{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_1666/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_1666","id":"gutenberg_1666","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1666","summary":null,"tags":["Banned Books from Anne Haight's list","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Classical Antiquity","Classical literature","Metamorphosis -- Fiction"],"text":"The Golden Asse\n\nby Lucius Apuleius _\u201cAfricanus\u201d_\n\nTranslated by William Adlington\n\nFirst published 1566 This version as reprinted\nfrom the edition of 1639. The original spelling,\ncapitalisation and punctuation have been retained.\n\n\nContents\n\n Dedication\n The Life of Lucius Apuleius Briefly Described\n The Preface of the Author To His Sonne, Faustinus\n\n THE FIRST BOOKE\n THE FIRST CHAPTER\n THE SECOND CHAPTER\n THE THIRD CHAPTER\n THE FOURTH CHAPTER\n THE FIFTH CHAPTER\n THE SIXTH CHAPTER\n THE SEVENTH CHAPTER\n\n THE SECOND BOOKE\n THE EIGHTH CHAPTER\n THE NINTH CHAPTER\n THE TENTH CHAPTER\n THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER\n\n THE THIRD BOOKE\n THE TWELFTH CHAPTER\n THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER\n THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER\n THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER\n THE SIXTEENTH CHAPTER\n THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER\n\n THE FOURTH BOOKE\n THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER\n THE NINETEENTH CHAPTER\n THE TWENTIETH CHAPTER\n THE TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER\n\n THE MARRIAGE OF CUPID AND PSYCHES\n THE TWENTY-SECOND CHAPTER\n\n THE SIXTH BOOKE\n THE TWENTY-THIRD CHAPTER\n\n THE SEVENTH BOOKE\n THE TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER\n THE TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER\n THE TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER\n THE TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER\n THE TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER\n THE TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER\n THE THIRTIETH CHAPTER\n THE THIRTY-FIRST CHAPTER\n\n THE EIGHTH BOOKE\n THE THIRTY-SECOND CHAPTER\n THE THIRTY-THIRD CHAPTER\n THE THIRTY-FOURTH CHAPTER\n THE THIRTY-FIFTH CHAPTER\n THE THIRTY-SIXTH CHAPTER\n\n THE NINTH BOOKE\n THE THIRTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER\n THE THIRTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER\n THE THIRTY-NINTH CHAPTER\n THE FORTIETH CHAPTER\n THE FORTY-FIRST CHAPTER\n THE FORTY-SECOND CHAPTER\n THE FORTY-THIRD CHAPTER\n\n THE TENTH BOOKE\n THE FORTY-FOURTH CHAPTER\n THE FORTY-FIFTH CHAPTER\n THE FORTY-SIXTH CHAPTER\n\n THE ELEVENTH BOOKE\n THE FORTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER\n THE FORTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER\n\n\n\n\nDedication\n\n\nTo the Right Honourable and Mighty Lord, THOMAS EARLE OF SUSSEX,\nViscount Fitzwalter, Lord of Egremont and of Burnell, Knight of the\nmost noble Order of the Garter, Iustice of the forrests and Chases from\nTrent Southward; Captain of the Gentleman Pensioners of the House of\nthe QUEENE our Soveraigne Lady.\n\nAfter that I had taken upon me (right Honourable) in manner of that\nunlearned and foolish Poet, Cherillus, who rashly and unadvisedly\nwrought a big volume in verses, of the valiant prowesse of Alexander\nthe Great, to translate this present booke, contayning the\nMetamorphosis of Lucius Apuleius; being mooved thereunto by the right\npleasant pastime and delectable matter therein; I eftsoones consulted\nwith myself, to whom I might best offer so pleasant and worthy a work,\ndevised by the author, it being now barbarously and simply framed in\nour English tongue. And after long deliberation had, your honourable\nlordship came to my remembrance, a man much more worthy, than to whom\nso homely and rude a translation should be presented. But when I again\nremembred the jesting and sportfull matter of the booke, unfit to be\noffered to any man of gravity and wisdome, I was wholly determined to\nmake no Epistle Dedicatory at all; till as now of late perswaded\nthereunto by my friends, I have boldly enterprised to offer the same to\nyour Lordship, who as I trust wil accept the same, than if it did\nentreat of some serious and lofty matter, light and merry, yet the\neffect thereof tendeth to a good and vertuous moral, as in the\nfollowing Epistle to the reader may be declared. For so have all\nwriters in times past employed their travell and labours, that their\nposterity might receive some fruitfull profit by the same. And therfore\nthe poets feined not their fables in vain, considering that children in\ntime of their first studies, are very much allured thereby to proceed\nto more grave and deepe studies and disciplines, whereas their mindes\nwould quickly loath the wise and prudent workes of learned men, wherein\nin such unripe years they take no spark of delectation at all. And not\nonly that profit ariseth to children by such feined fables, but also\nthe vertues of men are covertly thereby commended, and their vices\ndiscommended and abhorred. For by the fable of Actaeon, where it is\nfeigned that he saw Diana washing her selfe in a well, hee was\nimmediately turned into an Hart, and so was slain of his own Dogs; may\nbee meant, That when a man casteth his eyes on the vain and soone\nfading beauty of the world, consenting thereto in his minde, hee\nseemeth to bee turned into a brute beast, and so to be slain by the\ninordinate desire of his owne affects. By Tantalus that stands in the\nmidst of the floud Eridan, having before him a tree laden with pleasant\napples, he being neverthelesse always thirsty and hungry, betokeneth\nthe insatiable desires of covetous persons. The fables of Atreus,\nThiestes, Tereus and Progne signifieth the wicked and abhominable facts\nwrought and attempted by mortall men. The fall of Icarus is an example\nto proud and arrogant persons, that weeneth to climb up to the heavens.\nBy Mydas, who obtained of Bacchus, that all things which he touched\nmight be gold, is carped the foul sin of avarice. By Phaeton, that\nunskilfully took in hand to rule the chariot of the Sunne, are\nrepresented those persons which attempt things passing their power and\ncapacity. By Castor and Pollux, turned into a signe in heaven called\nGemini, is signified, that vertuous and godly persons shall be rewarded\nafter life with perpetuall blisse. And in this feined jest of Lucius\nApuleius is comprehended a figure of mans life, ministring most sweet\nand delectable matter, to such as shall be desirous to reade the same.\nThe which if your honourable lordship shall accept and take in good\npart, I shall not onely thinke my small travell and labour well\nemployed, but also receive a further comfort to attempt some more\nserious matter, which may be more acceptable to your Lordship: desiring\nthe same to excuse my rash and bold enterprise at this time, as I\nnothing doubt of your Lordships goodnesse. To whome I beseech Almighty\nGod to impart long life, with encrease of much honour.\n\nFrom Vniversity Colledge in Oxenforde, the xviij. of September, 1566.\n\nYour Honours most bounden,\n\nWIL. ADLINGTON.\n\n\n\n\nThe Life of Lucius Apuleius Briefly Described\n\n\nLUCIUS APULEIUS African, an excellent follower of Plato his sect, born\nin Madaura, a Countrey sometime inhabited by the Romans, and under the\njurisdiction of Syphax, scituate and lying on the borders of Numidia\nand Getulia, whereby he calleth himself half a Numidian and half a\nGetulian: and Sidonius named him the Platonian Madaurence: his father\ncalled Theseus had passed all offices of dignity in his countrey with\nmuch honour. His mother named Salvia was of such excellent vertue, that\nshe passed all the Dames of her time, borne of an ancient house, and\ndescended from the philosopher Plutarch, and Sextus his nephew. His\nwife called Prudentila was endowed with as much vertue and riches as\nany woman might be. Hee himselfe was of an high and comely stature,\ngray eyed, his haire yellow, and a beautiful personage. He flourished\nin Carthage in the time of Iolianus Avitus and Cl. Maximus Proconsuls,\nwhere he spent his youth in learning the liberall sciences, and much\nprofited under his masters there, whereby not without cause hee calleth\nhimself the Nource of Carthage, and the celestial Muse and venerable\nmistresse of Africke. Soone after, at Athens (where in times past the\nwell of all doctrine flourished) he tasted many of the cups of the\nmuses, he learned the Poetry, Geometry, Musicke, Logicke, and the\nuniversall knowledge of Philosophy, and studied not in vaine the nine\nMuses, that is to say, the nine noble and royal disciplines.\n\nImmediately after he went to Rome, and studied there the Latine tongue,\nwith such labour and continuall study, that he achieved to great\neloquence, and was known and approved to be excellently learned,\nwhereby he might worthily be called Polyhistor, that is to say, one\nthat knoweth much or many things.\n\nAnd being thus no lesse endued with eloquence, than with singular\nlearning, he wrote many books for them that should come after: whereof\npart by negligence of times be now intercepted and part now extant, doe\nsufficiently declare, with how much wisdome and doctrine hee\nflourished, and with how much vertue hee excelled amongst the rude and\nbarbarous people. The like was Anacharsis amongst the most luskish\nScythes. But amongst the Bookes of Lucius Apuleius, which are perished\nand prevented, howbeit greatly desired as now adayes, one was intituled\nBanquetting questions, another entreating of the nature of fish,\nanother of the generation of beasts, another containing his Epigrams,\nanother called \u201cHermagoras\u201d: but such as are now extant are the foure\nbooks named \u201cFloridorum\u201d, wherein is contained a flourishing stile, and\na savory kind of learning, which delighteth, holdeth, and rejoiceth the\nreader marvellously; wherein you shall find a great variety of things,\nas leaping one from another: One excellent and copious Oration,\ncontaining all the grace and vertue of the art Oratory, where he\ncleareth himself of the crime of art Magick, which was slanderously\nobjected against him by his Adversaries, wherein is contained such\nforce of eloquence and doctrine, as he seemeth to passe and excell\nhimselfe. There is another booke of the god of the spirit of Socrates,\nwhereof St. Augustine maketh mention in his booke of the definition of\nspirits, and description of men. Two other books of the opinion of\nPlato, wherein is briefly contained that which before was largely\nexpressed. One booke of Cosmography, comprising many things of\nAristotles Meteors. The Dialogue of Trismegistus, translated by him out\nof Greeke into Latine, so fine, that it rather seemeth with more\neloquence turned into Latine, than it was before written in Greeke. But\nprincipally these eleven Bookes of the \u201cGolden Asse\u201d, are enriched with\nsuch pleasant matter, with such excellency and variety of flourishing\ntales, that nothing may be more sweet and delectable, whereby worthily\nthey may be intituled The Bookes of the \u201cGolden Asse\u201d, for the passing\nstile and matter therein. For what can be more acceptable than this\nAsse of Gold indeed. Howbeit there be many who would rather intitule it\n\u201cMetamorphosis\u201d, that is to say, a transfiguration or transformation,\nby reason of the argument and matter within.\n\n\n\n\nThe Preface of the Author To His Sonne, Faustinus\n\n\nAnd unto the Readers of this Book\n\n\nThat I to thee some joyous jests\n    may show in gentle gloze,\nAnd frankly feed thy bended eares\n    with passing pleasant prose:\nSo that thou daine in seemly sort\n    this wanton booke to view,\nThat is set out and garnisht fine,\n    with written phrases new.\nI will declare how one by hap\n    his humane figure lost,\nAnd how in brutish formed shape,\n    his loathed life he tost.\nAnd how he was in course of time\n    from such a state unfold,\nWho eftsoone turn\u2019d to pristine shape\n    his lot unlucky told.\n\n\nWhat and who he was attend a while, and you shall understand that it\nwas even I, the writer of mine own Metamorphosie and strange alteration\nof figure. Hymettus, Athens, Isthmia, Ephire Tenaros, and Sparta, being\nfat and fertile soiles (as I pray you give credit to the bookes of more\neverlasting fame) be places where myne antient progeny and linage did\nsometime flourish: there I say, in Athens, when I was yong, I went\nfirst to schoole. Soone after (as a stranger) I arrived at Rome,\nwhereas by great industry, and without instruction of any schoolmaster,\nI attained to the full perfection of the Latine tongue. Behold, I first\ncrave and beg your pardon, lest I should happen to displease or offend\nany of you by the rude and rusticke utterance of this strange and\nforrein language. And verily this new alteration of speech doth\ncorrespond to the enterprised matter whereof I purpose to entreat, I\nwill set forth unto you a pleasant Grecian feast. Whereunto gentle\nReader if thou wilt give attendant eare, it will minister unto thee\nsuch delectable matter as thou shalt be contented withall.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius riding in Thessaly, fortuned to fall into company with two\nstrangers, that reasoned together of the mighty power of Witches.\n\n\nAs I fortuned to take my voyage into Thessaly, about certaine affaires\nwhich I had to doe (for there myne auncestry by my mothers side\ninhabiteth, descended of the line of that most excellent person\nPlutarch, and of Sextus the Philosopher his Nephew, which is to us a\ngreat honour) and after that by much travell and great paine I had\npassed over the high mountaines and slipperie vallies, and had ridden\nthrough the cloggy fallowed fields; perceiving that my horse did wax\nsomewhat slow, and to the intent likewise that I might repose and\nstrengthen my self (being weary with riding) I lighted off my horse,\nand wiping the sweat from every part of his body, I unbrideled him, and\nwalked him softly in my hand, to the end he might pisse, and ease\nhimself of his weariness and travell: and while he went grazing freshly\nin the field (casting his head sometimes aside, as a token of rejoycing\nand gladnesse) I perceived a little before me two companions riding,\nand so I overtaking them made a third. And while I listened to heare\ntheir communication, the one of them laughed and mocked his fellow,\nsaying, Leave off I pray thee and speak no more, for I cannot abide to\nheare thee tell such absurd and incredible lies; which when I heard, I\ndesired to heare some newes, and said, I pray you masters make me\npartaker of your talk, that am not so curious as desirous to know all\nyour communication: so shall we shorten our journey, and easily passe\nthis high hill before us, by merry and pleasant talke.\n\nBut he that laughed before at his fellow, said againe, Verily this tale\nis as true, as if a man would say that by sorcery and inchantment the\nfloods might be inforced to run against their course, the seas to be\nimmovable, the aire to lacke the blowing of windes, the Sunne to be\nrestrained from his naturall race, the Moone to purge his skimme upon\nherbes and trees to serve for sorceries: the starres to be pulled from\nheaven, the day to be darkened and the dark night to continue still.\nThen I being more desirous to heare his talke than his companions,\nsayd, I pray you, that began to tell your tale even now, leave not off\nso, but tell the residue. And turning to the other I sayd, You\nperhappes that are of an obstinate minde and grosse eares, mocke and\ncontemme those things which are reported for truth, know you not that\nit is accounted untrue by the depraved opinion of men, which either is\nrarely seene, seldome heard, or passeth the capacitie of mans reason,\nwhich if it be more narrowly scanned, you shall not onely finde it\nevident and plaine, but also very easy to be brought to passe.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius told to the strangers, what he saw a jugler do in Athens.\n\n\nThe other night being at supper with a sort of hungry fellowes, while I\ndid greedily put a great morsel of meate in my mouth, that was fried\nwith the flower of cheese and barley, it cleaved so fast in the passage\nof my throat and stopped my winde in such sort that I was well nigh\nchoked. And yet at Athens before the porch there called Peale, I saw\nwith these eyes a jugler that swallowed up a two hand sword, with a\nvery keene edge, and by and by for a little money that we who looked on\ngave him, hee devoured a chasing speare with the point downeward. And\nafter that hee had conveyed the whole speare within the closure of his\nbody, and brought it out againe behind, there appeared on the top\nthereof (which caused us all to marvell) a faire boy pleasant and\nnimble, winding and turning himself in such sort, that you would\nsuppose he had neither bone nor gristle, and verily thinke that he were\nthe naturall Serpent, creeping and sliding on the knotted staffe, which\nthe god of Medicine is feigned to beare. But turning me to him that\nbegan his tale, I pray you (quoth I) follow your purpose, and I alone\nwill give credit unto you, and for your paynes will pay your charges at\nthe next Inne we come unto. To whom he answered Certes sir I thank you\nfor your gentle offer, and at your request I wil proceed in my tale,\nbut first I will sweare unto you by the light of this Sunne that\nshineth here, that those things shall be true, least when you come to\nthe next city called Thessaly, you should doubt any thing of that which\nis rife in the mouthes of every person, and done before the face of all\nmen. And that I may first make relation to you, what and who I am, and\nwhither I go, and for what purpose, know you that I am of Egin,\ntravelling these countries about from Thessaly to Etolia, and from\nEtolia to Boetia, to provide for honey, cheese, and other victuals to\nsell againe: and understanding that at Hippata (which is the principall\ncity of all Thessaly), is accustomed to be soulde new cheeses of\nexceeding good taste and relish, I fortuned on a day to go thither, to\nmake my market there: but as it often happeneth, I came in an evill\nhoure; for one Lupus a purveyor had bought and ingrossed up all the day\nbefore, and so I was deceived.\n\nWherefore towards night being very weary, I went to the Baines to\nrefresh my selfe, and behold, I fortuned to espy my companion Socrates\nsitting upon the ground, covered with a torn and course mantle; who was\nso meigre and of so sallow and miserable a countenance, that I scantly\nknew him: for fortune had brought him into such estate and calamity,\nthat he verily seemed as a common begger that standeth in the streets\nto crave the benevolence of the passers by. Towards whom (howbeit he\nwas my singular friend and familiar acquaintance, yet half in despaire)\nI drew nigh and said, Alas my Socrates, what meaneth this? how faireth\nit with thee? What crime hast thou committed? verily there is great\nlamentation and weeping for thee at home: Thy children are in ward by\ndecree of the Provinciall Judge: Thy wife (having ended her mourning\ntime in lamentable wise, with face and visage blubbered with teares, in\nsuch sort that she hath well nigh wept out both her eyes) is\nconstrained by her parents to put out of remembrance the unfortunate\nlosse and lacke of thee at home, and against her will to take a new\nhusband. And dost thou live here as a ghost or hogge, to our great\nshame and ignominy?\n\nThen he answered he to me and said, O my friend Aristomenus, now\nperceive I well that you are ignorant of the whirling changes, the\nunstable forces, and slippery inconstancy of Fortune: and therewithall\nhe covered his face (even then blushing for very shame) with his rugged\nmantle insomuch that from his navel downwards he appeared all naked.\n\nBut I not willing to see him any longer in such great miserie and\ncalamitie, took him by the hand and lifted him up from the ground: who\nhaving his face covered in such sort, Let Fortune (quoth he) triumph\nyet more, let her have her sway, and finish that which shee hath begun.\nAnd therewithall I put off one of my garments and covered him, and\nimmediately I brought him to the Baine, and caused him to be anointed,\nwiped, and the filthy scurfe of his body to be rubbed away; which done,\nthough I were very weary my selfe, yet I led the poore miser to my\nInne, where he reposed his body upon a bed, and then I brought him meat\nand drinke, and so wee talked together: for there we might be merry and\nlaugh at our pleasure, and so we were, untill such time as he (fetching\na pittifull sigh from the bottom of his heart, and beating his face in\nmiserable sort), began to say.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRD CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Socrates in his returne from Macedony to Larissa was spoyled and\nrobbed, and how he fell acquainted with one Meroe a Witch.\n\n\nAlas poore miser that I am, that for the onely desire to see a game of\ntriall of weapons, am fallen into these miseries and wretched snares of\nmisfortune. For in my returne from Macedonie, wheras I sould all my\nwares, and played the Merchant by the space of ten months, a little\nbefore that I came to Larissa, I turned out of the way, to view the\nscituation of the countrey there, and behold in the bottom of a deep\nvalley I was suddenly environed with a company of theeves, who robbed\nand spoiled me of such things as I had, and yet would hardly suffer me\nto escape. But I beeing in such extremity, in the end was happily\ndelivered from their hands, and so I fortuned to come to the house of\nan old woman that sold wine, called Meroe, who had her tongue\nsufficiently instructed to flattery: unto whom I opened the causes of\nmy long peregrination and careful travell, and of myne unlucky\nadventure: and after that I had declared to her such things as then\npresently came to my remembrance, shee gently entertained mee and made\nmee good cheere; and by and by being pricked with carnall desire, shee\nbrought me to her own bed chamber; whereas I poore miser the very first\nnight of our lying together did purchase to my selfe this miserable\nface, and for her lodging I gave to her such apparel as the theeves\nleft to cover me withall.\n\nThen I understanding the cause of his miserable estate, sayd unto him,\nIn faith thou art worthy to sustaine the most extreame misery and\ncalamity, which hast defiled and maculated thyne owne body, forsaken\nthy wife traitorously, and dishonoured thy children, parents, and\nfriends, for the love of a vile harlot and old strumpet. When Socrates\nheard mee raile against Meroe in such sort, he held up his finger to\nmee, and as halfe abashed sayd, Peace peace I pray you, and looking\nabout lest any body should heare, I pray you (quoth he) I pray you take\nheed what you say against so venerable a woman as shee is, lest by your\nintemperate tongue you catch some harm. Then with resemblance of\nadmiration, What (quoth I) is she so excellent a person as you name her\nto be? I pray you tell me. Then answered hee, Verily shee is a\nMagitian, which hath power to rule the heavens, to bringe downe the\nsky, to beare up the earth, to turne the waters into hills and the\nhills into running waters, to lift up the terrestrial spirits into the\naire, and to pull the gods out of the heavens, to extinguish the\nplanets, and to lighten the deepe darknesse of hell. Then sayd I unto\nSocrates, Leave off this high and mysticall kinde of talke, and tell\nthe matter in a more plaine and simple fashion. Then answered he, Will\nyou hear one or two, or more of her facts which she hath done, for\nwhereas she enforceth not onely the inhabitants of the countrey here,\nbut also the Indians and the Ethiopians the one and the other, and also\nthe Antictons, to love her in most raging sort, such as are but trifles\nand chips of her occupation, but I pray you give eare, and I will\ndeclare of more greater matters, which shee hath done openly and before\nthe face of all men.