NOVEL IX. The King of Cyprus

NOVEL IX. 

The King of Cyprus was so much affected by the words of a gentlewoman of Gascogne, that from being a worthless prince he became very virtuous. 

THE queen's last command rested on Eliza, who, without waiting for it, began in this manner: - It often happens that a desirable change, which much pains and many reproofs have failed to effect, is happily brought about by a word thrown in by chance, and without any such design. We have had an instance of this in the novel recited by Lauretta; and I purpose, also, in a very short story, to demonstrate the same thing.  A good saying may often be of service, and ought to be duly regarded, whoever the person be that utters it. 

During the reign of the first King of Cyprus, after the conquest of the Holy Land, by Godfrey of Boulogne, it happened that a gentlewoman of Gascogne went on a pilgrimage to visit the holy sepulchre, and, on her return home, being arrived at Cyprus, she was ill-treated by a parcel of villains. Having made her complaint without receiving any redress, she resolved at length to go to the king, but was told, that she would only lose her labour, for he was so careless in every respect, and so little of a man, that, far from avenging the injuries done to others, he suffered an infinite number of the most shameful affronts to be offered to himself; insomuch that whoever were offended at him might vent their resentment at any time in the most opprobrious language. On hearing this she entirely despaired of redress; nevertheless she proposed, as some comfort to herself in her calamity, to upbraid the King for his meanness of spirit. Coming, therefore, all in tears before him she said, "My lord, I appear in your presence not expecting to be revenged for the injuries I have sustained: but this small satisfaction I entreat, that you would tell me how you can bear those which I hear are committed towards yourself, that I may thence be instructed patiently to bear my own, which, God knows, were it in my power, I would willingly consign to you, since you endure such things so well." The king, who till that hour had been dull and inactive, as if now he had been roused from a long sleep, began, with avenging that lady's wrongs in the strictest  manner, and from that time forward he was most zealous in the punishment of every one who dared to do anything contrary to the honour of his crown. 

Novel VIII- Gulielmo Borsiere

NOVEL VIII. 

Gulielmo Borsiere, by a few smart words, checks the miserable covetousness of M. Ermino de' Grimaldi. 

LAURETTA, who sat next to Filostrato, hearing them commend Bergamino's wit and perseverance, and knowing that it was now her turn, without waiting for any command, began in this manner: - The last story puts me in mind how a witty courtier reproved, to good purpose, the covetousness of a certain rich merchant. The story, although it may resemble the other, will not be the less agreeable, as it tends to as good an end. 

There lived, some time ago, at Genoa, a gentleman named Signior Ermino de' Grimaldi, who, as was generally believed surpassed all the people of Italy in estate and wealth; and as no Italian could equal him in riches, so neither was there in the whole world one like him for greediness and sordid avarice. For, so far was he from being a friend to others, that he even denied himself common necessaries; contrary to the custom of the Genoese, who delight to dress and live well. On which account he had lost his true name of Grinaldi, and was now known by no other than that of Ermino 

Avarizia. It came to pass, that, whilst by spending nothing, he went on accumulating wealth, there came to Genoa, Gulielmo Borsiere, a well-bred and witty gentleman, one wholly unlike the debauched reprobates of the present day, who would fain be reputed fine gentlemen, but should more properly style themselves asses, their breeding being that of the filth and sink of mankind, rather than of courts. And whereas, in former days, they spent their time in making up differences between gentlemen, or in bringing about alliances by marriage, affinity, or friendship; and would divert themselves, and those about them, with facetious and witty repartees, and at the same time, like kind fathers, reprove and lash such as deserved it, although with little recompense: these upstarts of the present age employ their whole life, in speaking ill of their neighbours, and sowing dissentions among them, in lying and slandering, and what is worse, doing this in the presence of any one; for they allege all sorts of shameful misdeeds of everybody, true or not true, upon the least occasion; and, by their false and deceitful flatteries, they bring gentlemen at last to everything that is vile and wicked. We see, too, that he is most caressed by the untoward nobles of our day, who uses the most wicked expressions and commits the vilest actions, to the eternal shame of the present age, and a manifest proof that virtue is gone out from among us, and has left us wallowing in the sink of debauchery. But to return from this digression into which a just resentment has led me farther than I intended. This Gulielmo, whom I before mentioned, was much respected and gladly welcomed by the better sort of people at Genoa. He once made some stay here, and hearing much talk of Ermino's sordidness, he became desirous of seeing him. Now Ermino had been informed of Gulielmo's worthy character, and having, with all his covetousness, some small sparks of gentility, he received him in a very courteous manner. After some discourse, he took his visitor, and some 

