Classic Poem

As auncient men report, there dwelt
A Merchant man of yore
In Florence, who by traficke had
Increast his stocke to more
Than any of his race had done,
A very wealthy wight:
Who on his wife begate a sonne
That (Girolamus) hight
And after time the babe was borne,
The father chaunst to die,
But (as it hapt) he made his will
Before, and orderly
Disposde his goods, as men are wont:
The carefull mother then,
A widow left, with good aduise
And ayde of learned men.
The tutors of this merchants sonne,
Both vsde the infant well,
And gaue such eye vnto his stocke
As nought to damage fell.
This childe (as common order is)
Did vse to sport and play
Among the other neighbors babes,
To driue the time away
And (as the childrens custome is,
Some one among the rest
To fancy most,) euen so this boy
Did like a mayden best,
A Taylers daughter dwelling by:
They daily vsde to meete
With sundrie other babees moe
Amid the open streete.
This liking in their tender yeeres
Shot vp and grew to more,
Euen as their limms encreast by age,
The sparke which loue before
Had kindled in her wanton brest,
Did growe to greater fire,
And Girolamus in his heart
The mayden did desire
Their daily custome came to kinde,
And looke what day that he
Had past without the sight of her,
He thought it lost to be.
And that which set the flaxe on fire,
And bred the hoter flame,
Was, that the boy did well perceiue
The mayden ment the same,
And likte aswell of him againe
The mother, when she sawe
This matter worke, began to checke,
And keepe the wagge in awe,
And whipt him now and then among:
But when she did perceiue
The stubborne stripling set her light,
And that he would not leaue
Those wanton trickes, vnsit for youth,
She woxe a wofull dame:
And to the tutors of her sonne
This pensiue widowe came,
(As one that of that crabtree thorne
An Orenge tree would fayne
Haue made, because his stocke was great,
But all her toyle was vaine)
And to the sages thus she said:
Vngracious graffe my sonne,
Scarce fourteene yeeres of age as yet,
Already hath begonne,
And entred in the snare of loue:
The wagge begins to frie
With one Saluestras liking lust,
A taylours daughter by.
So that vnlesse we wisely deale,
And warily seeme to watch,
At length (perhaps) this foolish elfe
Will with the mayden match,
And make a rash contract with her:
Which if should happen so,
From that time foorth, I should not liue
A merrie day I knowe.
Or if he should consume and wast
With thought, or pine away,
To see her matcht some other where,
Then woe were me I say.
Wherefore to voyde this present ill,
I thinke it best (quoth shee)
That you conuey him hence in hast,
If you be ruld by me.
Cause him to trauaile in affayres
Concerning Merchants trade:
For that perhaps by absence from
The maide, he may be made
To quite forget his wanton loue,
And put her out of minde,
And make some other better choyce.
Abreade the boy shall finde
A wench that is descended well,
To linke himselfe withall:
No doubt, I see him fullie bent
By loue to hazard all.
The Tutors liked well the tale
The mother widow told,
And made her promise presently
To doe the best they could,
By counsell and by good aduise,
And thereupon they sent
A messenger vnto the ympe,
That to the warehouse went,
And wild the boy to come away:
Who, being come in place,
The one began to speake him thus
With milde and friendlie face:
My sonne, sith you are past a childe,
I would your wit allow,
If you would somewhat looke about
Vnto your profite now,
And see your selfe where all goe right
That doth concerne your gaine:
We, that your tutors are, agree,
(If you will take that paine)
That you to Paris trauaile, ther
To stay a certaine space:
For there, your father, whilst he liude,
In banke your wealth did place,
Euen there your chiefest trafficke lyes:
And eke besides the same,
You shall your selfe to manners good
And better fashion frame:
By lodging in so trim a towne
Where lustie gallants be,
There shall you store of Gentlemen,
And brauest Barons see
And hauing learned their good grace,
And markt their vsage well,
You may returne you home againe,
Among your friends to dwell
The boy did note his tutors tale,
That did perswade him so,
And brieflie made answere, that
He did not minde to goe
To Paris, for he thought he mought
Aswell in Florence stay
As any one, what neede he then
To trauaile thence away.
