Gentile loude one Nicoluccios wife,
Faire Catiline, a matrone graue and wise:
Whom to corrupte sith he might not deuise
He parted thence to leade a grauer life
For she was bent to scorne such masking mates,
As houerd still about her husbands gates.
Within a while this Nicoluccio,
(His Ladie great with childe) was forst to ride
In haste from home, and leaue her thore as guide:
Whom sodayne griefe assaylde by fortune so,
As Phisicke, friends, and all that sawe the chance,
Did yelde her dead, she lay in such a traunce.
The senslesse corse was to the Church conucide
And buried there with many a weeping eye:
The brute was blowne abrode both farre and nye
Reporte once spread is hardly to be stayde.
Gentile hearing how the matter went,
His Ladies losse did bitterly lament.
At length when teares had well dischargde his woe,
And sorrowe slakte, a friend of his and hee,
Tooke horse, and rode by night, that none might see
Whether they ment, or wherabout to goe.
To Church he came, dismounted from his horse,
He entred in, and vp he tooke the corse,
With full intent to dallie with the dead,
Which he in life by suite could never winne:
He coide he kist, he handled cheeke and chinne
He left no limme vnfelte from heele to head:
So long lie staide, at last the infant steerd
Within her wombe, whereby some life appeerde.
By fellowes helpe he bore the body thence,
Home to his aged mother where she dwelt:
Who moude to ruthe, with her so frendly delt,
As to reuiue her, sparde for [no] expence
She could not vse her owne with greater care,
So choyse her cheere, so daintie was hir fare.
When time was come for nature to vnfolde
Her coferd ware, this dame was brought a bed
And by Gentiles meanes had happily sped:
And he forthwith a solemne feast did holde,
Where, to the husband, both the wife and boy
Surrendred were, to his exceeding ioye.