This is a modern-English version of The Vnfortunate Traveller, or The Life of Jack Wilton: With an Essay on the Life and Writings of Thomas Nash by Edmund Gosse, originally written by Nash, Thomas.
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"The portrait of Surrey which is now at Hampton Court, and which is attributed to Holbein, though probably by his imitator, Guillim Stretes, apparently dates from a period when he was a very young man. It is a valuable and highly interesting picture; especially in regard to the dress, which, except for the white shirt, embroidered with Moresque work, is entirely red, and with the flat red cap, red shoes ornamented with studs of gold, the richly chased dagger and sword, is an admirable example of the gorgeous style of costume prevalent at Court at the latter end of the reign of Henry VIII, 'Law's History of Hampton Court Palace in Tudor Times.'"
The portrait of Surrey at Hampton Court, attributed to Holbein but likely done by his imitator, Guillim Stretes, seems to be from a time when he was quite young. It’s a valuable and fascinating artwork, especially concerning the clothing. Aside from the white shirt embroidered with Moorish designs, the outfit is completely red, featuring a flat red cap, red shoes decorated with gold studs, and a beautifully crafted dagger and sword. It’s a perfect example of the lavish style of clothing that was popular at Court during the later years of Henry VIII's reign. 'Law's History of Hampton Court Palace in Tudor Times.'
THE UNFORTUNATE TRAVELLER OR THE LIFE OF JACK WILTON:
WITH AN ESSAY
ON
THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS NASH BY EDMUND GOSSE
London Printed And Issued By Charles Whittingham & Co
At The
Chiswick Press MDCCCXCII
AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS NASH.
It is mainly, no doubt, but I hope not exclusively, an antiquarian interest which attaches to the name of Thomas Nash. It would be absurd to claim for a writer so obscure a very prominent place in the procession of Englishmen of letters. His works proclaim by their extreme rarity the fact that three centuries of readers have existed cheerfully and wholesomely without any acquaintance with their contents. At the present moment, the number of those living persons who have actually perused the works of Nash may probably be counted on the fingers of two hands. Most of these productions are uncommon to excess, one or two exist in positively unique examples. There is no use in arguing against such a fact as this. If Nash had reached, or even approached, the highest order of merit, he would have been placed, long ere this, within the reach of all. Nevertheless, his merits, relative if not positive, were great. In the violent coming of age of Elizabethan literature, his voice was heard loudly, not always discordantly, and with an accent eminently personal to himself. His life, though shadowy, has elements of picturesqueness and pathos; his writings are a storehouse of oddity and fantastic wit
It’s mostly, no doubt, but I hope not entirely, an interest in history that connects to the name Thomas Nash. It would be ridiculous to argue that a writer so obscure deserves a prominent spot among English authors. His works speak to their extreme rarity, showing that for three centuries, readers have managed happily and healthily without ever knowing their contents. Right now, the number of people alive who have actually read Nash’s works could probably be counted on two hands. Most of these pieces are exceedingly rare, with one or two being completely unique. There’s no point in disputing such a fact. If Nash had reached, or even come close to, the highest level of achievement, he would have been easily available to everyone long ago. Still, his merits, while relative rather than absolute, were significant. During the dynamic emergence of Elizabethan literature, his voice was heard loud and clear, not always out of tune, and distinctly his own. His life, though obscure, has elements of vividness and emotion; his writings are a treasure trove of eccentricity and whimsical wit.
It has been usual to class Nash with the Precursors of Shakespeare, and until quite lately it was conjectured that he was older than Greene and Peele, a contemporary of Lodge and Chapman. It is now known that he was considerably younger than all these, and even than Marlowe and Shakespeare. Thomas Nash, the fourth child of the Rev. William Nash, who to have been curate of Lowestoft in Suffolk, was baptized in that town in November, 1567. The Nashes continued to live in Lowestoft, where the father died in 1603, probably three years after the death of his son Thomas. Of the latter we hear nothing more until, in October, 1582, at the age of fifteen, he matriculated as a sizar of St. John's College, Cambridge. Cooper says that he was admitted a scholar on the Lady Margaret's foundation in 1584. He remained at Cambridge, in unbroken residence, until July, 1589, "seven year together, lacking a quarter," as he tells us positively in "Lenten Stuff."
It has been common to classify Nash among the forerunners of Shakespeare, and until recently, it was believed that he was older than Greene and Peele, and a contemporary of Lodge and Chapman. It is now known that he was significantly younger than all of them, and even younger than Marlowe and Shakespeare. Thomas Nash, the fourth child of Rev. William Nash, who was likely the curate of Lowestoft in Suffolk, was baptized in that town in November 1567. The Nashes continued to live in Lowestoft, where the father died in 1603, probably three years after his son Thomas's death. We hear nothing more about Thomas until October 1582, when, at the age of fifteen, he enrolled as a sizar at St. John's College, Cambridge. Cooper states that he became a scholar on the Lady Margaret's foundation in 1584. He remained at Cambridge for a continuous residence until July 1589, "seven year together, lacking a quarter," as he confirms in "Lenten Stuff."
Cambridge was the hotbed of all that was vivid and revolutionary in literature at that moment, and Robert Greene was the centre of literary Cambridge. When Nash arrived, Greene, who was seven years his senior, was still in residence at his study in Clare Hall, having returned from his travels in Italy and Spain, ready, in 1583, to take his degree as master of arts. He was soon, however, to leave for London, and it is unlikely that a boy of sixteen would be immediately admitted to the society of those "lewd wags" who looked up to the already distinguished Greene as to a master. But Greene, without doubt, made frequent visits to his university, and on one of these was probably formed that intimate friendship with Nash which lasted until near the elder poet's death. Marlowe was at Corpus, then called Benet College, during five years of Nash's residence, but it is by no means certain that their acquaintance began so early. It is, indeed, in the highest degree tantalizing that these writers, many of whom loved nothing better than to talk about themselves, should have neglected to give us the information which would precisely be most welcome to us. A dozen whole "Anatomies of Absurdity" and "Supplications of Pierce Penniless" might be eagerly exchanged for a few pages in which the literary life of Cambridge from 1582 to 1589 should be frankly and definitely described.
Cambridge was the hub of everything exciting and groundbreaking in literature at that time, and Robert Greene was at the heart of literary Cambridge. When Nash arrived, Greene, who was seven years older, was still at his study in Clare Hall, having returned from his travels in Italy and Spain, ready to earn his master's degree in arts in 1583. However, he was soon to leave for London, and it’s unlikely that a sixteen-year-old would be welcomed into the circle of those "wild wags" who looked up to the already well-known Greene as a mentor. But Greene definitely made regular visits to his university, and during one of those visits, he likely formed the close friendship with Nash that lasted until near the elder poet's death. Marlowe was at Corpus, then known as Benet College, for the five years of Nash's time there, but it's not certain that they became acquainted that early on. It is indeed frustrating that these writers, many of whom loved discussing themselves, neglected to provide the exact information we would find most interesting. A dozen entire "Anatomies of Absurdity" and "Supplications of Pierce Penniless" could easily be traded for a few pages detailing the literary life of Cambridge from 1582 to 1589.
It has been surmised that Nash was ejected from the university in 1587. His enemy, Gabriel Harvey, who was extremely ill-informed, gives this account of what occurred:—
It’s believed that Nash was kicked out of the university in 1587. His rival, Gabriel Harvey, who was very misinformed, provides this version of what happened:—
"[At Cambridge], (being distracted of his wits) [Nash] fell into diverse misdemeanours, which were the first steps that brought him to this poor estate. As, namely, in his fresh-time, how he flourished in all impudency towards scholars, and abuse to the townsmen; insomuch that to this day the townsmen call every untoward scholar of whom there is great hope, a very Nash. Then, being bachelor of arts, which by great labour he got, to show afterwards that he was not unworthy of it, had a hand in a show called Terminus et non terminus; for the which his partner in it was expelled the college; but this foresaid Nash played in it (as I suppose) the Varlet of Clubs.... Then suspecting himself that he should be stayed for egregie dunsus, and not attain to the next degree, said he had commenced enough, and so forsook Cambridge, being bachelor of the third year."
"[At Cambridge], (distracted and losing his grip) [Nash] got into various troubles, which were the first steps that led him to this unfortunate situation. For example, back in his early days, he displayed a lot of audacity toward fellow students and mistreated the townspeople; to this day, the townspeople refer to any troublesome student they have high hopes for as a very Nash. After earning his Bachelor of Arts with great effort, he wanted to prove he deserved it and got involved in a performance called Terminus et non terminus; his partner in this project was expelled from the college, but Nash played (as I believe) the role of the Varlet of Clubs.... Then, suspecting that he would be flagged for egregie dunsus and wouldn't reach the next academic level, he declared he had studied enough and left Cambridge after three years as a Bachelor."
But, even in this poor gossip, we find nothing about ejection. Nash's extraordinary abuse of language is probably the cause of that report. In 1589, in prefacing his "Anatomy of Absurdity," he remarked:—
But, even in this poor gossip, we find nothing about being thrown out. Nash's extreme misuse of language is probably the reason for that rumor. In 1589, in introducing his "Anatomy of Absurdity," he remarked:—
"What I have written proceeded not from the pen of vainglory, but from the process of that pensiveness, which two summers since overtook me; whose obscured cause, best known to every name of curse, hath compelled my wit to wander abroad unregarded in this satirical disguise, and counselled my content to dislodge his delight from traitors' eyes."
"What I have written didn’t come from a desire for fame, but from a deep reflection that overwhelmed me two summers ago; its hidden cause, known best by anyone familiar with curses, has made my thoughts wander freely in this sarcastic disguise and led my mind to remove its joy from the eyes of deceivers."
That the young gentleman meant something by these sentences, it is only charitable to suppose; that he could have been intelligible, even to his immediate contemporaries, is hardly to be believed. This "obscured cause" has been taken to be, by some, his removal from the University, and, by others, his entanglement with a young woman. It is perhaps simpler to understand him to say that the ensuing pamphlet was written, in consequence of an intellectual crisis, in 1587, when he was twenty years of age.
It’s only fair to think that the young man meant something with these words; however, it's hard to believe he was understandable even to those around him at the time. Some have interpreted this "obscured cause" as his expulsion from the University, while others think it was his involvement with a young woman. It might be easier to understand that he wrote the following pamphlet as a result of an intellectual crisis in 1587, when he was twenty years old.
At twenty-two, at all events, we find him in London, beginning his career as a man of letters. His first separate publication seems to have been the small quarto in black letter from which a quotation has just been made. This composition, named an "Anatomy" in imitation of several then recent popular treatises of a similar title, is only to be pardoned on the supposition that it was a boyish manuscript prepared at college. It is vilely written, in the preposterous Euphuism of the moment; the style is founded on Lyly, the manner is the manner of Greene, and Whetstone in his moral "Mirrors" and "Heptamerons" has supplied the matter. The "absurdity" satirized in this jejune and tedious tract is extravagant living of all kinds. The author attacks women with great vehemence, but only in that temper which permitted the young Juvenals of the hour to preach against wine and cards and stageplays with intense zeal, while practising the worship of all these with equal ardour. "The Anatomy of Absurdity" is a purely academic exercise, interesting only because it shows, in the praise of Sidney and the passage in defence of poetry, something of the intellectual aptitude of the youthful writer.
At twenty-two, we find him in London, starting his career as a writer. His first standalone publication appears to be a small quarto in black letter, from which a quote has just been made. This piece, called "Anatomy" in imitation of several popular treatises at the time, can only be excused if we assume it was a youthful manuscript created at college. It's poorly written, in the ridiculous Euphuism of the era; the style is based on Lyly, the approach is reminiscent of Greene, and Whetstone's moral "Mirrors" and "Heptamerons" have provided the content. The "absurdity" critiqued in this dull and tedious work is the excessive lifestyle in all its forms. The author vigorously attacks women, but only in the same spirit that allowed the young Juvenals of the time to preach against wine, card games, and plays with fervent passion while indulging in all these things just as eagerly. "The Anatomy of Absurdity" is purely an academic exercise, interesting only because it showcases, in the praise of Sidney and the defense of poetry, some of the intellectual talent of the young writer.
In the same year, and a little earlier, Nash published an address "to the gentlemen students of both universities," as a preface to a romance by Greene. Bibliographers describe a supposititious "Menaphon" of 1587, which nobody has ever seen; even if such an edition existed, it is certain that Nash's address was not prefixed to it, for the style is greatly in advance of his boyish writing of that year. It is an interesting document, enthusiastic and gay in a manner hardly to be met with again in its author, and diversified with graceful praise of St John's College, defence of good poetry, and wholesome ridicule of those who were trying to introduce the "Thrasonical huffsnuff" style of which Phaer and Stanihurst were the prophets.
In the same year, and a little earlier, Nash published a speech "to the gentlemen students of both universities," as a preface to a romance by Greene. Bibliographers mention a fictional "Menaphon" from 1587, which no one has ever seen; even if such an edition existed, it's clear that Nash's address wasn't attached to it, as the style is far more advanced than his youthful writing from that year. It’s an interesting document, lively and cheerful in a way that’s rare for him, featuring elegant praise for St John's College, a defense of good poetry, and a healthy mockery of those trying to push the "Thrasonical huffsnuff" style that Phaer and Stanihurst championed.
Still in 1589, but later in the year, Nash is believed to have thrown himself into that extraordinary clash of theological weapons which is celebrated as the Martin Marprelate Controversy. As is well known, this pamphlet war grew out of the passionate resentment felt by the Puritans against the tyrannical acts of Whitgift and the Bishops. The actual controversy has been traced back to a defence of the establishment of the Church, by the Dean of Sarum, on the one hand, and a treatise by John Penry the Puritan, on the other, both published in 1587. In 1588 followed the violent Puritan libel, called "Martin Marprelate," secretly printed, and written, perhaps, by a lawyer named Barrow. Towards the close of the dispute several of the literary wits dashed in upon the prelatical side, and denounced the Martinists with exuberant high spirits. Among these Nash was long thought to have held a very prominent place, for the two most brilliant tracts of the entire controversy, "Pap with an Hatchet," 1589, and "An Almond for a Parrot," 1590, were confidently attributed to him. These are now, however, clearly perceived to be the work of a much riper pen, that, namely, of Lyly.
Still in 1589, later in the year, Nash is believed to have immersed himself in the remarkable clash of theological ideas known as the Martin Marprelate Controversy. As is well known, this pamphlet war resulted from the intense anger the Puritans felt toward the oppressive actions of Whitgift and the Bishops. The actual dispute dates back to a defense of the Church’s establishment by the Dean of Sarum, on one side, and a treatise by John Penry the Puritan, on the other, both published in 1587. In 1588, a fierce Puritan pamphlet called "Martin Marprelate" appeared, secretly printed and possibly written by a lawyer named Barrow. Toward the end of the fight, several literary figures jumped in on the bishops' side, energetically criticizing the Martinists. Among these, Nash was long considered to have played a very significant role, as the two most brilliant pieces from the entire controversy, "Pap with an Hatchet," 1589, and "An Almond for a Parrot," 1590, were confidently attributed to him. However, it is now clearly recognized that these works were crafted by a much more skilled writer, namely, Lyly.
It is probable that the four anonymous and privately printed tracts, which Dr. Grosart has finally selected, do represent Nash's share in the Marprelate Controversy, although in one of them, "Martin's Month's Mind," I cannot say that I recognize his manner. The "Countercuff," published in August, 1589, from Gravesend, shows a great advance in power. The academic Euphuism has been laid aside; images and trains of thought are taken from life and experience instead of from books. In "Pasquils Return," which belongs to October of the same year, the author invents the happy word "Pruritans" to annoy his enemy, and speaks, probably in his own name, but perhaps in that of Pasquil, of a visit to Antwerp. "Martin's Month's Mind," which is a crazy piece of fustian, belongs to December, 1589, while the fourth tract, "Pasquil's Apology," appeared so late as July, 1590. The smart and active pen which skirmishes in these pamphlets adds nothing serious to the consideration of the tragical controversy in which it so lightly took part. It amused and trained Nash to write these satires, but they left Udall none the worse and the Bishops none the better. The author repeatedly promises to rehearse the arguments on both sides and sum up the entire controversy in a "May-Game of Martinism," of which we hear no more.
It's likely that the four anonymous and privately printed tracts Dr. Grosart has chosen do represent Nash's involvement in the Marprelate Controversy, although I can't say I recognize his style in one of them, "Martin's Month's Mind." The "Countercuff," published in August 1589 from Gravesend, shows significant improvement in strength. The overly formal Euphuism has been abandoned; instead, images and thoughts are drawn from real life and personal experience rather than from books. In "Pasquil's Return," which dates to October of the same year, the author cleverly coins the term "Pruritans" to taunt his adversary and discusses, likely in his own voice but perhaps as Pasquil, a trip to Antwerp. "Martin's Month's Mind," which is a rather nonsensical piece, is from December 1589, while the fourth tract, "Pasquil's Apology," was published as late as July 1590. The witty and lively writing in these pamphlets doesn't add anything substantial to the serious debate in which it participated so lightly. Writing these satires entertained and honed Nash's skills, but they left Udall unaffected and the Bishops no better off. The author keeps promising to present the arguments from both sides and summarize the whole controversy in a "May-Game of Martinism," but we never hear about it again.
During the first twelve months of Nash's residence in London he was pretty busily employed. It is just conceivable that six small publications may have brought in money enough to support him. But after this we perceive no obvious source of income for some considerable time. How the son of a poor Suffolk minister contrived to live in London throughout the years 1590 and 1591, it is difficult to imagine. Certainly not on the proceeds of a single pamphlet. It is not credible that Nash published much that has not come down to us. Perhaps a tract here and there may have been lost.{1} He probably subsisted by hanging on to the outskirts of education. Perhaps he taught pupils, more likely still he wrote letters. We know, afterall, too little of the manners of the age to venture on a reply to the question which constantly imposes itself, How did the minor Elizabethan man of letters earn a livelihood? In the case of Nash, I would hazard the conjecture, which is borne out, I think, by several allusions in his writings, that he was a reader to the press, connected, perhaps, with the Queen's printers, or with those under the special protection of the Bishops.
During the first
1 One long narrative poem, the very name of which is too coarse to quote, was, according to Oldys, certainly published; but of this no printed copy is known to exist. John Davies of Hereford says that "good men tore that pamphlet to pieces." I owe to the kindness of Mr. A. H. Bullen the inspection of a transtript of a very corrupt manuscript of this work.
1 One lengthy narrative poem, the title of which is too crude to mention, was, according to Oldys, definitely published; however, no printed copy is known to exist. John Davies of Hereford states that "good people tore that pamphlet to shreds." I am grateful to Mr. A. H. Bullen for allowing me to examine a transcript of a very flawed manuscript of this work.
His only production in 1591, so far as we know, was the insignificant tract called "A Wonderful Astrological Prognostication," by "Adam Fouleweather." This has been hastily treated as a defence of "the dishonoured memory" of Nash's dead friend Greene against Gabriel Harvey. But Greene did not die till the end of 1592, and in the "Prognostication" there is nothing about either Greene or Harvey. The pamphlet is a quizzical satire on the almanac-makers, very much in the spirit of Swift's Bickerstaff "Predictions" a hundred years later. Of more importance was a preface contributed in this same year to Sir Philip Sidney's posthumous "Astrophel and Stella." In this short essay Nash reaches a higher level of eloquence than he had yet achieved, and, in spite of its otiose redundancy, this enthusiastic eulogy of Sidney is pleasant reading.
His only work in 1591, as far as we know, was a minor piece titled "A Wonderful Astrological Prognostication," credited to "Adam Fouleweather." This has been quickly interpreted as a defense of "the dishonored memory" of Nash's deceased friend Greene against Gabriel Harvey. However, Greene didn’t die until the end of 1592, and the "Prognostication" doesn’t mention either Greene or Harvey. The pamphlet is a humorous satire on almanac-makers, very much in the style of Swift's Bickerstaff "Predictions" a century later. More importantly, a preface was contributed in the same year to Sir Philip Sidney's posthumous "Astrophel and Stella." In this short essay, Nash achieves a higher level of eloquence than he had reached before, and despite its unnecessary redundancy, this enthusiastic tribute to Sidney is enjoyable to read.
In 1592, doubtless prior to the death of Greene, Nash published the earliest of his important books, the volume entitled "Pierce Penniless his Supplication to the Devil." This is a grotesque satire on the vices and the eccentricities of the age. As a specimen of prose style it is remarkable for its spirit and "go," qualities which may enable us to forget how turbid, ungraceful, and harsh it is. Nash had now dropped the mannerism of the Euphuists; he had hardly gained a style of his own. "Pierce Penniless," with its chains of "letter-leaping metaphors," rattles breathlessly on, and at length abruptly ceases. Any sense of the artistic fashioning of a sentence, or of the relative harmony of the parts of a composition, was not yet dreamed of. But before we condemn the muddy turbulence of the author, we must recollect that nothing had then been published of Hooker, Raleigh, or Bacon in the pedestrian manner. Genuine English prose had begun to exist indeed, but had not yet been revealed to the world. Nash, as a lively portrait-painter in grotesque, at this time, is seen at his best in such a caricature as this, scourging "the pride of the Dane":—
In 1592, before Greene's death, Nash published one of his key works, a book called "Pierce Penniless his Supplication to the Devil." This is a bizarre satire on the vices and quirks of the time. As an example of prose style, it's notable for its energy and drive, which might help us overlook how muddled, awkward, and rough it is. Nash had moved away from the style of the Euphuists but still hadn't developed a distinctive voice of his own. "Pierce Penniless," with its wild "letter-leaping metaphors," rushes forward and then suddenly stops. There was no sense yet of crafting a sentence artistically or achieving harmony between the parts of a piece. However, before we criticize the author's chaotic style, we should remember that nothing had been published at that time by Hooker, Raleigh, or Bacon in a straightforward manner. True English prose had begun to emerge but had not yet been shown to the world. At this point, Nash, as a vibrant caricaturist, shines in a piece like this, ridiculing "the pride of the Dane":—
"The most gross and senseless proud dolts are the Danes, who stand so much upon their unwieldy burly-boned soldiery, that they account of no man that hath not a battle-axe at his girdle to hough dogs with, or wears not a cock's feather in a thrummed hat like a cavalier. Briefly, he is the best fool braggart under heaven. For besides nature hath lent him a flab-berkin face, like one of the four winds, and cheeks that sag like a woman's dug over his chinbone, his apparel is so stuffed up with bladders of taffaty, and his back like beef stuffed with parsley, so drawn out with ribbands and devises, and blistered with light sarcenet bastings, that you would think him nothing but a swarm of butterflies, if you saw him afar off."
"The most ridiculous and senselessly proud fools are the Danes, who are so obsessed with their clumsy, heavy-built soldiers that they think anyone without a battle-axe at their waist to use on dogs or who doesn't wear a cock's feather in a fancy hat is worthless. In short, he’s the biggest fool braggart you’ll ever meet. Nature has given him a silly-looking face, like one of the four winds, and cheeks that sag like an old woman's over his jawline. His clothes are stuffed with puffy fabric, and his back is packed with parsley like a beef roast, all decorated with ribbons and designs, and covered in shiny fabric scraps. From a distance, you’d think he was just a cloud of butterflies."
On the 3rd of September, 1592, Greene came to his miserable end, having sent to the press from his deathbed those two remarkable pamphlets, the "Groatsworth of Wit" and the "Repentance." For two years past, if we may believe Nash, the profligate atheism of the elder poet had estranged his friend, or at all events had kept him at a distance. But a feeling of common loyalty, and the anger which a true man of letters feels when a genuine poet is traduced by a pedant, led Nash to take up a very strong position as a defender of the reputation of Greene. Gabriel Harvey, although the friend of Spenser, is a personage who fills an odious place in the literary history of the last years of Elizabeth. He was a scholar and a university man of considerable attainments, but he was wholly without taste, and he concentrated into vinegar a temper which must always have had a tendency to be sour. In particular, he loathed the school of young writers who had become famous in direct opposition to the literary laws which he had laid down.
On September 3, 1592, Greene met a sad end, having sent to print from his deathbed those two notable pamphlets, "Groatsworth of Wit" and "Repentance." For the past two years, if we believe Nash, Greene's reckless atheism had driven a wedge between him and his friend, or at the very least kept him at arm’s length. However, a sense of shared loyalty and the anger that a true writer feels when a genuine poet is insulted by a know-it-all compelled Nash to strongly defend Greene's reputation. Gabriel Harvey, though a friend of Spenser, occupies a distasteful role in the literary history of Elizabeth's later years. He was a scholar and a well-educated university man, but completely lacking in taste, and he bottled up a sour temperament into bitterness. Specifically, he detested the group of young writers who gained fame in direct opposition to the literary standards he had established.
Harvey's wrath had found a definite excuse in the tract, called "A Quip for an upstart Courtier, or a quaint dispute between Velvet-Breeches and Cloth-Breeches," which Greene had published early in the year 1592. Accordingly, when he heard of Greene's death, he hastened to his lodgings, interviewed his landlady, collected scurrilous details, and, with matchless bad taste, issued, before the month was over, his "Four Letters," a pamphlet in which he trampled upon the memory of Greene. In the latest of his public utterances, Greene had made an appeal to three friends, who, though not actually named, are understood to have been Marlowe, Peele, and Nash.
Harvey's anger had found a clear reason in the pamphlet called "A Quip for an Upstart Courtier, or a Quirky Dispute Between Velvet Breeches and Cloth Breeches," which Greene had published early in 1592. So, when he heard about Greene's death, he rushed to his place, spoke with his landlady, gathered scandalous details, and, with incredibly poor taste, released his "Four Letters" pamphlet before the month was over, where he disrespected Greene's memory. In his latest public statement, Greene had reached out to three friends, who, even though not named, are believed to have been Marlowe, Peele, and Nash.
Of these, the last was the one with the readiest pen, and the task of punishing Harvey fell upon him.
Of these, the last was the quickest writer, and the responsibility of punishing Harvey fell to him.
Nash's first attack on Harvey took the form of a small volume, entitled, "Strange News of the Intercepting of Certain Letters," published very early in 1593. It was a close confutation of the charges made in Harvey's "Four Letters," the vulgarity and insolence of the pedant being pressed home with an insistence which must have been particularly galling to him as coming from a distinguished man of his own university, twenty years his junior. Harvey retorted with the heavy artillery of his "Pierce's Supererogation," which was mainly directed against Nash, whom the disappearance of Peele, and the sudden death of Marlowe in June, had left without any very intimate friend as a supporter. Nash retired, for the moment, from the controversy, and in the prefatory epistle to a remarkable work, the most bulky of all his books, "Christ's Tears over Jerusalem," he waved the white flag. He bade, he declared, "a hundred unfortunate farewells to fantastical satirism," and complimented his late antagonist on his "abundant scholarship." Harvey took no notice of this, and for four years their mutual animosity slumbered. In this same year, 1593, Nash produced the only play which has come down to us as wholly composed by him, the comedy of "Summer's Last Will and Testament."
Nash's first attack on Harvey came in the form of a small book titled "Strange News of the Intercepting of Certain Letters," published early in 1593. It was a thorough rebuttal of the accusations made in Harvey's "Four Letters," emphasizing the vulgarity and arrogance of the pedant in a way that must have been especially irritating for him since it was coming from a respected man of his own university, who was twenty years younger. Harvey shot back with the heavy-duty arguments in his "Pierce's Supererogation," mainly targeting Nash, who found himself without any close friends to back him up after the disappearance of Peele and the sudden death of Marlowe in June. Nash temporarily stepped back from the dispute, and in the preface to a significant work, the largest of all his books, "Christ's Tears over Jerusalem," he conceded defeat. He announced that he was saying "a hundred unfortunate farewells to fantastical satirism" and praised his former rival for his "abundant scholarship." Harvey ignored this, and for four years, their mutual hostility lay dormant. In the same year, 1593, Nash produced the only play that has survived as entirely written by him, the comedy "Summer's Last Will and Testament."
Meanwhile "Pierce Penniless" had enjoyed a remarkable success, and had placed Nash in a prominent position among London men of letters. We learn that in 1596, four years after its original publication, it had run through six editions, besides being translated in 1594 into French, and, a little later, into Macaronic Latin. In "Christ's Tears" the young writer, conscious of his new importance, deals with what the critics have said about his style. He tells us, and we cannot wonder at it, that objections have been made to "my boisterous compound words, and ending my Italianate coined verbs all in ize." His defence is not unlike that of De Quincey; we can imagine his asking, when urged to be simple, whether simplicity be in place in a description of Belshazzar's Feast He says that the Saxon monosyllables that swarm in the English tongue are a scandal to it, and that he is only turning this cheap silver trash into fine gold coinage. Books, he says, written in plain English, "seem like shopkeepers' boxes, that contain nothing else save halfpence, three-farthings, and two-pences." To show what sort of doubloons he proposes to mint for English pockets, we need go no further than the opening phrases of his dedication of this very book to that amiable poet, the Lady Elizabeth Carey:—
Meanwhile, "Pierce Penniless" enjoyed remarkable success and helped establish Nash as a notable figure among London's writers. We find out that in 1596, four years after its original publication, it had gone through six editions, in addition to being translated into French in 1594, and shortly after, into Macaronic Latin. In "Christ's Tears," the young author, aware of his newfound significance, addresses the criticism regarding his writing style. He reveals, and it’s no surprise, that some have objected to "my loud compound words and ending my Italian-influenced coined verbs all in ize.” His defense resembles that of De Quincey; we can picture him asking, when told to simplify, whether simplicity is appropriate when describing Belshazzar's Feast. He argues that the Saxon monosyllables abundant in the English language are shameful and that he's just converting this cheap silver trash into fine gold coinage. He states that books written in plain English "seem like shopkeepers' boxes that contain nothing but halfpennies, three-farthings, and two-pences." To illustrate the kind of doubloons he plans to mint for English audiences, we need look no further than the opening lines of his dedication of this very book to the charming poet, Lady Elizabeth Carey:—
"Excellent accomplished court-glorifying Lady, give me leave, with the sportive sea-porpoises, preludiately a little to play before the storm of my tears, to make my prayer before I proceed to my sacrifice. Lo, for an oblation to the rich burnished shrine of your virtue, a handful of Jerusalem's mummianized earth, in a few sheets of waste paper enwrapped, I here, humiliate, offer up at your feet."
"Wonderful, accomplished lady of the court, allow me to play a little like the playful sea dolphins before the storm of my tears, so I can make my request before I move on to my sacrifice. Here, as an offering to your beautifully polished virtue, I present a handful of dirt from Jerusalem, wrapped in a few sheets of scrap paper, and humbly lay it at your feet."
These, however, in spite of the odd neologisms, are sentences formed in a novel and a greatly improved manner, and the improvement is sustained throughout this curious volume. Probably the intimate study of the Authorized Version of the Bible, which this semi-theological tractate necessitated, had much to do with the clarification of the author's style. At all events, from this time forth, Nash drops, except in polemical passages where his design is provocative, that irritating harshness in volubility which had hitherto marked his manner of writing. Here, for example, is a passage from "Christ's Tears" which is not without a strangely impressive melody:—
These, however, despite the odd new words, are sentences structured in a fresh and significantly better way, and this improvement is consistent throughout this intriguing book. Likely, the close study of the Authorized Version of the Bible, which this semi-theological essay required, contributed a lot to the clarity of the author's style. In any case, from this point on, Nash eliminates, except in argumentative sections where he's aiming to provoke, that annoying harshness in his flow that had previously characterized his writing style. Here, for example, is a passage from "Christ's Tears" that has a strangely captivating rhythm:—
"Over the Temple, at the solemn feast of the Passover, was seen a comet most coruscant, streamed and tailed forth, with glistering naked swords, which in his mouth, as a man in his hand all at once, he made semblance as if he shaked and vambrashed. Seven days it continued; all which time, the Temple was as clear and light in the night as it had been noonday. In the Sanctum Sanctorum was heard clashing and hewing of armour, while flocks of ravens, with a fearful croaking cry, beat, fluttered and clashed against the windows. A hideous dismal owl, exceeding all her kind in deformity and quantity, in the Temple-porch built her nest. From under the altar there issued penetrating plangorous howlings and ghastly deadmen's groans."
"Over the Temple, during the solemn Passover feast, a brilliant comet appeared, streaming and trailing with sparkling, bare swords, which it seemed to hold in its mouth as if a person were shaking and threatening them in his hand. It lasted for seven days; during this time, the Temple was as bright at night as it was at noon. In the Sanctum Sanctorum, the sound of clashing and cutting armor could be heard, while groups of ravens, with a terrifying croak, beat, fluttered, and banged against the windows. A hideous, monstrous owl, larger and more deformed than any of its kind, made her nest in the Temple porch. From underneath the altar, there came haunting howls and the eerie groans of dead men."
He tells us, in the preface, that he takes an autumnal air, and in truth there is a melancholy refinement in this volume which we may seek for in vain elsewhere in Nash's writings. The greater part of the book is a "collachrimate oration" over Jerusalem, placed in the mouth of our Saviour; by degrees the veil of Jerusalem grows thinner and thinner, and we see more and more clearly through it the London of Elizabeth, denounced by a pensive and not, this time, a turbulent satirist.
He tells us in the preface that he has a fall-like tone, and honestly, there’s a bittersweet elegance in this book that we won’t find anywhere else in Nash’s work. Most of the book is a "collachrimate oration" about Jerusalem, spoken by our Savior; gradually, the veil over Jerusalem becomes thinner and thinner, allowing us to see more clearly the London of Elizabeth, criticized by a reflective and, this time, not an aggressive satirist.
In 1594 Nash's pen was particularly active. It was to the Lady Elizabeth Carey, again, that he dedicated "The Terrors of the Night," a discourse on apparitions. He describes some very agreeable ghosts, as, for instance, those which appeared to a gentleman, a friend of the author's, in the guise of "an inveigling troop of naked virgins, whose odoriferous breath more perfumed the air than ordnance would that is charged with amomum, musk, civet and ambergreece." It was surely a mock-modesty which led Nash to fear that such ghost-stories as these would appear to his readers duller than Holland cheese and more tiresome than homespun. To 1594, too, belongs the tragedy of "Dido," probably left incomplete by Marlowe, and finished by Nash, who shows himself here an adept in that swelling bombast of bragging blank verse of which he affected to disapprove. A new edition of "Christ's Tears" also belongs to this busy year 1594, which however is mainly interesting to us as having seen the publication of the work which we are here introducing to modern readers.
In 1594, Nash was especially prolific. He dedicated "The Terrors of the Night," a discussion on apparitions, to Lady Elizabeth Carey once again. He portrays some quite charming ghosts, such as those that appeared to a gentleman, a friend of the author, in the form of "a tempting group of naked virgins, whose fragrant breath filled the air more pleasantly than gunpowder loaded with amomum, musk, civet, and ambergris." It was certainly a display of false modesty that led Nash to worry that such ghost stories would seem to his readers as bland as Dutch cheese and more tedious than homemade cloth. The tragedy "Dido," likely incomplete by Marlowe and finished by Nash, also belongs to 1594, where he reveals himself as skilled in that inflated style of boastful blank verse that he claimed to disapprove of. A new edition of "Christ's Tears" also came out in this busy year of 1594, which is mainly interesting to us as it was when the work we are introducing to modern readers was published.
An eminent French critic, M. Jusserand, whose knowledge of English sixteenth-century literature is unsurpassed, was the first to draw attention to the singular interest which attaches to "The Unfortunate Traveller, or the Life of Jack Wilton," 1594. In his treatise, "Le Roman au Temps de Shakespeare," 1887, M. Jusserand insisted upon the fact that this neglected book was the best specimen of the picaresque tale written in English before the days of Defoe. He shows that expressions put in the mouth of Nash's hero, which had been carelessly treated as autobiographical confessions of foreign travel and the like, on the part of the author, were but features of a carefully planned fiction. "Jack Wilton" describes the career of an adventurer, from his early youth as a page in the royal camp of Henry VIII. at the siege of Tournay, to his attainment of wealth, position, and a beautiful Italian wife.
A prominent French critic, M. Jusserand, whose expertise in English literature from the sixteenth century is unmatched, was the first to highlight the unique interest surrounding "The Unfortunate Traveller, or the Life of Jack Wilton," 1594. In his work, "Le Roman au Temps de Shakespeare," 1887, M. Jusserand emphasized that this overlooked book is the finest example of the picaresque tale written in English before Defoe. He demonstrates that the statements made by Nash's protagonist, which have often been carelessly interpreted as personal confessions of travel experiences, are actually deliberate elements of a well-crafted fictional story. "Jack Wilton" tells the story of an adventurer, from his early days as a page in the royal camp of Henry VIII during the siege of Tournay, to his rise to wealth, status, and a beautiful Italian wife.
The first exploit of the page is an encounter with a fraudulent innkeeper, which is described with great spirit, and M. Jusserand has ingeniously surmised that Shakespeare, after reading these pages, determined to fuse the two characters, mine host and the waggish picaroon, into the single immortal figure of Falstaff. After this point in the tale, it is probable that the reader may find the interest of the story flag; but his attention will be reawakened when he reaches the episode of the Earl of Surrey and Fair Geraldine, and that in which Jack, pretending to be Surrey, runs off with his sweet Venetian mistress, Diamante. It will be for the reader of the ensuing pages to say whether Nash had mastered the art of narrative quite so perfectly as M. Jusserand, in his just pride as a discoverer, seems to think. The romance, no doubt, is incoherent and languid at times, and is easily led aside into channels of gorgeous description and vain moral reflection.
The first adventure in the story involves a fake innkeeper, described with a lot of energy. M. Jusserand cleverly speculates that after reading these pages, Shakespeare decided to combine these two characters—the innkeeper and the clever rogue—into the unforgettable figure of Falstaff. From this point on in the story, the reader might find the plot lose some excitement, but their interest will be piqued again when they come to the tale of the Earl of Surrey and Fair Geraldine, and the part where Jack, pretending to be Surrey, runs off with his lovely Venetian mistress, Diamante. It will be up to the reader of the following pages to determine whether Nash has truly mastered storytelling as M. Jusserand, proudly as a discoverer, seems to believe. The romance is, without a doubt, sometimes disjointed and slow, easily drifting into elaborate descriptions and empty moral musings.
It will doubtless be of interest, at this point, to quote the words in which, in a later volume, M. Jusserand has reiterated his praise of "Jack Wilton" and his belief in Nash as the founder of the British novel of character:—
It will surely be interesting, at this point, to quote the words in which, in a later volume, M. Jusserand has repeated his praise of "Jack Wilton" and his belief in Nash as the founder of the British novel of character:—
"In the works of Nash and his imitators, the different parts are badly dovetailed; the novelist is incoherent and incomplete; the fault lies in some degree with the picaresque form itself. Nash, however, pointed out the right road, the road that was to lead to the true novel. He was the first among his compatriots to endeavour to relate in prose a long-sustained story, having for its chief concern: the truth.... No one, Ben Jonson excepted, possessed at that epoch, in so great a degree as himself, a love of the honest truth. With Nash, then, the novel of real life, whose invention in England is generally attributed to Defoe, begins. To connect Defoe with the past of English literature, we must get over the whole of the seventeenth century, and go back to 'Jack Wilton,' the worthy brother of 'Roxana,' 'Moll Flanders,' and 'Colonel Jack.'"
"In the works of Nash and his followers, the different parts are poorly connected; the novelist is disorganized and incomplete; the issue lies partly with the picaresque style itself. However, Nash pointed out the right direction, the path that would lead to the true novel. He was the first among his peers to attempt to narrate a sustained story in prose, focusing on: the truth.... No one, except for Ben Jonson, had a greater passion for honest truth during that time than he did. With Nash, the novel about real life, whose creation in England is typically credited to Defoe, begins. To link Defoe with the history of English literature, we need to skip over the entire seventeenth century and go back to 'Jack Wilton,' the worthy sibling of 'Roxana,' 'Moll Flanders,' and 'Colonel Jack.'"
It is to be regretted that Nash made no second adventure in pure fiction. "Jack Wilton," now one of the rarest of his books, was never reprinted in its own age.
It’s unfortunate that Nash didn’t have a second adventure in pure fiction. "Jack Wilton," now one of the rarest of his books, was never reprinted during its time.
How Nash was employed during the next two years, it is not easy to conjecture. When we meet with him once more, the smouldering fire of his quarrel with the Harveys had burst again into flame. "Have with you to Saffron Walden," 1596, is devoted to the chastisement of "the reprobate brace of brothers, to wit, witless Gabriel and ruffling Richard." No fresh public outburst on Harvey's part seems to have led to this attack; but he bragged in private that he had silenced his licentious antagonists. Nash admits that his opponent's last book "has been kept idle by me, in a bye-settle out of sight amongst old shoes and boots almost this two year." Harvey was known to have come from Saffron Walden; Nash invites his readers to accompany him to that town to see what they can discover, and he retails a good deal of lively scandal about the rope-maker's sons. "Have with you" is perhaps the smartest and is certainly the most readable of Nash's controversial volumes. It gives us, too, some interesting fragments of autobiography. Harvey had accused him of "prostituting his pen like a courtisan," and Nash makes this curious and not very lucid statement in selfdefence:—
How Nash spent the next two years isn’t easy to figure out. When we encounter him again, the simmering tension from his conflict with the Harveys has reignited. "Have with you to Saffron Walden," 1596, is focused on punishing "the sinful pair of brothers, namely, foolish Gabriel and boastful Richard." There doesn’t seem to be any new public outburst from Harvey that provoked this attack; however, he privately bragged about silencing his lewd opponents. Nash admits that he’s kept his rival’s last book "idle by me, in a side corner out of sight among old shoes and boots for almost two years." It was known that Harvey came from Saffron Walden, and Nash invites his readers to join him in going to that town to see what they can find out, sharing plenty of lively gossip about the rope-maker’s sons. "Have with you" is probably the sharpest and definitely the most readable of Nash’s controversial books. It also provides some interesting snippets of autobiography. Harvey had accused him of "selling his writing like a prostitute," and Nash offers this peculiar and not very clear statement in his defense:—
"Neither will I deny it nor will I grant it. Only thus far I'll go with you, that twice or thrice in a month, when res est angusta domi, the bottom of my purse is turned downward, and my conduit of ink will no longer flow for want of reparations, I am fain to let my plough stand still in the midst of a furrow, and follow some of these newfangled Galiardos and Senior Fantasticos, to whose amorous villanellas and quipassas, I prostitute my pen in hope of gain.... Many a fair day ago have I proclaimed myself to the world Piers Penniless."
"Neither will I deny it nor admit it. I'll only say this much: a couple of times a month, when times are tough at home, when my wallet is empty, and my ink runs dry because I can't afford refills, I have to pause my work in the middle of a project and go after these trendy entertainers and those charming performers, to whose romantic songs and clever verses I offer my writing in hopes of making some money.... A long time ago, I introduced myself to the world as Piers Penniless."
Gabriel Harvey must have felt, on reading "Have with you to Saffron Walden," that his antagonist was right in saying that his pen carried "the hot shot of a musket." Unfortunately, while Harvey was smarting under these insulting gibes and jests, the jester himself got into public trouble. Little is known of the circumstance which led the Queen's Privy Council, in the summer of 1597, to throw Nash into the Fleet Prison, but it was connected with the performance of a comedy called "The Isle of Dogs," which gave offence to the authorities. This play was not printed, and is no longer in existence. The Lord Admiral's Company of actors, which produced it, had its licence withdrawn until the 27th of August, when Nash was probably liberated. Gabriel Harvey was not the man to allow this event to go unnoticed. He hurried into print with his "Trimming of Thomas Nash," 1597, a pamphlet of the most outrageous abuse addressed "to the polypragmatical, parasitupocritical and pantophainoudendecontical puppy Thomas Nash," and adorned with a portrait of that gentleman in irons, with heavy gyves upon his ankles. According to Nash, however, the part of "The Isle of Dogs" which was his composition was so trifling in extent that his imprisonment was a gratuitous act of oppression. How the play with this pleasing title offended has not been handed down to us.
Gabriel Harvey must have felt, upon reading "Have with you to Saffron Walden," that his rival was right in saying his writing had "the hot shot of a musket." Unfortunately, while Harvey was hurt by these insulting jabs and jokes, the joker himself ran into public trouble. Not much is known about the circumstances that led the Queen's Privy Council, in the summer of 1597, to throw Nash into the Fleet Prison, but it was related to the performance of a comedy called "The Isle of Dogs," which offended the authorities. This play wasn't printed and no longer exists. The Lord Admiral's Company of actors, who produced it, had their license revoked until August 27th, when Nash was likely released. Gabriel Harvey wasn't the type to let this event go unnoticed. He quickly published "Trimming of Thomas Nash," 1597, a pamphlet filled with the most outrageous insults aimed "at the polypragmatical, parasitupocritical and pantophainoudendecontical puppy Thomas Nash," and featured a drawing of him in chains, with heavy shackles on his ankles. According to Nash, however, the part of "The Isle of Dogs" that he wrote was so small that his imprisonment was an unnecessary act of oppression. How the play with this appealing title caused offense remains unclear.
Nash was now a literary celebrity, and yet it is at this precise moment that his figure begins to fade out of sight For the next two years he is not known to have made any public appearance. In 1599 he published the best of all his books; it was unfortunately the latest "Nash's Lenten Stuff; or, the Praise of the Red Herring" is an encomium on the hospitable town of Yarmouth, to which, in the autumn of 1597, he had fled for consolation, and in which, through six happy weeks, he had found what he sought The "kind entertainment and benign hospitality" of the compassionate clime of Yarmouth deserve from the poor exile a cordial return, and, accordingly, he sings the praise of the Red Herring as richly as if his mouth were still tingling with the delicate bloater. In this book, Nash is kind enough to explain to us the cause of some of the peculiarities of his style. His endeavour has been to be Italianate, and "of all styles I most affect and strive to imitate Aretine's."
Nash was now a literary celebrity, but it’s at this exact moment that his presence starts to fade away. For the next two years, he doesn’t seem to have made any public appearances. In 1599, he published his best work; unfortunately, it was also the last. "Nash's Lenten Stuff; or, the Praise of the Red Herring" is a tribute to the welcoming town of Yarmouth, where he sought solace in the autumn of 1597 and found what he was looking for during six enjoyable weeks. The "kind entertainment and generous hospitality" of the compassionate Yarmouth deserve a heartfelt response from the poor exile, and so he praises the Red Herring as if his mouth were still savoring the delicate bloater. In this book, Nash kindly explains some of the quirks of his style. His goal has been to adopt an Italian flair, and “of all styles, I most admire and try to imitate Aretine's.”
Whether he was deeply read in the works of il divino Aretino, we may doubt; but it is easy to see that this Scourge of Princes, the very type of the emancipated Italian of the sixteenth century, might have a vague and dazzling attraction for his little eager English imitator.
Whether he had thoroughly studied the works of il divino Aretino is questionable; however, it's clear that this Scourge of Princes, the perfect example of the liberated Italian of the sixteenth century, could hold a mysterious and captivating appeal for his eager English follower.
Be that as it may, "Lenten Stuff" gives us evidence that Nash had now arrived at a complete mastery of the fantastic and irrelevant manner which he aimed at. This book is admirably composed, if we can bring ourselves to admit that the genre is ever admirable. The writer's vocabulary has become opulent, his phrases flash and detonate, each page is full of unconnected sparks and electrical discharges. A sort of aurora borealis of wit streams and rustles across the dusky surface, amusing to the reader, but discontinuous, and insufficient to illuminate the matter in hand. It is extraordinary that a man can make so many picturesque, striking, and apparently apposite remarks, and yet leave us so frequently in doubt as to his meaning. If this was the result of the imitation of Aretino, Nash's choice of a master was scarcely a fortunate one.
Even so, "Lenten Stuff" shows that Nash had fully mastered the fantastic and irrelevant style he aimed for. This book is well-written, if we can accept that the genre is ever commendable. The author's vocabulary is rich, his phrases sparkle and explode, and each page is filled with disjointed sparks and bursts of energy. A sort of aurora borealis of wit flows and rustles across the dark surface, entertaining the reader but lacking continuity, insufficient to clarify the topic at hand. It’s remarkable how someone can make so many vivid, striking, and seemingly relevant comments, yet still leave us frequently unsure of his meaning. If this was the result of imitating Aretino, Nash’s choice of a mentor was not particularly wise.
Thomas Nash was now thirty-two years of age, and with the publication of "Lenten Stuff" we lose sight of him. His old play of "Summers' Last Will and Testament" was printed in 1600, and he probably died in that year. The song at the close of that comedy or masque reads like the swan-song of its author:—
Thomas Nash was now thirty-two years old, and with the release of "Lenten Stuff," we lose track of him. His earlier play "Summers' Last Will and Testament" was published in 1600, and he likely died that same year. The song at the end of that comedy or masque feels like the final farewell of its author:—
Autumn hath all the summer's fruitful treasure; Gone is our sport, fled is poor [Nash's] pleasure! Short days, sharp days, long nights come on apace; Ah! who shall hide us from the winter's face? Cold doth increase, the sickness will not cease, And here we lie, God knows, with little ease: From winter, plague and pestilence, Good Lord, deliver us! London doth mourn, Lambeth is quite forlorn, Trades cry, Woe worth that ever they were born; The want of term is town and city's harm. Close chambers we do want, to keep us warm; Long banished must we live from our friends: This low-built house will bring us to our ends. From winter, plague and pestilence, Good Lord, deliver us!
Autumn has taken all the summer's bounty; Our fun is gone, and poor [Nash's] joy has fled! Short days, cold days, long nights are coming quickly; Ah! who will shield us from winter's chill? The cold is growing, the sickness won't go away, And here we lie, God knows, with little comfort: From winter, plague, and pestilence, Good Lord, deliver us! London mourns, Lambeth is utterly desolate, Trades cry out, Woe that they were ever born; The lack of the term hurts town and city. We need warm rooms to keep us cozy; We must live long banished from our friends: This low house will bring us to our end. From winter, plague, and pestilence, Good Lord, deliver us!
Whether pestilence or winter slew him, we do not know. In 1601 Fitzgeoffrey published a short Latin elegy on Nash in his "Affaniae," alluding in happy phrase to the twin lightnings of his armed tongue and his terrible pen; and Nash had six lines of tempered praise in "The Return from Parnassus." But all we know of the cause or manner of Nash's death has to be collected from a passage in "A Knight's Conjuring," 1607, written by the satirist on whom his mantle descended, Thomas Dekker. Nash is seen advancing along the Elysian Fields:—
Whether it was disease or winter that killed him, we don't know. In 1601, Fitzgeoffrey published a short Latin elegy about Nash in his "Affaniae," happily referencing the dual brilliance of his sharp wit and his powerful writing; and Nash received six lines of measured praise in "The Return from Parnassus." However, all we really know about the cause or circumstances of Nash's death comes from a passage in "A Knight's Conjuring," 1607, written by the satirist who took up his legacy, Thomas Dekker. Nash is depicted walking through the Elysian Fields:—
"Marlowe, Greene, and Peele had got under the shades of a large vine, laughing to see Nash, that was but newly come to their college, still haunted with the sharp and satirical spirit that followed him here upon earth; for Nash inveighed bitterly, as he had wont to do, against dry-fisted patrons, accusing them of his untimely death, because if they had given his Muse that cherishment which she most worthily deserved, he had fed to his dying day on fat capons, burnt sack and sugar, and not so desperately have ventured his life and shortened his days by keeping company with pickle herrings."
"Marlowe, Greene, and Peele were sitting under the shade of a large vine, laughing at the sight of Nash, who had just arrived at their college, still carrying the sharp and sarcastic attitude that followed him throughout his life. Nash was angrily criticizing, as he often did, the stingy patrons, blaming them for his premature death. He claimed that if they had given his Muse the support she truly deserved, he would have lived comfortably on rich food, sweet wine, and sugar, instead of risking his life and shortening his days by hanging around with pickled herring."
This looks as though Nash died of a disease attributed to coarse and unwholesome cheap food. His fame proved to be singularly ephemeral. So far as I am aware, no book of his was reprinted after his death, with the single exception of "Christ's Tears over Jerusalem," which was issued again in 1613. His name was mentioned and some interest in his writings was awakened at the close of the next century by Winstanley and by Langbaine, but Oldys, the celebrated antiquary, was the first person who seriously endeavoured to trace the incidents of his life.
This seems to suggest that Nash died from an illness linked to cheap, unhealthy food. His fame turned out to be quite short-lived. As far as I know, none of his books were reprinted after he passed away, except for "Christ's Tears over Jerusalem," which was released again in 1613. His name was mentioned and some interest in his writings was sparked at the end of the next century by Winstanley and Langbaine, but Oldys, the well-known antiquarian, was the first to seriously try to piece together the events of his life.
Dr. A. B. Grosart saved the works of Nash from all danger of destruction by printing an issue of them, in six volumes, for fifty private subscribers, in 1883-85. But he still remains completely inaccessible to the general reader.
Dr. A. B. Grosart preserved Nash's works from potential destruction by publishing a six-volume edition for fifty private subscribers between 1883 and 1885. However, his work still remains completely unavailable to the general reader.
Edmund Gosse.