Genoese who came along with him, to see a fine house which he had lately built; and when he had showed every part of it, "Pray, sir," he said, " can you, who have heard and seen so much, tell me of something that has never yet been seen, to have painted in my hall?” To this absurd question, Gulielmo replied, "sir, I can tell you of nothing which has never yet been seen, that I know of, unless it be sneezing, or something of that sort; but, if you please, I can tell you of a thing which, I believe, you never saw." "Do, pray," said Ermino (little expecting such an answer as he received), "let me know what that is." Gulielmo immediately replied, "Paint Liberality." When Ermino heard this, such a sudden shame seized him, as wrought a complete change in his disposition. "sir," he said, "I will have her painted in such a manner, that neither you, nor any one else, shall be able to say, hereafter, that I am unacquainted with her." And from that time, such effect had Gulielmo's words upon him, he became a most liberal and courteous gentleman, and was the most respected, both by strangers and his fellow-citizens, of any in Genoa. 

NOVEL VII. Bergamino

NOVEL VII. 

Bergamino, by telling a tale of a certain witty person named Primasso, very handsomely reproves the avarice which had lately appeared in Messer Cane della Scala. 

EMILIA's pleasant manner, and her agreeable story, made them all laugh heartily, and they highly commended the novel idea struck out by the crusaders. After which Philostrato, who was to speak next, began: - It is a commendable thing, most worthy ladies, to hit a fixed mark; but more so, to see a thing suddenly appearing, as suddenly hit by an archer. The scandalous and most wicked lives of the clergy, furnish matter enough for reproach and raillery, to such as are so disposed, without much thinking upon the matter: and, therefore, though the honest man did well in touching master inquisitor to the quick, with a shaft pointed by the hypocritical charity of the friars, who give that to the poor which they would otherwise either throw away, or give to the hogs; yet is he more to be commended, of whom the last story puts me in mind to speak. 

This was one who reproved Messer Cane della Scala, a most magnificent person hereto-fore, of a sudden and unusual kind of avarice, which had lately appeared in him, figuring by other persons in a pretty novel, as follows, that which he intended to say concerning themselves: 

Messer Cane della Scala was known all over the world, as well for the wealth with which fortune had blessed him, as for his being one of the greatest and most magnificent lords that had lived in Italy since the days of the emperor Frederick II. 

He had determined to make a most sumptuous feast at Verona, to which people began to flock from all parts, those especially of the best fashion; when, on a sudden, whatever was the cause, he altered his mind, and making such as came some little amends for their trouble, he sent them away. One person only remained unsatisfied, whose name was Bergamino, a man of incredible wit and ready tongue, who was still in hopes that things would at length turn out to his advantage. But Messer Cane della Scala (having been made to understand, that whatever was given to him was entirely thrown away) neither spoke to, nor took the least notice of him. Bergamino waited some days, and perceiving that no account was made of him, and finding his stock grew low with the expense of horses and servants at the inn, he became melancholy, yet thought it better to wait a while longer. He had brought three costly suits with him, which had been given him by other lords, for his more splendid appearance at this feast; and as the landlord began to grow importunate, he first pawned one, and staying a little longer, a second, and he had now begun to live upon the credit of the last, resolving when that was spent, to go away. In the meantime it happened that he met with Messer Cane della Scala at dinner, where he presented himself before him with a sorrowful countenance. The other observing this, said, out of mockery, rather than to take any delight in what should come from him: "What is the matter, Bergamino, thou seemest melancholy; what is it all about?” Bergamino, without any premeditation, yet as if he had thought long upon the matter, made a pat reply in the following story: 