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Meroe the Witch turned divers persons into miserable beasts.\n\n\nIn faith Aristomenus to tell you the truth, this woman had a certaine\nLover, whom by the utterance of one only word she turned into a Bever,\nbecause he loved another woman beside her: and the reason why she\ntransformed him into such a beast is, for that it is his nature, when\nhee perceiveth the hunters and hounds to draw after him, to bite off\nhis members, and lay them in the way, that the hounds may be at a stop\nwhen they find them, and to the intent it might so happen unto him (for\nthat he fancied another woman) she turned him into that kind of shape.\n\nSemblably she changed one of her neighbours, being an old man and one\nthat sold wine, into a Frog, in that he was one of her occupation, and\ntherefore she bare him a grudge, and now the poore miser swimming in\none of his pipes of wine, and well nigh drowned in the dregs, doth cry\nand call with an hoarse voice, for his old guests and acquaintance that\npass by. Like wise she turned one of the Advocates of the Court\n(because he pleaded and spake against her in a rightful cause) into a\nhorned Ram, and now the poore Ram is become an Advocate. Moreover she\ncaused, that the wife of a certain lover that she had should never be\ndelivered of her childe, but according to the computation of all men,\nit is eight yeares past since the poore woman first began to swell, and\nnow shee is encreased so big, that shee seemeth as though she would\nbring forth some great Elephant: which when it was knowne abroad, and\npublished throughout all the towne, they tooke indignation against her,\nand ordayned that the next day shee should most cruelly be stoned to\ndeath. Which purpose of theirs she prevented by the vertue of her\ninchantments, and as Medea (who obtained of King Creon but one days\nrespit before her departure) did burn all his house, him, and his\ndaughter: so she, by her conjurations and invocations of spirits,\n(which she useth in a certaine hole in her house, as shee her selfe\ndeclared unto me the next day following) closed all the persons in the\ntowne so sure in their houses, and with such violence of power, that\nfor the space of two dayes they could not get forth, nor open their\ngates nor doore, nor break downe their walls, whereby they were\ninforced by mutuall consent to cry unto her, and to bind themselves\nstrictly by oaths, that they would never afterwards molest or hurt her:\nand moreover, if any did offer her any injury they would be ready to\ndefend her. Whereupon shee, mooved by their promises, and stirred by\npitty, released all the towne. But shee conveyed the principal Author\nof this ordinance about midnight, with all his house, the walls, the\nground, and the foundation, into another towne, distant from thence an\nhundred miles, scituate and beeing on the top of an high hill, and by\nreason thereof destitute of water, and because the edifices and houses\nwere so nigh built together, that it was not possible for the house to\nstand there, she threw it downe before the gate of the towne. Then I\nspake and said O my friend Socrates you have declared unto me many\nmarvellous things and strange chances, and moreover stricken me with no\nsmall trouble of minde, yea rather with great feare, lest the same old\nwoman using the like practice, should fortune to heare all our\ncommunication. Wherefore let us now sleepe, and after that we have\ntaken our rest, let us rise betimes in the morning, and ride away hence\nbefore day, as far as we can possible.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIFTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Socrates and Aristomenus slept together in one Chamber, and how\nthey were handled by Witches.\n\n\nIn speaking these words, and devising with my selfe of our departing\nthe next morrow, lest Meroe the witch should play by us as she had done\nby divers other persons, it fortuned that Socrates did fall asleepe,\nand slept very soundly, by reason of his travell and plenty of meat and\nwine wherewithall hee had filled him selfe. Wherefore I closed and\nbarred fast the doores of the chamber, and put my bed behinde the\ndoore, and so layed mee downe to rest. But I could in no wise sleepe,\nfor the great feare which was in my heart, untill it was about\nmidnight, and then I began to slumber. But alas, behold suddenly the\nchamber doores brake open, and locks, bolts, and posts fell downe, that\nyou would verily have thought that some Theeves had been presently come\nto have spoyled and robbed us. And my bed whereon I lay being a truckle\nbed, fashioned in forme of a Cradle, and one of the feet broken and\nrotten, by violence was turned upside downe, and I likewise was\noverwhelmed and covered lying in the same. Then perceived I in my\nselfe, that certaine affects of the minde by nature doth chance\ncontrary. For as teares oftentimes trickle downe the cheekes of him\nthat seeth or heareth some joyfull newes, so I being in this fearfull\nperplexity, could not forbeare laughing, to see how of Aristomenus I\nwas made like unto a snail [in] his shell. And while I lay on the\nground covered in this sort, I peeped under the bed to see what would\nhappen. And behold there entred in two old women, the one bearing a\nburning torch, and the other a sponge and a naked sword; and so in this\nhabit they stood about Socrates being fast asleep. Then shee which bare\nthe sword sayd unto the other, Behold sister Panthia, this is my deare\nand sweet heart, which both day and night hath abused my wanton\nyouthfulnesse. This is he, who little regarding my love, doth not only\ndefame me with reproachfull words, but also intendeth to run away. And\nI shall be forsaken by like craft as Vlysses did use, and shall\ncontinually bewaile my solitarinesse as Calipso. Which said, shee\npointed towards mee that lay under the bed, and shewed me to Panthia.\nThis is hee, quoth she, which is his Counsellor, and perswadeth him to\nforsake me, and now being at the point of death he lieth prostrate on\nthe ground covered with his bed, and hath seene all our doings, and\nhopeth to escape scot-free from my hands, but I will cause that hee\nwill repente himselfe too late, nay rather forthwith, of his former\nintemperate language, and his present curiosity. Which words when I\nheard I fell into a cold sweat, and my heart trembled with feare,\ninsomuch that the bed over me did likewise rattle and shake. Then spake\nPanthia unto Meroe and said, Sister let us by and by teare him in\npieces or tye him by the members, and so cut them off. Then Meroe\n(being so named because she was a Taverner, and loved wel good wines)\nanswered, Nay rather let him live, and bury the corpse of this poore\nwretch in some hole of the earth; and therewithall shee turned the head\nof Socrates on the other side and thrust her sword up to the hilts into\nthe left part of his necke, and received the bloud that gushed out,\ninto a pot, that no drop thereof fell beside: which things I saw with\nmine own eyes, and as I thinke to the intent that she might alter\nnothing that pertained to sacrifice, which she accustomed to make, she\nthrust her hand down into the intrals of his body, and searching about,\nat length brought forth the heart of my miserable companion Socrates,\nwho having his throat cut in such sort, yeelded out a dolefull cry, and\ngave up the ghost. Then Panthia stopped up the wide wound of his throat\nwith the Sponge and said, O sponge sprung and made of the sea, beware\nthat thou not passe by running river. This being said, one of them\nmoved and turned up my bed, and then they strid over mee, and clapped\ntheir buttocks upon my face, and all bepissed mee until I was wringing\nwet. When this was over they went their wayes, and the doores closed\nfast, the posts stood in their old places, and the lockes and bolts\nwere shut againe. But I that lay upon the ground like one without\nsoule, naked and cold, and wringing wet with pisse, like to one that\nwere more than half dead, yet reviving my selfe, and appointed as I\nthought for the Gallowes, began to say Alasse what shall become of me\nto morrow, when my companion shall be found murthered here in the\nchamber? To whom shall I seeme to tell any similitude of truth, when as\nI shall tell the trueth in deed? They will say, If thou wert unable to\nresist the violence of the women, yet shouldest thou have cried for\nhelp; Wouldst thou suffer the man to be slaine before thy face and say\nnothing? Or why did they not slay thee likewise? Why did they spare\nthee that stood by and saw them commit that horrible fact? Wherefore\nalthough thou hast escaped their hands, yet thou shalt not escape ours.\nWhile I pondered these things with my selfe the night passed on, and so\nI resolved to take my horse before day, and goe forward on my journey.\n\nHowbeit the wayes were unknown to me, and thereupon I tooke up my\npacket, unlocked and unbarred the doors, but those good and faithfull\ndoores which in the night did open of their owne accord, could then\nscantly be opened with their keyes. And when I was out I cried, O\nsirrah Hostler where art thou? Open the stable doore for I will ride\naway by and by. The Hostler lying behinde the stable doore upon a\npallet, and half asleepe, What (quoth hee) doe you not know that the\nwayes be very dangerous? What meane you to rise at this time of night?\nIf you perhaps guilty of some heynous crime, be weary of your life, yet\nthinke you not that we are such Sots that we will die for you. Then\nsaid I, It is well nigh day, and moreover, what can theeves take from\nhim that hath nothing? Doest thou not know (Foole as thou art) if thou\nbe naked, if ten Gyants should assaile thee, they could not spoyle or\nrob thee? Whereunto the drowsie Hostler half asleepe, and turning on\nthe other side, answered, What know I whether you have murthered your\nCompanion whom you brought in yesternight, or no, and now seeke the\nmeans to escape away? O Lord, at that time I remember the earth seemed\nready to open, and me thought I saw at hell gate the Dog Cerberus ready\nto devour mee, and then I verily beleeved, that Meroe did not spare my\nthroat, mooved with pitty, but rather cruelly pardoned mee to bring mee\nto the Gallowes. Wherefore I returned to my chamber, and there devised\nwith my selfe in what sort I should finish my life. But when I saw that\nfortune should minister unto mee no other instrument than that which my\nbed profered me, I said, O bed, O bed, most dear to me at this present,\nwhich hast abode and suffered with me so many miseries, judge and\narbiter of such things as were done here this night, whome onely I may\ncall to witnesse for my innocency, render (I say) unto me some\nwholesome weapon to end my life, that am most willing to dye. And\ntherewithal I pulled out a piece of the rope wherewith the bed was\ncorded, and tyed one end thereof about a rafter by the window, and with\nthe other end I made a sliding knot, and stood upon my bed, and so put\nmy neck into it, and leaped from the bed, thinking to strangle my selfe\nand so dye, behold the rope beeing old and rotten burst in the middle,\nand I fell down tumbling upon Socrates that lay under: And even at that\nsame very time the Hostler came in crying with a loud voyce, and sayd,\nWhere are you that made such hast at midnight, and now lies wallowing\nabed? Whereupon (I know not whether it was by my fall, or by the great\ncry of the Hostler) Socrates as waking out of sleepe, did rise up first\nand sayd, It is not without cause that strangers do speake evill of all\nsuch Hostlers, for this Catife in his comming in, and with his crying\nout, I thinke under a colour to steale away something, hath waked me\nout of a sound sleepe. Then I rose up joyfull with a merry countenance,\nsaying, Behold good Hostler, my friend, my companion and my brother,\nwhom thou didst falsly affirme to be slaine by mee this might. And\ntherewithall I embraced my friend Socrates and kissed him: but hee\nsmelling the stinke of the pisse wherewith those Hagges had embrued me,\nthrust me away and sayd, Clense thy selfe from this filthy odour, and\nthen he began gently to enquire, how that noysome sent hapned unto mee.\nBut I finely feigning and colouring the matter for the time, did breake\noff his talk, and tooke him by the hand and sayd, Why tarry we? Why\nlose wee the pleasure of this faire morning? Let us goe, and so I tooke\nup my packet, and payed the charges of the house and departed: and we\nhad not gone a mile out of the Towne but it was broad day, and then I\ndiligently looked upon Socrates throat, to see if I could espy the\nplace where Meroe thrust in her sword: but when I could not perceive\nany such thing, I thought with my selfe, What a mad man am I, that\nbeing overcome with wine yester night, have dreamed such terrible\nthings? Behold I see Socrates is sound, safe and in health. Where is\nhis wound? Where is the Sponge? Where is his great and new cut? And\nthen I spake to him and said, Verily it is not without occasion, that\nPhysitians of experience do affirme, That such as fill their gorges\nabundantly with meat and drinke, shall dreame of dire and horrible\nsights: for I my selfe, not tempering my appetite yester night from the\npots of wine, did seeme to see this night strange and cruel visions,\nthat even yet I think my self sprinkled and wet with human blood:\nwhereunto Socrates laughing made answer and said, Nay, thou art not wet\nwith the blood of men, but art embrued with stinking pisse; and verily\nI dreamed that my throat was cut, and that I felt the paine of the\nwound, and that my heart was pulled out of my belly, and the\nremembrance thereof makes me now to feare, for my knees do so tremble\nthat I can scarce goe any further, and therefore I would faine eat\nsomewhat to strengthen and revive my spirits. Then said I, behold here\nthy breakefast, and therewithall I opened my script that hanged upon my\nshoulder, and gave him bread and cheese, and we sate downe under a\ngreate Plane tree, and I eat part with him; and while I beheld him\neating greedily, I perceived that he waxed meigre and pale, and that\nhis lively colour faded away, insomuch that beeing in great fear, and\nremembring those terrible furies of whom I lately dreamed, the first\nmorsell of bread that I put in my mouth (that was but very small) did\nso stick in my jawes, that I could neither swallow it downe, nor yet\nyeeld it up, and moreover the small time of our being together\nincreased my feare, and what is hee that seeing his companion die in\nthe high-way before his face, would not greatly lament and bee sorry?\nBut when that Socrates had eaten sufficiently hee waxed very thirsty,\nfor indeed he had well nigh devoured a whole Cheese: and behold evill\nfortune! There was behind the Plane tree a pleasant running water as\ncleere as Crystal, and I sayd unto him, Come hither Socrates to this\nwater and drinke thy fill. And then he rose and came to the River, and\nkneeled downe on the side of the banke to drinke, but he had scarce\ntouched the water with lips, when as behold the wound in his throat\nopened wide, and the Sponge suddenly fell out into the water, and after\nissued out a little remnant of bloud, and his body being then without\nlife, had fallen into the river, had not I caught him by the leg and so\npulled him up. And after that I had lamented a good space the death of\nmy wretched companion, I buried him in the Sands there by the river.\n\nWhich done, in great feare I rode through many Outwayes and desart\nplaces, and as culpable of the death of Socrates, I forsooke my\ncountrey, my wife, and my children, and came to Etolia where I married\nanother Wife.\n\nThis tale told Aristomenus, and his fellow which before obstinatly\nwould give no credit unto him, began to say, Verily there was never so\nfoolish a tale, nor a more absurd lie told than this. And then he spake\nunto me saying, Ho sir, what you are I know not, but your habit and\ncountenance declareth that you should be some honest Gentleman,\n(speaking to Apuleius) doe you beleeve this tale? Yea verily (quoth I),\nwhy not? For whatsoever the fates have appointed to men, that I beleeve\nshall happen. For may things chance unto me and unto you, and to divers\nothers, which beeing declared unto the ignorant be accounted as lies.\nBut verily I give credit unto his tale, and render entire thankes unto\nhim, in that by the pleasant relation thereof we have quickly passed\nand shortned our journey, and I thinke that my horse was also delighted\nwith the same, and hath brought me to the gate of this city without any\npaine at all. Thus ended both our talk and our journey, for they two\nturned on the left hand to the next villages, and I rode into the city.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIXTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius came unto a city named Hipate, and was lodged in one Milos\nhouse, and brought him letters from one Demeas of Corinth.\n\n\nAfter that those two Companions were departed I entred into the City:\nwhere I espied an old woman, of whom I enquired whether that city was\ncalled Hipata, or no: Who answered, Yes. Then I demaunded, Whether she\nknew one Milo an Alderman of the city: Whereat she laughed and said:\nVerily it is not without cause that Milo is called an Elderman, and\naccounted as chiefe of those which dwel without the walls of the City.\nTo whom I sayd againe, I pray thee good mother do not mocke, but tell\nme what manner of man he is, and where he dwelleth. Mary (quoth shee)\ndo you see these Bay windowes, which on one side abut to the gates of\nthe city, and on the other side to the next lane? There Milo dwelleth,\nvery rich both in mony and substance, but by reason of his great\navarice and insatiable covetousnes, he is evill spoken of, and he is a\nman that liveth all by usurie, and lending his money upon pledges.\nMoreover he dwelleth in a small house, and is ever counting his money,\nand hath a wife that is a companion of his extreame misery, neither\nkeepeth he more in his house than onely one maid, who goeth apparelled\nlike unto a beggar. Which when I heard, I laughed in my self and\nthought, In faith my friend Demeas hath served me well, which hath sent\nme being a stranger, unto such a man, in whose house I shall not bee\nafeared either of smoke or of the sent of meat; and therewithall I rode\nto the doore, which was fast barred, and knocked aloud. Then there came\nforth a maid which said, Ho sirrah that knocks so fast, in what kinde\nof sort will you borrow money? Know you not that we use to take no\ngage, unless it be either plate or Jewels? To whom I answered, I pray\nyou maid speak more gently, and tel me whether thy master be within or\nno? Yes (quoth shee) that he is, why doe you aske? Mary (said I) I am\ncome from Corinth, and have brought him letters from Demeas his friend.\nThen sayd the Maid, I pray you tarry here till I tell him so, and\ntherewithall she closed fast the doore, and went in, and after a while\nshe returned againe and sayd, My master desireth you to alight and come\nin. And so I did, whereas I found him sitting upon a little bed, going\nto supper, and his wife sate at his feet, but there was no meat upon\nthe table, and so by appointment of the maid I came to him and saluted\nhim, and delivered the letters which I had brought from Demeas. Which\nwhen hee had read hee sayd, Verily, I thanke my friend Demeas much, in\nthat hee hath sent mee so worthy a guest as you are. And therewithall\nhee commanded his wife to sit away and bid mee sit in her place; which\nwhen I refused by reason of courtesie, hee pulled me by my garment and\nwilled me to sit downe; for wee have (quoth he) no other stool here,\nnor no other great store of household stuffe, for fear of robbing. Then\nI according to his commandement, sate down, and he fell in further\ncommunication with me and sayd, Verily I doe conjecture by the comly\nfeature of your body, and by the maidenly shamefastnesse of your face\nthat you are a Gentleman borne, as my friend Demeas hath no lesse\ndeclared the same in his letters. Wherfore I pray you take in good part\nour poore lodging, and behold yonder chamber is at your commaundement,\nuse it as your owne, and if you be contented therewithall, you shall\nresemble and follow the vertuous qualities of your good father Theseus,\nwho disdained not the slender and poore Cottage of Hecades.\n\nAnd then he called his maid which was named Fotis, and said, Carry this\nGentlemans packet into the chamber, and lay it up safely, and bring\nwater quickly to wash him, and a towel to rub him, and other things\nnecessary, and then bring him to the next Baines, for I know that he is\nvery weary of travell.\n\nThese things when I heard, I partly perceived the manners of Milo, and\nendeavouring to bring my selfe further into his favour, I sayd, Sir\nthere is no need of any of these things, for they have been everywhere\nministred unto mee by the way, howbeit I will go into the Baines, but\nmy chiefest care is that my horse be well looked to, for hee brought\nmee hither roundly, and therefore I pray thee Fotis take this money and\nbuy some hay and oats for him.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEVENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius going to buy fish, met with his companion Pythias.\n\n\nWhen this was done, and all my things brought into the Chamber, I\nwalked towards the Baines; but first I went to the market to buy some\nvictuals for my supper, whereas I saw great plenty of fish set out to\nbe sould: and so I cheapened part thereof, and that which they at first\nheld at an hundred pence, I bought at length for twenty. Which when I\nhad done, and was departing away, one of myne old acquaintance, and\nfellow at Athens, named Pithias, fortuned to passe by, and viewing me\nat a good space, in the end brought me to his remembrance, and gently\ncame and kissed mee, saying, O my deare friend Lucius, it is a great\nwhile past since we two saw one another, and moreover, from the time\nthat wee departed from our Master Vestius, I never heard any newes from\nyou. I pray you Lucius tell me the cause of your peregrination hither.\nThen I answered and sayd, I will make relation thereof unto you\ntomorrow: but I pray you tell me, what meaneth these servitors that\nfollow you, and these rods or verges which they beare, and this habit\nwhich you wear like unto a magistrate, verily I thinke you have\nobtained your own desire, whereof I am right glad. Then answered\nPithias, I beare the office of the Clerke of the market, and therfore\nif you will have any pittance for your supper speake and I will purvey\nit for you. Then I thanked him heartily and sayd I had bought meat\nsufficient already. But Pithias when hee espied my basket wherein my\nfish was, tooke it and shaked it, and demanded of me what I had payd\nfor all my Sprots. In faith (quoth I), I could scarce inforce the\nfishmonger to sell them for twenty pence. Which when I heard, he\nbrought me backe again into the market, and enquired of me of whom I\nbought them. I shewed him the old man which sate in a corner, whome by\nand by, by reason of his office, hee did greatly blame, and sayd, Is it\nthus you serve and handle strangers, and specially our friends?\nWherefore sell you this fish so deare, which is not worth a halfepenny?