Edmund Gosse.
THE VNFORTVNATE TRAVELLER.
The Life of Iacke Wilton.
LONDON.

To THE RIGHT HONORABLE LORD Henrie Wriothsley,
To THE RIGHT HONORABLE LORD Henrie Wriothsley,
Earle of sovthhampton, and baron OF TICHFEELD.
Earl of Southampton and Baron of Tichfield.
Ingenvovs honorable Lord, I know not what blinde custome methodicall antiquity hath thrust vpon vs, to dedicate such books as we publish, to one great man or other; In which respect, least anie man should challenge these my papers as goods vncustomd, and so, extend vpon them as forfeite to contempt, to the seale of your excellent censure loe here I present them to bee seene and allowed. Prize them as high or as low as you list: if you set anie price on them, I hold my labor well satisfide. Long haue I desired to approoue my wit vnto you. My reuerent duetifull thoughts (euen from their infancie) haue been retayners to your glorie. Now at last I haue enforst an opportunitie to plead my deuoted minde. All that in this phantasticall Treatise I can promise, is some reasonable conueyance of historie, & varietie of mirth. By diuers of my good frends haue I been dealt with to employ my dul pen in this kinde, it being a cleane different vaine from other my former courses of writing. How wel or ill I haue done in it, I am ignorant: (the eye that sees roundabout it selfe, sees not into it selfe): only your Honours applauding encouragement hath power to make mee arrogant. Incomprehensible is the heigth of your spirit both in heroical resolution and matters of conceit. Vnrepriueably perisheth that booke whatsoeuer to wast paper, which on the diamond rocke of your iudgement disasterly chanceth to be shipwrackt. A dere louer and cherisher you are, as well of the louers of Poets, as of Poets themselues. Amongst their sacred number I dare not ascribe my selfe, though now and then I speak English: that smal braine I haue, to no further vse I conuert, saue to be kinde to my frends, and fatall to my enemies. A new brain, a new wit, a new stile, a new soule will I get mee, to canonize your name to posteritie, if in this my first attempt I be not taxed of presumption. Of your gracious fauor I despaire not, for I am not altogether Fames outcast. This handfull of leaues I offer to your view, to the leaues on trees I compare, which as they cannot grow of themselues except they haue some branches or boughes to cleaue too, & with whose iuice and sap they be euermore recreated & nourisht: so except these vnpolisht leaues of mine haue some braunch of Nobilitie whereon to depend and cleaue, and with the vigorous nutriment of whose authorized commendation they may be continually fosterd and refresht, neuer wil they grow to the worlds good liking, but forthwith fade and die on the first houre of their birth. Your Lordship is the large spreading branch of renown, from whence these my idle leaues seeke to deriue their whole nourishing: it resteth you either scornfully shake them off, as wormeaten & worthies, or in pity preserue them and cherish them, for some litle summer frute you hope to finde amongst them.
Dear Honorable Lord, I don't understand why it's a common tradition to dedicate the books we publish to some great figure. To avoid anyone claiming these papers are unclaimed goods and thus deserving of neglect, I present them to you for your approval. Value them however you wish: if you assign any worth to them, I consider my effort worthwhile. I've long wanted to showcase my talent to you. Since my early days, I've held you in high regard. At last, I have the chance to express my loyalty and devotion. In this whimsical treatise, I can only promise a fair conveyance of history and a variety of entertainment. Many of my good friends have encouraged me to try my hand at this new style of writing, which is quite different from my previous work. I have no idea how well I’ve done: it's hard for someone who observes the outside to see inside themselves. Only your recognition can make me feel proud. The height of your spirit is beyond comprehension, both in heroic resolve and creative matters. Any book that ends up as wasted paper due to poor judgment will surely perish without redemption. You are a dear lover and supporter, not only of poets but also of poetry enthusiasts. Although I hesitate to call myself among their sacred ranks, I occasionally write in English. The little brain I possess is only useful for kindness to friends and mischief to foes. I plan to conjure a new mindset, wit, style, and spirit to honor your name for future generations, provided I am not accused of arrogance in this first attempt. I don’t despair of your favor, for I am not entirely a lost cause. I offer this handful of leaves to your attention, likening them to the leaves on trees that cannot grow without branches to cling to, nourished by their sap. Similarly, unless my unrefined work has some noble branch to rely on, and the nourishment of your commendation, it will never flourish in the world’s eyes but will fade and die right after it’s born. Your Lordship is the great branch of renown from which these leaves hope to draw their life. It is up to you to either dismiss them scornfully as worthless or, out of compassion, preserve and nurture them, hoping for some small fruit from summer.
Your Honors in all humble seruice: Tho: Nashe.
Your Honors in all humble service: Tho: Nashe.
TO THE GENTLEMEN READERS,
Gentlemen, in my absence (through the Printers ouersight and my bad writing) in the leaues of C. and D. these errours are ouerslipt:
Gentlemen, during my absence (due to the printer's oversight and my poor handwriting), the errors in the sections C and D were overlooked:
C. pag. 2. lin. 33. for sweating read sneaking. Pag. 3. li. 1. for hogges read barres, lin. 7. for Calipsus, read Rhæsus. Pag. 4. lin. 34. for Liue read I liue. Pag. 5. li. 14. for vpon his read vpon him his. Pag. 7. lin. 13. for drild read dyu'd. lin. 22. (for colour, read collar nor his hatband).
C. pag. 2. lin. 33. change "sweating" to "sneaking." Pag. 3. li. 1. change "hogges" to "barres," lin. 7. change "Calipsus" to "Rhæsus." Pag. 4. lin. 34. change "Liue" to "I live." Pag. 5. li. 14. change "vpon his" to "upon him his." Pag. 7. lin. 13. change "drild" to "dyu'd." lin. 22. (change "colour" to "collar" and remove "nor his hatband").
D. Pag. 1. lin. 2. for blacke read cape. lin. 5. for fastens read thirleth. lin. 7. for badge read budge, lin. 8. for shinne read chinne. lin. 11. for in this begun read thinking in. Pag. 3. lin. 33. for increased then read inclosed them. Pag. 5. lin. 8. for threed button, read brest like a thred bottom. Pag. 8. lin. 3. for Essa read Ossa. lin. 4. for dissolution read desolation. lin. 13. betweene also, and but read If you know Christianitie, you know the Fathers of the Church also. lin. 18. for quocunque read qua gente.
D. Pag. 1. lin. 2. for black read cape. lin. 5. for fastens read thirleth. lin. 7. for badge read budge, lin. 8. for shinne read chinne. lin. 11. for in this begun read thinking in. Pag. 3. lin. 33. for increased then read inclosed them. Pag. 5. lin. 8. for threed button, read brest like a thred bottom. Pag. 8. lin. 3. for Essa read Ossa. lin. 4. for dissolution read desolation. lin. 13. between also, and but read If you know Christianity, you know the Fathers of the Church also. lin. 18. for quocunque read qua gente.
Other literall faults there are which I omit
Other literal mistakes exist that I will leave out.
Yours T. N.
Yours, T.N.
[Note.—The foregoing corrigenda are printed as part of the original edition, though they have been corrected in the text.]
[Note.—The changes mentioned above are included as part of the original edition, although they have been updated in the text.]

THE INDVCTION TO THE DAPPER MOVNSIER PAGES OF THE COVRT.
Gallant squires, haue amongst you: at mumchance I meane not, for so I might chaunce come to short commons, but at nouus, noua, nouum, which is in English, newes of the maker. A proper fellow Page of yours called Iacke Wilton, by mee commends him vnto you, and hath bequeathed for wast paper heere amongst you certaine pages of his misfortunes. In any case keep them preciously as a Priuie token of his good will towards you. If there be some better than other, he craues you would honor them in their death so much, as to drie and kindle Tobacco with them: for a need he permits you to wrap veluet pantofles in them also, so they be not woe begone at the heeles, or weather-beaten like a blacke head with graye haires, or mangie at the toes like an ape about the mouth. But as you loue good fellowship and ames ace, rather turne them to stop mustard-pots, than the Grocers shuld haue one patch of them to wrap mace in: a strong hot costly spice it is, which aboue all things hee hates. To anie vse about meate or drinke put them too and spare not, for they cannot doo their Countrey better seruice. Printers are madde whoresons, allow them some of them for napkins. lost a little nerer to the matter and the purpose. Memorandum, euerie one of you after the perusing of this Pamphlet, is to prouide him a case of ponyards, that if you come in companie with any man which shall dispraise it or speake against it, you may straight cry Sic respondeo, and giue him the stockado. It stands not with your honors (I assure yee) to haue a Gentleman and a Page abusde in his absence. Secondly, whereas you were wont to sweare men on a pantofle to bee true to your puissaunt order, you shall sweeare them on nothing but this Chronicle of the King of Pages henceforward. Thirdly, it shalbe lawfull for anie whatsoeuer to play with false dice in a corner on the couer of this foresaid Acts and monuments. None of the fraternitie of the minorites shall refuse it for a pawne in the times of famine and necessitie. Euery Stationers stall they passe by whether by day or by night they shall put off their hats too, and make a low leg, in regard their grand printed Capitano is there entoombd. It shalbe flat treason for any of this forementioned catalogue of the point trussers, once to name him within fortie foote of an ale-house. Marry the tauerne is honorable. Many speciall graue articles more had I to giue you in charge, which your wisdomes waiting together at the bottome of the great Chamber staires, or sitting in a porch (your parlament house) may better consider of than I can deliuer: onely let this suffice for a tast to the text & a bit to pull on a good wit with, as a rasher on the coales is to pull on a cup of wine. Heigh passe, come aloft: euery man of you take your places, and heare Iacke Wilton tell his owne tale.
Brave squires, gather around: I'm not joking, because that might lead to a shortage of supplies, but rather to nouus, noua, nouum, which means news about the maker. A fine young man from your group named Jack Wilton sends his regards and has left behind some pages of his misfortunes for you to use as scrap paper. Make sure to keep them safe as a Priuie gesture of goodwill towards you. If any are better than the others, he asks that you honor them even in their death by using them to dry and light Tobacco: if needed, you can also wrap velvet slippers in them as long as they aren’t too worn out at the heels, weathered like a black head with gray hairs, or ragged at the toes like an ape with a messy mouth. But as you value friendship and fair play, it’s better to use them to stop mustard pots than let the grocer have even a scrap of them to wrap up mace: a strong, expensive spice that he hates above all else. Use them for any purpose related to food or drink without holding back, for they cannot serve their country better. Printers are crazy, so give them some for napkins. Moving a bit closer to the topic at hand: Memorandum, each of you after reading this pamphlet is to get yourself a case of daggers, so that if you come across anyone who criticizes it or speaks against it, you can immediately shout Sic respondeo and give him the stockado. It doesn’t reflect well on your honor (I assure you) to allow a Gentleman and a Page to be insulted in their absence. Secondly, since you used to swear men on a slipper to be true to your powerful order, from now on you shall swear them on nothing but this Chronicle of the King of Pages. Thirdly, it will be permissible for anyone to play with loaded dice in a corner on the cover of these stated Acts and monuments. None of the minor orders shall refuse it as a pledge in times of famine and need. Every stationery shop they pass by, whether by day or night, they shall take off their hats and bow low, in respect to where their grand printed Capitano is buried. It will be outright treason for anyone from this specified list of point trussers to mention him within forty feet of a tavern. Mind you, the tavern is honorable. I had many more serious rules to give you, which your wise selves could consider better while waiting at the bottom of the great chamber stairs or sitting in a porch (your parliament house), than I can express: just let this serve as a taste of the text & a spark to ignite good wit, like a rasher on the coals before a cup of wine. Heigh ho, come up: each of you take your places, and listen to Jack Wilton tell his own story.


THE VNFORTVNATE TRAVELLER.
The Unfortunate Traveler.
Abovt that time that the terror of the world, and feauer quartan of the French, Henrie the eight, (the onely true subiect of Chronicles) aduanced his standard against the two hundred and fiftie towers of Turney and Turwin, and had the Empereur and all the nobility of Flanders, Holland, and Brabant as mercenarie attendants on his fulsailed fortune, I Iacke Wilton (a Gentleman at lest) was a certaine kinde of an appendix or page, belonging or appertaining in or vnto the confines of the English court, where what my credit was, a number of my creditors that I coosned can testifie, Cælum petimus stultitia, which of vs all is not a sinner. Be it knowen to as many as will paie monie inough to peruse my storie, that I followed the campe or the court, or the court & the camp, when Turwin lost her maidenhead, & opened her gates to more than Iane Trosse did. There did I (soft let me drinke before I goe anie further) raigne sole king of the cans and black iackes, prince of the pigmeis, countie paltaine of cleane strawe and prouant, and to conclude, Lord high regent of rashers of the coles and red herring cobs. Paulo maiora canamus: well, to the purpose. What stratagemicall actes and monuments do you thinke an ingenious infant of my age might enact? you will saie, it were sufficient if he slurre a die, pawne his master to the vtmost pennie, & minister the oath on the pantoffle arteficially. These are signes of good education, I must confesse, and arguments of In grace and vertue to proceed. Oh but Aliquid latet quod non patet, theres a farther path I must trace: examples confirme, list Lordings to my proceedinges. Whosoeuer is acquainted with the state of a campe, vnderstands that in it be many quarters, & yet not so many as on London bridge. In those quarters are many companies: Much companie, much knauerie, as true as that olde adage, Much curtesie, much subtiltie. Those companies, like a great deale of corne, doe yeeld some chaffe, the corne are cormorants, the chaffe are good fellowes, which are quickly blowen to nothing, with bearing a light hart in a light purse. Amongst this chaffe was I winnowing my wits to liue merily, and by my troth so I did: the prince could but command men spend theyr bloud in his seruice, I coulde make them spend all the monie they had for my pleasure. But pouerty in the end parts frends, though I was prince of their purses, and exacted of my vnthrift subiects, as much liquid allégeance as anie keisar in the world could do, yet where it is not to be had the king must loose his right, want cannot be withstood, men can doe no more than they can doe, what remained then, but the foxes case must help, when the lions skin is out at the elbowes.
Around that time, when the terror of the world, Henry the Eighth—the only true subject of history—raised his banner against the two hundred and fifty towers of Tournai and Turwin, and had the Emperor along with all the nobility of Flanders, Holland, and Brabant as mercenary followers of his soaring fortune, I, Jack Wilton (a gentleman at least), was a sort of appendix or page, belonging to the realm of the English court, where my reputation, as many of my creditors whom I defrauded can attest, was not particularly stellar. Let's be honest, who among us isn’t a sinner? It should be known to anyone willing to pay enough to read my story that I followed the camp or the court, or both, when Turwin lost its maidenhood and opened its gates wider than Jane Trosse ever did. There, let me have a drink before I go any further—I ruled as the sole king of the cans and flagons, prince of the pygmies, count palatine of clean straw and provisions, and to sum up, Lord High Regent of rashers of coal and red herring cobs. Let’s get to the point: what clever acts and monuments do you think a sharp young thinker like me could pull off? You might say it would be enough if I just played some dice, pawned my master for every last penny, and swore an oath on a shoe cleverly. I must admit, those are signs of good upbringing and arguments for grace and virtue to flourish. Oh, but there’s more beneath the surface than meets the eye; there’s a deeper route I need to explore: examples validate, so listen closely to my account. Whoever is familiar with the state of a camp knows there are many quarters, yet not so many as on London Bridge. In those quarters, there are numerous companies: Much company, much deception, just like the old saying, “Much courtesy, much cunning.” These companies, like a large heap of grain, produce some chaff; the grain is the greedy, while the chaff are the good-natured folks who soon blow away, carrying a light heart with a light purse. Among this chaff, I was sifting my wits to live joyfully, and by my word, I did! The prince could only command men to spill their blood in his service, but I could make them spend all their money for my enjoyment. However, poverty eventually drives away friends; though I was the prince of their purses, demanding from my extravagant subjects as much loyalty as any emperor could require, when it’s simply not available, the king must lose his claim. Want cannot be resisted; men can only do what they can do. What remained then? Well, the cunning fox must step in when the lion’s skin is wearing thin.
There was a Lord in the campe, let him be a Lord of misrule, if you wil, for he kept a plaine alehouse without welt or gard of anie Iuibush, and solde syder and cheese by pint and by pound to all that came (at that verie name of syder, I can but sigh, there is so much of it in renish wine now a dayes). Wei, Tendit ad sydera virtus, thers great vertue belongs (I can tell you) to a cup of syder, and verie good men haue solde it, and at sea it is Aqua colestis, but thats neither heere nor there, if it had no other patrone but this peere of quart pots to authorize it, it were sufficient This great Lorde, this worthie Lord, this noble Lord, thought no scorne (Lord haue mercy vpon vs) to haue his great veluet breeches larded with the droppings of this daintie liquor, & yet he was an olde senator, a cauelier of an ancient house, as it might appeare by the armes of his ancestrie, drawen very amiably in chalke, on the in side of his tent doore.
There was a lord in the camp, a true lord of mischief, if you will, because he ran a simple tavern without any fancy decorations or guards, and he sold cider and cheese by the pint and pound to everyone who showed up (just the mention of cider makes me sigh; there's so much of it in Rhine wine these days). Well, Tendit ad sydera virtus, there’s a lot of goodness in a cup of cider, and some very good men have sold it, and at sea, it’s Aqua colestis, but that’s neither here nor there. Even if it had no other supporter than this peer of quart pots to back it, that would be enough. This great lord, this worthy lord, this noble lord, didn’t mind (Lord have mercy on us) if his fancy velvet breeches were stained with drops of this fine drink, and yet he was an old senator, a cavalier from an ancient family, as shown by the lovely coat of arms of his ancestors drawn in chalk inside the door of his tent.
He and no other was the man, I chose out to damne with a lewd monylesse deuice: for comming to him on a daie, as he was counting his barrels, & setting the price in chalke on the head of euerie one of them, I did my dutie verie deuoutly, and tolde his alie honor, I had matters of some secrecie to impart vnto him, if it pleased him to grant me priuate audience. With me young Wilton quoth he, marie and shalt: bring vs a pint of syder of a fresh tap into the three cups here, wash the pot, so into a backe roome he lead mee, where after hee had spit on his finger, and pickt off two or three moats of his olde moth eaten veluet cap, and spunged and wrong all the rumatike driuell from his ill fauoured Goates beard, he badde me declare my minde, and there vpon he dranke to me on the same. I vp with a long circumstance, alias, a cunning shift of the seuenteenes, & discourst vnto him what entire affection I had borne him time out of mind, partly for the high discent and linage from whence he sprung, & partly for the tender care and prouident respect he had of poore soldiers, that whereas the vastitie of that place (which afforded them no indifferent supplie of drinke or of victuals) might humble them to some extremity, and so weaken their hands, he vouchsafed in his own person to be a victualer to the campe (a rare example of magnificence & honorable curtesie) and diligently prouided, that without farre trauel, euery man might for his money haue syder and cheese his bellyfull, nor did he sell his cheese by the way onely, or his syder by the great, but abast himselfe with his owne hands, to take a shoomakers knife (a homely instrument for such a high personage to touch) and cut it out equally like a true iusticiarie, in little pennyworthes, that it woulde doo a man good for to looke vpon. So likewise of his syder, the pore man might haue his moderate draught of it (as there is a moderation in all things) as well for his doit or his dandiprat, as the rich man for his halfe souse or his denier. Not so much, quoth I, but this tapsters linnen apron, which you weare before you, to protect your appareil from the imperfections of the spigot, most amply bewrais your lowly minde. I speake it with teares, too fewe such humble spirited noble men haue we, that will draw drinke in linen aprons. Why you are euerie childs felow, any man that comes vnder the name of a souldier and a goodfellowe, you will sitte and beare companie to the last pot, yea, and you take in as good part the homely phrase of mine host heeres to you, as if one saluted you by all the titles of your baronie. These considerations, I saie, which the world suffers to slippe by in the channell of carelesnes, haue moued me in ardent zeale of your welfare, to forewarne you of some dangers that haue beset you & your barrels. At the name of dangers hee start up, and bounst with his fist on the boord so hard, that his Tapster ouerhearing him, cried anone anone sir, by and by, and came and made a low leg and askt him what he lackt. Hee was readie to haue striken his Tapster, for interrupting him in attention of this his so much desired relation, but for feare of displeasing me he moderated his furie, and onely sending him for the other fresh pint, wild him looke to the barre, and come when hee is cald with a deuilles name. Well, at his earnest importunitie, after I had moistned my lips, to make my lie runne glib to his iourneies end, forward I went as followeth. It chaunced me the other night, amongst other pages, to attend where the king with his Lords, and many chiefe leaders sate in counsel, there amongst sundrie serious matters that were debated, and intelligences from the enemy giuen vp, it was priuily informed (no villains to these priuie informers) that you, euen you that I now speak to, would I had no tongue to tell the rest, by this drink it grieues me so I am not able to repeate it. Nowe was my dronken Lord redie to hang himself for the end of the ful point, and ouer my necke he throws himselfe verie lubberly, and intreated me as I was a proper young Gentleman, and euer lookt for pleasure at his hands, soone to rid him out of this hell of suspence, & resolue him of the rest, then fell hee on his knees, wrong his handes, and I thinke, on my conscience, wept out all the syder that he had dronke in a weeke before, to moue me to haue pitie on him, he rose and put his rustie ring on my finger, gaue me his greasie purse with that single money that was in it, promised to make mee his heire, & a thousand more fauours, if I would expire the miserie of his vnspeakable tormenting vncertaintie. I being by nature inclined to Mercie (for indeed I knew two or three good wenches of that name) bad him harden his eares, & not make his eyes abortiue before their time, and he should haue the inside of my brest turnd outward, heare such a tale as would tempt the vtmost strength of life to attend it, and not die in the middest of it. Why (quoth I) my selfe, that am but a poore childish welwiller of yours, with the verie thought, that a man of your desert and state, by a number of pesants and varlets should be so iniuriously abused in hugger mugger, haue wept al my vrine vpward. The wheele vnder our Citie bridge, carries not so much water ouer the city, as my braine hath welled forth gushing streames of sorow. I haue wept so immoderatly and lauishly, that I thought verily my palat had bin turned to pissing conduit in London. My eies haue bin dronk, outragiously dronke, with giuing but ordinary entercourse through their sea-circled Hands to my distilling dreariment What shal I saie? that which malice hath sayde is the meere ouerthrow & murder of your daies. Change not your colour, none can slander a cleere conscience to it selfe, receiue all your fraught of misfortune in at once.
He was the man I chose to ruin with a scandalous trick. One day, when I approached him as he was counting his barrels and writing the prices in chalk on each one, I did my duty respectfully and told his alie honor that I had some sensitive information to share if he would grant me a private audience. "Come in, young Wilton," he said. "Sure, get us a fresh pint of cider in these three cups, and wash the pot." He led me into a back room, where, after spitting on his finger and picking off two or three bits of dust from his old, tattered velvet cap, and wiping the grime from his unkempt goatee, he told me to share my thoughts. With that, he took a drink in my honor. I started with a lengthy explanation, a clever way of building up to my points, and began to express the deep admiration I had for him over time, partly because of the noble lineage he came from, and partly because of the care he showed for poor soldiers. Where the large area around him offered next to no decent supplies of food or drink, which could have left them in dire straits, he took it upon himself to provide for the camp—a rare example of generosity and honorable kindness. He made sure that without going far, every man could get his fill of cider and cheese for his money, and he didn't just sell cheese or cider by the large quantities; he personally cut it into small portions with a shoemaker's knife—quite a down-to-earth action for someone of his status—so that it would be pleasing to the eye as well. Just like with his cider, a poor man could have his fair share, whether he had a little or a lot, just as the wealthy could. "It's not much," I said, "but this tavern keeper's apron you're wearing to keep your clothes clean shows how humble you are. I'm saying this with tears; we have far too few noble men like you who will serve drinks in linen aprons. You are everyone's friend; any man who comes under the name of soldier or good fellow can sit with you for the last drink, and you take the common phrases from the tavern keeper with all the grace as if he were addressing you with all the titles of your nobility. These thoughts, which the world often overlooks, have spurred me on to urgently warn you of some dangers that are surrounding you and your barrels." At the mention of dangers, he jumped up and slammed his fist on the table so hard that his tavern keeper overheard and quickly rushed over, asking what he needed. He was ready to strike the tavern keeper for interrupting him while he was focused on sharing what he desperately wanted to say, but out of concern for displeasing me, he calmed down and just told him to fetch another fresh pint and to be ready when called. As he insisted, after moistening my lips to help my words flow smoothly, I continued. The other night, among other pages, I attended a council meeting with the king and his lords, where many serious matters were debated, and intelligence from the enemy was discussed. It was secretly revealed (not by any villains) that you, yes you, the one I am speaking to, oh how I wish I didn’t have to say the rest. It pains me so much that I cannot repeat it. My drunken lord was ready to hang himself upon hearing the final point, throwing himself over my neck rather clumsily, pleading with me, as someone who looks for pleasures from him, to quickly relieve him from this hell of uncertainty and to tell him the rest. Then he fell to his knees, wrung his hands, and I swear, I think he cried out all the cider he had drunk in the past week to plead for my mercy. He got up and slipped his rusty ring onto my finger, gave me his greasy purse with the single coin inside, promised to make me his heir, and offered me many more favors if I would end the misery of his unbearable torment of uncertainty. Being naturally inclined to Mercy (for indeed I knew a couple of good women named that), I told him to strengthen his heart and not let his eyes betray him too soon, and he would get to hear a story that would move even the strongest to pay attention and not die in the middle of it. "Why," I said, "I myself, a mere humble admirer of yours, have wept so much at the thought that someone of your worth and status could be so unjustly harmed by a bunch of peasants and lowlifes that it has made me cry out an ocean of sorrow. The wheel under our city bridge flows not as much water through the city as my tears have spilled forth. I have cried so excessively that I thought my palate had turned into a conduit, pouring out tears. My eyes have been drunk, outrageously drunk, merely from the ordinary interactions through their sea-surrounded hands, contributing to my sadness. What can I say? What malice brings is simply the destruction and ruin of your days. Don’t change your expression; no one can tarnish a clear conscience. Embrace all the misfortune you have faced at once."
It is buzzed in the kings head that you are a secret friend to the enemy, & vnder pretence of getting a license to furnish the campe with syder and such like prouant, you haue furnisht the enemy, and in emptie barrells sent letters of discouerie, and come innumerable, I might well haue left here, for by this time his white liuer had mixt it selfe with the white of his eie, & both were turned vpwardes, as if they had offered themselues a fayre white for death to shoote at. The troth was, I was verie loth mine hoste and I should parte to heauen with dry lips, wherefore the best meanes that I could imagine to wake him out of his traunce, was to crie loude in his eare, hough host, whats to pay, will no man looke to the reckning heere and in plaine veritie, it tooke expected effect, for with the noise he started and bustled, like a man that had beene scard with fyre out of his sleepe, and ranne hastily to his Tapster, and all to belaboured him about the eares, for letting Gentlemen call so long and not looke in to them. Presently he remembred himselfe, and had like to haue fallen into his memento againe, But that I met him halfe waies, and askt his Lordship what he meant to slip his necke out of the coller so sodainly, and being reuiued, strike his tapster so rashly.
It's been rumored in the king's circle that you are secretly allied with the enemy. Under the guise of obtaining permission to supply the camp with cider and other provisions, you've actually supplied the enemy and sent letters of intelligence in empty barrels. By now, his white liver would have mixed with the white of his eye, both rolled back as if presenting themselves as a target for death. Honestly, I was very reluctant for my host and me to part ways with dry lips, so I figured the best way to wake him from his stupor was to shout loudly in his ear, "Hey host, what's to pay? Will no one check the bill here?" To my surprise, it worked as expected. He jumped up and hustled about like a man startled awake by fire, rushing to his bartender and scolding him for letting gentlemen call for so long without checking on them. He quickly remembered himself and almost fell back into his stupor again, but I met him halfway and asked his Lordship why he was suddenly trying to slip out so quickly and why he struck his bartender so carelessly.
Oh, quoth he, I am bought & solde for doing my Country such good seruice as I haue done. They are afraid of mee, because my good deedes haue brought me into such estimation with the communalty, I see, I see it is not for the lambe to liue with the wolfe.
Oh, he said, I am bought and sold for doing my country such good service as I have done. They are afraid of me because my good deeds have brought me such respect from the community. I see, I see it is not for the lamb to live with the wolf.
The world is well amended, thought I, with your Sidership, such another fortie yeeres nappe together as Epemenides had, would make you a perfect wise man. Answere me, quoth he, my wise young Wilton, is it true that I am thus vnderhand dead and buried by these bad tongues?
The world is pretty well taken care of, I thought, with your leadership; another forty years of rest like Epimenides had would turn you into a truly wise man. "Answer me," he said, "my wise young Wilton, is it true that I am secretly dead and buried by these gossiping tongues?"
Nay, quoth I, you shall pardon me, for I haue spoken too much alreadie, no definitiue sentence of death shall march out of my wel meaning lips, they haue but lately suckt milke, and shall they so sodainly change theyr food and seeke after bloud?
No, I said, you must forgive me, for I have already spoken too much. No final sentence of death will come from my well-meaning lips; they have only recently tasted milk, so should they suddenly change their diet and seek blood?
Oh but, quoth he, a mans friend is his friend, fill the other pint Tapster, what sayd the king, did hee beleeue it when hee heard it, I pray thee say, I sweare to thee by my nobility, none in the worlde shall euer be made priuie, that I receiued anie light of this matter from thee.
Oh but, he said, a man's friend is his friend. Fill the other pint, bartender. What did the king say? Did he believe it when he heard it? Please tell me. I swear to you by my nobility, no one in the world will ever know that I got any insight about this matter from you.
That firme affiance, quoth I, had I in you before, or else I would neuer haue gone so farre ouer the shooes, to plucke you out of the mire. Not to make many wordes (since you will needs know) the king saies flatly, you are a miser & a snudge, and he neuer hopt better of you. Nay then (quoth he) questionlesse some planet that loues not syder hath conspired against me. Moreouer, which is worse, the king hath vowed to giue Turwin one hot breakfast, onely with the bungs that hee will plucke out of your barrells. I cannot staie at this time to reporte each circumstance that passed, but the only counsell that my long cherished kinde inclination can possibly contriue, is now in your olde daies to be liberall, such victuals or prouisions as you haue, presently distribute it frankly amongst poore souldiers, I would let them burst their bellies with syder, and bathe in it, before I would runne into my Princes ill opinion for a whole sea of it. The hunter pursuing the beauer for his stones, hee bites them off, and leaues them behinde for him to gather vp, whereby he liues quiet. If greedie hunters and hungry teltales pursue you, it is for a little pelfe which you haue, cast it behind you, neglect it, let them haue it, lest it breed a further inconuenience. Credit my aduice, you shall finde it propheticall, and thus I haue discharged the parte of a poore friend. With some few like phrases of ceremonie, your honors suppliant, & so forth, and farewel my good youth, I thanke thee and will remember thee, we parted. But the next daie I thinke we had a dole of syder, syder in boules, in scuppets, in helmets, & to conclude, if a man would haue fild his bootes full, there hee might haue had it, prouant thrust it selfe into poore souldiers pockets whether they would or no. We made fiue peals of shot into the towne together, of nothing but spiggots and faussets of discarded emptie barrels: euerie vnderfoote soildiour had a distenanted tunne, as Diogenes had his tub to sleepe in, I my selfe got as many confiscated Tapsters aprons, as made me a Tent, as bigge as any ordinarie commanders in the field. But in conclusion, my welbeloued Baron of double beere got him humbly on his marybones to the king, and complained hee was olde and striken in yeres, and had nere an heire to cast at a dogge, wherefore if it might please his maiesty to take his lands into his hands, and allowe him some reasonable pension to liue on, hee shoulde bee meruailous wel pleased: as for the warres, he was wearie of them, and yet as long as highnes shoulde venture his owne person, hee would not flinch a foot, but make his withered bodie a buckler, to beare off anie blow that should be aduanced agaynst him.
That strong trust I had in you before, or else I wouldn't have gone so far out of my way to pull you out of the mess. To not drag this out (since you want to know), the king says outright, you are a miser and a stingy person, and he never expected much better from you. Well then (he replied), surely some planet that doesn't like cider has conspired against me. Moreover, which is worse, the king has vowed to give Turwin one hot breakfast, only with the bungs he will pull out of your barrels. I can't take the time to report each detail that happened, but the only advice that my long-held kindness can suggest is, in your old age, to be generous; whatever food or provisions you have, distribute it now freely among the poor soldiers. I would let them overindulge in cider and bathe in it before I would risk my prince's bad opinion for a whole sea of it. The hunter chasing the beaver for his stones bites them off and leaves them behind for him to collect, which allows him to live in peace. If greedy hunters and hungry gossipers pursue you, it's for a little money you have; throw it behind you, ignore it, let them have it, lest it cause further trouble. Trust my advice, you'll find it prophetic, and thus I've done my duty as a poor friend. With a few polite phrases, your honorable supplicant, and so on, farewell my good young man, I thank you and will remember you, we parted ways. But the next day, I think we had a feast of cider, cider in bowls, in buckets, in helmets, and in conclusion, if a man wanted to fill his boots, he could have done so; provisions pushed themselves into poor soldiers' pockets whether they wanted it or not. We fired five volleys into the town made up solely of spigots and faucets from discarded empty barrels: every foot soldier had an abandoned cask, just like Diogenes had his tub to sleep in. I managed to collect as many confiscated tavern keepers' aprons that I made into a tent, as big as any ordinary commander in the field. But in the end, my dear Baron of double beer humbly approached the king and complained he was old and in declining health, and had no heir to inherit anything, so if it pleased his majesty to take his lands into his care and grant him a reasonable pension to live on, he would be very pleased. As for the wars, he was tired of them, and yet as long as the king put himself at risk, he wouldn't back down an inch, but would make his aged body a shield to deflect any blow aimed at him.
The king meruailing at this strange alteration of his great marchant of syder (for so hee woulde often pleasantly tearme him), with a little further talke bolted out the whole complotment Then was I pittifully whipt for my holy day lie, although they made themselues merrie with it many a faire winters euening after.
The king, puzzled by this strange change in his great merchant of cider (as he often jokingly referred to him), with a bit more conversation, revealed the whole situation. Then I was shamefully punished for my day off, although they made jokes about it many a lovely winter evening afterward.
Yet notwithstanding his good asseheaded honor mine host, perseuered in his former simple request to the king to accept of the surrender of his landes, and allowe him a beadsmanry or out-brother-ship of brachet, which at length, through his vehement instancie tooke effect, and the king ieastingly sayd, since he would needs haue it so, he would distrain on part of his land for impost of syder, which hee was behinde hande with him, and neuer payd.
Yet despite his honorable intentions, the host persisted in his earlier simple request to the king to accept the surrender of his lands and grant him a brotherly connection or out-brotherhood with the brachet. Eventually, through his persistent efforts, it was successful, and the king jokingly said that since he was so determined, he would seize part of his land to cover the overdue cider taxes that he hadn't paid.
This was one of my famous atchieuements, insomuch as I neuer light vpon the like famous foole, but I haue done a thousand better ieasts if they had bin bookt in order as they were begotten. It is pittie posteritie shoulde bee depriued of such precious recordes, and yet there is no remedie, and yet there is to, for when all fayles, welfare a good memorie. Gentle readers (looke you be gentle now since I haue cald you so) as freely as my knauerie was mine owne, it shall be yours to vse in the way of honestie.
This was one of my notable achievements, as I have never come across a fool quite like this one. However, I've done a thousand better tricks if they had been recorded in the order they happened. It's a shame future generations should be deprived of such valuable accounts, yet there’s nothing to be done about it, or maybe there is, because when everything else fails, a good memory survives. Gentle readers (make sure to be gentle now that I’ve called you that), just as my cunning was my own, it will be yours to use in an honest way.
Euen in this expedition of Turwin (for the king stoode not long thrumming of buttons there) it happened me fall out (I would it had fallen out otherwise for his sake) with an vgly mechanical Captaine. You must thinke in an armie, where tronchios are in their state house, it is a flat stab once to name a Captaine without cappe in hand. Well, suppose hee was a Captaine, & had nere a good cap of his owne, but I was faine to lend him one of my Lords cast veluet caps, and a weatherbeaten feather, wherewith he threatned his souldiers a farre off, as Iupiter is sayde, with the shaking of his haire to make heauen and earth to quake: suppose out of the paringes of a paire of false dice, I apparelled both him and my selfe many a time and oft: and surely not to slander the deuill, if anie man euer deserued the golden dice, the king of the Parthians sent to Demetrius it was I, I had the right vaine of sucking vp a die twixt the dintes of my fingers, not a creuise in my hande but coulde swallowe a quater trey for a neede: in the line of life many a dead lifte dyd there lurke, but it was nothing towards the maintenance of a family. This Monsieur Capitano eate vp the creame of my earnings, and Crede mihi res est ingeniosa dare, any man is a fine fellow as long as he hath anie monie in his purse. That monie is like the marigolde, which opens and shuts with the Sunne, if fortune smileth, or one be in fauour, it floweth: if the euening of age comes on, or he falleth into disgrace, it fadeth and is not to be found. I was my crafts master though I was but yong, and could as soone decline Nominatiuo hic asinus, as a greater clarke, wherefore I thought it not conuenient my soldado should haue my purse anie longer for his drumme to play vppon, but I woulde giue him Iacke drummes entertainment, and send him packing. This was my plot, I knewe a peece of seruice of intelligence, which was presently to bee done, that required a man with all his fiue senses to effect it, and would ouefthrow anie foole that should vndertake it, to this seruice did I animate and egge my foresayd costes and charges, alias, senior veluet-cappe, whose head was not encombered with too much forecast, and comming to him in his cabbin about dinner time, where I found him verie deuoutly paring of his nailes for want of other repast, I entertained him with this solemne oration.
Even on this expedition in Turwin (since the king didn't spend long fiddling with buttons there), I had a run-in (I wish it had gone differently for his sake) with an ugly mechanical captain. You have to understand that in an army, when the soldiers are gathered, it’s a big deal to name a captain without removing your hat. Well, let’s say he was a captain but didn’t even have a decent hat of his own; I had to lend him one of my lord's old velvet caps and a weathered feather, which he waved at his soldiers from a distance, like Jupiter is said to have done with his hair to make heaven and earth shake. Let’s suppose, from the scraps of a pair of loaded dice, I dressed both him and myself up more times than I can count; and honestly, not to slander the devil, if anyone ever deserved the golden dice that the king of the Parthians sent to Demetrius, it was me. I had a knack for hiding a die between my fingers, and not a cup in my hand that couldn’t swallow a quarter-tray when needed. In the game of life, many dead weights were lurking around, but they didn’t do much to support a family. This Monsieur Captain ate up the cream of my earnings, and believe me, when money is involved, anyone can be charming. That money is like a marigold, opening and closing with the sun; when fortune is smiling or someone is in favor, it flows. But when the evening of life comes or a person falls from grace, it fades away and disappears. I was a master of my craft, even though I was young, and could quickly refuse an idiot as easily as a scholar could, so I thought it wasn’t right for my soldier to have my purse as his drum to play on any longer. I would give him a jack drum’s entertainment and send him packing. This was my plan. I knew of a piece of intelligence that needed to be carried out immediately, requiring a man with all his senses ready to pull it off, and would overwhelm any fool who tried to take it on. For this job, I motivated and kicked my aforementioned costs and charges, aka senior velvet cap, whose head wasn’t burdened with too much foresight, and went to see him in his cabin around dinner time, where I found him devoutly trimming his nails due to lack of better food. I entertained him with this solemn speech.
Captaine, you perceiue how neere both of vs are driuen, the dice of late are growen as melancholy as a dog, high men and low men both prosper alike, langrets, fullams, and all the whole fellowshippe of them will not affoord a man his dinner, some other means must be inuented to preuent imminent extremitie. My state, you are not ignorant, depends on trencher seruice, your aduancement must be deriued from the valour of your arme. In the delayes of siege, desert hardly gets a daye of hearing, tis gowns must direct and guns enact all the wars that is to bee made against walls. Resteth no waie for you to climbe sodainly, but by doing some straunge stratageme, that the like hath not bene heard of heeretofore, and fitly at this instant occasion is ministred.
Captain, you can see how close both of us are to a tough spot; lately, luck has become as downcast as a sad dog. Both rich and poor are having the same level of success, and all those dodgy characters—scammers and con artists—won't even give a man his dinner. We need to come up with another plan to avoid a looming crisis. You know my situation relies on what I can serve at the table, while your success must come from the strength of your arm. In the delays of a siege, skill rarely gets a chance to shine; it's the powerful who lead and the guns that carry out all the battles against fortifications. There's no way for you to rise quickly except by doing some remarkable strategy that hasn't been heard of before, and this moment is perfect for that.
There is a feate the king is desirous to haue wrought on some great man of the enemies side, marie it requireth not so much resolution as discretion to bring it to passe, and yet resolution inough shalbe showen in it to, being so full of hazardous ieopardy as it is, harke in your eare, thus it is. Without more drumbling or pausing, if you will vndertake it, and worke it through stitch (as you may ere the king hath determined which waie to goe about it) I warrant you are made while you liue, you neede not care which waie your staffe falles, if it proue not so, then cut off my head.
There's a feat the king wants to see done to a significant figure on the enemy's side. It doesn't require so much boldness as it does careful planning to make it happen, but there will still be enough courage shown in it, considering how full of risky danger it is. Listen closely, here's the deal. Without further delay or hesitation, if you decide to take this on and pull it off (as you can before the king has figured out which way to approach it), I guarantee you'll be set for life. You won't need to worry about how it turns out; if it doesn’t work out, then go ahead and take my head.
Oh my auditors, had you seene him how he stretcht out his lims, scratcht his scabd elbowes at this speech, how hee set his cap ouer his eie browes like a polititian, and then folded his armes one in another, & nodded with the head, as who should saie, let the French beware, for they shall finde me a deuill, if I say, you had seen but halfe the actions that he vsed of shrucking vp his shoulders, smiling scornfully, playing with his fingers on his buttons, and biting the lip, you wold haue laught your face and your knees together. The yron being hot, I thought to lay on loade, for in anie case I would not haue his humour coole. As before I layd open vnto him the briefe summe of the seruice, so now I began to vrge the honorablenesse of it, and what a rare thing it was to be a right polititian, how much esteemd of kings and princes, and how diuerse of meane parentage haue come to be monarches by it. Then I discourst of the qualities and properties of him in euerie respect, how lyke the wolfe he must drawe the breath from a man before he be seen, how lyke a hare he must sleepe with his eyes open, how as the Eagle in flying casts dust in the eyes of crowes & other foules, for to blind them, so he must cast dust in the eies of his enimies, delude their sight by one meanes or other, y they diue not into his subtilties: how he must be familiar with all & trust none, drinke, carouse and lecher with him out of whom he hopes to wring anie matter, sweare and forsweare, rather than be suspected, and in a word, haue the art of dissembling at his fingers ends as perfect as anie courtier.
Oh my listeners, if you had seen how he stretched out his limbs, scratched his scabbed elbows during this speech, how he wore his cap over his eyebrows like a politician, and then crossed his arms, nodding his head as if to say, let the French beware, for they’ll find me a devil. If you had witnessed just half the actions he made, like shrugging his shoulders, smirking disdainfully, fiddling with the buttons on his clothes, and biting his lip, you would have laughed until your face and knees hurt. The iron was hot, so I decided to strike while the opportunity was there, because I definitely didn’t want his mood to cool off. Just as I had previously laid out the brief overview of the service, I began to emphasize its honor and how rare it is to be a true politician, how much they are valued by kings and princes, and how many of humble origins have become monarchs through it. Then I talked about the qualities and characteristics he must possess in every aspect: how like a wolf he must take a person’s breath away before they realize it, how like a hare he must sleep with his eyes open, and how, like an eagle in flight that throws dust in the eyes of crows and other birds to blind them, he must throw dust in the eyes of his enemies, deceiving them in one way or another so they don’t see through his subtleties. He must be familiar with everyone and trust no one, drink, party, and indulge with those he hopes to gain information from, swear and forsake oaths to avoid suspicion, and in short, have the art of deception down perfectly like any courtier.
Perhaps (quoth I) you may haue some few greasie cauelliers that will seeke to disswade you from it, and they will not sticke to stand on theyr three halfe pennie honour, swearing and staring that a man were better be an hangman than an intelligencer, and call him a sneaking eausdropper, a scraping hedgecreeper, and a piperly pickthanke, but you must not bee discouraged by theyr talke, for the most part of those beggerly contemners of wit, are huge burlybond butchers like Aiax, good for nothing but to strike right downe blowes on a wedge with a cleauing beetle, or stande hammering all daie vppon barres of yron. The whelpes of a Beare neuer grow but sleeping, and these bearewards hauing big limmes shall bee preferd though they doe nothing. You haue read stories, (He bee sworne he neuer lookte in booke in his life) how many of the Romane worthies were there that haue gone as spies into theyr enemies campe? Vlysses, Nestor, Diomed, went as spies together in the night into the tentes of Rhosus and intercepted Dolon the spie of the Troians: neuer anie discredited the trade of intelligencers but Iudas, & he hanged himselfe. Danger will put wit into anie man. Architas made a wooden doue to flie: by which proportion I see no reason that the veryest blocke in the world should despayre of anie thing. Though nature be contrarie inclined, it may be altered, yet vsually those whome she denies her ordinarie giftes in one thing, she doubles them in another. That which the asse wants in wit, hee hath in honestie, who euer sawe him kicke or winch, or vse anie iades trickes, though he liue an hundred yeeres you shall never heare that he breakes pasture. Amongest men, hee that hath not a good wit, lightly hath a good yron memorie, and he that hath neither of both, hath some bones to carrie burthens. Blinde men haue better noses than other men: the buls horns serue him as well as hands to fight withall: the lions pawes are as good to him as a polaxe, to knock downe anie that resists him: so the Bores tushes serue him in better stead than a sword and buckler, what need the snaile care for eyes, when he feeles the waie with his two homes, as well as if hee were as sharpe sighted as a decypherer. There is a fish that hauing no wings, supportes her selfe in the ayre with her finnes. Admit that you had neither wit nor capacitie, as sure in my iudgement there is none equall vnto you in idiotisme, yet if you haue simplicitie and secrecie, serpents themselues will thinke you a serpent, for what serpent is there but hydeth his sting: and yet whatsoeuer bee wanting, a good plausible alluring tong in such a man of imployment can hardly be spard, which as the forenamed serpent, with his winding tayle fetcheth in those that come neere him: so with a rauishing tale, it gathers all mens heartes vnto him, which if hee haue not, let him neuer looke to ingender by the mouth, as rauens and doues doe, that is, mount or be great by vndermining. Sir, I am assertayned that all these imperfections I speake off, in you haue theyr naturall resiance, I see in your face, that you were borne with the swallow, to feede flying, to get much treasure and honour by trauell. None so fit as you for so important an enterprise, our vulgar reputed polititians are but flyes swimming on the streame of subtiltie superficially in comparison of your singularitie, theyr blind narrowe eyes cannot pearce into the profunditie of hypocrisie, you alone with Palamed, can pry into Vlysses madde counterfeting, you can discerne Achilles from a chamber maide, though he be deckt with his spindle and distaffe: as Ioue dining with Licaon could not be beguiled with humane flesh drest like meate, so no humane braine may goe beyond you, none beguile you, you gull all, all feare you, loue you, stoupe to you. Therefore, good sir, be rulde by mee, stoupe your fortune so lowe, as to bequeath your selfe wholy to this businesse.
Maybe, I said, you might have a few greasy characters who will try to talk you out of it. They'll cling to their meager honor, swearing and glaring that it’s better to be a hangman than an informant, calling him a sneaky eavesdropper, a creeping lurker, and a petty thief of information. But don’t let their talk discourage you, because most of these contemptible fools, who scorn intelligence, are just big, burly butchers like Ajax, good for nothing but swinging a cleaving hammer down on a log or hammering away all day at iron bars. Bear cubs never grow up except when they’re sleeping, and these big-bodied idiots will be favored even if they do nothing. You've read stories (he swears he's never looked in a book in his life) about the many Roman heroes who went as spies into enemy camps. Ulysses, Nestor, and Diomed snuck into the tents of Rhosus at night and intercepted Dolon, the Trojan spy. No one has ever discredited the trade of informants except Judas, and he hanged himself. Danger can spark intelligence in anyone. Architas made a wooden dove to fly; with that in mind, there's no reason even the biggest blockhead in the world should despair. While nature may have its limits, it can change; usually, those who lack her ordinary gifts in one area possess them in another. The donkey may lack intelligence, but he has honesty; you've never seen one kick up a fuss or pull any tricks, and even if he lives a hundred years, you won't hear of him breaking into pasture. Among men, those without good sense often have a good memory, and those lacking both have some burdens to carry. Blind people often have better noses than sighted people: a bull's horns serve him just as well as hands in a fight; a lion's paws are as useful to him as a heavy weapon to take down anyone who resists; and a boar's tusks serve him better than a sword and shield. What need does a snail have for eyes when he feels his way with his two antennae, just as well as if he were as sharp-eyed as a decoder? There’s a fish that, lacking wings, keeps itself afloat in the air with its fins. Even if you had neither wit nor capacity (and in my judgment, there's none as clueless as you), if you possess simplicity and secrecy, even serpents would consider you one of their own, since every serpent hides its sting. Regardless of what you might lack, a smooth, charming tongue in someone involved can hardly be restrained, which, like that aforementioned serpent with its winding tail, draws in those who come close. If you lack that charm, don’t expect to rise in status by deceit, like ravens and doves do. Sir, I’m sure that all the shortcomings I mention exist naturally in you. I can see in your face that you were born to fly, to gain treasure and honor by travel. No one is as suitable as you for such an important undertaking; our usual so-called politicians are just flies skimming the surface of subtlety compared to your uniqueness. Their blind, narrow eyes can't penetrate the depths of hypocrisy. You alone, like Palamedes, can see through Ulysses’ wild disguises. You can tell Achilles from a chambermaid, even when he’s adorned with his spindle and distaff. Just as Jupiter, dining with Lycaon, could not be deceived by human flesh disguised as food, no human brain can outsmart you; no one can deceive you, you outwit all, everyone fears you, loves you, and bows to you. Therefore, my good sir, take my advice; lower your fortune enough to commit yourself entirely to this endeavor.
This siluer sounding tale made such sugred harmonie in his eares, that with the sweete meditation, what a more than myraculous polititian he should be, and what kingly promotion should come tumbling on him thereby, he could haue found in his heart to haue packt vp his pipes & to haue gone to heauen without a baite, yea, hee was more inflamed and rauishte with it than a young man called Tauritnontanus was with the Phrigian melodie, who was so incensed and fyred therewith, that he would needes runne presently vpon it, and set a curtizans house on fire that had angered him.
This silver-sounding story created such a sweet harmony in his ears that, filled with pleasant thoughts about how he could become an incredible politician and the royal promotions that would come flooding his way, he could have found it in his heart to pack up his belongings and head to heaven without a second thought. In fact, he was even more excited and captivated by it than a young man named Tauritnontanus, who was so consumed by the Phrygian melody that he had to act on his feelings and set fire to the house of the courtesan who had upset him.
No remedie there was but I must helpe to furnish him with monie, I did so, as who wil not make his enemy a bridge of golde to flie by. Verie earnestly he coniurd me to make no man liuing priuie to his departure in regard of his place and charge, and on his honour assured mee his returne shoulde bee verie short and succesfull, I, I, shorter by the necke, thought I, in the meane time let this be thy posie, I liue in hope to scape the rope.
I had no choice but to help him out with money. After all, who wouldn’t build a golden bridge for their enemy to escape on? He urgently begged me to keep his departure a secret from everyone because of his position and responsibilities, and he promised me, on his honor, that he would be back quickly and successfully. I thought to myself, “Sure, maybe a shorter trip for you means a shorter neck for me.” In the meantime, let this be your motto: I live in hope to escape the rope.
