Sore shame-stricken, Mitridanes made answer:—“Now
God forefend that I should so much as harbour, as
but now I did, such a thought, not to say do such
a deed, as to wrest from you a thing so precious as
your life, the years whereof, so far from abridging,
I would gladly supplement with mine own.”
“So then,” rejoined Nathan promptly, “thou
wouldst, if thou couldst, add thy years to mine, and
cause me to serve thee as I never yet served any man,
to wit, to take from thee that which is thine, I that
never took aught from a soul!” “Ay, that
would I,” returned Mitridanes. “Then,”
quoth Nathan, “do as I shall bid thee. Thou
art young: tarry here in my house, and call thyself
Nathan; and I will get me to thy house, and ever call
myself Mitridanes.” Whereto Mitridanes made
answer:—“Were I but able to discharge
this trust, as you have been and are, scarce would
I hesitate to accept your offer; but, as too sure am
I that aught that I might do would but serve to lower
Nathan’s fame, and I am not minded to mar that
in another which I cannot mend in myself, accept it
I will not.”
After which and the like interchange of delectable
discourse, Nathan and Mitridanes, by Nathan’s
desire, returned to the palace; where Nathan for some
days honourably entreated Mitridanes, and by his sage
counsel confirmed and encouraged him in his high and
noble resolve; after which, Mitridanes, being minded
to return home with his company, took his leave of
Nathan, fully persuaded that ’twas not possible
to surpass him in liberality.
NOVEL IV.
— Messer Gentile de’ Carisendi,
being come from Modena, disinters a lady that he loves,
who has been buried for dead. She, being reanimated,
gives birth to a male child; and Messer Gentile restores
her, with her son, to Niccoluccio Caccianimico, her
husband. —
A thing marvellous seemed it to all that for liberality
a man should be ready to sacrifice his own life; and
herein they averred that Nathan had without doubt
left the King of Spain and the Abbot of Cluny behind.
However, when they had discussed the matter diversely
and at large, the king, bending his regard on Lauretta,
signified to her his will that she should tell; and
forthwith, accordingly, Lauretta began:—Goodly
matters are they and magnificent that have been recounted
to you, young ladies; nay, so much of our field of
discourse is already filled by their grandeur, that
for us that are yet to tell, there is, methinks, no
room left, unless we seek our topic there where matter
of discourse germane to every theme does most richly
abound, to wit, in the affairs of love. For which
cause, as also for that our time of life cannot but
make us especially inclinable thereto, I am minded
that my story shall be of a feat of magnificence done
by a lover: which, all things considered, will,
peradventure, seem to you inferior to none that have
been shewn you; so it be true that to possess the
beloved one, men will part with their treasures, forget
their enmities, and jeopardize their own lives, their
honour and their reputation, in a thousand ways.