\nNow perceive I well, that you are an occasion to make this place, which\nis the principall city of all Thessaly, to be forsaken of all men, and\nto reduce it into an uninhabitable Desart, by reasone of your excessive\nprices of victuals, but assure yourself that you shall not escape\nwithout punishment, and you shall know what myne office is, and how I\nought to punish such as offend. Then he took my basket and cast the\nfish on the ground, and commanded one of his Sergeants to tread them\nunder his feet. This done he perswaded me to depart, and sayd that\nonely shame and reproach done unto the old Caitife did suffice him, So\nI went away amazed and astonied, towards the Baines, considering with\nmyself and devising of the grace of my companion Pythias. Where when I\nhad well washed and refreshed my body, I returned againe to Milos\nhouse, both without money and meat, and so got into my chamber. Then\ncame Fotis immediately unto mee, and said that her master desired me to\ncome to supper. But I not ignorant of Milos abstinence, prayed that I\nmight be pardoned since as I thought best to ease my wearied bones\nrather with sleepe and quietnesse, than with meat. When Fotis had told\nthis to Milo, he came himselfe and tooke mee by the hand, and while I\ndid modestly excuse my selfe, I will not (quoth he) depart from this\nplace, until such time as you shall goe with me: and to confirm the\nsame, hee bound his words with an oath, whereby he enforced me to\nfollow him, and so he brought me into his chamber, where hee sate him\ndowne upon the bed, and demaunded of mee how his friend Demeas did, his\nwife, his children, and all his family: and I made answer to him every\nquestion, specially hee enquired the causes of my peregrination and\ntravell, which when I had declared, he yet busily demanded of the state\nof my Countrey, and the chief magistrates there, and principally of our\nLievtenant and Viceroy; who when he perceived that I was not only\nwearied by travell, but also with talke, and that I fell asleep in the\nmidst of my tale, and further that I spake nothing directly or\nadvisedly, he suffered me to depart to my chamber. So scaped I at\nlength from the prating and hungry supper of this rank old man, and\nbeing compelled by sleepe and not by meat, and having supped only with\ntalke, I returned into my chamber, and there betooke me to my quiet and\nlong desired rest.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE EIGHTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius fortuned to meet with his Cousin Byrrhena.\n\n\nAs soone as night was past, and the day began to spring, I fortuned to\nawake, and rose out of my bed as halfe amazed, and very desirous to\nknow and see some marvellous and strange things, remembring with my\nselfe that I was in the middle part of all Thessaly, whereas by the\ncommon report of all the World, the Sorceries and Inchauntments are\nmost used, I oftentimes repeated with my self the tale of my companion\nAristomenus touching the manner of this City, and being mooved by great\ndesire, I viewed the whole scituation thereof, neither was there any\nthing which I saw there, but that I did beleeve to be the same which it\nwas indeed, but every thing seemed unto me to be transformed and\naltered into other shapes, by the wicked power of Sorcerie and\nInchantment, insomuch that I thought that the stones which I found were\nindurate, and turned from men into that figure, and that the birds\nwhich I heard chirping, and the trees without the walls of the city,\nand the running waters, were changed from men into such kinde of\nlikenesses. And further I thought that the Statues, Images and Walls\ncould goe, and the Oxen and other brute beasts could speake and tell\nstrange newes, and that immediately I should see and heare some Oracles\nfrom the heavens, and from the gleed of the Sun. Thus being astonied or\nrather dismayed and vexed with desire, knowing no certaine place\nwhither I intended to go, I went from street to street, and at length\n(as I curiously gazed on every thing) I fortuned unwares to come into\nthe market place, whereas I espied a certaine woman, accompanied with a\ngreat many servants, towards whom I drew nigh, and viewed her garments\nbeset with gold and pretious stone, in such sort that she seemed to be\nsome noble matron. And there was an old man which followed her, who as\nsoon as he espied me, said to himself, Verily this is Lucius, and then\nhe came and embraced me, by and by he went unto his mistresse and\nwhispered in her eare, and came to mee againe saying, How is it Lucius\nthat you will not salute your deere Cousin and singular friend? To whom\nI answered, Sir I dare not be so bold as to take acquaintance of an\nunknown woman. Howbeit as halfe ashamed I drew towards her, and shee\nturned her selfe and sayd, Behold how he resembleth the very same grace\nas his mother Salvia doth, behold his countenance and stature, agreeing\nthereto in each poynt, behold his comely state, his fine slendernesse,\nhis Vermilion colour, his haire yellow by nature, his gray and quicke\neye, like to the Eagle, and his trim and comely gate, which do\nsufficiently prove him to be the naturall childe of Salvia. And\nmoreover she sayd, O Lucius, I have nourished thee with myne owne\nproper hand: and why not? For I am not onely of kindred to thy mother\nby blood, but also by nourice, for wee both descended of the line of\nPlutarch, lay in one belly, sucked the same paps, and were brought up\ntogether in one house. And further there is no other difference\nbetweene us two, but that she is married more honourably than I: I am\nthe same Byrrhena whom you have often heard named among your friends at\nhome: wherfore I pray you to take so much pains as to come with me to\nmy house, and use it as your owne. At whose words I was partly abashed\nand sayd, God forbid Cosin that I should forsake myne Host Milo without\nany reasonable cause; but verily I will, as often as I have occasion to\npasse by thy house, come and see how you doe. And while we were talking\nthus together, little by little wee came to her house, and behold the\ngates of the same were very beautifully set with pillars quadrangle\nwise, on the top wherof were placed carved statues and images, but\nprincipally the Goddesse of Victory was so lively and with such\nexcellencie portrayed and set forth, that you would have verily have\nthought that she had flyed, and hovered with her wings hither and\nthither. On the contrary part, the image of the Goddesse Diana was\nwrought in white marble, which was a marvellous sight to see, for shee\nseemed as though the winde did blow up her garments, and that she did\nencounter with them that came into the house. On each side of her were\nDogs made of stone, that seemed to menace with their fiery eyes, their\npricked eares, their bended nosethrils, their grinning teeth in such\nsort that you would have thought they had bayed and barked. An moreover\n(which was a greater marvel to behold) the excellent carver and deviser\nof this worke had fashioned the dogs to stand up fiercely with their\nformer feet, and their hinder feet on the ground ready to fight.\nBehinde the back of the goddesse was carved a stone in manner of a\nCaverne, environed with mosse, herbes, leaves, sprigs, green branches\nand bowes, growing in and about the same, insomuch that within the\nstone it glistered and shone marvellously, under the brim of the stone\nhanged apples and grapes carved finely, wherein Art envying Nature,\nshewed her great cunning. For they were so lively set out, that you\nwould have thought if Summer had been come, they might have bin pulled\nand eaten; and while I beheld the running water, which seemed to spring\nand leap under the feet of the goddesse, I marked the grapes which\nhanged in the water, which were like in every point to the grapes of\nthe vine, and seemed to move and stir by the violence of the streame.\nMoreover, amongst the branches of the stone appeared the image of\nActeon: and how that Diana (which was carved within the same stone,\nstanding in the water) because he did see her naked, did turne him into\nan hart, and so he was torne and slaine of his owne hounds. And while I\nwas greatly delighted with the view of these things, Byrrhena spake to\nme and sayd, Cousin all things here be at your commandement. And\ntherewithall shee willed secretly the residue to depart: who being gone\nshe sayd, My most deare Cousin Lucius, I do sweare by the goddesse\nDiana, that I doe greatly tender your safety, and am as carefull for\nyou as if you were myne owne naturall childe, beware I say, beware of\nthe evil arts and wicked allurements of that Pamphiles who is the wife\nof Milo, whom you call your Host, for she is accounted the most chief\nand principall Magitian and Enchantresse living, who by breathing out\ncertain words and charmes over bowes, stones and other frivolous\nthings, can throw down all the powers of the heavens into the deep\nbottome of hell, and reduce all the whole world againe to the old\nChaos. For as soone as she espieth any comely yong man, shee is\nforthwith stricken with his love, and presently setteth her whole minde\nand affection on him. She soweth her seed of flattery, she invades his\nspirit and intangleth him with continuall snares of unmeasurable love.\n\nAnd then if any accord not to her filthy desire, or if they seeme\nloathsome in her eye, by and by in the moment of an houre she turneth\nthem into stones, sheep or some other beast, as her selfe pleaseth, and\nsome she presently slayeth and murthereth, of whom I would you should\nearnestly beware. For she burneth continually, and you by reason of\nyour tender age and comely beauty are capable of her fire and love.\n\nThus with great care Byrrhena gave me in charge, but I (that always\ncoveted and desired, after that I had heard talk of such Sorceries and\nWitchcrafts, to be experienced in the same) little esteemed to beware\nof Pamphiles, but willingly determined to bestow my money in learning\nof that art, and now wholly to become a Witch. And so I waxed joyful,\nand wringing my selfe out of her company, as out of linkes or chaines,\nI bade her farewell, and departed toward the house of myne host Milo,\nby the way reasoning thus with my selfe: O Lucius now take heed, be\nvigilant, have a good care, for now thou hast time and place to\nsatisfie thy desire, now shake off thy childishnesse and shew thy selfe\na man, but especially temper thy selfe from the love of thyne hostesse,\nand abstain from violation of the bed of Milo, but hardly attempt to\nwinne the maiden Fotis, for she is beautifull, wanton and pleasant in\ntalke. And soone when thou goest to sleepe, and when shee bringeth you\ngently into thy chamber, and tenderly layeth thee downe in thy bed, and\nlovingly covereth thee, and kisseth thee sweetly, and departeth\nunwillingly, and casteth her eyes oftentimes backe, and stands still,\nthen hast thou a good occasion ministred to thee to prove and try the\nmind of Fotis. Thus while I reasoned to myselfe I came to Milos doore,\npersevering still in my purpose, but I found neither Milo nor his wife\nat home.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NINTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius fell in love with Fotis.\n\n\nWhen I was within the house I found my deare and sweet love Fotis\nmincing of meat and making pottage for her master and mistresse, the\nCupboord was all set with wines, and I thought I smelled the savor of\nsome dainty meats: she had about her middle a white and clean apron,\nand shee was girded about her body under the paps with a swathell of\nred silke, and she stirred the pot and turned the meat with her fair\nand white hands, in such sort that with stirring and turning the same,\nher loynes and hips did likewise move and shake, which was in my mind a\ncomely sight to see.\n\nThese things when I saw I was halfe amazed, and stood musing with my\nselfe, and my courage came then upon mee, which before was scant. And I\nspake unto Fotis merrily and sayd, O Fotis how trimmely you can stirre\nthe pot, and how finely, with shaking your buttockes, you can make\npottage. O happy and twice happy is hee to whom you give leave and\nlicence but to touch you there. Then shee beeing likewise merrily\ndisposed, made answer, Depart I say, Miser from me, depart from my\nfire, for if the flame thereof doe never so little blaze forth, it will\nburne thee extreamely and none can extinguish the heat thereof but I\nalone, who in stirring the pot and making the bed can so finely shake\nmy selfe. When she had sayd these words shee cast her eyes upon me and\nlaughed, but I did not depart from thence until such time as I had\nviewed her in every point. But what should I speak of others, when as I\ndoe accustome abroad to marke the face and haire of every dame, and\nafterwards delight my selfe therewith privately at home, and thereby\njudge the residue of their shape, because the face is the principall\npart of all the body, and is first open to our eyes. And whatsoever\nflourishing and gorgeous apparell doth work and set forth in the\ncorporal parts of a woman, the same doth the naturall and comely beauty\nset out in the face. Moreover there be divers, that to the intent to\nshew their grace and feature, wil cast off their partlets, collars,\nhabiliments, fronts, cornets and krippins, and doe more delight to shew\nthe fairnesse of their skinne, than to deck themselves up in gold and\npretious stones. But because it is a crime unto me to say so, and to\ngive no example thereof, know ye, that if you spoyle and cut the haire\nof any woman or deprive her of the colour of her face, though shee were\nnever so excellent in beauty, though shee were throwne downe from\nheaven, sprung of the Seas, nourished of the flouds, though shee were\nVenus her selfe, though shee were waited upon by all the Court of\nCupid, though were girded with her beautifull skarfe of Love, and\nthough shee smelled of perfumes and musks, yet if shee appeared bald,\nshee could in no wise please, no not her owne Vulcanus.\n\nO how well doth a faire colour and a shining face agree with glittering\nhair! Behold, it encountreth with the beams of the Sunne, and pleaseth\nthe eye marvellously. Sometimes the beauty of the haire resembleth the\ncolour of gold and honey, sometimes the blew plumes and azured feathers\nabout the neckes of Doves, especially when it is either anointed with\nthe gumme of Arabia, or trimmely tuft out with the teeth of a fine\ncombe, which if it be tyed up in the pole of the necke, it seemeth to\nthe lover that beholdeth the same, as a glasse that yeeldeth forth a\nmore pleasant and gracious comelinesse than if it should be sparsed\nabroad on the shoulders of the woman, or hang down scattering behind.\nFinally there is such a dignity in the haire, that whatsoever shee be,\nthough she be never to bravely attyred with gold, silks, pretious\nstones, and other rich and gorgeous ornaments, yet if her hair be not\ncuriously set forth shee cannot seeme faire. But in my Fotis, her\ngarments unbrast and unlaste increased her beauty, her haire hanged\nabout her shoulders, and was dispersed abroad upon her partlet, and in\nevery part of her necke, howbeit the greater part was trussed upon her\npole with a lace. Then I unable to sustain the broiling heat that I was\nin, ran upon her and kissed the place where she had thus laid her\nhaire. Whereat she turned her face, and cast her rolling eyes upon me,\nsaying, O Scholler, thou hast tasted now both hony and gall, take heed\nthat thy pleasure do not turn unto repentance. Tush (quoth I) my sweet\nheart, I am contented for such another kiss to be broiled here upon\nthis fire, wherwithall I embraced and kissed her more often, and shee\nembraced and kissed me likewise, and moreover her breath smelled like\nCinnamon, and the liquor of her tongue was like unto sweet Nectar,\nwherewith when my mind was greatly delighted I sayd, Behold Fotis I am\nyours, and shall presently dye unlesse you take pitty upon me. Which\nwhen I had said she eftsoone kissed me, and bid me be of good courage,\nand I will (quoth shee) satisfie your whole desire, and it shall be no\nlonger delayed than until night, when as assure your selfe I will come\nand lie with you; wherfore go your wayes and prepare your selfe, for I\nintend valiantly and couragiously to encounter with you this night.\nThus when we had lovingly talked and reasoned together, we departed for\nthat time.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Byrrhena sent victuals unto Apuleius, and how hee talked with Milo\nof Diophanes, and how he lay with Fotis.\n\n\nWhen noone was come, Byrrhena sent to me a fat Pigge, five hennes, and\na flagon of old wine. Then I called Fotis and sayd, Behold how Bacchus\nthe egger and stirrer of Venery, doth offer him self of his owne\naccord, let us therefore drink up this wine, that we may prepare our\nselves and get us courage against soone, for Venus wanteth no other\nprovision than this, that the Lamp may be all the night replenished\nwith oyle, and the cups with wine. The residue of the day I passed away\nat the Bains and in banquetting, and towards evening I went to supper,\nfor I was bid by Milo, and so I sate downe at the table, out of\nPamphiles sight as much as I could, being mindfull of the commandement\nof Byrrhena, and sometimes I would cast myne eyes upon her as upon the\nfuries of hell, but I eftsoones turning my face behinde me, and\nbeholding my Fotis ministring at the table, was again refreshed and\nmade merry. And behold when Pamphiles did see the candle standing on\nthe table, she said, Verily wee shall have much raine to morrow. Which\nwhen her husband did heare, he demanded of her by what reason she knew\nit? Mary (quoth shee) the light on the table sheweth the same. Then\nMilo laughed and said, Verily we nourish a Sybel prophesier, which by\nthe view of a candle doth divine of Celestiall things, and of the Sunne\nit selfe. Then I mused in my minde and said unto Milo, Of truth it is a\ngood experience and proof of divination. Neither is it any marvell, for\nalthough this light is but a small light, and made by the hands of men,\nyet hath it a remembrance of that great and heavenly light, as of his\nparent, and doth shew unto us what will happen in the Skies above. For\nI knew at Corinth a certain man of Assyria, who would give answers in\nevery part of the City, and for the gaine of money would tell every man\nhis fortune, to some he would tel the dayes of their marriages, to\nothers he would tell when they should build, that their edifices should\ncontinue. To others, when they should best goe about their affaires. To\nothers, when they should goe by sea or land: to me, purposing to take\nmy journey hither, he declared many things strange and variable. For\nsometimes hee sayd that I should win glory enough: sometimes he sayd I\nshould write a great Historie: sometimes againe hee sayd that I should\ndevise an incredible tale: and sometimes that I should make Bookes.\nWhereat Milo laughed againe, and enquired of me, of what stature this\nman of Assyria was, and what he was named. In faith (quoth I) he is a\ntall man and somewhat blacke, and hee is called Diophanes. Then sayd\nMilo, the same is he and no other, who semblably hath declared many\nthings here unto us, whereby hee got and obtained great substance and\nTreasure.\n\nBut the poore miser fell at length into the hands of unpittifull and\ncruell fortune: For beeing on a day amongst a great assembly of people,\nto tell the simple sort their fortune, a certaine Cobler came unto him,\nand desired him to tel when it should be best for him to take his\nvoyage, the which hee promised to do: the Cobler opened his purse and\ntold a hundred pence to him for his paines. Whereupon came a certaine\nyoung gentleman and took Diophanes by the Garment. Then he turning\nhimselfe, embraced and kissed him, and desired the Gentleman, who was\none of his acquaintance, to sit downe by him: and Diophanes being\nastonied with this sudden change, forgot what he was doing, and sayd, O\ndeare friend you are heartily welcome, I pray you when arrived you into\nthese parts? Then answered he, I will tell you soone, but brother I\npray you tell mee of your comming from the isle of Euboea, and how you\nsped by the way? Whereunto Diophanes this notable Assyrian (not yet\ncome unto his minde, but halfe amased) soone answered and sayd, I would\nto god that all our enemies and evil willers might fall into the like\ndangerous peregrination and trouble. For the ship where we were in,\nafter it was by the waves of the seas and by the great tempests tossed\nhither and thither, in great peril, and after that the mast and stern\nbrake likewise in pieces, could in no wise be brought to shore, but\nsunk into the water, and so we did swim, and hardly escaped to land.\nAnd after that, whatsoever was given unto us in recompense of our\nlosses, either by the pitty of strangers, or by the benevolence of our\nfriends, was taken away from us by theeves, whose violence when my\nbrother Arisuatus did assay to resist, hee was cruelly murthered by\nthem before my face. These things when he had sadly declared, the\nCobler tooke up his money againe which he had told out to pay for the\ntelling of his fortune, and ran away. The Diophanes comming to himselfe\nperceived what he had done, and we all that stood by laughed greatly.\nBut that (quoth Milo) which Diophanes did tell unto you Lucius, that\nyou should be happy and have a prosperous journey, was only true. Thus\nMilo reasoned with me. But I was not a little sorry that I had traind\nhim into such a vaine of talke, that I lost a good part of the night,\nand the sweete pleasure thereof: but at length I boldly said to Milo,\nLet Diophanes fare well with his evil fortune, and get againe that\nwhich he lost by sea and land, for I verily do yet feel the wearinesse\nof my travell, whereof I pray you pardon mee, and give me licence to\ndepart to bed: wherewithall I rose up and went unto my chamber, where I\nfound all things finely prepared and the childrens bed (because they\nshould not heare what we did in the night) was removed far off without\nthe chamber doore. The table was all covered with those meats that were\nleft at supper, the cups were filled halfe full with water, to temper\nand delay the wines, the flagon stood ready prepared, and there lacked\nnothing that was necessary for the preparation of Venus. And when I was\nentring into the bed, behold my Fotis (who had brought her mistresse to\nbed) came in and gave me roses and floures which she had in her apron,\nand some she threw about the bed, and kissed mee sweetly, and tied a\ngarland about my head, and bespred the chamber with the residue. Which\nwhen shee had done, shee tooke a cup of wine and delaied it with hot\nwater, and profered it me to drinke; and before I had drunk it all off\nshe pulled it from my mouth, and then gave it me againe, and in this\nmanner we emptied the pot twice or thrice together. Thus when I had\nwell replenished my self with wine, and was now ready unto Venery not\nonely in minde but also in body, I removed my cloathes, and shewing to\nFotis my great impatiencie I sayd, O my sweet heart take pitty upon me\nand helpe me, for as you see I am now prepared unto the battell, which\nyou your selfe did appoint: for after that I felt the first Arrow of\ncruell Cupid within my breast, I bent my bow very strong, and now\nfeare, (because it is bended so hard) lest my string should breake: but\nthat thou mayst the better please me, undresse thy haire and come and\nembrace me lovingly: whereupon shee made no long delay, but set aside\nall the meat and wine, and then she unapparelled her selfe, and\nunattyred her haire, presenting her amiable body unto me in manner of\nfaire Venus, when shee goeth under the waves of the sea. Now (quoth\nshee) is come the houre of justing, now is come the time of warre,\nwherefore shew thy selfe like unto a man, for I will not retyre, I will\nnot fly the field, see then thou bee valiant, see thou be couragious,\nsince there is no time appointed when our skirmish shall cease. In\nsaying these words shee came to me to bed, and embraced me sweetly, and\nso wee passed all the night in pastime and pleasure, and never slept\nuntil it was day: but we would eftsoones refresh our wearinesse, and\nprovoke our pleasure, and renew our venery by drinking of wine. In\nwhich sort we pleasantly passed away many other nights following.