Gone he is, God send him good shipping to Wapping, & by this time, if you will, let him bee a pittifull poore fellowe, and vndone for euer, for mine owne part, if he had bin mine owne brother, I coulde haue done no more for him than I did, for straight after his backe was turnd, I went in all loue & kindnesse to the Marshall generall of the field, & certefide him that such a man was lately fled to the enemie, and gotte his place beggd for another immediatly. What became of him after you shall heare. To the enemie he went and offered his seruice, ratling egregiously on the king of England, he swore, as he was a Gentleman and a souldier, hee would bee reuenged on him, and let but the king of France follow his counsell, hee woulde driue him from Turwin wals yet ere ten dayes to an end. All these were good humours, but the tragedie followeth. The French king hearing of such a prating fellow that was come, was desirous to see him, but yet he feared treason, wherfore he wild one of his minions to take vpon him his person, and he would stand by as a priuate man whilest hee was examined. Why should I vse anie idle delayes? In was Captaine Gogges wounds brought, after he was throughly searched, not a louse in his doublet was let passe, but was askt Queuela, and chargd to stand in the kings name, the mouldes of his buttons they turnd out, to see if they were not bullettes couered ouer with thread, the codpeece in his deuills breeches (for they were then in fashion) they sayd playnly was a case for a pistoll, if hee had had euer a hobnaile in his shooes it had hangde him, & he shuld neuer haue knowen who had harmd him, but as lucke was, he had not a mite of anie mettal about him, he tooke part with none of the foure ages, neither the golden age, the siluer age, the brasen nor the yron age, onely his purse was aged in emptinesse, and I thinke verily a puritane, for it kept it selfe from any pollution of crosses. Standing before the supposed king, he was askt what he was, and wherefore he came. To the which in a glorious bragging humour he aunswered, that hee was a gentleman, a captaine commander, a chiefe leacjer, that came away from the king of England vppon discontentment. Questiond particular of the cause of his discontentment, hee had not a word to blesse himself with, yet faine he would haue patcht out a poltfoote tale, but (God he knowes) it had not one true legge to stand on. Then began he to smell on the villaine so rammishly, that none there but was readie to rent him in peeces, yet the minion king kept in his cholar, and propounded vnto him farther, what of the king of Englands secrets (so aduantageable) he was priuie to, as might remoue him from the siege of Turwin in three daies. Hee sayde diuerse, diuerse matters, which askt longer conference, but in good honestie they were lies, which he had not yet stampt. Heereat the true king stept forth, and commanded to lay handes on the lozell, and that he should be tortured to confesse the truth, for he was a spie and nothing else.
He’s gone, may God send him a safe journey to Wapping, and by now, if you want, let him be a pitiful poor guy, ruined forever. Personally, if he had been my own brother, I couldn't have done any more for him than I did. Right after his back was turned, I went, all love and kindness, to the Marshal General of the field and informed him that such a man had recently fled to the enemy and had immediately begged for another’s position. What happened to him after that you’ll hear. He went to the enemy and offered his services, loudly criticizing the King of England. He swore, as a gentleman and a soldier, that he would get revenge on him, and if only the King of France would follow his advice, he would drive him from the walls of Turwin in less than ten days. All of that was amusing, but the tragedy follows. The King of France, hearing about such a loudmouth, wanted to see him, but he feared treason. So, he had one of his favorites impersonate him while he stood nearby as a private man during the questioning. Why should I waste time? Captain Gogges was brought in, and after he was thoroughly searched—not a single lice in his doublet was overlooked, and he was asked about every detail, commanded to stand in the king's name. They turned out the molds of his buttons, checking to see if they were bullet casings covered with thread. They plainly stated that the codpiece in his tight pants (which were fashionable at the time) was a cover for a pistol. If he had any hobnails in his shoes, it would have led to his downfall, and he would never have known who harmed him. But as luck would have it, he had no metal on him at all; he belonged to none of the four ages—the Golden Age, the Silver Age, the Bronze Age, or the Iron Age—only his purse was old in its emptiness, and I genuinely think he was a Puritan, as it kept itself free from any contamination of coins. Standing before the supposed king, he was asked who he was and why he had come. In a boastful manner, he replied that he was a gentleman, a commanding captain, a leading soldier, who had left the King of England out of dissatisfaction. When specifically questioned about his reasons for discontent, he couldn’t offer a single word, although he would have loved to invent a tall tale, but (God knows) it wouldn’t have had a single true leg to stand on. Then he began to smell so rank with villainy that everyone there was ready to tear him apart, yet the favorite king kept his cool and further asked him what advantageous secrets of the King of England he knew that could get him away from the siege of Turwin in three days. He mentioned various matters that would require more discussion, but honestly, they were lies he hadn’t yet fabricated. At this point, the true king stepped forward, ordered them to seize the scoundrel, and that he should be tortured until he confessed the truth, for he was nothing but a spy.
He no sooner sawe the wheele and the torments set before him, but he cride out like a rascall, and sayde hee was a poore Captaine in the English camp, suborned by one Iacke Wilton (a noble mans page) and no other, to come and kill the French king in a brauery and returne, and that he had no other intention in the world.
He barely saw the wheel and the tortures in front of him when he shouted out like a coward, claiming he was just a poor captain in the English camp, hired by one Jack Wilton (a nobleman's page) and no one else, to come and kill the French king in a show of bravado and then come back, insisting that he had no other intention in the world.
This confession could not choose but moue them all to laughter, in that he made it as light a matter to kill their king and come backe, as to goe to Islington and eate a messe of creame, and come home againe, nay, and besides hee protested that he had no other intention, as if that were not inough to hang him.
This confession couldn’t help but make them all laugh, as he treated killing their king and coming back as casually as going to Islington to eat some cream and returning home. Moreover, he insisted that he had no other intention, as if that alone wasn’t enough to get him hanged.
Adam neuer fell till God made fooles, all this coulde not keepe his ioyntes from ransacking on the wheele, for they vowed either to make him a confessor or a martir in a trice, when still he sung all one song, they tolde the king he was a foole, and some shrewd head had knauishly wrought on him, wherefore it should stand with his honour to whip him out of the campe and send him home. That perswasion tooke place, and soundly was he lasht out of theyr liberties, and sent home by a Heralde with this message, that so the king his master hoped to whip home all the English fooles verie shortly: answere was returned, that that shortlie, was a long lie, and they were shrewde fooles that shoulde driue the French man out of his kingdome, and make him glad with Corinthian Dionisius to play the schoole-master.
Adam never fell until God created fools; all this couldn’t stop his joints from being ransacked on the wheel, as they vowed to make him either a confessor or a martyr in no time. While he continued to sing the same tune, they told the king he was a fool, and some clever person had slyly manipulated him, so it would be in his honor to kick him out of the camp and send him home. That persuasion took hold, and he was soundly whipped out of their territory and sent home by a herald with this message: that the king hoped to send all the English fools home very soon. The response was that "very soon" was a long lie, and they were sharp fools if they thought they could drive the Frenchman out of his kingdom and make him happy like Corinthian Dionisius playing the schoolmaster.
The Herald being dismist, our afflicted intelligencer was cald coram nobis, how he spedde, iudge you, but something hee was adiudged to. The sparowe for his lecherie liueth but a yeere, he for his trecherie was turnd on the toe, Plura dolor prohibet.
The Herald being dismissed, our troubled informant was called coram nobis, and you'll judge how he did, but he was somewhat judged. The sparrow lives only a year because of its promiscuity; he, for his treachery, was turned on the toe, Plura dolor prohibet.
Here let me triumph a while, and ruminate a line or two on the excellence of my wit, but I will not breath neither til I haue disfraughted all my knauerie.
Here, let me celebrate for a moment and think about a line or two on the greatness of my wit, but I won’t breathe a word until I have unloaded all my tricks.
Another Swizer Captaine that was farre gone for want of the wench, I led astraie most notoriously, for he beeing a monstrous vnthrift of battle axes (as one that cared not in his anger to bid flie out scuttels to fiue score of them) and a notable emboweller of quart pots, I came disguised vnto him in the forme of a halfe a crowne wench, my gowne and attire according to the custome the in request. I wis I had my curtesies in cue or in quart pot rather, for they dyu'd into the very entrailes of the dust, and I simpered with my countenance lyke a porredge pot on the fire when it first begins to seeth. The sobrietie of the circumstance is, that after he had courted me and all, and giuen me the earnest pennie of impietie, some sixe crownes at the least for an antipast to iniquitie, I fained an impregnable excuse to be gone, and neuer came at him after. Yet left I not here, but committed a little more scutcherie. A companie of coystrell clarkes (who were in band with sathan, and not of anie souldiers collar nor his hatband) pincht a number of good mindes to Godward of theyr prouant. They would not let a dram of dead pay ouerslip them, they would not lend a groat of the weeke to come, to him that had spent his money before this weeke was done. They outfaced the greatest and most magnanimious servitours in their sincere and finigraphicall cleane shirts and cuffes. A lowse that was anie Gentlemans companion they thought scorne of, their nere bitten beardes must in a deuils name bedewdeuerie daiewith rosewater, hogges could haue nere a hayre on theyr backes, for making them rubbing brushes to rouse theyr crab lice. They woulde in no wise permitte that the moates in the Sunnebeames should be full mouthde beholders of theyr cleane phinikde appareil, theyr shooes shined as bright as a slike-stone, theyr handes troubled and soyled more water with washing, than the camell doth, that nere drinkes till the whole streame bee troubled. Summarily, neuer anie were so fantastical the one halfe as they. My masters you may conceiue of me what you list, but I thinke confidently I was ordayned Gods scourge from aboue for theyr daintie finicalitie. The houre of theyr punishment could no longer be proroged, but vengeance must haue at them at al a ventures. So it was, that the most of these aboue named goosequil braccahadocheos were meere cowards and crauens, and durst not so much as throw a penfull of inke into the enimies face, if proofe were made, wherefore on the experience of their pusellanimitie I thought to raise the foundation of my roguerie. What did I now but one daie made a false alarum in the quarter where they laie, to trie how they would stand to theyr tackling, and with a pittifull outcrie warned them to flie, for there was treason afoot, they were inuironed and beset. Upon the first watch worde of treason that was giuen, I thinke they betooke them to theyr heeles verie stoutly, left theyr penne and inke-hornes and papers behinde them for spoile, resigned theyr deskes, with the mony that was in them to the mercie of the vanquisher, and in fine, left mee & my fellowes (their foole-catchers) Lords of the field: how wee dealt with them, their disburdened deskes canne best tell, but this I am assured, we fared the better for it a fortnight of fasting dayes after. I must not place a volume in the precincts of a pamphlet, sleepe an houre or two, and dreame that Turney and Turwin is wonne, that the king is shipt againe into England, and that I am close at harde meate at Windsore or at Hampton court. What will you in your indifferent opinions allow me for my trauell, no more seigniorie ouer the Pages than I had before? yes, whether you will parte with so much probable friendly suppose or no, He haue it in spite of your heartes. For your instruction and godly consolation, bee informed, that at that time I was no common squire, no vndertroden torch-bearer, I had my feather in my cap as big as a flag in the foretop, my French doublet gelte in the belly as though (lyke a pig readie to be spitted) all my guts had beene pluckt out, a paire of side paned hose that hung down like two scales filled with Holland cheeses, 'my long stock that sate close to my docke, and smoothered not a scab or a leacherous hairie sinew on the calfe of my legge, my rapier pendant like a round sticke fastned in the tacklings for skippers the better to climbe by, my cape cloake of blacke cloth, ouerspreading my backe lyke a thornbacke, or an Elephantes eare, that hanges on his shoulders lyke a countrie huswiues banskin, which shee thirleth her spindle on, and in consummation of my curiositie, my handes without gloues, all a more French, and a blacke budge edging of a beard on the vpper lip, & the like sable auglet of excrements in the first rising of the anckle of my chinne. I was the first that brought in the order of passing into the court which I deriued from the common word Qui passa, and the heralds phrase of armes Passant, thinking in sincerity, hee was not a Gentleman, nor his armes currant, who was not first past by the pages. If anie prentise or other came into the court that was not a Gentleman, I thought it was an indignitie to the preheminence of the court to include such a one, and could not be salud except we gaue him armes Passant, to make him a Gentleman. Besides, in Spaine, none compasse anie farre waie but he must be examined what he is, & giue three pence for his passe. In which regard it was considered of by the common table of the cupbearers, what a perilsome thing it was to let anie stranger or outdweller approch so neere the precincts of the Prince, as the great chamber, without examining what he was and giuing him his passe, wherevppon we established the lyke order, but tooke no monie of them as they did, onelie for a signe that he had not past our hands vnexamined, wee set a red marke on either of his eares, and so let him walke as authenticall. I must not discouer what vngodly dealing we had with the blacke iackes, or how oft I was crowned king of the dronkards with a court cuppe, let mee quietly descend to the waining of my youthfull dayes, and tell a little of the sweating sicknesse, that made me in a cold sweate take my heeles and runne out of England.
Another Swiss captain who was really missing the girl, I led astray quite notoriously. He was a huge spender on battle axes (one who didn't hesitate to throw out sixty of them in his anger) and a notorious drinker of pints. I approached him disguised as a half-crown wench, dressed according to the custom of the time. I wish I had my manners down pat, or more likely in a jug, because they were deep in the muck, and I smiled like a porridge pot on the fire when it just starts to boil. The sober truth is that after he had courted me and all, and given me a rather sinful advance of at least six crowns as a starter for trouble, I made an excuse to leave and never came back to him. But I didn’t stop there; I played a little more trickery. A bunch of scoundrel clerks (who were in cahoots with the devil and not in any soldier's league) pinched a number of good souls' supplies meant for God. They wouldn’t let a tiny bit of dead pay slip away, nor would they lend a penny for the coming week to someone who had already spent all his money before this week was over. They confidently faced even the most grand and noble servants in their clean shirts and cuffs. Any filthy thing that was a gentleman’s companion was beneath their notice; their unkempt beards had to be spritzed daily with rosewater, and they had no hair on their backs since they used them as scratchers to rid themselves of nits. They wouldn’t allow the dust in the sunlight to be a full-mouthed witness to their pristine looks; their shoes shone as bright as a polished stone, and their hands made more mess while washing than a camel, which never drinks till the whole stream is muddy. In short, no one was as fanciful as they were. My masters, you may think what you will of me, but I firmly believe I was sent by God to punish their delicate finery. The time for their punishment could not be delayed any longer; vengeance had to strike them at all costs. So it happened that most of these so-called brave men were mere cowards and crows, and wouldn’t even throw a drop of ink into the enemy’s face if given the chance. Based on their cowardice, I thought it was time to establish my trickery. What I did one day was create a false alarm in the area where they were, to see how they’d respond, and with a pitiful scream warned them to run, claiming treason was afoot, and they were surrounded. At the first mention of treason, I think they took to their heels very bravely, leaving behind their pens, ink horns, and papers for the taking, abandoning their desks along with the money in them to the mercy of the victor, and in the end, left me and my fellows (their fool-catchers) lords of the field. How we dealt with them, their emptied desks can best explain, but I assure you, we faired better for it for a fortnight of fasting days afterward. I must not place an entire volume in the realm of a pamphlet, sleep an hour or two, and dream that the tournaments are won, that the king is en route back to England, and that I’m happily well-fed in Windsor or at Hampton Court. What will you allow me for my trouble in your reasonable opinions, no more authority over the pages than I had before? Yes, whether you are willing to part with even that much friendly expectation or not, I shall have it regardless of your hearts. For your instruction and divine comfort, know that at that time I was no common squire, no underappreciated torchbearer, I had my feather in my cap as grand as a flag in the crow’s nest, my French doublet bursting at the belly as if (like a pig ready for roast) all my insides were taken out, a pair of side-paneled trousers that hung down like two scales filled with cheese, my long stockings snug against my legs, showing not a scab or a lecherous hair on my calf, my rapier hanging like a round stick secured for sailors to climb better, my black cloth cape draping over my back like a thornback or an elephant’s ear, which dangles on its shoulders like a country housewife’s apron on which she spins her thread, and in conclusion of my curiosity, my hands without gloves, all very French, and a black budged edging of a beard on my upper lip, along with the same sable growth at the very start of my chin. I was the first to establish the order of entering the court which I derived from the common phrase Qui passa, and the heralds' phrase of arms Passant, believing sincerely that he was not a gentleman, nor his arms valid, if he didn’t first pass by the pages. If any apprentice or others came into the court who were not gentlemen, I thought it was an indignity to the prestige of the court to include such a person, and could not be acknowledged unless we gave him arms Passant to make him a gentleman. Moreover, in Spain, no one can make any journey without being examined first and giving a three-penny fee for his pass. For this reason, we considered at the common table of the cupbearers how perilous it was to let any stranger approach so close to the Prince’s area, like the great chamber, without checking who he was and giving him his pass; thus we established a similar rule, but took no money from them as they did. Instead, as a sign that he had not passed through our hands unchecked, we marked a red spot on each of his ears, and thus, let him walk as authentic. I must not reveal the ungodly dealings we had with the drinking fellows, or how often I was crowned king of the drunks with a court cup; let me quietly descend to the waning of my youthful days, and share a little about the sweating sickness that forced me to take off running out of England.
This sweating sicknesse, was a disease that a man then might catch and neuer goe to a hothouse. Many masters desire to haue such semants as would worke till they sweate againe, but in those dayes he that sweat neuer wrought againe. That Scripture then was not thought so necessarie, which sayes, Earne thy liuing with the sweat of thy browes, for then they earnd their dying with the sweat of their browes. It was inough if a fat man did but trusse his points, to turne him ouer the pearch: mother Cornelius tub why it was lyke hell, he that came into it neuer came out of it Cookes that stande continually basting theirfaces before the fire, were nowe all cashierd with this sweat into kitchinstuffe: theyr hall fell in to the kings handes for want of one of the trade to vpholde it. Feltmakers and furriers, what the one with the hot steame of their wooll new taken out of the pan, and the other with the contagious heate of their slaughter budge and connyskins, died more thicke than of the pestilence: I haue seene an olde woman at that season hauing three chins, wipe them all away one after another, as they melted to water, and left her selfe nothing of a mouth but an vpper chap. Looke how in May or the heat of Summer we lay butter in water for feare it shuld melte awaie, so then were men faine to wet their clothes in water as Diers doo, and hide themselues in welles from the heate of the Sunne.
This sweating sickness was a disease that someone could catch without ever going to a sauna. Many employers wanted workers who would labor until they sweated again, but back then, if you sweated, you didn't work again. The scripture that says, "Earn your living by the sweat of your brow," wasn’t considered very relevant because they were earning their dying with that same sweat. It was enough for a heavy man just to tighten his belt to be tossed over the perch: mother Cornelius’ tub was like hell, and anyone who stepped into it never came out. Cooks who constantly stood basting their faces in front of the fire were all let go because of this sweat into kitchenware; their hall fell into the king's hands due to the lack of someone in the trade to support it. Felt makers and furriers, one with the hot steam of their wool freshly taken from the pan and the other with the infectious heat of their slaughtered fur and rabbit skins, perished more frequently than from the plague. I saw an old woman during that time with three chins, wiping them all away one after another as they melted like water, leaving her with hardly anything for a mouth but an upper jaw. Just like in May or in the summer heat when we put butter in water to keep it from melting away, people had to soak their clothes in water like dyers do and hide in wells from the heat of the sun.
Then happie was he that was an asse, for nothing wyll kill an asse but colde, and none dide but with extreame heate. The fishes called Seastarres, that burne one another by excessiue heate, were not so contagious as one man that had the sweate was to another. Masons paid nothing for haire to mix their lime, nor giouers to stuffe their balls with, for then they had it for nothing, it dropt off mens heads and beardes faster than anie Barber could shaue it. O if haire breeches had then beene in fashion, what a fine world had it beene for Taylers, and so it was a fine world for Tailers neuerthelesse, for hee that could make a garment sleightest and thinnest, carried it awaie. Cutters I can tell you, then stood vpon it, to haue their trade one of the twelue Companies, for who was it then that would not haue his doublet cut to the skin, and his shirt cut into it to, to make it more colde. It was as much as a mans life was worth, once to name a freeze ierken, it was treason for a fat grosse man to come within fiue miles of the court, I heard where they dide vp all in one family, and not a mothers childe escapt, insomuch as they had but an Irish rug lockt vp in a presse, and not laide vpon anie bedde neither, if those that were sicke of this maladie slept on it, they neuer wakt more. Phisitions with their simples, in this case were simple fellowes, and knew not which way to bestir them. Galen might goe shop the gander for anie good he could doe, his secretatyes had so long called him diuine, that now he had lost all his vertue vpon earth. Hippocrates might well helpe Almanack makers, but here he had not a worde to saie, a man might sooner catch the sweate with plodding ouer him to no end, than cure the sweat with any of his impotent principles. Paracelsus with his spirit of the butterie, and his spirits of minerals, could not so much as say, God amend him, to the matter. Plus erat in artifice quant arte, there was more infection in the phisition himselfe than his arte could cure. This mortalitie first began amongst olde men, for they taking a pride to haue their breasts loose basted with tedious beards, kept their houses so hot with these hairy excrements, that not so much but their very wals sweat out salt Peter, with the smoothering perplexitie, nay a number of them had meruailous hot breaths, which sticking in the briers of their bushie beardes, could not choose, but (as close aire long imprisoned) engender corruption. Wiser was our brother Bankes of these latter dais, who made his iugling horse a cut, for feare if at anie time hee should foist, the stinke sticking in his thicke bushie taile might be noisome to his auditors. Should I tell you how many purseuants with red noses, and sargeants with precious faces shrunke away in this sweat, you would not beleeve me. Euen as the Salamander with his very sight blasteth apples on the trees, so a purseuant or a sargeant at this present, with the verie reflexe of his fine facias, was able to spoile a man a farre of. In some places of the world there is no shadow of the sunne, Diebus illis if it had bene so in England, the generation of Brute had died all and some. To knit vp this description in a pursuat, so feruent and scorching was the burning aire which inclosed them, that the most blessed man then aliue, would haue thoght that God had done fairely by him, if he had turnde him to a goat, for goates take breath not at the mouth or nose only, but at y eares also.
Then he was fortunate who was a donkey, because nothing could kill a donkey except the cold, and no one died from anything other than extreme heat. The starfish, which burned each other from excessive heat, were not nearly as contagious as one person sweating was to another. Masons didn’t pay for hair to mix with their lime, nor for glovers to stuff their gloves with, because they had it for free; it fell from men’s heads and beards faster than any barber could shave it off. Oh, if hair breeches had been in style back then, what a great world it would have been for tailors! Still, it was a good time for tailors, because whoever could make the lightest and thinnest garment walked away with the business. Cutters were keen to have their trade recognized as one of the twelve companies, because who wouldn’t want their doublet cut skin-tight, and their shirt layered under it to keep cooler? Just mentioning a freeze jerkin was enough to put a man’s life at risk; it was treason for a heavyset man to come within five miles of the court. I heard of a family where no one survived, and they only had an Irish rug locked up in a chest, not even laid on any bed, and if those sick with this disease slept on it, they never woke up. Physicians with their remedies were clueless and didn’t know what to do. Galen might as well have gone shopping for all the good he could do; his secretaries had called him divine for so long, he had lost all his real abilities. Hippocrates might have helped almanac makers, but here he had nothing to say; a man could catch the sweat just by trying to figure it out fruitlessly, rather than curing it with any of his useless principles. Paracelsus, with his butter spirit and mineral spirits, couldn’t even manage to say, "God help him." There was more infection in the physician himself than his art could remedy. This mortality first struck old men, who took pride in having their chests loosely stuffed with bothersome beards, keeping their homes so hot with these hairy remnants that even their walls sweated saltpetre from the oppressive heat; many of them had remarkably hot breaths that getting caught in their bushy beards couldn’t help but (like air trapped too long) breed corruption. Our brother Bankes, who’s more recent, was wiser; he clipped his juggling horse for fear that if he ever stumbled, the smell caught in his thick bushy tail might offend his audience. If I told you how many pursuants with red noses and sergeants with gaunt faces shrank away in this sweat, you wouldn’t believe me. Just as a salamander singes apples on trees with its gaze, so a pursuant or sergeant at that time could spoil a man from afar with the mere reflection of their fancy faces. In some places of the world, there’s no shadow from the sun; if it had been like that in England back then, the descendants of Brute would all have perished. To wrap this all up about the pursuants, the intense and scorching air that surrounded them was such that even the most blessed man alive would have thought God was kind to him if He had turned him into a goat, since goats breathe not only through their mouths or noses but also through their ears.
Take breath how they would, I vowd to tarrie no longer amongst them. As at Turwin I was a demie souldier in iest, so now I became a martiallist in earnest. Ouer sea with my implements I got me, where hearing the king of France and the Swizers were together by the ears, I made towards them as fast as I could, thinking to thrust my selfe into that faction that was strongest It was my good lucke or my ill, I know not which, to come iust to ye fighting of the battel, where I sawe a wonderfull spectacle of bloud shed on both sides, here the vnwildie swizers wallowing in their gore, like an oxe in his doung, there the sprightly French sprawling and turning on the stayned grasse, like a roach newe taken out of the streame, all the ground was strewed as thicke with battle axes, as the carpenters yard with chips. The plaine appeared like a quagmire, ouerspread as it was with trampled dead bodies. In one place might you beholde a heape of dead murthered men ouerwhelmed with a falling steed, in stead of a tombe stone, in another place a bundle of bodies fettered together in theyr owne bowels, and as the tyrant Romane Empereurs vsed to tie condemned liuing caitifes face to face to dead corses, so were the halfe liuing here mixt with squeazed carcases long putrifide. Anie man might giue armes that was an actor in that battell, for there were more armes and legs scattered in the field that daie, than will be gathered vp till dooms daie, the French king himselfe in this conflict was much distressed, the braines of his owne men sprinkled in his face, thrice was his courser slaine vnder him, and thrice was hee strucke on the breast with a speare, but in the end, by the helpe of the Venetians, the Heluesians or Swizers were subdude, and he crowned victor, a peace concluded, and the cittie of Millain surrendered vnto him, as a pledge of reconciliation. That warre thus blowen ouer, and the seueral bands dissolued, like a crow that still followes aloofe where there is carrion, I flew me ouer to Munster in Germanie, which an Anabaptisticall brother named Iohn Leiden kepte at that instant against the Emperor and the Duke of Saxonie. Here I was in good hope to set vp my staffe for some reasonable time, deeming that no Citie would driue it to a siege except they were able to holde out, and pretily well had these Munsterians held out, for they kept the Emperour and the Duke of Saxonie sound plaie for the space of a yeere, and longer wold haue done, but that dame famine came amongst them, wherevppon they were forst by messengers to agree vpon a daie of fight, when according to theyr anabaptisticall errour they might be all new christned in theyr owne bloud.
Taking a breath, I vowed not to stay among them any longer. Just as I had been a half-hearted soldier in jest at Turwin, I now became a serious fighter. I gathered my gear and headed across the sea, where I heard that the king of France and the Swiss were clashing. I rushed to join whatever side was winning. It was either my good luck or my bad luck—I can’t tell which—that I arrived just in time to see the battle, a horrific scene of bloodshed on both sides. The Swiss lay in their blood like an ox in its dung, while the lively Frenchmen sprawled on the stained grass, twisting like fish newly pulled from the stream. The ground was covered with battle axes as thick as a carpenter’s yard is with chips. The plain looked like a swamp, littered with trampled dead bodies. In one spot, I saw a heap of slain men crushed beneath a fallen horse, instead of a tombstone, and in another, bodies tangled together in their own entrails. Just like how the cruel Roman emperors used to tie condemned captives face-to-face with dead corpses, here the half-dead were mixed with long-putrefied bodies. Anyone who fought in that battle could lose a limb, as there were more arms and legs scattered across the field that day than will ever be gathered until the end of time. The French king was in serious trouble during this conflict, his men’s brains splattered on his face, his horse killed beneath him three times, and he was struck in the chest with a spear three times. But in the end, with the help of the Venetians, the Helvetians or Swiss were defeated, and he was crowned victor, with a peace treaty signed and the city of Milan surrendered to him as a sign of reconciliation. After that war died down and the various factions disbanded, like a crow lurking at a distance where there’s carrion, I flew over to Münster in Germany, which was at that time held by an Anabaptist leader named John Leiden against the Emperor and the Duke of Saxony. I hoped to settle there for a while, thinking that no city would lay siege unless it could hold out, and the people of Münster had held out well, keeping the Emperor and the Duke of Saxony at bay for a year. They could have lasted longer if not for famine, which forced them, through messengers, to agree on a day to fight when, according to their Anabaptist beliefs, they could all be rebaptized in their own blood.
That daie come, flourishing entered lohn Leiden the botcher into the field, with a scarfe made of lists, like a bowcase, a crosse on his brest like a thred bottom, a round twilted Tailers cushion buckled lyke a tancard bearers deuice to his shoulders for a target, the pike whereof was a packe needle, a tough prentises club for his speare, a great brewers cow on his back for a corslet, and on his head for a helmet a huge high shoo with the bottome turnd vpward, embossed as full of hobnailes as euer it might sticke, his men were all base handie craftes, as coblers, and curriers, and tinkers, whereof some had barres of yron, some hatchets, some coole staues, some dung forks, some spades, some mattockes, some wood kniues, some addsses for theyr weapons, he that was best prouided, had but a peece of a rustie browne bill brauely fringed with cobwebbes to fight for him: perchance here and there you might see a felow that had a canker eaten seul on his head, which serued him and his ancestors for a chamber pot two hundred yeeres, and another that had bent a couple of yron dripping pans armourwise, to fence his backe and his belly, another that had thrust a payre of dry olde bootes as a breast plate before his belly of his doublet, because he would not be dangerously hurt: another that had twilted all his trusse full of counters, thinking if the enemie shoulde take him, he would mistake them for golde, and so saue his life for his money. Very deuout asses they were, for all they were so dunstically set forth, & such as thought they knew as much of Gods minde as richer men, why inspiration was their ordinarie familiar, and buzde in theyr eares like a Bee in a boxe euerie houre what newes from heauen, hell, and the lands of whipperginnie, displease them who durst, hee shoulde have his mittimus to damnation ex tempore, they woulde vaunt there was not a pease difference twixt them and the Apostles, they were as poore as they, of as base trades as they, and no more inspired than they, and with God there is no respect of persons, onely herein may seeme some little diuersitie to lurke, that Peter wore a sword, and they count it flat hel fire for anie man to weare a dagger, nay so grounded and grauelled were they in this opinion, that now when they should come to battel, thers nere a one of them wold bring a blade (no not an onion blade) about him, to die for it It was not lawfull sayde they, for anie man to draw the sworde but the magistrate, and in fidelitie (which I had welnigh forgot) Iacke Leiden theyr magistrate had the image or likenesse of a peece of a rustie sword like a lusty lad by his side, now I remember me, it was but a foile neither, and he wore it, to shew that he should haue the foile of his enemies, which might haue bin an oracle for his twohande interpretation. Quid plura, his battell is pitcht, by pitcht, I do not meane set in order, for that was far from their order, onely as sailers do pitch their appareil, to make it stormeproofe, so had most of them pitcht their patcht clothes, to make them impearceable. A neerer way than to be at the charges of armor by halfe: and in another sort hee might bee sayde to haue pitcht y field, for he had pitcht or set vp his rest whither to flie if they were discomfited. Peace, peace there in the belfrie, seruice begins, vpon their knees before they ioyne, fals Iohn Leiden and his fraternitie verie deuoutly, they pray, they houle, they expostulate with God to grant them victory, and vse such vnspeakable vehemence, a man would thinke them the onely well bent men vtider heauen, wherein let mee dilate a little more grauely than the nature of this historie requires, or will be expected of so young a practitioner in diuinitie: that not those that intermissiuely cry, Lord open vnto us, Lord open vnto us, enter first into the kingdome of heauen, that not the greatest professors haue the greatest portion in grace, that all is not golde that glisters. When Christ sayd, the kingdome of heauen must suffer violence, hee meant not the violence of long babling praiers to no purpose, nor the violence of tedious inuective sermons without wit, but the violence of faith, the violence of good works, the violence of patient suffering. The ignorant arise and snatch the kingdome of heauen to themselues with greedines, when we with all our learning sinke downe into hell. Where did Peter and Iohn in the third of the Acts, finde the lame cripple but in the gate of the temple called beautifull, in the beautifullest gates of our temple, in the forefront of professors, are many lame cripples, lame in lyfe, lame in good workes, lame in euerie thing, yet will they alwayes sit at the gates of the temple, none be more forwarde tha they to enter into matters of reformation, yet none more behinde hand to enter into the true temple of the Lord by the gates of good life. You may obiect, that those which I speak against, are more diligent in reading the scriptures, more carefull to resort vnto sermons, more sober in their lookes and modest in their attire than anie else: but I praie you let me aunswere you, Doth not Christ saie, that before the latter daie the Sunne shall be turned into darknes, & the Moone into bloud, whereof what may the meaning be, but that the glorious sun of the gospell shall be eclipsed with the dun cloude of dissimulation, that that which is the brightest planet of saluation, shall be a meanes of errour and darknes: and the moone shal be turned into bloud, those that shine fairest, make the simplest shew, seeme most to fauour religion, shall rent out the bowels of the Church, be turned into bloud, and all this shall come to passe, before the notable daie of the Lord, whereof this age is the eue. Let me vse a more familiar example since the heate of a great number hath outraged so excessiuely. Did not the deuill leade Christ to the pinacle or highest part of the temple to tempt him, if he lead Christ, he wil leade a whole armie of hypocrites to the toppe or highest part of the temple, the highest step of religion and holines, to seduce them and subuert them. I say vnto you that which this our tempted sauiour with many other words besought his disciples, saue your selues from this froward generation. Verily, verily the seruaunt is not greater than his master: verily, verily, sinful men are not holier than holy Jesus their maker. That holy Jesus againe repeats this holy sentence, Remember the wordes I sayde vnto you, the seruant is not holier or greater than his master, as if he should say, remember then, imprint in your memorie your pride and singularitie will make you forget them, the effectes of them many yeeres hence will come to passe. Whosoeuer will seeke to saue his soule shall loose it Whosoeuer seekes by headlong meanes to enter into heauen, & disanull Gods ordinance, shal with y gyants that thought to scale heauen in contempt of Jupiter, be ouerwhelmed with mount Ossa & Pelion, & dwel with the deuill in eternal desolation. Though the high priests office was expired, when Paul said vnto one of them, God rebuke thee thou painted sepulchre, yet when a stander by reproued him saying, Reuilest thou the high priest? he repented & askt forgiuenesse. That which I suppose I doe not grant, the lawfulnes of the authoritie they oppose themselues agaynst, is sufficiently proued, farre bee it my vnderage argumentes should intrude themselues as a greene weake prop to support so high a building, let it suffice, if you knowe Christ, you know his father also, if you know Christianitie, you know the Fathers of the Church also, but a greate number of you with Philip haue bene long with Christ, and haue not knowen him, haue long professed your selues Christians, and not knowen his true ministers, you follow the French and Scotitsh fashion and faction, and in all pointes are lyke the Swizers, Qui quorunt cum qua gente cadunt, that seeke with what nation they may first miscarrie.
That day arrived when John Leiden, the cobbler, marched into the field, wearing a scarf made from fabric like a bowcase, a cross on his chest like a threaded bottom, a round tailored cushion strapped to his shoulders like a shield, the point of which was a packing needle, a tough apprentice’s club for a spear, a large brewer's kettle on his back for armor, and on his head, a huge high shoe with the bottom turned upward, covered in so many hobnails that it could hardly stick. His men were all lowly craftsmen—cobblers, curriers, and tinkers—some with iron bars, some with hatchets, some old sticks, some dung forks, some spades, some mattocks, some wood knives, and some axes for weapons. The best-equipped had only a bit of a rusty brown bill, stylishly fringed with cobwebs to fight with; occasionally, one might see a guy with a canker-eaten bowl on his head, which had served him and his ancestors as a chamber pot for two hundred years, and another who had bent a couple of iron frying pans together to protect his back and belly, while another had stuck a pair of old dried boots as a breastplate over his belly because he wanted to avoid getting seriously hurt. There was even one who had stuffed his pants full of counters, thinking that if the enemy caught him, they would mistake them for gold and thus save his life for his money. They were very devout, despite their ridiculous get-ups, and they believed they knew as much about God’s will as richer folks did. Inspiration was their constant companion, buzzing in their ears like a bee in a box every hour with the latest news from heaven, hell, and the lands of nonsense. Anyone who dared to upset them would immediately receive a warrant for damnation. They would boast that there was no difference between them and the apostles; they were as poor as they were, from as lowly trades as they were, and no more inspired than they were, and with God, there is no favoritism—except for a slight disparity that may be lurking, which is that Peter carried a sword, while they deemed it completely ridiculous for anyone to wear a dagger. They were so grounded in this belief that when it was time for battle, not a single one of them would bring a blade (not even an onion blade) with them to die for it. They claimed it was not lawful for anyone but the magistrate to draw the sword, and in truth (which I almost forgot), Jack Leiden, their magistrate, had the image or likeness of a rusty sword like a strapping lad by his side. Now that I remember, it wasn’t even a real sword; he carried it to show he would have the upper hand over his enemies, which could have been an oracle for his two-handed interpretation. In short, his battle was set—not in a well-ordered manner, for that was far from their style, but just like sailors prepare their gear to weather a storm, most of them had patched their clothes to make them impervious. It was a cheaper way to avoid the costs of armor by half; and in another way, he could be said to have pitched the field since he had set up a place to flee to if they were defeated. "Quiet down there in the bell tower, service is starting!" On their knees before joining the fight, John Leiden and his fraternity prayed devoutly, howling, and arguing with God to grant them victory, using such indescribable fervor that one would think they were the only truly righteous people under heaven. Let me elaborate a bit more seriously than the nature of this story might require or what you might expect from such a young practitioner in divinity: Not those who intermittently cry, "Lord, open to us, Lord, open to us," will be the first to enter the kingdom of heaven; not the greatest professors have the largest share of grace; all that glitters is not gold. When Christ said the kingdom of heaven must suffer violence, he wasn't referring to the violence of long, pointless prayers or to the violence of tedious, witless sermons, but to the violence of faith, the violence of good works, and the violence of patient suffering. The ignorant grab the kingdom of heaven for themselves with greediness, while we with all our learning sink down into hell. Where did Peter and John in the third of Acts find the lame beggar? But at the beautiful gate of the temple, at the most beautiful entrances of our temple, at the forefront of professing believers are many lame cripples—crippled in life, crippled in good works, crippled in everything—yet they will always sit at the gates of the temple, none more eager than they to jump into matters of reform, yet none so slow to enter the true temple of the Lord by the gates of a good life. You might object that those I speak against are more diligent in reading the scriptures, more careful about attending sermons, and more sober and modest in their appearance than anyone else; but let me answer you this: Doesn’t Christ say that before the end of days, the sun will turn to darkness and the moon to blood? What can this mean but that the glorious sun of the gospel will be eclipsed by the dark cloud of hypocrisy? That what is the brightest beacon of salvation will become a means for error and darkness; and the moon will turn to blood, those who shine the brightest and appear to support religion will tear the church apart and be turned to blood, and all this will happen before the notable day of the Lord, of which this age is the eve. Let me give you a more familiar example, since the fervor of so many has become excessive. Did not the devil lead Christ to the highest point of the temple to tempt him? If he could lead Christ, he will lead an entire army of hypocrites to the peak of religion and holiness to seduce and mislead them. I say to you what our tempted Savior urged his disciples with many other words: save yourselves from this corrupt generation. Truly, truly, the servant is not greater than his master; truly, truly, sinful men are not holier than holy Jesus, their maker. Again, that holy Jesus repeats this holy saying: "Remember the words I said to you, the servant is not greater than his master," as if to say, remember then, engrave in your memory your pride and individuality will make you forget them; the effects of this will manifest many years from now. Whoever attempts to save his soul will lose it. Whoever seeks to bluntly enter heaven and defy God’s ordinance will, like the giants who thought to scale heaven in contempt of Jupiter, be overwhelmed by mount Ossa and Pelion and dwell with the devil in eternal desolation. Even though the high priest's office had ended when Paul said to one of them, "God rebuke you, you painted sepulcher," when a bystander reproached him, "Do you revile God’s high priest?" he repented and asked for forgiveness. That which I assume I do not grant—the legitimacy of the authority they oppose—is sufficiently proven. Far be it from my novice arguments to intrude themselves as a weak green prop to support such a grand structure; it suffices to say, if you know Christ, you know his Father as well. If you know Christianity, you know the Fathers of the Church too, but many of you, like Philip, have been long with Christ and have not known him; you have long professed yourselves Christians but not recognized his true ministers. You follow the French and Scottish fashion and faction, and in all respects are like the Swiss; "They who commune with a certain nation fall in with it." They seek any nation they can first confine themselves within.
In the dayes of Nero there was an odde fellowe that had found out an exquisite waie to make glasse as hammer proofe as golde: shall I saie, that the like experiment he made vppon glasse, we haue practised on the Gospell? I, confidently will I, we haue found out a slight to hammer it to anie heresie whatsoeuer, but those furnaces of falshood and hammer heads of heresie must be dissolued and broken as his was, or els I feare me the false glittering glasse of innouation will bee better esteemed of than the ancient gold of the gospell. The fault of faults is this, that your dead borne faith is begotten by to too infant fathers. Cato one of the wisest men Roman histories canonized, was not borne till his father was foure score yeeres olde, none can be a perfect father of faith and beget men aright vnto God, but those that are aged in experience, haue many yeres imprinted in their milde conuersation, and haue with Zaclteus sold all their possessions of vanities, to inioy the sweet fellowshippe, not of the humane but spirituall messias. Ministers and pastors sell awaie your sects and schismes to the decrepite Churches in contention beyond sea, they haue bene so long inured to warre both about matters of religion and regiment, that now they haue no peace of minde, but in troubling all other mens peace. Because the pouertie of their prouinces will allow them no proportionable maintenance for higher callings of ecclesiasticall magistrates, they would reduce vs to the president of their rebellious persecuted beggerie: much like the sect of philosophers called cinikes, who when they saw they were borne to no lands or possessions, nor had anie possible meanes to support their desperate estates, but they must liue despised and in miserie doe what they could, they plotted and consulted with themselues howe to make theyr pouertie better esteemed of than rich dominion and soueraigntie. The vpshot of their plotting and consultation was this, that they would liue to themselues, scorning the verie breath or conipanie of all men, they profest (according to y rate of their lands) voluntarie pouerty, thin fare and lying hard, contemning and inueighing against al those as brute beasts whatsoeuer whom the world had giuen anie reputation for riches or prosperitie. Diogenes was one of the first and fonnost of the ringleaders of this rustie morositie, and he for all his nice dogged disposition, and blunt deriding of worldly drosse, and the grosse felycitie of fooles, was taken notwithstanding a little after verie fairely coining monie in his cell: so fares it vp and down with our cinicall reformed forraine Churches, they will disgest no grapes of great Bishoprikes forsooth, because they cannot tell how to come by them, they must shape their cotes good men according to their cloth, and doe as they may, not as they woulde, yet they must giue vs leaue heere in England that are their honest neighbours, if wee haue more cloth than they, to make our garment somewhat larger. What was the foundation or groundworke of this dismall declining of Munster, but the banishing of their Bishop, their confiscating and casting lots for Church liuings, as the souldiers cast lots for Christes garments, and in short tearmes, theyr making the house of God a den of theeues. The house of God a number of hungry church robbers in these dayes haue made a den of theeues. Theeues spend loosely what they haue got lightly, sacriledge is no sure inheritance, Dionisius was nere the richer for robbing Iupiter of his golden coate, he was driuen in the end to play the schoolmaster at Corinth. The name of religion, be it good or bad that is ruinated, God neuer suffers vnreuenged, He say of it as Ouid sayd of Eunuchs:
In the days of Nero, there was a strange guy who figured out a brilliant way to make glass as tough as gold. Should I say that the same experiment he did with glass, we've done with the Gospel? I confidently will say that we have found a way to twist it to fit any heresy out there, but those furnaces of falsehood and hammer heads of heresy must be dissolved and shattered like his was, or else I fear the fake, shiny glass of innovation will be valued more than the ancient gold of the Gospel. The greatest flaw is that your lifeless faith is born from two too young fathers. Cato, one of the wisest men canonized in Roman history, wasn’t born until his father was eighty years old. No one can be a true father of faith and truly guide people to God unless they are seasoned in experience, have many years of gentle interactions, and have, like Zacchaeus, sold all their possessions of vanity to enjoy sweet fellowship not with the human, but with the spiritual Messiah. Ministers and pastors are selling away your factions and divisions to the struggling churches abroad; they have been so long used to fighting over matters of religion and governance that now they find no peace of mind except in stirring up trouble for others. Because the poverty of their regions won’t provide them with suitable support for higher ecclesiastical roles, they would like to pull us down to the level of their rebellious, persecuted misery—much like the group of philosophers known as Cynics, who, when they realized they had no land or possessions and could find no way to sustain their desperate situation, chose to live in disdain and misery as best they could. They plotted and conspired among themselves on how to make their poverty more esteemed than wealth and power. The conclusion of their plotting and discussions was to live for themselves, scoffing at the very breath or presence of anyone else. They professed, based on their lack of resources, voluntary poverty, meager meals, and sleeping rough, condemning and denouncing anyone whom the world held in high esteem for wealth or prosperity. Diogenes was one of the first and most prominent leaders of this sour discontent; despite his fussy, grumpy nature and blunt rejection of worldly trash and the gross happiness of fools, he was later found quite nicely minting coins in his cell. So it goes with our cynical reformed foreign churches; they won't touch the grapes of high bishoprics because they don’t know how to attain them, they must fit their coats to their means and do what they can, not what they wish, yet they must allow us here in England, their honest neighbors, to make our garments a bit larger if we have more fabric than they do. What was the cause of this dreadful decline in Munster, but the banishment of their bishop, their seizing and tossing lots for church properties, just like soldiers gambled for Christ's garments, essentially turning God's house into a den of thieves. The house of God is now a den of thieves made by hungry church robbers today. Thieves squander what they’ve gotten easily; sacrilege is no secure inheritance. Dionisius didn’t gain wealth from robbing Jupiter of his golden robe—he ended up teaching school in Corinth. The name of religion, whether good or bad, when destroyed, God never allows to go unpunished; He says it just like Ovid said about eunuchs:
Qui primus pueris genitalia membra recidit Vulnera qua fecit deduit ipse pati.
He who first cut the boys' genitals inflicted wounds that he himself had to endure.
Who first depriude yong boies of their best part, With selfe same wounds he gaue he ought to smart.
Who first deprived young boys of their best part, With those same wounds he gave he ought to feel pain.
So would he that first gelt religion or Churchliuings had bin first gelt himselfe or neuer liued, Cardinall Wolsey is the man I aime at, Qui in suas ponas ingeniosus erat, first gaue others a light to his owne ouerthrow. How it prospered with him and his instruments that after wrought for themselues, Chronicles largely report, though not apply, and some parcel of their punishment yet vnpaid, I doe not doubt but will bee required of their posteritie.
So would he that first founded religion or church services have first founded himself or never lived. Cardinal Wolsey is the person I'm talking about, Qui in suas ponas ingeniosus erat, who first gave others a way to his own downfall. History tells us how things went for him and the people he influenced who later worked for their own benefit, although it doesn’t mention it directly, and I have no doubt that some part of their punishment, still unpaid, will be demanded from their descendants.
To go forward with my storie of the ouerthrowe of that vsurper Iohn Leiden, he and all his armie (as I saide before) falling prostrate on their faces, and ferquently giuen ouer to praier, determined neuer to cease, or leaue soliciting of God, till he had shewed them from heauen some manifest miracle of successe. Note that it was a general receiued tradition both with I. Leiden and all the crue of Cnipper-dolings and Muncers, if God at anie time at their vehement outcries and clamors did not condiscend to their requests, to raile on him and curse him to his face, to dispute with him, and argue him of iniustice, for not being so good as his word with them, and to vrge his many promises in the scripture against him: so that they did not serue God simply, but that hee shoulde serue their turnes, and after that tenure are many content to serue as bondmen to saue the danger of hanging: but he that serues God aright, whose vpright conscience hath for his mot, Amor est miki causa sequendi, I serue because I loue: he saies, Ego te potius domine quam tua dona sequar, He rather follow thee O Lord, for thine owne sake, than for anie couetous respect of that thou canst do for me, Christ would haue no folowers, but such as forsooke all and follow him, such as forsake all their owne desires, such as abandon all expectations of rewarde in this world, such as neglected and contemned their liues, their wiues and children in comparison of him, and were content to take vp their crosse and folow him. These Anabaptists had not yet forsooke all and followed Christ, they had not forsooke their owne desires of reuenge and innouation, they had not abandoned their expectation of the spoile of their enimies, they regarded their liues, they lookt after their wiues & children, they tooke not vp their crosse of humilitie and followed him, but would crosse him, vpbraid him, and set him at naught, if he assured not by some signe their praiers and supplications. Deteriora sequuntur, they folowed God as daring him. God heard their praiers, Quod petitur poena est, It was their speedie punishment that they praide for. Lo according to the summe of their impudent supplications, a signe in the heauens appeard the glorious signe of the rainbow, which agreed iust with the signe of their ensigne that was a rainbowe likewise. Wherevpon assuring themselues of victorie, (Miseri quod volunt facile credunt) that which wretches woulde haue they easily beleeue. With shoutes and clamours they presentlie ranne headlong on theyr well deserued confusion. Pittifull and lamentable was their vnpittied and well performed slaughter. To see euen a Beare (which is the most cruellest of all beastes) to too bloudily ouermatcht, and deformedly rent in peeces by an vnconscionable number of curres, it woulde moue compassion against kinde, and make those that beholding him at the stake yet vncoapte with, wisht him a sutable death to his vgly shape, now to recall their hard hearted wishes, and moane him suffering as a mild beast, in comparison of the foule mouthed mastifes his butchers: euen such compassion dyd those ouermatcht vngratious Munsterians obtayne of many indifferent eyes, who now thought them suffering, to bee as sheepe brought innocent to the shambles, when as before they deemed them as a number of wolues vp in armes agaynst the shepheardes. The Emperyalles themselues that were theyr executioners (lyke a Father that weepes when he beates his child, yet still weepes and still beates) not without much ruth and sorrow prosecuted that lamentable massacre, yet drumms and trumpets sounding nothing but stearne reuenge in their eares, made them so eager, that their hands had no leasure to aske counsell of theyr effeminate eyes, theyr swords, theyr pikes, theyr bils, their bows, their caleeuers flew, empierced, knockt downe, shot thorough, and ouerthrew as many men euerie minute of the battell, as there fais eares of corne before the sithe at one blowe, yet all theyr weapons so slaying, empiercing, knocking downe, shooting through, ouerthrowing, dissouleioyned not halfe so many, as the hailing thunder of their great ordenance so ordinary at euerie footstep was the imbrument of iron in bloud, that one could hardly discerne heads from bullettes, or clottered haire from mangled flesh hung with gore. This tale must at one time or other giue vp the ghost, and as good now as stay longer, I would gladly rid my hands of it cleanly if I could tell how, for what with talking of coblers, & tinkers, & roapemakers, and botchers, and durt-daubers, the marke is cleane gone out of my muses mouth, and I am as it were more than dunsified twixt divinitie and poetrie. What is there more as touching this tragedie that you would be resolued of? saie quickly, for now my pen is got vpon his feet again: how I. Leiden dide, is y it? he dide like a dog, he was hanged and the halter paid for. For his companions, do they trouble you? I can tel you they troubled some men before, for they were all kild, and none escapt, no not so much as one to tel the tale of the rainbow. Heare what it is to be Anabaptists, to bee puritans, to be villaines, you may be counted illuminate botchers for a while, but your end wil be Good people pray for me.
To continue with my story about the downfall of that usurper John Leiden, he and his entire army (as I mentioned before) fell flat on their faces and frequently gave themselves to prayer, deciding never to stop or leave off pleading with God until He showed them some clear miracle of success from heaven. It was a commonly accepted belief among John Leiden and all his crew of Cnipper-dolling and Muncers that if God did not respond to their fervent cries and complaints at any time, they would curse Him to His face, argue with Him, and accuse Him of injustice for not keeping His promises to them. They did not serve God simply because they loved Him, but rather because they expected Him to serve their needs. Many are willing to be His servants as long as it keeps them safe from the danger of execution; however, someone who serves God correctly, whose upright conscience is motivated by Amor est miki causa sequendi, “I serve because I love,” says, Ego te potius domine quam tua dona sequar, “I will follow You, O Lord, for Your sake, rather than for anything You might do for me.” Christ wanted followers who would abandon everything to follow Him—those who would forsake all their own desires, give up any expectations of rewards in this world, neglect and disdain their lives, wives, and children in comparison to Him, and were willing to take up their cross and follow Him. These Anabaptists had not yet forsaken everything to follow Christ; they had not given up their desires for revenge and innovation, nor had they abandoned their hopes of plundering their enemies. They valued their lives, looked after their wives and children, took up neither the cross of humility nor followed Him. Instead, they sought to challenge Him, accuse Him, and belittle Him if He did not confirm their prayers and requests with some sign. Deteriora sequuntur, they followed God as if daring Him. God heard their prayers, Quod petitur poena est, and it was swift punishment they were praying for. So according to the sum of their audacious supplications, a sign appeared in the heavens: the glorious sign of the rainbow, which matched their banner, which was also a rainbow. Thus, assured of victory, (Miseri quod volunt facile credunt) what wretched people desired, they believed easily. With shouts and cries, they rushed headlong into their well-deserved ruin. It was pitiful and lamentable to witness their slaughter, where even a bear (the cruelest of all beasts) could evoke compassion when seen too brutally outmatched and deformedly torn apart by an inconceivably large pack of curs. Those looking on at the scene would reconsider their harsh-hearted wishes and grieve for him suffering as a gentle beast compared to the foul-mouthed mastiffs that were his killers. Likewise, many indifferent spectators felt compassion for those outmatched, ungrateful Munsterians, now seeing them suffer like innocent sheep taken to the slaughter, when before they had perceived them as a pack of wolves rising against the shepherds. The Imperialists, their executioners, acted like a father who weeps while beating his child, mourning and feeling sorrow as they carried out that lamentable massacre. Yet drums and trumpets blared nothing but stern revenge in their ears, making them so eager that they barely had time to seek counsel from their softening hearts. Their swords, pikes, bills, bows, and calivers flew, piercing, knocking down, shooting through, and overthrowing as many men every minute of the battle as there are grains of corn before the scythe with one blow. Yet all their weapons, so deadly and piercing, did not take down half as many as the crashing thunder of their great ordnance, which was constantly raining iron and blood, to the point where one could hardly distinguish heads from bullets or matted hair from mangled flesh drenched in gore. This tale must come to an end at some point, and rather than prolong it, I would gladly be rid of it completely if I could figure out how, for while discussing cobblers, tinkers, rope-makers, and tailors, I’ve completely lost the thread of my muse's narrative, and I find myself more than muddied between divinity and poetry. Is there anything more about this tragedy that you would like to know? Speak quickly, for my pen is back on its feet: how John Leiden died, is that it? He died like a dog, he was hanged and the noose was paid for. As for his companions, do they bother you? I can tell you they had previously troubled some men, for they were all killed, and not one escaped, not even one to tell the tale of the rainbow. Hear what it means to be Anabaptists, to be Puritans, to be villains; you may be seen as enlightened tailors for a while, but your end will be “Good people pray for me.”