The sages being answerde thus,
Vnto the widdow went,
And tolde the mother how her sonne,
The wilfull wag, was bent
The matrone, mad to heare the newes,
Spake not a word at all
Of Paris matters, but foorthwith
Vnto his loue did fall:
Controuling him for roysting rule,
And for his baudie life:
And did not let to tell him, how
He meant to take a wife.
But, as the mothers manner is,
For euery bitter checke,
Shee gaue her sonne a honie sop,
And hung about his necke:
And flattred him againe as fast,
And did the boy entice
By all the friendly meanes she might
To follow their aduise:
The mother widow preached had
Vnto her sonne so long,
Of this and that, and in his eare
Had sung so sweete a song:
As for a yeere to trauell well,
The boy perswaded was,
To stay in Fraunce, and so his time
In forraine Realme to passe.
I leaue the taking of his horse,
I write not of his woe:
I passe of purpose all his plaints
His countrie to forgoe.
I doe omit his bitter teares
At time of his remoue,
For those to deeme, that haue assaide
The pangs of pensiue loue.
I write not of the mothers griefe,
To bid her sonne farewell,
For that herselfe was pleasde withall
And likt his voyage well.
To Paris when this gallant came,
Loue gaue the charge anew
Vpon his heart, the fight was fierce,
A greater fancie grew
Within his bosome, than before:
The absence from her face
Might not delay the hote desire
That had this youth in chace,
And thus, the boy, that meant at first.
But for a yeere to stay,
Full two yeeres out, in burning loue
In Fraunce at Paris lay.
Which time expyrde, inwrapped more
In flakes of fancies flame,
Than when he went from Italy,
He backe to Florence came,
And being there arrivde, he heard
His auncient friend was sped:
A certaine Curten maker hapt
This wench meane while to wed
Whereat he greatly greeued was,
And vexed out of crie:
But seeing that there was no choice,
Nor other meanes to trie,
He purposde with himselfe a truce
His sorowes to expell
But at the length he had espide
Where did this damsell dwell,
And found her standing at her dore:
Then grew this youth in heate,
And as enamored wights are wont,
He gan the streetes to beate,
Both vp and downe, both to and fro,
He vsed oft to stalke
Before the Curten makers house,
In hope by often walke
That she would pitie of his paines,
And eke his torment rue,
He verily presumde that shee
Her Girolamus knewe
But fortune fell not out aright,
Shee knew the man no more,
Than one whom earst she neuer sawe
In all her life before.
Or if shee did remember him,
At least shee made in wife
She wist not who the Marchant was,
So coy she kest her eyes
On Girolamus passing by
Yet he would neuer leaue
His wonted walke, in hope at last
Some fauour to receaue:
Deuising all the meanes he might
To bring the wife againe
In minde of him, who was her loue,
Her strangenesse bred his paine.
It greeude the Marchant to the guts
That he was so forgote:
In fine he purposde with himself
(His feuer was so hote)
To speake with her, although it cost
The loosing of his life:
And heervpon, instructed by
The neighbours, where the wife
Whom he entirely loude did dwell,
Hee watcht his season so,
That when the husband and the spouse,
With other neighbours mo,
Were walkt abroade to keep the watch,
He slilie did conuey
Himselfe into Saluestras house:
And being there, he lay
Behinde the curtaines, nie the bed,
Vnspide of any man
The Curtain maker and his wife
Returned home, began
To take their rest in wonted wise
The man was sound a sleepe
As soone as he was laid in couche:
Then gan this youth to creepe,
Vpon his knees, vnto the side
Whereas Saluestra lay,
And hauing softly plast his handes
Vpon her pappes, gan say:
What are you (sweeting) yet a sleepe?
With that the wife dismaide,
Would haue exclaimde, (as women wont
In such like sort afraide)
Saue that the Marchant presently
Her friendly thus bespake:
Alas, my Deere, exclaime not now,
You need no thought to take,
For I am Girolamus, he
That tender your estate.
She hearing that, said, all afraid,
What make you here so late?