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELEVENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius supped with Byrrhena, and what a strange tale Bellephoron\ntold at the table.\n\n\nIt fortuned on a day, that Byrrhena desired me earnestly to suppe with\nher; and shee would in no wise take any excusation. Whereupon I went to\nFotis, to aske counsell of her as of some Divine, who although she was\nunwilling that I should depart one foot from her company, yet at length\nshee gave me license to bee absent for a while, saying, Beware that you\ntarry not long at supper there, for there is a rabblement of common\nBarrettors and disturbers of the publique peace, that rove about in the\nstreets and murther all such as they may take, neither can law nor\njustice redress them in any case. And they will the sooner set upon\nyou, by reason of your comelinesse and audacity, in that you are not\nafeared at any time to walke in the streets.\n\nThen I answered and sayd, Have no care of me Fotis, for I esteeme the\npleasure which I have with thee, above the dainty meats that I eat\nabroad, and therefore I will returne againe quickly. Neverthelesse I\nminde not to come without company, for I have here my sword, wherby I\nhope to defend my selfe.\n\nAnd so in this sort I went to supper, and behold I found in Byrrhena\u2019s\nhouse a great company of strangers, and the chiefe and principall of\nthe city: the beds made of Citron and Ivory, were richly adorned and\nspread with cloath of gold, the Cups were garnished pretiously, and\nthere were divers other things of sundry fashion, but of like\nestimation and price: here stood a glasse gorgeously wrought, there\nstood another of Christall finely painted. There stood a cup of\nglittering silver, and there stood another of shining gold, and here\nwas another of amber artificially carved and made with pretious stones.\nFinally, there was all things that might be desired: the Servitors\nwaited orderly at the table in rich apparell, the pages arrayed in\nsilke robes, did fill great gemmes and pearles made in the forme of\ncups, with excellent wine. Then one brought in Candles and Torches, and\nwhen we were set down and placed in order, we began to talke, to laugh,\nand to be merry. And Byrrhena spake unto mee and sayd, I pray you\nCousine how like you our countrey? Verily I think there is no other\nCity which hath the like Temples, Baynes, and other commodities which\nwe have here. Further we have abundance of household stuffe, we have\npleasure, we have ease, and when the Roman merchants arrive in this\nCity they are gently and quietly entertained, and all that dwell within\nthis province (when they purpose to solace and repose themselves) do\ncome to this city. Whereunto I answered, Verily (quoth I) you tell\ntruth, for I can finde no place in all the world which I like better\nthan this, but I greatly feare the blind inevitable trenches of\nwitches, for they say that the dead bodies are digged out of their\ngraves, and the bones of them that are burnt be stollen away, and the\ntoes and fingers of such as are slaine are cut off, and afflict and\ntorment such as live. And the old Witches as soone as they heare of the\ndeath of any person, do forthwith goe and uncover the hearse and spoyle\nthe corpse, to work their inchantments. Then another sitting at the\ntable spake and sayd, In faith you say true, neither yet do they spare\nor favor the living. For I know one not farre hence that was cruelly\nhandled by them, who being not contented with cutting off his nose, did\nlikewise cut off his eares, whereat all the people laughed heartily,\nand looked at one that sate at the boords end, who being amased at\ntheir gazing, and somewhat angry withall, would have risen from the\ntable, had not Byrrhena spake unto him and sayd, I pray thee friend\nBellerophon sit still and according to thy accustomed curtesie declare\nunto us the losse of thy nose and eares, to the end that my cousin\nLucius may be delighted with the pleasantnes of the tale. To whom he\nanswered, Madam in the office of your bounty shall prevaile herein, but\nthe insolencie of some is not to be supported. This hee spake very\nangerly: But Byrrhena was earnest upon him, and assured him hee should\nhave no wrong at any mans hand. Whereby he was inforced to declare the\nsame, and so lapping up the end of the Table cloath and carpet\ntogether, hee leaned with his elbow thereon, and held out three\nforefingers of his right hand in manner of an orator, and sayd, When I\nwas a young man I went unto a certaine city called Milet, to see the\ngames and triumphs there named Olympia, and being desirous to come into\nthis famous province, after that I had travelled over all Thessaly, I\nfortuned in an evil hour to come to the City Larissa, where while I\nwent up and down to view the streets to seeke some reliefe for my poore\nestate (for I had spent all my money) I espied an old man standing on a\nstone in the middest of the market place, crying with a loud voice and\nsaying, that if any man would watch a dead corps that night hee should\nbe reasonably rewarded for this paines. Which when I heard, I sayd to\none who passed by, What is here to doe? Do dead men use to run away in\nthis Countrey? Then answered he, Hold your peace, for you are but a\nBabe and a stranger here, and not without cause you are ignorant how\nyou are in Thessaly, where the women Witches bite off by morsels the\nflesh and faces of dead men, and thereby work their sorceries and\ninchantments. Then quoth I, In good fellowship tell me the order of\nthis custody and how it is. Marry (quoth he) first you must watch all\nthe night, with your eyes bent continually upon the Corps, never\nlooking off, nor moving aside. For these Witches do turn themselves\ninto sundry kindes of beasts, whereby they deceive the eyes of all men,\nsometimes they are transformed into birds, sometimes into Dogs and\nMice, and sometimes into flies. Moreover they will charme the keepers\nof the corps asleepe, neither can it be declared what meanes and shifts\nthese wicked women do use, to bring their purpose to passe: and the\nreward for such dangerous watching is no more than foure or sixe\nshillings. But hearken further (for I had well nigh forgotten) if the\nkeeper of the dead body doe not render on the morning following, the\ncorps whole and sound as he received the same, he shall be punished in\nthis sort: That is, if the corps be diminished or spoyled in any part\nof his face, hands or toes, the same shall be diminished and spoyled in\nthe keeper. Which when I heard him I tooke a good heart, and went unto\nthe Crier and bid him cease, for I would take the matter in hand, and\nso I demanded what I should have. Marry (quoth he) a thousand pence,\nbut beware I say you young man, that you do wel defend the dead corps\nfrom the wicked witches, for hee was the son of one of the chiefest of\nthe city. Tush (sayd I) you speak you cannot tell what, behold I am a\nman made all of iron, and have never desire to sleepe, and am more\nquicke of sight than Lynx or Argus. I had scarse spoken these words,\nwhen he tooke me by the hand and brought mee to a certaine house, the\ngate whereof was closed fast, so that I went through the wicket, then\nhe brought me into a chamber somewhat darke, and shewed me a Matron\ncloathed in mourning vesture, and weeping in lamentable wise. And he\nspake unto her and said, Behold here is one that will enterprise to\nwatch the corpes of your husband this night. Which when she heard she\nturned her blubbered face covered with haire unto me saying, I pray you\ngood man take good heed, and see well to your office. Have no care\n(quoth I) so you will give mee any thing above that which is due to be\ngiven. Wherewith shee was contented, and then she arose and brought me\ninto a chamber whereas the corps lay covered with white sheets, and\nshee called seven witnesses, before whom she shewed the dead body, and\nevery part and parcell thereof, and with weeping eyes desired them all\nto testifie the matter. Which done, she sayd these words of course as\nfollow: Behold, his nose is whole, his eyes safe, his eares without\nscarre, his lips untouched, and his chin sound: all which was written\nand noted in tables, and subscribed with the hands of witnesses to\nconfirme the same. Which done I sayd unto the matron, Madam I pray you\nthat I may have all things here necessary. What is that? (quoth she).\nMarry (quoth I) a great lampe with oyle, pots of wine, and water to\ndelay the same, and some other drinke and dainty dish that was left at\nsupper. Then she shaked her head and sayd, Away fool as thou art,\nthinkest thou to play the glutton here and to looke for dainty meats\nwhere so long time hath not been seene any smoke at all? Commest thou\nhither to eat, where we should weepe and lament? And therewithall she\nturned backe, and commanded her maiden Myrrhena to deliver me a lampe\nwith oyle, which when shee had done they closed the chamber doore and\ndeparted. Now when I was alone, I rubbed myne eyes, and armed my selfe\nto keep the corpes, and to the intent I would not sleepe, I began to\nsing, and so I passed the time until it was midnight, when as behold\nthere crept in a Wesel into the chamber, and she came against me and\nput me in very great feare, insomuch that I marvelled greatly at the\naudacity of so little a beast. To whom I said, get thou hence thou\nwhore and hie thee to thy fellowes, lest thou feele my fingers. Why\nwilt thou not goe? Then incontinently she ranne away, and when she was\ngon, I fell on the ground so fast asleepe, that Apollo himself could\nnot discern which of us two was the dead corps, for I lay prostrat as\none without life, and needed a keeper likewise. At length the cockes\nbegan to crow, declaring that it was day: wherewithall I awaked, and\nbeing greatly afeard ran to the dead body with the lamp in my hand, and\nI viewed him round about: and immediately came in the matron weeping\nwith her Witnesses, and ran to the corps, and eftsoons kissing him, she\nturned his body and found no part diminished. Then she willed\nPhilodespotus her steward to pay me my wages forthwith. Which when he\nhad done he sayd, We thanke you gentle young man for your paines and\nverily for your diligence herein we will account you as one of the\nfamily. Whereunto I (being joyous of by unhoped gaine, and ratling my\nmoney in my hand) did answer, I pray you madam esteeme me as one of\nyour servants, and if you want my service at any time, I am at your\ncommandement. I had not fully declared these words, when as behold all\nthe servants of the house were assembled with weapons to drive me away,\none buffeted me about the face, another about the shoulders, some\nstrook me in the sides, some kicked me, and some tare my garments, and\nso I was handled amongst them and driven from the house, as the proud\nyoung man Adonis who was torn by a Bore. And when I was come into the\nnext street, I mused with my selfe, and remembred myne unwise and\nunadvised words which I had spoken, whereby I considered that I had\ndeserved much more punishment, and that I was worthily beaten for my\nfolly. And by and by the corps came forth, which because it was the\nbody of one of the chiefe of the city, was carried in funeral pompe\nround about the market place, according to the right of the countrey\nthere. And forthwith stepped out an old man weeping and lamenting, and\nranne unto the Biere and embraced it, and with deepe sighes and sobs\ncried out in this sort, O masters, I pray you by the faith which you\nprofesse, and by the duty which you owe unto the weale publique, take\npitty and mercy upon this dead corps, who is miserably murdered, and\ndoe vengeance on this wicked and cursed woman his wife which hath\ncommitted this fact: for it is shee and no other which hath poysoned\nher husband my sisters sonne, to the intent to maintaine her whoredome,\nand to get his heritage. In this sort the old man complained before the\nface of all people. Then they (astonied at these sayings, and because\nthe thing seemed to be true) cried out, Burne her, burne her, and they\nsought for stones to throw at her, and willed the boys in the street to\ndoe the same. But shee weeping in lamentable wise, did swear by all the\ngods, that shee was not culpable of this crime. No quoth the old man,\nhere is one sent by the providence of God to try out the matter, even\nZachlas an Egypptian, who is the most principall Prophecier in all this\ncountrey, and who was hired of me for money to reduce the soule of this\nman from hell, and to revive his body for the triall hereof. And\ntherewithall he brought forth a certaine young man cloathed in linnen\nrayment, having on his feet a paire of pantofiles, and his crowne\nshaven, who kissed his hands and knees, saying, O priest have mercy,\nhave mercy I pray thee by the Celestiall Planets, by the Powers\ninfernall, by the vertue of the naturall elements, by the silences of\nthe night, by the building of Swallows nigh unto the towne Copton, by\nthe increase of the floud Nilus, by the secret mysteries of Memphis,\nand by the instruments and trumpets of the Isle Pharos, have mercy I\nsay, and call to life this dead body, and make that his eyes which he\nclosed and shut, may be open and see. Howbeit we meane not to strive\nagainst the law of death, neither intend we to deprive the earth of his\nright, but to the end this fact may be knowne, we crave but a small\ntime and space of life. Whereat this Prophet was mooved, and took a\ncertaine herb and layd it three times against the mouth of the dead,\nand he took another and laid upon his breast in like sort. Thus when\nhee had done hee turned himself into the East, and made certaine\norisons unto the Sunne, which caused all the people to marvell greatly,\nand to looke for this strange miracle that should happen. Then I\npressed in amongst them nigh unto the biere, and got upon a stone to\nsee this mysterie, and behold incontinently the dead body began to\nreceive spirit, his principall veines did moove, his life came again\nand he held up his head and spake in this sort: Why doe you call mee\nbacke againe to this transitorie life, that have already tasted of the\nwater of Lethe, and likewise been in the deadly den of Styx? Leave off,\nI pray, leave off, and let me lie in quiet rest. When these words were\nuttered by the dead corps, the Prophet drew nigh unto the Biere and\nsayd, I charge thee to tell before the face of all the people here the\noccasion of thy death: What, dost thou thinke that I cannot by my\nconjurations call up the dead, and by my puissance torment thy body?\nThen the corps moved his head again, and made reverence to the people\nand sayd, Verily I was poisoned by the meanes of my wicked wife, and so\nthereby yeelded my bed unto an adulterer. Whereat his wife taking\npresent audacity, and reproving his sayings, with a cursed minde did\ndeny it. The people were bent against her sundry wayes, some thought\nbest that shee should be buried alive with her husband: but some said\nthat there ought no credit to be given to the dead body. Which opinion\nwas cleane taken away, by the words which the corps spoke againe and\nsayd, Behold I will give you some evident token, which never yet any\nother man knew, whereby you shall perceive that I declare the truth:\nand by and by he pointed towards me that stood on the stone, and sayd,\nWhen this the good Gard of my body watched me diligently in the night,\nand that the wicked Witches and enchantresses came into the chamber to\nspoyle mee of my limbes, and to bring such their purpose did transforme\nthemselves into the shape of beasts: and when as they could in no wise\ndeceive or beguile his vigilant eyes, they cast him into so dead and\nsound a sleepe, that by their witchcraft he seemed without spirit or\nlife. After this they did call me by my name, and never did cease til\nas the cold members of my body began by little and little and little to\nrevive. Then he being of more lively soule, howbeit buried in sleep, in\nthat he and I were named by one name, and because he knew not that they\ncalled me, rose up first, and as one without sence or perseverance\npassed by the dore fast closed, unto a certain hole, whereas the\nWitches cut off first his nose, and then his ears, and so that was done\nto him which was appointed to be done to me. And that such their\nsubtility might not be perceived, they made him a like paire of eares\nand nose of wax: wherfore you may see that the poore miser for lucre of\na little mony sustained losse of his members. Which when he had said I\nwas greatly astonied, and minding to prove whether his words were true\nor no, put my hand to my nose, and my nose fell off, and put my hand to\nmy ears and my ears fell off. Wherat all the people wondred greatly,\nand laughed me to scorne: but I beeing strucken in a cold sweat, crept\nbetween their legs for shame and escaped away. So I disfigured returned\nhome againe, and covered the losse of myne ears with my long hair, and\nglewed this clout to my face to hide my shame. As soon as Bellephoron\nhad told his tale, they which sate at the table replenished with wine,\nlaughed heartily. And while they drank one to another, Byrrhena spake\nto me and said, from the first foundation of this city we have a\ncustome to celebrate the festivall day of the god Risus, and to-morrow\nis the feast when as I pray you to bee present, to set out the same\nmore honourably, and I would with all my heart that you could find or\ndevise somewhat of your selfe, that might be in honour of so great a\ngod. To whom I answered, verily cousin I will do as you command me, and\nright glad would I be, if I might invent any laughing or merry matter\nto please or satisfy Risus withall. Then I rose from the table and took\nleave of Byrrhena and departed. And when I came into the first street\nmy torch went out, that with great pain I could scarce get home, by\nreason it was so dark, for fear of stumbling: and when I was well nigh\ncome unto the dore, behold I saw three men of great stature, heaving\nand lifting at Milos gates to get in: and when they saw me they were\nnothing afeard, but assaied with more force to break down the dores\nwhereby they gave mee occasion, and not without cause, to thinke that\nthey were strong theeves. Whereupon I by and by drew out my sword which\nI carried for that purpose under my cloak, and ran in amongst them, and\nwounded them in such sort that they fell downe dead before my face.\nThus when I had slaine them all, I knocked sweating and breathing at\nthe doore til Fotis let me in. And then full weary with the slaughter\nof those Theeves, like Hercules when he fought against the king Gerion,\nI went to my chamber and layd me down to sleep.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRD BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWELFTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was taken and put in prison for murther.\n\n\nWhen morning was come, and that I was awaked from sleep, my heart\nburned sore with remembrance of the murther I had committed the night\nbefore: and I rose and sate downe on the side of the bed with my legges\nacrosse, and wringing my hands, I weeped in most miserable sort. For I\nimagined with my selfe, that I was brought before the Judge in the\nJudgement place, and that he awarded sentence against me, and that the\nhangman was ready to lead me to the gallows. And further I imagined and\nsayd, Alasse what Judge is he that is so gentle or benigne, that will\nthinke that I am unguilty of the slaughter and murther of these three\nmen. Howbeit the Assyrian Diophanes did firmely assure unto me, that my\nperegrination and voyage hither should be prosperous. But while I did\nthus unfold my sorrowes, and greatly bewail my fortune, behold I heard\na great noyse and cry at the dore, and in came the Magistrates and\nofficers, who commanded two sergeants to binde and leade me to prison,\nwhereunto I was willingly obedient, and as they led me through the\nstreet, all the City gathered together and followed me, and although I\nlooked always on the ground for very shame, yet sometimes I cast my\nhead aside and marvelled greatly that among so many thousand people\nthere was not one but laughed exceedingly. Finally, when they had\nbrought me through all the streets of the city, in manner of those that\ngo in procession, and do sacrifice to mitigate the ire of the gods,\nthey placed mee in the Judgement hall, before the seat of the Judges:\nand after that the Crier had commanded all men to keep silence, and\npeople desired the Judges to give sentence in the great Theatre, by\nreason of the great multitude that was there, whereby they were in\ndanger of stifling. And behold the prease of people increased stil,\nsome climed to the top of the house, some got upon the beames, some\nupon the Images, and some thrust their heads through the windowes,\nlittle regarding the dangers they were in, so they might see me.\n\nThen the officers brought mee forth openly into the middle of the hall,\nthat every man might behold me. And after that the Cryer had made a\nnoise, and willed all such that would bring any evidence against me,\nshould come forth, there stept out an old man with a glasse of water in\nhis hand, dropping out softly, who desired that hee might have liberty\nto speake during the time of the continuance of the water. Which when\nit was granted, he began his oration in this sort.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was accused by an old man, and how he answered for\nhimselfe.\n\n\nO most reverend and just Judges, the thing which I propose to declare\nto you is no small matter, but toucheth the estate and tranquillity of\nthis whole City, and the punishment thereof may be a right good example\nto others. Wherefore I pray you most venerable Fathers, to whom and\nevery one of whom it doth appertain, to provide for the dignity and\nsafety of the Commonweale, that you would in no wise suffer this wicked\nHomicide, embrued with the bloud of so many murthered citisens, to\nescape unpunished. And thinke you not that I am moved thereunto by envy\nor hatred, but by reason of my office, in that I am captain of the\nnight Watch, and because no man alive should accuse mee to bee remisse\nin the same I wil declare all the whole matter, orderly as it was done\nlast night.\n\nThis night past, when as at our accustomed houre I diligently searched\nevery part of the City, behold I fortuned to espy this cruell young man\ndrawing out his sword against three Citisens, and after a long combat\nfoughten between them, he murthered one after another miserably: which\nwhen hee had done, moved in his conscience at so great a crime hee ran\naway, and aided by the reason of darknes, slipt into a house, and there\nlay hidden all night, but by the providence of the Gods, which\nsuffereth no heynous offence to pass unpunished, hee was taken by us\nthis morning before he escaped any further, and so brought hither to\nyour honourable presence to receive his desert accordingly.