hir for hys purpose, thus he sayed vnto hir: “Mystresse I maruell mutch that you make so little accompt of the pore lorde of Virle who lyeth in his Bedde attending for Death. Alas, if euer pitty had place in Woman’s heart, I beseech you to gyue your ayde to help him, the meane of whose recouery, is not ignoraunt vnto you.” “God is my witnesse” (quod she) “what trauaile my heart is willing to vndertake to helpe that Gentleman, but in things impossible, it is not in man to determine, or rest assured iudgement. I wil go vnto him and comfort hym so well as I can, that peraduenture my Promyses may ease some part of his payne: and afterward we wil at leysure better consider, what is best for vs to do.” Herevppon they wente together to see the Pacient, that beganne to looke more chearefull than he dyd before: who seeing the Gentlewoman, said vnto hir: “Ah mistres, I would to God I had neuer proued your fidelity, then had I not felt the passing cruell Heart of hir, that esteemeth more hir honour to practise rigour and tyranny than with gentlenesse to maintaine the Lyfe of a pore feeble knight.” “Sir,” (said she,) “be of good cheare, doe not thus torment your selfe: for I trust to gyue you remedy betwene thys and to morrowe, and wyll doe myne endeuor to cause you to speake with hir, vppon whome wrongfully perchaunce you doe complayne, and who dare not come vnto you, least ill speakers conceiue occasion of suspicion, who wil make the report more slaunderous, then remedie for the cause of your disease.” “Ah” (sayd the pacient) “howe ioyefull and pleasaunt is your talke? I see wel that you desire my health, and for that purpose would haue me drinke those liquors, which superficiallay appeare to bee sweete, which afterwardes may make my lyfe a hundred tymes more faint and feeble than now it is.” “Be you there,” sayed she? “And I sweare vnto you by my faith not to faile to keepe my promyse, to cause you speake alone with mistresse Zilia.” “Alas, mistresse” sayd the louer, “I aske no more at your haudes, that I may heare with myne own eares the last sentence of hope or defiance.” “Well put your trust in me,” sayd she, “and take no thought but for your health. For I am assured ere it be longe, to cause hir to come vnto you, and then you shall see whether, my diligence shall aunswere the effect of myne attempt.” “Me thinke already” (quod he) “that sicknesse is not able to stay me from going to hir that is the cause, sith her onely remembraunce hath no lesse force in mee, than the clearnesse of the Sun beames to euaporate the thicknesse of the morning mistes.” With that the Gentlewoman tooke her leaue of hym, and went home attendynge oportunity to speake to Zilia, whome two or three Dayes after she mette at Church, and they two beyng alone togither in a Chapell, she sayd vnto hir with fayned Teares, forced from her Eyes, and sending forth a Cloude of sighes, these woordes: “Madame, I nothing doubt at al, but the last