- "You must understand, sir, that Primasso was a person well skilled in grammar, as well as a good and ready poet, by which means he became so famous, that though his person was not universally known, his fame and character were in every one's mouth. Now it came to pass, that being once at Paris, in a poor condition, as his virtue met with no fortune, being little encouraged by such as were the most able, he heard much talk of the abbot of Cligni, who, next to the pope, was reputed to be the richest prelate of the church: of him it was said, that he always kept a most grand and hospitable court, and all were entertained freely that came thither, provided it was whilst the abbot was at dinner. Primasso hearing this, and being desirous of seeing great and worthy persons, resolved to be a witness of the magnificence of this abbot. He inquired, therefore, how far he dwelt from Paris? Being answered, about six miles, he supposed that, if he set out early in the morning, he should be able to reach thither by dinner. Accordingly he asked the way, and, having nobody to keep him company, lest he should mistake the road, and so come to a place where no victuals could be had, he took three loaves with him, depending upon finding water enough (for a little served him) wherever he went. The loaves he put in his bosom, and he nicked his time so well, that he arrived at the abbot's exactly at the hour of dining; and entering into the great hall, and beholding the number of tables which were laid forth, and the vast preparations making in the kitchens, and everything else getting ready for dinner, he said to himself "This man is as truly generous as he has always been reported.” Whilst he was considering these things attentively, the steward of the household ordered water to be brought, and they washed their hands, and sat down every one at his respective table. 

Now it happened that Primasso was placed facing the door where the abbot was to make his entrance. It was the custom in that court, that neither wine, bread, nor any manner of food whatever should be served at any of the tables, till the lord abbot himself was seated. At last the steward, having all things in readiness, acquainted his lord, that nothing now was wanting but his presence. The abbot ordered the door to be thrown open, and, as he was entering the hall, the first person he chanced to cast his eye upon, was Primasso, who being a stranger, and but meanly apparelled, an ungenerous, as well as an unusual thought came into the abbot's mind. 

"Behold," said he to himself, 'to whom I give my substance to be consumed!' 

And turning back, he ordered the door to be shut again, and inquired of the people within, whether they could give any account of that mean fellow, that sat over against the door: they all answered that they could not. Primasso, who had a kind of a traveller's appetite, and had not been used to fast so long, seeing the abbot did not yet come, took one of the loaves out of his bosom, and began to devour it. The abbot, after he had waited a considerable time, sent one of his servants to see whether the fellow was gone; the servant brought word that he stayed, and was eating bread, which he seemed to have brought with him. 'Let him eat of his own," replied the abbot, 'if he has it, for he shall taste none of mine today." Gladly would the abbot have had him go away of himself, for he did not think it right to turn him out. 

Primasso had now finished one loaf, and finding the abbot did not yet come, he began with the second, which was again reported to his lordship, who had sent to inquire as before. At length, the abbot not coming, and Primasso having eaten up his second loaf, he now attacked the third. When this news was carried to the abbot, he began to consider with himself in this manner: 'What strange fancy has possessed me today? What means this avarice, this scorn that I now show? And who is it that I thus disdain? For many years have I entertained all comers, gentle or simple, poor or rich, and as it has sometimes happened, the most paltry fellows imaginable; yet never before did I grudge it to any, as I do now to this person: surely avarice should have no influence over me in the case of a poor man. For aught I know, he may be a most extraordinary person, mean as he appears, and however unwilling I have hitherto been to show him respect." Having argued thus with himself, he would needs know who the stranger was, and, finding him to be Primasso, who was come only to behold his grandeur, and knowing him to be a learned and worthy person, he became quite ashamed, and was desirous of making amends for his illiberal behaviour, by showing him all possible respect. Having feasted him, therefore, to his heart's content, he ordered him to be sumptuously apparelled, and putting money into his pocket, he made him a present of a horse, and left him at full liberty either to stay with him, or to depart at pleasure: wherewith Primasso, being highly satisfied, gave him his most hearty thanks, and returned to Paris on horseback, although he had come thence on foot." 

Messer Cane della Scala, who was a man of good understanding, without any farther explanation, easily understood what Bergamino meant to say, and, smiling upon him, replied: "Well have you set forth your necessities and virtue, as well as my avarice; and truly I never found myself so overpowered with that vice, as now in your case: but I will drive it out of me with the stick with which you have supplied me." 

So he ordered Bergamino's landlord to be paid his full charges, put on him a suit of his own best clothes, gave him money in his pocket, and a good horse to ride, and left it to his own choice whether to depart, or stay there with him.