Good Girolamus get you hence,
Those youthfull yeares are spent
Wherein it was our hap to loue,
That time good faith I ment:
Then lawfull was the thing we did
But now you see that I
Am otherwise bestowde and matcht,
I must not now apply
My liking, but to him alone
Wherefore, I pray, quoth shee,
For loue of God depart this place,
Your purpose may not bee.
For if my husband wist you heere,
(Put case none other ill
Ensude thereof) yet this be sure,
I should haue chiding still:
Your being here would breede debate,
And purchase deadly strife,
Whereas with him, as now I leade
A iollie quiet life,
I am his darling well belovde.
When Girolamus had
Both heard, and noted all her talke,
Hee woxe exceeding sad
His heart was pierst with pensiue woe
To heare the tale shee tolde,
Then gan hee wrie his former loue,
And all his flame vnfolde
Declaring her, that distance had
Not slackte his burning fire:
And made request withall, that she
Should graunt him his desire.
He promisde golden mountaynes then,
But all his sute was vayne:
No iote of friendship for his life,
The merchant mought attaine
Wherefore desirous then to die,
Saluestra he besought,
That in rewarde of all his loue,
And all his former thought
Which he had suffered for her sake,
She would but yelde him grace
To warme himselfe within her bed,
Fast by her side a space:
Whose flesh in maner frozen was,
With staying there so long,
He made her promise on his faith
He would not offer wrong
Vnto Saluestra, no not once
Let fall a worde so mutch,
Nor yet her naked carkasse with
His manly members tutche:
But hauing taken there a heate,
And warmde himselfe in bed,
He would depart, and deeme that he
Sufficiently had sped.
Saluestra taking pitie then
Of Gyrolamus case,
Vpon the promise made before
Did yelde him so much grace,
As on her bed to stretch him selfe.
The youth thus being laid
Besides his mistres, toucht her not,
But with him selfe he waid
The great good wil that he so long
Within his brest had borne:
Vpon her present rigor eke
He thought, and shamefull scorne
And being brought to deep despaire,
He purposde not to liue,
But die the death without delay,
And vp the ghost to geue.
And hereupon his sprites withdrew
Themselues from outward parts,
His senses fled, he stretcht him selfe,
And so the youth departs
Fast by Saluestras sauage side
To whom he sude for grace:
When Girolam thus dead had line
Vpon her bed a space,
The wench did wonder very much
That he was woxe so chaste,
Whose flame of late so burning was
And fansie fride so fast
At length in feare her husband would
Awake, she gan to say,
Oh Gyrolamus how be this?
When wil you packe away?
But hearing him no answere make,
She thought him sound asleepe,
Which made her reach her hand, to wake
The man that slept so deepe.
She felt and found him colde as yee,
Whereof shee marueld much:
And therupon with greater force
She gan his limmes to touch,
And thrust him, but he stirred not:
With that within her head
The wife conceaued and wist ful wel
That Girolam was dead.
Whereof she was the soriest wench,
That euer liued by breath:
She knew not what to doe to see
So strange and sodaine death
But yet at last she did deuise
To feele her husbands thought
In person of another, not
As though her slefe had wrought
Or been a party in the fact.
Put case, good sir, (quoth she,)
A yonker loued a maried wife
As I my selfe mought be:
And comming to her chamber late,
In hope to winne the wife,
Were both begilde of all his hopt,
And eke berefte of life,
By only force of franticke loue
And lacke of his desire,
And want of pities water, to
Delay his scalding fire.
What would you doe in such a pinche?
How would you deale as than? — —
Whereto the husband answered, that
He would conuay the man
Vnto his home, without mistrust
Or malice to the dame
His wife, that had resisted so
The force of Cupides flame.
Which when she herd, she answered thus:
Then (husband) doth it lye
Vpon vs nowe to practise that,
And eake that tricke to trye
And taking of his hand, she put
It on the coarse that laye
Vpon the other side of her,
As colde as any kaye
Whereat the wilfull wight dismayde,
And ierst with sodaine feare,
Lepte of the bed full sore amazde,
To feele a body there
And oute he ran to light a linke,
Without debating more
Of further matter with his wife,
Of what they spake before
The candle light bewrayed the corse,
He sawe the partie playne,
He made no more adoe, but put
Him in his robes agayne,
And bore him on his shoulders thence:
And knowing verie well
His lodging, set him at the doore,
Where did his mother dwell:
When day was come, and people sawe
The carkasse of the dead
Before the gate, the fame thereof
Throughout the citie spread.
