and for this time conceal it from the knowledge of the Count; otherwise, set down thy rest, we will not both live together in Italy. Farewell. Never thine, though she were not PHILIPPO's, PHILOMELA MEDIA. Having ended her letter, she resolved to answer his sonnet, as well to shew her wit, as to choke his wantonness, and therefore she writ this poem. Quot corda, tot amores. Nature foreseeing how men would devise More wiles than Proteus, women to entice, Granted them two, and those bright shining eyes, Both these await upon one simple heart, They hold it bad to have so base exchange. One heart, one friend, though that two eyes do choose him, No more but one, and heart will never lose him. Cor unum, amor unus. As soon as she had sealed up her letter, she brooked no delay, but sent it straight by one of her waiting women to LUTESIO, whom she found sitting alone in his chamber reading upon a book. Interrupting his study, she delivered him the letter, and the message of her lady. LUTESIO kind, gave the gentlewoman a kiss; for he thought she valued a lip favour more than a piece of gold, and with great courtesy gave her leave to depart. She was scarce out of the chamber, but he opened the letter, and found what he expected, the resolution of a chaste Countess, too worthy of so jealous a husband. Helena Praising in himself the honourable mind of PHILOMELA, he went abroad to find out PHILIPPO, whom at last he met, near unto the arsenal. Walking together to LUTESIO's house, there he shewed PHILIPPO his wife's letter, and did comment upon every line, commending greatly her chastity, and deeply condemning his suspicion, "Tush," says PHILIPPO, "all this wind shakes no corn. writ as sharply to Paris, yet she ran away with him. Try her once again, LUTESIO, and for my life thou shalt find calmer words and sweeter lines." LUTESIO, with his eyes full of choler, made him this answer. “PHILIPPO, if thou beest so sottish, with Cephalus to betray thy wife's honour, perhaps with him prove the first that repent thy treachery. When the wild boar is not chafed, thou mayest chasten him with a wand, but being once indammaged with the dogs, he is dismal. . "Women that are chaste while they are trusted, prove wantons being suspected causeless. Jealousy is a spur to revenge. Beware PHILOMELA hear not of this practice, lest she make thee eat with the blind man many a fly. Canst thou not, PHILIPPO, content thyself that thy Lady is honest, but thou must plot the means to make her a harlot'? If thou likest hunters' fees so well, seek another woodman, for I will not play an apple-squire to feed thy humours. If Venice knew as much as I am privy to, they would hold thee How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Makes ill deeds done. King John. worthy of that thou hast not, and her a fool if she gave thee not what thou seekest for. I am sorry I have wronged her virtues by so bad a motion; but henceforth, PHILIPPO, hope never to get me in the like vein: and more, if thou leavest not from being so vain, I will abandon thy company, and renounce thy friendship for ever.” PHILIPPO hearing his friend LUTESIO SO short, desired him to be content, patient, and silent, and he would raze out the suspicious conceit that haunted him, and for ever after grace his good wife with more love and honour; and, with that, PHILIPPO and he walked to the Rialto: but LUTESIO would not for that night go to the house of PHILIPPO, lest his presence might be offensive to PHILOMELA, and so drive him into some dumpish choler. PHILIPPO Coming home, was welcome to his Lady, and being somewhat late, they sat down lovingly to supper. The first course was no sooner come in, but PHILIPPO said, he marvelled that all that day he had not seen LUTESIO: this he spake with his eyes on PHILOMELA's face, to see what countenance she would hold at his name; she, little suspecting her husband had been privy to her new found lover, blushed and kept herself silent. PHILIPPO took no knowledge of any thing, but passed it over smoothly, and used his former wonted familiarity to his wife. The next day going abroad, LUTESIO came to his house, and went not in as his custom was, boldly, but walking in the hall, asked one of the Earl's gentlemen, if the Countess was stirring: he, marvelling at LUTESIO's strangeness, smiled and said, "Sir, what needs this question? my Lady is alone at her book; go up, Sir, and help her in her