With the tragicall catastrophe of this munsterian conflict, did I cashier the new vocation of my caualiership. There was no more honorable wars in christendome then towards, wherefore after I had learned to be halfe an houre in bidding a man boniure in germane sunonimas, I trauelled along the cuntrie towards England as fast as I could. What with wagons & bare tentoes hauing attained to Middleborough (good Lord see the changing chances of vs knight arrant infants) I met with the right honourable Lord Henrie Howard Earle of Surrey my late master, Jesu I was perswaded.
With the tragic outcome of this Münster conflict, I decided to give up my new role as a cavalier. There were no more honorable wars in Christendom than this one, so after I learned to spend half an hour wishing a man “bon voyage” in German synonyms, I traveled through the countryside toward England as quickly as I could. With wagons and makeshift tents, I reached Middleborough (good Lord, look at the changing fortunes of us knight-errant young men) and ran into the right honorable Lord Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, my former master. I swear, I was convinced.
I shoulde not be more glad to see heauen than I was to see him, O it was a right noble Lord, liberalitie itselfe, (if in this yron age there were anie such creature as liberality left on the earth) a prince in content because a Poet without peere. Destinie neuer defames her selfe but when she lets an excellent poet die: if there bee anie sparke of Adams paradized perfection yet emberd vp in the breastes of mortall men, certainely God hath bestowed that his perfectest image on poets. None come so neere to God in wit, none more contemne the world, vatis auarus non temere est animus, sayth Horace, versus amat, hoc studet vnurn. Seldom haue you seene anie Poet possessed with auarice, onely verses he loues, nothing else he delights in: and as they contemne the world, so contrarily of the mechanicall worlde are none more contemned. Despised they are of the worlde, because they are not of the world: their thoughts are exalted aboue the worlde of ignorance and all earthly conceits.
I couldn't be happier to see him than I was to see heaven. Oh, he was a truly noble lord, the very essence of generosity (if there's any hint of true generosity left in this iron age). He was a prince in spirit because he was a poet without equal. Destiny never dishonors herself more than when she allows an excellent poet to die. If there's any spark of Adam's perfect nature still alive in mortal men, God has certainly given that perfect image to poets. No one comes closer to God in intellect, and no one despises the world more. "The poet's mind is not easily greedy," says Horace, "he loves verses, that is his singular pursuit." You rarely see a poet consumed by greed; he loves nothing but his verses, nothing else brings him joy. As they look down on the world, the practical world looks down on them in return. They are scorned by society because they don't belong to it; their thoughts are elevated above the ignorance of the world and all earthly concerns.
As sweet angelicall queristers they are continually conuersant in the heauen of artes, heauen it selfe is but the highest height of knowledge, he that knowes himselfe & all things else, knowes the means to be happie: happy, thrice happie are they whome God hath doubled his spirite vppon, and giuen a double soule vnto to be Poets. My heroicall master exceeded in this supernaturall kinde of wit, hee entertained no grosse earthly spirite of auarice, nor weake womanly spirit of pusillanimity and feare that are fained to be of the water, but admirable, airie, and firie spirites, full of freedome, magnanimitie and bountihood. Let me not speake anie more of his accomplishments, for feare I spend al my spirits in praising him and leaue my selfe no vigor of wit, or effectes of a soule to goe forward with my history. Hauing thus met him I so much adored, no interpleading was there of opposite occasions, but backe I must returne and beare halfe stakes with him in the lotterie of trauell. I was not altogether vnwilling to walke along with such a good purse-bearer, yet musing what changeable humor had so sodainly seduced him from his natiue soyle to seeke out needlesse perils in these parts beyond sea, one night verie boldly I demaunded of him the reason that moued him thereto.
As sweet angelic seekers, they are always immersed in the realm of the arts; heaven itself is just the highest level of knowledge. He who understands himself and everything else knows the way to be happy: happy, thrice happy are those whom God has favored with a doubled spirit and given a double soul to be poets. My heroic master excelled in this supernatural kind of wit; he entertained no rough, greedy spirit nor weak, womanly spirit of cowardice and fear, which are falsely believed to be of the water, but rather admirable, airy, and fiery spirits, full of freedom, greatness, and generosity. Let me not speak any more of his achievements, for fear that I might exhaust all my energy in praising him and leave myself with no strength of wit or essence of soul to continue my story. Having encountered him, whom I so much admired, there was no debate of opposing circumstances; I had to return and share half the stakes with him in the lottery of travel. I was not completely unwilling to walk alongside such a generous companion, yet wondering what fickle mood had so suddenly led him from his homeland to seek unnecessary dangers in these foreign lands, one night I boldly asked him what inspired him to do so.
Ah quoth he, my little Page, full little canst thou perceiue howe farre metamorphozed I am from my selfe, since I last sawe thee. There is a little God called Loue, that will not bee worshipt of anie leaden braines, one that proclaimes himselfe sole king and Emperour of pearcing eyes and chiefe soueraigtie of softe heartes, hee it is that exercising his empire in my eyes, hath exorcized and cleane coniured me from my content. Thou knowest stately Geraldine, too stately I feare for me to doe homage to her statue or shrine, she it is that is come out of Italy to bewitch all the wise men of England, vpon Queene Katherine Dowager shee waites, that hath a dowrie of beautie sufficient to make her wooed of the greatest kings in christendome. Her high exalted sunne beames haue set the phenix neast of my breast on fire, and I my selfe haue brought Arabian spiceries of sweete passions and praises, to furnish out the funerall flame of my folly. Those who were condemned to be smothered to death by sinking downe into the softe bottome of an high built bedde of roses, neuer dide so sweete a death as I shoulde die, if her rose coloured disdaine were my deathsman. Oh thrice emperiall Hampton court, Cupids inchaunted castle, the place where I first sawe the perfect omnipotence of the Almightie expressed in mortalitie, tis thou alone, that tithing all other men solace in thy pleasant scituation, affoordest mee nothing but an excellent begotten sorrowe out of the chiefe treasurie of all thy recreations.
Ah, my little Page, you can hardly imagine how much I’ve changed since I last saw you. There’s a little God called Love who won’t be worshipped by any dull minds. He declares himself the sole king and emperor of piercing gazes and the supreme ruler of soft hearts. It’s he, by exercising his power through my eyes, who has completely cast me out from my contentment. You know the stately Geraldine, too proud, I fear, for me to pay homage to her statue or altar. She has come from Italy to charm all the wise men of England, waiting on Queen Katherine Dowager, who has enough beauty in her dowry to attract the greatest kings in Christendom. Her high, radiant beams have set the phoenix nest of my heart on fire, and I’ve brought exotic spices of sweet feelings and praises to feed the funeral flame of my folly. Those who are doomed to smother to death by sinking into the soft depths of a high-built bed of roses never died such a sweet death as I would if her rose-colored disdain were my executioner. Oh, thrice imperial Hampton Court, Cupid’s enchanted castle, the place where I first witnessed the perfect power of the Almighty expressed in mortality, you alone, while comforting all other men with your lovely surroundings, provide me with nothing but exquisite sorrow from the main treasury of all your joys.
Deare Wilton, vnderstand that there it was where I first set eie on my more than celestiall Geraldine. Seeing her I admired her, all the whole receptacle of my sight was vnhabited with her rare worth. Long sute and vncessant protestations got me the grace to be entertained. Did neuer vnlouing seruant so prentiselike obey his neuer pleased mistres, as I dyd her. My lyfe, my wealth, my friendes, had all theyr destinie depending on her command. Uppon a time I was determined to trauell, the fame of Italy, and an especiall affection I had vnto Poetrie my second mistres, for which Italy was so famous, had wholy rauisht mee vnto it There was no dehortment from it, but needes thether I woulde, wherefore comming to my mistres as she was then walking with other Ladyes of estate in paradice at Hampton court, I most humblie besought her of fauour, that shee would giue me so much gracious leaue to absent my selfe from her seruice, as to trauell a yeare or two in Italy. She verie discreetly aunswered mee, that if my loue were so hot as I had often auouched, I dyd verie well to applie the plaister of absence vnto it, for absence, as they saie, causeth forgetfulnesse, yet neuerthelesse since it is Italy my natiue Countrie you are so desirous to see, I am the more willing to make my will yours: I pete Italiam, go and seeke Italie with Aenoas, but bee more true than Aenoas, I hope that kinde wit-cherishing climate will worke no change in so wittie a breast. No countrie of mine shall it be more, if it conspire with thee, in anie newe loue agaynst mee. One charge I will giue thee, and let it bee rather a request than a charge: When thou commest to Florence (the fayre Citie from whence I fetcht the pride of my birth) by an open challenge defende my beautie agaynst all commers.
Dear Wilton, understand that it was here that I first laid eyes on my more than heavenly Geraldine. Seeing her, I admired her; my entire capacity for sight was filled with her rare worth. After a long pursuit and constant declarations of love, I gained the grace to be welcomed. Never did an unloving servant obey his never-satisfied mistress as I did her. My life, my wealth, and my friends all depended on her command. One time I decided to travel, drawn by the fame of Italy and a particular affection I had for Poetry, my second mistress, for which Italy was so renowned; this fully captivated me. There was no discouragement that could stop me; I had to go there. So, coming to my mistress while she was walking with other ladies of status in paradise at Hampton Court, I humbly asked her for the favor of granting me leave to be absent from her service for a year or two in Italy. She wisely replied that if my love were as intense as I often claimed, I would do well to apply the remedy of absence to it, for absence, as they say, causes forgetfulness. However, since it is Italy, my native country, that you are so eager to see, I am more willing to make my wish yours: I pete Italiam, go and seek Italy with Aeneas, but be more faithful than Aeneas; I hope that the warm, charming climate will bring no change to such a witty heart. It shall not be my country if it conspires with you in any new love against me. One request I will give you, and let it be more of a plea than a command: When you arrive in Florence (the lovely city from which I got the pride of my birth), defend my beauty against all challengers with an open challenge.
Thou hast that honourable carryage in armes, that it shall bee no discredite for mee to bequeath all the glorie of my beautie to thy well gouerned arme. Faine woulde I be knowen where I was borne, fayne woulde I haue thee knowen where fame sits in her chiefest theater. Farewell, forget mee not, continued deserts will eternize me vnto thee, thy full wishes shall bee expired when thy trauell shall be once ended.
You have such an honorable way of carrying arms that it wouldn't be a disgrace for me to give all the glory of my beauty to your well-governed arm. I would love to be known for where I was born, and I want you to know where fame sits in her greatest theater. Goodbye, don’t forget me; my continued merits will keep me alive in your memory. Your full desires will only be fulfilled when your journey is over.
Heere dyd teares steppe out before wordes, and intercepted the course of my kinde concerned speech, euen as winde is allayed with raine: with heart scalding sighes I confirmed her parting request, and vowed my selfe hers, while liuing heate allowed mee to bee mine owne, Hinc illo lachrimo heere hence proceedeth the whole cause of my peregrination.
Here, tears came out before I could speak, interrupting my heartfelt words, just like the wind is calmed by rain. With deep, burning sighs, I confirmed her request to leave and promised that I belonged to her, while I was still alive enough to be my own person. Hinc illo lachrimo this is the whole reason for my journey.
Not a litle was I delighted with this vnexpected loue story, especially from a mouth out of which was nought wont to march but sterne precepts of grauitie and modestie. I sweare vnto you I thought his companie the better by a thousande crownes, because he had discarded those nice tearmes of chastitie and continencie. Now I beseech God loue me so well as I loue a plain dealing man, earth is earth, flesh is flesh, earth wil to earth, and flesh vnto flesh, fraile earth, fraile flesh, who can keepe you from the worke of your creation.
I was really delighted by this unexpected love story, especially coming from someone who usually only spoke serious lessons about seriousness and modesty. I swear, I thought his company was worth a thousand crowns more because he had tossed aside those delicate terms of purity and self-control. Now I pray that God loves me as much as I love a straightforward man—earth is earth, flesh is flesh, earth will return to earth, and flesh to flesh; fragile earth, fragile flesh—who can stop you from fulfilling your purpose?
Dismissing this fruitlesse annotation pro et contra, towards Venice we progrest, & tooke Roterdam in our waie, that was cleane out of our waie, there wee met with aged learninges chiefe ornament, that abundant and superingenious clarke Erasmus, as also with merrie sir Thomas Moore our Countrieman, who was come purposely ouer a little before vs, to visite the sayd graue father Erasmus: what talk, what conference we had then, it were heere superfluous to rehearse, but this I can assure you, Erasmus in al his speeches seemed so much to mislike the indiscretion of princes in preferring of parasites & fooles, that he decreed with himselfe to swim with the streame, and write a booke forthwith in commendation of folly. Quick witted sir Thomas Moore traueld in a cleane contrarie prouince, for hee seeing most commonwealths corrupted by ill custome, & that principalities were nothing but great piracies, which gotten by violence and murther, were maintained by priuate vndermining and bloudshed, that in the chiefest flourishing kingdomes there was no equal or wel diuided weale one with another, but a manifest conspiracie of rich men against poore men, procuring their owne vnlawfull commodities vnder the name and interest of the commonwealth: he concluded with himselfe to lay downe a perfect plot of a commonwealth or gouernment, which he would intitle his Vtopia. So lefte wee them to prosecute their discontented studies, & made our next iourney to Wittenberg.
Dismissing this pointless debate for and against, we made our way to Venice, and on the way, we stopped in Rotterdam, which was completely out of our way. There, we met with the esteemed scholar, the brilliant and resourceful Erasmus, as well as the jovial Thomas Moore, our fellow countryman, who had arrived just before us to visit the esteemed Erasmus. It would be unnecessary to recount our discussions and conversations, but I can assure you that Erasmus, in all his speeches, seemed quite discontented with the foolishness of rulers who favored sycophants and fools, leading him to resolve to go along with the tide and quickly write a book praising folly. The sharp-witted Thomas Moore took a completely different approach. He observed that most societies were corrupt due to bad customs, and that principalities were nothing more than large-scale piracy, acquired through violence and murder and sustained by private scheming and bloodshed. He noted that in the most prosperous kingdoms, there was no true equality or fair division among people, just a clear conspiracy of the wealthy against the poor, seeking their own unlawful gain under the guise of the common good. He decided to develop a perfect plan for a commonwealth or government, which he would title Utopia. So we left them to continue their discontented studies and made our way to Wittenberg.
At the verie point of our enterance into Wittenberg, wee were spectators of a verie solemne scolasticall entertainment of the Duke of Saxonie thether. Whome because he was the chiefe patrone of their vniuersitie, and had tooke Luthers parte in banishing the masse and all lyke papall Jurisdiction out of their towne, they croucht vnto extreamly. The chiefe ceremonies of their entertainment were these: first, the heads of their vniuersitie, (they were great heads of certaintie) met him in their hooded hypocrisie and doctorly accoustrement, secundum formam statuti, where by the Orator of the vniuersitie, whose pickerdeuant was very plentifully besprinkled with rose water, a verie learned or rather ruthfull Oration was deliuered (for it raind all the while) signifieng thus much, that it was al by patch and by peecemeale stolne out of Tully, & he must pardon them, though in emptying their phrase bookes, the ayre emptied his intrailes, for they did it not in anie ostentation of wit (which they had not) but to shewe the extraordinarie good will they bare the Duke, (to haue him stand in the raine tyll he was thorough wet) a thousand quernadmodums and quapropters he came ouer him with, euery sentence he concluded with Esse posse videatur: through all the nine worthies he ran with praising and comparing him, Nestors yeares hee assured him off vnder the broade seale of their supplications, and with that crowe troden verse in Virgil, Dum iuga montis aper, hee packt vp his pipes, and cride dixi.
At the exact moment we entered Wittenberg, we witnessed a very solemn academic event for the Duke of Saxony there. Because he was the chief patron of their university and had supported Luther in banning the mass and all similar papal authority from their town, they showed him extreme respect. The main ceremonies of their entertainment were as follows: first, the leaders of their university—who were indeed notable figures—met him in their hooded gowns and scholarly attire, as per the formal requirements. The university's orator, whose distinctive insignia was generously splashed with rose water, delivered a very learned or rather pitiful speech (for it rained the whole time), expressing that everything was pieced together from Tully, and they must be forgiven; while emptying their phrase books, the air emptied his stomach. They did not do this to show off any wit (which they lacked) but to demonstrate their extraordinary goodwill towards the Duke, even having him stand in the rain until he was completely soaked. He overwhelmed him with countless "quernadmodums" and "quapropters," every sentence ending with "Esse posse videatur." He ran through all the nine worthies praising and comparing him, assuring him of Nestor's years under the broad seal of their pleas, and with that line from Virgil, "Dum iuga montis aper," he wrapped up his speech and declared, "dixi."
That pageant ouerpast, there rusht vpon him a miserable rabblement of iunior graduats, that all crid out vpon him mightily in their gibrige lyke a companie of beggers, God saue your grace, God saue your grace, Jesus preserue your highnes, though it be but for an houre.
That event over, a pitiful crowd of junior graduates rushed at him, all shouting loudly in their nonsense like a group of beggars, "God save your grace, God save your grace, Jesus preserve your highness, even if it’s just for an hour."
Some three halfe pennyworth of Latine here also had he throwen at his face, but it was choise stuffe I can tell you, as there is a choise euen amongest ragges gathered vp from the dunghill. At the townes end met him the burgers and dunstical incorporationers of Wittenberg in their distinguished liueries, their distinguished liuerie faces I mene, for they were most of them hot liuered dronkards, and had all the coate coulours of sanguin, purple, crimson, copper, carnation that were to be had in their countenaunces. Filthy knaues, no cost had they bestowed on the town for his welcome, sauing new painted their houghs & bousing houses, which commonly are built fayrer than their Churches, and ouer their gates set the town armes, which sounded gulping after this sort, Vanhotten, slotten, irk bloshen glotten gelderslike: what euer the wordes were, the sense was this, Good drinke is a medicine for all diseases.
Some three and a half pence worth of Latin was also thrown at his face, but it was good stuff, I can tell you, just like there’s good even among rags picked up from the dung heap. At the edge of town, he encountered the citizens and foolish townsfolk of Wittenberg in their fancy outfits, their distinctive faces I mean, because most of them were hot-tempered drunks, and they all had shades of red, purple, crimson, copper, and pink painted on their faces. Filthy scoundrels, they spent no money on the town to welcome him, except for repainting their taverns and party houses, which are typically nicer than their churches. Over their gates, they hung the town’s coat of arms, which roughly translated into something like, Vanhotten, slotten, irk bloshen glotten gelderslike: whatever the words were, the meaning was this, Good drink is a cure for all ailments.
A bursten belly inkhorne orator called Vanderhulke they pickt out to present him with an oration, one that had a sulpherous big swolne large face, like a Saracen, eies lyke two kentish oysters, a mouth that opened as wide euerie time hee spake, as one of those olde knit trap doores, a beard as though it had bin made of a birds neast pluckt in peeces, which consisteth of strawe, haire, and durt mixt together. Hee was apparelled in blacke leather new licourd, and a short gowne without any gathering in the backe, faced before and behind with a boistrous Beare skinne, and a red nightcap on his head. To this purport and effecte was this broccing double beere Oration.
A bloated, loudspeaker-type orator named Vanderhulke was chosen to deliver a speech. He had a yellowish, swollen face that resembled a Saracen's, eyes like two Kentish oysters, and a mouth that opened as widely every time he spoke as an old-fashioned trapdoor. His beard looked like it was made from a bird's nest torn apart, consisting of straw, hair, and dirt mixed together. He was dressed in shiny new black leather and wore a short gown without any pleats in the back, lined on the front and back with a heavy bearskin, and topped it off with a red nightcap. This was the essence of his long-winded, over-the-top speech.
Right noble Duke (ideo nobilis quasi nobilis) for you haue no bile or cholar in you, know that our present incorporation of Wittenberg, by me the tongue-man of their thankfulnes, a townesman by birth, a free Germane by nature, an oratour by arte, and a scriuener by education, in all obedience & chastity, most bountifully bid you welcome to Wittenberg: welcome sayde I? O orificiall rethorike wipe thy euerlasting mouth, and affoord me a more Indian metaphor than that, forthe braue princely bloud of a Saxon. Oratorie vncaske the hard hutch of thy complements, and with the triumphantest troupe in thy treasurie doe trewage vnto him. What impotent speech with his eight partes may not specifie this vnestimable guift holding his peace, shall as it were (with teares I speake it) do wherby as it may seeme or appeare, to manifest or declare & yet it is, & yet it is not, & yet it may bee a diminitiue oblation meritorious to your high pusillanimitie & indignity. Why shoulde I goe gadding and fisgigging after firking flantado Amphibologies, wit is wit, and good will is good will. With all the wit I haue, I here according to the premises, offer vp vnto you the Cities generall good will, which is a guilded Canne, in manner and forme following, for you and the heires of your bodie lawfully begotten, to drinke healths in. The scolasticall squitter bookes clout you vp cannopies & footclothes of verses. Wee that are good fellowes, and liue as merrie as cup and can, will not verse vpon you as they do, but must doe as we can, and entertaine you if it bee but with a playne emptie Canne. He hath learning inough that hath learnd to drinke to his first man.
Right noble Duke (i.e., truly noble), since you have no anger or ill will in you, know that our current community in Wittenberg, represented here by me, their grateful spokesperson, a local by birth, a true German by nature, a speaker by skill, and a scribe by training, happily welcomes you to Wittenberg: welcome, did I say? Oh, eloquent rhetoric, silence your endless chatter, and provide me with a more fitting metaphor than that, for the noble Saxon blood. Rhetoric, release the heavy burden of your compliments, and with your grand ensemble in your treasury, pay tribute to him. What ineffective speech, with its eight parts, can properly express this invaluable gift while remaining silent, shall, as it were (with tears I say this), seem to reveal or declare—and yet it is, and yet it is not, and yet it may be a lesser offering worthy of your high timidity and unworthiness. Why should I wander and chase after tricky ambiguities? Wit is wit, and goodwill is goodwill. With all the wit I have, here, in light of the above, I offer you the city's general goodwill, which is a gilded cup, in the manner and form that follows, for you and your legally begotten heirs to drink health in. The academic writings provide you canopies and footcloths of verses. We, who are good fellows and live as merrily as cup and can, will not write verses about you as they do, but must do what we can and entertain you even if it is just with a plain empty cup. He has enough knowledge who has learned to drink to his original man.
Gentle Duke, without paradox be it spoken, thy horses at your owne proper costs and charges shall kneed vp to the knees all the while thou art here in spruce beere & lubeck licour. Not a dog thou bringst with thee but shall be banketted with rhenish wine and sturgion. On our shoulders we weare no lamb skin or miniuer like these academikes, yet wee can drinke to the confusion of all thy enemies. Good lambes-wooll haue we for their lambe skins, and for their miniuer, large minerals in our coffers. Mechanicall men they call vs, and not amisse, for most of vs being Mochi, yt is, cuckolds & whooremasters, fetch our antiquitie from the temple of Mocha, where Mahomet is hung vp. Three parts of the world, America, Affrike and Asia, are of this our mechanike religion. Nero when he crid O quantus artifex pereo, profest himselfe of our freedome. Insomuch as Artifex is a citizen or craftsman, as wel as Carnifex a scholler or hangman. Passe on by leaue into the precincts of our abhomination. Bony Duke, frolike in our bowse, and perswade thy selfe that euen as garlike hath three properties, to make a man winke, drinke, and stinke, so wee wyll winke on thy imperfections, drinke to thy fauorites, & all thy foes shall stinke before vs. So be it Farewell.
Gentle Duke, without any contradiction, your horses at your own expense will be pampered while you're here enjoying spruce beer and Lubeck liquor. Not a single dog you bring will go without a feast of Rhine wine and sturgeon. We wear no lambskin or black robes like those academics, yet we can toast to the downfall of all your enemies. We have good lamb's wool for their lambskins, and instead of black robes, we have valuable minerals in our vaults. They call us mechanical men, and rightly so, as many of us are **Mochi**, meaning cuckolds and womanizers, finding our roots in the temple of **Mocha**, where Mohammed is honored. Three parts of the world—Americas, Africa, and Asia—belong to this our mechanical religion. **Nero** when he cried **O quantus artifex pereo**, proclaimed himself part of our freedom. Just as **Artifex** is a citizen or tradesman, so is **Carnifex** a scholar or executioner. Move on with permission into the areas we detest. Bony Duke, carefree in our revelry, and convince yourself that just as garlic has three effects—to make a man wink, drink, and stink—we will overlook your flaws, drink to your favorites, and all your enemies will stink before us. So be it. Farewell.
The Duke laught not a little at this ridiculous oration, but that verie night, as great an ironicall occasion was ministred, for he was bidden to one of the chiefe schoolesto a Comedie handled by scollers. Acolastus the prodigall childe was the name of it, which was so filthily acted, so leathernly sette foorth, as woulde haue moued laughter in Heraclitus. One as if he had beene playning a clay floore stampingly troade the stage so harde with his feete, that I thought verily he had resolued to doe the Carpenter that sette it vp some vtter shame. Another floung his armes lyke cudgelles at a peare tree, in so much as it was mightily dreaded that hee woulde strike the candles that hung aboue theyr heades out of their sockets, and leaue them all darke. Another did nothing but winke and make faces. There was a parasite, & he with clapping his hands and thripping his fingers seemed to dance an antike to and fro The onely thing they did well, was the prodigal childes hunger, most of their schollers being hungerly kept, and surely you would haue sayd they had ben brought vp in hogs academie to learne to eate acornes, if you had seene how sedulously they fell to them. Not a iest had they to keepe their auditors from sleepe but of swill and draffe, yes now and then the seruant put his hand into the dish before his master, and almost choakt himselfe, eating slouenly and rauenously to cause sport.
The Duke laughed a lot at this ridiculous speech, but that same night, he had an equally ironic experience, as he was invited to a major school to see a comedy performed by students. Acolastus, the prodigal child, was the title, and it was acted out so poorly and awkwardly that it could have made even Heraclitus laugh. One actor, as if he were stamping a clay floor, stomped so hard on the stage that I thought he was set on embarrassing the carpenter who built it. Another flailed his arms like he was hitting a pear tree, to the point where it seemed he might knock the candles hanging above their heads out of their sockets and leave everyone in the dark. One just winked and made faces. There was a parasite, who, by clapping his hands and snapping his fingers, seemed to dance an ancient jig back and forth. The only thing they really portrayed well was the prodigal child’s hunger, most of the students being poorly fed, and you would have thought they had been raised in a hog's academy to learn to eat acorns, judging by how eagerly they dug in. They had no jokes to keep the audience awake except about drinking and slop, and now and then the servant would reach into the dish before his master, nearly choking himself, eating messily and ravenously to entertain.
The next daie they had solempne disputations, where Luther and Carolostadius scolded leuell coile. A masse of words I wot well they heapt vp against the masse and the Pope, but farther perticulars of their disputations I remember not. I thought verily they woulde haue worried one another with wordes, they were so earnest and vehement. Luther had the louder voice, Carolostadius went beyond him in beating and bounsing with his fists, Quæ supra nos nihil ad nos. They vttered nothing to make a man laugh, therefore I wil leaue them. Mary theyr outward iestures now and then would affoorde a man a morsell of mirth: of those two I meane not so much, as of all the other traine of opponents and respondents. One peckte like a crane with his forefinger at euery halfe sillable he brought forth, and nodded with his nose like an olde singing man, teaching a yong querister to keepe time. Another would be sure to wipe his mouth with his handkercher at the end of euerie full point And euer when he thought he had cast a figure so curiously, as he diu'de ouer head and eares into his auditors admiration, hee would take occasion to stroke vp his haire, and twine vp his mustachios twice or thrice ouer while they might haue leasure to applaud him. A third wauerd and wagled his head, like a proud horse playing with his bridle, or as I haue seene some fantasticall swimmer, at euerie stroke, traine his chin sidelong ouer his left shoulder. A fourth swet and foamed at the mouth, for verie anger his aduersarie had denied that part of his sillogisme which he was not prepared to aunswere. A fifth spread his armes like an vsher that goes before to make roome, and thript with his finger & his thumbe when he thought he had tickled it with a conclusion. A sixt hung downe his countenance lyke a sheepe, and stutted and slauered verie pittifully when his inuention was stept aside out of the waie. A seuenth gaspt and gapt for winde, and groned in his pronunciation as if he were hard bound in some bad argument. Grosse plodders they were all, that had some learning and reading, but no wit to make vse of it They imagined the Duke tooke the greatest pleasure and contentment vnder heauen to heare them speak. Latine, and as long as they talkt nothing but Tully he was bound to attend them. A most vaine thing it is in many vniuersities at this daye, that they count him excellent eloquent, who stealeth not whole phrases but whole pages out of Tully. If of a number of shreds of his sentences he can shape an oration, from all the world hee carries it awaie, although in truth it be no more than a fooles coat of many coulours. No inuention or matter haue they of theyr owne, but tacke vp a stile of his stale galimafries. The leaden headed Germanes first began this, and we Englishmen haue surfetted of their absurd imitation. I pittie Nizolius that had nothing to doe, but picke thrids ends out of an olde ouerworne garment. This is but by the waie, we must looke backe to our disputants. One amongst the rest thinking to be more conceited than his fellowes, seeing the Duke haue a dog hee loued well, which sate by him on the tarras, conuerted all his oration to him, and not a haire of his taile but he kembd out with comparisons. So to haue courted him if he were a bitch had bin verie suspitious. Another commented & descanted on the Dukes staffe, new tipping it with many queint epithites. Some cast his natiuitie, and promised him he should not die till the daie of Judgement Omitting further superfluities of this stampe, in this general assembly we found intermixed that abundant scholler Cornelius Agrippa. At that time he bare the fame to be the greatest coniurer in Christendome. Scoto that did the iugling trickes here before the Queene, neuer came neere him one quarter in magicke reputation. The Doctors of Wittenberg doting on the rumour that went of him, desired him before the Duke and them to doe something extraordinarie memorable.
The next day they had formal debates, where Luther and Carolostadius went at it hard. I know they piled up a lot of words against the Mass and the Pope, but I can’t recall the specifics of their arguments. I honestly thought they would get into a real fight with their words, they were so passionate and intense. Luther had the louder voice, while Carolostadius outdid him in pounding the table and gesturing wildly. They didn’t say anything funny, so I’ll leave them be. However, their exaggerated gestures occasionally provided a bit of amusement. I’m not just talking about those two, but also about their entire group of opponents and respondents. One guy poked at every syllable with his fingertip like a crane and nodded his head like an old singer teaching a young choir member to keep time. Another made sure to wipe his mouth with a handkerchief at the end of every full statement. Whenever he thought he had made a clever point that impressed the audience, he took the opportunity to smooth his hair and twist his mustache a few times while they applauded him. A third guy bobbed his head like a proud horse playing with its bridle, or like a flashy swimmer who, with every stroke, angled his chin sideways over his left shoulder. A fourth was sweating and foaming at the mouth from anger because his opponent had denied the part of his syllogism he wasn’t prepared to answer. A fifth guy spread his arms like a guide trying to clear a path, and snapped his fingers as if he had just made a clever conclusion. A sixth hung his head like a sheep, stuttered, and fumbled pathetically when his thoughts wandered off track. A seventh gasped for breath and groaned through his words as if he were stuck in some terrible argument. They were all heavy plodders, somewhat learned and read, but had no wit to use it. They thought the Duke took the greatest pleasure under heaven in hearing them speak in Latin, and as long as they talked nothing but Tully, he was obliged to listen. It’s quite foolish in many universities today that they consider someone excellent at eloquence just because they don’t steal entire phrases but whole pages from Tully. If they can stitch together an oration from bits of his sentences, they take the prize, even though in reality it’s nothing more than a fool's colorful coat. They have no original ideas or topics of their own, just a style of his outdated jumble. The heavy-headed Germans started this trend, and we English have overdosed on their ridiculous imitation. I feel sorry for Nizolius, who had nothing to do but pick at the threads of an old, worn-out garment. This is just a side note; we need to return to our debaters. One among them, trying to outshine his peers, noticed the Duke had a dog he loved, sitting by him on the terrace, and turned his entire speech toward it, grooming every hair of its tail with comparisons. It would have looked very suspicious if he had courted it as if it were a bitch. Another guy commented on the Duke’s staff, decorating it with many odd phrases. Some even cast his horoscope and promised him he wouldn’t die until Judgment Day. Leaving out more nonsense of that kind, in that general assembly we found the remarkable scholar Cornelius Agrippa. At that time, he was rumored to be the greatest conjurer in Christendom. Scoto, who performed magic tricks here before the Queen, was nowhere near his level of magical fame. The doctors of Wittenberg, enamored by the rumors about him, asked him to perform something extraordinary in front of the Duke and the others.
One requested to see pleasant Plautus, & that he would shew them in what habite hee went, and with what countenaunce he lookt, when he ground corne in the mill. Another had halfe a moneths minde to Ouid and his hooke nose. Erasmus who was not wanting to that honourable meeting, requested to see Tully in that same grace and maiestie he pleaded his Oration pro Roscio Amerino. Affirming, that til in person he beheld his importunitie of pleading, he woulde not be perswaded anie man coulde carrie awaie a manifest case with rethorike, so straungely. To Erasmus petition he easily condiscended, and willing the Doctours at such an houre to holde theyr conuocation, and euerie one to keepe him in his place without mouing: at the time prefixed in entered Tully, ascended his pleading place, and declaimed verbatim the fornamed Oration, but with such astonishing amazement, with such feruent exaltation of spirite, with such soule-stirring iestures, that all his auditours were readie to install his guiltie client for a God.
One person asked to see pleasant Plautus and wanted to know what he looked like and how he acted when he ground grain in the mill. Another was fascinated by Ovid and his hooked nose. Erasmus, who was not one to miss out on such a prestigious gathering, requested to see Tully in the same grace and majesty that he displayed when he delivered his speech pro Roscio Amerino. He claimed that until he saw his persuasive pleading in person, he wouldn't believe that anyone could win a clear case with mere rhetoric so remarkably. Erasmus's request was easily granted, and he asked the scholars to hold their gathering at the specified time, with everyone to remain seated. At the appointed hour, Tully entered, took his place to plead, and recited verbatim the aforementioned speech, but with such astonishing intensity, such fervent enthusiasm, and such soul-stirring gestures that all his audience was ready to elevate his guilty client to the status of a God.
Greate was the concourse of glorie Agrippa drewe to him with this one feate. And in deede hee was so cloyed with men which came to beholde him, that hee was fayne sooner than hee woulde, to returne to the Emperours court from whence hee came, and leaue Wittenberg before hee woulde. With him we trauelled along, hauing purchast his acquaintance a little before. By the waie as wee went, my master and I agreed to change names. It was concluded betwixte vs, that I shoulde bee the Earle of Surrie, and hee my man, onely because in his owne person, which hee woulde not haue reproched, he meant to take more libertie of behauiour. As for my carryage hee knew hee was to tune it at a key, eyther high or low, or as hee list.
Great was the crowd of glory Agrippa attracted with this one feat. In fact, he was so overwhelmed by people who came to see him that he was forced to return to the emperor's court, from which he had come, sooner than he wanted and leave Wittenberg against his wishes. We traveled along with him, having made his acquaintance a little earlier. Along the way, my master and I decided to change names. We agreed that I would be the Earl of Surrey, and he would be my servant, simply because he wanted to behave more freely without any reproach to himself. As for my behavior, he knew he could adjust it as he saw fit, whether high or low.
To the Emperours Court wee came, where our entertainment was euerie waie plentifull, carouses wee had in whole galons in stead of quart pots. Not a health was giuen vs but contayned well neere a hogshead. The customes of the Countrie we were eager to be instructed in, but nothing we coulde learne but this, that euer at the Emperours coronation there is an Oxe roasted with a stagge in the belly, and that stagge in his belly hath a kidde, and that kidde is stufte full of birdes. Some courtiers to wearie out time woulde tell vs further tales of Cornelius Agrippa, and how when sir Thomas Moore our countrieman was there, hee shewed him the whole destruction of Troy in a dreame. How the Lorde Cromwell being the kings Embassador there, in lyke case, in a perspectiue glasse he set before his eyes, King Henrie the eight with all his Lordes hunting in his forrest at Windsore, and when he came into his studie, and was verie vrgent to be partaker of some rare experiment, that he might report when he came into England, he wilde him amongst two thousande great bookes to take downe which he list, and begin to reade one line in anie place, and without booke he woulde rehearse twentie leaues following. Cromwell dyd so, and in manye bookes tride him, when in euerie thing hee exceeded his promise and conquered his expectation. To Charles the fifte then Emperour, they reported how he shewed the nine worthies, Dauid, Salomon, Gedeon, and the rest, in that similitude and lykenesse that they liued vpon earth. My master and I hauing by the high waie side gotten some reasonable familiarities with him, vpon this accesse of myracles imputed to him, resolued to request him something in our owne behalfes. I because I was his suborned Lorde and master, desired him to see the liuely image of Geraldine his loue in the glasse, and what at that instant she did, and with whome shee was talking. Hee shewed her vs without more adoe, sicke weeping on her bedde, and resolued all into deuoute religion for the absence of her Lorde. At the sight thereof hee coulde in no wise refrayne, though hee had tooke vppon him the condition of a seruant, but hee must forthwith frame this extemporall Dittie.
To the Emperor's court we went, where our hospitality was always abundant; we had drinks by the gallon instead of quart-sized pots. Not a single toast was made to us that wasn’t nearly a hogshead worth. We were eager to learn the customs of the country, but all we could learn was that at the Emperor's coronation, an ox is roasted with a stag in its belly, and that stag has a kid stuffed inside it, and that kid is filled with birds. Some courtiers, to pass the time, would tell us more stories about Cornelius Agrippa, and how when Sir Thomas More, our fellow countryman, was there, he showed him the entire destruction of Troy in a dream. They told how Lord Cromwell, being the king's ambassador there, had in front of him a perspective glass that depicted King Henry the Eighth with all his lords hunting in his forest at Windsor, and when he entered his study and was very eager to experience something extraordinary to report back to England, he encouraged him to choose among two thousand great books and begin reading a line from anywhere, and without looking, he would recite the following twenty pages. Cromwell did just that, and tried many books, exceeding every promise and surpassing all expectations. To Charles the Fifth, the Emperor at the time, they reported how he showed the nine worthies, David, Solomon, Gideon, and the others, in such likeness that they had lived on earth. My master and I, having established some reasonable familiarity with him by the way, in light of these miraculous claims, decided to ask him something on our behalf. Since I was his appointed lord and master, I asked him to show me the living image of Geraldine, his love, in the glass, and what she was doing at that moment, and whom she was speaking with. He showed her to us without hesitation, sick and crying on her bed, completely devoted to her faith due to the absence of her lord. Upon seeing this, he could not help but, although he had taken on the role of a servant, he immediately had to compose this impromptu ditty.
All soule, no earthly fleshy why dost thou fade, All gold, no worthlesse drosse, why lookst thou pale, Sicknesse how darst thou one so faire inuadey Too base infirmitie to worke her bale, Heauen be distemperd since she grieuedpines, Neuer be drie these my sadplaintiue lines. Pearch thou my spirit on her siluer breasts, And with theirpaine redoubled musike beatings, Let them tosse thee to world where all toile rests, Where blisse is subiect to nofeares defeatings, Her praise I tune whose tongue doth tune the sphears, And gets new muses in her hearers eares. Starres fall to fetch fresh light from her rich eyes, Her bright brow driues the Sunne to clouds beneath, Her hair es reflexe with red strokes paints the skies, Sweet morne and euening deaw flowes from her breath: Phoebe rules tides, she my teares tides forth drawesy In her sicke bed hue sits and maketh lawes. Her daintie limbes tinsel I her silke soft sheets, Her rose-crownd cheekes eclipse my daze led sight, O glasse with too much ioy my thoughts thou greets, And yet thou shewst me day but by twielight Ile kisse thee for the kindnesse I hauefelt, Her lips one kisse would vnto Nectar melt.
All soul, no earthly flesh, why do you fade, All gold, no worthless dross, why do you look pale, Sickness, how dare you invade someone so fair, Too base a weakness to bring her harm, Heaven should be disturbed since she suffers, May these sad, plaintive lines never be dry. Perch my spirit on her silver breasts, And with their pain, redoubled musical beats, Let them toss you to a world where all toil rests, Where bliss is not subject to fears’ defeats, I tune her praise, whose voice tunes the spheres, And gains new muses in her listeners' ears. Stars fall to fetch fresh light from her rich eyes, Her bright brow drives the sun under clouds, Her hair reflects with red strokes, painting the skies, Sweet morning and evening dew flow from her breath: Phoebe rules tides; she draws forth my tear tides, Sitting in her sick bed, she makes the laws. Her delicate limbs tangle in her soft silk sheets, Her rose-crowned cheeks eclipse my dazed sight, Oh glass, that greets my thoughts with too much joy, And yet you show me day only by twilight. I’ll kiss you for the kindness I have felt, One kiss from her lips would melt into nectar.
Though the Emperors court, and the extraordinaire edifieng companie of Cornelius Agrippa might haue beene arguments of waight to haue arested vs a little longer there, yet Italy stil stuck as a great moat in my masters eie, he thought he had trauelled no farther tha Wales til he had tooke suruey of that Countrie which was such a curious moulder of wits.
Though the Emperor's court and the extraordinary company of Cornelius Agrippa might have been strong reasons to keep us there a bit longer, Italy still loomed large in my master's mind. He felt he hadn't traveled any farther than Wales until he had explored that country, which was such a fascinating place for intellects.
To cut off blinde ambages by the high way side, we made a long stride & got to Venice in short time, where hauing scarce lookt about vs, a precious supernaturall pandor, apparelled in all points like a gentleman, and hauing halfe a dosen seuerall languages in his purse, entertained vs in our owne tongue verie paraphrastically and eloquently, and maugre all other pretended acquaintance, would haue vs in a violent kinde of curtesie to be the guests of his appointment. His name was Petro de campo Frego, a notable practitioner in the pollicy of baudrie. The place whether he brought vs, was a pernicious curtizans house named Tabitha the Temptresses, a wench that could set as ciuill a face on it, as chastities first martyr Lucrecia. What will you conceit to bee in anie Saintes house that was there to seeke? Bookes, pictures, beades, crucifixes, why there was a haberdashers shop of them in euerie chamber. I warrant you should not see one set of her neckercher peruerted or turned awrie, not a piece of a haire displast. On her beddes there was not a wrinkle of anie wallowing to be founde, her pillowes bare out as smooth as a groning wiues belly, & yet she was a Turke and an infidell, and had more dooinges than all her neighbours besides. Us for our money they vsed lyke Emperours, I was master as you hearde before, and my master the Earle was but as my chiefe man whome I made my companion. So it happened (as iniquitie will out at one time or other) that she perceiuing my expence had no more ventes than it should haue, fell in with my supposed semant my man, and gaue him halfe a promise of marriage, if he woulde helpe to make me away, that she and he might inioy the iewels and wealth that I had.
To avoid unnecessary distractions on the way, we took a big step and quickly arrived in Venice. As soon as we looked around, a fancy supernatural character, dressed perfectly like a gentleman and fluent in half a dozen languages, welcomed us in our own language in a very elaborate and eloquent manner. Despite all his pretended familiarity, he insisted, quite insistently, that we should be his guests. His name was Petro de campo Frego, a well-known player in the scheme of seduction. The place he took us to was a notorious brothel named Tabitha the Temptress, a woman who could put on a face as proper as the first martyr of chastity, Lucrecia. What do you think you’d find in any saint’s house that was looking for something? Books, pictures, beads, crucifixes? There was a shop of such items in every room. I assure you, not a single neckerchief was out of place, nor a strand of hair out of order. On her beds, there was not a single wrinkle from tossing and turning; her pillows were as smooth as a pregnant woman's belly, and yet she was a Turk and an infidel, busier than all her neighbors combined. They treated us like emperors for our money; I was the master, as you heard before, and my master the Earl was just my chief companion. So it happened (as wickedness often does) that she noticed my spending wasn’t yielding the returns she hoped for; she conspired with my supposed servant and made him half a promise of marriage if he would help her get rid of me, so she and he could enjoy the jewels and wealth I had.
The indifficultie of the condition thus she explaind vnto him, her house stood vpon vaults, which in two hundred yeeres together were neuer searcht, who came into her house none tooke notice of, his fellow seruants that knewe of his masters abode there, should be all dispatcht by him as from his master, into sundrie partes of the citie about busines, and when they returned, answere should bee made that hee lay not there anie more, but had remoued to Padua since their departure, & thether they must follow him. Now (quoth she) if you be disposed to make him awaie in their absence, you shall haue my house at command. Stab, poison, or shoote him through with a pistol all is one, into the vault he shall be throwen when the deede is done. On my bare honestie it was a craftie queane, for she had enacted with her selfe if he had bin my legitimate seruant, as he was one that serued and supplied my necessities, when hee had murthered me, to haue accused him of the murther, and made all that I had hers (as I carryed all my masters wealth, monie, iewels, rings, or bils of exchaunge continually about me.) He verie subtilly consented to her stratageme at the first motion, kill me he woulde, that heauens could not withstand, and a pistoll was the predestinate engin which must deliuer the parting blow. God wot I was a rawe young squier, and my master dealt iudasly with me, for he tolde mee but euerie thing that she and he agreed of. Wherfore I could not possibly preuent it, but as a man woulde saie auoide it. The execution daie aspired to his vtmost deuolution, into my chamber came my honourable attendant with his pistoll charged by his side verie suspitiously and sullenly, lady Tabitha and Petro de catnpo Frego her pandor followed him at the hard heeles. At theyr enterance I saluted them all verie familiarly and merily, and began to impart vnto them what disquiet dreames had disturbed me the last night I dreamd, quoth I, that my man Brunquell heere (for no better name got he of mee) came into my chamber with a pistoll charged vnder his arme to kill me, and that hee was suborned by you mistres Tabitha, and my verie good friend here Petro de campo Frego. God send it tourne to good, for it hath afrighted mee aboue measure. As they were readie to enter into a colourable common place of the deceitful friuolousnes of dreames, my trustie seruant Brunquell stoode quiuering and quaking euerie ioynt of him, and (as it was before compacted between vs) let his pistoll drop from him on the sodain, wherwith I started out of my bed, and drew my rapier and cride murther, murther, which made good wife Tabitha readie to bepisse her.
The difficulty of the situation, she explained to him, was that her house rested on vaults that hadn’t been searched in over two hundred years. No one took notice of who came into her house, and his fellow servants, who knew where his master was staying, were all sent off by him to various parts of the city on errands. When they returned, they would be told that he was no longer there but had moved to Padua since their departure, and they would have to follow him there. Now, she said, if you’re willing to get rid of him while they're gone, my house is at your service. Stab him, poison him, or shoot him with a pistol—it all works for me, and once the deed is done, he can be thrown into the vault. Honestly, she was quite crafty, because she had made a plan that if he had been my legitimate servant, as he had been one to meet my needs, once he murdered me, she would accuse him of the murder and claim everything I had as hers (since I always carried around my master’s wealth, money, jewels, rings, or bills of exchange). He cautiously agreed to her scheme right from the start; he would kill me, and a pistol was the predetermined weapon that would deliver the final blow. Honestly, I was just a naïve young squire, and my master had been deceitful with me, as he only told me whatever she and he had agreed upon. Therefore, I couldn't possibly prevent it, except as one would say, to avoid it. The day of execution arrived, and to my utmost uncertainty, my honorable attendant entered my chamber suspiciously and gloomily with a loaded pistol at his side. Lady Tabitha and Petro de campo Frego, her associate, followed closely behind him. Upon their entrance, I greeted them all very cheerfully and happily, and began to share with them the disturbing dreams that had troubled me the previous night. I said that my man Brunquell (which was no better name I had for him) came into my room with a gun under his arm to kill me, and that he had been hired by you, Mistress Tabitha, and my very good friend, Petro de campo Frego. God, let it turn out for the best, as it has frightened me beyond measure. As they were about to engage in a superficial discussion about the deceptive triviality of dreams, my loyal servant Brunquell stood trembling, shaking in every joint, and as previously arranged between us, he suddenly let his pistol drop, which caused me to jump out of bed, draw my sword, and cry out ‘murder, murder,’ leaving good wife Tabitha ready to wet herself.
My seruant, or my master, which you will, I tooke roughly by the coller, and threatned to run him thorough incontinent if he confest not the truth. He as it were striken with remorse of conscience (God be with him, for he could counterfeit most daintily) downe on his knees, askt me forgiuenes, and impeached Tabitha and Petro de catnpo Frego as guiltie of subornation. I verie mildly and grauely gaue him audience, raile on them I did not after his tale was ended, but sayd I would trie what the lawe coulde doe. Conspiracie by the custome of their countrie was a capitall offence, and what custome or iustice might affoord they should be all sure to feele. I could (quoth I) acquite my selfe otherwise, but it is not for a straunger to bee his owne caruer in reuenge. Not a worde more with Tabitha but die she would before God or the deuill would haue her, she sounded and reuiued, and then sounded againe, and after shee reuiued again sighed heauily, spoke faintly and pittifully, yea and so pittifully, as if a man had not knowen the prankes of harlots before, he would haue melted in comiseration. Tears, sighs, and dolefull tuned wordes could not make anie forcible claime to my stonie eares, it was the glistering crownes that I hungered and thirsted after, and with them for all her mock holyday iestures she was faine to come off, before I woulde condiscend to anie bargaine of silence. So it fortuned (fie vpon that vnfortunate word of Fortune) yt this whore, this quean, this curtizan, this common of ten thousand, so bribing me not to bewray her, had giuen me a great deale of counterfeit gold, which she had receiued of a coiner to make awaie a little before. Amongst the grosse summe of my briberie, I silly milkesop mistrusting no deceit, vnder an angell of light tooke what she gaue me, nere turnd it ouer, for which (O falsehood in faire shew) my master and I had like to haue bin turned ouer. Hee that is a knight arrant, exercised in the affaires of Ladies and Gentlewomen, hath more places to send mony to, than the diuell hath to send his spirites to. There was a delicate wench called Flauia Aemilia lodging in S. Markes streete at a Goldsmiths, which I would faine haue had to the grand test, to trie whether she were currant in alcumie or no. Aie me, shee was but a counterfeit slip, for she not only gaue me the slip, but had welnie made me a slipstring. To her I sent my gold to beg an hour of grace, ah gracelesse fornicatresse, my hostesse & she wer confederate, who hauing gotten but one piece of my ill golde into their kandes, deuised the meanes to make me immortall. I could drinke for anger till my head akt, to think how I was abused. Shall I shame the deuill and speake the truth, to prison was I sent as principall, and my master as accessarie, nor was it to a prison neither, but to the master of the mints house who though partly our iudge, and a most seuere vpright iustice in his own nature, extreamly seemed to condole our ignorant estate, and without all peraduenture a present redresse he had ministred, if certaine of our countrie men hearing an English earle was apprehended for coining, had not come to visite vs. An ill planet brought them thether, for at the first glance they knew the seruant of my secrecies to be the Earle of Surrey, and I (not worthie to be named I) an outcast of his cup or his pantofles. Thence, thence sprong the full period of our infelicitie. The master of the mint our whilome refresher and consolation, now tooke part against vs, he thought we had a mint in our head of mischieuous conspiracies against their state. Heauens bare witnes with vs it was not so, (Heauens wyll not always come to witnes when they are cald.)
