The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
availed, the night when I was dying of cold in thy snow-filled
courtyard, to procure me to be put of thee but a little under cover,
it were a light matter to me to hearken now unto thine; but, if thou
be presently so much more concerned for thine honour than in the past
and it be grievous to thee to abide up there naked, address these thy
prayers to him in whose arms thou didst not scruple, that night which
thou thyself recallest, to abide naked, hearing me the while go about
thy courtyard, chattering with my teeth and trampling the snow, and
get thee succour of him; cause him fetch thee thy clothes and set thee
the ladder, whereby thou mayest descend, and study to inform him with
tenderness for thine honour, the which thou hast not scrupled both now
and a thousand other times to imperil for him. Why dost thou not call
him to come help thee? To whom pertaineth it more than unto him? Thou
art his; and what should he regard or succour, an he regard not
neither succour thee? Call him, silly woman that thou art, and prove
if the love thou bearest him and thy wits and his together can avail
to deliver thee from my folly, whereof, dallying with him the while,
thou questionedst aforetime whether himseemed the greater, my folly or
the love thou borest him.[387] Thou canst not now be lavish to me of
that which I desire not, nor couldst thou deny it to me, an I desired
it; keep thy nights for thy lover, an it chance that thou come off
hence alive; be they thine and his. I had overmuch of one of them and
it sufficeth me to have been once befooled. Again, using thy craft and
wiliness in speech, thou studiest, by extolling me, to gain my
goodwill and callest me a gentleman and a man of honour, thinking thus
to cajole me into playing the magnanimous and forebearing to punish
thee for thy wickedness; but thy blandishments shall not now darken me
the eyes of the understanding, as did thy disloyal promises whilere. I
know myself, nor did I learn so much of myself what while I sojourned
at Paris as thou taughtest me in one single night of thine. But,
granted I were indeed magnanimous, thou art none of those towards whom
magnanimity should be shown; the issue of punishment, as likewise of
vengeance, in the case of wild beasts such as thou art, behoveth to be
death, whereas for human beings that should suffice whereof thou
speakest. Wherefore, albeit I am no eagle, knowing thee to be no dove,
but a venomous serpent, I mean to pursue thee, as an immemorial enemy,
with every hate and all my might, albeit this that I do to thee can
scarce properly be styled vengeance, but rather chastisement, inasmuch
as vengeance should overpass the offence and this will not attain
thereto; for that, an I sought to avenge myself, considering to what a
pass thou broughtest my soul, thy life, should I take it from thee,
would not suffice me, no, nor the lives of an hundred others such as
thou, since, slaying thee, I should but slay a vile, wicked and
worthless trull of a woman. And what a devil more account (setting
aside this thy scantling of fair favour,[388] which a few years will
mar, filling it with wrinkles,) art thou than whatsoever other sorry
serving-drab? Whereas it was no fault of thine that thou failedst of
causing the death of a man of honour, as thou styledst me but now,
whose life may yet in one day be of more service to the world than an
hundred thousand of thy like could be what while the world endureth. I
will teach thee, then, by means of this annoy that thou sufferest,
what it is to flout men of sense, and particularly scholars, and will
give thee cause never more, an thou comest off alive, to fall into
such a folly. But, an thou have so great a wish to descend, why dost
thou not cast thyself down? On this wise, with God's help, thou wilt,
by breaking thy neck, at once deliver thyself from the torment,
wherein it seemeth to thee thou art, and make me the joyfullest man in
the world. Now, I have no more to say to thee. I knew to contrive on
such wise that I caused thee go up thither; do thou now contrive to
come down thence, even as thou knewest to befool me.'
[Footnote 387: Boccaccio here misquotes himself. See p. 389, where the
lady says to her lover, "Whether seemeth to thee the greater, his wit
or the love I bear him?" This is only one of the numberless instances
of negligence and inconsistency which occur in the Decameron and which
make it evident to the student that it must have passed into the hands
of the public without the final revision and correction by the author,
that _limæ labor_ without which no book is complete and which is
especially necessary in the case of such a work as the present, where
Boccaccio figures as the virtual creator of Italian prose.]
[Footnote 388: Lit. face, aspect (_viso_).]
What while the scholar spoke thus, the wretched lady wept without
ceasing and the time lapsed by, the sun still rising high and higher;
but, when she saw that he was silent, she said, 'Alack, cruel man, if
the accursed night was so grievous to thee and if my default seem to
thee so heinous a thing that neither my young beauty nor my bitter
tears and humble prayers may avail to move thee to any pity, at least
let this act of mine alone some little move thee and abate the rigour
of thy rancour, to wit, that I but now trusted in thee and discovered
to thee mine every secret, opening withal to thy desire a way whereby
thou mightest avail to make me cognizant of my sin; more by token
that, except I had trusted in thee, thou hadst had no means of
availing to take of me that vengeance, which thou seemest to have so
ardently desired. For God's sake, leave thine anger and pardon me
henceforth; I am ready, so thou wilt but forgive me and bring me down
hence, altogether to renounce yonder faithless youth and to have thee
alone to lover and lord, albeit thou decriest my beauty, avouching it
short-lived and little worth; natheless, whatever it be, compared with
that of other women, yet this I know, that, if for nought else, it is
to be prized for that it is the desire and pastime and delight of
men's youth, and thou art not old. And albeit I am cruelly entreated
of thee, I cannot believe withal that thou wouldst fain see me die so
unseemly a death as were the casting myself down from this tower, as
in desperation, before thine eyes, wherein, an thou was not a liar as
thou are since become, I was erst so pleasing. Alack, have ruth on me
for God's sake and pity's! The sun beginneth to wax hot, and like as
the overmuch cold irked me this night, even so doth the heat begin to
do me sore annoy.'