\n\nSo have you here a guilty person, a culpable homicide, and an accused\nstranger, wherefore pronounce you judgement against this man beeing an\nalien, when as you would most severely and sharply revenge such an\noffence found in a known Citisen. In this sort the cruell accuser\nfinished and ended his terrible tale. Then the Crier commanded me to\nspeake, if I had any thing to say for my selfe, but I could in no wise\nutter any word at all for weeping. And on the other side I esteemed not\nso much his rigorous accusation, as I did consider myne owne miserable\nconscience. Howbeit, beeing inspired by divine Audacity, at length I\ngan say, Verily I know that it is an hard thing for him that is accused\nto have slaine three persons, to perswade you that he is innocent,\nalthough he should declare the whole truth, and confesse the matter how\nit was indeed, but if your honours will vouchsafe to give me audience,\nI will shew you, that if I am condemned to die, I have not deserved it\nas myne owne desert, but that I was mooved by fortune and reasonable\ncause to doe that fact. For returning somewhat late from supper yester\nnight (beeing well tippled with wine, which I will not deny) and\napproaching nigh to my common lodging, which was in the house of one\nMilo a Citisen of this city, I fortuned to espy three great theeves\nattempting to break down his walls and gates, and to open the locks to\nenter in. And when they had removed the dores out of the hookes, they\nconsulted amongst themselves, how they would handle such as they found\nin the house. And one of them being of more courage, and of greater\nstature than the rest, spake unto his fellows and sayd, Tush you are\nbut boyes, take mens hearts unto you, and let us enter into every part\nof the house, and such as we find asleep let us kill, and so by that\nmeanes we shall escape without danger. Verily ye three Judges, I\nconfess that I drew out my sword against those three Citizens, but I\nthought it was the office and duty of one that beareth good will to\nthis weale publique, so to doe, especially since they put me in great\nfear, and assayed to rob and spoyl my friend Milo. But when those\ncruell and terrible men would in no case run away, nor feare my naked\nsword, but boldly resist against me, I ran upon them and fought\nvaliantly. One of them which was the captain invaded me strongly, and\ndrew me by the haire with both his hands, and began to beat me with a\ngreat stone: but in the end I proved the hardier man, and threw him\ndowne at my feet and killed him. I tooke likewise the second that\nclasped me about the legs and bit me, and slew him also. And the third\nthat came running violently against me, after that I had strucken him\nunder the stomacke fell downe dead. Thus when I had delivered my selfe,\nthe house, Myne host, and all his family from this present danger, I\nthought that I should not onely escape unpunished, but also have some\ngreat reward of the city for my paines.\n\nMoreover, I that have always been clear and unspotted of crime, and\nthat have esteemed myne innocency above all the treasure of the world,\ncan finde no reasonable cause why upon myne accusation I should be\ncondemned to die, since first I was mooved to set upon the theeves by\njust occasion. Secondly, because there is none that can affirm, that\nthere hath been at any time either grudge or hatred between us.\nThirdly, we were men meere strangers and of no acquaintance. Last of\nall, no man can prove that I committed that fact for lucre or gaine.\n\nWhen I had ended my words in this sort, behold, I weeped againe\npitteously, and holding up my hands I prayed all the people by the\nmercy of the Commonweale and for the love of my poore infants and\nchildren, to shew me some pitty and favour. And when their hearts were\nsomewhat relented and mooved by my lamentable teares, I called all the\ngods to witnesse that I was unguilty of the crime, and so to their\ndivine providence, I committed my present estate, but turning my selfe\nagaine, I perceived that all the people laughed exceedingly, and\nespecially my good friend and host Milo. Then thought I with my selfe,\nAlasse where is faith? Where is remorse of conscience? Behold I am\ncondemned to die as a murtherer, for the safeguard of myne Host Milo\nand his family. Yet is he not contented with that, but likewise\nlaugheth me to scorne, when otherwise he should comfort and help mee.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was accused by two women, and how the slaine bodies were\nfound blowne bladders.\n\n\nWhen this was done, out came a woman in the middle of the Theatre\narrayed in mourning vesture, and bearing a childe in her armes. And\nafter her came an old woman in ragged robes, crying and howling\nlikewise: and they brought with them the Olive boughs wherewith the\nthree slaine bodies were covered on the Beere, and cried out in this\nmanner: O right Judges, we pray by the justice and humanity which is in\nyou, to have mercy upon these slaine persons, and succour our Widowhood\nand losse of our deare husbands, and especially this poore infant, who\nis now an Orphan, and deprived of all good fortune: and execute your\njustice by order and law, upon the bloud of this Theefe, who is the\noccasion of all our sorrowes. When they had spoken these words, one of\nthe most antient Judges did rise and say, Touching this murther, which\ndeserveth great punishment, this malefactor himselfe cannot deny, but\nour duty is to enquire and try out, whether he had Coadjutors to help\nhim. For it is not likely that one man alone could kill three such\ngreat and valiant persons, wherefore the truth must be tried out by the\nracke, and so wee shall learne what other companions he hath, and root\nout the nest of these mischievous murtherers. And there was no long\ndelay, but according to the custome of Grecia, the fire, the wheele,\nand many other torments were brought in. Then my sorrow encreased or\nrather doubled, in that I could not end my life with whole and\nunperished members. And by and by the old woman, who troubled all the\nCourt with her howling, desired the Judges, that before I should be\ntormented on the racke, I might uncover the bodies which I had slaine,\nthat every man might see their comely shape and youthfull beauty, and\nthat I might receive condign and worthy punishment, according to the\nquality of my offence: and therewithall shee made a sign of joy. Then\nthe Judge commanded me forthwith to discover the bodies of the slain,\nlying upon the beere, with myne own handes, but when I refused a good\nspace, by reason I would not make my fact apparent to the eies of all\nmen, the Sergeant charged me by commandement of the Judges, and thrust\nme forward to do the same. I being then forced by necessity, though it\nwere against my wil, uncovered the bodies: but O good Lord what a\nstrange sight did I see, what a monster? What sudden change of all my\nsorrows? I seemed as though I were one of the house of Proserpina and\nof the family of death, insomuch that I could not sufficiently expresse\nthe forme of this new sight, so far was I amased and astonied thereat:\nfor why, the bodies of the three slaine men were no bodies, but three\nblown bladders mangled in divers places, and they seemed to be wounded\nin those parts where I remembred I wounded the theeves the night\nbefore. Whereat the people laughed exceedingly: some rejoyced\nmarvellously at the remembrance thereof, some held their stomackes that\naked with joy, but every man delighted at this passing sport, so passed\nout of the theatre. But I from the time that I uncovered the bodies\nstood stil as cold as ice, no otherwise than as the other statues and\nimages there, neither came I into my right senses, until such time as\nMilo my Host came and tooke mee by the hand, and with civil violence\nlead me away weeping and sobbing, whether I would or no. And because\nthat I might be seene, he brought me through many blind wayes and lanes\nto his house, where he went about to comfort me, beeing sad and yet\nfearfull, with gentle entreaty of talke. But he could in no wise\nmitigate my impatiency of the injury which I conceived within my minde.\nAnd behold, by and by the Magistrates and Judges with their ensignes\nentred into the house, and endeavoured to pacify mee in this sort,\nsaying, O Lucius, we are advertised of your dignity, and know the\ngenealogie of your antient lineage, for the nobility of your Kinne doe\npossesse the greatest part of all this Province: and thinke not that\nyou have suffered the thing wherfore you weepe, to any reproach and\nignominy, but put away all care and sorrow out of your minde. For this\nday, which we celebrate once a yeare in honour of the god Risus, is\nalwaies renowned with some solemne novel, and the god doth continually\naccompany with the inventor therof, and wil not suffer that he should\nbe sorrowfull, but pleasantly beare a joyfull face. And verily all the\nCity for the grace that is in you, intend to reward you with great\nhonours, and to make you a Patron. And further that your statue or\nimage may be set up for a perpetuall remembrance.\n\nTo whome I answered, As for such benefits as I have received of the\nfamous City of Thessaly, I yeeld and render the most entire thanks, but\nas touching the setting up of any statues or images, I would wish that\nthey should bee reserved for myne Auntients, and such as are more\nworthy than I.\n\nAnd when I had spoken these words somewhat gravely, and shewed my selfe\nmore merry than I was before, the Judges and magistrates departed, and\nI reverently tooke my leave of them, and bid them farewell. And behold,\nby and by there came one running unto me in haste, and sayd, Sir, your\ncousin Byrrhena desireth you to take the paines according to your\npromise yester night, to come to supper, for it is ready. But I greatly\nfearing to goe any more to her house in the night, said to the\nmessenger, My friend I pray you tell to my cousine your mistresse, that\nI would willingly be at her commandement, but for breaking my troth and\ncredit. For myne host Milo enforced me to assure him, and compelled me\nby the feast of this present day, that I should not depart from his\ncompany, wherefore I pray you to excuse, and to defer my promise to\nanother time.\n\nAnd while I was speaking these words, Milo tooke me by the hand, and\nled me towards the next Baine: but by the way I went couching under\nhim, to hide my selfe from the sight of men, because I had ministred\nsuch an occasion of laughter. And when I had washed and wiped my selfe,\nand returned home againe, I never remembred any such thing, so greatly\nwas I abashed at the nodding and pointing of every person. Then went I\nto supper with Milo, where God wot we fared but meanly. Wherefore\nfeigning that my head did ake by reason of my sobbing and weeping all\nday, I desired license to depart to my Chamber, and so I went to bed.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Fotis told to Apuleius, what witchcraft her mistresse did use.\n\n\nWhen I was a bed I began to call to minde all the sorrowes and griefes\nthat I was in the day before, until such time as my love Fotis, having\nbrought her mistresse to sleepe, came into the chamber, not as shee was\nwont to do, for she seemed nothing pleasant neither in countenance nor\ntalke, but with sowre face and frowning looke, gan speak in this sort,\nVerily I confesse that I have been the occasion of all thy trouble this\nday, and therewith shee pulled out a whippe from under her apron, and\ndelivered it unto mee saying, Revenge thyself upon mee mischievous\nharlot, or rather slay me.\n\nAnd thinke you not that I did willingly procure this anguish and sorrow\nunto you, I call the gods to witnesse. For I had rather myne owne body\nto perish, than that you should receive or sustaine any harme by my\nmeans, but that which I did was by the commandement of another, and\nwrought as I thought for some other, but behold the unlucky chance\nfortuned on you by my evill occasion.\n\nThen I, very curious and desirous to know the matter, answered, In\nfaith (quoth I), this most pestilent and evill favoured whip which thou\nhast brought to scourge thee withal, shal first be broken in a thousand\npieces, than it should touch or hurt thy delicate and dainty skin. But\nI pray you tell me how have you been the cause and mean of my trouble\nand sorrow? For I dare sweare by the love that I beare unto you, and I\nwill not be perswaded, though you your selfe should endeavour the same,\nthat ever you went to trouble or harm me: perhaps sometimes you\nimagined an evil thought in your mind, which afterwards you revoked,\nbut that is not to bee deemed as a crime.\n\nWhen I had spoken these words, I perceived by Fotis eys being wet with\ntears and well nigh closed up that shee had a desire unto pleasure and\nspecially because shee embraced and kissed me sweetly. And when she was\nsomewhat restored unto joy shee desired me that shee might first shut\nthe chamber doore, least by the untemperance of her tongue, in uttering\nany unfitting words, there might grow further inconvenience.\nWherewithall shee barred and propped the doore, and came to me againe,\nand embracing me lovingly about the neck with both her armes, spake\nwith a soft voice and said, I doe greatly feare to discover the\nprivities of this house, and to utter the secret mysteries of my dame.\nBut I have such confidence in you and in your wisedome, by reason that\nyou are come of so noble a line, and endowed with so profound sapience,\nand further instructed in so many holy and divine things, that you will\nfaithfully keepe silence, and that whatsoever I shall reveale or\ndeclare unto you, you would close them within the bottome of your\nheart, and never discover the same: for I ensure you, the love that I\nbeare unto you, enforceth mee to utter it. Now shal you know all the\nestate of our house, now shal you know the hidden secrets of my\nmistres, unto whome the powers of hel do obey, and by whom the\ncelestial planets are troubled, the gods made weake, and the elements\nsubdued, neither is the violence of her art in more strength and force,\nthan when she espieth some comly young man that pleaseth her fancie, as\noftentimes it hapneth, for now she loveth one Boetian a fair and\nbeautiful person, on whom she employes al her sorcerie and enchantment,\nand I heard her say with mine own ears yester night, that if the Sun\nhad not then presently gon downe, and the night come to minister\nconvenient time to worke her magicall enticements, she would have\nbrought perpetuall darkness over all the world her selfe. And you shall\nknow, that when she saw yester night, this Boetian sitting at the\nBarbers a polling, when she came from the Baines shee secretly\ncommanded me to gather up some of the haires of his head which lay\ndispersed upon the ground, and to bring it home. Which when I thought\nto have done the Barber espied me, and by reason it was bruited though\nall the City that we were Witches and Enchantresses, he cried out and\nsaid, Wil you never leave off stealing of young mens haires? In faith I\nassure you, unlesse you cease your wicked sorceries, I will complaine\nto the Justices. Wherewithall he came angerly towards me, and tooke\naway the haire which I had gathered, out of my apron: which grieved me\nvery much, for I knew my Mistresses manners, that she would not be\ncontented but beat me cruelly.\n\nWherefore I intended to runne away, but the remembrance of you put\nalwayes the thought out of my minde, and so I came homeward very\nsorrowful: but because I would not seeme to come to my mistresse sight\nwith empty hands, I saw a man shearing of blowne goat skinnes, and the\nhayre which he had shorne off was yellow, and much resembled the haire\nof the Boetian, and I tooke a good deale thereof, and colouring of the\nmatter, I brought it to my mistresse. And so when night came, before\nyour returne from supper, she to bring her purpose to passe, went up to\na high Gallery of her house, opening to the East part of the world, and\npreparing her selfe according to her accustomed practise, shee gathered\ntogether all substance for fumigations, she brought forth plates of\nmettal carved with strange characters, she prepared the bones of such\nas were drowned by tempest in the seas, she made ready the members of\ndead men, as the nosethrils and fingers, shee set out the lumps of\nflesh of such as were hanged, the blood which she had reserved of such\nas were slaine and the jaw bones and teeth of willed beasts, then she\nsaid certaine charmes over the haire, and dipped it in divers waters,\nas in Wel water, Cow milk, mountain honey, and other liquor. Which when\nshe had done, she tied and lapped it up together, and with many\nperfumes and smells threw it into an hot fire to burn. Then by the\ngreat force of this sorcerie, and the violence of so many confections,\nthose bodies whose haire was burning in the fire, received humane\nshape, and felt, heard and walked: And smelling the sent of their owne\nhaire, came and rapped at our doores in stead of Boetius. Then you\nbeing well tipled, and deceived by the obscurity of the night, drew out\nyour sword courageously like furious Ajax, and kild not as he did,\nwhole heard of beastes, but three blowne skinnes, to the intent that I,\nafter the slaughter of so many enemies, without effusion of bloud might\nembrace and kisse, not an homicide but an Utricide.\n\nThus when I was pleasantly mocked and taunted by Fotis, I sayd unto\nher, verily now may I for this atcheived enterprise be numbered as\nHercules, who by his valiant prowesse performed the twelve notable\nLabors, as Gerion with three bodies, and as Cerberus with three heads,\nfor I have slaine three blown goat skinnes. But to the end that I may\npardon thee of that thing which thou hast committed, perform, the thing\nwhich I most earnestly desire of thee, that is, bring me that I may see\nand behold when thy mistresse goeth about any Sorcery or enchantment,\nand when she prayeth unto the gods: for I am very desirous to learne\nthat art, and as it seemeth unto mee, thou thy selfe hath some\nexperience in the same. For this I know and plainly feele, That whereas\nI have always yrked and loathed the embrace of Matrones, I am so\nstricken and subdued with thy shining eyes, ruddy cheekes, glittering\nhaire, sweet cosses, and lilly white paps, that I have neither minde to\ngoe home, nor to depart hence, but esteeme the pleasure which I shall\nhave with thee this night, above all the joyes of the world. Then\n(quoth she) O my Lucius, how willing would I be to fulfil your desire,\nbut by reason shee is so hated, she getteth her selfe into solitary\nplaces, and out of the presence of every person, when she mindeth to\nwork her enchantments. Howbeit I regarde more to gratify your request,\nthan I doe esteeme the danger of my life: and when I see opportunitie\nand time I will assuredly bring you word, so that you shal see all her\nenchantments, but always upon this condition, that you secretly keepe\nclose such things as are done.\n\nThus as we reasoned together the courage of Venus assailed, as well our\ndesires as our members, and so she unrayed herself and came to bed, and\nwe passed the night in pastime and dalliance, till as by drowsie and\nunlusty sleep I was constrained to lie still.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIXTEENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Fotis brought Apuleius to see her Mistresse enchant.\n\n\nOn a day Fotis came running to me in great feare, and said that her\nmistresse, to work her sorceries on such as shee loved, intended the\nnight following to transforme her selfe into a bird, and to fly whither\nshe pleased. Wherefore she willed me privily to prepare my selfe to see\nthe same. And when midnight came she led me softly into a high chamber,\nand bid me look thorow the chink of a doore: where first I saw how shee\nput off all her garments, and took out of a certain coffer sundry\nkindes of Boxes, of the which she opened one, and tempered the ointment\ntherein with her fingers, and then rubbed her body therewith from the\nsole of the foot to the crowne of the head, and when she had spoken\nprivily with her selfe, having the candle in her hand, she shaked the\nparts of her body, and behold, I perceived a plume of feathers did\nburgen out, her nose waxed crooked and hard, her nailes turned into\nclawes, and so she became an Owle. Then she cried and screeched like a\nbird of that kinde, and willing to proove her force, mooved her selfe\nfrom the ground by little and little, til at last she flew quite away.\n\nThus by her sorcery shee transformed her body into what shape she\nwould. Which when I saw I was greatly astonied: and although I was\ninchanted by no kind of charme, yet I thought that I seemed not to have\nthe likenesse of Lucius, for so was I banished from my sences, amazed\nin madnesse, and so I dreamed waking, that I felt myne eyes, whether I\nwere asleepe or no. But when I was come againe to my selfe, I tooke\nFotis by the hand, and moved it to my face and said, I pray thee while\noccasion doth serve, that I may have the fruition of the fruits of my\ndesire, and grant me some of this oyntment. O Fotis I pray thee by thy\nsweet paps, to make that in the great flames of my love I may be turned\ninto a bird, so I will ever hereafter be bound unto you, and obedient\nto your commandement. Then said Fotis, Wil you go about to deceive me\nnow, and inforce me to work my own sorrow? Are you in the mind that you\nwill not tarry in Thessaly? If you be a bird, where shall I seek you,\nand when shall I see you? Then answered I, God forbid that I should\ncommit such a crime, for though I could fly in the aire as an Eagle or\nthough I were the messenger of Jupiter, yet would I have recourse to\nnest with thee: and I swear by the knot of thy amiable hair, that since\nthe time I first loved thee, I never fancied any other person:\nmoreover, this commeth to my minde, that if by the vertue of the\noyntment I shall become an Owle, I will take heed I will come nigh no\nmans house: for I am not to learn, how these matrons would handle their\nlovers, if they knew that they were transformed into Owles: Moreover,\nwhen they are taken in any place they are nayled upon posts, and so\nthey are worthily rewarded, because it is thought that they bring evill\nfortune to the house. But I pray you (which I had almost forgotten) to\ntell me by what meanes when I am an Owle, I shall return to my pristine\nshape, and become Lucius againe. Feare not (quoth she) for my mistres\nhath taught me the way to bring that to passe, neither thinke you that\nshe did it for any good will and favour, but to the end that I might\nhelp her, and minister some remedy when she returneth home.\n\nConsider I pray you with your selfe, with what frivolous trifles so\nmarvellous a thing is wrought: for by Hercules I swear I give her\nnothing else save a little Dill and Lawrell leaves, in Well water, the\nwhich she drinketh and washeth her selfe withall. Which when she had\nspoken she went into the chamber and took a box out of the coffer,\nwhich I first kissed and embraced, and prayed that I might [have] good\nsuccesse in my purpose. And then I put off all my garments, and\ngreedily thrust my hand into the box, and took out a good deale of\noyntment and rubbed my selfe withall.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius thinking to be turned into a Bird, was turned into an\nAsse, and how he was led away by Theves.\n\n\nAfter that I had well rubbed every part and member of my body, I\nhovered with myne armes, and moved my selfe, looking still when I\nshould bee changed into a Bird as Pamphiles was, and behold neither\nfeathers nor appearance of feathers did burgen out, but verily my haire\ndid turne in ruggednesse, and my tender skin waxed tough and hard, my\nfingers and toes losing the number of five, changed into hoofes, and\nout of myne arse grew a great taile, now my face became monstrous, my\nnosthrils wide, my lips hanging downe, and myne eares rugged with\nhaire: neither could I see any comfort of my transformation, for my\nmembers encreased likewise, and so without all helpe (viewing every\npart of my poore body) I perceived that I was no bird, but a plaine\nAsse.