My servant, or my master, whichever you prefer, I grabbed roughly by the collar and threatened to stab him on the spot if he didn’t confess the truth. Struck with guilt, he went down on his knees, asking for forgiveness, and accused Tabitha and Petro de catampo Frego of being guilty of suborning him. I listened to him patiently and didn’t insult them after he finished his story, but said I would see what the law could do. Conspiracy, according to their customs, was a serious crime, and whatever justice could offer, they would have to face. I could, I said, handle this in another way, but it’s not right for a stranger to take revenge by himself. Not a word more with Tabitha, but she insisted she’d rather die than let God or the devil have her; she fainted and revived, fainted again, and after reviving once more, sighed heavily, speaking weakly and pitifully. Honestly, if a man hadn’t known the tricks of harlots before, he might have felt sorry for her. Tears, sighs, and sorrowful words couldn’t convince my hardened ears; it was the shiny coins I was after, and for all her mock holy day gestures, she had to give in before I would agree to any deal of silence. So it happened (curse that unfortunate word “Fortune”) that this whore, this prostitute, this common woman, trying to bribe me into silence, had given me a lot of fake gold that she had received from a counterfeiter shortly before. Among the large sum of my bribe, I, that naïve fool, trusting no deception, took what she gave me without even checking it, for which (oh, the deceit of fair appearances) my master and I almost got caught. A true knight with experience in dealing with ladies and women has more places to send money to than the devil has spirits to send. There was a lovely girl named Flavia Aemilia staying at a goldsmith's on St. Mark's Street, whom I would have liked to test, to see if she was genuine in alchemy or not. Alas, she turned out to be fake; not only did she cheat me, but she almost strung me along. I sent my gold to her, begging for an hour of grace, oh shameless whore, my landlady and she were in cahoots, and having gotten just one piece of my bad gold into their hands, they hatched a plan to ruin me. I could drink out of anger until my head hurt, thinking about how I was tricked. Should I shame the devil and tell the truth? I was sent to prison as the main culprit, and my master as an accomplice, and it wasn’t just any prison but the master of the mint’s house, who, though partly our judge and a very stern and upright person in his own right, seemed to sympathize with our ignorance and might have provided immediate relief, if some of our countrymen hadn’t arrived upon hearing that an English earl was arrested for counterfeiting. Bad luck brought them there, because at first glance, they recognized my servant, the Earl of Surrey, and I (not even worthy to be mentioned) was just a castoff. From there, our misfortune reached its peak. The master of the mint, who had once been our supporter and comforter, now turned against us. He thought we had a scheme in mind of mischievous conspiracies against their state. Heaven bear witness it was not so (Heaven doesn't always come to testify when called).
To a straiter ward were we comitted: that which we haue imputatiuely transgressed must beaunswered. O the heathen heigh passe, and the intrinsecall legerdemain of our special approued good pandor Petro de Campo Frego. Hee although he dipt in the same dish with vs euerie daie, seeming to labor our cause verie importunatly, and had interpreted for vs to the state from y beginning, yet was one of those trecherous brother Trulies, and abused vs most darkly. He interpreted to vs with a pestilence, for whereas we stood obstinatly vpon it, we were wrongfully deteined, and that it was naught but a malicious practise of sinfull Tabitha our late hostesse, he by a fine conny-catching corrupt translation, made vs plainely to confesse, and crie Miserere, ere we had need of our neckverse.
We were sent to a stricter ward: what we've done wrong must be answered for. Oh, the treacherous heights we faced, and the sneaky tricks of our so-called good friend Petro de Campo Frego. Even though he shared the same struggles with us every day, pretending to fight for our cause very passionately, and had interpreted things for us to the state from the beginning, he was one of those treacherous brothers Trulies, who betrayed us most deceitfully. He interpreted for us with ill intent, because while we insisted that we were wrongfully detained, and it was nothing but a malicious scheme by our former hostess Tabitha, he, through a clever and corrupt translation, forced us to admit our guilt and cry Miserere before we even needed to worry about our fate.
Detestable, detestable, that the flesh and the deuill shoulde deale by their factors. He stand to it, there is not a pandor but hath vowed paganisme. The deuill himselfe is not such a deuill as he, so be he performe his function aright. He must haue the backe of an asse, the snout of an elephant, the wit of a foxe, and the teeth of a wolfe, he must faune like a spaniell, crouch like a Jew, Here like a sheepbiter. If he be halfe a puritan, and haue scripture continually in his mouth, he speeds the better. I can tell you it is a trade of great promotion, and let none euer thinke to mount by seruice in forain courts, or creep neere to some magnifique Lords, if they be not seene in this science. O it is the art of arts, and ten thousand times goes beyond the intelligencer. None but a staid graue ciuill man is capable of it, he must haue exquisite courtship in him or else he is not old who, he wants the best point in his tables.
Detestable, detestable, that the flesh and the devil should deal through their agents. He insists that there isn't a single agent who hasn't committed to paganism. The devil himself isn’t as much of a devil as he is, as long as he performs his role correctly. He needs the back of a donkey, the snout of an elephant, the cunning of a fox, and the teeth of a wolf; he must flatter like a spaniel, crouch like a Jew, and act like a sly parasite. If he’s even half a puritan and has scripture constantly on his lips, he has a better chance of succeeding. I can tell you this is a career with great advancement opportunities, and let no one ever think they can rise by serving in foreign courts or getting close to some grand lords without being skilled in this art. Oh, it is the art of arts, and it surpasses intelligence by ten thousand times. Only a steady, serious, civil person is suited for it; he must possess exceptional charm or else he is not truly experienced, as he lacks the most essential skill in his repertoire.
God be mercifull to our pandor (and that were for God to worke a miracle) he was seene in all the seuen liberall deadly sciences, not a sinne but he was as absolute in as sathan himselfe. Sathan could neuer haue supplanted vs so as hee did. I may saie to you he planted in vs the first Italionate wit that we had. During the time we lay close and toke phisick in this castle of contemplation, there was a Magnificos wife of good calling sent in to beare vs companie. Her husbands name was Castaldo, she hight Diamante, the cause of her committing was an vngrounded ielous suspition which her doating husbande had conceiued of her chastitie. One Isaac Medicus a bergomast was the man hee chose to make him a monster, who beeing a courtier and repairing to his house very often, neither for loue of him nor his wife, but onely with a drift to borrowe monie of a pawne of waxe and parchment, when he sawe his expectation deluded, and that Castaldo was too charie for him to close with, he priuily with purpose of reuenge, gaue out amongest his copesmates, that hee resorted to Castaldos house for no other end but to cuckolde him, & doubtfully he talkt that he had and he had not obtained his sute. Rings which he borrowed of a light curtizan that he vsed to, hee woulde faine to bee taken from her fingers, and in summe, so handled the matter, that Castaldo exclaimd, Out whore, strumpet, sixe penny hackster, away with her to prison.
God be merciful to our fool (and that would be a miracle) he was skilled in all seven liberal arts, and not a sin that he wasn’t as good at as Satan himself. Satan could never have outsmarted us like he did. I can tell you he planted in us the first touch of Italian charm that we had. While we were holed up and taking our medicine in this castle of contemplation, a well-respected lady, the wife of a nobleman, was sent in to keep us company. Her husband's name was Castaldo and she was called Diamante; the reason she was sent was due to an unfounded jealousy that her foolish husband had about her fidelity. A man named Isaac Medicus, a local magistrate, was the one he chose to make a fool of himself. He was a courtier who often visited their house, not out of friendship, but solely to borrow money, which he aimed to get from a pawn of wax and parchment. When he saw he wouldn't get what he wanted and that Castaldo was too stingy to cooperate, he secretly sought revenge by spreading rumors among his friends that he visited Castaldo’s home for no other reason but to cheat on him, and he spoke ambiguously about whether or not he had succeeded. He borrowed rings from a loose woman he was involved with, hoping to take them from her fingers, and in short, he twisted the situation so much that Castaldo shouted, “Get out, whore, strumpet, low-class hustler, take her to prison!”
As glad were we almost as if they had giuen vs libertie, that fortune lent vs such a sweet puefellow. A pretie round faced wench was it, with blacke cie browes, a high forehead, a litle mouth, and a sharpe nose, as fat and plum euerie part of her as a plouer, a skin as slike and soft as the backe of a swan, it doth me good when I remember her. Like a birde she tript on the ground, and bare out her belly as maiesticall as an Estrich. With a licorous rouling eie fixt percing on the earth, & sometimes scornfully darted on the tone side, she figured foorth a high discontented disdain, much like a prince puffing and storming at the treason of some mightie subiect fled lately out of his power. Her verie countenance repiningly wrathfull, and yet cleere and vnwrinkled, would haue confirmed the cleernes of her conscience to the austerest iudge in the world. If in any thing she were culpable, it was in being too melancholy chast, and shewing her selfe as couetous of her beautie as her husband was of his bags. Many are honest because they knowe not how to be dishonest: she thought there was no pleasure in stolne bread, because there was no pleasure in an olde mans bed. It is almost impossible that anie woman should be excellently wittie, and not make the vtmost pennie of her beautie. This age and this countrie of ours admits of some miraculous exceptions, but former times are my constant informers. Those that haue quicke motions of wit, haue quicke motions in euerie thing: yron onely needes many strokes, onely yron wits are not wonne without a long siege of intreatie. Golde easily bends, the most ingenious mindes are easiest moued, Ingenium nobis molle Thalia dedit, saith Psapho to Phao. Who hath no mercifull milde mistres, I will maintaine, hath no wittie but a clownish dull flegmatike puppie to his mistres.
We were almost as happy as if we had been given our freedom, that luck brought us such a delightful companion. She was a pretty round-faced girl with dark eyebrows, a high forehead, a small mouth, and a sharp nose, as plump and soft as a bird, with skin as smooth and soft as the back of a swan. It makes me smile just remembering her. She hopped gracefully on the ground, holding her belly out majestically like an ostrich. With her seductive, rolling eyes fixed on the earth, and sometimes darting scornfully to the side, she expressed a high, dissatisfied disdain, much like a prince fuming and raging at the betrayal of a powerful subject who had recently fled his authority. Her very face, filled with resentment and anger, yet clear and unwrinkled, would have proven the purity of her conscience to the sternest judge in the world. If she were to be blamed for anything, it would be for being overly melancholic and protective of her beauty, much as her husband was about his money. Many people are honest because they simply don’t know how to be dishonest; she believed there was no joy in stolen bread because there was no joy in an old man's bed. It's almost impossible for any woman to be exceptionally witty without making the most of her beauty. In this age and country of ours, there are some miraculous exceptions, but past times are my reliable informants. Those who have quick wit are quick in everything: iron only needs many strikes, and only iron wits cannot be won without a long siege of persuasion. Gold bends easily; the most imaginative minds are the easiest to influence, as Thalia has given us a soft disposition, says Psapho to Phao. I will argue that anyone without a merciful, gentle mistress has nothing but a dull, sluggish fool for a partner.
This Magnificos wife was a good louing soule, that had mettall inough in her to make a good wit of, but being neuer remoued from vnder her mothers and her husbands wing, it was not moulded and fashioned as it ought. Causelesse distrust is able to driue deceite into a simple womans head. I durst pawne the credit of a page, which is worth ams ase at all times, that she was immaculate honest till she met with vs in prison. Marie what temptations shee had then when fire and flaxe were put together, conceit with your selues, but hold my master excusable.
This Magnifico's wife was a loving soul who had enough mettle in her to be clever, but since she was never away from her mother’s or her husband’s influence, she wasn’t shaped or developed as she could have been. Groundless distrust can easily lead a simple woman to believe in deceit. I would bet a servant's reputation, which is valuable at all times, that she was completely honest until she encountered us in prison. Imagine the temptations she faced when everything was at stake, but please excuse my master.
Alacke he was too vertuous to make her vicious, he stoode vpon religion and conscience, what a hainous thing it was to subuert Gods ordinance. This was all the iniurie he woulde offer her, sometimes he woulde imagine her in a melancholic humour to be his Geraldine, and court her in tearmes correspondent, nay he would sweare shee was his Geraldine, & take her white hand and wipe his eyes with it, as though the very touch of her might stanch his anguish. Now would he kneele and kisse the ground as holy grounde which she vouchsafed to blesse from barrennesse by her steps. Who would haue learned to write an excellent passion, might have bin a perfect tragicke poet, had he but attended halfe the extremitie of his lament. Passion vpon passion would throng one on anothers necke, he would praise her beyond the moone and starres, and that so sweetly & rauishingly, as I perswade myself he was more in loue with his owne curious forming fancie than her face, and truth it is, many become passionate louers, only to win praise to theyr wits.
Alas, he was too virtuous to lead her astray; he upheld his beliefs and conscience, understanding how terrible it was to go against God's laws. This was the only harm he would inflict upon her. Sometimes he would picture her in a melancholy mood as his Geraldine and woo her with words that matched. In fact, he would swear she was his Geraldine, taking her delicate hand to wipe his tears, as if her touch could soothe his pain. Then he would kneel and kiss the ground, treating it as sacred because she blessed it with her footsteps. Anyone who wanted to learn how to express deep emotion could have become a great tragic poet by merely observing his extreme sorrow. One feeling would pile on top of another; he would praise her endlessly, beyond the moon and stars, so sweetly and captivatingly that I am convinced he loved his own elaborate fantasies more than her actual beauty. The truth is, many people become passionate lovers just to gain admiration for their wit.

He praised, he praied, hee desired and besought her to pittie him that perisht for her. From this his intranced mistaking extasie could no man remoue him. Who loueth resolutely, will include euerie thing vnder the name of his loue. From prose he would leape into verse, and with these or such lyke rimes assault her.
He praised her, begged her, and pleaded with her to have pity on him as he was dying for her. No one could pull him away from this entranced misunderstanding. Someone who loves deeply includes everything under the name of their love. He would jump from prose into poetry, using these or similar rhymes to woo her.
If I must die, O let me choose my death, Sucke out my soule with kisses cruell maide, In thy breasts christall bals enbalme my breath, Dole it all out in sighs when I am laid. Thy lips on mine like cupping glasses claspe, Let our tongs meete and siriue as they would sting, Crush out my winde with one strait girting graspe, Stabs on my heart keepe time whitest thou dost sing. Thy eies like searingyrons burne out mine, In thy faire tresses stifle me outright, Like Circes change me to a loathsome swine, So I may liue for euer in thy sight Into heauens ioyes can none prof oundly see, Except that first they meditate on thee.
If I must die, oh let me choose my death, Suck my soul out with your cruel kisses, In your breasts, let my breath be preserved like crystal balm, Dole it all out in sighs when I’m laid to rest. Your lips on mine like cupping glasses clasp, Let our tongues meet and serve like they would sting, Crush out my breath with one tight grip, Stabs to my heart keep time while you sing. Your eyes, like burning irons, sear out mine, In your beautiful hair, suffocate me completely, Like Circe, turn me into a loathsome pig, So I may live forever in your sight. No one can truly see the joys of heaven, Unless they first contemplate you.
Sadly and verily, if my master said true, I should if I were a wench make many men quickly immortall. What ist, what ist for a maide fayre and freshe to spend a little lip salue on a hungrie louer. My master beate the bush and kept a coile and a pratling, but I caught the birde, simplicitie and plainnesse shall carrie it awaie in another world. God wot he was Petro Desperato, when I stepping to hir with a dunstable tale made vp my market A holy requiem to their soules that thinke to wooe women with riddles. I had some cunning plot you must suppose, to bring this about Her husband had abused her, and it was verie necessarie she shoulde be reuenged. Seldome doe they proue patient martyrs who are punisht vniustly. One way or other they wil cry quittance whatsoeuer it cost them. No other apte meanes had this poore shee captiued Cicely, to worke her hoddy peake husbande a proportionable plague to his ielousie, but to giue his head his ful loding of infamie. She thought she would make him complaine for some thing, that now was so hard bound with an hereticall opinion. Howe I dealt with her, gesse gentle reader, Sub audi that I was in prison, and she was my Jailor.
Sadly and truly, if my master spoke correctly, I should make many men immortal quickly if I were a woman. What is it for a pretty and fresh maiden to spend a little sweet talk on a hungry lover? My master beat around the bush and kept talking, but I caught the bird; simplicity and straightforwardness will carry it away in another world. God knows he was Petro Desperato when I approached her with a foolish story to strike a deal. A holy requiem for the souls who think they can woo women with riddles. I had some clever plan to make this happen, you must believe, since her husband had mistreated her, and it was necessary for her to take revenge. Seldom do they prove to be patient martyrs when punished unjustly. One way or another, they will seek retribution, no matter the cost. This poor woman, Cicely, had no other suitable means to inflict a fitting punishment on her jealous husband but to give him a full load of infamy. She thought she would make him complain about something that was now so tightly bound with a heretical opinion. How I dealt with her, guess, gentle reader, Sub audi that I was in prison, and she was my jailer.
Meanes there was made after a moneths or two durance by M. Iohn Russell, a gentleman of king Henrie the eights chamber, who then lay lieger at Venice for England, that our cause should be fauorably heard. At that time was Monsieur Petro Aretino searcher and chiefe Inquisiter for the colledge of curtizans. Diuerse and sundrie wayes was this Aretine beholding to the king of England, especially for by this foresaid M. Russell a little before he had sent him a pension of foure hundreth crownes yerely during his life. Very forcibly was hee dealt withall, to straine the vtmost of his credit for our deliuerie. Nothing at his handes wee sought, but that the curtizan might be more narrowly sifted and examined. Such and so extraordinarie was his care and industrie heerein, that within few dayes after mistres Tabitha and her pandor cride Peccaui confiteor, and we were presently discharched, they for example sake executed. Most honorably after our enlargement of the state were we vsed, and had sufficient recompence for all our troubles and wrongs.
Meanes was made after a month or two in custody by Mr. John Russell, a gentleman in King Henry the Eighth's court, who was then staying at Venice for England, that our case should be heard favorably. At that time, Monsieur Petro Aretino was the chief investigator for the college of courtesans. In various ways, this Aretine was indebted to the King of England, especially since Mr. Russell had recently sent him a yearly pension of four hundred crowns for life. He made a strong effort to use all his influence for our release. All we asked from him was for the courtesan to be more closely examined. His care and diligence in this matter were so extraordinary that within a few days, Mistress Tabitha and her procurer cried Peccavi confiteor, and we were immediately released, while they were executed as an example. After our release, we were treated with utmost honor and received adequate compensation for all our troubles and wrongs.
Before I goe anie further, let me speake a word or two of this Aretine. It was one of the wittiest knaues that euer God made. If out of so base a thing as inke there may be extracted a spirite, he writ with nought but the spirite of inke, and his stile was the spiritualtie of artes, and nothing else, where as all others of his age were but the lay temporaltie of inkhorne tearmes. For in deede they were meere temporizers, & no better. His penne was sharpe pointed like ponyard. No leafe he wrote on, but was like a burning glasse to sette on fire all his readers. With more then musket shot did he charge his quill, where he meant to inueigh. No one houre but he sent a whole legion of deuils into some heard of swine or other. If Martiall had ten muses (as he sayth of himselfe) when hee but tasted a cup of wine, he had ten score when he determined to tyranize. Nere a line of his but was able to make a man dronken with admiration. His sight pearst like lightning into the intrailes of al abuses. This I must needs saie, that most of his learning hee gotte by hearing the lectures at Florence. It is sufficient that learning he had, and a conceite exceeding all learning, to quintescence euerie thing which he hard. He was no timerous seruile flatterer of the commonwealth wherein he liued. His tongue and his inuention were foreborne, what they thought they would confidently vtter. Princes hee sparde not, that in the least point transgrest. His life he contemned in comparison of the libertie of speech. Whereas some dull braine maligners of his, accuse him of that treatise de tribus impostoribus Mundi, which was neuer contriued without a generall counsell of deuils, I am verily perswaded it was none of his, and of my minde are a number of the most iudiciall Italians. One reason is this, because it was published fortie yeeres after his death, and he neuer in all his life wrote anie thing in Latine. Certainly I haue heard that one of Machiuuels followers and disciples was the author of that booke, who to auoid discredite, filcht it forth vnder Aretines name, a great while after hee had sealed vp his eloquent spirit in the graue. Too much gall dyd that wormwood of Gibeline wits put in his inke, who ingraued that rubarbe Epitaph on this excellent Poets tombstone, Quite forsaken of all good Angels was he, and vtterly giuen ouer to an artlesse enuie. Foure vniuersities honored Aretine with these rich titles, Il flagello de principe Il veritiero, Il deuino, & Lvnico Aretino. The French king Frances the first, he kept in such awe, that to chaine his tongue, he sent him a huge chaine of golde, in the forme of tongues fashioned. Singularly hath hee commented of the humanity of Christ Besides, as Moses set forth his Genesis, so hath hee set forth his Genesis also, including the contents of the whole Bible. A notable treatise hath hee compiled, called Il sette Psalmi ponetentiarii. All the Thomasos haue cause to loue him, because he hath dilated so magnificently of the life of Saint Thomas. There is a good thing that he hath set forth La vita della virgine Maria, though it somewhat smell of superstition, with a number more, which here for tediousnesse I suppresse. If lasciuious he were, he may answere with Ouid, Vita verecunda est, musa iocosa mea est, My lyfe is chast though wanton be my verse. Tell mee who is most trauelled in histories, what good Poet is or euer was there, who hath not had a little spice of wantonnes in dayes? Euen Beza himselfe by your leaue. Aretine as long as the worlde liues shalt thou liue. Tully, Virgil, Ouid, Seneca, were neuer such ornaments to Italy as thou hast beene. I neuer thought of Italy more religiously than England til I heard of thee. Peace to thy Ghost, and yet mee thinkes so indefinite a spirite should haue no peace or intermission of paines, but be penning Ditties to the Archangels in another world. Puritans spue forth the venome of your dull inuentions. A Toade swelles with thicke troubled poison, you swell with poisonous perturbations, your mallice hath not a cleare dram of anie inspired disposition.
Before I go any further, let me say a word or two about this Aretine. He was one of the wittiest people God ever created. If you can draw spirit from something as basic as ink, he wrote with nothing but the spirit of ink, and his style was the essence of art, unlike all the others of his time who were just the mundane chatter of ink-splattered words. They were mere opportunists and nothing more. His pen was sharp like a dagger. Every page he wrote was like a magnifying glass that set fire to all his readers. He loaded his quill with more than just a whiff of intensity when he intended to critique. Not a single hour passed without him sending a whole legion of devils into some herd of pigs or another. If Martial claimed to have ten muses when he took a sip of wine, Aretine had hundreds when he decided to take a stand. Every line of his could intoxicate a person with admiration. His insight pierced like lightning into the guts of all abuses. I must say that most of his knowledge came from attending lectures in Florence. It's enough that he had learning and a wit that surpassed all knowledge, able to distill everything he heard. He was no cowardly, servile flatterer of the society he lived in. His tongue and his ideas were unleashed; whatever he thought, he confidently expressed. He spared no princes who transgressed even slightly. He valued his life only in comparison to his freedom of speech. While some dull-minded critics accuse him of the treatise de tribus impostoribus Mundi, which could never have been composed without a general council of devils, I genuinely believe it wasn't his work, and many of the most discerning Italians agree with me. One reason is that it was published forty years after his death, and he never wrote anything in Latin in his entire life. I've certainly heard that one of Machiavelli's followers and disciples authored that book, who, to avoid discredit, released it under Aretine's name long after he had sealed his eloquent spirit in the grave. That bitter enmity from the Ghibeline wits poisoned his ink, leading to that harsh epitaph engraved on this great poet's tombstone: "Completely forsaken by all good Angels, he was utterly given over to senseless envy." Four universities honored Aretine with rich titles: Il flagello de principe, Il veritiero, Il deuino, & L'unico Aretino. The French king Francis I kept him in such awe that, to silence him, he sent him a huge chain of gold shaped like tongues. Uniquely, he commented on the humanity of Christ. Just as Moses presented his Genesis, he also presented his own Genesis, covering the entire Bible. He compiled a remarkable treatise called Il sette Psalmi ponetentiarii. All the Thomasos have reason to love him because he wrote so magnificently about the life of Saint Thomas. He also presented La vita della virgine Maria, although it leans a bit toward superstition, along with many others I suppress here for brevity. If he were lascivious, he could respond with Ovid, Vita verecunda est, musa iocosa mea est, "My life is chaste though my verse is playful." Tell me, who is the most seasoned in histories—what good poet ever was there who hasn't had a touch of playfulness in their day? Even Beza himself, if you allow it. Aretine, as long as the world exists, you will live on. Tully, Virgil, Ovid, Seneca were never such adornments to Italy as you have been. I never thought of Italy more reverently than England until I heard about you. Rest in peace, yet I feel such an indefinable spirit should have no peace or break from suffering, but rather be composing verses for the Archangels in another world. Puritans spew forth the poison of your dull inventions. A toad swells with thick, troubled poison, and you swell with poisonous turmoil; your malice has not even a hint of any inspired quality.
My principall subiect pluckes me by the elbowe, Diamante Castaldos the magnificos wife, after my enlargment proued to bee with childe, at which instant there grewe an vnsatiable famine in Venice, wherein, whether it were for meere niggardise, or that Castaldo still eate out his heart with iealousie, Saint Anne be our recorde, he turnde vp the heeles verie deuoutly. To master Aretine after this, once more verie dutifully I appeald, requested him of fauour, acknowledged former gratuities, hee made no more humming or haulting, but in despite of her husbandes kinsfolkes, gaue her her Nunc dimittis, and so establisht her free of my companie.
My main topic is pulling me by the elbow, Diamante Castaldo, the magnificent's wife, after my expansion proved she was pregnant. At that moment, an insatiable famine hit Venice, during which, whether it was due to sheer stinginess or because Castaldo was still consumed by jealousy, I swear, he very devoutly kicked the bucket. To master Aretine after this, once again very respectfully, I appealed to him, asking for a favor and acknowledging previous kindnesses. He didn’t hesitate or stall but, despite her husband’s relatives, granted her her Nunc dimittis and thus set her free from my company.
Beeing out, and fully possest of her husbandes goods, she inuested mee in the state of a Monarch. Because the time of childbirth drew nigh, and shee coulde not remaine in Venice but discredited, she decreed to trauell whether so euer I woulde conduct her. To see Italy throughout was my proposed scope, and that waie if shee woulde trauell, haue with her, I had wherewithall to relieue her.
Being out and completely in control of her husband's wealth, she appointed me to the position of a monarch. As the time for childbirth approached, and since she could not stay in Venice without losing her reputation, she decided to travel wherever I would take her. My plan was to explore all of Italy, and if she wanted to travel that way, I had the means to support her.
From my master by her fulhand prouokement I parted without leaue, the state of an Earle hee had thrust vppon me before, and nowe I woulde not bate him an inch of it. Through all the Cities past I by no other name but the yong Earle of Surrey, my pompe, my appareil, traine, and expence, was nothing inferiour to his, my lookes were as loftie, my wordes as magnificall. Memorandum, that Florence beeing the principall scope of my masters course, missing mee, he iourneied thether without interruption. By the waie as he went, he heard of another Earle of Surrey besides himselfe, which caused him make more hast to fetch me in, whom he little dreamed of, had such art in my budget, to separate the shadowe from the bodie.
I left my master without permission due to her strong influence, taking on the title of Earl that he had previously thrust upon me, and I wouldn’t give up any part of it. As I traveled through all the cities, I was known as the young Earl of Surrey, and my style, my attire, my entourage, and my expenses were nothing less than his. I held my head high, and my words were grand. Note that Florence was my master’s main goal, and after missing me, he journeyed there without delay. On his way, he heard of another Earl of Surrey besides himself, which made him hurry to bring me back, unaware that I had the skill to separate the shadow from the body.
Ouertake me at Florence he did, where sitting in my pontificalibus with my curtizan at supper, lyke Anthonie and Cleopatra, when they quafte standing bowles of wine spiced with pearle together, he stole in ere we sent for him, and bad much good it vs, and askt vs whether we wanted anie guests. If he had askt me whether I would haue hanged my selfe, his question had beene more acceptable. He that had then vngartered mee, might haue pluckt out my heart at my hams.
He caught up with me in Florence while I was sitting in my fancy clothes with my girlfriend at dinner, like Antony and Cleopatra when they were drinking spiced wine from standing bowls together. He walked in before we invited him and wished us well, asking if we needed any guests. If he had asked me if I wanted to hang myself, that question would have been more welcome. The person who had just undressed me could have ripped my heart out from my thighs.
My soule which was made to soare vpward, now sought for passage downward, my blood as the blushing Sabine maids surprized on the sodain by the souldiers of Romulus, ran to the noblest of bloud amongest them for succour, that were in no lesse (if not greater daunger) so dyd it runne for refuge to the noblest of his bloude about my heart assembled that stood in more need it selfe of comfort and refuge. A trembling earthquake or shaking feauer assailed either of vs, and I thinke vnfainedly, if he seeing our faint heart agonie, had not soone cheered and refreshed vs, the dogs had gone together by the eares vnder the table for our feare-dropped lims.
My soul, which was meant to soar upward, now sought a way down. My blood, like the blushing Sabine women suddenly ambushed by Romulus's soldiers, rushed to the noblest blood among them for help, which was no less (if not more) in danger. It ran for refuge to the noblest blood around my heart that stood in greater need of comfort and protection. A trembling earthquake or shaking fever hit us both, and honestly, if he hadn’t quickly cheered and refreshed us upon seeing our weak, anxious state, we would have been in big trouble, with our fear-filled bodies collapsing beneath the table.
In stead of menacing or afrighting me with his swoord, or his frounes for my superlatiue presumption, hee burst out into a laughter aboue Ela, to thinke how brauely napping hee had tooke vs, and how notablie wee were dampt & stroke dead in the neast, with the vnexpected view of his presence.
Instead of threatening or scaring me with his sword, or his frowns because of my extreme arrogance, he burst out laughing, thinking about how cleverly he had caught us off guard and how notably we were shocked and paralyzed in our nest by the unexpected sight of him.
Ah quoth he, my noble Lord, (after his tongue had borrowed a little leaue of his laughter) is it my lucke to visite you thus vnlookt for, I am sure you wil bid me welcome, if it be but for the names sake. It is a wonder to see two English Earles of one house, at one time together in Italy. I hearing him so pleasant, began to gather vp my spirits, and replide as boldly as I durst Sir, you are welcome, your name which I haue borrowed I haue not abused. Some large summes of money this my sweete mistres Diamante hath made me master of, which I knew not how better to imploy for the honour of my country, than by spending it munificently vnder your name. No Englishman would I haue renowmed for bounty, magnificence and curtesie but you, vnder your colours all my meritorious workes I was desirous to shroud. Deeme it no insolence to adde increase to your fame. Had I basely and beggerly, wanting abilitie to support anie parte of your roialtie, vndertooke the estimation of this high calling, your alledgement of iniury had ben the greater, and my defence lesse authorized. It will be thought but a policie of yours thus to send one before you, who being a follower of yours, shall keepe and vphold the estate and port of an Earle. I haue knowen many Earles my selfe that in their owne persons would go verie plaine, but delighted to haue one that belonged to them (being loden with iewels, apparelled in cloth of golde and all the rich imbroderie that might bee) to stand bare headed vnto him, arguing thus much, that if y greatest men went not more sumptuous, how more great than the greatest was he that could command one going so sumptuous. A noble mans glorie appeareth in nothing so much as in the pompe of his attendants. What is the glorie of the Sunne, but that the moone and so many millions of starres borrow their light from him? If you can reprehend me of anie one illiberall licentious action I haue disparaged your name with, heape shame on me prodigally, I beg no pardon or pittie. Non veniunt in idem pudor & amor, hee was loth to detract from one that he loued so. Beholding with his eies that I dipt not the wings of his honor, but rather increast them with additions of expence, he intreated me as if I had bin an Embassadour, he gaue me his hand and swore he had no more hearts but one, and I should haue halfe of it, in that I so inhanced his obscured reputation. One thing, quoth he, my sweete Jacke I will intreate thee (it shalbe but one) that though I am wel pleased thou shouldest be the ape of my birthright, (as what noble man hath not his ape & his foole) yet that thou be an ape without a clog, not carrie thy curtizan with thee. I tolde him that a king could do nothing without his treasury, this curtizan was my purs-bearer, my countenance and supporter. My earldome I would sooner resigne than part with such a speciall benefactresse. Resigne it I will how euer, since I am thus challenged of stolne goods by the true owner: Lo, into my former state I returne againe, poore Iack Wilton and your seruant am I, as I was at the beginning, and so will I perseuer to my liues ending.
Ah, he said, my noble Lord, (after he had paused his laughter for a moment) is it my luck to visit you unexpectedly? I’m sure you’ll welcome me, even if just for the sake of the name. It’s a wonder to see two English earls from the same house together in Italy. Hearing him so cheerful, I gathered my courage and replied as boldly as I could, “Sir, you are welcome. I promise I haven’t misused the name I've borrowed from you. My sweet mistress Diamante has entrusted me with some large sums of money, which I couldn’t think of a better way to use for my country’s honor than to spend it generously in your name. No other Englishman would I want to honor for generosity, magnificence, and courtesy but you; under your name, I want my worthy deeds to be recognized. Do not take it as arrogance for me to add to your fame. If I had acted lowly and poorly, without the means to support any part of your royalty, my taking on this grand role would have warranted more offense and less justification for my defense. It might seem like a tactic of yours to send someone ahead who, as your follower, will maintain the status and appearance of an earl. I’ve known many earls who dressed plainly themselves but enjoyed having someone in their service, adorned in jewels and rich fabrics, standing before them, arguing that if the greatest men do not dress more extravagantly, how much greater is the one who can command someone to do so? A nobleman’s glory shines most in the splendor of his attendants. What is the glory of the sun but that the moon and countless stars borrow their light from it? If you can accuse me of any ungracious action that has sullied your name, shower shame upon me abundantly; I seek neither pardon nor pity. Non veniunt in idem pudor & amore; he was reluctant to speak ill of someone he cared for. Seeing with his own eyes that I did not diminish his honor, but rather enhanced it with my spending, he treated me as if I were an ambassador, took my hand, and swore that he had only one heart, and I would have half of it, since I had elevated his previously obscured reputation. One thing, my sweet Jack, I will ask of you (just one), though I’m pleased you should play the part of my birthright (as what nobleman doesn’t have his fool), make sure you be a fool without a burden; don’t bring your mistress with you. I told him that a king can do nothing without his treasury; this mistress was my support, my companion, and my strength. I would rather give up my earldom than part with such a crucial benefactor. I will resign it, however, since I’m being accused of stolen goods by the true owner: Look, I return to my former state, poor Jack Wilton, and your servant I am, as I was at the beginning, and so I will remain until the end of my life.
That theame was quickly cut off, and other talke entered in place, of what I haue forgot, but talke it was, and talke let it be, and talke it shall be, for I do not meane here to remember it. We supt, we got to bed, we rose in the morning, on my master I waited, and the first thing he did after he was vp, he went and visited the house where his Geraldine was borne, at sight wherof he was so impassioned, that in the open street but for me, he would haue made an oration in praise of it. Into it we were conducted, and shewed each seueral roome therto appertaining. O but when he came to the chamber where his Geraldines cleere Sunbeams first thrust themselues into this cloude of flesh, and acquainted mortalitie with the puritie of Angels, then did his mouth ouerflowe with magnificats, his tongue thrust the starres out of heauen, and eclipsed the Sun and Moone with comparisons, Geraldine was the soule of heauen, sole daughter and heire to primus motor. The alcumy of his eloquence, out of the incomprehensible drossie matter of clouds and aire, distilled no more quintescence than woulde make his Geraldine compleat faire.
That topic was quickly dropped, and other conversations took its place, which I've forgotten, but it was definitely talk, and let's call it talk, since I don't intend to remember it here. We had dinner, went to bed, and got up in the morning. I served my master, and the first thing he did after he got up was visit the house where his Geraldine was born. Seeing it so moved him that if it hadn't been for me, he would have given a speech in its honor right there in the street. We were taken inside and shown each room belonging to it. Oh, but when he reached the chamber where his Geraldine's bright sunlight first streamed into this cloud of flesh, introducing mortality to the purity of angels, his mouth overflowed with praises, his tongue outshone the stars, and eclipsed the Sun and Moon with comparisons. Geraldine was the soul of heaven, the only daughter and heir to primus motor. The magic of his eloquence, out of the incomprehensible, worthless stuff of clouds and air, distilled no more essence than what would make his Geraldine perfectly beautiful.
In praise of the chamber that was so illuminatiuely honoured with her radiant conception, he penned this sonet:
In praise of the room that was so brightly honored by her radiant presence, he wrote this sonnet:
Faire rootne the presence of sweet beauties pride, The place the Sunne vpon the earth did hold, When Phaton his chariot did misguide, The towre where loue raind downe himselfe in gold. Prostrate as holy groutid He worship thee, Our Ladies chappell henceforth be thou nanid. Heere first loues Queene put on mortalitie, And with her beautie all the world inflamed. Heatfns chambers harboring firie cherubines, Are not with thee in glorie to compare, Lightning it is not light which in thee shines, None enter thee but straight entranced are. O if Elizium be aboue the ground, Then here it is where nought but ioy is found.
At the root of sweet beauty's pride, The place the sun holds on earth, When Phaethon mismanaged his chariot, The tower where love rained down in gold. Prostrate as holy ground, I worship you, Our Lady’s chapel, may you forever be named. Here, the queen of love first took on mortality, And with her beauty, set the world on fire. Heaven’s chambers, hosting fiery cherubs, Can’t compare to your glory, It’s not just light that shines in you, No one enters you without being entranced. Oh, if Elysium is above the ground, Then this is the place where only joy is found.
Many other Poems and Epigrams in that chambers patient alablaster inclosure (which her melting eies long sithence had softned) were curiously ingraued. Diamondes thought themselues Dii mundi, if they might but carue hir name on the naked glasse. With them on it did he anatomize these bodie-wanting mots, Dulce puella malum est. Quod fugit ipse sequor. Amor est teni causa sequendi. O infolix ego. Cur vidi, curperii. Non patienter amo. Tantum patiatur amari. After the viewe of these veneriall monumentes, he published a proude challenge in the Duke of Florence court agaynst all commers, (whether Christians, Turkes, Canibals, Jewes, or Saracens), in defence of his Geraldines beautie. More mildly was it accepted, in that she whom he defended, was a towne borne child of that Citie, or else the pride of the Italian would haue preuented him ere he should haue come to performe it. The Duke of Florence neuerthelesse sent for him, and demanded him of his estate, and the reason that drew him thereto, which when hee was aduertised of to the full, he granted all Countries whatsoeuer, as wel enemies and outlawes, as friendes and confederates, free accesse and regresse into his dominions vnmolested, vntill that insolent triall were ended.
Many other poems and epigrams in that patient alabaster enclosure (which her melting eyes had softened long ago) were intricately engraved. Diamonds imagined themselves as Dii mundi, just to carve her name on the bare glass. With them, he dissected these body-absent phrases: Dulce puella malum est. Quod fugit ipse sequor. Amor est teni causa sequendi. O infolix ego. Cur vidi, cur perii. Non patienter amo. Tantum patiatur amari. After seeing these romantic monuments, he boldly issued a challenge in the Duke of Florence's court against anyone who dared, whether Christians, Turks, Cannibals, Jews, or Saracens, in defense of his Geraldine's beauty. It was accepted more mildly because she, whom he defended, was a local child of that city, or else the Italian pride would have stopped him before he could even try. However, the Duke of Florence called for him and inquired about his situation and the reason that led him there. Once fully informed, he granted all countries, both enemies and outlaws, as well as friends and allies, free entry and exit into his territories without disturbance until that insolent trial was over.
The right honourable and euer renowmed Lorde Henrie Howard Earle of Surrey my singular good Lorde and master, entered the listes after this order. His armour was all intermixed with lyllies and roses, and the bases therof bordered with nettles and weeds, signifieng stings, crosses, and ouergrowing incumbrances in his loue, his helmet round proportioned like a gardeners waterpot, from which seemed to issue forth small thrids of water, like citerne stringes, that not onely did moisten the lillies and roses, but did fructifie as well the nettles and weedes, and made them ouergrow their liege Lordes. Whereby hee did importe thus much, that the teares that issued from his braine, as those arteficiall distillations issued from the well counterfeit waterpot on his head, watered and gaue life as well to his mistres disdaine (resembled to nettles and weedes) as increase of glorie to her care-causing beautie, (comprehended vnder the lillies and roses.) The simbole thereto annexed was this, ex lachrimis lachrimæ. The trappinges of his horse were pounced and boulstered out with rough plumed siluer plush, in full proportion and shape of an Estrich. On the breast of the horse were the forepartes of this greedie birde aduaunced, whence as his manner is, hee reacht out his long necke to the raines of the bridle, thinking they had beene yron, and styll seemed to gape after the golden bit, and euer as the courser dyd rayse or curuet, to haue swallowed it halfe in. His winges, which hee neuer vseth but running, beeing spreaded full sayle, made his lustie steede as proude vnder him as he had beene some other Pegasus, and so quieueringly and tenderly were these his broade wings bound to either side of him, that as he paced vp and downe the tilt-yard in his maiestie ere the knights were entered, they seemed wantonly to fan in his face and make a flickering sound, such as Eagles doe, swiftly pursuing their praie in the ayre. On either of his winges, as the Estrich hath a sharpe goade or pricke wherewith hee spurreth himselfe forwarde in his saile-assisted race, so this artificiall Estrich, on the imbent knuckle of the pinion of either wing, had embossed christall eies affixed, wherein wheele wise were circularly ingrafted sharpe pointed diamonds, as rayes from those eies deriued, that like the rowels of a spurre ran deep into his horse sides, and made him more eager in his course.
The right honorable and ever-renowned Lord Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, my unique good lord and master, entered the tournament in this manner. His armor was adorned with lilies and roses, and the edges were trimmed with nettles and weeds, symbolizing the stings, struggles, and overwhelming burdens in his love. His helmet was rounded like a gardener's watering can, from which small strands of water appeared to flow, like strings from a cistern, that not only nourished the lilies and roses but also caused the nettles and weeds to thrive and overshadow their lord. This suggested that the tears from his brain, just like the artificial distillations from the well-crafted watering can on his head, watered and gave life to both his mistress's disdain (represented by the nettles and weeds) and the glory of her troublesome beauty (depicted by the lilies and roses). The motto attached was ex lacrimis lacrimae. The decorations on his horse were puffed and bolstered with rough, plumed silver plush, fully shaped like an ostrich. On the horse's chest were the front parts of this greedy bird displayed, from where, as was his habit, it reached out its long neck to the reins of the bridle, mistaking them for iron, and seemed to constantly try to grab the golden bit, ever ready to swallow it whole as the steed raised or curved its body. Its wings, which it only used while running, were fully spread, making the lively horse seem as proud beneath him as if it were another Pegasus. As he paced back and forth in the tilt-yard before the knights entered, the broad wings, tenderly bound to either side of him, seemed to playfully fan his face and make a flickering sound, reminiscent of eagles swiftly pursuing their prey in the air. Each wing, like an ostrich's sharp spur that propels it forward in its wind-assisted race, had crystal eyes embedded at the knuckle of each wing’s joint, with sharp-pointed diamonds circularly set within, resembling rays from those eyes that dug deep into the horse’s sides and made it more eager in its run.
Such a fine dimme shine dide these christall eies and these round enranked diamonds make through their bolne swelling bowres of feathers, as if it had beene a candle in a paper lanterne, or a gloworme in a bush by night, glistering through the leaues and briers. The taile of the Estrich being short and thicke, serued verie fitly as a plume to tricke vp his horse taile with, so that euerie parte of him was as naturally coapted as might be. The word to this deuice was Aculeo alatus, I spread my wings onely spurd with her eies. The morral of the whole is this, that as the Estrich, the most burning sighted bird of all others, insomuch as the female of them hatcheth not hir egs by couering them, but by the effectual raies of hir eies as he, I saie, outstrippeth the nimblest trippers of his feathered condition in footman-shippe, onely spurd on with the needle quickning goade vnder his side, so hee no lesse burning sighted than the Estrich, spurd on to the race of honor by the sweete raies of his mistres eies, perswaded himselfe hee should outstrip all other in running to the goale of glorie only animated and incited by her excellence. And as the Estrich wil eat iron, swallow anie hard mettall whatsoeuer, so would he refuse no iron aduenture, no hard taske whatsoeuer, to sit in the grace of so fayre a commander. The order of his shield was this, it was framed like a burning glasse, beset round with flame colourd feathers, on the outside whereof was his mistres picture adorned as beautifull as art could portrature, on the inside a naked sword tied in a true loue knot, the mot, Militat omtiis amans. Signifieng that in a true loue knot his sword was tide to defend and maintaine the high features of his mistres.
Such a soft glow shone from these crystal eyes and round, arranged diamonds through their fluffy, puffed-up feathers, like a candle inside a paper lantern, or a firefly in a bush at night, sparkling through the leaves and thorns. The tail of the ostrich was short and thick, serving perfectly as a plume to embellish his horse's tail, so that every part of him was as naturally suited as possible. The phrase for this device was Aculeo alatus, I spread my wings solely spurred by her eyes. The moral of the whole is this: just as the ostrich, the most visually acute bird of all, doesn’t incubate its eggs by sitting on them but by the powerful rays of its eyes, I say he surpasses the speediest of his feathered kind in running, only driven by the quickening goad under his side. Likewise, he, just as sharp-eyed as the ostrich, spurred on to the race for honor by the sweet rays of his mistress's eyes, convinced himself he would outpace everyone in the run for glory, solely motivated and inspired by her excellence. And just as the ostrich will eat iron and swallow any hard metal, he would refuse no iron challenge or tough task just to earn the favor of such a beautiful leader. The design of his shield was like a burning glass, surrounded by flame-colored feathers, with his mistress's picture on the outside, as beautiful as art could depict. On the inside was a naked sword tied in a true love knot, with the motto, Militat omtiis amans. This signified that in a true love knot, his sword was bound to defend and uphold the high qualities of his mistress.
Next him entered the blacke knight, whose beauer was pointed all torne & bloudie, as though he had new come from combatting with a Beare, his head piece seemed to bee a little ouen fraught full with smoothering flames, for nothing but sulphure and smoake voided out at the cleftes of his beauer. His bases were all imbrodered with snakes & adders, ingendered of the abundance of innocent bloud that was shed. His horses trappinges were throughout bespangled with hunnie spottes, which are no blemishes, but ornaments. On his shield he bare the Sunne full shining on a diall at his going downe, the word sufficit tandem.
Next to him entered the black knight, whose helmet was all damaged and bloody, as if he had just come from fighting a bear. His headpiece looked a bit like a small oven filled with smothering flames, as smoke and sulfur billowed out from the cracks of his helmet. His armor was embroidered with snakes and vipers, born from the excessive innocent blood that had been shed. His horse's gear was covered in honey spots, which are not flaws but decorations. On his shield, he bore the sun shining brightly on a dial as it set, with the words sufficit tandem.
After him followed the knight of the Owle, whose armor was a stubd tree ouergrowen with iuie, his helmet fashioned lyke an owle sitting on the top of this iuie, on his bases were wrought all kinde of birdes as on the grounde wondering about him, the word, Ideo mirum quia monstrunty his horses furniture was framed like a cart, scattering whole sheaues of corne amongst hogs, the word Liberalitas liberalitate perit. On his shield a bee intangled in sheepes wooll, the mot Frontis nulla fides. The fourth that succeeded was a well proportioned knight in an armor imitating rust, whose head piece was prefigured like flowers growing in a narrowe pot, where they had not anie space to spread their roots or dispearse their florishing. His bases embelisht with open armed handes scattering golde amongst tranchions, the word Cura futuri est. His horse was harnished with leaden chaines, hauing the outside guilt, or at least saffrond in stead of guilt, to decypher a holie or golden pretence of a couetous purpose, the sentence Cani capilli mei compedes, on his target he had a number of crawling wormes kept vnder by a blocke, the faburthen, Speramus lucent. The fift was the forsaken knight, whose helmet was crowned with nothing but cipresse and willow garlands, ouer his armor he had on Himens nuptiall robe died in a duskie yelow, and all to be defaced and discoloured with spots & staines. The enigma, Nosquoque floritnus, as who shuld saie, we haue bin in fashion, his stead was adorned with orenge tawnie eies, such as those haue that haue the yellowe iandies, that make all things yellow they looke vpon, with this briefe, Qui inuident egent. Those that enuie are hungrie. The sixth was the knight of the stormes, whose helmet was round moulded like the Moone, and all his armour like waues, whereon the shine of the Moone sleightly siluerd, perfectly represented Mooneshine in the water, his bases were the banks or shores that bounded in the streames. The spoke was this, Frustra picus, as much to say, as fruitles seruice. On his shield he set forth a lion driuen from his praie by a dunghill cocke. The worde, Non vi sed voce, not by violence but by his voice.
After him came the knight of the Owl, whose armor resembled a sturdy tree covered in ivy, his helmet shaped like an owl perched on top of this ivy. On his armor were carved various birds, as if they were on the ground gazing at him, with the words, Ideo mirum quia monstrunty. His horse's gear was designed like a cart, scattering entire bundles of corn among pigs, with the words Liberalitas liberalitate perit. On his shield, there was a bee caught in sheep's wool, the motto Frontis nulla fides. The fourth to follow was a well-built knight in armor made to look rusty. His helmet was shaped like flowers growing in a narrow pot, where they had no room to spread their roots or bloom. His armor was embellished with open-handed figures scattering gold among trenchers, the words Cura futuri est. His horse was adorned with lead chains, with the exterior gilt or at least saffron instead of gold, suggesting a holy or golden pretense of greedy intent, with the phrase Cani capilli mei compedes. On his shield, he depicted many crawling worms held down by a block, the saying Speramus lucent. The fifth was the forsaken knight, whose helmet was crowned only with cypress and willow garlands. Over his armor, he wore a marriage robe dyed in a dull yellow, all of which was worn and stained. The enigma, Nosquoque floritnus, implied that we have been in fashion, while his face was adorned with orange-brown eyes, like those who have jaundice, making everything they looked at turn yellow, with this brief saying, Qui inuident egent, meaning those who envy are hungry. The sixth was the knight of storms, whose helmet was round like the moon, and all his armor resembled waves, reflecting the silver shine of the moon, perfectly portraying moonlight on water. His bases were the banks or shores that contained the streams. The phrase was Frustra picus, meaning fruitless service. On his shield, he depicted a lion driven away from its prey by a dung-hill cock, with the words Non vi sed voce, meaning not by force but by voice.
The seuenth had lyke the gyants that sought to scale heauen in despight of Jupiter, a mount ouerwhelming his head and whole bodie. His bases outlayde with armes and legges which the skirts of that mountain left vncouered. Under this did hee characterise a man desirous to climbe to the heauen of honour, kept vnder with the mountaine of his princes command, and yet had hee armes and legges exempted from the suppression of the mountaine. The word, Tu mihi criminis author (alluding to his Princes commaund) thou art the occasion of my imputed cowardise. His horse was trapt in the earthie stringes of tree rootes, which though their increase was stubbed downe to the grounde, yet were they not vtterly deaded, but hop'd for an after resurrection. The worde, Spe alor, I hope for a spring. Uppon his shield hee bare a ball striken downe with a mans hand that it might mount The worde, Ferior vt efferar, I suffer my selfe to bee contemned because I will climbe. The eighth had all his armour throughout engrayled lyke a crabbed brierie hawthorne bush, out of which notwithstanding sprung (as a good Childe of an ill Father) fragraunt Blossomes of delightfull Maye Flowers, that made (according to the nature of Maye) a most odoriferous smell. In middest of this his snowie curled top, rounde wrapped together, on the ascending of his creast sate a solitarie nightingale close encaged with a thorne at her breast, hauing this mot in her mouth, Luctus monumenta manebunt. At the foote of this bush represented on his bases, lay a number of blacke swolne Toades gasping for winde, and Summer liu'de grashoppers gaping after deaw, both which were choakt with excessiue drouth, and for want of shade. The word, Nan sine vulnere viresco, I spring not without impediments, alluding to the Toades and such lyke, that earst laye sucking at his rootes, but nowe were turnd out, and neere choakt with drought His horse was suited in blacke sandie earth (as adiacent to this bush) which was here and there patched with short burnt grasse, and as thicke inke dropped with toyling ants & emets as euer it might crall, who in the full of the summer moone, (ruddie garnished on his horses forehead) hoorded vp theyr prouision of grain agaynst winter. The word Victrix fortuno sapientia, prouidence preuents misfortune. On his shield he set forth the picture of death doing almes deeds to a number of poore desolate children. The word, Nemo alius explicate No other man takes pittie vpon vs. What his meaning was heerein I cannot imagine, except death had done him and his brethren some greate good turne in ridding them of some vntoward parent or kinsman that woulde haue beene their confusion, for else I cannot see howe death shoulde haue beene sayde to doe almes deedes, except he had depriued them sodainly of their liues, to deliuer them out of some further miserie, which coulde not in anie wise bee because they were yet liuing.