The scholar, who held her in parley for his diversion, answered,
'Madam, thou hast not presently trusted thine honour in my hands for
any love that thou borest me, but to regain him whom thou hast lost,
wherefore it meriteth but greater severity, and if thou think that
this way alone was apt and opportune unto the vengeance desired of me,
thou thinkest foolishly; I had a thousand others; nay, whilst feigning
to love thee, I had spread a thousand snares about thy feet, and it
would not have been long, had this not chanced, ere thou must of
necessity have fallen into one of them, nor couldst thou have fallen
into any but it had caused thee greater torment and shame than this
present, the which I took, not to ease thee, but to be the quicklier
satisfied. And though all else should have failed me, the pen had
still been left me, wherewithal I would have written such and so many
things of thee and after such a fashion that, whenas thou camest (as
thou wouldst have come) to know of them, thou wouldst a thousand times
a day have wished thyself never born. The power of the pen is far
greater than they imagine who have not proved it with experience. I
swear to God (so may He gladden me to the end of this vengeance that I
take of thee, even as He hath made me glad thereof in the beginning!)
that I would have written such things of thee, that, being ashamed,
not to say before other folk, but before thine own self, thou shouldst
have put out thine own eyes, not to see thyself in the glass;
wherefore let not the little rivulet twit the sea with having caused
it wax. Of thy love or that thou be mine, I reck not, as I have
already said, a jot; be thou e'en his, an thou may, whose thou wast
erst and whom, as I once hated, so at this present I love, having
regard unto that which he hath wrought towards thee of late. You women
go falling enamoured of young springalds and covet their love, for
that you see them somewhat fresher of colour and blacker of beard and
they go erect and jaunty and dance and joust, all which things they
have had who are somewhat more in years, ay, and these know that which
those have yet to learn. Moreover, you hold them better cavaliers and
deem that they fare more miles in a day than men of riper age. Certes,
I confess that they jumble a wench's furbelows more briskly; but those
more in years, being men of experience, know better where the fleas
stick, and little meat and savoury is far and away rather to be chosen
than much and insipid, more by token that hard trotting undoth and
wearieth folk, how young soever they be, whereas easy going, though
belike it bring one somewhat later to the inn, at the least carrieth
him thither unfatigued. You women perceive not, animals without
understanding that you are, how much ill lieth hid under this
scantling of fair seeming. Young fellows are not content with one
woman; nay, as many as they see, so many do they covet and of so many
themseemeth they are worthy; wherefore their love cannot be stable,
and of this thou mayst presently of thine own experience bear very
true witness. Themseemeth they are worthy to be worshipped and
caressed of their mistresses and they have no greater glory than to
vaunt them of those whom they have had; the which default of theirs
hath aforetime cast many a woman into the arms of the monks, who tell
no tales. Albeit thou sayst that never did any know of thine amours,
save thy maid and myself, thou knowest it ill and believest awry, an
thou think thus. His[389] quarter talketh well nigh of nothing else,
and thine likewise; but most times the last to whose ears such things
come is he to whom they pertain. Young men, to boot, despoil you,
whereas it is given you[390] of men of riper years. Since, then, thou
hast ill chosen, be thou his to whom thou gavest thyself and leave me,
of whom thou madest mock, to others, for that I have found a mistress
of much more account than thou, who hath been wise enough to know me
better than thou didst. And that thou mayst carry into the other world
greater assurance of the desire of mine eyes than meseemeth thou
gatherest from my words, do but cast thyself down forthright and thy
soul, being, as I doubt not it will be, straightway received into the
arms of the devil, will be able to see if mine eyes be troubled or not
at seeing thee fall headlong. But, as medoubteth thou wilt not consent
to do me so much pleasure, I counsel thee, if the sun begin to scorch
thee, remember thee of the cold thou madest me suffer, which an thou
mingle with the heat aforesaid, thou wilt without fail feel the sun
attempered.'
[Footnote 389: _i.e._ thy lover's.]
[Footnote 390: _V'è donato_, _i.e._ young lovers look to receive gifts
of their mistresses, whilst those of more mature age bestow them.]
The disconsolate lady, seeing that the scholar's words tended to a
cruel end, fell again to weeping and said, 'Harkye, since nothing I
can say availeth to move thee to pity of me, let the love move thee,
which thou bearest that lady whom thou hast found wiser than I and of
whom thou sayst thou art beloved, and for the love of her pardon me
and fetch me my clothes, so I may dress myself, and cause me descend