French fiction -- Translations into English; Italian fiction -- Translations into English
ouerthrow? Who knoweth not the fury of a woman: specially the
Noble dame, by seeing hirselfe despised? No, no, she loueth me,
and I will be hir seruaunt, and vse the fortune proffred. Shal I
be the first simple Gentleman that hath married or loued a
Princesse? Is it not more honourable for mee to settle my mind
vpon a place so high, than vppon some simple wench by whom I
shall neyther attayne profit, or aduancement? Baldouine of
Flaunders, did not he a Noble enterprise when he carried away
Iudith the daughter of the French kynge, as she was passing vpon
the Seas into England, to be married to the kynge of that
Countrey? I am neither Pirat nor Aduenturer, for the Lady loueth
me. What wrong doe I then to any person by rendringe loue
agayne? Is not she at liberty? To whom ought shee to make
accoumpt of hir deedes and doinges, but to God alone and to hir
owne Conscience? I wyll loue hir, and cary lyke affection for
the loue which I know and see that she beareth vnto me, beinge
assured that the same is directed to good ende, and that a Woman
so wyse as she is, will not hazard the bleamish of hir honor.”
Thus Bologna framed the plot for intertaynment of the Duchesse
(albeit hir loue already was fully bent vpon him) and fortified
hym selfe agaynst all perillous myshap and chaunce that might
succeede, as ordinarily you see that Louers conceyue all things
for their aduauntage, and fantasie dreames agreeable to their
most desire, resemblinge the Mad and Bedlem persons which haue
before their eyes, the figured Fansies whych cause the conceipt
of their fury, and stay themselues vpon the vision of that which
most troubleth their offended Brayne. On the other side, the
Duchesse was in no lesse care of hir Louer, the will of whom was
hid and secret, whych more did vexe and torment hir, than the
fire of loue that burned hir feruently. She could not tell what
way to hold, to do him vnderstand hir heart and affection. She
feared to discouer the same vnto hym, doubtinge eyther that some
fond and rigorous aunswere, or the reueylinge of hir mynde to
hym, whose presence pleased hir more than all of the men of the
World. “Alas,” sayd shee, “am I happed into so straunge misery,
that with mine owne mouth I must make request to him, which with
all humility ought to offer mee hys service? Shall a Lady of
sutch bloud as I am, be constrayned to sue, where all other be
required by importunate instance of their Suters? Ah loue, loue,
what so euer he was that clothed thee wyth sutch puissaunce,
I dare say he was the cruell ennimy of man’s freedom. It is
impossible that thou hadst thy being in heauen, sith the
clemency and curteous influence of the same, inuesteth man with
better benefits, than to suffer hir nourse children to be
intreated with sutch rigor. He lieth which sayth that Venus is
thy mother, for the swetenes and good grace that resteth in that
pitifull Goddesse, who taketh no pleasure to see louers perced
with so egre trauayles as that which afflicteth my heart.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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