The seventh was like the giants who tried to scale heaven despite Jupiter, a mountain overwhelming his head and whole body. His base was adorned with arms and legs left uncovered by the skirts of that mountain. Under this, he depicted a man eager to climb to the heaven of honor, held back by the mountain of his prince's command, yet he had arms and legs free from the mountain's suppression. The phrase, Tu mihi criminis author (referring to his prince's command), means you are the cause of my perceived cowardice. His horse was tangled in the earthly strings of tree roots, which, although they had been cut down to the ground, were not completely dead but hoped for a resurrection. The phrase, Spe alor, means I hope for new growth. On his shield, he carried a ball knocked down by a man's hand so that it might rise again. The phrase, Ferior ut efferar, means I allow myself to be despised because I want to climb. The eighth had all his armor engraved like a twisted, thorny hawthorn bush, from which, despite its origins, sweet blossoms of delightful May flowers sprang forth, creating a wonderfully fragrant aroma. In the center of his snowy, curled top, surrounded on his crest sat a lonely nightingale closely trapped by a thorn at her breast, holding the phrase, Luctus monumenta manebunt. At the base of this bush, depicted on his feet, lay a number of black, swollen toads gasping for air, and summer-dwelling grasshoppers gasping for dew, both of which were suffocated by excessive drought and lack of shade. The phrase, Nan sine vulnere viresco, means I do not thrive without setbacks, alluding to the toads and others that once lay sucking at his roots but were now forced out and nearly choked by the drought. His horse was suited in black sandy earth (as close to this bush) which was patched here and there with short burnt grass and as thick with toiling ants and emmets as it could be, who, under the full summer moon (ruddy highlighted on his horse’s forehead), hoarded their grain in preparation for winter. The phrase, Victrix fortuna sapientia, means foresight prevents misfortune. On his shield, he displayed the image of death performing acts of charity for a number of poor, desolate children. The phrase, Nemo alius explicate, means no other man has compassion for us. What he meant by this, I cannot imagine, unless death had done him and his siblings a great kindness by freeing them from some troublesome parent or relative who would have brought them ruin, because otherwise, I cannot see how death could be said to do charitable deeds unless it had suddenly deprived them of their lives to deliver them from some further misery, which cannot be the case since they were still living.
The ninth was the infant knight, who on his armour had ennameld a poore young infant, put into a shippe without tackling, masts, furniture, or any thing. This weather beaten and ill apparelled shippe was shaddowed on his bases, and the slender compasse of his body set forth the right picture of an infant The waues wherein the ship was tossed were fretted on his steads trappings so mouingly, that euer as he offered to bounde or stirre, they seemed to bounse, and tosse, and sparkle brine out of theyr hoarie siluer billowes. Theyr mot, Inopem me copia fecit, as much to saie, as the rich praye makes the theefe.
The ninth was the young knight, who had a poor little baby depicted on his armor, placed in a ship without any rigging, masts, or equipment. This weathered and poorly outfitted ship was outlined on his bases, and the slender shape of his body clearly represented that of an infant. The waves that tossed the ship were so distressing on his horse's gear that whenever he tried to leap or move, they seemed to bounce, toss, and splash saltwater out of their frothy silver waves. Their motto, Inopem me copia fecit, meant that rich spoils make the thief.
On his shielde hee expressed an olde Goate that made a young tree to wither onely with biting it. The worde thereto Primo extinguor in ouo, I am frostbitten ere I come out of the blade.
On his shield, he displayed an old goat that caused a young tree to wither just by biting it. The phrase written there is Primo extinguor in ouo, which means I am frostbitten before I even emerge from the blade.
It were here too tedious to manifest all the discontented or amorous deuises yt were vsed in that turnament. The shieldes onely of some few I wil touch to make short worke. One bare for his impresse the eies of yong swallowes comming againe after they were pluckt out, with this mot, Et addit et addimit, your beautie both bereaues and restores my sight. Another a siren smiling when the sea rageth and ships are ouerwhelmed, including a cruell woman, that laughs, singes and scornes at her louers tears, and the tempests of his despaire, the word Cuncta pereunt, all my labor is ill imploid. A third being troubled with a curst, a trecherous and wanton wanton wife, vsed this similitude. On his shild he caused to be limmed Pompeies ordinance for paracides, as namely a man put into a sack with a cocke, a serpent and an ape, interpreting that his wife was a cocke for her crowing, a serpent for her stinging, and an ape for her vnconstant wantonnesse, with which ill qualities hee was so beset, that thereby hee was throwen into a sea of grief. The worde Extremum malorum mulier, The vtmost of euils is a woman. A fourth, who being a person of suspected religion, was continually hanted with intelligencers and spies that thought to praie vppon him for that hee had, he could not deuise which waie to shape them off, but by making away that he had. To obscure this, hee vsed no other fansie but a number of blinde flies, whose eies the colde had closed, the word Aurum reddit acutissimum, Gold is the onely phisicke for the eiesight A fifth, whose mistres was fallen into a consumption, and yet would condiscend to no treatie of loue, emblazond for his complaint, grapes that witherd for want of pressing. The dittie to the mot, Quid regna sine vsu. I will rehearse no more, but I haue an hundred other, let this be the vpshot of these shewes, they were the admirablest that euer Florence yelded. To particularize their maner of encounter, were to describe the whol art of tilting. Some had like to haue falle ouer their horse neck and so breake their neckes in breaking their staues. Others ranne at a buckle in stead of a button, & peraduenture whetted their spears pointes, idlely gliding on their enemies sides, but did no other harme. Others ranne a crosse at theyr aduersaries left elbow, yea, and by your leaue sometimes let not the lists scape scot-free they were so eager. Others because they would be sure not to be vnsadled with the shocke, when they came to the speares vtmost proofe, they threw it ouer the right shoulder, and so tilted backward, for forwarde they durst not Another had a monstrous spite at the pommell of his riuals saddle, and thought to haue thrust his speare twixt his legges without rasing anie skinne, and carried him cleane awaie on it as a coolestaffe. Another held his speare to his nose, or his nose to his speare, as though he had ben discharging a caliuer, and ranne at the right foote of his fellowes stead. Onely the earle of Surry my master obserued y true measures of honor, and made all his encounterers new scoure their armor in the dust. So great was his glorie y daie, as Geraldine was therby etemally glorifide. Neuersuch a bountifull master came amongst the heralds (not that he did inrich the with anie plentifull purse largesse) but that by his sterne assaultes hee tithed them more rich offals of bases, of helmets, of armour, than the rent of their offices came to in ten yeres before. What would you haue more, the trumpets proclaimed him master of the field, the trumpets proclaimed Geraldine the exceptionlesse fayrest of women. Euerie one striued to magnifie him more than other. The Duke of Florence, whose name (as my memorie serueth me) was Paschal de Medices, offered him such large proffers to staie with him as it were vncredible to report He would not, his desire was as hee had done in Florence, so to proceede throughout all the chiefe cities in Italy. If you aske why he began not this at Venice first. It was because he would let Florence his mistres natiue citie haue the maidenhead of his chiualrie. As hee came backe againe hee thought to haue enacted something there worthie the Annals of posteritie, but he was debard both of that and all his other determinations, for continuing in feasting and banketting with the Duke of Florence and the Princes of Italy there assembled, posthast letters came to him from the king his master, to returne as speedily as he could possible into England, wherby his fame was quite cut off by the shins, and there was no repriue but Bazelus manus, hee must into England, and I with my curtizan trauelled forward in Italy.
It would take too long to list all the discontented or romantic ideas used in that tournament. I will mention only a few shields to keep it brief. One shield displayed the eyes of young swallows returning after being plucked out, with the motto, Et addit et addimit, meaning your beauty both takes away and restores my sight. Another showed a siren smiling while the sea raged and ships were overwhelmed, symbolizing a cruel woman who laughs, sings, and mocks her lover's tears and despair, with the words Cuncta pereunt, meaning all my efforts are wasted. A third shield depicted the owner’s troubles with a deceitful and wanton wife. He illustrated Pompeies punishment for parricides, showing a man in a sack with a rooster, a snake, and a monkey, implying his wife was like a rooster for her crowing, a snake for her stinging, and a monkey for her unfaithfulness, leading him into a sea of grief. The saying Extremum malorum mulier, translates to the ultimate evil is a woman. A fourth individual, suspected of heretical beliefs, was constantly haunted by informants and spies, trying to exploit him for his wealth; he couldn’t figure out how to avoid them but by getting rid of his riches. To obscure this, he used the image of a number of blind flies, whose eyes were shut by the cold, with the motto Aurum reddit acutissimum, meaning gold is the only remedy for eyesight. A fifth, whose mistress had fallen ill and refused any romantic proposals, illustrated his complaint with grapes that withered for lack of pressing, paired with the saying Quid regna sine usu. I won’t recount more, but I have a hundred other examples; let this be a summary of these shows, which were the most remarkable ever staged in Florence. Detailing their encounters would describe the entire art of jousting. Some nearly fell off their horses and broke their necks when they shattered their lances. Others aimed at buckles instead of buttons and might have just grazed their opponents, doing no real harm. Some struck at their adversaries’ left elbows, and occasionally, they didn’t let the lists go unscathed, being so eager. Others, wanting to avoid falling off during the shock, tossed their lance over their right shoulder and tilted backward, as they dared not lean forward. One had a grudge against the pommel of his rival’s saddle and tried to stab his spear between his legs without breaking the skin, carrying him away like a bag of garbage. Another positioned his spear at his nose, as if discharging a firearm, and charged at his opponent’s right foot. Only the Earl of Surrey, my master, followed the true principles of honor and forced all of his competitors to polish their armor in the dust. His glory that day was such that Geraldine was left eternally glorified. No other generous master joined the heralds (not that he enriched them with a lavish purse) but through his fierce attacks, he collected more valuable spoils of broken bases, helmets, and armor than the revenue from their offices in the past ten years combined. What more could you want? The trumpets declared him master of the field, and they proclaimed Geraldine the most extraordinary beauty of all women. Everyone tried to praise him more than the next. The Duke of Florence, named (as I recall) Paschal de Medici, offered him such extravagant incentives to stay that it seemed incredible to share. He declined, wanting to continue his quest for honor throughout all the chief cities in Italy, having already made his mark in Florence first. When returning, he aimed to perform something worthy of the annals of history, but he was barred from that and all other plans. While he was feasting with the Duke of Florence and the assembled Italian princes, urgent letters arrived from his king, commanding him to return to England as swiftly as possible, cutting off his fame, leaving him no choice but to obey Bazelus manus. He had to go to England, and I, with my companion, continued traveling through Italy.
What aduentures happened him after we parted, I am ignorant, but Florence we both forsooke, and I hauing a wonderful ardent inclination to see Rome the Queen of the world, & metrapolitane mistres of all other cities, made thether with my bag and baggage as fast as I could.
What adventures he had after we parted, I don’t know, but we both left Florence, and I, having an intense desire to see Rome, the queen of the world and the main city of all others, headed there with my belongings as quickly as I could.
Attained thether, I was lodged at the house of one Iohannes de Imola a Roman caualiero. Who being acquainted with my curtisans deceased doting husband, for his sake vsd vs with all the familiaritie that might be. He shewed vs all the monuments that were to be seene, which are as many as ther haue beene Emperours, Consuls, Orators, Conquerours, famous painters or plaiers in Rome. Till this daie not a Romane (if he be a right Romane in deed) will kill a rat, but he will haue some registred remembrance of it There was a poore fellowe during my remainder ther, that for a new trick he had inuented of killing Cymess & scorpions, had his mountebank banner hung vp on a high piller, with an inscription about it longer than the king of Spaines stile. I thought these Cymesses like the Cimbrians had bene some strange nation hee had brought vnder, & they were no more but things like sheepelice, which aliue haue the venomost sting that may be, and being dead do stinke out of measure. Saint Austen compareth heretiques vnto them. The chiefest thing that my eyes delighted in, was the church of the 7. Sibels, which is a most miraculous thing. All their prophesies and oracles being there enroulde, as also the beginning and ending of their whole catalogue of the heathen Gods, with their manner of worship. There are a number of other shrines and statues also dedicated to their Emperors, and withal some statues of idolatrie reserued for detestation. I was at Pontius Pilates house and pist against it There is the prison yet packt vp together (an old rotten thing) where the man that was condemned to death, and could haue no bodie come to him and succour him but was searcht, was kept aliue a long space by sucking his daughters breasts.
Once I arrived there, I stayed at the home of a Roman gentleman named Iohannes de Imola. He was familiar with the late husband of my companion and treated us with all possible friendliness out of respect for him. He showed us all the historical sites, which are as numerous as the Emperors, Consuls, Orators, conquerors, and famous artists or performers in Rome. To this day, no true Roman will kill a rat without marking it in some way. During my time there, there was a poor guy who had a new method for killing Cymess and scorpions, and he had his street performance banner displayed on a tall pillar, with an inscription longer than the title of the King of Spain. I thought these Cymesses, like the Cimbrians, were some strange nation he had conquered, but they turned out to be nothing more than creatures similar to lice, which have the most poisonous sting when alive and smell terrible when dead. Saint Augustine compares heretics to them. The thing that fascinated me the most was the church of the seven Sibyls, which is truly a remarkable site. All their prophecies and oracles are inscribed there, along with the beginning and end of their entire list of pagan gods and their methods of worship. There are also numerous other shrines and statues dedicated to the Emperors, as well as some statues of idolatry reserved for condemnation. I visited Pontius Pilate’s house and even urinated against it. There remains the ancient, crumbling prison where the man condemned to death, who could get no one to come and help him but was searched, survived for a long time by nursing from his daughter's breasts.
These are but the shop dust of the sights that I saw, and in truth I dyd not beholde with anie care hereafter to report, but contented my eie for the present, and so let them passe. Should I memorize halfe the myracles which they there tolde me had beene done about martyres tombes, or the operations of the earth of the sepulchre, and other reliques brought from Jerusalem, I should bee counted the monstrous Her that euer came in print.
These are just the leftover details of the sights I saw, and honestly, I didn’t pay much attention to them for reporting later, but I enjoyed them at the moment and let them go. If I were to remember half the miracles they told me happened at the martyrs' tombs, or the wonders of the Sepulchre, and other relics brought from Jerusalem, I would be seen as the most ridiculous person ever to have been published.
The mines of Pompeies theater, reputed one of the nine wonders of the worlde, Gregory the sixths Tombe, Priscillas Grate, or the thousands of Piliers arreared amongst the raced foundations of old Rome, it were heere friuolous to specifie: since he that hath but once drunke with a traueller talkes of them. Let mee bee a Historiographer of my owne misfortunes, and not meddle with the continued Trophees of so olde a triumphing Citie.
The mines of Pompeii theater, considered one of the nine wonders of the world, Gregory the sixth’s tomb, Priscilla's gate, or the thousands of pillars standing among the ancient foundations of old Rome, it would be pointless to mention here: since anyone who has once drunk with a traveler talks about them. Let me be a chronicler of my own misfortunes, and not interfere with the ongoing trophies of such an ancient triumphant city.
At my first comming to Rome, I being a youth of the English cut, ware my haire long, went apparailed in light coulours, and imitated foure or fiue sundrie Nations in my attyre at once: which no sooner was noated, but I had all the boyes of the Citie in a swarme wondering about mee. I had not gone a little farther, but certaine Officers crost the waie of me, and demanded to see my rapier: which when they found (as also my dagger) with his poynt vnblunted, they would haue hal'd me headlong to the Strappado, but that with money I appeased them: and my fault was more pardonable in that I was a stranger, altogether ignorant of their customes.
When I first arrived in Rome, as a young Englishman, I wore my hair long, dressed in light colors, and mixed elements from four or five different cultures in my outfit at once. As soon as people noticed, all the boys in the city swarmed around me in amazement. I hadn’t gone much further when some officers blocked my path and asked to see my rapier. When they found both it and my dagger with their points still sharp, they nearly dragged me off to the Strappado, but I managed to calm them down with some money. My mistake was more forgivable since I was a stranger, completely unaware of their customs.
Note by the waye, that it is the vse in Rome, for all men whatsoeuer to weafe their haire short: which they doo not so much for conscience sake, or anie religion they place in it, but because the extremitie of the heate is such there, that if they should not doo so, they should not haue a haire left on their heads to stand vpright, when they were scard with sprights. And hee is counted no Gentleman amongst them that goes not in black: they dresse their iesters and fooles onely in fresh colours, and say variable garments doo argue vnstayednes and vnconstancie of affections.
Note that in Rome, it's common for everyone to wear their hair short. They do this not so much out of belief or religious reasons, but because the heat there is so intense that if they didn’t, they wouldn’t have a single hair left on their heads to stand up when they’re frightened by spirits. Anyone who doesn’t wear black isn't considered a gentleman among them. They dress their jesters and fools only in bright colors, believing that colorful clothing reflects inconsistency and unstable emotions.
The reason of their straight ordinaunce of carrying weapons without points is this. The Bandettos which are certaine outlawes that lye betwixt Rome & Naples, and besiege the passage that none can trauell that way without robbing: Now and then hired for some few crownes, they wil steale to Rome and doe a murther, and betake them to their heeles againe. Disguised as they go, they are not knowen from strangers, sometimes they will shroude themselues vnder the habite of graue citizens. In this consideration neither citizen nor stranger, gentleman, knight, marques, or any may weare anie weapon endamageable vppon paine of the strappado. I bought it out, let others buy experience of me better cheape.
The reason they carry weapons without points is this. The Bandettos, who are outlaws living between Rome & Naples, block the passage, making it impossible to travel that way without risking robbery. Occasionally, for a few coins, they sneak into Rome to commit murder and then quickly escape. Disguised, they blend in with strangers and sometimes hide under the appearance of respectable citizens. Because of this, no one—citizen or stranger, gentleman, knight, or marquis—can carry any dangerous weapon without facing the punishment of strappado. I bought my way out of this; let others learn from my experience at a lower cost.
To tell you of the rare pleasures of their gardens, theyr baths, their vineyards, their galleries, were to write a second part of the gorgeous Gallerie of gallant deuices. Why, you should not come into anie mans house of account, but hee had fishponds and litle orchards on the top of his leads. If by rain or anie other meanes those ponds were so full they need to bee fluste or let out, euen of their superfluities they made melodious vse, for they had great winde instruments in stead of leaden spoutes, that went duely in consort, onely with this waters rumbling discent I saw a summer banketting house belonging to a marchant, that was the meruaile of the worlde, & could not be matcht except God should make another paradise. It was builte rounde of greene marble, like a Theater without, within there was a heauen and earth comprehended both vnder one roofe, the heauen was a cleere ouerhanging vault of christall, wherein the Sunne and Moone, and each visible Starre had his true similitude, shine, scituation, and motion, and by what enwrapped arte I cannot conceiue, these spheares in their proper orbes obserued their circular wheelings and turnings, making a certaine kinde of soft angelical murmering musicke in their often windings & going about, which musick the philosophers say in the true heauen by reason of the grosenes of our senses we are not capable of. For the earth it was counterfeited in that likenes that Adam lorded out it before his fall. A wide vast spacious roome it was, such as we would conceit prince Arthurs hall to be, where he feasted all his knightes of the round table together euerie penticost The floore was painted with y beautifullest floures that euer mans eie admired, which so lineally wer delineated, that he that viewd them a farre off, and had not directly stood poaringly ouer them, would haue sworne they had liued in deede. The wals round about were hedgde with Oliues and palme trees, and all other odoriferous fruit-bearing plants, which at anie solemne intertainment dropt mirrhe and frankensence. Other trees y bare no fruit, were set in iust order one against another, and diuided the roome into a number of shadie lanes, leauing but one ouer-spreading pine tree arbour, where wee sate and banketted. On the well clothed boughes of this conspiracie of pine trees against the resembled Sunne beames, were pearcht as many sortes of shrill breasted birdes, as the Summer hath allowed for singing men in her siluane chappels. Who though there were bodies without soules, & sweete resembled substances without sense, yet by the mathemeticall experimentes of long siluer pipes secretly inrinded in the intrailes of the boughs whereon they sate, and vndiscerneablie conuaid vnder their bellies into their small throats sloaping, they whistled and freely carold theyr naturall field note. Neyther went those siluer pipes straight, but by many edged vnsundred writhings, & crankled wandrings aside strayed from bough to bough into an hundred throates. But into this siluer pipe so writhed and wandering aside, if anie demand how the wind was breathed. Forsoth ye tail of the siluer pipe stretcht it selfe into the mouth of a great paire of bellowes, where it was close soldered, and bailde about with yron, it coulde not stirre or haue anie vent betwixt. Those bellowes with the rising and falling of leaden plummets wounde vp on a wheele, dyd beate vp and downe vncessantly, and so gathered in wind, seruing with one blast all the snarled pipes to and fro of one tree at once. But so closely were all those organizing implements obscured in the corpulent trunks of the trees, that euerie man there present renounst coniectures of art, and sayd it was done by inchantment.
To describe the rare pleasures of their gardens, baths, vineyards, and galleries would be like writing a sequel to the magnificent Gallery of gallant devices. You wouldn't visit any respectable person's house without seeing fish ponds and small orchards on the roofs. If rain or any other means filled those ponds to the brim, they would let some water out, and even their excess would produce beautiful music, as they had large wind instruments instead of metal spouts that played in harmony, complemented by the sound of the water cascading down. I once saw a summer party house belonging to a merchant, which was a marvel of the world, unmatched unless God should create another paradise. It was built entirely of green marble, resembling a theater on the outside, and inside there was a representation of heaven and earth under one roof. The ceiling was a clear, crystalline vault where the Sun, Moon, and every visible star had their true likeness, shine, position, and movement. I can’t imagine how, but these celestial bodies followed their own orbits, creating a soft, angelic murmur of music as they moved around, which philosophers say we can't perceive in the true heaven due to our senses being too coarse. As for the earth, it was crafted to represent what Adam ruled over before his fall. It was a vast, spacious room, much like how we might picture King Arthur's hall, where he would feast with all his knights of the round table every Pentecost. The floor was painted with the most beautiful flowers that anyone's eyes could admire, so exquisitely detailed that anyone who looked from a distance and didn't lean in closely would swear they were alive. The walls were surrounded by olive and palm trees, along with other fragrant fruit-bearing plants that would drop myrrh and frankincense during any grand event. Other non-fruit-bearing trees were arranged opposite each other, dividing the room into numerous shady paths, leaving only one expansive pine tree arbor, where we sat and feasted. On the well-covered branches of these pine trees, mimicking the sun's rays, perched as many types of singing birds as summer offers in its woodland chapels. Though they appeared to be bodies without souls, sweet, resembling substances without senses, they were connected to long silver pipes cunningly hidden within the branches they sat on, allowing them to whistle and freely sing their natural field notes. These silver pipes did not run straight but twisted and turned in many ways, curling from branch to branch, leading to a hundred throats. But if anyone questioned how the wind was produced through this silver pipe, the answer lay in the long tail of the pipe that extended into a large pair of bellows, firmly sealed and encased in iron, with no way to move or vent. Those bellows, rising and falling with heavy weights wound on a wheel, pumped up and down constantly, gathering air and serving with one blast through all the tangled pipes of one tree at once. However, these intricate devices were so cleverly concealed in the thick trunks of the trees that everyone present dismissed any thoughts of craftsmanship and believed it was all done by enchantment.
One tree for his fruit bare nothing but inchained chiriping birdes, whose throates beeing conduit pipt with squared narrow shels, & charged siring-wise with searching sweet water, driuen in by a little wheele for the nonce, and fed it afarre of, made a spirting sound, such as chirping is, in bubling vpwards through the rough crannies of their closed bils.
One tree for his fruit had nothing but caged chirping birds, whose throats were filled with narrow, squared shells, and supplied like a fountain with sweet water, brought in by a small wheel for the occasion, and fed from a distance, making a splashing sound, similar to chirping, as the water bubbled up through the rough openings of their closed beaks.
Under tuition of the shade of euerie tree that I haue signified to be in this round hedge, on delightfull leauie cloysters, lay a wylde tyrannous beast asleepe all prostrate: vnder some two together, as the Dogge nusling his nose vnder the necks of the Deare, the Wolfe glad to let the Lambe lye vpon hym to keepe him warme, the Lyon suffering the Asse to cast hys legge ouer him: preferring one honest vnmannerly frend, before a number of croutching picke-thankes. No poysonous beast there reposed, (poyson was not before our parent Adam transgressed). There were no sweete-breathing Panthers, that would hyde their terrifying heads to betraye: no men imitating Hyonaes. that chaunged their sexe to seeke after bloud. Wolues as now when they are hungrie eate earth, so then did they feede on earth onely, and abstained from innocent flesh. The Unicorne did not put his home into the streame to chase away venome before he drunke, for there was no such thing as venome extant in the water or on the earth. Serpents were as harmlesse to mankinde, as they are still one to another: the rose had no cankers, the leaues no caterpillers, the sea no Syrens, the earth no vsurers. Goates then bare wooll, as it is recorded in Sicily they doo yet. The torride Zone was habitable; onely Jayes loued to steale gold and siluer to build their nests withall, and none cared for couetous clientrie, or running to the Indies. As the Elephant vnderstands his countrey speach, so euerie beast vnderstood what men spoke. The ant did not hoord vp against winter, for there was no winter but a perpetuall spring, as Ouid sayth. No frosts to make the greene almond tree counted rash and improuident, in budding soonest of all other: or the mulberie tree a strange polititian, in blooming late and ripening early. The peach tree at the first planting was frutefull and wholesome, wheras now til it be transplanted, it is poysonous and hatefull. Yong plants for their sap had balme, for their yeolow gumme glistering amber. The euening deawd not water on flowers, but honnie. Such a golden age, such a good age, such an honest age was set foorth in this banquetting house.
Under the shade of every tree I mentioned in this round hedge, in delightful leafy cloisters, lay a wild tyrannical beast sleeping, completely sprawled out: under some two together, like a dog nuzzling his nose under the neck of a deer, the wolf happily letting the lamb lie on him to keep warm, the lion allowing the donkey to throw a leg over him: choosing one honest, awkward friend over a bunch of fawning sycophants. There were no poisonous beasts resting there (poison didn't exist before our ancestor Adam transgressed). There were no sweet-breathing panthers hiding their terrifying heads to betray; no men imitating hyenas, changing their sex to seek blood. Wolves, like now when they are hungry, would eat dirt, and back then they only fed on earth and abstained from innocent flesh. The unicorn didn’t dip its horn into the stream to chase away venom before drinking, because there was no such thing as venom either in water or on land. Snakes were as harmless to mankind as they still are to one another: the rose had no blemishes, the leaves had no caterpillars, the sea had no sirens, and the earth had no usurers. Goats then bore wool, just as it’s recorded in Sicily that they still do. The torrid zone was habitable; only jays liked to steal gold and silver to build their nests with, and no one cared about greedy clients or running to the Indies. Just as the elephant understands its native language, every beast understood what humans spoke. Ants didn't hoard up against winter, because there was no winter—only a perpetual spring, as Ovid said. No frosts made the green almond tree seem rash and imprudent for blooming earliest of all: or the mulberry tree a strange politician for blooming late and ripening early. The peach tree, at first planting, was fruitful and wholesome, whereas now it is poisonous and detestable until it is transplanted. Young plants produced balm for their sap, their yellow gum glistening like amber. The evening dew didn’t water the flowers, but instead was honey. Such a golden age, such a good age, such an honest age was represented in this banquet hall.
O Rome, if thou hast in thee such soule-exalting obiects: what a thing is heauen in comparison of thee, of which Mercators globe is a perfecter modell than thou art? Yet this I must say to the shame of vs Protestants, if good workes may merit heauen, they doo them, we talke of them. Whether superstition or no makes the vnprofitable seruants, that let pulpets decide: but there, you shall haue the brauest Ladies in gownes of beaten gold, washing pilgrimes and poore souldiours feete and dooing nothing they and their wayting mayds all the yeare long, but making shirts and bandes for them against they come by in distresse. Their hospitalls are more like noblemens houses than otherwise: so richly furnished, cleane kept, and hot perfumed, that a souldiour would thinke it a sufficient recompence for his trauell and his wounds, to haue such a heauenly retyring place. For the Pope and his pontificalibus I will not deale with, onely I will dilate vnto you what hapned whiles I was in Rome.
O Rome, if you have such soul-uplifting sights: what a thing heaven is compared to you, of which the Mercator's globe is a more perfect model than you are? Yet I must say, to the shame of us Protestants, if good works can earn heaven, they do them while we just talk about them. Whether superstition or not makes the unproductive servants let pulpits decide: but there, you’ll find the grandest ladies in gowns of beaten gold, washing pilgrims’ and poor soldiers’ feet and doing nothing all year but making shirts and bands for them to wear when they come by in distress. Their hospitals resemble noblemen’s houses more than anything else: so richly furnished, well-kept, and beautifully scented, that a soldier would think it a good enough reward for his travels and wounds to have such a heavenly retreat. As for the Pope and his ceremonial stuff, I won’t get into that; I’ll just share what happened while I was in Rome.
So it fell out, that it being a vehement hot summer when I was a soiourner there, there entred such a hotspurd plague as hath not been heard of: why it was but a word and a blow, Lord haue mercie vpon vs, and he was gone. Within three quarters of a yere in that one citie there dyed of it a hundred thousand: Looke in Lanquets Chronicle and you shall finde it. To smell of a nosegay, that was poysond: and turne your nose to a house, that had the plague, it was all one. The clouds like a number of cormorants, that keepe their corne till it stinke and is mustie, kept in their stinking exhalations, till they had almost stifled all Romes inhabitants. Phisitions, greedines of golde made them greedie of their destinie. They would come to visite those, with whose infirmities their arte had no affinitie: and euen as a man with a fee should bee hyred to hang himselfe, so would they quietly goe home and dye presently after they had been with their patients. All day and all night long carremen did nothing but goe vp and downe the streetes with their carts and crye, Haue you anie dead to burie, haue you anie dead to burie: and had manie times out of one house their whole loading: one graue was the sepulcher of seuenscore, one bed was the altar whereon whole families were offered.
So it happened that during a really hot summer while I was there, a terrible plague struck like nothing anyone had ever seen before. It was just a word and a blow, God have mercy on us, and then he was gone. Within just nine months, a hundred thousand people died from it in that one city. Check in Lanquets Chronicle, and you'll see it. To smell a nosegay that was poisoned or to turn your nose toward a house infested with the plague was the same thing. The clouds, like a bunch of greedy birds hoarding their grain until it rots, trapped their foul exhalations, nearly suffocating all the people of Rome. Doctors, driven by greed for gold, became desperate about their fate. They visited people whose ailments their skills couldn’t help, and just like a man who gets paid to hang himself, they would quietly go home and die shortly after seeing their patients. All day and night, cart drivers went up and down the streets with their carts, shouting, “Do you have any dead to bury? Do you have any dead to bury?” Often, they would leave one house with entire cartloads. One grave became the resting place for seventy people, and one bed became the altar where whole families were sacrificed.
The wals were hoard and furd with the moist scorching steam of their desolation. Euen as before a gun is shot off, a stinking smoake funnels out, and prepares the waie for him, so before anie gaue vp the ghost, death araied in a stinking smoke stopt his nostrils, and cramd it selfe full into his mouth, that closed vp his fellowes eyes, to giue him warning to prepare for his funeral. Some dide sitting at their meate, others as they were asking counsell of the phisition for their friendes. I saw at the house where I was hosted, a maide bring her master warme broth for to comfort him, and she sinke downe dead her self ere he had halfe eate it vp.
The walls were grimy and thick with the hot, damp steam of their despair. Just like when a gun goes off and a noxious smoke billows out, setting the stage, before anyone breathed their last, death, cloaked in foul smoke, filled their nostrils and stuffed itself into their mouths, closing their friends' eyes to signal that it was time to prepare for the funeral. Some died while sitting at their meals, others while seeking advice from the doctor for their friends. I saw at the place where I was staying, a maid bring her master warm broth to comfort him, and she collapsed dead herself before he had even finished eating it.
During this time of visitation, there was a Spaniard, one Esdras of Granado, a notable Bandetto, authorized by ye pope, because he assisted him in some murthers. This villain colleagued with one Bartol a desperate Italian, practised to breake into those rich mens houses in the night where the plague had most rained, and if there were none but the mistres and maid left aliue, to rauish them both, and bring awaie all the wealth they could fasten on. In a hundred chief citizens houses where the hand of God had bin, they put this outrage in vse. Thogh the women so rauished cride out, none durst come nere them, for feare of catching their deaths by them, & some thought they cried out onely with the tyrannie of the maladie. Amongst the rest the house where I lay he inuaded, where all being snatcht vp by the sicknesse but the good wife of the house, a noble and chast matrone called Heraclide and her Zanie, and I & my curtizan, he knocking at the dore late in the night, ranne in to the matrone, & left me and my loue to the mercie of his companion. Who finding me in bed (as the time requird) ranne at me full with his rapier, thinking I would resist him, but as good lucke was I escapt him & betooke me to my pistoll in the window vncharged. He fearing it had bene charged, threatned to run her through if I once offered but to aime at him, Foorth ye chamber he dragd her, holding his rapier at hir hart, whilest I stil crid out, Saue her, kil me, & Ile ransome her with a thousand duckets: but lust preuailed, no praiers would be heard. Into my chamber I was lockt, and watchmen charged (as he made semblance when there was none there) to knocke me downe with their halberdes, if I stirde but a foote downe the staires. So threw I my selfe pensiue againe on my pallat, and dard all the deuils in hell now I was alone to come and fight with me one after another in defence of that detestable rape. I beat my head against the wals and cald them bauds, because they wold see such a wrong committed, and not fall vpon him. To returne to Heraclide below, whom the vgliest of all bloud suckers Esdras of Granado had vnder shrift. First he assayled her with rough meanes, and slew her Zanie at her foote, that stept before her in rescue. Then when al armed resist was put to flight, he assaied her with honie speech, & promised her more iewells and giftes than hee was able to pilfer in an hundred yeres after. He discourst vnto her how he was countenanced and borne out by the pope, and how many execrable murthers with impunitie he had executed on them that displeasde him. This is the eight score house (quoth he) that hath done homage vnto me, and here I will preuaile, or I will bee torne in pieces. Ah quoth Heraclide (with a hart renting sigh) art thou ordaind to be a worse plague to me than ye plague it selfe? Haue I escapt the hands of God to fal into the hands of man? Heare me Iehouah, & be merciful in ending my miserie. Dispatch me incontinent dissolute homicide deaths vsurper. Here lies my husband stone colde on the dewie floore. If thou beest of more power than God, to strike me speedily, strike home, strike deep, send me to heauen with my husband. Aie me, it is the spoyl of my honor thou seekest in my soules troubled departure, thou art some deuill sent to tempt me. Auoide from me sathan, my soule is my sauiours, to him I haue bequeathed it, from him can no man take it. Jesu, Jesu spare mee vndefiled for thy spouse, Jesu, Jesu neuer faile those that put their trust in thee. With that she fell in a sowne, and her eies in their closing seemed to spaune forth in their outward sharpe corners new created seed pearle, which the world before neuer set eie on. Soone he rigorously reuiued her, & tolde her yt he had a charter aboue scripture, she must yeld, she should yeld, see who durst remoue her out of his hands. Twixt life and death thus she faintly replied. How thinkest thou, is there a power aboue thy power, if there be, he is here present in punishment, and on thee will take present punishment if thou persistest in thy enterprise. In the tyme of securitie euerie man sinneth, but when death substitutes one frend his special bayly to arrest another by infection, and dispearseth his quiuer into ten thousand hands at once, who is it but lookes about him? A man that hath an vneuitable huge stone hanging only by a haire ouer his head, which he lookes euerie Pater noster while to fall and pash him in peeces, will not he be submissiuely sorrowfull for his transgressions, refraine himselfe from the least thought of folly, and purifie his spirit with contrition and penitence? Gods hand like a huge stone hangs vneuitably ouer thy head: what is the plague, but death playing the prouost marshall, to execute all those that wil not be called home by anie other meanes. This my deare knights body is a quiuer of his arrowes, which alreadie are shot into thee inuisible. Euen as the age of goates is knowen by the knots on their homes, so think the anger of God apparently visioned or showne vnto thee in the knitting of my browes. A hundred haue I buried out of my house, at all whose departures I haue been present: a hundreds infection is mixed with my breath, loe, now I breath vpon thee, a hundred deaths come vpon thee. Repent betimes, imagine there is a hell though not a heauen: that hell thy conscience is throughly acquainted with, if thou hast murdred halfe so manie, as thou vnblushingly braggest. As Mocenas in the latter end of his dayes was seuen yeres without sleepe, so these seuen weekes haue I took no slumber, my eyes haue kept continuall watch against the diuell my enemie: death I deemed my frend (frends flie from vs in aduersitie), death, the diuell & al the ministring spirits of temptation are watching about thee to intrap thy soule by my abuse to eternall damnation. It is thy soule only thou maist saue by sauing mine honor.
During this time, there was a Spaniard named Esdras from Granado, a notorious bandit, sanctioned by the pope because he helped him with some murders. This villain teamed up with an Italian named Bartol, who was desperate for money, and they planned to break into the homes of wealthy individuals during the night when the plague was most rampant. If only the mistress and maid were left alive, they would assault them both and take as much wealth as they could carry. They committed this outrage in a hundred homes of prominent citizens where the hand of God had been felt. Although the women cried out in distress, no one dared to come to their aid for fear of catching their deaths from the plague, and some thought their cries were simply due to the torment of their illness. Among those targeted was the house where I was staying, where nearly everyone had succumbed to the sickness except for the noble and virtuous mistress of the house, Heraclide, her maid, and my companion. When he knocked on the door late at night, he rushed in and attacked the mistress, leaving me and my love at the mercy of his accomplice. Finding me in bed, he lunged at me with his rapier, thinking I would resist. Thankfully, I escaped and reached for my unloaded pistol by the window. Fearing that it was loaded, he threatened to kill her if I even attempted to aim at him. He dragged her out of the room, holding his rapier to her heart, while I yelled, "Save her, kill me, and I'll ransom her with a thousand ducats!" But his lust overpowered us; no prayers would be heeded. I was locked in my chamber, and watchmen were instructed—acting as if there were none present—to beat me down with their halberds if I moved a step down the stairs. I threw myself back down on my pallet, despairing as every devil in hell now approached me, one after another, as I fought against that horrible assault. I banged my head against the walls and cursed them for allowing such an injustice without coming to his aid. Meanwhile, Heraclide below was attacked by the ugliest of all bloodsuckers, Esdras of Granado, who had her in his grasp. First, he assaulted her with brutal force, killing her maid who stepped in to help. When all resistance was dismantled, he tried sweet-talking her, promising more jewels and gifts than he could steal in a hundred years. He bragged about how he was backed by the pope and how many heinous murders he had committed with impunity against those who displeased him. "This is the eighty-score house that has submitted to me," he said, "and here I will triumph, or I will be torn to pieces." "Ah," Heraclide replied with a heart-wrenching sigh, "are you meant to be a worse plague to me than the plague itself? Have I escaped God's grasp only to fall into the hands of a man? Hear me, Iehouah, and be merciful in ending my misery. Dispatch me immediately, you lawless murderer. Here lies my husband, stone cold on the damp floor. If you have more power than God, strike me swiftly, strike deep, send me to heaven with my husband. Alas, it is my honor you seek in the troubled departure of my soul; you are some devil sent to tempt me. Get away from me, Satan! My soul belongs to my Savior; I have entrusted it to him, and no one can take it from him. Jesus, Jesus, spare me undefiled for your spouse; Jesus, Jesus, never fail those who trust in you." With that, she fainted, and as her eyes closed, it seemed to release new pearls of pain that the world had never seen before. Soon he roughly revived her and told her that he had authority above scripture, and she must yield—she should yield; see who would dare take her from his grasp. Between life and death, she weakly replied, "Do you think there is a power above your power? If there is, he is here present in punishment, and he will bring punishment upon you if you continue this plan. In times of security, everyone sins, but when death sends one friend as his special agent to arrest another by infection, and scatters his arrows into ten thousand hands at once, who doesn't look around? A man who has an enormous stone hanging by a thread over his head, which he expects to fall and crush him into pieces, won’t he be humbly sorrowful for his transgressions, refrain from the slightest thought of folly, and purify his spirit with contrition and penitence? God's hand hangs above your head like a massive stone—you cannot escape it. What is the plague, but death acting as the sheriff to execute all those who won't return home by any other means? This dear knight's body is full of his arrows, which are already shot into you invisibly. Just as the age of goats is recognized by the knots on their horns, so does the anger of God manifest in the furrowing of my brow. I have buried a hundred from my house, at every departure I was present: a hundred infections are mixed with my breath; behold, now I breathe upon you, a hundred deaths come upon you. Repent in time; imagine there is a hell even if there isn’t a heaven. That hell, your conscience is well acquainted with, if you’ve murdered as many as you openly brag about. Just as Mocenas in the end of his days went seven years without sleep, so have I kept no slumber for these seven weeks; my eyes have remained alert against the devil, my enemy: death I considered my friend (friends flee from us in adversity), death, the devil, and all the spirits of temptation are surrounding you to trap your soul through my suffering into eternal damnation. It is your soul only that you can save by preserving my honor."
Death will haue thy bodie infallibly for breaking into my house, that he had selected for his priuate habitation. If thou euer camst of a woman, or hop'st to be sau'd by the seed of a woman, spare a woman. Deares oppressed with dogs, when they cannot take soyle, runne to men for succor: to whom should women in their disconsolate and desperate estate run, but to men like the Deare for succour and sanctuarie. If thou bee a man thou wilt succour me, but if thou be a dog & a brute beast, thou wilt spoile me, defile me & teare me: either renounce Gods image, or renounce the wicked minde that thou bearest.
Death will definitely claim your body for breaking into my house, which he had chosen as his private residence. If you ever came from a woman or hope to be saved by a woman's offspring, spare a woman. Deer, overwhelmed by dogs, when they can't find refuge, run to humans for help: to whom should women in their despair and desperation turn, but to men like the deer for protection and sanctuary? If you are a man, you will help me, but if you're a dog and a brute beast, you will ruin me, defile me, and tear me apart: either reject God's image, or reject the wicked mind that you carry.
These words might haue moou'd a compound hart of yron and adamant, but in his hart they obtained no impression: for he sitting in his chaire of state against the doore all the while that she pleaded, leaning his ouerhanging gloomie eybrowes on the pommell of his vnsheathed sword, hee neuer lookt vp or gaue her a word: but when he perceiued shee expected his answere of grace or vtter perdition, he start vp and took her currishly by the neck, and askt her how long he should stay for her Ladiship.
These words might have moved even a heart made of iron and stone, but in his heart, they made no impact. He sat in his throne by the door the whole time she pleaded, leaning his heavy, gloomy eyebrows on the hilt of his unsheathed sword. He never looked up or gave her a word. But when he realized she was waiting for his response, either gracious or utterly damning, he jumped up, grabbed her roughly by the neck, and asked her how long he should wait for her ladyship.
Thoutelst me (quoth he) of the plague, and the heauie hand of God, and thy hundred infected breaths in one: I tel thee I haue cast the dice an hundred times for the galleyes in Spaine, and yet still mist the ill chance. Our order of casting is this, If there bee a generall or captaine new come home from the warres, & hath some foure or fiue hundred crownes ouerplus of the kings in his hand, & his souldiors al paid, he makes proclamation, that whatsoeuer two resolute men will goe to dice for it, and win the bridle or lose the saddle, to such a place let them repaire, and it shall be ready for them. Thither go I & finde another such needie squire resident. The dice runne, I win, he is vndone. I winning haue the crownes, he loosing is carried to the galleys. This is our custome, which a hundred times and more hath paid mee custome of crownes, when the poore fellowes haue gone to Gehenna, had course bread and whipping chere all their life after. Now thinkest thou that I who so oft haue escapd such a number of hellish dangers, only depending on the turning of a few pricks, can be scarebugd with the plague? what plague canst thou name worse than I haue had? whether diseases, imprisonment, pouertie, banishment, I haue past through them all. My owne mother gaue I a box of the eare to, and brake her neck down a pair of stairs, because she would not go in to a gentleman, when I bad her: my sister I solde to an olde Leno, to make his best of her: anie kinswoman that I haue, knew I shee were not a whore, my selfe would make her one: thou art a whore, thou shalt bee a whore in spite of religion or precise ceremonies.
"Tell me about the plague," he said, "and the heavy hand of God, and your hundred infected breaths in one: I've thrown the dice a hundred times for the galleys in Spain, and still missed the bad luck. Here's how it works: if there's a general or captain returning home from the wars with around four or five hundred crowns left over from the king and his soldiers all paid, he makes an announcement that any two determined men who want to roll dice for it—win the bridle or lose the saddle—should go to a specific place where it will be ready for them. I go there and find another needy squire hanging around. The dice roll, I win, and he loses everything. I walk away with the crowns, and he is taken to the galleys. This is our tradition, which has earned me a hundred times over in crowns, while those poor guys have ended up in Gehenna, facing stale bread and punishment for the rest of their lives. Now, do you think that someone like me who has often avoided so many hellish dangers, relying only on the flick of a few dice, could be scared of the plague? What plague could you name worse than what I've already faced? Whether it's diseases, imprisonment, poverty, banishment, I've been through it all. I even slapped my own mother and accidentally broke her neck on the stairs because she wouldn’t go into a gentleman’s house when I told her to; I sold my sister to an old brothel owner to make the best of her; any female relative of mine, if I knew she wasn't a whore, I'd make her one myself. You are a whore, and you'll be a whore regardless of religion or strict ceremonies."
Therewith he flew vpon her, and threatned her with his sword, but it was not that he meant to wounde her with. Hee graspt her by the iuorie throate, and shooke her as a mastiffe would shake a yong beare, swearing & flaring he would teare out her wesand if she refused. Not content with that sauage constraint, he slipt his sacriligious hand from her lilly lawne skinned necke, and inscarfte it in her long siluer lockes, which with strugling were vnrould. Backward hee dragd her, euen as a man backward would plucke a tree downe by the twigs, and then like a traitor that is drawen to execution on a hurdle, he traileth her vp and downe the chamber by those tender vntwisted braids, and setting his barbarous foote on her bare snowie breast, bad her yeeld or haue her wind stampt out She crid, stamp, stifle me in my hair, hang me vp by it on a beame, and so let mee die rather than I shoulde go to heauen wyth a beame in my eie. No (quoth he) nor stampt, nor stifled, nor hanged, nor to heauen shalt thou go til I haue had my wil of thee, thy busie armes in these silken fetters Ile infold. Dismissing her haire from his fingers, and pinnioning her elbowes therwithal, she strugled, she wrested, but al was in vain. So strugling & so resisting, her iewels did sweate, signifieng there was poison comming towards her. On the hard boords hee threw her, and vsed his knee as an yron ram to beate ope the two leaude gate of her chastitie. Her husbands dead bodie he made a pillow to his abhomination. Coniecture the rest, my words sticke fast in the mire and are cleane tyred, would I had neuer vndertooke this tragicall tale. Whatsoeuer is borne is borne to haue end. Thus endeth my tale, his boorish lust was glutted, his beastly desire satisfied, what in the house of any worth was carriageable, he put vp and went his way.
He flew at her and threatened her with his sword, but he didn’t intend to hurt her. He grabbed her by the ivory throat and shook her like a dog would shake a young bear, swearing he would tear out her throat if she refused. Not satisfied with that brutal hold, he pulled his sacrilegious hand from her creamy neck and tangled it in her long silver hair, which came undone as she struggled. He dragged her backward, just as someone would pull a tree down by its branches, and like a traitor being led to execution, he pulled her up and down the room by those delicate, untwisted locks, and by placing his brutal foot on her bare, snowy chest, he demanded she yield or have her breath stamped out. She cried, "Stamp, stifle me in my hair, hang me up by it on a beam, and let me die rather than go to heaven with a beam in my eye." "No," he said, "you won’t be stamped, stifled, hanged, or go to heaven until I have what I want from you. I’ll wrap your busy arms in these silken restraints." He released her hair from his fingers, pinning her elbows with it, and she struggled, she wrestled, but it was all in vain. As she fought and resisted, her jewels began to sweat, signaling that danger was approaching. He threw her onto the hard floor and used his knee as a battering ram to break open the two locked gates of her chastity. He made the body of her dead husband a pillow for his abomination. Imagine the rest; my words are stuck in the mud and completely exhausted. I wish I had never undertaken this tragic tale. Whatever is born must come to an end. Thus ends my story; his coarse lust was satisfied, his beastly desire fulfilled, and whatever valuable things were in the house, he took and went on his way.
Let not your sorow die, you that haue read the proeme and narration of this elegiacal history. Shew you haue quick wits in sharpe conceit of compassion. A woman that hath viewd all her children sacrificed before her eies, & after the first was slaine wipt the sword with her apron to prepare it for the clenly murther of the second, and so on forwarde till came to the empiercing of the seuenteenth of her loines, will you not giue her great allowance of anguish. This woman, this matrone, this forsaken Heraclide, hauing buried fourteene children in fiue dayes, whose eyes she howlingly closed, and caught many wrinckles with funerall kisses: besides, hauing her husband within a day after layd forth as a comfortlesse corse, a carrionly blocke, that could neither eate with her, speak with her, nor weepe with her, is she not to be borne withall though her bodie swells wyth a tympanie of teares, though her speach be as impatient as vnhappy Hecubaes, though her head raues and her braine doates? Deuise with your selues that you see a corse rising from his heirce after hee is carried to Church, and such another suppose Heraclide to bee, rising from the couch of enforced adulterie.
Let not your sorrow fade away, you who have read the preface and story of this tragic history. Show that you have sharp wits in your deep understanding of compassion. A woman who has witnessed all her children sacrificed before her eyes, and after the first was killed wiped the sword with her apron to prepare it for the clean murder of the second, and so on until she faced the piercing of the seventeenth from her own body—will you not give her immense sympathy for her suffering? This woman, this mother, this forsaken Heraclide, having buried fourteen children in five days, whose eyes she closed with cries of mourning, and who has gained many wrinkles with funeral kisses; in addition, having had her husband laid out just a day later as a lifeless corpse, a lifeless block that could neither eat with her, speak with her, nor weep with her—shouldn’t we be forgiving of her though her body swells with a torrent of tears, though her speech is as frantic as the unfortunate Hecuba, though her mind rages and her brain wanders? Imagine you see a corpse rising from its grave after it has been taken to the church, and suppose Heraclide to be like that, rising from the bed of forced adultery.
Her eyes were dimme, her cheekes bloudlesse, her breath smelt earthie, her countenance was ghastly. Up she rose after she was deflowred, but loath she arose, as a reprobate soule rising to the day of iudgement. Looking on the tone side as she rose, she spide her husbands bodie lying vnder her head: Ah then she bewayled as Cephaius when hee had kild Procris vnwittingly, or Oedipus when ignorant he had slaine his owne father, and knowen his mother incestuously. This was her subdued reasons discourse.
Her eyes were dull, her cheeks colorless, her breath smelled earthy, and her face was horrifying. She got up after she was violated, but she rose reluctantly, like a damned soul on the day of judgment. As she got up and looked to the side, she spotted her husband's body lying beneath her head: Ah, then she wept like Cephalus when he unknowingly killed Procris, or like Oedipus when he realized he had killed his own father and unknowingly slept with his mother. This was her subdued reasoning’s expression.
Haue I liu'd to make my husbands bodie the beere to carry me to hell, had filthie pleasure no other pillowe to leane vpon but his spreaded limmes? On thy flesh my fault shall bee imprinted at the day of resurrection. O beauty, the bait ordained to insnare the irreligious: rich men are robd for theyr welth, women are dishonested for being too faire. No blessing is beautie but a curse: curst bee the time that euer I was begotten: curst be the time that my mother brought me forth to tempt. The serpent in paradice did no more, the serpent in paradice is damned sempiternally: why should not I hold my selfe damned (if predestinations opinions be true) that am predestinate to this horrible abuse. The hogge dieth presently if he loseth an eye: with the hogge haue I wallowed in the myre, I haue lost my eye of honestie, it is cleane pluckt out with a strong hand of vnchastitie: what remaineth but I dye? Die I will, though life be vnwilling: no recompence is there for mee to redeeme my compelled offence, but with a rigorous compelled death. Husband, He be thy wife in heauen: let not thy pure deceasing spirite despise me when we meete, because I am tyrannously polluted. The diuell, the belier of our frayltie, and common accuser of mankinde, cannot accuse me though he would of vnconstrained submitting. If anie guilt be mine, this is my fault, that I did not deforme my face, ere it shuld so impiously allure. Hauing passioned thus a while, she hastely ranne and lookt her selfe in her glasse to see if her sinne were not written on her forhead: with looking shee blusht though none lookt vpon her but her owne reflected image.
Have I lived to make my husband's body the bier to carry me to hell, had filthy pleasure no other pillow to lean on but his outstretched limbs? On your flesh, my fault will be marked on the day of resurrection. Oh beauty, the bait meant to ensnare the irreligious: rich men are robbed for their wealth, women are dishonored for being too beautiful. There’s no blessing in beauty, only a curse: cursed be the time I was ever conceived; cursed be the time my mother brought me forth to tempt. The serpent in paradise did no more; the serpent in paradise is damned forever: why shouldn’t I consider myself damned (if the ideas of predestination are true) being destined for this horrible abuse? The pig dies instantly if it loses an eye: with the pig, I have wallowed in the mud, I have lost my eye of honesty, it has been completely plucked out by the strong hand of unchastity: what remains but for me to die? Die I will, even if life is unwilling: there’s no way for me to redeem my forced offense, except with a harsh compelled death. Husband, I'll be your wife in heaven: let not your pure, departing spirit despise me when we meet, because I am tyrannically polluted. The devil, the accuser of our frailty, and common accuser of mankind, cannot accuse me even if he wanted to for submitting against my will. If any guilt is mine, it’s this: that I did not disfigure my face before it could so impiously tempt. After thinking this way for a while, she hurried to look at herself in the mirror to see if her sin was written on her forehead: with her gaze, she blushed even though no one was looking at her except her own reflected image.