\n\nThen I thought to blame Fotis, but being deprived as wel of language as\nof humane shape, I looked upon her with my hanging lips and watery\neyes. Who as soon as shee espied me in such sort, cried out, Alas poore\nwretch that I am, I am utterly cast away. The feare I was in, and my\nhaste hath beguiled me, but especially the mistaking of the box, hath\ndeceived me. But it forceth not much, in regard a sooner medicine may\nbe gotten for this than for any other thing. For if thou couldst get a\nrose and eat it, thou shouldst be delivered from the shape of an Asse,\nand become my Lucius againe. And would to God I had gathered some\ngarlands this evening past, according to my custome, then thou shouldst\nnot continue an Asse one nights space, but in the morning I shall seek\nsome remedy. Thus Fotis lamented in pittifull sort, but I that was now\na perfect asse, and for Lucius a brute beast, did yet retaine the sence\nand understanding of a man. And did devise a good space with my selfe,\nwhether it were best for me to teare this mischievous and wicked harlot\nwith my mouth, or to kicke and kill her with my heels. But a better\nthought reduced me from so rash a purpose: for I feared lest by the\ndeath of Fotis I should be deprived of all remedy and help. Then\nshaking myne head, and dissembling myne ire, and taking my adversity in\ngood part, I went into the stable to my owne horse, where I found\nanother asse of Milos, somtime my host, and I did verily think that\nmine owne horse (if there were any natural conscience or knowledge in\nbrute beasts) would take pitty on me, and profer me lodging for that\nnight: but it chanced far otherwise. For see, my horse and the asse as\nit were consented together to work my harm, and fearing lest I should\neat up their provender, would in no wise suffer me to come nigh the\nmanger, but kicked me with their heels from their meat, which I my self\ngave them the night before. Then I being thus handled by them, and\ndriven away, got me into a corner of the stable, where while I\nremembred their uncurtesie, and how on the morrow I should return to\nLucius by the help of a Rose, when as I thought to revenge my selfe of\nmyne owne horse, I fortuned to espy in the middle of a pillar\nsustaining the rafters of the stable the image of the goddesse Hippone,\nwhich was garnished and decked round about with faire and fresh roses:\nthen in hope of present remedy, I leaped up with my fore feet as high\nas I could, stretching out my neck, and with my lips coveting to snatch\nsome roses. But in an evill houre I did go about that enterprise, for\nbehold the boy to whom I gave charge of my horse, came presently in,\nand finding me climbing upon the pillar, ranne fretting towards me and\nsaid, How long shall wee suffer this wild Asse, that doth not onely eat\nup his fellowes meat, but also would spoyl the images of the gods? Why\ndoe I not kill this lame theefe and weake wretch? And therewithall\nlooking about for some cudgel, hee espied where lay a fagot of wood,\nand chusing out a crabbed truncheon of the biggest hee could finde, did\nnever cease beating of mee poore wretch, until such time as by great\nnoyse and rumbling, hee heard the doores of the house burst open, and\nthe neighbours crying in most lamentable sort, which enforced him being\nstricken in feare, to fly his way. And by and by a troupe of theeves\nentred in, and kept every part and corner of the house with weapons.\nAnd as men resorted to aid and help them which were within the doores,\nthe theeves resisted and kept them back, for every man was armed with a\nsword and target in his hand, the glimpses whereof did yeeld out such\nlight as if it had bin day. Then they brake open a great chest with\ndouble locks and bolts, wherein was layd all the treasure of Milo, and\nransackt the same: which when they had done they packed it up and gave\nevery man a portion to carry: but when they had more than they could\nbeare away, yet were they loth to leave any behind, but came into the\nstable, and took us two poore asses and my horse, and laded us with\ngreater trusses than wee were able to beare. And when we were out of\nthe house, they followed us with great staves, and willed one of their\nfellows to tarry behind, and bring them tydings what was done\nconcerning the robbery: and so they beat us forward over great hils out\nof the way. But I, what with my heavy burden and long journy, did\nnothing differ from a dead asse: wherfore I determined with my self to\nseek some civil remedy, and by invocation of the name of the prince of\nthe country to be delivered from so many miseries: and on a time I\npassed through a great faire, I came among a multitude of Greeks, and I\nthought to call upon the renowned name of the Emperor and say, O Cesar,\nand cried out aloud O, but Cesar I could in no wise pronounce. The\nTheeves little regarding my crying, did lay me on and beat my wretched\nskinne in such sort, that after it was neither apt nor meet to make\nSives or Sarces. Howbeit at last Jupiter administred to me an unhoped\nremedy. For when we had passed through many townes and villages, I\nfortuned to espy a pleasant garden, wherein beside many other flowers\nof delectable hiew, were new and fresh roses: and being very joyful,\nand desirous to catch some as I passed by, I drew neerer and neerer:\nand while my lips watered upon them, I thought of a better advice more\nprofitable for me, lest if from an asse I should become a man, I might\nfall into the hands of the theeves, and either by suspition that I were\nsome witch, or for feare that I should utter their theft, I should be\nslaine, wherefore I abstained for that time from eating of Roses, and\nenduring my present adversity, I did eat hay as other Asses did.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTH BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius thinking to eat Roses, was cruelly beaten by a Gardener,\nand chased by dogs.\n\n\nWhen noone was come, that the broyling heate of the sunne had most\npower, we turned into a village to certaine of the theeves acquaintance\nand friends, for verily their meeting and embracing together did give\nme, poore asse, cause to deeme the same, and they tooke the trusse from\nmy backe, and gave them part of the Treasure which was in it, and they\nseemed to whisper and tell them that it was stollen goods, and after\nthat we were unladen of our burthens, they let us loose in a medow to\npasture, but myne own horse and Miloes Asse would not suffer me to feed\nthere with them, but I must seeke my dinner in some other place.\n\nWherefore I leaped into a garden which was behinde the stable, and\nbeing well nigh perished with hunger, although I could find nothing\nthere but raw and green fallets, yet I filled my hungry guts\ntherwithall abundantly, and praying unto all the gods, I looked about\nin every place if I could espy any red roses in the gardens by, and my\nsolitary being alone did put me in good hope, that if I could find any\nremedy, I should presently of an Asse be changed into Lucius out of\nevery mans sight. And while I considered these things, I loked about,\nand behold I saw a farre off a shadowed valley adjoyning nigh unto a\nwood, where amongst divers other hearbes and pleasant verdures, me\nthought I saw bright flourishing Roses of bright damaske colour; and\nsaid within my bestaill minde, Verily that place is the place of Venus\nand the Graces, where secretly glistereth the royall hew, of so lively\nand delectable a floure. Then I desiring the help of the guide of my\ngood fortune, ranne lustily towards the wood, insomuch that I felt\nmyself that I was no more an Asse, but a swift coursing horse: but my\nagility and quicknes could not prevent the cruelty of my fortune, for\nwhen I came to the place I perceived that they were no roses, neither\ntender nor pleasant, neither moystened with the heavenly drops of dew,\nnor celestial liquor, which grew out of the thicket and thornes there.\nNeither did I perceive that there was any valley at all, but onely the\nbank of the river, environed with great thick trees, which had long\nbranches like unto lawrell, and bearing a flour without any manner of\nsent, and the common people call them by the name of Lawrel roses,\nwhich be very poyson to all manner of beasts. Then was I so intangled\nwith unhappy fortune that I little esteemed mine own danger, and went\nwillingly to eat of these roses, though I knew them to be present\npoyson: and as I drew neere I saw a yong man that seemed to be the\ngardener, come upon mee, and when he perceived that I had devoured all\nhis hearbes in the garden, he came swearing with a great staffe in his\nhand, and laid upon me in such sort, that I was well nigh dead, but I\nspeedily devised some remedy my self, for I lift up my legs and kicked\nhim with my hinder heels, that I left him lying at the hill foot wel\nnigh slain, and so I ran away. Incontinently came out his wife, who\nseeing her husband halfe dead, cried and howled in pittifull sort, and\nwent toward her husband, to the intent that by her lowd cries shee\nmight purchase to me present destruction. Then all the persons of the\ntown, moved by her noise came forth, and cried for dogs to teare me\ndown. Out came a great company of Bandogs and mastifes, more fit to pul\ndown bears and lions than me, whom when I beheld I thought verily I\nshould presently die: but I turned myself about, and ranne as fast as\never I might to the stable from whence I came. Then the men of the\ntowne called in their dogs, and took me and bound mee to the staple of\na post, and scourged me with a great knotted whip till I was well nigh\ndead, and they would undoubtedly have slaine me, had it not come to\npasse, that what with the paine of their beating, and the greene\nhearbes that lay in my guts, I caught such a laske that I all\nbesprinkled their faces with my liquid dung, and enforced them to leave\noff.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NINETEENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was prevented of his purpose, and how the Theeves came to\ntheir den.\n\n\nNot long after, the theeves laded us againe, but especially me, and\nbrought us forth of the stable, and when wee had gone a good part of\nour journey what with the long way, my great burthen, the beating of\nstaves, and my worne hooves, I was so weary that I could scantly go.\nThen I saw a little before mee a river running with fair water, and I\nsaid to myself, Behold, now I have found a good occasion: for I will\nfall down when I come yonder, and surely I will not rise againe,\nneither with scourging nor with beating, for I had rather be slaine\nthere presently, than goe any further.\n\nAnd the cause why I had determined so to doe was this, I thought that\nthe theeves when they did see me so feeble and weake that I could not\ntravell, to the intent they would not stay in their journey, they would\ntake the burthen from my backe and put it on my fellowes, and so for my\nfurther punishment to leave me as a prey to the wolves and ravening\nbeasts. But evill fortune prevented so good a consideration; for the\nother Asse being of the same purpose that I was of, by feigned and\ncoloured wearinesse fell downe first, with all his burthen on the\nground as though hee were dead, and he would not rise neither with\nbeating nor with pricking, nor stand upon his legs, though they pulled\nhim by the tail, by his legs, and by his eares: which when the theeves\nbeheld, as without all hope they said one unto another, What should we\nstand here so long about a dead or rather a stony asse? let us bee\ngone: and so they tooke his burthen, and divided some to mee, and some\nto my horse. And then they drew out their swords and cut off his legs,\nand threw his body from the point of a hill down into a great valley.\nThen I considering with my selfe of the evill fortune of my poore\ncompanion, and purposed now to forget all subtility and deceit, and to\nplay the good Asse to get my masters favour, for I perceived by their\ntalke that we were come home well nigh at our journeys end. And after\nthat wee had passed over a little hill, we came to our appointed place,\nand when we were unladen of our burthens, and all things carried in, I\ntumbled and wallowed in the dust, to refresh my selfe in stead of\nwater. The thing and the time compelleth me to make description of the\nplaces, and especially of the den where the theeves did inhabit, I will\nprove my wit in what I can doe, and the consider you whether I was an\nAsse in judgement and sence, or no. For first there was an exceeding\ngreat hill compassed about with big trees very high, with many turning\nbottoms full of sharp stones, whereby it was inaccessible. There was\nmany winding and hollow vallies, environed with thickets and thornes,\nand naturally fortressed round about. From the top of the hill ranne a\nrunning water as cleare as silver, that watered all the valleyes below,\nthat it seemed like unto a sea inclosed, or a standing floud. Before\nthe denne where was no hill stood an high tower, and at the foot\nthereof were sheep-coats fenced and walled with clay. Before the gate\nof the house were pathes made in stead of wals, in such sort that you\ncould easily judge it to be a very den for theeves, and there was\nnothing else except a little coat covered with thatch, wherein the\ntheeves did nightly accustome to watch by order, as I after perceived.\nAnd when they were all crept into the house, and we were all tied fast\nwith halters at the dore, they began to chide with an old woman there,\ncrooked with age, who had the government and rule of all the house, and\nsaid, How is it old witch, old trot, and strumpet, that thou sittest\nidley all day at home, and having no regard to our perillous labours,\nhast provided nothing for our suppers, but sittest eating and swilling\nthyself from morning till night? Then the old woman trembled, and\nscantly able to speak gan say, Behold my puissant and faithfull\nmasters, you shall have meat and pottage enough by and by: here is\nfirst store of bread, wine plenty, filled in cleane rinsed pots,\nlikewise here is hot water prepared to bathe you.\n\nWhich when she had said, they put off all their garments and refreshed\nthemselves by the fire. And after they were washed and noynted with\noyle, they sate downe at the table garnished with all kind of dainty\nmeats. They were no sooner sate downe, but in came another company of\nyong men more in number than was before, who seemed likewise to bee\nTheeves, for they brought in their preyes of gold and silver, Plate,\njewels, and rich robes, and when they had likewise washed, they sate\namong the rest, and served one another by order. Then they drank and\neat exceedingly, laughing, crying and making much noyse, that I thought\nthat I was among the tyrannous and wilde Lapithes, Thebans, and\nCentaures. At length one of them more valiant than the rest, spake in\nthis sort, We verily have manfully conquered the house of Milo of\nHippata, and beside all the riches and treasure which by force we have\nbrought away, we are all come home safe, and are increased the more by\nthis horse and this Asse. But you that have roved about in the country\nof Boetia, have lost your valiante captaine Lamathus, whose life I more\nregarded than all the treasure which you have brought: and therfore the\nmemory of him shall bee renowned for ever amongst the most noble kings\nand valiant captains: but you accustome when you goe abroad, like men\nwith ganders hearts to creepe through every corner and hole for every\ntrifle. Then one of them that came last answered, Why are you only\nignorant, that the greater the number is, the sooner they may rob and\nspoyle the house? And although the family be dispersed in divers\nlodgings, yet every man had rather to defend his own life, than to save\nthe riches of his master: but when there be but a few theeves, then\nwill they not only rather regard themselves, but also their substance,\nhow little or great soever it be. And to the intent you may beleeve me\nI will shew you an example: wee were come nothing nigh to Thebes, where\nis the fountain of our art and science, but we learned where a rich\nChuffe called Chriseros did dwell, who for fear of offices in the\npublique wel dissembled his estate, and lived sole and solitary in a\nsmall coat, howbeit replenished with aboundance of treasure, and went\ndaily in ragged and torn apparel. Wherefore wee devised with our selves\nto go to his house and spoyl him of all his riches. And when night came\nwe drew towards the dore, which was so strongly closed, that we could\nneither move it, nor lift it out of the hooks, and we thought it best\nnot to break it open lest by the noyse we should raise up to our harm\nthe neighbours by. Then our strong and valiant captaine Lamathus\ntrusting in his own strength and force, thrust in his hand through a\nhole in the dore, and thought to pull back the bolt: but the covetous\ncaitif Chriseros being awake, and making no noise came softly to the\ndore and caught his hand and with a great naile nailed it fast to the\npost: which when he had done, he ran up to the high chamber and called\nevery one of his neighbours by name, desiring them to succour him with\nall possible speed, for his own house was on fire. Then every one for\nfear of his owne danger came running out to aid him, wherewith we\nfearing our present peril, knew not what was best to be don, whether\nwee should leave our companion there, or yeeld ourselves to die with\nhim: but we by his consent devised a better way, for we cut off his arm\nby the elbow and so let it hang there: then wee bound his wound with\nclouts, lest we should be traced by the drops of blood: which don we\ntook Lamathus and led him away, for fear we would be taken: but being\nso nigh pursued that we were in present danger, and that Lamathus could\nnot keepe our company by reason of faintnesse; and on the other side\nperceiving that it was not for his profit to linger behinde, he spake\nunto us as a man of singular courage and vertue, desiring us by much\nentreaty and prayer and by the puissance of the god Mars, and the faith\nof our confederacy, to deliver his body from torment and miserable\ncaptivity: and further he said, How is it possible that so courageous a\nCaptaine can live without his hand, wherewith he could somtime rob and\nslay so many people? I would thinke myself sufficiently happy if I\ncould be slaine by one of you. But when he saw that we all refused to\ncommit any such fact, he drew out his sword with his other hand, and\nafter that he had often kissed it, he drove it clean through his body.\nThen we honoured the corps of so puissant a man, and wrapped it in\nlinnen cloathes and threw it into the sea. So lieth our master\nLamathus, buried and did in the grave of water, and ended his life as I\nhave declared. But Alcinus, though he were a man of great enterprise,\nyet could he not beware by Lamathus, nor voide himselfe from evill\nfortune, for on a day when he had entred into an old womans house to\nrob her, he went up into a high chamber, where hee should first have\nstrangled her: but he had more regard to throw down the bags of mony\nand gold out at a window, to us that stood under; and when he was so\ngreedy that he would leave nothing behinde, he went into the old womans\nbed where she lay asleep, and would have taken off the coverlet to have\nthrown downe likewise, but shee awaked, and kneeling on her knees,\ndesired him in this manner: O sir I pray you cast not away such torn\nand ragged clouts into my neighbours houses, for they are rich enough,\nand need no such things. Then Alcinus thinking her words to be true,\nwas brought in beleefe, that such things as he had throwne out already,\nand such things as hee should throw out after, was not fallen downe to\nhis fellowes, but to other mens houses, wherefore hee went to the\nwindow to see, and as hee thought to behold the places round about,\nthrusting his body out of the window, the old woman marked him wel, and\ncame behind him softly, and though shee had but small strength, yet\nwith sudden force she tooke him by the heeles and thrust him out\nheadlong, and so he fell upon a marvellous great stone and burst his\nribs, wherby he vomited and spewed great flakes of blood, and presently\ndied. Then wee threw him to the river likewise, as we had done Lamathus\nbefore.\n\nWhen we had thus lost two of our companions, we liked not Thebes, but\nmarched towards the next city called Platea, where we found a man of\ngreat fame called Demochares, that purposed to set forth a great game,\nwhere should be a triall of all kind of weapons: hee was come of a good\nhouse, marvellous rich, liberall, and wel deserved that which he had\nand had prepared many showes and pleasures for the Common people,\ninsomuch that there is no man can either by wit or eloquence shew in\nwords his worthy preparations: for first he had provided all sorts of\narmes, hee greatly delighted in hunting and chasing, he ordained great\ntowers and Tables to move hither and thither: hee made many places to\nchase and encounter in: he had ready a great number of men and wilde\nbeasts, and many condemned persons were brought from the Judgement\nplace, to try and fight with those beasts. But amongst so great\npreparations of noble price, he bestowed the most part of his patrimony\nin buying of Beares, which he nourished to his great cost, and esteemed\nmore than all the other beasts, which either by chasing hee caught\nhimself, or which he dearely bought, or which were given him from\ndivers of his friends.\n\nHowbeit for all his sumptuous cost, hee could not be free from the\nmalitious eyes of envy, for some of them were well nigh dead with too\nlong tying up, some meagre with the broyling heat of the sunne, some\nlanguished with lying, but all having sundry diseases, were so\nafflicted that they died one after another, and there was well nigh\nnone left, in such sort that you might see them lying in the streets\npittiously dead. And the common people having no other meat to feed on,\nlittle regarding any curiosity, would come forth and fill their bellies\nwith the flesh of the beares. Then by and by Babulus and I devised a\npretty sport, wee drew one of the greatest of the Beares to our\nlodging, as though wee would prepare to eat thereof, where wee flayed\nof his skinne, and kept his ungles whole, but we medled not with the\nhead, but cut it off by the necke, and so let it hang to the skinne.\nThen we rased off the flesh from the necke, and cast dust thereon, and\nset it in the sun to dry.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTIETH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Thrasileon was disguised in a Beares skin, and how he was handled.\n\n\nWhen the skin was a drying we made merry with the flesh, and then we\ndevised with our selves, that one of us being more valiant than the\nrest both in body and courage (so that he would consent thereto) should\nput on the skin, and feigning that he were a Beare, should be led to\nDemochares house in the night, by which means we thought to be received\nand let in. Many were desirous to play the Beare, but especially one\nThrasileon of a couragious minde would take this enterprise in hand.\nThen wee put in into the Beares skin, which him finely in every point,\nwee buckled it fast under his belly, and covered the seam with the\nhaire, that it might not be seen. After this we made little holes\nthrough the bears head, and through his nosthrils and eyes, for\nThrasileon to see out and take wind at, in such sort that he seemed a\nvery lively and natural beast: when this was don we went into a cave\nwhich we hired for the purpose, and he crept in after like a bear with\na good courage. Thus we began our subtility, and then wee imagined\nthus, wee feigned letters as though they came from one Nicanor which\ndwelt in the Country of Thracia, which was of great acquaintance with\nthis Demochares, wherein we wrote, that hee had sent him being his\nfriend, the first fruits of his coursing and hunting. When night was\ncome, which was a meet time for our purpose, we brought Thrasileon and\nour forged letters and presented them to Demochares. When Demochares\nbeheld this mighty Beare, and saw the liberality of Nicanor his friend,\nhee commanded his servants to deliver unto us x. crowns, having great\nstore in his coffers. Then (as the novelty of a thing doth accustom to\nstir mens minds to behold the same) many persons came on every side to\nsee this bear: but Thrasileon, lest they should by curious viewing and\nprying perceive the truth, ran upon them to put them in feare that they\ndurst not come nigh. The people said, Verily Demochares is right happy,\nin that after the death of so many beasts, hee hath gotten maugre\nfortunes head, so goodly a bear. Then Demochares commanded him with all\ncare to be put in the park with all the other beasts: but immediately I\nspake unto him and said, Sir I pray you take heed how you put a beast\ntired with the heat of the sun and with long travell, among others\nwhich as I hear say have divers maladies and diseases, let him rather\nlie in some open place in your house nie some water, where he may take\nair and ease himself, for doe you not know that such kind of beasts do\ngreatly delight to couch under the shadow of trees and hillocks neer\npleasant wells and waters? Hereby Demochares admonished, and remembring\nhow many he had before that perished, was contented that we should put\nthe bear where we would. Moreover we said unto him, that we ourselves\nwere determined to lie all night neer the Bear, to look unto him, and\nto give him meat and drink at his due houre.