muses.” “I pray you," quoth LUTESIO, "go to the Countess, and tell her I am here, and would, if her leisure served her, gladly have a word with her.” The gentleman, though he wondered at these uncouth words of LUTESIO, yet he went up and told his Lady the message, who presently leaving her book and company, all to avoid out of the chamber, sent for him up; who no sooner came into her presence, but she saluted him with such a frown, that he stood as mortified as if he had been struck with the eye of a basilisk. PHILOMELA seeing him in this passionate agony, began with him thus. 66 "I cannot tell, LUTESIO, how to salute thee either with looks or speeches, seeing thou art not as thou seemedst once, my wellwisher, and my husband's friend. The lapidaries value the stones no longer than they hold their virtues; nor I prize a gentleman no longer than he regards his honour. For, as a diamond with a cloud is cast into the goldsmith's dust, so a gentleman without credit is carelessly holden for refuse. I read thy letter, and I answered it: but tell me, how shall I take it? As thou repliest, so will I entertain if to try me, thou shalt find the more favour; if to betray me, hope for nothing but revenge.” LUTESIO, hearing PHILOMELA So honourably peremptory, with blushing cheeks made her this answer. Madam, as my face bewrays my folly, and my ruddy hue my rechless show, so let my words be holden for witnesses of my truth, and think whatsoever I say is sooth: by the faith of a gentleman, then, assure yourself, mine eye hath ever loved you, but never unlawfully; and what humble duty I have shown you, hath been to honour you, not to dishonest you. This letter was but to make trial how you liked PHILIPPO, to whom I owe such faith, that it would grieve me he should have a wife false. I know not, Madam, what humour drew me on to it. I am sure, neither your wanton looks, nor light demeanours, but a kind of passion destined to breed mine own prejudice, if your favour exceed not my deserts. If, therefore, your Ladyship shall forget and forgive this folly, and conceal it from the Earl, who perhaps may take it meant in earnest, enjoin me any penance, Madam, and I will perform it with patience." PHILOMELA hearing LUTESIO thus penitent, began to clear up her countenance, and said to him thus: " "It is folly to rub the scar when the wound is almost whole, or to renew quarrels when the matter is put in compromise; therefore, omitting all, LUTESIO, L I pardon thee, and promise neither to remember thy folly myself, nor yet to reveal it to my husband, but thou shalt be every way as heartily welcome to me as thou wert wont; only this shall be thy penance, to swear upon this bible, never hereafter to motion me of any dishonesty. To this LUTESIO willingly granted, and took his oath; so were they reconciled, and the Countess called for a cup of wine, and drunk to him: and after, to pass away the afternoon, they fell to chess. After a mate or two, the Countess was called aside by one MARGARETA STROMIA, a Venetian lady, that came to visit her, and LUTESIO went down to walk in the garden by chance. As he was striking through the parlour he met the Earl, whom he took by the arm, and led him into one of the privy walks, and there recounted unto him what reconcilement was grown between him and the Countess his wife, which highly pleased the Earl, so that without any more cross humours they passed a long time in all contented pleasures; till Fortune, whose envy is to subvert content, and whose delight is to turn comic mirth into tragic sorrows, entered into the theatre of PHILOMELA's life, and began to act a baleful scene, in this manner. PHILIPPO, who had not quite extinguished suspicion, but covered up in the cinders of melancholy the glowing sparks of jealousy', began afresh to kindle the flame, and to conceit a new insight into his wife's actions; and whereas generally he mistrusted her before, and only thought her a wanton, as she was a woman, now he suspected that there was too much familiarity between her and LUTESIO, and flatly, that between them both he wore the horns: yet accuse her he durst not, because her parentage was great, her friends many, and her honesty most of all. Neither had he any probable articles to object against her, and therefore was silent, but ever murmuring with himself to this effect. 1 Burke has made use of a similar image applied to a much greater occasion. |