Allegories; Frame stories; Plague -- Europe -- History -- Fiction; Storytelling -- Fiction
all my powers to minister in any wise to your gratification, I am now minded
more than ever so to do, because I know that there is nought that any can
justly say in regard thereof, but that I, and others who love you, follow
the promptings of nature, whose laws whoso would withstand, has need of
powers pre-eminent, and, even so, will oft-times labour not merely in vain
but to his own most grievous disadvantage. Such powers I own that I neither
have, nor, to such end, desire to have; and had I them, I would rather leave
them to another than use them myself. Wherefore let my detractors hold their
peace, and if they cannot get heat, why, let them shiver their life away;
and, while they remain addicted to their delights, or rather corrupt tastes,
let them leave me to follow my own bent during the brief life that is
accorded us. But this has been a long digression, fair ladies, and 'tis time
to retrace our steps to the point where we deviated, and continue in the
course on which we started.
The sun had chased every star from the sky, and lifted the dank murk of
night from the earth, when, Filostrato being risen, and having roused all
his company, they hied them to the fair garden, and there fell to disporting
themselves: the time for breakfast being come, they took it where they had
supped on the preceding evening, and after they had slept they rose, when
the sun was in his zenith, and seated themselves in their wonted manner by
the beautiful fountain; where Fiammetta, being bidden by Filostrato to lead
off the story-telling, awaited no second command, but debonairly thus began.
NOVEL I.
--
Tancred, Prince of Salerno, slays his daughter's lover, and sends her his
heart in a golden cup: she pours upon it a poisonous distillation, which she
drinks and dies.
--
A direful theme has our king allotted us for to-day's discourse seeing that,
whereas we are here met for our common delectation, needs must we now tell
of others' tears, whereby, whether telling or hearing, we cannot but be
moved to pity. Perchance 'twas to temper in some degree the gaiety of the
past days that he so ordained, but, whatever may have been his intent, his
will must be to me immutable law; wherefore I will narrate to you a matter
that befell piteously, nay woefully, and so as you may well weep thereat.
Tancred, Prince of Salerno, a lord most humane and kind of heart, but that
in his old age he imbrued his hands in the blood of a lover, had in the
whole course of his life but one daughter; and had he not had her, he had
been more fortunate.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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