The Historie of John Lorde Mandozze.

[CONCLUDED FROM P. 532.]

Disappointed of his cherished hopes, the County's passion now turns into hate. Disdaining his rejection, and fearful of his Lord's wrath, he resolves to work the ruin of our heroine. Having no children, he had adopted his nephew, a youth of nineteen: him he promises to make his heir, if he will in all things follow his will; and represents to him, how, in the absence of " the old, unlusty Duke," he might win the favour of the lady, with the chance, if the Duke should die, of making her his wife, and thus paving the way to his own advancement. Persuading the youth, that he is already regarded with a gracious eye, the designing County incites him to pay his court to the Duchess by assiduous atten

tion.

"This simple youthe beleves

his oncles wretched wyles.

The craftye fowler's pype full sone
the selye byrde beguyles;
He thinkes that all is gould
that glystreth to the eye,
The tutcstone of experyence

he wantes the same to trye."

The Duchess, imputing his attentions to diligence in her service, prefers him above the other pages. This escapes not the notice of the watchful Pancalir, who insinuates to the youth, that nothing but a little boldness was necessary to the completion of his purpose; and directs him to secrete himself under the bed of the Duchess

"Tyll after mydnight past an howre
at least still to abyde.
And when she dothe begyn
in depest sleape to fall:
From underneath the bed,
aryse furthwith you shall:
And bravely commynge to
her bed, you shall declare

That

That love dyd cause your comminge theare,

& tell her who you are.

So be you sure of thys,

what for her fervent love

And absence of the Duke so longe;

both these lykewyse wyll move Her, then in foulded armes

most lovynglye tembrace

The sone, & chear thy hart with joyes
of lover's sweete solace."

The treacherous County, having now obtained his object, at midnight calls three of the council, and attended by the guard, furiously rushes into the lady's chamber; and searching every place, drags out his trembling nephew from underneath the bed, and dis- patches him, before he has power to say a word. Then putting his bloody sword into its sheath, he addresses himself to the wondering counsellors:

My frendes (sayth he) this same
was not fyrste tyme, that I
The wanton & unhonest love
betwene them dyd espye.
But now at last, I found

a tyme the truth to trye;
But yet this gloton heare, I made
to fayre a death to dye.
For his desert requyres

by rygour of the lawe;

That horses wyld, in quarters shold,

his traytrous bodye drawe.

As for my Ladye heare,

the Duchesse, at this tyme
I leave; I can no punyshment
determyne for her cryme.
You know the customes ould
of Savoye, do requyre;
That Ladyes of adulterye
convicted, should in fyre
Be burned quycke, if they
within a yeare and daye,
Fynd not a champion, which
in theyr behalfe will fyght

The combate: by his force in feyld
for to defend their ryght.

But

But for the allegyance of
my dutye, which I owe
Unto my Lorde the Duke, I wyll,
by letters let him knowe
Heareof. And so the while

the Duchess shall remayne
Within her chaumber close, & have
with her one mayde or twayne."

The Duchess, amid her anguish and amazement, casting her eyes on the unfortunate page's bloody corpse, laments his undeserved fate, and entreats the attendants to bestow decent burial. Her compassion increases their conviction of her guilt. Meantime the triumphant traitor dispatches two couriers to the Duke her husband, and the King of England her brother, who are led to give more implicit credit to the report, on hearing of the summary vengeance inflicted by the County upon his adopted kinsman. The Kings of England and France agree that the Duchess should suffer the punishment prescribed by the laws of her country, and send presents to Pancalir, in compliment to his fidelity. The Duke, after some pause, accedes to their verdict, and commands justice to be straightly executed.

At this disastrous period, Emblin again comes in to the aid of her mistress;-by her advice the Duchess writes secretly to Mandozze, acquainting him with her pitiable case, and entreating succour. Sir Appian, the aforesaid physician, is entrusted with the momentous charge; and the caresses of Emblin are bestowed with good effect.

"He trotteth now about

his busines, by and by

He pratleth to hym selfe apace,

as pleaseant as a Pye.

And sondry notes he tuneth to

the name of Emelye."

But on his arrival he finds to his amazement the overwhelming forces of Tolledo besieging the Lord Mandozze, in a little town to which his discomforted followers had fled. Sir Apppian perceiving guile necessary, presents himself to a captain of the besieging army, to fight under

his

his command; and on the first skirmish, thrusting into the thickest fray, is taken prisoner, and thus obtains access to the besieged Lord, and executes his mission. Mandozze, whose love has waxed cool, excuses himself, by the perilousness of his own situation: and dismisses the messenger, who returns to Turin with the doleful

news.

The sparks of affection are, however, revived in the Spaniard's breast, by reflecting on the misery of the Lady, who had abandoned all in her prosperity to visit him, but who in her woe he had thus forsaken. Stung with this imputation upon his knightly honour, he leaves the besieged town, and travelling alone, with "horse and harnesse," upon his arrival at Turin enquires if there are any Spaniards in the town.

"And so he heares

But of one olde relygious man
which theare this twenty yeares

Had ben. An holie man

and eke beloved well,

Of all the cytezens: whych then
without the towne did dwell
Alone, in cottage lowe,

that he might so eschew,

The love & lust of worldly thinges,

his flesh for to subdew."

But

To this recluse he opens the purpose of his coming, who endeavours to dissuade him from so perilous a trial, as single combat with the unconquerable County. resolved in his purpose, if he can be assured of the Lady's innocence, he requests the hermit to procure him garments such as his; and with shaven beard and polled head, the Prince accompanies his reverend companion to the castle of Turin, where they announce themselves as come to comfort the condemned with ghostly exhortation.

By the Duchess's confession, her disguised counsellor is fully convinced of the iniquity of her accuser and her own perfect innocence; and his visit having obtained her much comfort, she as the only mark of thankfulness in her power, presents him on his departure with a diamond ring given by her brother on her wedding-day.

A Knight

A Knight in complete armour now makes his entrance into the city, and loudly challenges the County Pancalier to maintain his unjust accusation. The citizens flock to the churches, to implore the champion's success, who takes his stand against the marble pillar whereon the accusation is written.

This unexpected interposition terrifies the guilty accuser, who, seeking delays, sends to require the Knight's

name:

"To whom Mandozze stoutly sayth,

he shall not knowe the same.

But sure for all the rest,

what power in hym doth lye,
He shall it know & feele forthwith

if then he lyste to trye."

The judges confirm the champion's right to withhold his name:

"And further in the case

the lawyers all do saye;

How that thaccused partye ought

to see the fyght alwaye:

And reason yelde, not for

because theyr bookes so be:

But in favorem vitæ was

the cause of that decree."

The County must now of necessity meet the champion in arms; so rousing his staggered courage he comes, and finds his antagonist arrayed in black armour, prancing boldly up and down. The Duchess and her ladies are now sent for: and they arrive, much wondering who this unexpected warrior should be. The judges then demand of her whether she will accept this Knight for her champion? She replies, that she reposes her right in God and him.

"Mandozze now, no more

the Countie can abyde:

But raigyng then wyth count'nance fearce,
to him forthw1. doth ride.

And sayth, Thou traytour, I
do now most playnlie see,
Thy accusacion agaynst
this Pryncesse, falce to bee.

Inuented