\n\nThen he answered, Verily masters you need not put yourselves to such\npaines, for I have men that serve for nothing but that purpose. So wee\ntooke leave of him and departed: and when we were come without the\ngates of the town, we perceived before us a great sepulchre standing\nout of the highway in a privy and secret place, and thither we went and\nopened the mouth thereof, whereas we found the sides covered with the\ncorruption of man, and the ashes and dust of his long buried body,\nwherein we got ourselves to bring our purpose to passe, and having\nrespect to the dark time of night, according to our custome, when we\nthought that every one was asleepe, we went with our weapons and\nbesieged the house of Demochares round about. Then Thrasileon was ready\nat hand, and leaped out of the caverne, and went to kill all such as he\nfound asleepe: but when he came to the Porter, he opened the gates and\nlet us in, and then he shewed us a large Counter, wherein we saw the\nnight before a great aboundance of treasure: which when by violence we\nhad broke open, I bid every one of my fellows take as much gold and\nsilver as they could carry away: and beare it to the sepulchre, and\nstill as they carried away I stood at the gate, watching diligently\nwhen they would returne. The Beare running about the house, to make\nsuch of the family afeared as fortuned to wake and come out. For who is\nhe that is so puissant and couragious, that at the ougly sight of so\ngreat a monster will not quayle and keep his chamber especially in the\nnight? But when wee had brought this matter to so good a point, there\nchanced a pittifull case, for as I looked for my companions that should\ncome from the sepulchre, behold there was a Boy of the house that\nfortuned to looke out of a window, and espied the Bear running about,\nand he went and told all the servants of the house. Whereupon\nincontinently they came forth with Torches, Lanthornes, and other\nlights, that they might see all the yard over: they came with clubs,\nspeares, naked swords, Greyhounds, and Mastifes to slay the poore\nbeast. Then I during this broyle thought to run away, but because I\nwould see Thrasileon fight with the Dogs, I lay behinde the gate to\nbehold him. And although I might perceive that he was well nigh dead,\nyet remembred he his owne faithfulnes and ours, and valiantly resisted\nthe gaping and ravenous mouths of the hell hounds, so tooke hee in gree\nthe pagiant which willingly he tooke in hand himself, and with much\nadoe tumbled at length out of the house: but when hee was at liberty\nabroad yet could he not save himself, for all the dogs of the Streete\njoyned themselves to the greyhounds and mastifes of the house, and came\nupon him.\n\nAlas what a pittifull sight it was to see our poore Thrasileon thus\nenvironed and compassed with so many dogs that tare and rent him\nmiserably. Then I impatient of so great a misery, ranne in among the\nprease of people, and ayding him with my words as much as I might,\nexhorted them all in this manner: O great and extreame mischance, what\na pretious and excellent beast have we lost. But my words did nothing\nprevaile, for there came out a tall man with a speare in his hand, that\nthrust him cleane through, and afterwards many that stood by drew out\ntheir swords, and so they killed him. But verily our good Captaine\nThrasileon, the honour of our comfort, received his death so patiently,\nthat he would not bewray the league betweene us, either by crying,\nhowling, or any other meanes, but being torn with dogs and wounded with\nweapons, did yeeld forth a dolefull cry, more like unto a beast than a\nman. And taking his present fortune in good part, with courage and\nglory enough did finish his life, with such a terror unto the assembly,\nthat no person was hardy until it was day, as to touch him, though hee\nwere starke dead: but at last there came a Butcher more valiant than\nthe rest, who opening the panch of the beast, slit out an hardy and\nventrous theefe.\n\nIn this manner we lost our Captain Thrasileon, but he left not his fame\nand honour.\n\nWhen this was done wee packed up our treasure, which we committed to\nthe sepulchre to keepe, and got out of the bounds of Platea, thus\nthinking with our selves, that there was more fidelity amongst the dead\nthan amongst the living, by reason that our preyes were so surely kept\nin the sepulchre. So being wearied with the weight of our burthens, and\nwell nigh tyred with long travell, having lost three of our soldiers,\nwe are come home with these present cheats.\n\nThus when they had spoken in memory of their slaine companions, they\ntooke cups of gold, and sung hymns unto the god mars, and layd them\ndowne to sleep. Then the old woman gave us fresh barley without\nmeasure, insomuch that my horse fed so abundantly that he might well\nthinke hee was at some banquet that day. But I that was accustomed to\neat bran and flower, thought that but a sower kinde of meate. Wherfore\nespying a corner where lay loaves of bread for all the house I got me\nthither and filled my hungry guts therewith.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER\n\n\nHow the Theeves stole away a Gentlewoman, and brought her to their den.\n\n\nWhen night was come the Theeves awaked and rose up, and when they had\nbuckled on their weapons, and disguised their faces with visards, they\ndeparted. And yet for all the great sleep that came upon me, I could in\nno wise leave eating: and whereas when I was a man I could be contented\nwith one or two loaves at the most, now my huts were so greedy that\nthree panniers full would scantly serve me, and while I considered\nthese things the morning came, and being led to a river,\nnotwithstanding my Assie shamefastnesse I quencht my thirst. And\nsuddenly after, the Theeves returned home carefull and heavy, bringing\nno burthens with them, no not so much as traffe or baggage, save only a\nmaiden, that seemed by her habit to be some gentlewoman borne, and the\ndaughter of some worthy matron of that country, who was so fair and\nbeautiful, that though I were an Asse, yet I had a great affection for\nher. The virgin lamented and tare her hair, and rent her garments, for\nthe great sorrow she was in; but the theeves brought her within the\ncave, and assisted her to comfort in this sort, Weep not fair\ngentlewoman we pray you, for be you assured we wil do no outrage or\nviolence to your person: but take patience a while for our profit, for\nnecessity and poore estate hath compelled us to do this enterprise: we\nwarrant you that your parents, although they bee covetous, will be\ncontented to give us a great quantity of mony to redeeme and ransome\nyou from our hands.\n\nWith such and like flattering words they endeavoured to appease the\ngentlewoman, howbeit shee would in no case be comforted, but put her\nhead betwixt her knees, and cried pittiously. Then they called the old\nwoman, and commaunded her to sit by the maiden, and pacify her dolor as\nmuch as shee might. And they departed away to rob, as they were\naccustomed to doe, but the virgin would not asswage her griefes, nor\nmitigate her sorrow by any entreaty of the old woman, but howled and\nsobbed in such sort, that she made me poore Asse likewise to weepe, and\nthus she said, Alas can I poore wench live any longer, that am come of\nso good a house, forsaken of my parents, friends, and family, made a\nrapine and prey, closed servilely in this stony prison, deprived of all\npleasure, wherein I have been brought up, thrown in danger, ready to be\nrent in pieces among so many sturdy theeves and dreadful robbers, can I\n(I say) cease from weeping, and live any longer? Thus she cried and\nlamented, and after she had wearied herself with sorrow and blubbered\nher face with teares, she closed the windowes of her hollow eyes, and\nlaid her downe to sleepe. And after that she had slept, she rose again\nlike a furious and mad woman, and beat her breast and comely face more\nthat she did before.\n\nThen the old woman enquired the causes of her new and sudden\nlamentation. To whom sighing in pittifull sort she answered, Alas now I\nam utterly undone, now am I out of all hope, O give me a knife to kill\nme, or a halter to hang me. Whereat the old [woman] was more angry, and\nseverely commanded her to tell her the cause of her sorrow, and why\nafter her sleep, she should renew her dolour and miserable weeping.\nWhat, thinke you (quoth she) to deprive our young men of the price of\nyour ransome? No, no therefore cease your crying, for the Theeves doe\nlittle esteeme your howling, and if you do not, I will surely burn you\nalive. Hereat the maiden was greatly feared, and kissed her hand and\nsaid, O mother take pitty upon me and my wretched fortune, and give me\nlicense a while to speake, for I think I shall not long live, let there\nbe mercy ripe and franke in thy venerable hoare head, and hear the sum\nof my calamity.\n\nThere was a comely young man, who for his bounty and grace was beloved\nentirely of all the towne, my cousine Germane, and but three years\nolder than I; we two were nourished and brought up in one house, lay\nunder one roofe, and in one chamber, and at length by promise of\nmarriage, and by consent of our parents we were contracted together.\nThe marriage day was come, the house was garnished with lawrel, and\ntorches were set in every place in the honour of Hymeneus, my espouse\nwas accompanied by his parents, kinsfolke, and friends, and made\nsacrifices in the temples and publique places. And when my unhappy\nmother pampered me in her lap, and decked me like a bride, kissing me\nsweetly, and making me a parent for Children, behold there came in a\ngreat multitude of theeves armed like men of warre, with naked swords\nin their hands, who went not about to doe any harme, neither to take\nany thing away, but brake into the chamber where I was, and violently\ntooke me out of my mothers armes, when none of our family would resist\nfor feare.\n\nIn this sort was our marriage disturbed, like the marriage of Hyppodame\nand Perithous. But behold my good mother, now my unhappy fortune is\nrenewed and encreased: For I dreamed in my sleepe, that I was pulled\nout of our house, out of our chamber, and out of my bed, and that I\nremoved about in solitary and unknowne places, calling upon the name of\nmy unfortunate husband, and how that he, as soone as he perceived that\nhe was taken away, even smelling with perfumes and crowned with\ngarlands, did trace me by the steppes, desiring the aid of the people\nto assist him, in that his wife was violently stollen away, and as he\nwent crying up and down, one of the theeves mooved with indignation, by\nreason of his pursuit, took up a stone that lay at his feet, and threw\nit at my husband and killed him. By the terror of which sight, and the\nfeare of so dreadfull a dreame, I awaked.\n\nThen the old woman rendring out like sighes, began to speake in this\nsort: My daughter take a good heart unto you, and bee not afeared at\nfeigned and strange visions and dreams, for as the visions of the day\nare accounted false and untrue, so the visions of the night doe often\nchange contrary. And to dream of weeping, beating, and killing, is a\ntoken of good luck and prosperous change. Whereas contrary to dreame of\nlaughing, carnal dalliance, and good cheere, is a signe of sadnesse,\nsicknesse, loss of substance, and displeasure. But I will tell thee a\npleasant tale, to put away all thy sorrow, and to revive thy spirits.\nAnd so shee began in this manner.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MARRIAGE OF CUPID AND PSYCHES\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-SECOND CHAPTER\n\n\nThe most pleasant and delectable tale of the marriage of Cupid and\nPsyches.\n\n\nThere was sometimes a certaine King, inhabiting in the West parts, who\nhad to wife a noble Dame, by whom he had three daughters exceeding\nfair: of whom the two elder were of such comly shape and beauty, as\nthey did excell and pass all other women living, whereby they were\nthought worthily to deserve the praise and commendation of every\nperson, and deservedly to be preferred above the residue of the common\nsort. Yet the singular passing beauty and maidenly majesty of the\nyoungest daughter did so farre surmount and excell then two, as no\nearthly creature could by any meanes sufficiently expresse or set out\nthe same.\n\nBy reason wherof, after the fame of this excellent maiden was spread\nabout in every part of the City, the Citisens and strangers there\nbeeing inwardly pricked by the zealous affection to behold her famous\nperson, came daily by thousands, hundreths, and scores, to her fathers\npalace, who was astonied with admiration of her incomparable beauty,\ndid no less worship and reverence her with crosses, signes, and tokens,\nand other divine adorations, according to the custome of the old used\nrites and ceremonies, than if she were the Lady Venus indeed, and\nshortly after the fame was spread into the next cities and bordering\nregions, that the goddess whom the deep seas had born and brought\nforth, and the froth of the waves had nourished, to the intent to show\nher high magnificencie and divine power on earth, to such as erst did\nhonour and worship her, was now conversant among mortall men, or else\nthat the earth and not the sea, by a new concourse and influence of the\ncelestiall planets, had budded and yeelded forth a new Venus, endued\nwith the floure of virginity.\n\nSo daily more and more encreased this opinion, and now is her flying\nfame dispersed into the next Island, and well nigh unto every part and\nprovince of the whole world. Wherupon innumerable strangers resorted\nfrom farre Countries, adventuring themselves by long journies on land\nand by great perils on water, to behold this glorious virgin. By\noccasion wherof such a contempt grew towards the goddesse Venus, that\nno person travelled unto the Towne Paphos, nor to the Isle Gyndos, nor\nto Cythera to worship her. Her ornaments were throwne out, her temples\ndefaced, her pillowes and cushions torne, her ceremonies neglected, her\nimages and Statues uncrowned, and her bare altars unswept, and fowl\nwith the ashes of old burnt sacrifice. For why, every person honoured\nand worshipped this maiden in stead of Venus, and in the morning at her\nfirst comming abroad offered unto her oblations, provided banquets,\ncalled her by the name of Venus, which was not Venus indeed, and in her\nhonour presented floures and garlands in most reverend fashion.\n\nThis sudden change and alteration of celestiall honour, did greatly\ninflame and kindle the love of very Venus, who unable to temper her\nselfe from indignation, shaking her head in raging sort, reasoned with\nher selfe in this manner, Behold the originall parent of all these\nelements, behold the Lady Venus renowned throughout all the world, with\nwhome a mortall maiden is joyned now partaker of honour: my name\nregistred in the city of heaven is prophaned and made vile by terrene\nabsurdities. If I shall suffer any mortall creature to present my\nMajesty on earth, or that any shall beare about a false surmised shape\nof her person, then in vaine did Paris the sheepheard (in whose\njudgement and competence the great Jupiter had affiance) preferre me\nabove the residue of the goddesses, for the excellency of my beauty:\nbut she, whatever she be that hath usurped myne honour, shal shortly\nrepent her of her unlawful estate. And by and by she called her winged\nsonne Cupid, rash enough and hardy, who by his evill manners contemning\nall publique justice and law, armed with fire and arrowes, running up\nand down in the nights from house to house, and corrupting the lawfull\nmarriages of every person, doth nothing but that which is evill, who\nalthough that hee were of his owne proper nature sufficiently prone to\nworke mischiefe, yet she egged him forward with words and brought him\nto the city, and shewed him Psyches (for so the maid was called) and\nhaving told the cause of her anger, not without great rage, I pray thee\n(quoth she) my dear childe, by motherly bond of love, by the sweet\nwounds of thy piercing darts, by the pleasant heate of thy fire,\nrevenge the injury which is done to thy mother by the false and\ndisobedient beauty of a mortall maiden, and I pray thee, that without\ndelay shee may fall in love with the most miserablest creature living,\nthe most poore, the most crooked, and the most vile, that there may bee\nnone found in all the world of like wretchednesse. When she had spoken\nthese words she embraced and kissed her sonne, and took her voyage\ntoward the sea.\n\nWhen she came upon the sea she began to cal the gods and goddesses, who\nwere obedient at her voyce. For incontinent came the daughters of\nNereus, singing with tunes melodiously: Portunus with his bristled and\nrough beard, Salita with her bosome full of fish, Palemon the driver of\nthe Dolphine, the Trumpetters of Tryton, leaping hither and thither,\nand blowing with heavenly noyse: such was the company which followed\nVenus, marching towards the ocean sea.\n\nIn the meane season Psyches with all her beauty received no fruit of\nhonor. She was wondred at of all, she was praised of all, but she\nperceived that no King nor Prince, nor any one of the superiour sort\ndid repaire to wooe her. Every one marvelled at her divine beauty, as\nit were some Image well painted and set out. Her other two sisters,\nwhich were nothing so greatly exalted by the people, were royally\nmarried to two Kings: but the virgin Psyches, sitting alone at home,\nlamented her solitary life, and being disquieted both in mind and body,\nalthough she pleased all the world, yet hated shee in her selfe her\nowne beauty. Whereupon the miserable father of this unfortunate\ndaughter, suspecting that the gods and powers of heaven did envy her\nestate, went to the town called Milet to receive the Oracle of Apollo,\nwhere he made his prayers and offered sacrifice, and desired a husband\nfor his daughter: but Apollo though he were a Grecian, and of the\ncountry of Ionia, because of the foundation of Milet, yet hee gave\nanswer in Latine verse, the sence whereof was this:\u2014\n\nLet Psyches corps be clad in mourning weed,\nAnd set on rock of yonder hill aloft:\nHer husband is no wight of humane seed,\nBut Serpent dire and fierce as might be thought.\nWho flies with wings above in starry skies,\nAnd doth subdue each thing with firie flight.\nThe gods themselves, and powers that seem so wise,\nWith mighty Jove, be subject to his might,\nThe rivers blacke, and deadly flouds of paine\nAnd darkness eke, as thrall to him remaine.\n\n\nThe King, sometimes happy when he heard the prophesie of Apollo,\nreturned home sad and sorrowful, and declared to his wife the miserable\nand unhappy fate of his daughter. Then they began to lament and weep,\nand passed over many dayes in great sorrow. But now the time approached\nof Psyches marriage, preparation was made, blacke torches were lighted,\nthe pleasant songs were turned into pittifull cries, the melody of\nHymeneus was ended with deadly howling, the maid that should be married\ndid wipe her eyes with her vaile. All the family and people of the city\nweeped likewise, and with great lamentation was ordained a remisse time\nfor that day, but necessity compelled that Psyches should be brought to\nher appointed place, according to the divine appointment.\n\nAnd when the solemnity was ended, they went to bring the sorrowful\nspowse, not to her marriage, but to her final end and burial. And while\nthe father and mother of Psyches did go forward weeping and crying unto\nthis enterprise, Psyches spake unto them in this sort: Why torment your\nunhappy age with continuall dolour? Why trouble you your spirits, which\nare more rather mine than yours? Why soyle ye your faces with teares,\nwhich I ought to adore and worship? Why teare you my eyes in yours? why\npull you your hory haires? Why knocke ye your breasts for me? Now you\nsee the reward of my excellent beauty: now, now you perceive, but too\nlate, the plague of envy. When the people did honour me, and call me\nnew Venus, then yee should have wept, then you should have sorrowed as\nthough I had been dead: for now I see and perceive that I am come to\nthis misery by the only name of Venus, bring mee, and as fortune has\nappointed, place me on the top of the rocke, I greatly desire to end my\nmarriage, I greatly covet to see my husband. Why doe I delay? why\nshould I refuse him that is appointed to destroy all the world.\n\nThus ended she her words, and thrust her selfe among the people that\nfollowed. Then they brought her to the appointed rocke of the high\nhill, and set [her] hereon, and so departed. The Torches and lights\nwere put out with the teares of the people, and every man gone home,\nthe miserable Parents well nigh consumed with sorrow, gave themselves\nto everlasting darknes.\n\nThus poore Psyches being left alone, weeping and trembling on the toppe\nof the rocke, was blowne by the gentle aire and of shrilling Zephyrus,\nand carried from the hill with a meek winde, which retained her\ngarments up, and by little and little bought her downe into a deepe\nvalley, where she was laid in a bed of most sweet and fragrant flowers.\n\nThus faire Psyches being sweetly couched among the soft and tender\nhearbs, as in a bed of sweet and fragrant floures, and having qualified\nthe thoughts and troubles of her restlesse minde, was now well reposed.\nAnd when she had refreshed her selfe sufficiently with sleepe, she rose\nwith a more quiet and pacified minde, and fortuned to espy a pleasant\nwood invironed with great and mighty trees. Shee espied likewise a\nrunning river as cleare as crystall: in the midst of the wood well nigh\nat the fall of the river was a princely Edifice, wrought and builded\nnot by the art or hand of man, but by the mighty power of God: and you\nwould judge at the first entry therin, that it were some pleasant and\nworthy mansion for the powers of heaven. For the embowings above were\nof Citron and Ivory, propped and undermined with pillars of gold, the\nwalls covered and seeled with silver, divers sorts of beasts were\ngraven and carved, that seemed to encounter with such as entered in.\nAll things were so curiously and finely wrought, that it seemed either\nto be the worke of some Demy god, or of God himselfe. The pavement was\nall of pretious stones, divided and cut one from another, whereon was\ncarved divers kindes of pictures, in such sort that blessed and thrice\nblessed were they that might goe upon such a pavement: Every part and\nangle of the house was so well adorned, that by reason of the pretious\nstones and inestimable treasure there, it glittered and shone in such\nsort, that the chambers, porches, and doores gave light as it had beene\nthe Sunne. Neither otherwise did the other treasure of the house\ndisagree unto so great a majesty, that verily it seemed in every point\nan heavenly Palace, fabricate and built for Jupiter himselfe.