Somewhat early the next morning, the Lady, in care of her sicke Sons health, was up and ready betimes, and taking another Gentlewoman with her; onely as a morning recreation, shee walked to Frederigoes poore Countrey Farme, knowing that it would not a little glad him to see her.At the time of her arrivall there, he was (by chance) in a silly Garden, on the backe-side of the a si House, because (as yet) it was no convenient time for flight: but when he heard, that Madam Glana was come thither, and desired to have some conference with him; as one almost confounded with admiration, in all hast he ran to her, and saluted her with most humble reverence.She in all modest and gracious manner, requited him with the like salutations, thus speaking to him.Signior Frederigo, your owne best wishes befriend you, I am now come hither, to recompence some part of your passed travailes, which heretofore you pretended traval I to suffer for my sake, when your love was more to me, then did well become you to offer, or my selfe to accept.And such is the nature of my recompence, that I make my selfe your guest, and meane this day to dine with as also this Gentlewoman, making no doubt of our welcome: whereto, with lowly reverence, thus he replyed.
Madam, I doe not remember, that ever I sustained any losse or hinderance by you, but rather so much good, as if I was worth any thing, it proceeded from your great deservings, and by the service in which I did stand engaged to you.But my present happinesse can no way be equalled, derived from your super-abounding gracious favour, and more then common course of kindnesse, vouchsafing (of your owne liberall nature) to come and visit so poore a servant.Oh that I had as much to spend againe, as heretofore riotously I have runne thorow: what a welcome would your poore Host bestow upon you, for gracing; this homely house with your divine presence? With these wordes, he conducted her into his house, and then into his simple Garden, where having no convenient company for her, he said.Madam, the poverty of this place is such, that it affoordeth none fit for your conversation: this poore woman, wife to an honest Husbandman will attend on you, while I (with some speede) shall make ready dinner.
Poore Frederigo, although his necessity was extreame, and his greefe great, remembring his former inordinate expences, a moity whereof would now have stood him in some stead; yet he had a heart as free and forward as ever, not a jotte dejected in his minde, though utterly overthrowne by Fortune.Alas! how was his good soule afflicted, that he had nothing wherewith to honour his Lady? Up and downe he runnes, one while this way, then againe another, exclaiming on his disastrous Fate, like a man enraged, or bereft of senses: for he had not one peny of mony neither pawne or pledge, wherewith to procure any.The time hasted on, and he would gladly (though in meane measure)expresse his honourable respect of the Lady.To begge of any, his nature denied it, and to borrow he could not, because his neighbours were all as needie as himselfe.
At last, looking round about, and seeing his Faulcon standing on her pearch, which he felt to be very plumpe and fat, being voyde of all other helpes in his neede, and thinking her to be a Fowle meete for so Noble a Lady to feede on: without any further demurring or delay, he pluckt off her necke, and caused the poore woman presently to pull her Feathers: which being done, he put her on the spit, and in short time she was daintily roasted.Himselfe covered the Table, set bread and salt on and laid the Napkins, whereof he had but a few left him.
Going then with chearfull lookes into the Garden, telling the Lady that dinner was ready, and nothing now wanted, but her presence.Shee, and the Gentlewoman went in, and being sated at the Table, not knowing what they fed on, the Faulcon was all their foode; and Frederigo not a little joyfull, that his credite was so well saved.When they were risen from the table, and had spent some small time in familiar conference: the Lady thought it fit, to acquaint him with the reason of her comming thither, and therefore (in very kinde manner) thus began.
Frederigo, if you do yet remember your former carriage towards mee, as also my many modest and chaste denials, which (perhaps) you thought to savour of a harsh, cruell, and un-womanly nature, I make no doubt, but you will wonder at my present presumption, when you understand the occasion, which expressely mooved me to come hither.
But if you were possessed of children, or ever had any, whereby you might comprehend what love (in nature) is due unto them: then Idurst assure my selfe, that you would partly hold me excused.
Now, in regard that you never had any, and my selfe (for my part)have but onely one, I stand not exempted from those Lawes, which are in common to other mothers.And being compelled to obey the power of those Lawes; contrary to mine owne will, and those duties which reason owne wi ought to maintaine, I am to request such a gift of you, which I am certaine, that you do make most precious account of, as in manly equity you can do no lesse.For Fortune hath bin so extreamly adverse to you, that she hath robbed you of all other pleasures, allowing you no comfort or delight, but onely that poore one, which is your faire Faulcone.Of which Bird, my Sonne is become so strangely desirous, as, if I doe not bring it to him at my comming home; I feare so much, the extreamity of his sicknesse, as nothing can ensue thereon, but his losse of life.Wherefore I beseech you, not in regard of the love you have borne me, for therby you stand no way obliged:
but in your owne true gentle nature (the which hath alwayes declared it selfe ready in you, to do more kinde offices generally, then any other Gentleman that I know) you will be pleased to give her me, or at the least, let me buy her of you.
Which if you do, I shall freely then confesse, that onely by your meanes, my Sonnes life is saved, and we both shall for ever remaine engaged to you.