Then began she againe. Heu quam difficile est crimen non prodere vultu; How hard is it not to bewray a mans fault by his forhead. My selfe doo but behold my selfe, and yet I blush: then God beholding me, shall not I bee ten times more ashamed? The Angells shall hisse at mee, the Saints and Martyrs flye from me: yea, God himselfe shall adde to the diuels damnation, because he suffred such a wicked creature to come before him. Agamemnon thou wert an infidell, yet when thou wentst to the Troian warre, thou leftst a Musitian at home with thy wife, who by playing the foote Spondous tyll thy returne, might keepe her in chastitie. My husband going to warre with the diuell and his enticements when hee surrendred, left no musition with me but mourning and melancholy: had he left anie, as Aegistus kild Agamemnons musition ere he could be succesfull, so surely would he haue been kild ere this Aegistus surceased. My distressed heart as the Hart when he looseth his homes is astonied, and sorrowfullie runneth to hide himselfe, so bee thou afflicted and distressed, hide thy selfe vnder the Almighties wings of mercie: sve, plead, intreate, grace is neuer denyed to them that aske. It may be denied, I may be a vessell ordained to dishonor. The onely repeale we haue from Gods vndefinite chastisement, is to chastise our selues in this world: and so I will, nought but death bee my pennance, gracious and acceptable may it bee: my hand and my knife shall manumit me out of the horror of minde I endure. Farewell life that hast lent me nothing but sorrow: farewell sinne sowed flesh, that hast more weeds than flowers, more woes than ioyes.
Then she began again. *Ah, how hard it is not to betray a man's fault by his face!* How difficult it is not to reveal a man's guilt through his expression. I just look at myself, and I blush; so if God sees me, won’t I be even more ashamed? The angels will mock me, the saints and martyrs will turn away from me: yes, God Himself will add to the devil's damnation because He allowed such a wicked person to come before Him. *Agamemnon*, you were an infidel, yet when you went to the Trojan war, you left a musician at home with your wife, who, by playing the *spondee* until your return, could keep her chaste. My husband, going to war with the devil and his temptations, left me no musician but mourning and melancholy: had he left one, just as *Aegisthus* killed *Agamemnon*'s musician before he could be successful, so surely would he have been killed already if *Aegisthus* had stopped. My distressed heart, like a deer losing its antlers, is stunned and sorrowfully runs to hide itself; so be you, afflicted and distressed, hide yourself under the Almighty's wings of mercy: pray, plead, intercede, grace is never denied to those who ask. It may be denied; I may be a vessel ordained for dishonor. The only relief we have from God's unending punishment is to punish ourselves in this world: and so I will; nothing but death shall be my penance, may it be gracious and acceptable: my hand and my knife shall free me from the horror of mind I endure. Farewell, life, that has given me nothing but sorrow: farewell, sinful flesh, that has more weeds than flowers, more woes than joys.
Point pierce, edge enwyden, I patiently affoord thee a sheath: spurre foorth my soule to mount poast to heauen. Jesu forgiue me, Jesu receiue me.
Point pierce, edge widen, I patiently offer you a sheath: spur forth my soul to rise quickly to heaven. Jesus forgive me, Jesus receive me.
So throughly stabd fell she downe, and knockt her head against her husbands bodie: wherewith, hee not hauing beene ayred his full foure and twentie houres, start as out of a dreame: whiles I through a crannie of my vpper chamber vnseeled, had beheld all this sad spectacle. Awaking, hee rubd his head too and fro, and wyping his eyes with his hand began to looke about him. Feeling some thing lye heauie on his breast, he turnd it off, and getting vpon his legges lighted a candle.
So, thoroughly stabbed, she fell down and hit her head against her husband’s body. He, not having slept a full twenty-four hours, jumped up as if out of a dream. I, through a crack in my upper chamber, had seen this whole sad scene unfold. Waking up, he rubbed his head back and forth, and wiping his eyes with his hand, he started to look around. Unable to shake off something heavy on his chest, he turned it aside and, getting to his feet, lit a candle.
Heere beginneth my purgatorie. For he good man comming into the hall with the candle, and spying his wife wyth her haire about her eares defiled and massacred, and his simple Zanie Capestrano run thorough, tooke a halberde in hys hand, and running from chamber to chamber to search who in his house was likely to doo it, at length found me lying on my bed, the doore lockt to me on the outside, and my rapier vnsheathed on the windowe: wherewith hee straight coniectured it was I. And calling the neighbours harde by, sayd I had caused my selfe to bee lockt into my chamber after that sort, sent awaye my curtizane whome I called my wife, and made cleane my rapier, because I would not bee suspected. Uppon this was I laide in prison, should haue been hanged, was brought to the ladder, had made a ballet for my farewell in a readines called Wiltons wantonnes, and yet for all that scap'd dancing in a hempen circle. He that hath gone through manie perils and returned safe from them, makes but a merriment to dilate them. I had the knot vnder my eare, there was faire playe, the hangman had one halter, and another about my necke, which was fastned to the gallowes, the riding deuice was almost thrust home, and his foote on my shoulder to presse me downe, when I made my saint-like confession as you haue heard before, that such & such men at such an houre brake into the house, slew the Zanie, tooke my curtizan, lockt me into my chamber, rauisht Heraclide, and finally how shee slew her selfe.
Here begins my purgatory. The good man came into the hall with a candle and saw his wife with her hair a mess and her face covered in blood, and his simple Zanie Capestrano stabbed. He grabbed a halberd and ran from room to room to find out who in his house could have done it, eventually finding me lying on my bed, the door locked from the outside, and my rapier drawn by the window. He immediately suspected me. Calling the neighbors nearby, he claimed I had locked myself in my room, sent away my mistress, whom I referred to as my wife, and cleaned my rapier so I wouldn’t be suspected. Because of this, I was thrown in prison, almost hanged, brought to the gallows, and was ready with my farewell song called "Wilton’s Wantonness," yet somehow escaped the noose. Anyone who has faced many dangers and come out safe knows it’s easy to laugh about them afterward. I had the noose under my ear, it was a fair game, the hangman had one rope, and another around my neck, secured to the gallows. The noose was almost tightened, and his foot was on my shoulder to push me down when I made my saint-like confession as you've heard, that such and such men broke into the house at such an hour, killed the Zanie, took my mistress, locked me in my room, raped Heraclide, and finally how she killed herself.
Present at the execution was there a banisht English Earle, who hearing that a countreyman of his was to suffer for such a notable murder, came to heare his confession, and see if hee knew him. He had not heard me tell halfe of that I haue recited, but hee craued audience, and desired the execution might be staid.
Present at the execution was a banished English Earl, who, upon hearing that a fellow countryman was about to be punished for such a significant murder, came to hear his confession and see if he recognized him. He had not heard me share half of what I had recounted, but he requested to speak and asked that the execution be postponed.
Not two dayes since it is Gentlemen and noble Romanes (said he) since going to be let bloud in a barbars shop agaynst the infection, all on a suddaine in a great tumult and vproare was there brought in one Bartoll an Italian greeuously wounded and bloudie. I seeming to commiserate his harmes, courteously questiond him with what ill debters he had met, or how or by what casualtie he came to be so arraid. O quoth he long I haue liu'd sworne brothers in sensualitie with one Esdras of Granado, fiue hundred rapes and murders haue wee committed betwixt vs. When our iniquities were growen to the height, and God had determined to counterchecke our amitie, wee came to the house of Iohannes de Imola (whom this yong gentleman hath named) there did he iustifie al those rapes in manner and forme as the prisoner here hath confest. But loe an accident after, which neither he nor this audience is priuie too. Esdras of Granado not content to haue rauisht the matrone Heraclide and robd her, after he had betooke hym from thence to his heeles, light on his companion Bartol with his curtizan: whose pleasing face hee had scarce winkingly glaunc'd on, but hee pickt a quarrell with Bartoll to haue her from him. On this quarrell they fought Bartoll was wounded to the death, Esdras fled, and the faire dame left to go whither she would. This Bartoll in the barbars shoppe freely acknowledged, as both the barbar and his man, and other heere present can amply depose. Deposed they were, their oathes went for currant, I was quit by proclamation, to the banisht Earle I came to render thankes: when thus he examind me and schoold me.
Not two days ago, gentlemen and noble Romans, he said, as I was about to get a bloodletting at a barber's shop for an infection, there was suddenly a great commotion, and in came one Bartoll, an Italian, badly injured and bleeding. Seeing his injuries, I kindly asked him how he had gotten into such trouble or what had happened to him. He replied, "I've long been a sworn brother in debauchery with one Esdras of Granado; we've committed five hundred rapes and murders together. When our sins reached their peak, and God decided it was time to end our friendship, we went to the house of Johannes de Imola (whom this young gentleman has mentioned). There, he justified all those rapes just as the prisoner here has confessed. But here’s an incident afterward that neither he nor this audience knows about: Esdras of Granado, not satisfied with having raped and robbed the matron Heraclide, after he had run away, encountered his companion Bartoll with his mistress. He had hardly seen her without any disguise when he picked a fight with Bartoll to take her from him. They fought over this quarrel; Bartoll was mortally wounded, Esdras fled, and the beautiful lady left to go wherever she pleased. Bartoll in the barber's shop freely admitted this, as both the barber and his assistant, along with others here, can fully testify. They testified under oath, which was accepted; I was cleared by proclamation, and I went to thank the banished Earl when he questioned and scolded me.
Countriman, tell mee what is the occasion of thy straying so farre out of England to visit this strange Nation. If it bee languages, thou maist learne them at home, nought but lasciuiousnes is to be learned here. Perhaps to be better accounted of than other of thy condition, thou ambitiously vndertakest this voyage: these insolent fancies are but Icarus fethers, whose wanton wax melted against the sunne, will betray thee into a sea of confusion. The first traueller was Cayn, and hee was called a vagabond runnagate on the face of the earth. Trauaile like the trauaile wherein smithes put wilde horses when they shoo them, is good for nothing but to tame and bring men vnder. God had no greater curse to lay vppon the Israelites, than by leading them out of their owne countrey to liue as slaues in a strange land. That which was their curse, we Englishmen count our chief blessednes; he is no body that hath not traueld: wee had rather liue as slaues in another land, croutch and cap, and bee seruile to euerie iealous Italians and proude Spaniards humor, where wee may neyther speake looke nor doo anie thing, but what pleaseth them, than liue as freemen and Lords in our owne countrey. He that is a traueller must haue the backe of an asse to beare all, a tung like the tayle of a dog to flatter all, the mouth of a hog to eate what is set before him, the eare of a merchant to heare all and say nothing: and if this be not the highest step of thraldome, there is no libertie or freedome. It is but a milde kind of subiection to be the seruant of one master at once, but when thou hast a thousand thousand masters, as the veriest botcher, tinker or cobler freeborne wil dominere ouer a forreiner, & think to bee his better or master in company: then shalt thou finde theres no such hell, as to leaue thy fathers house (thy natural habitation) to liue in the land of bondage. If thou doest but lend halfe a looke to a Romans or Italians wife, thy porredge shall bee prepared for thee, and cost thee nothing but thy life. Chance some of them breake a bitter iest on thee, and thou retortst it seuerly, or seemest discontented: goe to thy chamber, & prouide a great banquet, for thou shalt bee sure to bee visited with guests in a maske the next night, when in kindnes and courtship thy throate shalbe cut, and the doers returne vndiscouered. Nothing so long of memorie as a dog, these Italians are old dogs, and will carrie an iniurie a whole age in memorie: I haue heard of a box on the eare that hath been reuenged thirtie yeare after. The Neopolitane carrieth the bloudiest wreakfull minde, and is the most secrete flearing murderer. Whereupon it is growne to a common prouerb, He giue him the Neapolitan shrug, when one meanes to play the villaine, and makes no boast of it.
Countryman, tell me why you've strayed so far from England to visit this strange nation. If it's languages you're after, you can learn them at home; here, you'll only pick up immorality. Maybe you’re ambitious and want to be seen as better than others like you by making this journey. But those arrogant thoughts are just Icarus feathers—silly dreams that will ultimately lead you to confusion. The first traveler was Cain, labeled a wandering fugitive on the earth. Travel, like the way blacksmiths manage wild horses when they shoe them, serves no purpose other than to subdue and control people. God had no worse curse for the Israelites than to lead them out of their own country to live as slaves in a foreign land. What was their curse, we English view as our greatest blessing; anyone who hasn't traveled is nobody. We'd rather live as slaves elsewhere, bowing and scraping, serving the jealous Italians and proud Spaniards, where we can’t speak, look, or do anything that doesn’t please them, than live as free men and lords in our own country. A traveler must have the patience of a donkey to bear everything, a tongue like a dog's tail to flatter everyone, the appetite of a hog to eat whatever's put in front of him, and the ears of a merchant to listen to everything and remain silent; if that’s not the highest form of servitude, then freedom or liberty doesn’t exist. It's one kind of subservience to serve one master, but when you have thousands of masters, even the most lowly tradesman will look down on a foreigner and think he's better or is in charge. Then you’ll find there’s no greater hell than leaving your father’s house (your natural home) to live in bondage. If you so much as glance at a Roman or Italian's wife, your porridge will be served—though it may cost you your life. If one of them cracks a bitter joke at your expense and you respond sharply or seem unhappy, head to your room and prepare a big feast because you can be sure you’ll be visited by masked guests the next night, who will kindly slit your throat while leaving no trace. Nothing retains a grudge like a dog; these Italians are old dogs who will remember an insult for a lifetime. I've heard of a slap that was avenged thirty years later. The Neapolitan has the bloodiest, most vengeful mindset and is often the most secretive, sly murderer. Hence, it has become a common saying to give someone the Neapolitan shrug when one intends to act villainously without boasting about it.
The onely precept that a traueller hath most vse of, and shall finde most ease in, is that of Epicharchusy Vigila & memor sis ne quid credos; Beleeue nothing, trust no man: yet seeme thou as thou swallowedst all, suspectedst none, but wert easie to be gulled by euery one. Multi fallere docuerunt (as Seneca saith) dum timent falli; Many by showing their iealous suspect of deceit, haue made men seek more subtill meanes to deceiue them.
The only rule that a traveler finds most useful and easy to follow is that of Epicharchus, Vigil and remember not to believe anything; Believe nothing, trust no one: yet act as if you swallow it all, suspect no one, but seem easy to trick by everyone. Many have learned to deceive (as Seneca says) because they fear being deceived; Many, by showing their jealous suspicion of deceit, have caused others to seek more cunning ways to deceive them.
Alas, our Englishmen are the plainest dealing soules that euer God put life in: they are greedie of newes, and loue to be fed in their humors and heare themselues flattered the best that may be. Euen as Philemon a Comick Poet dyde with extreame laughter at the conceit of seeing an Asse eate fygges: so haue the Italians no such sport, as to see poore English asses how soberly they swallow Spanish figges deuour any hooke baited for them. He is not fit to trauell, that cannot with the Candians liue on serpents, make nourishing foode euen of poyson. Rats and mice engender by licking one another, he must licke, he must croutch, he must cogge, lye and prate, that either in the Court or a forraine Countrey will engender and come to preferment. Bee his feature what it will, if he be faire spoken he winneth frends: Nonformosus erat, sed erat facundus Vlysses; Vlysses the long traueller was not amiable, but eloquent. Some alleadge, they trauell to learne wit, but I am of this opinion, that as it is not possible for anie man to learne the Arte of Memorie, whereof Tully, Quintillian, Seneca, and Hermannus Buschius haue written so manie bookes, except he haue a naturall memorie before: so is it not possible for anie man to attaine anie great wit by trauell, except he haue the grounds of it rooted in him before. That wit which is thereby to be perfected or made stayd, is nothing but Experientia longa malorum; The experience of manie euills: the experience that such a man lost his life by this folly, another by that: such a young Gallant consumed his substance on such a Curtizan: these courses of reuenge a Merchant of Venice tooke against a Merchant of Ferrara: and this poynt of iustice was shewed by the Duke vppon the murtherer. What is heere but wee maye read in bookes and a great deale more too, without stirring our feete out of a warme studie.
Unfortunately, our Englishmen are the most straightforward souls that God ever brought to life. They are eager for news and love to be indulged in their moods, enjoying the best flattery they can get. Just like Philemon, a comic poet, laughed heartily at the sight of a donkey eating figs, the Italians take the greatest pleasure in watching poor English folks soberly swallow Spanish figs, devouring any bait set for them. One isn’t fit to travel if they can’t, like the Cretans, live on snakes and make nourishing food even from poison. Rats and mice reproduce by licking each other, so one must flatter, crouch, deceive, lie, and chat to get ahead in court or a foreign country. No matter their appearance, if they are eloquent, they make friends: "Ulysses was not handsome, but he was eloquent." Some claim they travel to gain wisdom, but I believe that just as it’s impossible for anyone to learn the art of memory without having a natural memory already, which many great writers have discussed, it’s also impossible for anyone to gain significant wit through travel unless they have a foundation of it already within them. The wit that may be refined through travel is nothing more than long experience of troubles: the knowledge that one person lost their life due to one folly, another by another, or that some young man squandered his wealth on some courtesan, or how a merchant from Venice took revenge on a merchant from Ferrara, and the justice shown by the Duke against the murderer. What’s here that we can’t read in books—and much more—without stepping out of a warm study?
Vobis alii ventorum prolia narrent, (saith Ouid) Quasq; Scilla infestat, quasue Charybdis aquas. Let others tell you wonders of the winde, How Scalla or Charybdis is enclinde.
Let others tell you about the wonders of the winds, (says Ovid) which Scylla threatens and Charybdis swallows. Let other people describe the amazing things about the winds, how Scylla and Charybdis are connected.
—vos quod quisque loquetur Credite —Beleeue you what they say, but neuer trie.
—Believe what each person says —Believe what they say, but never test it.
So let others tell you straunge accidents, treasons, poysonings, close packings in Frounce, Spaine and Italy: it is no harme for you to heare of them, but come not neere them. What is there in Fraunce to be learnd more than in England, but falshood in fellowship, perfect slouenrie, to loue no man but for my pleasure, to sweare Ah par la mort Dieu when a mans hammes are scabd. For the idle Traueller, (I meane not for the Souldiour) I haue knowen some that haue continued there by the space of halfe a dozen yeare, and when they come home, they haue hyd a little weerish leane face vnder a broad French hat, kept a terrible coyle with the dust in the streete in their long cloakes of gray paper, and spoke English strangely. Nought else haue they profited by their trauell, saue learnt to distinguish of the true Burdeaux Grape, and knowe a cup of neate Gascoygne wine, from wine of Orleance : yea and peraduenture this also, to esteeme of the poxe as a pimple, to weare a veluet patch on their face, and walke melancholy with their armes folded.
So let others share strange stories about accidents, betrayals, poisonings, and secret dealings in France, Spain, and Italy: it doesn't hurt to hear about them, but don't get too close. What is there in France to learn that's better than in England besides dishonesty in friendship, complete laziness, loving no one but for my own pleasure, and swearing Ah par la mort Dieu when a man’s limbs are injured? For the idle traveler, (I’m not talking about soldiers), I’ve known some who stayed there for half a dozen years, and when they came home, they had a slightly worn-down, lean face under a wide French hat, made a big fuss with the dust in the street in their long cloaks of gray paper, and spoke English in a strange way. They gained nothing else from their travels, except learning to recognize the true Bordeaux grape and telling apart a glass of fine Gascoygne wine from Orleance wine: yes, and maybe this too, to consider the pox like a pimple, to wear a velvet patch on their face, and walk around moody with their arms crossed.
From Spaine what bringeth our Traueller? a scull cround hat of the fashion of an olde deepe poringer, a diminutiue Aldermans ruffe with shorte strings like the droppings of a mans nose, a close-bellied dublet comming downe with a peake behinde as farre as the crupper, and cut off before by the breast-boane like a partlet or neckercher, a wyde payre of gascoynes which vngatherd would make a couple of womens ryding kyrtles, huge hangers that haue halfe a Cowe hyde in them, a Rapyer that is lineally descended from halfe a dozen Dukes at the least. Let his cloake be as long or as short as you will: if long, it is fac'd with Turkey grogeran raueld; if short, it hath a cape like a calues tung, and is not so deep in his whole length, nor hath so much cloth in it I will iustifie, as onely the standing cape of a Dutchmans cloake. I haue not yet toucht all, for hee hath in eyther shoo as much taffaty for his tyings, as would serue for an ancient: which serueth him (if you will haue the mysterie of it) of the owne accord for a shoo-rag. A souldior and a braggart he is (thats concluded) he ietteth strouting, dancing on his toes with his hands vnder his sides. If you talke with him, hee makes a dish-cloath of his owne Countrey in comparison of Spaine; but if you vrge him more particularly wherein it exceeds, hee can giue no instance, but in Spaine they haue better bread than any we haue: when (poore hungry slaues) they may crumble it into water wel enough and make misons with it, for they haue not a good morsell of meate except it bee salt pilchers to eate with it al the yere long: and which is more, they are poore beggers, and lye in foule straw euery night.
From Spaine, what does our traveler bring? A skull-cap hat that's shaped like an old deep porringer, a tiny alderman's ruff with short strings like runny nose drops, a close-fitting doublet that comes down to a peak in the back as far as the butt, and cut off in front at the chest like a partlet or neckerchief, a wide pair of gascoynes that, if unfolded, could make a couple of women’s riding skirts, huge hangers that can hold half a cowhide, and a rapier that's directly descended from at least half a dozen dukes. Let his cloak be as long or as short as you like: if long, it’s faced with Turkish grograins; if short, it has a cape like a calf's tongue and isn’t as deep in its entire length, nor does it have as much fabric in it, I would argue, as just the standing cape of a Dutchman’s cloak. I haven’t covered everything yet, for he has as much taffeta for his ties in each shoe as would be enough for an ancient: which serves him (if you want the secret of it) as a shoe rag by choice. He's a soldier and a braggart (that’s settled), strutting about and dancing on his toes with his hands on his hips. If you talk to him, he makes a dishcloth of his own country compared to Spaine; but if you press him more specifically on how it’s better, he can’t give any examples, except that in Spaine they have better bread than we do: when (poor hungry souls) they can crumble it into water well enough to make mush with it, since they don’t have a decent piece of meat unless it's salted fish to eat with it all year long: and what’s more, they are poor beggars, sleeping on filthy straw every night.
Italy the paradice of the earth, and the Epicures heauen, how doth it forme our yong master? It makes him to kisse his hand like an ape, cringe his neck like a starueling, and play at hey passe repasse come aloft when hee salutes a man. From thence he brings the art of atheisme, the art of epicurising, the art of whoring, the art of poysoning, the art of Sodomitrie. The onely probable good thing they haue to keepe vs from vtterly condemning it, is, that it maketh a man an excellent Courtier, a curious carpet knight; which is by interpretation, a fine close leacher, a glorious hypocrite. It is now a priuie note amongst the better sort of men, when they would set a singular marke or brand on a notorious villaine, to say, he hath been in Italy.
Italy, the paradise of the earth and the Epicureans' heaven, how has it shaped our young master? It makes him kiss his hand like an ape, cringe his neck like a starving person, and act all fancy when he greets someone. From there, he brings back the art of atheism, the art of indulgence, the art of seduction, the art of poisoning, and the art of perversion. The only decent thing they have to keep us from completely condemning it is that it turns a man into an excellent courtier, a refined socialite; which basically means a smooth talker and a grand hypocrite. It has become a private joke among respectable people that when they want to put a distinctive mark on a notorious villain, they just say, "he's been to Italy."
With the Dane and the Dutchman I will not encounter, for they are simple honest men, that with Danaus daughters do nothing but fill bottomles tubs, & wil be drunk & snort in the midst of dinner: he hurts himselfe onely that goes thether, hee cannot lightly be damnd, for the vintners, the brewers, the malt-men and alewiues praye for him. Pitch and pay, they will play all day: score and borrow, they will wysh him much sorrowe. But lightly a man is nere the better for their praiers, for they commit al deadly sinne for the most part of them in mingling their drinke, the vintners in the highest degree.
I won’t be dealing with the Dane and the Dutchman because they are just simple, honest guys who, like the daughters of Danaus, do nothing but fill bottomless tubs and get drunk while snorting in the middle of dinner. The only one who hurts himself by going there is the one who does, and it’s hard for him to be damned since the vintners, brewers, maltsters, and alewives are all praying for him. They pay and play all day: they score and borrow, wishing him all kinds of trouble. But a man rarely benefits from their prayers because most of them commit all sorts of deadly sins by mixing their drinks, with the vintners being the worst offenders.
Why iest I in such a necessary perswasiue discourse? I am a banisht exile from my countrie, though nere linkt in consanguinitie to the best: an Earle borne by birth, but a begger now as thou seest. These many yeres in Italy haue I liu'd an outlaw. A while I had a liberall pension of the Pope, but that lasted not, for he continued not: one succeeded him in his chaire, that car'd neither for Englishmen nor his owne countrimen. Then was I driu'n to picke vp my crums amongst the Cardinals, to implore the beneuolence & charitie of al the Dukes of Italy whereby I haue since made a poore shift to liue, but so liue, as I wish my selfe a thousand times dead.
Why am I in such a necessary persuasive discussion? I’m an exiled outcast from my country, though I’m not related to the best. I was born an Earl, but now I’m a beggar, just as you see. For many years in Italy, I’ve lived as an outlaw. For a time, I had a generous pension from the Pope, but that didn’t last because he didn’t continue. One of his successors in the chair didn’t care for Englishmen or his own countrymen. Then I was forced to scrape together what I could among the Cardinals, begging for kindness and charity from all the Dukes of Italy. Since then, I’ve made a poor attempt to survive, but I live in such a way that I wish a thousand times to be dead.
Cumpatriam amisi, tunc me periisse putato. When I was banisht, thinke I caught my bane.
Cumpatriam amisi, tunc me periisse putato. When I was banished, I felt like I had lost everything.
The sea is the natiue soyle to fishes, take fishes from the sea, they take no ioy nor thriue, but perish straight. So likewise the birds remoued from the aire (the abode wherto they were borne) the beasts from the earth, and I from England. Can a lambe take delight to be suckled at the brests of a she-wolfe? I am a lambe nourisht with the milke of wolues, one that with the Ethiopians inhabiting ouer against Meroe, feede on nothing but scorpions: vse is another nature, yet ten times more contentiue, were nature restored to her kingdome from whence shee is excluded. Beleeue mee, no aire, no bread, no fire, no water agree with a man, or dooth him anye good out of his owne countrey. Colde frutes neuer prosper in a hot soile, nor hot in a cold. Let no man for any transitorie pleasure sell away the inheritance of breathing he hath in the place where he was born. Get thee home my yong lad, lay thy bones peaceably in the sepulcher of thy fathers, waxe old in ouerlooking thy grounds, bee at hand to close the eyes of thy kinred. The diuell and I am desperate, he of being restored to heauen, I of being recalled home.
The sea is the natural home to fish; take fish out of the sea, and they find no joy or thrive, but perish immediately. Similarly, birds removed from the air, beasts taken from the earth, and I from England. Can a lamb enjoy being fed by a she-wolf? I am a lamb raised on the milk of wolves, one who, like the Ethiopians living across from Meroe, feeds on nothing but scorpions. Habit becomes another nature, yet it would be ten times more fulfilling if nature were restored to her rightful place from which she has been excluded. Believe me, no air, no food, no fire, no water agree with a person or benefit him outside his own country. Cold fruits never thrive in a hot climate, nor do hot fruits in a cold one. Let no one sell the inheritance of life he has in the place where he was born for any fleeting pleasure. Go home, young lad, lay your bones peacefully in the tomb of your ancestors, grow old watching over your land, and be there to close the eyes of your relatives. The devil and I are both desperate, he for being restored to heaven, I for being called back home.
Here he held his peace and wept. I glad of any opportunitie of a full poynt to part from him, told him I tooke his counsaile in worth, what laye in mee to requite in loue should not bee lacking. Some businesse that concerned mee highly cald mee away verie hastely, but another time I hop'd wee should meete. Verie hardly he let me goe, but I earnestly ouerpleading my occasions, at length he dismist mee, told mee where his lodging was, and charged mee to visite him without excuse very often.
Here he stayed quiet and cried. I, glad for any chance to get away from him, told him I valued his advice and would repay his kindness with love. Some urgent business that involved me pulled me away quickly, but I hoped we would meet again. He was reluctant to let me go, but I patiently explained my reasons until he finally dismissed me, told me where he was staying, and insisted that I should visit him often without excuse.
Heeres a stirre thought I to my selfe after I was set at libertie, that is worse than an vpbrayding lesson after a britching: certainly if I had bethought mee like a rascall as I was, hee should haue had an auemarie of mee for his cynicke exhortation. God plagud mee for deriding such a graue fatherly aduertiser. List the worst throw of ill luckes.
Here's a thought I had after I was set free, and it’s worse than a scolding lesson after a spanking: if I had been as foolish as I was, he would have received a piece of my mind for his cynical advice. I regret mocking such a serious, fatherly figure. Just list the worst streak of bad luck.
Tracing vp and downe the City to seeke my Curtizan till the euening began to growe well in age, it fortuned, the Element as if it had dronke too much in the afternoone, powrde downe so profoundly, that I was forst to creepe like one afraid of the Watch close vnder the pentises, where the cellar doore of a Jewes house called Zadoch (ouer which in my direct waye I did passe) beeing vnbard on the inside, ouer head and eares I fell into it as a man falls in a ship from the oreloope into the holde: or as in an earthquake the ground should open, and a blinde man come feeling pad pad ouer the open Gulph with his staffe, should stumble on sodaine into hell. Hauing worne out the anguish of my fall a little with wallowing vp and downe, I cast vp myne eyes to see vnder what Continent I was: and loe, (O destenie) I sawe my Curtizane kissing verie louingly with a prentise. My backe and my sides I had hurt with my fall, but now my head sweld & akt worse than both. I was euen gathering winde to come vpon her with a full blast of contumely, when the Jewe (awakde with the noyse of my fall) came bustling downe the staires, and raysing his other semants, attached both the Curtizane and mee for breaking his house, and conspiring with his prentise to rob him.
Searching up and down the city for my girlfriend until the evening started to age, it happened that the sky, as if it had drunk too much in the afternoon, poured down so heavily that I had to creep like someone afraid of the watchmen, staying close under the awnings. As I passed by the entrance of a Jewish house called Zadoch (which was directly in my path), the door was unbarred on the inside, and I fell straight into it, like a person falling from a ship's deck into the hold: or like how, during an earthquake, the ground might open and a blind man, feeling his way over the open chasm with his cane, suddenly stumbles into hell. After I had worn off some of the pain from my fall by rolling around, I looked up to see what land I was under: and lo, (oh destiny) I saw my girlfriend kissing very affectionately with an apprentice. I had hurt my back and sides in my fall, but now my head ached worse than both. I was just gathering my breath to confront her with a full blast of insults when the Jew (awakened by the noise of my fall) came bustling down the stairs, and raising his other servants, accused both the girlfriend and me of breaking into his house and conspiring with his apprentice to rob him.
It was then the lawe in Rome, that if anie man had a fellon falne into his hands, eyther by breaking into his house, or robbing him by the high way, hee might choose whether he would make him his bondman, or hang him. Zadoch (as all Jewes are couetous) casting with himselfe hee should haue no benefite by casting mee off the ladder, had another policie in his head: hee went to one Doctour Zacharie the popes phisition, that was a Jewe and his Countreyman likewise, and tolde him hee had the finest bargaine for him that might bee. It is not concealed from mee (sayth he) that the time of your accustomed yearely Anatomie is at hand, which it behooues you vnder forfeiture of the foundation of your Colledge verie carefully to prouide for. The infection is great, and hardly will you get a sound bodie to deale vpon: you are my Countreyman, therefore I come to you first. Bee it knowen vnto you, I haue a young man at home falne to me for my bondman, of the age of eighteene, of stature tall, streight limm'd, of as cleere a complection as anie painters fancie can imagine: goe too, you are an honest man, and one of the scattered Children of Abraham you shall haue him for fiue hundred crownes. Let mee see him quoth Doctour Zacharie, and I will giue you as much as another. Home hee sent for mee, pinniond and shackeld I was transported alongst the streete: where passing vnder Iulianaes the Marques of Mantuaes wiues window, that was a lustie Bona Roba one of the popes concubines, as she had her casement halfe open, she lookt out and spide me. At the first sight she was enamored with my age and beardles face, that had in it no ill signe of phisiognomie fatall to fetters: after me shee sent to know what I was, wherein I had offended, and whether I was going? My conducts resolued them all. She hauing receiued this answere, with a lustfull collachrimation lamenting my Jewish Premunire, that bodie and goods I should lyght into the hands of such a cursed generation, inuented the meanes of my release.
In Rome, the law stated that if a person caught a felon breaking into their house or robbing them on the highway, they could choose to either make the felon their slave or hang him. Zadoch, being as greedy as all Jews are said to be, figured he wouldn't benefit from throwing me off the ladder and had a different plan. He went to a doctor named Zacharie, the Pope's physician, who was also a Jew and from the same country, and told him he had a great deal to offer. “I know your yearly anatomy session is coming up, and you need to make provisions for it to avoid jeopardizing your college,” he said. “The demand is high, and it will be hard to find a healthy body. Since you’re my fellow countryman, I’m coming to you first. I have a young man at home who has become my slave. He’s eighteen, tall, well-built, and has a complexion as clear as any painter could dream up. Come on, you’re a good guy, and as one of Abraham's scattered children, you can have him for five hundred crowns.” “Show him to me,” said Doctor Zacharie, “and I’ll offer you the same as anyone else.” He then sent for me, and I was shackled and brought through the street. As we passed under the window of Juliana, the wife of the Marquis of Mantua, who happened to be a lively mistress of the Pope, she looked out since her window was half-open and spotted me. At first sight, she was captivated by my youth and clean-shaven face, which showed no bad signs for someone destined for chains. She sent someone to ask who I was, what I had done wrong, and where I was being taken. My escorts explained it all. Upon receiving this information, she lamented my unfortunate fate, expressing her disdain that my body and goods would fall into the hands of such a cursed generation, and she devised a way to secure my freedom.
But first Ile tel you what betided me after I was brought to Doctour Zacharies.
But first, I’ll tell you what happened to me after I was taken to Doctor Zacharies.
The purblinde Doctour put on his spectacles and lookt vppon mee: and when he had throughly viewd my face, he caused mee to bee stript naked, to feele and grope whether each lim were sound, and my skin not infected. Then hee pierst my arme to see how my bloud ranne: which assayes and searchings ended, he gaue Zadoch hys full price and sent him away, then lockt mee vp in a darke chamber till the day of anatomie.
The nearly blind doctor put on his glasses and looked at me. After he thoroughly examined my face, he had me stripped naked to check if each limb was healthy and my skin was free of infection. Then he punctured my arm to see how my blood flowed. Once those tests were done, he paid Zadoch his full fee and sent him away, then locked me up in a dark room until the day of the anatomy lesson.
O the cold sweating cares which I conceiued after I knew I should be cut like a French summer dublet. Me thought already the bloud began to gush out at my nose: if a flea on the arme had but bit me, I deemed the instrument had prickt me. Well, well, I maye scofle at a shrowde turne, but theres no such readye waye to make a man a true Christian, as to perswade himselfe he is taken vp for an anatomie. Ile depose I praid then more than I did in seauen yeare before. Not a drop of sweate trickeled downe my breast and my sides, but I dreamd it was a smooth edgde razor tenderly slicing down my breast and my sides. If any knockt at doore.
Oh, the cold sweat of worry that hit me after I realized I was going to be cut like a summer coat in France. I thought my blood was already starting to pour out of my nose; if a flea on my arm even bit me, I assumed the instrument had jabbed me. Well, well, I can joke about a rough situation, but there's no easier way to make someone a true Christian than to convince them they are about to be used for an anatomy lesson. I swear I prayed then more than I did in seven years before. Not a single drop of sweat ran down my chest and sides without me imagining it was a sharp razor gently slicing into me. If anyone knocked at the door.
I supposed it was the beadle of Surgeons Hall come for mee. In the night I dreamd of nothing but Phlebotomie, bloudy fluxes, incamatiues, running vlcers. I durst not let out a wheale for feare through it I should bleed to death. For meate in this distance I had plum-porredge of purgations ministred mee one after another to clarifie my bloud, that it should not lye doddered in the flesh. Nor did he it so much for clarifying phisicke, as to saue charges. Miserable is that mouse that liues in a Phisitions house, Tantalus liues not so hunger-starud in hell, as shee doth there. Not the very crams that fall from his table, but Zachary sweepes together, and of them mouldes vp a Manna. Of the ashie parings of his bread, he would make conserue of chippings. Out of boanes after the meate was eaten off, hee would alchumize an oyle, that he sold for a shilling a dramme. His snot and spittle a hundred tymes he hath put ouer to hys Apothecarie for snowe water. Any Spider he would temper to perfect Mithridate. His rheumatique eyes when he went in the winde, or rose early in a morning, dropt as coole allom water as you would request. He was dame Niggardize sole heyre and executor.
I thought it was the beadle from the Surgeons' Hall coming for me. At night, I dreamed only of bloodletting, bloody fluxes, ulcers, and running sores. I didn’t dare let out a wheal for fear that I would bleed to death. As for food, I had plum porridge of purgatives served to me one after another to clarify my blood, so it wouldn’t get stuck in my flesh. He didn’t do this so much for health as to save money. It’s a miserable existence for a mouse living in a physician’s house; not even Tantalus suffers from hunger in hell like she does there. Not even the scraps that fall from his table, but Zachary collects them and turns them into something edible. He would make a preserve out of the crusty bits of his bread. After the meat was gone, he would turn the bones into oil, which he sold for a shilling a dram. He has sent his snot and spit to the apothecary a hundred times as snow water. Any spider, he would turn into perfect antidote. His rheumatic eyes, when exposed to the wind or when he got up early in the morning, dripped as cool as alum water whenever you needed it. He was the sole heir and executor of Dame Niggard.
A number of olde bookes had he eaten with the moathes and wormes, now all daye would not hee studye a dodkin, but picke those wormes and moathes out of his Librarie, and of their mixture make a preseruatiue against the plague. The licour out of his shooes he would wring to make a sacred balsamum against barrennes. Spare we him a line or two, & looke backe to Iuliana, who conflicted in hir thoughts about me verie debatefully, aduentured to send a messenger to Doctour Zacharie in her name, verie boldly to beg me of him, and if shee might not beg me, to buy me with what summes of monie soeuer he would aske. Zacharie iewishly and churlishly withstood both her sutes, and sayde if there were no more Christians on the earth, he would thrust his incision knife into his throate-boule immediatly. Which replie she taking at his hands most despitefully, thought to crosse him ouer the shins with as sore an ouertwhart blow yet ere a moneth to an end. The pope (I knowe not whether at her intreatie or no) within two dayes after fell sicke, Doctor Zacharie was sent for to minister vnto him, who seeing a little danger in his water, gaue him a gentle confortatiue for the stomack, and desired those neere about him to perswade his holynes to take some rest, and hee doubted not but he would be forthwith well. Who should receiue this mild phisicke of him but the concubine Iuliana his vtter enimie, shee beeing not vnprouided of strong poison at that instant, in the popes outward chamber so mingled it, that when his grande sublimitie taster came to relish it, he sunke downe starke dead on the pauement. Herewith the pope cald Iuliana, and askt her what strong concocted broth she had brought him. She kneeled downe on her knees, and sayd it was such as Zacliarie the Jew had deliuered her with his owne hands, and therefore if it misliked his holines she craued pardon. The Pope without further sifting into the matter, woulde haue had Zacharie and all Jewes in Rome put to death, but shee hung about his knees, & with crocodile teares desired him the sentence might bee lenified, and they bee all but banisht at most. For doctor Zacliary quoth she, your ten times vngrateful phisition, since notwithstanding his trecherous intent, he hath much art, and many soueraigne simples, oiles, gargarismes and sirups in his closet and house that may stand your mightines in stead, I begge all his goods onely for your beatitudes preseruation and good. This request at the first was seald with a kisse, and the popes edict without delaye proclaimed throughout Rome, namely, that all foreskinne clippers whether male or female belonging to the old Jurie, should depart and auoyde vpon payne of hanging within twentie dayes after the date thereof.
A number of old books he had eaten with the moths and worms, and all day long he wouldn’t study a bit, but instead picked those worms and moths out of his library and used their mixture to make a remedy against the plague. He would wring the liquid from his shoes to create a sacred balm against infertility. Spare him a line or two, and let’s look back at Iuliana, who wrestled with her thoughts about me quite seriously, daringly sending a messenger to Doctor Zacharie in her name, boldly asking him to give me to her, and if he wouldn’t give me, to buy me for whatever sums of money he would ask. Zacharie grudgingly resisted both her pleas, saying that if there were no more Christians on earth, he would immediately stab himself in the throat. She received this response from him with great disdain and planned to strike him hard across the shins with a brutal blow before the month ended. The pope (I don't know whether at her request or not) fell ill within two days, and Doctor Zacharie was called to attend to him. Upon seeing a bit of danger in his urine, he gave him a gentle remedy for his stomach and urged those nearby to persuade his holiness to rest, believing he would soon feel better. Who should receive this mild treatment but the concubine Iuliana, his sworn enemy? She, having some strong poison at that moment, mixed it in so that when his highness's taster sampled it, he collapsed dead on the floor. The pope then called Iuliana and asked her what potent broth she had brought him. She dropped to her knees and said it was what Zacharie the Jew had given to her with his own hands, and if it displeased his holiness, she asked for forgiveness. Without digging any deeper into the matter, the pope wanted Zacharie and all Jews in Rome executed, but she clung to his knees and, with crocodile tears, begged him to soften the sentence and merely have them all banished at most. For Doctor Zacharie, she said, your ever-ungrateful physician, despite his treacherous intent, possesses much knowledge, and many healing herbs, oils, mouthwashes, and syrups in his home that may be of great use to you, so I ask for all his goods solely for your well-being and safety. This request was initially sealed with a kiss, and the pope’s decree was quickly proclaimed throughout Rome, stating that all circumcisers, male or female, belonging to the old Jewish community, must leave and avoid within twenty days of the date issued, or face hanging.
Iuliana two dayes before the proclamation came out, sent her seruants to extend vppon Zacharies territories, his goods, his mooueables, his chattels and his seruants: who perfourmed their commission to the vtmost title, and left him not so much as master of an vrinall case or a candle boxe. It was about sixe a clocke in the euening, when those boot-halers entred: into my chamber they rusht, when I sate leaning on my elbow, and my left hand vnder my side, deuising what a kinde of death it might be to be let bloud till a man dye. I cald to minde the assertion of some Philosophers, who said the soule was nothing but bloud: then thought I, what a filthie thing were this, if I should let my soule fall and breake his necke into a bason. I had but a pimple rose with heate in that part of the veyne where they vse to pricke, and I fearfully misdeemed it was my soule searching for passage. Fie vppon it, a mans breath to bee let out a backe-doore, what a villanie it is? To dye bleeding is all one as if a man should dye pissing. Good drink makes good bloud, so that pisse is nothing but bloud vnder age. Seneca and Lucan were lobcockes to choose that death of all other: a pigge or a hogge or anie edible brute beast a cooke or a butcher deales vpon, dyes bleeding. To dye with a pricke, wherewith the faintest hearted woman vnder heauen would not be kild, O God it is infamous.
Iuliana, two days before the announcement was made, sent her servants to seize all of Zacharies possessions—his property, his movable goods, his furniture, and his servants. They carried out their task thoroughly, leaving him with nothing, not even a chamber pot or a candle holder. It was around six in the evening when those thieves burst in. I was sitting in my room, propped up on my elbow, with my left hand under my side, contemplating what it might feel like to bleed to death. I remembered what some philosophers claimed: that the soul was nothing but blood. Then I thought, how disgusting would it be if my soul fell and broke its neck in a bowl? I had only a small pimple that was inflamed in the spot where they usually draw blood, and I fearfully imagined it was my soul looking for a way out. How awful is it for a man's breath to be let out through the backdoor? Dying from bleeding is just like dying from urinating. Good drinks make good blood, so urine is just immature blood. Seneca and Lucan were fools to choose that death over all others: a pig, a hog, or any edible animal that a cook or butcher handles dies from bleeding. To die from a prick, something that even the most timid woman wouldn't die from, oh God, that's disgraceful.
In this meditation did they seaze vpon mee, in my cloake they muffeld mee that no man might knowe mee, nor I see which waye I was carried. The first ground I toucht after I was out of Zacharies house, was the Countesse Iulianaes chamber: little did I surmise that fortune reserued mee to so faire a death. I made no other reckoning all the while they had mee on their shoulders, but that I was on horse-backe to heauen, and carried to Church on a beere, excluded for euer for drinking anie more ale or beere. Iuliana scornfully questiond them thus (as if I had falne into her hands beyond expectation), what proper apple-squire is this you bring so suspitiously into my chamber? what hath he done? where had you him? They aunswered likewise a farre of, that in one of Zacharies chambers they found him close prisoner, and thought themselues guiltie of the breach of her Ladiships commaundement if they should haue left him behinde. O quoth she, ye loue to bee double diligent, or thought peraduenture that I being a lone woman stood in neede of a loue. Bring you me a princockes beardlesse boy (I knowe not whence hee is, nor whether he would) to call my name in suspense? I tell you, you haue abused me, and I can hardly brook it at your hands. You should haue lead him to the Magistrate, no commission receiued you of me but for his goods and his seruants. They besought her to excuse their ouerweening errour, it proceeded from a zealous care of their duetie, and no negligent default But why should not I coniecture the worst quoth she? I tell you troth, I am halfe in a iealozie hee is some fantasticall amorous yonckster, who to dishonor me hath hyr'd you to this stratagem. It is a likely matter that such a man as Zacharie should make a prison of his house, and deale in matters of state. By your leaue sir gallant, vnder locke and key shal you stay with me, till I haue enquirde further of you, you shall be sifted thoroughly ere you and I part Goe maide shew him to the further chamber at the ende of the gallerie that lookes into the garden: you my trim pandars I pray garde him thether as you tooke paines to bring him hether. When you haue so done, see the dores be made fast, and come your way. Heere was a wily wench had her liripoop without book, she was not to seeke in her knackes and shifts: such are all women, not one of them but hath a cloak for the raine, and can bleare her husbands eyes as she list. Not too much of this madam Marques at once: wele step a little backe, and dilate what Zadoch the Jew did with my curtizan, after he had sold me to Zacharie. Of an ill tree I hope you are not so ill sighted in grafting to expect good frute: he was a Jew, & intreated her like a Jew. Under shadow of enforcing her to tell how much money she had of his prentice so to bee trayned to his cellar, hee stript her, and scourgd her from top to toe tantara. Day by day hee disgested his meate with leading her the measures. A diamond Delphinicall drye leachour it was.
In this meditation, they seized me; in my cloak, they wrapped me up so that no one could recognize me, and I couldn’t see where I was being taken. The first place I touched after I left Zachary's house was the Countess Juliana's chamber: I had no idea that fate had reserved me for such a beautiful death. I made no other assumptions while they carried me on their shoulders, except that I was riding to heaven on horseback and being taken to church on a bier, forever excluded from drinking any more ale or beer. Juliana scornfully questioned them (as if I had unexpectedly fallen into her hands), “What proper beardless boy is this that you bring so suspiciously into my chamber? What has he done? Where did you find him?” They answered from a distance that they discovered him locked up in one of Zachary's rooms, and they felt guilty for breaching her ladyship's command by leaving him behind. "Oh," she exclaimed, "you love to be overly diligent, or perhaps you thought that I, being a lone woman, needed a lover. You bring me a pretty boy—I don’t even know where he’s from or whether he wants to stay—to call my name in suspense? I tell you, you’ve wronged me, and I can hardly accept it from you. You should have taken him to the magistrate; I gave you no orders other than to handle his property and his servants." They begged her to forgive their overzealous mistake, explaining that it stemmed from their enthusiastic sense of duty, not negligence at all. "But why shouldn’t I suspect the worst?" she replied. "Honestly, I am half worried he’s some fanciful, amorous young man who has hired you to dishonor me with this scheme. It’s ridiculous to think that someone like Zachary would turn his house into a prison and get involved in state matters. Excuse me, sir gallant, but you will stay locked up with me until I have questioned you further; you will be thoroughly examined before you and I part. Go, maid, show him to the further chamber at the end of the gallery that overlooks the garden: you my fashionable friends, please guard him there just as you took the effort to bring him here. Once you’ve done that, make sure the doors are locked and then leave. Here was a clever girl who knew her craft well; she wasn’t naive about her tricks and tactics: all women are like that; not one of them lacks a raincoat and knows how to keep their husbands in the dark as they please. Not too much from you, Madam Marques, at once: let’s step back a little and elaborate on what Zadoch the Jew did with my courtesan after he sold me to Zachary. I hope you have enough sense not to expect good fruit from a bad tree in grafting: he was a Jew and treated her like a Jew. Under the guise of forcing her to reveal how much money she had from his apprentice so he could bring her to his cellar, he stripped her and whipped her from head to toe. Day by day, he enjoyed his meals while leading her in the dance. He was a diamond of a lecher, sharp-witted and dry.
The ballet of the whipper of late dayes here in England, was but a scoffe in comparison of him. All the colliers of Romford, who hold their corporation by yarking the blind beare at Paris garden, were but bunglers to him, he had the right agility of the lash, there were none of them could made the cord come aloft with a twange halfe like him. Marke the ending, marke the ending. The tribe of Juda is adiudged from Rome to bee trudging, they may no longer be lodged there, all the Albumazers, Rabisacks, Gedeons, Tebiths, Benhadads, Benrodans, Zedechiahs, Halies of them were banquerouts and turnd out of house and home. Zacharie came running to Zadochs in sack cloth and ashes presently after his goods were confiscated and tolde him how he was serued, and what decree was comming out against them all. Descriptions stand by, heere is to be expressed the furie of Lucifer when he was turnd ouer heauen barre for a wrangler. There is a toad fish, which taken out of the water swels more than one would thinke his skin could holde, and bursts in his face that toucheth him. So swelled Zadoch, and was readie to burst out of his skinne, and shoote his bowels like chaine-shot full at Zacharies face for bringing him such balefull tidings, his eies glared and burnt bliewe like brimstone and aqua vito set on fire in an egshell, his verie nose lightned glow-wormes, his teeth crasht and grated together, like the ioynts of a high building cracking and rocking like a cradle, when as a tempest takes her full but against his broad side. He swore, he curst, and said, these be they that worshippe that crucifide God of Nazareth, heres the fruits of their newfound gospell, sulphur and gunpouder carry them all quick to Gehenna. I would spend my soule willingly, to haue this triple headed Pope with all his sin-absolued whores, and oile-greased priests borne with a blacke sant on the deuills backes in procession to the pit of perdition. Would I might sinke presently into ye earth, so I might blow vp this Rome, this whore of Babylon into the aire with my breath. If I must be banisht, if those heathen dogs will needes rob me of my goods, I wyll poyson their springs and conduit heades, whence they receiue all their water round about the citie, He tice all the yong children into my house that I can get, and cutting their throates barrell them vp in poudring beefe tubbes, and so send them to victuall the popes galleyes. Ere the officers come to extend, Ile bestowe a hundred pound on a doale of bread, which Ile cause to bee kneaded with Scorpions oy le that may kill more than the plague. Ile hire them that make their wafers or sacramentarie gods to minge them after the same sort, so in the zeale of their superstitious religion, shall they languish and droup like carrion. If there be euer a blasphemous coniurer, that can call the windes from their brazen caues, and make the cloudes trauell before their time, Ile giue him the other hundred pounds to disturbe the heauens a whole weeke together with thunder and lightning, if it bee for nothing but to sowre all the wines in Rome, and turne them to vinegar. As long as they haue either oyle or wine, this plague feedes but pinglingly vpon them.