Each one did wonder at the chaunce,
That passed by the way,
They knewe the partie passing well,
But wist not what to say
Yet most of all, the mother musde,
And vexed was in minde,
That hauing searchte the body, coulde
No wounded member finde.
Which made Phisitions flatly say,
That sorowe stopte his breath:
With one assent they all agreede,
That griefe did cause his death
As custome is, the corse was borne
Into a temple by,
Where merchant men of his estate
And welthie wights did lie
The mourning mother thether came
To waile her sonnes decease,
And with the matrone thousands moe
Of neighbors more and lesse
Were come to church to shed their teares
Saluestras husband then
Perceiuing that the preace was great
Of women and of men,
Ran home and wilde his wife do on
A kerchiefe on her head:
And throng amid the wiues to heare
What newes went of the dead.
And he him selfe thrust in among
The men, to learne what they
Imaginde of the marchants death,
Where any one did say
Or had him to suspect thereof
Saluestra hereupon
Made hast to church, and felt remorse
Within her brest anone.
But all to late her pitie came,
For she desired to vew
Him being dead, whom earst aliue
She tooke disdaine to rewe,
Or recompence so much as with
A kisse. O wenche vnkind,
A maruels thing, to thinke how hard
It is for man to finde
Or founde the depth of louers thoughts,
Or knowe the force of loue:
For loe hir brest, whom Gyrolams
Good fortune might not moue,
Nor during life procure to ruth,
His death did raze hir harte,
His misaduentures did renewe
The stroke of Cupides darte.
Hir auncient flame rekindled was,
And to such pitie grewe,
When as she did the carcasse dead
Of Gyrolamus vewe,
That being but in simple weede,
As meanest women were,
By one and one she gate before
The richest matrons there,
Not stintyng till she came vnto
The body where it lay,
And being there she gaue a shoute,
And yelded forth a bray,
So loude as for hir life she could,
And groueling with hir face,
On Girolamus carcasse fell,
His bodie to imbrace
And bathde his limmes with brackish teares,
That issued from her eyes
As long as life would giue her leaue:
Which done Saluestra dyes
And looke how griefe and hidden thought,
Had slayne her desperate friend,
Euen so remorse of couerte cares,
Her loathed life did ende.
Which when the mourning matrons saw,
Eche one in friendliest wise,
To comfort her in words began,
And willd her thence to rise,
As then not witting who she was:
But at the last, when that
She would not mount, but lay me still
Vpon the body flat,
They came to lift her on her legges,
And rayse her from the grounde,
And then, both that the wife was dead,
And who she was they founde.
Saluestra then she did appeare,
Then dubble woxe the woe
Of all the wiues that mourners were,
When they the dame did knowe
Then gan they mourne as fast againe
As ere they did before,
For euery sighe, a hundred sobbes,
For euery teare a score
This brute no sooner out of Church
Among the people came,
But out of hand her husband hearde
The tidings of the same:
Who (as I said) was gone among
The men to lend an eare,
And hearken what report there went
Of them that died there
Then like a louing husband, that
Imbrast Saluestra well,
From sobbing sighes, to trickling teares,
For her misfortune fell
And waild her death no little time,
And after that, to some
That were in place, declard, by night
How Gyrolam did come
Vnto his house, through burning loue
Which he Saluestra bore,
And tolde the tale from point to point,
As I haue pend before.
Whereat the audience wofull woxe,
That vnderstood the case,
Then taking vp the carkasse of
The wife that lay in place,
And hauing knit the shrouding sheete,
As common custome is,
They layd her body on the beare,
And set her side to his.
Thus hauing wept vpon the dead
In proofe of inward paine,
And buried both together, home
The people went againe.
See lucke, whom loue was not of force,
Aliue to linke in one:
Death found the meanes to couple close,
Within a marble stone.