This Frederigo (as it is no rare matter in yong Gentlemen) became enamored of a Gentlewoman, named Madam Giana, who was esteemed (in her time) to be the fairest and most gracious Lady in all Florence.In which respect, and to reach the height of his desire, he made many sumptuous Feasts and Banquets, joustes, Tilties, Tournaments, and all other noble actions of Armes, beside, sending her infinite rich and costly presents, ****** spare of nothing, but lashing all out in lavish expence.Notwithstanding, she being no lesse honest then faire, made no reckoning of whatsoever he did for her sake, or the least respect of his owne person.So that Frederigo, spending thus daily more, then his meanes and ability could maintaine, and no supplies any way redounding to him, or his faculties (as very easily they might)diminished in such sort, that became so poore; as he had nothing left him, but a small poore Farme to live upon, the silly revenewes whereof were so meane, as scarcely allowed him meat and drinke; yet had he a faire Hawke or Faulcon, hardly any where to be fellowed, so expeditious and sure she was of flight.His low ebbe and poverty, no way quailing his love to the Lady, but rather setting a keener edge thereon; he saw the City life could no longer containe him, where most he coveted to abide: and therefore, betooke himselfe to his poore Countrey Farme, to let his Faulcon get him his dinner and supper, patiently supporting his penurious estate, without suite or meanes ****** to one, for helpe or reliefe in any such necessity.
While thus he continued in this extremity, it came to passe, that the Husband to Madam Giana fell sicke, and his debility of body being such, as little, or no hope of life remained: he made his last will and testament, ordaining thereby, that his Sonne (already growne to indifferent stature) should be heire to all his Lands and riches, wherein he abounded very greatly.Next unto him, if he chanced to die without a lawfull heire, he substituted his Wife, whom most dearely he affected, and so departed out of this life.Madam Giana being thus left a widdow; as commonly it is the custome of our City Dames, during the Summer season, she went to a house of her owne in the Countrey, which was somewhat neere to poore Frederigoes Farme, and where he lived in such an honest kind of contented poverty.
Hereupon, the young Gentleman her Sonne, taking great delight in Hounds and Hawkes; grew into familiarity with poore Frederigo, and having seene many faire flights of his Faulcon, they pleased him so extraordinarily, that he earnestly desired to enjoy her as his owne;yet durst not move the motion for her, because he saw how choycely Frederigo esteemed her.Within a short while after, the young Gentleman, became very sicke, whereat his Mother greeved exceedingly, (as having no more but he, and therefore loved him the more entirely) never parting from him night or day, comforting him so kindly as she could, and demanding, if he had a desire to any thing, willing him to reveale it, and assuring him withall, that (it were within the compasse of possibility) he should have it.The youth hearing how many times she had made him these offers, and with such vehement protestations of performance, at last thus spake.
Mother (quoth he) if you can do so much for me, as that I may have Frederigoes Faulcon, I am perswaded, that my sicknesse soone will cease.The Lady hearing this, sate some short while musing to her selfe, and began to consider, what she might best doe to compasse her Sonnes desire: for well she knew, how long a time Frederigo had most lovingly kept it, not suffering it ever to be out of his sight.
Moreover, shee remembred, how earnest in affection he had bene to her, never thinking himselfe happy, but onely when he was in her company;wherefore, shee entred into this private consultation with her owne thoughts.Shall I send, or goe my selfe in person, to request the Faulcon of him, it being the best that ever flew? It is his onely Jewell of delight, and that taken from him, no longer can he wish to live in this World.How farre then voyde of understanding shall I shew my selfe, to rob a Gentleman of his sole felicity, having no other joy or comfort left him? These and the like considerations, wheeled about her troubled braine, onely in tender care and love to her Sonne, perswading her selfe assuredly, that the Faulcon were her owne, if she would but request it: yet not knowing whereon it were best to resolve, shee returned no answer to her Sonne, but sate still in her silent meditations.At the length, love to the youth, so prevailed with her, that she concluded on his contentation, and (come of it what could) shee would not send for it; but go her selfe in person to request it, and then returne home againe with it: whereupon thus she spake.Sonne, comfort thy selfe, and let languishing thoughts no longer offend thee: for here I promise thee, that the first thing I do to morrow morning, shall bee my journey for the Faulcon, and assure thy selfe, that I will bring it with me.Whereat the youth was so joyed, that he imagined, his sicknesse began instantly a little to leave him, and promised him a speedy recovery.