deede they were, a thing not to be doubted) and able to satisfie their husbands hunger and therewithall began to blame them and to say that they deserued to learn to play of the Cornets, if they had no greater feare of God, and care of honesty than their husbands had. Then after mutch talke of this matter, concluded that they should do wel to expect what their husbands would demaund. Hauing taken order as they thought meete, they agreed dailye to espye what shoulde chaunce, and purposed first with sweete and pleasaunte lookes to bayte and lure eche other feere, to put them in hope therby that they should satisfie their desires, which done for that tyme they departed. And when at the Church at Sanfantino or other place in Venice, they chanced to meete their louers, they shewed vnto them cheareful and mery Countenaunce: whych the Louers well notyng, were the gladdest Men of the Worlde: and seeing that it was impossible in Speache to vtter their Myndes, they purposed by Letters to signify the same. And hauing found Purciuants to goe betwene parties (whereof this City was wont to be ful) either of them wrote an Amorous Letter, to his beloued, the content whereof was, that they were verye desyrous secretly to talke with them, thereby to expresse the burnynge affectyons that inwardly they bare them, whych without declaration and vtterance by Mouthe in theyr owne presence, woulde breede them Torments more bytter than Deathe. And wythin fewe Dayes after (no greate difference of Tyme betweene,) they wrote their Letters. But Girolamo Bembo hauing a pregnant Wit, who coulde well Endite both in prose, and Rime, wrote an excellent sonnet in the prayse of his Darling in Italian Meeter, and wyth hys Letter sent the same vnto hir, the effect whereof doth follow. A liuely face and pearcing beauty bright Hath linkt in loue my sely sences all: A comely porte, a goodly shaped wight Hath made me slide that neuer thought to fall: Hir eyes, hir grace, hir deedes and maners milde, So straines my heart that loue hath Wit begilde. But not one dart of Cupide did me wounde, A hundred shaftes lights all on me at ones: As though dame kind some new deuise had founde, To teare my flesh, and crash a two my bones: And yet I feele sutch ioy in these my woes That as I die my sprite to pleasure goes. These new found fits sutch change in me doe breede, I hate the day and draw to darknesse, lo! Yet by the Lampe of beauty doe I feede In dimmest dayes and darkest nights also, Thus altring State and changing Diet still, I feele and know the force of Venus will. The best I finde, is that I doe confesse, I loue you Dame whose beauty doth excell: But yet a toy doth breede me some distresse, For that I dread you will not loue me well, Than loue yee wot shall rest in me alone: And fleshly brest, shall beare a heart of stone.