The ballet of the whip of late days here in England was just a joke compared to him. All the coal workers of Romford, who keep their business by messing around at Paris Gardens, were just amateurs to him; he had the real skill with the whip, and none of them could crack the cord with a twang like he could. Pay attention to the ending, pay attention to the ending. The tribe of Judah has been judged from Rome to be exiled; they can no longer stay there. All the Albumazers, Rabisacks, Gedeons, Tebiths, Benhadads, Benrodans, Zedekiahs, and Hales among them were bankrupt and turned out of their homes. Zacharie came running to Zadochs in sackcloth and ashes right after his possessions were seized and told him how he was treated and what decree was coming down against them all. Descriptions are ready; here we express the fury of Lucifer when he was cast out of heaven for being a troublemaker. There’s a toadfish that, when taken out of the water, swells more than you’d think its skin could hold, bursting at the touch. Zadoch swelled up too, ready to explode out of his skin and hurl his insides at Zacharies for bringing him such terrible news. His eyes glared and burned blue like brimstone and burning aqua vitae in an eggshell. His very nose glowed like fireflies, his teeth ground and grated together like the joints of a tall building cracking and swaying under a storm's force. He swore, cursed, and said, “These are the ones who worship that crucified God of Nazareth; here are the fruits of their new gospel: sulfur and gunpowder, may they all be sent alive to hell. I’d willingly spend my soul to see this three-headed Pope with all his sin-forgiving whores and oil-slick priests carried on the devil's back in a procession to the pit of damnation. If only I could sink into the ground right now and blow this Rome, this whore of Babylon, into the air with my breath. If I must be exiled, if those heathen dogs have to rob me of my possessions, I will poison their springs and water sources from which they get all their water around the city. I’ll lure all the young children into my house that I can find, and after cutting their throats, stash them in barrels like salted beef, and send them to supply the Pope's galleys. Before the authorities come to take action, I’ll spend a hundred pounds on a batch of bread, which I’ll have kneaded with scorpion oil that can kill more than the plague. I’ll hire those who make their wafers or communion gods to mix them after the same fashion, so in the fervor of their superstitious faith, they will waste away like corpses. If there’s ever a blasphemous conjurer who can call the winds from their brass caves and make the clouds move before their time, I’ll give him the other hundred pounds to disturb the heavens for a whole week with thunder and lightning, if only to sour all the wines in Rome and turn them into vinegar. As long as they have either oil or wine, this plague only feeds sparingly on them.
Zadoch, Zadoch said Doctor Zacharie, (cutting him off) thou threatenest the aire, whiles wee perish heere on earth. It is the Countesse Iuliana the Marquesse of Mantuaes wife and no other, that hath complotted our confusion. Aske not how, but insist in my words, and assist in reuenge.
Zadoch, Zadoch said Doctor Zacharie, (interrupting him) you're disturbing the atmosphere while we suffer here on Earth. It’s the Countess Iuliana, the Marquis of Mantua's wife, and no one else, who has plotted our downfall. Don’t question how, just trust my words and help me seek revenge.
As how, as how, said Zadoch, shrugging and shrubbing. More happie than the Patriarches were I, if crusht to death with the greatest torments Romes tyrants haue tride, there might be quintessenst out of me one quart of precious poyson. I haue a leg with an issue, shall I cut it off, and from his fount of corruption extract a venome worse than anie serpents? If thou wilt, Ile goe to a house that is infected, where catching the plague, and hauing got a running sore vpon me, Ile come and deliuer her a supplication, and breathe vpon her. I know my breath stinkes so alreadie, that it is within halfe a degree of poyson. Ile pay her home if I perfect it with any more putrifaction.
"As how, as how," said Zadoch, shrugging and fidgeting. More happy am I than the Patriarchs, if crushed to death with the greatest torments that Rome's tyrants have tried, there might be just a quart of precious poison that came out of me. I have a leg that's infected; should I cut it off and from its source of corruption extract venom worse than any serpent’s? If you want, I'll go to a house that’s contaminated, and by catching the plague and getting a running sore on me, I'll come and deliver her a plea and breathe on her. I know my breath already stinks so much that it's within half a degree of poison. I'll really pay her back if I make it any more putrid.
No, no brother Zadoch answered Zacharie, that is not the way. Canst thou prouide mee ere a bondmaide, indued with singular & diuine qualified beautie, whome as a present from our synagogue thou maist commend vnto her, desiring her to be good and gracious vnto vs.
No, no brother Zadoch answered Zacharie, that's not the way. Can you find me a maid, blessed with unique and divine beauty, whom you can present to her as a gift from our synagogue, asking her to be good and gracious to us?
I haue, I am for you quoth Zadoch: Diamante come forth. Heeres a wench (said he) of as cleare a skin as Susanna, shee hath not a wemme on her flesh from the soale of the foote to the crowne of the head: how thinke you master doctor, will shee not serue the turne?
I have, I'm here for you, said Zadoch: Diamante, come out. Here’s a girl (he said) with as clear a complexion as Susanna; she doesn’t have a blemish on her skin from the sole of her foot to the crown of her head. What do you think, master doctor? Will she do the job?
She will, said Zacharie: and therefore Ile tell you what charge I would haue committed to her. But I care not if I disclose it onely to her. Maid, (if thou beest a maid) come hether to mee, thou must be sent to the countesse of Mantuaes about a small peece of seruice, whereby being now a bond woman thou shalt purchase freedome, and gaine a large dowrie to thy marriage. I know thy master loues thee derely though hee will not let thee perceiue so much, hee intends after hee is dead to make thee his heire, for he hath no children: please him in that I shall instruct thee, and thou art made for euer. So it is, that the pope is farre out of liking with the countesse of Mantua his concubine, and hath put his trust in me his phisition to haue her quietly and charitably made away. Now I cannot intend it, for I haue manie cures in hand which call vpon me hourely: thou if thou beest plac'd with her as her waiting maid or cup-bearer, maist temper poyson with her broth, her meate, her drinke, her oyles, her sirrups, and neuer bee bewraid. I will not say whether the pope hath heard of thee, and thou maist come to bee his lemman in her place, if thou behaue thy selfe wisely. What, hast thou the heart to go thorough with it or no? Diamante deliberating with her selfe in what hellish seruitude she liu'd with the Jew, and that she had no likelihood to be releast of it, but fall from euill to worse if she omitted this opportunitie, resigned her selfe ouer wholly to be disposed and emploid as seemed best vnto them. Therevpon, without further consultation, her wardrop was richly rigd, her tongue smooth fil'd & new edg'd on the whetstone, her drugs deliuerd her, and presented she was by Zadoch her master to the countesse, together with some other slight new-fangles, as from the whole congregation, desiring her to stand their merciful mistresse, and sollicite the Pope for them, that through one mans ignorant offence were all generally in disgrace with him, and had incurred the cruell sentence of losse of goods and of banishment.
She will, said Zacharie: and so I’ll share with you the task I wanted to give her. But I don't mind if I only tell her. Girl, (if you are indeed a girl) come here to me, you need to be sent to the countess of Mantua for a small assignment, which, by becoming a servant, will earn you your freedom and a substantial dowry for your marriage. I know your master cares for you deeply even though he doesn’t let you see it; he plans to make you his heir after he dies, since he has no children. If you please him in that, I will guide you, and you’ll be set for life. The situation is that the pope is very unhappy with the countess of Mantua, his mistress, and has trusted me, his physician, to discreetly and compassionately remove her from the picture. Now I can’t do it myself, as I have many patients to tend to who need me constantly: but if you are placed with her as her waiting maid or cupbearer, you could slip poison into her broth, her food, her drinks, her oils, her syrups, and never be suspected. I won’t say whether the pope has heard of you, but you could potentially become his mistress in her place if you conduct yourself wisely. So, do you have the courage to go through with it or not? Diamante, contemplating the terrible servitude she endured with the Jew and realizing she had no hope of escaping it, knowing things would only get worse if she missed this chance, completely surrendered herself to be used and organized as they saw fit. Therefore, without needing further discussion, her wardrobe was richly prepared, her speech was smooth and cleverly sharpened, her medicines arranged, and she was presented by Zadoch, her master, to the countess with some other minor offerings from the entire group, asking her to be their kind mistress and appeal to the Pope on their behalf, as one man's ignorant mistake had put them all in disgrace with him, incurring the harsh penalty of losing their goods and being banished.
Iuliana liking wel the pretie round face of my black browe Diamante, gaue the Jew better countenance than otherwise she would haue done, and told him for her owne part shee was but a priuate woman, and could promise nothing confidently of his holines: for though he had suffred himselfe to bee ouerruled by her in some humors, yet in this that tutcht him so nerely, she knew not how he would be enclind: but what lay in her either to pacifie or perswade him they should be sure of, and so crau'd his absence.
Iuliana really liked the pretty round face of my dark-haired Diamante, which made the Jew more favorable towards her than he might have been otherwise. She told him that, as a private woman, she couldn’t promise anything with certainty regarding his holiness. Even though he had allowed himself to be swayed by her in some moods, she didn't know how he would feel about this matter that affected him so closely. However, whatever she could do to calm or persuade him, she would ensure, and so she requested his absence.
His backe turnd, shee askt Diamante what countrey woman she was, what frends she had, and how shee fell into the hands of that Jew? She answered, that she was a Magnificoes daughter of Venice, stolne when she was yong from her frends, and sold to this Jew for a bondwoman, who (quoth she) hath vsde me so iewishly and tyrannously, that for euer I must celebrate the memorie of this day, wherein I am deliuered from his Jurisdiction. Alas (quoth she deep sighing) why did I enter into anie mention of my owne misusage? It will be thought that that which I am now to reueale, proceeds of mallice not truth. Madam, your life is sought by these Jewes that sue to you. Blush not, nor be troubled in your minde, for with warning I shall arme you against all their intentions. Thus and thus (quoth she) said doctor Zacharie vnto me, this poyson he deliuered me. Before I was cald in to them, such and such consultation through the creuise of the dore fast lockt did I heare betwixt them. Denie it if they can, I will iustifie it: onely I beseech you to be fauorable Ladie vnto me, and let me not fall againe into the hands of those vipers.
With his back turned, she asked Diamante what country she was from, what friends she had, and how she ended up in the hands of that Jew. She responded that she was a Magnifico's daughter from Venice, stolen when she was young from her friends, and sold to this Jew as a bondwoman, who (she said) has treated me so cruelly and tyrannically that I will forever remember this day as the one when I was freed from his control. Alas (she sighed deeply), why did I bring up my own suffering? It will be thought that what I am about to reveal comes from malice, not truth. Madam, your life is in danger from these Jews who are pursuing you. Don't blush or let it trouble you, for I will warn you and prepare you against all their intentions. Thus and thus (she said) doctor Zacharie told me, this poison he gave me. Before I was called in to them, I heard such and such discussions through the tightly locked door. Deny it if they can, I will prove it: I only ask that you be kind to me, lady, and do not let me fall into the hands of those vipers again.
Iuliana said little but thought vnhappely, onely she thankt her for detecting it, and vowed though she were her bond woman to be a mother vnto her. The poyson she tooke of her, and set it vp charily on a shelfe in her closet, thinking to keepe it for some good purposes: as for example, when I was consumed and worne to the bones through her abuse, she would giue me but a dram too much, and pop mee into a priuie. So shee had seru'd some of her paramours ere that, and if God had not sent Diamante to be my redeemer, vndoubtedly I had drunke of the same cup.
Iuliana said little but thought unhappily, only she thanked her for noticing it, and promised that even though she was her servant, she would be like a mother to her. She took the poison from her and carefully placed it on a shelf in her closet, planning to keep it for some good purposes: for example, when I was worn down to the bones from her mistreatment, she could give me just a little too much and throw me into a privy. She had done the same to some of her lovers before, and if God hadn’t sent Diamante to save me, I would have definitely drunk from the same cup.
In a leafe or two before was I lockt vp: heere in this page the foresaid goodwife Countesse comes to me, shee is no longer a iudge but a client. How she came, in what manner of attyre, with what immodest and vncomely words shee courted me, if I should take vpon me to enlarge, all modest eares would abhorre me. Some inconuenience she brought me too by her harlot-like behauiour, of which inough I can neuer repent me.
In a page or two before this, I was locked up: now in this page, the previously mentioned goodwife Countess comes to me; she’s no longer a judge but a client. How she arrived, what kind of outfit she wore, and the inappropriate and vulgar things she said to me; if I were to elaborate, all decent ears would be disgusted. She also brought me some trouble with her scandalous behavior, something I can never fully regret.
Let that bee forgiu'n and forgotten, fleshly delights could not make her slothfull or slumbring in reuenge against Zadoch. Shee set men about him to incense and egge him on in courses of discontentment, and other supervising espialls, to plye followe and spurre for-warde those suborning incensers. Both which playd their parts so, that Zadoch of his own nature violent, swore by the arke of Iehoua to set the whole citie on fire ere he went out of it. Zacharie after he had furnisht the wench with the poyson, and giu'n her instructions to goe to the diuell, durst not staye one houre for feare of disclosing, but fled to the Duke of Burbon that after sackt Rome, & there practised with his bastardship all the mischief against the pope and Rome that enuie could put into his minde. Zadoch was left behinde for the hangman. According to his oath, he prouided balls of wilde fire in a readines, and laid traines of gunpouder in a hundred seuerall places of the citie to blow it vp, which hee had set fire too, as also bandied his balls abroad, if his attendant spies had not taken him with ye manner. To the straightest prison in Rome he was dragged, where from top to toe he was clogd with fetters and manacles. Iuliana informed the pope of Zacharies and his practise, Zachary was sought for, but non est inuentus, he was packing long before. Commaundement was giu'n, that Zadoch whom they had vnder hand and seale of locke and key, should be executed with all the fiery torments that could be found out.
Let that be forgotten; physical pleasures couldn't make her lazy or drowsy in seeking revenge against Zadoch. She got people to provoke and encourage him in his discontent, and also had spies involved to keep pushing those instigators. Both played their roles so well that Zadoch, naturally violent, swore by the ark of Iehoua that he would set the whole city on fire before he left it. Zacharie, after supplying the woman with poison and giving her instructions to go to the devil, didn't dare to stay even an hour for fear of being discovered; he escaped to the Duke of Burbon, who later sacked Rome, and there plotted with his illegitimate son all the schemes against the pope and Rome that envy could inspire. Zadoch was left behind for execution. True to his oath, he prepared fireballs and laid gunpowder traps in hundreds of different places around the city to blow it up, and he had set them on fire, as well as distributed his fireballs, if his spying attendants hadn't caught him in the act. He was dragged to the tightest prison in Rome, where he was shackled from head to toe. Iuliana informed the pope about Zacharie and his plot. They looked for Zacharie, but he was already gone. Orders were given for Zadoch, who they had secured behind lock and key, to be executed with all the cruelest tortures that could be devised.
He make short worke, for I am sure I haue wearied all my readers. To the execution place was he brought, where first and formost he was stript, then on a sharpe yron stake fastened in the ground, had he his fundament pitcht, which stake ran vp along into his bodie like a spit, vnder his arme-hoales two of like sort, a great bonfire they made round about him, wherewith his flesh rosted not burnd: and euer as with the heate his skinne blistered, the fire was drawne aside, and they basted him with a mixture of Aqua fortis, allam water, and Mercury sublimatum, which smarted to the very soule of him, and searcht him to the marrowe. Then did they scourge hys backe parts so blistered and basted, with burning whips of red hot wire: his head they noynted ouer with pitch and tarre, and so enflamed it. To his priuie members they tied streaming fierworkes, the skinne from the crest of his shoulder, as also from his elbowes, his huckle bones, his knees, his ankles they pluckt and gnawd off with sparkling pincers: hys breast and his belly with seale skins they grated ouer, which as fast as they grated & rawed, one stoode ouer and lau'd with smithes cindry water and aqua vito: his nayles they halfe raised vp, and then vnderpropt them with Sharpe prickes like a taylers shop windowe halfe open on a holiday: euerie one of his fingers they rent vp to the wrist: his toes they brake off by the rootes, and let them still hang by a little skinne. In conclusion, they had a small oyle fire, such as men blow light bubbles of glasse with, and beginning at his feet, they let him lingringly burne vp limme by limme, till his hart was consumed, and then he died. Triumph women, this was the end of the whipping Jew, contriued by a woman, in reuenge of two women, her selfe and her maid.
He wrapped things up quickly, as I’m sure I’ve tired out all my readers. He was brought to the execution site, where he was first stripped and then impaled on a sharp iron stake fixed in the ground, which pierced into his body like a spit. Under his armpits, there were two similar stakes. They made a large bonfire around him, which roasted his flesh without burning it. As the heat caused his skin to blister, the fire was moved aside, and they basted him with a mixture of aqua fortis, alum water, and sublimated mercury, which stung him to his core. Then they whipped his blistered back with burning wires. They smeared pitch and tar on his head and lit it on fire. They tied fireworks to his private parts, and they ripped off the skin from his shoulders, elbows, hip bones, knees, and ankles with sparkling pincers. His chest and belly were scraped with seal skins, and as fast as they scraped and tore, someone stood over him and poured hot smith’s water and aqua vitae. They partially lifted his nails and propped them up with sharp spikes, like a tailor's shop window half open on a holiday. They tore each of his fingers up to the wrist, broke his toes off at the roots, leaving them hanging by small pieces of skin. In the end, they had a small oil fire, like the kind used to blow light glass bubbles, and starting at his feet, they slowly burned him limb by limb until his heart was consumed, and then he died. Rejoice, women! This was the fate of the whipped Jew, devised by a woman in revenge for two women: herself and her maid.
I haue told you or should tell you in what credit Diamante grew with her mistres. Iuliana neuer dreamed but she was an authenticall maide: she made her the chiefe of her bed chamber, she appointed none but her to looke into me, and serue me of such necessaries as I lacked. You must suppose when wee met there was no small reioycing on either part, much like the three Brothers that went three seuerall wayes to seeke their fortunes, and at the yeres end at those three crosse waies met againe, and told one another how they sped: so after we had been long asunder seeking our fortunes, wee commented one to another most kindly, what crosse haps had encountred vs. Nere a six houres but the Countesse cloyd mee with her companie. It grew to this passe, that either I must finde out some miraculous meanes of escape, or drop away in a consumption, as one pin'd for lacke of meate: I was cleane spent and done, there was no hope of me.
I have told you, or I should tell you, how much Diamante was favored by her mistress. Juliana never suspected she was anything but a genuine maid: she made her the head of her chamber, appointed no one else to look after me, and served me with whatever I needed. You should know that when we met, there was a lot of joy on both sides, much like the three brothers who set off in different directions to seek their fortunes and met again at the crossroads a year later to share their experiences: after being apart for a long time in search of our fortunes, we joyfully exchanged stories about the trials we faced. It had been barely six hours when the Countess overwhelmed me with her company. It got to the point where I either had to find some miraculous way to escape or fade away like someone wasting away from hunger: I was completely exhausted and done for; there was no hope left for me.
The yere held on his course to domes day, when Saint Peters day dawned. That day is a day of supreme solemnitie in Rome, when the Embassador of Spaine comes and presents a milke white iennet to the pope, that kneeles downe vppon his owne accord in token of obeisaunce and humilitie before him, and lets him stride on his backe as easie as one strides ouer a blocke: with this iennet is offered a rich purse of a yard length, full of Peter-pence. No musique that hath the gift of vtterance, but sounds all the while: coapes and costly vestments decke the hoarsest and beggerliest singing man, not a clarke or sexten is absent, no nor a mule nor a foote-cloth belonging to anie cardinall, but attends on the taile of the triumph. The pope himselfe is borne in his pontificalibus thorough the Burgo (which is the cheefe streete in Rome) to the Embassadors house to dinner, and thether resorts all the assembly: where if a Poet should spend all his life time in describing a banquet, he could not feast his auditors halfe so wel with words, as he doth his guests with iunkets.
The year continued on its course to doomsday, when Saint Peter’s day arrived. That day is one of great solemnity in Rome, when the Ambassador of Spain comes and presents a milk-white horse to the pope, who kneels down voluntarily as a sign of obedience and humility before him, allowing him to mount as easily as one would step over a block: along with this horse, a rich purse over a yard long, filled with Peter-pence, is offered. There’s music playing the entire time, and capes and elaborate vestments adorn even the poorest singers; no cleric or sexton is absent, and neither is a mule or a foot-cloth belonging to any cardinal, all following behind in the procession. The pope himself is carried in his ceremonial robes through the Burgo (the main street in Rome) to the Ambassador’s house for dinner, where everyone gathers: if a poet were to spend his entire life trying to describe a feast, he couldn't delight his audience with words as well as he does his guests with delicacies.
To this feast Iuliana addressed her selfe like an Angell: in a littour of greene needle-worke wrought like an arbor, and open on euerie side was she borne by foure men, hidden vnder cloth rough plushed and wouen like eglantine and wood-bine. At the foure corners it was topt with foure round christall cages of Nightingales. For foote men, on either side of her went foure virgins clad in lawne, with lutes in their hands playing. Next before her two and two in order, a hundred pages in sutes of white cipresse, and long horsemens coates of cloth of siluer: who being all in white, aduanced euery one of them her picture, enclosed in a white round screene of feathers, such as is carried ouer great Princesses heads when they ride in summer, to keepe them from the heate of the sun. Before the went a foure-score bead women she maintaind in greene gownes, scattring strowing hearbs and floures, After her followed the blinde, the halt and the lame sumptuously apparailed like Lords: and thus past she on to Saint Peters.
To this feast, Iuliana appeared like an angel: in a gown of green embroidery that looked like an arbor, and open on every side, she was carried by four men, hidden under a cloth rough and woven like wild rose and honeysuckle. At the four corners, it was topped with four round crystal cages containing nightingales. On either side of her walked four maidens dressed in sheer fabric, playing lutes. Next in front of her, two by two in formation, were a hundred pages in suits of white cypress and long coats made of silver cloth: all dressed in white, each one held up her portrait, enclosed in a white round screen made of feathers, similar to what is carried over great princesses' heads when they ride in summer to shield them from the sun's heat. Ahead of her walked eighty women in green gowns, scattering herbs and flowers. Following her were the blind, the halt, and the lame, lavishly attired like lords: and thus she made her way to Saint Peters.
Interea quid agitur donti, how ist at home all this while. My curtizan is left my keeper, the keyes are committed vnto her, she is mistres fac totunt. Against our countesse we conspire, packe vp all her iewels, plate, money that was extant, and to the water side send them: to conclude, couragiously rob her, and run away. Quid non auri sacra fames? What defame will not golde salue. Hee mistooke himselfe that inuented the prouerbe, Dimicandum est pro aris & fama: for it should haue been pro auro & fama: not for altares and fires we must contend, but for gold and fame.
Meanwhile, what's happening with the don? How has everything been at home? My mistress has left me as my keeper; the keys are in her hands, and she is the mistress of everything. We are conspiring against our countess, packing up all her jewels, silverware, and any cash we can find, and sending them down to the water. In short, we're boldly robbing her and then running away. What won't the cursed hunger for gold do? What disgrace won't gold fix? The person who came up with the saying, We must fight for our altars and our honor, got it wrong: it should have been for gold and honor. We shouldn't be fighting for altars and sacrifices, but for gold and fame.
Oares nor winde could not stirre nor blow faster, than we toyld out of Tiber; a number of good fellowes would giue size ace and the dice that with as little toyle they could leaue Tyburne behinde them. Out of ken we were ere the Countesse came from the feast When she returned and found her house not so much pestred as it was wont, her chests her closets and her cupbords broke open to take aire, and that both I and my keeper was missing: O then shee fared like a franticke Bacchinall, she stampt, she star'd, shee beate her head against the walls, scratcht her face, bit her fingers, and strewd all the chamber with her haire. None of her seuants durst stay in her sight, but she beate them out in heapes, and bad them goe seeke search they knew not where, and hang themselues, and neuer looke her in the face more, if they did not hunt vs out. After her furie had reasonably spent it selfe, her breast began to swell with the mother, caused by her former fretting & chafing, and she grew verie ill at ease. Whereuppon shee knockt for one of her maids, and had her run into her closet, and fetch her a little glasse that stood on the vpper shelfe, wherein there was spiritus vini. The maid went, & mistaking tooke the glasse of poyson which Diamante had giu'n her, and she kept in store for me. Comming with it as fast as her legs could carrie her, her mistres at her returne was in a swound, and lay for dead on the floore, wherat she shrikt out, and fel a rubbing & chafing her very busily. When that would not serue, she tooke a keye and opened her mouth, and hauing heard that spiritus vini was a thing of mightie operation, able to call a man from death to life, shee tooke the poyson, and verely thinking it to be spiritus vini (such as she was sent for) powrd a large quantitie of it into her throate, and iogd on her backe to disgest it. It reuiu'd her with a merrie vengeance, for it kilde her outright: only she awakend and lift vp her hands, but spake nere a word. Then was the maid in her grandames beanes, and knew not what should become of her: I heard the Pope tooke pitie on her, and because her trespasse was not voluntary but chancemedly, he assigned her no other punishment but this, to drinke out the rest of the poyson in the glasse that was left, and so goe scot-free. We carelesse of these mischances, helde on our flight, and saw no man come after vs but we thought had pursued vs. A theefe they say mistakes euerie bush for a true man, thewinde ratled not in anie bush by the way as I rode, but I straight drew my rapier. To Bolognia with a merrie gale wee posted, where wee lodged our selues in a blinde streete out of the way, and kept secret manie dayes: but when we perceiued we saild in the hauen, that the winde was layd, and no alarum made after vs, we boldly came abroad: & one day hearing of a more desperat murdrer than Cayn that was to be executed, we followed the multitude, and grutcht not to lend him our eyes at his last parting.
Neither oars nor wind could move faster than we escaped from the Tiber; a bunch of good guys would gamble and throw dice, so they could leave Tyburn behind with as little effort. We were out of sight before the Countess returned from the feast. When she got back and found her house not as cluttered as usual, with her chests, closets, and cupboards opened to air out, and both my keeper and I missing, she acted like a crazy Bacchanal. She stomped, stared, beat her head against the walls, scratched her face, bit her fingers, and scattered her hair all over the room. None of her servants dared stay in her sight, and she chased them away in droves, telling them to go find us wherever they could, to hang themselves, and never look her in the face again if they didn’t track us down. After her rage had calmed down a bit, her chest began to swell with anger from her previous fretting, and she started feeling very unwell. So she called for one of her maids to quickly go to her closet and fetch a little bottle on the top shelf that held spiritus vini. The maid rushed back but, mistaking the bottle, took the poison that Diamante had given her and was saving for me. When she returned as fast as she could, her mistress was faint and lay on the floor as if dead, which made her scream, and she started rubbing and shaking her vigorously. When that didn’t help, she used a key to open her mouth and, having heard that spiritus vini was powerful enough to bring a person back from the brink of death, mistakenly poured a large amount of the poison down her throat and patted her back to help digest it. It surprisingly revived her, but it killed her completely instead; she just woke up and raised her hands but couldn’t say a word. The maid was in a real mess and didn’t know what to do. I heard the Pope took pity on her; since her wrongdoing was unintentional, he imposed no other punishment on her but to finish the rest of the poison in the glass and let her go free. We, unconcerned with these mishaps, continued our escape and saw no one following us, or at least no one we thought was pursuing us. They say a thief mistakes every bush for someone real. The wind didn’t rustle any bushes while I rode, but I immediately drew my sword. We headed to Bologna with a cheerful breeze, where we hid ourselves in a backstreet for several days. But when we realized we were safe in the harbor, that the wind had died down, and there was no alarm raised after us, we boldly showed ourselves. One day, hearing about a more desperate murderer than Cain being executed, we joined the crowd and didn’t mind giving him our attention at his final moment.
Who should it bee but one Cutwolfe, a wearish dwarfish writhen fac'd cobler, brother to Bartoll the Italian, that was confederate with Esdras of Granado, and at that time stole away my curtizan, when he rauisht Heraclide.
Who should it be but a guy named Cutwolfe, a tired, dwarf-like cobbler with a twisted face, brother to Bartoll the Italian, who teamed up with Esdras from Granado, and at that time took my girlfriend when he grabbed Heraclide.
It is not so naturall for me to epitomize his impietie, as to heare him in his owne person speake vppon the wheele where he was to suffer.
It’s not as natural for me to summarize his wickedness as it is to hear him himself speak while on the wheel where he was to suffer.
Prepare your eares and your teares, for neuer till this thrust I anie tragicall matter vpon you. Strange and wonderfull are Gods iudgements, heere shine they in their glory. Chast Heraclide thy bloud is laid vp in heauens treasurie, not one drop of it was lost, but lent out to vsurie: water powred forth sinkes downe quietly into the earth, but bloud spilt on the ground sprinkles vp to the firmament. Murder is wide-mouthd, and will not let God rest till he grant reuenge. Not onely the bloud of the slaughtred innocent but the soule ascendeth to his throne, and there cries out & exclaimes for iustice and recompence. Guiltles soules that liue euerie houre subiect to violence, and with your despairing feares doo much empaire Gods prouidence: fasten your eyes on this spectacle that will adde to your faith. Referre all your oppressions afflictions and iniuries to the euen ballanced eye of the Almightie, hee it is, that when your patience sleepeth, will bee most exceeding mindfull of you.
Prepare your ears and your tears, because I have never presented any tragic story to you until this moment. Strange and wonderful are God's judgments; here they shine in their glory. Pure Heraclide, your blood is kept safe in heaven's treasury; not a single drop was lost, but instead lent out for usury. Water poured out sinks quietly into the earth, but blood shed on the ground rises up to the skies. Murder is loud and won't let God rest until He grants revenge. Not only does the blood of the slaughtered innocent cry out, but their souls ascend to His throne and call out for justice and recompense. Innocent souls that live every hour at risk of violence, and with your despairing fears, you undermine God's providence: focus your eyes on this spectacle that will strengthen your faith. Bring all your oppression, afflictions, and injuries to the perfectly balanced eye of the Almighty; He will be most mindful of you when your patience is asleep.
This is but a glose vpon the text: thus Cutwolfe begins his insulting oration.
This is just a commentary on the text: this is how Cutwolfe starts his insulting speech.
Men and people that haue made holy-daie to behold my pained flesh toile on the wheele. Expect not of me a whining penitent slaue, that shal do nothing but crie and saie his praiers, and so be crusht in peeces. My bodie is little, but my minde is as great as a Giants: the soule which is in mee, is the verie soul of Iulius Cosar by reuersion. My name is Cutwolfe, neither better nor worse by occupation, than a poore cobler of Verona, coblers are men and kings are no more. The occasion of my comming hether at this present, is to haue a fewe of my bones broken (as we are all borne to die) for being the death of the Emperour of homicides Esdras of Granado. About two yeares since in the streetes of Rome he slew the onely and eldest brother I had named Bartoll, in quarrelling about a curtizan. The newes brought to me as I was sitting in my shop vnder a stall knocking in of tackes, I think I raisd vp my bristles, solde pritchaule, spunge, blacking tub, and punching yron, bought mee rapier and pistoll, and to goe I went. Twentie months together I pursued him, from Rome to Naples, from Naples to Caiete passing ouer the riuer, from Caiete to Syenna, from Syenna to Florence, from Florence to Parma, from Parma to Pauia, from Pauia to Syon, from Syon to Geneua, from Geneua backe againe towards Rome: where in the way it was my chance to meet him in the nicke here at Bolognia, as I will tell you how. I saw a great fray in the streetes as I past along, and manie swords walking, wherevpon drawing neerer, and enquiring who they were, answer was returned mee it was that notable Bandetto Esdras of Granado. O so I was tickled in the spleene with that word, my heart hopt & daunst, my elbowes itcht, my fingers friskt, I wist not what should become of my feete, nor knew what I did for ioy. The fray parted. I thought it not conuenient to single him out (being a sturdie knaue) in the street, but to stay till I had got him at more aduantage. To his lodging I dogd him, lay at the dore all night where hee entred, for feare hee should giue me the slip anie way. Betimes in the morning I rung the bell and crau'd to speake with him: vp to his chamber dore I was brought, where knocking, hee rose in his shirt and let me in, and when I was entred, bad me lock the dore and declare my arrant, and so he slipt to bed againe.
Men and people who have taken a holy day to watch my suffering flesh labor at the wheel, don’t expect me to be a whiny, penitent slave who just cries and says his prayers, only to be crushed to pieces. My body is small, but my mind is as big as a giant's; the soul inside me is the very soul of Julius Caesar by reversion. My name is Cutwolfe, no better or worse by trade than a poor cobbler from Verona; cobblers are men, and kings are no different. The reason I'm here now is to have a few of my bones broken (as we are all meant to die) for being the death of the Emperor of Homicides, Esdras of Granado. About two years ago, in the streets of Rome, he killed my only and older brother, Bartoll, over a quarrel about a courtesan. When I heard the news while sitting in my shop under a stall hammering in tacks, I think I raised my hackles, sold my tools, sponge, blacking tub, and punching iron, bought myself a rapier and pistol, and set off. For twenty months, I chased him from Rome to Naples, from Naples to Caiete crossing the river, from Caiete to Syenna, from Syenna to Florence, from Florence to Parma, from Parma to Pauia, from Pauia to Syon, from Syon to Geneva, and back again towards Rome: where, on the way, I happened to meet him right here in Bologna, as I will explain. I saw a huge fight in the streets as I walked by, with many swords drawn, and as I got closer and asked who they were, I was told it was that infamous bandit Esdras of Granado. Oh, that word tickled me; my heart leaped and danced, my elbows itched, my fingers tingled, I didn't know what to do with my feet, nor did I know what I was doing out of joy. The fight broke up. I thought it best not to single him out (being a tough guy) in the street, but to wait until I had a better advantage. I followed him to his lodging, waited at the door all night so he wouldn’t slip away. Early in the morning, I rang the bell and asked to speak with him: I was taken up to his chamber door, where I knocked. He got up in his shirt and let me in, and when I was inside, he told me to lock the door and explain my purpose, and then he slipped back into bed.
Marrie this quoth I is my arrant Thy name is Esdras of Granado, is it not? Most treacherously thou slewst my brother Bartoll about two yeres agoe in the streetes of Rome: his death am I come to reuenge. In quest of thee euer since aboue three thousand miles haue I trauaild. I haue begd to maintaine me the better part of the waye, onely because I would intermit no time from my pursute in going backe for monie. Now haue I got thee naked in my power, die thou shalt, though my mother and my grandmother dying did intreate for thee. I haue promist the diuell thy soule within this houre, breake my word I will not, in thy breast I intend to burie a bullet. Stirre not, quinch not, make no noyse: for if thou dost it will be worse for thee. Quoth Esdras, what euer thou bee at whose mercie I lye, spare me, and I wil giue thee as much gold as thou wilt aske. Put me to anie paines my life reserued, and I willingly will sustaine them: cut off my armes and legs, and leaue me as a lazer to some loathsome spittle, where I may but liue a yeare to pray and repent me. For thy brothers death the despayre of minde that hath euer since haunted mee, the guiltie gnawing worme of conscience I feele may bee sufficient penaunce. Thou canst not send me to such a hell, as alreadie there is in my hart. To dispatch me presently is no reuenge, it wil soone be forgotten: let me dye a lingring death, it will be remembred a great deale longer. A lingring death maye auaile my soule, but it is the illest of ills that can befortune my bodie. For my soules health I beg my bodies torment: bee not thou a diuell to torment my soule, and send me to eternall damnation. Thy ouer-hanging sword hides heauen from my sight, I dare not looke vp, least I embrace my deaths-wound vnawares: I cannot pray to God, and plead to thee both at once. Ay mee, alreadie I see my life buried in the wrinckles of thy browes: say but I shall liue, though thou meanest to kill me. Nothing confounds like to suddaine terror, it thrusts euerie sense out of office. Poyson wrapt vp in sugred pills is but halfe a poyson: the feare of deaths lookes are more terrible than his stroake. The whilest I viewe death, my faith is deaded: where a mans feare is, there his heart is. Feare neuer engenders hope: how can I hope that heauens father will saue mee from the hell euerlasting, when he giues me ouer to the hell of thy furie.
"Marry, I say, your name is Esdras of Granado, right? You treacherously killed my brother Bartoll about two years ago in the streets of Rome: I have come to avenge his death. I have traveled over three thousand miles in search of you. I have begged for most of my journey just so I wouldn’t waste any time going back for money. Now I have you completely at my mercy; you will die, even if my mother and grandmother begged for your life before they died. I have promised the devil your soul within this hour; I won’t break my word. I intend to bury a bullet in your chest. Don’t move, don’t scream; if you do, it will be worse for you. Esdras replied, whoever you are who has me at your mercy, spare me, and I will give you as much gold as you want. Put me through any pain as long as you spare my life, and I will willingly endure it: cut off my arms and legs and leave me like a leper in some filthy place, as long as I can live for a year to pray and repent. I feel that the despair of mind haunting me since your brother's death, the guilty gnawing of my conscience, is enough punishment. You cannot send me to a worse hell than the one already in my heart. To kill me right now is not revenge; it will be forgotten quickly. Let me die a slow death; it will be remembered much longer. A lingering death may benefit my soul, but it is the worst fate for my body. For my soul's sake, I beg for my body's torment: do not be a devil to torment my soul and send me to eternal damnation. Your raised sword blocks heaven from my sight; I dare not look up, lest I unwittingly embrace my death wound. I cannot pray to God and plead with you at the same time. Alas, I already see my life buried in the wrinkles of your brow: just say I will live, even if you mean to kill me. Nothing confounds like sudden terror; it drives every sense away. Poison wrapped in sugary pills is only half poison: the fear of death is more terrifying than the blow itself. While I face death, my faith dies; where a man's fear is, there his heart is. Fear never brings forth hope: how can I hope that heaven's Father will save me from eternal hell when He gives me over to the hell of your fury?"
Heraclide, now thinke I on thy teares sowen in the dust (thy teares, that my bloudie minde made barraine). In reuenge of thee, God hardens this mans heart against mee: yet I did not slaughter thee, though hundreds else my hand hath brought to the shambles. Gentle sir, learne of mee what it is to clog your conscience with murder, to haue your dreames, your sleepes, your solitarie walkes troubled and disquieted with murther. Your shaddowe by daye will affright you, you will not see a weapon vnsheathd, but immediately you will imagine it is predestinate for your destruction.
Heraclide, now I think about your tears spilled in the dust (your tears that my bloody mind made barren). In revenge for you, God hardens this man’s heart against me: yet I did not kill you, even though my hand has sent hundreds to their deaths. Gentle sir, learn from me what it means to weigh down your conscience with murder, to have your dreams, your sleep, your solitary walks disturbed and unsettled by killing. Your shadow by day will frighten you, and you won’t see a weapon drawn without immediately thinking it’s meant for your destruction.
This murder is a house diuided within it selfe: it subornes a mans owne soule to informe against him: his soule (being his accuser) brings foorth his two eyes as witnesses agaynst him: and the least eye witnesse is vnrefutable. Plucke out my eyes if thou wilt, and depriue my trayterous soule of her two best witnesses. Digge out my blasphemous tongue with thy dagger, both tongue and eyes will I gladly forgoe, to haue a little more time to thinke on my iourney to heauen.
This murder creates a conflict within itself: it forces a man's own soul to testify against him. His soul, acting as his accuser, brings forth his two eyes as witnesses against him; even the smallest eye witness is undeniable. Take out my eyes if you must, and deprive my traitorous soul of its two best witnesses. Cut out my blasphemous tongue with your dagger; I would gladly give up both tongue and eyes to have a little more time to reflect on my journey to heaven.
Deferre a while thy resolution. I am not at peace with the world, for euen but yesterdaye I fought, and in my furie threatened further vengeaunce: had I face to face askt forgiuenesse, I should thinke halfe my sinnes were forgiuen. A hundred Diuells haunt mee daily for my horrible murders: the diuells when I dye will be loath to goe to hell with mee, for they desir'd of Christ he would not send them to hell before their time; if they goe not to hell, into thee they will goe, and hideously vexe thee for turning them out of their habitation. Wounds I contemne, life I prize light, it is another worlds tranquilitie which makes me so timerous: euerlasting damnation, euerlasting howling and lamentation. It is not from death I request thee to deliuer me, but from this terror of torments eternitie. Thy brothers bodie onely I pierst vnaduisedly, his soule meant I no harme too at all: my bodie & soule both shalt thou cast awaye quite, if thou doost at this instant what thou maist Spare me, spare me I beseech thee: by thy owne soules saluation I desire thee, seeke not my soules vtter perdition: in destroying me, thou destroyest thy selfe and me.
Hold off on your decision for a bit. I'm not at peace with the world, because just yesterday I fought and in my rage threatened more revenge. If I had asked for forgiveness face to face, I think half of my sins would be forgiven. A hundred devils haunt me every day for my terrible murders: the devils, when I die, will be reluctant to go to hell with me, because they asked Christ not to send them there before their time; if they don’t go to hell, they will enter you and torment you horribly for driving them out of their home. I disregard wounds, but I value life lightly; it is the calm of another world that makes me so fearful: everlasting damnation, endless howling and lamenting. I am not asking you to save me from death, but from this terror of eternal torment. I only pierced your brother’s body accidentally; I meant no harm to his soul at all: both your body and soul you will completely cast away if you do what you can right now. Spare me, please: by the salvation of your own soul, I ask you, do not seek my soul’s utter destruction: in destroying me, you destroy both yourself and me.
Eagerly I replide after his long suppliant oration; Though I knewe God would neuer haue mercie on mee except I had mercie on thee, yet of thee no mercie would I haue. Reuenge in our tragedies continually is raised from hell: of hell doo I esteeme better than heauen, if it affoord me reuenge. There is no heauen but reuenge. I tell thee, I would not haue vndertooke so much toyle to gaine heauen, as I haue done in pursuing thee for reuenge. Diuine reuenge, of which (as of the ioyes aboue) there is no fulnes or satietie. Looke how my feete are blistered with following thee from place to place. I haue riuen my throat withouerstraining it to curse thee. I haue grownd my teeth to pouder with grating and grinding them together for anger, when anie hath nam'd thee. My tongue with vaine threates is bolne, and waxen too big for my mouth. My eies haue broken their strings with staring and looking ghastly, as I stood deuising how to frame or set my countenance when I met thee. I haue nere spent my strength in imaginarie acting on stone wals, what I determined to execute on thee. Entreate not, a miracle maye not repriue thee: villaine, thus march I with my blade into thy bowels.
Eagerly, I replied after his long, pleading speech; even though I knew God would never have mercy on me unless I showed mercy to you, I wanted none from you. Revenge in our tragedies always seems to come from hell: I consider hell better than heaven if it gives me revenge. There’s no heaven without revenge. I tell you, I wouldn’t have put in so much effort to gain heaven as I have in pursuing you for revenge. Divine revenge, of which—like the joys above—there’s no fullness or satisfaction. Look at my feet, blistered from following you everywhere. I’ve torn my throat from straining to curse you. I’ve ground my teeth to dust from grinding them together in anger whenever someone mentioned you. My tongue, swollen from empty threats, feels too big for my mouth. My eyes have strained from staring and looking ghastly as I thought about how to compose myself when I saw you. I’ve never wasted my energy in imaginary acts on stone walls; what I planned to do to you is all too real. Don’t plead; a miracle won’t save you: scoundrel, I march with my blade into your guts.
Stay, stay exclaimed Esdras, and heare mee but one word further. Though neither for God nor man thou carest, but placeth thy whole felicitie in murder, yet of thy felicitie learne how to make a greater felicitie. Respite me a little from thy swords poynt, and set mee about some execrable enterprise, that may subuert the whole state of Christendome, and make all mens eares tingle that heare of it. Commaund me to cut all my kindreds throates, to burne men women and children in their beds in millions, by firing their Cities at midnight. Be it Pope, Emperour or Turke that displeaseth thee, he shal not breath on the earth. For thy sake will I sweare and forsweare, renounce my baptisme, and all the interest I haue in any other sacrament. Onely let me liue how miserable soeuer, be it in a dungeon amongst toades, serpents and adders, or set vp to the necke in dung. No paines I will refuse how euer proroged, to haue a little respite to purifie my spirit: oh heare me, heare me, and thou canst not be hardned against me.
"Wait, wait," exclaimed Esdras, "just hear me out for one more word. Even if you don’t care for God or man and find your happiness only in murder, learn how to create an even greater joy from that happiness. Give me a moment away from your sword’s point and let me take on a terrible task that could shake the entire realm of Christendom and leave everyone reeling from it. Command me to slit all my family’s throats, to burn men, women, and children in their beds by lighting their cities on fire at midnight. Whether it’s the Pope, Emperor, or Turk that you dislike, they won’t draw a breath on this earth. For your sake, I’ll swear and unswear, renounce my baptism, and all the connection I have to any other sacrament. Just let me live, no matter how miserable it might be, even if it’s in a dungeon among toads, snakes, and adders, or buried up to my neck in filth. I won’t shy away from any pain, however delayed, to have a moment to cleanse my soul: oh, hear me, hear me, and you cannot harden yourself against me."
At this his importunitie paused a little, not as retyring from my wreakful resolution, but going back to gather more forces of vengeance. With my selfe I deuised how to plague him double for his base minde. My thoughts traueld in quest of some notable newe Italionisme, whose murdrous platforme might not onely extend on his bodie, but his soule also. The ground worke of it was this. That whereas he had promised for my sake to sweare and forsweare, and commit Iulian-like violence on the highest seales of religion: if he would but thus farre satisfie me he should bee dismist from my furie. First and formost he should renounce God and his lawes, and vtterly disclaime the whole title or interest he had in anie couenaunt of saluation. Next he should curse him to his face, as Iob was willed by his wife, and write an absolute firme obligation of his soule to the diuell, without condition or exception. Thirdly and lastly (hauing done this), hee should praye to God feruently neuer to haue mercie vppon him, or pardon him. Scarce had I propounded these articles vnto him, but he was beginning his blasphemous abiurations. I wonder the earth opened not and swallowed vs both hearing the bold tearmes he blasted forth in contempt of Christianitie: Heauen hath thundred when halfe lesse contumelies against it haue been vttered. Able they were to raise Saints and Martirs from their graues, and plucke Christ himselfe from the right hand of his father. My ioints trembled & quakt with attending them, my haire stood vpright, & my hart was turned wholly to fire. So affectionately and zealously did hee giue himselfe ouer to infidelitie, as if sathan had gotten the vpper hand of our high Maker. The veyne in his left hand that is deriued from his heart with no faint blow he pierst, & with the bloud that flowd from it, writ a ful obligation of his soule to the diuell: yea, more earnestly he praid vnto God neuer to forgiue it his soule, than manie Christians doo to saue theyr soules. These fearfull ceremonies brought to an end, I bad him ope his mouth and gape wide. He did so (as what wil not slaues doo for feare). Therwith made I no more adoo, but shot him ful into the throat with my pistol: no more spake he after, so did I shoote him that hee might neuer speak after, or repent him.
At this, his insistence paused for a moment, not as if he was retreating from my determined resolution, but rather to gather more forces for revenge. I plotted in my mind how to punish him twice as hard for his base nature. My thoughts searched for some striking new Italian-style method of torment, one that would harm not only his body but his soul as well. The foundation of it was this: since he had promised, for my sake, to swear and forsake, committing violence like Julius against the highest tenets of religion, if he would satisfy me just this far, he would be free from my wrath. First and foremost, he should renounce God and His laws, completely disavowing any claim or interest he had in any promise of salvation. Next, he should curse Him to His face, as Job was urged by his wife, and sign a binding contract of his soul to the devil, without any conditions or exceptions. Finally (after doing this), he should pray fervently to God never to have mercy on him or pardon him. Hardly had I laid out these terms when he began his blasphemous renunciations. I wondered that the earth didn't open up and swallow us both as we heard the bold words he spat forth in contempt of Christianity: Heaven has thundering when much less insults against it have been uttered. His words could raise saints and martyrs from their graves and pull Christ Himself down from the right hand of God. My joints trembled and shook at hearing them, my hair stood on end, and my heart burned with rage. He eagerly and passionately surrendered himself to unbelief, as if Satan had gained the upper hand over our Creator. He pierced the vein in his left hand, which derives from his heart, with force, and with the blood that flowed from it, he wrote a full obligation of his soul to the devil. Indeed, he prayed to God more earnestly never to forgive his soul than many Christians do to save theirs. Once these horrifying ceremonies were complete, I told him to open his mouth wide. He did so (as any slave would out of fear). I then wasted no time and shot him straight in the throat with my pistol; he spoke no more after that, as I shot him so that he would never speak again or repent.
His body being dead lookd as blacke as a toad: the diuell presently branded it for his owne. This is the fault that hath called me hether. No true Italian but will honor me for it Reuenge is the glory of Armes, and the highest performance of valure: reuenge is whatsoeuer wee call law or iustice. The farther we wade in reuenge, the nerer come we to the throne of the Almightie. To his scepter it is properly ascribed, his scepter he lends vnto man, when he lets one man scourge another. All true Italians imitate mee, in reuenging constantly, and dying valiantly. Hangman to thy taske, for I am readie for the vtmost of thy rigor. Herewith all the people (outragiously incensed) with one conioyned outcrye yelled mainely, Away with him, away with him, Executioner torture him, teare him, or we will teare thee in peeces if thou spare him.
His dead body looked as black as a toad: the devil immediately marked it as his own. This is the reason I’ve come here. No true Italian would not honor me for it. Revenge is the glory of arms and the highest act of valor: revenge is whatever we call law or justice. The more we pursue revenge, the closer we come to the throne of the Almighty. It is rightfully attributed to His scepter; He lends it to man when He allows one man to punish another. All true Italians imitate me in seeking revenge relentlessly and dying bravely. Hangman, get to work, because I am ready for the full extent of your punishment. With that, the people (furiously enraged) shouted together, “Away with him, away with him, Executioner, torture him, tear him apart, or we will tear you to pieces if you spare him.”
The executioner needed no exhortation herevnto, for of his owne nature was he hackster good enough: olde excellent hee was at a bone-ache. At the first chop with his wood-knife would he fish for a mans heart, and fetch it out as easily as a plum from the bottome of a porredge pot. Hee would cracke neckes as fast as a cooke crackes egges: a fidler cannot turne his pin so soone, as he would turn a man of the ladder. Brauely did hee drum on this Cutwolfes bones, not breaking them outright, but like a sadler knocking in of tackes, iarring on them quaueringly with his hammer a great while together. No ioynt about him but with a hatchet he had for the nonce, he disioynted halfe, and then with boyling lead souldred vp the wounds from bleeding. His tongue he puld out, least he should blaspheme in his torment: venomous stinging wormes hee thrust into his eares, to keep his head rauingly occupied: with cankers scruzed to peeces hee rubd his mouth and his gums. No lim of his but was lingringly splinterd in shiuers. In this horror left they him on the wheele as in hel: where yet liuing, hee might behold his flesh legacied amongst the foules of the aire. Unsearchable is the booke of our destenies. One murder begetteth another: was neuer yet bloud-shed barrain from the beginning of the world to this day. Mortifiedly abiected and danted was I with this truculent tragedie of Cutwolfe and Esdras. To such straight life did it thence forward incite me, that ere I went out of Bolognia I married my curtizane, performed manie aimes deedes; and hasted so fast out of the Sodom of Italy, that within fortie daies I arriued at the King of Englands Campe twixt Ardes and Guines in France: where he with great triumphes met and entertained the Emperour and the French King, and feasted manie dayes. And so as my Storie began with the King at Turnay and Turwin, I thinke meete heere to end it with the King at Ardes & Guines. All the conclusiue Epilogue I will make is this; that if herein I haue pleased any, it shall animate me to more paynes in this kinde. Otherwise I will sweare vpon an English Chronicle, neuer to bee outlandish Chronicler more while I liue. Farewell as manie as wish me well. Iune 27. 1593.
The executioner needed no persuasion because he was naturally skilled at his gruesome job. With the first chop of his wood knife, he would reach for a man's heart and pull it out as easily as picking a plum from a pot of porridge. He would snap necks as quickly as a cook cracks eggs; a fiddler couldn't turn his pin faster than he would turn a man off the ladder. He boldly drummed on this *Cutwolfe*'s bones, not breaking them outright, but like a saddler driving in tacks, working on them persistently with his hammer for a long time. There wasn't a joint in his body that he didn't dislocate with a hatchet he had for the occasion, then solder the wounds with boiling lead to stop the bleeding. He pulled out his tongue to prevent himself from cursing during his torment: he shoved venomous, stinging worms into his ears to keep his mind tortured; he rubbed his mouth and gums with crushed cankers. Every limb he had was slowly splintered into shards. In this horror, they left him on the wheel as if in hell, still alive, forced to watch his flesh left as a legacy for the birds in the air. The book of our destinies is unfathomable. One murder begets another; there has never been a time in history without bloodshed. I was mortified and shaken by this brutal tragedy of *Cutwolfe* and *Esdras*. The ordeal pushed me to such a strict life that before I left *Bologna*, I married my courtesan, committed many daring deeds, and hurried so fast out of the *Sodom* of *Italy* that in just forty days, I arrived at the King of *England*'s camp between *Ardes* and *Guines* in *France*, where he celebrated and entertained the Emperor and the French King, hosting banquets for many days. And just as my story began with the King at *Turnay* and *Turwin*, I think it’s fitting to end it with the King at *Ardes* & *Guines*. The only final note I want to add is this: if I have pleased anyone here, it will motivate me to work harder in this style. If not, I swear on an English Chronicle never to be an outsider chronicler again while I live. Farewell to all who wish me well. *June* 27, 1593.
Finis.
The End.
Chiswick Press:—Charles Whittingham And Co., Tooks Court, Chancery Lane.
Chiswick Press:—Charles Whittingham And Co., Tooks Court, Chancery Lane.
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