\n\nThen Psyches moved with delectation approched nigh and taking a bold\nheart entred into the house, and beheld every thing there with great\naffection, she saw storehouses wrought exceedingly fine, and\nreplenished with aboundance of riches. Finally, there could nothing be\ndevised which lacked there: but among such great store of treasure this\nwas most marvellous, that there was no closure, bolt, nor locke to\nkeepe the same. And when with great pleasure shee had viewed all these\nthings, she heard a voyce without any body, that sayd, Why doe you\nmarvell Madame at so great riches? behold, all that you see is at your\ncommandement, wherefore goe you into the chamber, and repose your selfe\nupon the bed, and desire what bath you will have, and wee whose voyces\nyou heare bee your servants, and ready to minister unto you according\nto your desire. In the meane season, royall meats and dainty dishes\nshall be prepared for you.\n\nThen Psyches perceived the felicity of divine providence, and according\nto the advertisement of the incorporeall voyces she first reposed her\nselfe upon the bed, and then refreshed her body in the baines. This\ndone, shee saw the table garnished with meats, and a chaire to sit\ndowne.\n\nWhen Psyches was set downe, all sorts of divine meats and wines were\nbrought in, not by any body, but as it were with a winde, for she saw\nno person before her, but only heard voyces on every side. After that\nall the services were brought to the table, one came in and sung\ninvisibly, another played on the harpe, but she saw no man. The harmony\nof the Instruments did so greatly shrill in her eares, that though\nthere were no manner of person, yet seemed she in the midst of a\nmultitude of people.\n\nAll these pleasures finished, when night aproched Psyches went to bed,\nand when she was layd, that the sweet sleep came upon her, she greatly\nfeared her virginity, because shee was alone. Then came her unknowne\nhusband and lay with her: and after that hee had made a perfect\nconsummation of the marriage, he rose in the morning before day, and\ndeparted. Soone after came her invisible servants, and presented to her\nsuch things as were necessary for her defloration. And thus she passed\nforth a great while, and as it happeneth, the novelty of the things by\ncontinuall custome did encrease her pleasure, but especially the sound\nof the instruments was a comfort to her being alone.\n\nDuring this time that Psyches was in this place of pleasures, her\nfather and mother did nothing but weepe and lament, and her two sisters\nhearing of her most miserable fortune, came with great dolour and\nsorrow to comfort and speake with her parents.\n\nThe night following, Psyches husband spake unto her (for she might\nfeele his eyes, his hands, and his ears) and sayd, O my sweet Spowse\nand dear wife, fortune doth menace unto thee imminent danger, wherof I\nwish thee greatly to beware: for know that thy sisters, thinking that\nthou art dead, bee greatly troubled, and are coming to the mountain by\nthy steps. Whose lamentations if thou fortune to heare, beware that\nthou doe in no wise make answer, or looke up towards them, for if thou\ndoe thou shalt purchase to mee great sorrow, and to thyself utter\ndestruction. Psyches hearing her Husband, was contented to doe all\nthings as hee had commanded.\n\nAfter that hee was departed and the night passed away, Psyches lamented\nand lamented all the day following, thinking that now shee was past all\nhopes of comfort, in that shee was closed within the walls of a prison,\ndeprived of humane conversation, and commaunded not to aid her\nsorrowful Sisters, no nor once to see them. Thus she passed all the day\nin weeping, and went to bed at night, without any refection of meat or\nbaine.\n\nIncontinently after came her husband, who when he had embraced her\nsweetly, began to say, Is it thus that I find you perform your promise,\nmy sweet wife? What do I finde heere? Passe you all the day and the\nnight in weeping? And wil you not cease in your husbands armes? Goe\ntoo, doe what ye will, purchase your owne destruction, and when you\nfind it so, then remember my words, and repent but too late. Then she\ndesired her husband more and more, assuring him that shee should die,\nunlesse he would grant that she might see her sisters, wherby she might\nspeak with them and comfort them, wherat at length he was contented,\nand moreover hee willed that shee should give them as much gold and\njewels as she would. But he gave her a further charge saying, Beware\nthat ye covet not (being mooved by the pernicious counsell of you\nsisters) to see the shape of my person, lest by your curiosity you\ndeprive your selfe of so great and worthy estate. Psyches being glad\nherewith, rendered unto him most entire thankes, and said, Sweet\nhusband, I had rather die than to bee separated from you, for whosoever\nyou bee, I love and retaine you within my heart, as if you were myne\nowne spirit or Cupid himselfe: but I pray you grant this likewise, that\nyou would commaund your servant Zephyrus to bring my sisters downe into\nthe valley as he brought mee.\n\nWherewithall shee kissed him sweetly, and desired him gently to grant\nher request, calling him her spowse, her sweetheart, her Joy and her\nSolace. Wherby she enforced him to agree to her mind, and when morning\ncame he departed away.\n\nAfter long search made, the sisters of Psyches came unto the hill where\nshe was set on the rocke, and cried with a loud voyce in such sort that\nthe stones answered againe. And when they called their sister by her\nname, that their lamentable cries came unto her eares, shee came forth\nand said, Behold, heere is shee for whom you weepe, I pray you torment\nyour selves no more, cease your weeping. And by and by she commaunded\nZephyrus by the appointment of her husband to bring them downe. Neither\ndid he delay, for with gentle blasts he retained them up and laid them\nsoftly in the valley. I am not able to expresse the often embracing,\nkissing and greeting which was between them three, all sorrows and\ntears were then layd apart.\n\nCome in (quoth Psyches) into our house, and refresh your afflicted\nmindes with your sister.\n\nAfter this she shewed them the storehouses of treasure, shee caused\nthem to hear the voyces which served her, the bain was ready, the meats\nwere brought in, and when they had filled themselves with divine\ndelecates, they conceived great envy within their hearts, and one of\nthem being curious, did demand what her husband was, of what estate,\nand who was Lord of so pretious a house? But Psyches remembring the\npromise which she had made to her husband, feigned that hee was a young\nman, of comely stature, with a flaxen beard, and had great delight in\nhunting the dales and hills by. And lest by her long talke she should\nbe found to trip or faile in her words, she filled their laps with\ngold, silver, and Jewels, and commanded Zephyrus to carry them away.\n\nWhen they were brought up to the mountain, they made their wayes\nhomeward to their owne houses, and murmured with envy that they bare\nagainst Psyches, saying, behold cruell and contrary fortune, behold how\nwe, borne all of one Parent, have divers destinies: but especially we\nthat are the elder two bee married to strange husbands, made as\nhandmaidens, and as it were banished from our Countrey and friends.\nWhereas our younger sister hath great abundance of treasure, and hath\ngotten a god to her husband, although shee hath no skill how to use\nsuch great plenty of riches. Saw you not sister what was in the house,\nwhat great store of jewels, what glittering robes, what Gemmes, what\ngold we trod on? That if shee hath a husband according as shee\naffirmeth, there is none that liveth this day more happy in all the\nworld than she. And so it may come to passe, at length for the great\naffection which hee may beare unto her that hee may make her a\ngoddesse, for by Hercules, such was her countenance, so she behaved her\nself, that as a goddesse she had voices to serve her, and the windes\ndid obey her.\n\nBut I poore wretch have first married an husband elder than my father,\nmore bald than a Coot, more weake than a childe, and that locketh me up\nall day in the house.\n\nThen said the other sister, And in faith I am married to a husband that\nhath the gout, twyfold, crooked, nor couragious in paying my debt, I am\nfaine to rub and mollifie his stony fingers with divers sorts of oyles,\nand to wrap them in playsters and salves, so that I soyle my white and\ndainty hands with the corruption of filthy clouts, not using my self\nlike a wife, but more like a servant. And you my sister seem likewise\nto be in bondage and servitude, wherefore I cannot abide to see our\nyounger sister in such felicity; saw you not I pray you how proudly and\narrogantly she handled us even now? And how in vaunting her selfe she\nuttered her presumptuous minde, how she cast a little gold into our\nlaps, and being weary of our company, commanded that we should be borne\nand blown away?\n\nVerily I live not, nor am a woman, but I will deprive her of all her\nblisse. And if you my sister bee so far bent as I, let us consult\ntogether, and not to utter our minde to any person, no not to our\nparents, nor tell that ever we saw her. For it sufficeth that we have\nseene her, whom it repenteth to have seene. Neither let us declare her\ngood fortune to our father, nor to any other, since as they seeme not\nhappy whose riches are unknowne: so shall she know that she hath\nsisters no Abjects, but worthier than she.\n\nBut now let us goe home to our husbands and poore houses, and when we\nare better instructed, let us return to suppresse her pride. So this\nevill counsell pleased these two evil women, and they hid the treasure\nwhich Psyches gave them, and tare their haire, renewing their false and\nforged teares. When their father and mother beheld them weep and lament\nstill, they doubled their sorrowes and griefes, but full of yre and\nforced with Envy, they tooke their voyage homeward, devising the\nslaughter and destruction of their sister.\n\nIn the meane season the husband of Psyches did warne her againe in the\nnight with these words: Seest thou not (quoth he) what perill and\ndanger evill fortune doth threaten unto thee, whereof if thou take not\ngood heed it will shortly come upon thee. For the unfaithfull harlots\ndoe greatly endeavor to set their snares to catch thee, and their\npurpose is to make and perswade thee to behold my face, which if thou\nonce fortune to see, as I have often told, thou shalt see no more.\nWherfore if these naughty hagges, armed with wicked minds, doe chance\nto againe (as I think no otherwise but that they will) take heed that\nthou talk not with them but simply suffer them to speake what they\nwill, howbeit if thou canst not refraine thy selfe, beware that thou\nhave no communication of thy husband, nor answer a word if they fortune\nto question of me, so will we encrease our stocke, and this young and\ntender childe, couched in this young and tender belly of thine, shall\nbe made an immortall god, otherwise a mortal creature. Then Psyches was\nvery glad that she should bring forth a divine babe, and very joyfull\nin that she should be honored as a mother. She reckened and numbered\ncarefully the days and months that passed, and beeing never with child\nbefore, did marvel greatly that in so short a time her belly should\nswel so big. But those pestilent and wicked furies breathing out their\nSerpentine poyson, took shipping to bring their enterprise to passe.\nThen Psyches was warned again by her husband in this sort: Behold the\nlast day, the extream case, and the enemies of thy blood, hath armed\nthemselves against us, pitched their campe, set their host in array,\nand are marching towards us, for now thy two sisters have drawn their\nswords and are ready to slay thee. O with what force are we assailed on\nthis day! O sweet Psyches I pray thee to take pitty on thy selfe, of\nme, and deliver thy husband and this infant within thy belly from so\ngreat danger, and see not, neither heare these cursed women, which are\nnot worthy to be called thy sisters, for their great hatred and breach\nof sisterly amity, for they wil come like Syrens to the mountains, and\nyeeld out their pittious and lamentable cries. When Psyches had heard\nthese words she sighed sorrowfully and said, O deare husband this long\ntime have you had experience and triall of my faith, and doubt you not\nthat I will persever in the same, wherefore command your winde\nZephyrus, that hee may doe as hee hath done before, to the intent that\nwhere you have charged me not to behold your venerable face, yet that I\nmay comfort myself with the sight of my sisters. I pray you by these\nbeautifull haires, by these round cheekes delicate and tender, by your\npleasant hot breast, whose shape and face I shall learn at length by\nthe childe in my belly, grant the fruit of my desire, refresh your\ndeare Spowse Psyches with joy, who is bound and linked unto you for\never. I little esteeme to see your visage and figure, little doe I\nregard the night and darknesse thereof, for you are my only light.\n\nHer husband being as it were inchanted with these words and compelled\nby violence of her often embracing, wiping away her teares with his\nhaire, did yeeld unto his wife. And when morning came, departed as hee\nwas accustomed to doe.\n\nNow her sisters arrived on land, and never rested til they came to the\nrock, without visiting their parents, and leapt down rashly from the\nhill themselves. Then Zephyrus according to the divine commandment\nbrought them down, although it were against his wil, and laid them in\nthe vally without any harm: by and by they went into the palace to\ntheir sister without leave, and when they had eftsoone embraced their\nprey, and thanked her with flattering words for the treasure which she\ngave them, they said, O deare sister Psyches, know you that you are now\nno more a child, but a mother: O what great joy beare you unto us in\nyour belly? What a comfort will it be unto all the house? How happy\nshall we be, that shall see this Infant nourished amongst so great\nplenty of Treasure? That if he be like his parents, as it is necessary\nhe should, there is no doubt but a new cupid shall be borne. By this\nkinde of measures they went about to winne Psyches by little and\nlittle, but because they were wearie with travell, they sate them downe\nin chaires, and after that they had washed their bodies in baines they\nwent into a parlour, where all kinde of meats were ready prepared.\nPsyches commanded one to play with his harpe, it was done. Then\nimmediately others sung, others tuned their instruments, but no person\nwas seene, by whose sweet harmony and modulation the sisters of Psyches\nwere greatly delighted.\n\nHowbeit the wickednesse of these cursed women was nothing suppressed by\nthe sweet noyse of these instruments, but they settled themselves to\nwork their treasons against Psyches, demanding who was her husband, and\nof what Parentage. Then shee having forgotten by too much simplicity,\nwhat shee had spoken before of her husband, invented a new answer, and\nsaid that her husband was of a great province, a merchant, and a man of\nmiddle age, having his beard intersparsed with grey haires. Which when\nshee had spoken (because shee would have no further talke) she filled\ntheir laps with Gold and Silver, and bid Zephyrus to bear them away.\n\nIn their returne homeward they murmured within themselves, saying, How\nsay you sister to so apparent a lye of Psyches? First she sayd that her\nhusband was a young man of flourishing yeares, and had a flaxen beard,\nand now she sayth that he is halfe grey with age. What is he that in so\nshort a space can become so old? You shall finde it no otherwise my\nsister, but that either this cursed queane hath invented a great lie,\nor else that she never saw the shape of her husband. And if it be so\nthat she never saw him, then verily she is married to some god, and\nhath a young god in her belly. But if it be a divine babe, and fortune\nto come to the eares of my mother (as God forbid it should) then may I\ngo and hang my selfe: wherfore let us go to our parents, and with\nforged lies let us colour the matter.\n\nAfter they were thus inflamed, and had visited their Parents, they\nreturned againe to the mountaine, and by the aid of the winde Zephyrus\nwere carried down into the valley, and after they had streined their\neye lids, to enforce themselves to weepe, they called unto Psyches in\nthis sort, Thou (ignorant of so great evill) thinkest thy selfe sure\nand happy, and sittest at home nothing regarding thy peril, whereas wee\ngoe about thy affaires and are carefull lest any harme should happen\nunto you: for we are credibly informed, neither can we but utter it\nunto you, that there is a great serpent full of deadly poyson, with a\nravenous gaping throat, that lieth with thee every night. Remember the\nOracle of Apollo, who pronounced that thou shouldest be married to a\ndire and fierce Serpent, and many of the Inhabitants hereby, and such\nas hunt about in the countrey, affirme that they saw him yesternight\nreturning from pasture and swimming over the River, whereby they doe\nundoubtedly say, that hee will not pamper thee long with delicate\nmeats, but when the time of delivery shall approach he will devoure\nboth thee and thy child: wherefore advise thy selfe whether thou wilt\nagree unto us that are carefull of thy safety, and so avoid the perill\nof death, bee contented to live with thy sisters, or whether thou\nremaine with the Serpent and in the end be swallowed into the gulfe of\nhis body. And if it be so that thy solitary life, thy conversation with\nvoices, this servile and dangerous pleasure, and the love of the\nSerpent doe more delight thee, say not but that we have played the\nparts of naturall sisters in warning thee.\n\nThen the poore and simple miser Psyches was mooved with the feare of so\ndreadful words, and being amazed in her mind, did cleane forget the\nadmonitions of her husband, and her owne promises made unto him, and\nthrowing her selfe headlong into extreame misery, with a wanne and\nsallow countenance, scantly uttering a third word, at length gan say in\nthis sort: O my most deare sisters, I heartily thanke you for your\ngreat kindnesse toward me, and I am now verily perswaded that they\nwhich have informed you hereof hath informed you of nothing but truth,\nfor I never saw the shape of my husband, neither know I from whence he\ncame, only I heare his voice in the night, insomuch that I have an\nuncertaine husband, and one that loveth not the light of the day: which\ncauseth me to suspect that he is a beast, as you affirme. Moreover, I\ndoe greatly feare to see him, for he doth menace and threaten great\nevill unto mee, if I should goe about to spy and behold his shape\nwherefore my loving sisters if you have any wholeome remedy for your\nsister in danger, give it now presently. Then they opened the gates of\ntheir subtill mindes, and did put away all privy guile, and egged her\nforward in her fearefull thoughts, perswading her to doe as they would\nhave her whereupon one of them began and sayd, Because that wee little\nesteeme any perill or danger, to save your life we intend to shew you\nthe best way and meane as we may possibly do. Take a sharpe razor and\nput it under the pillow of your bed; and see that you have ready a\nprivy burning lampe with oyle, hid under some part of the hanging of\nthe chamber, and finely dissembling the matter when according to his\ncustome he commeth to bed and sleepeth soundly, arise you secretly, and\nwith your bare feet goe and take the lampe, with the Razor in your\nright hand and with valiant force cut off the head of the poysonous\nserpent, wherein we will aid and assist you: and when by the death of\nhim you shall be made safe, we wil marry you to some comely man.\n\nAfter they had thus inflamed the heart of their sister fearing lest\nsome danger might happen unto them by reason of their evill counsell,\nthey were carried by the wind Zephyrus to the top of the mountaine, and\nso they ran away and tooke shipping.\n\nWhen Psyches was left alone (saving that she seemed not to be alone,\nbeing stirred by so many furies) she was in a tossing minde like the\nwaves of the sea, and although her wil was obstinate, and resisted to\nput in execution the counsell of her Sisters, yet she was in doubtfull\nand divers opinions touching her calamity. Sometime she would, sometime\nshe would not, sometime she is bold, sometime she feareth, sometime\nshee mistrusteth, somtime she is mooved, somtime she hateth the beast,\nsomtime she loveth her husband: but at length night came, when as she\nprepared for her wicked intent.\n\nSoon after her husband came, and when he had kissed and embraced her he\nfell asleep. Then Psyches (somwhat feeble in body and mind, yet mooved\nby cruelty of fate) received boldnes and brought forth the lampe, and\ntooke the razor, so by her audacity she changed her mind: but when she\ntook the lamp and came to the bed side, she saw the most meeke and\nsweetest beast of all beasts, even faire Cupid couched fairly, at whose\nsight the very lampe encreased his light for joy, and the razor turned\nhis edge.\n\nBut when Psyches saw so glorious a body shee greatly feared, and amazed\nin mind, with a pale countenance all trembling fel on her knees and\nthought to hide the razor, yea verily in her owne heart, which\ndoubtlesse she had done, had it not through feare of so great an\nenterprise fallen out of her hand. And when she saw and beheld the\nbeauty of the divine visage shee was well recreated in her mind, she\nsaw his haires of gold, that yeelded out a sweet savor, his neck more\nwhite than milk, his purple cheeks, his haire hanging comely behinde\nand before, the brightnesse whereof did darken the light of the lamp,\nhis tender plume feathers, dispersed upon his sholders like shining\nflours, and trembling hither and thither, and his other parts of his\nbody so smooth and so soft, that it did not repent Venus to beare such\na childe. At the beds feet lay his bow, quiver, and arrowes, that be\nthe weapons of so great a god: which when Psyches did curiously behold,\nshe marvelling at her husbands weapons, took one of the arrows out of\nthe quiver, and pricked her selfe withall, wherwith she was so\ngrievously wounded that the blood followed, and thereby of her owne\naccord shee added love upon love; then more broyling in the love of\nCupid shee embraced him and kissed him and kissed him a thousand times,\nfearing the measure of his sleepe. But alas while shee was in this\ngreat joy, whether it were for envy for desire to touch this amiable\nbody likewise, there fell out a droppe of burning oyle from the lampe\nupon the right shoulder of the god. O rash and bold lampe, the vile\nministery of love, how darest thou bee so bold as to burne the god of\nall fire? When as he invented thee, to the intent that all lovers might\nwith more joy passe the nights in pleasure.\n\nThe god beeing burned in this sort, and perceiving that promise and\nfaith was broken, hee fled away without utterance of any word, from the\neyes and hands of his most unhappy wife. But Psyches fortuned to catch\nhim as hee was rising by the right thigh, and held him fast as hee flew\nabove in the aire, until such time as constrained by wearinesse shee\nlet goe and fell downe upon the ground. But Cupid followed her downe,\nand lighted upon the top of a Cypresse tree, and angerly spake unto her\nin this manner: O simple Psyches, consider with thy selfe how I, little\nregarding the commandement of my mother (who willed mee that thou\nshouldst bee married to a man of base and miserable condition) did come\nmy selfe from heaven to love thee, and wounded myne owne body with my\nproper weapons, to have thee to my Spowse: And did I seeme a beast unto\nthee, that thou shouldst go about to cut off my head with a razor, who\nloved thee so well? Did not I alwayes give thee a charge? Did not I\ngently will thee to beware? But those cursed aides and Counsellors of\nthine shall be worthily rewarded for their pains. As for thee thou\nshalt be sufficiently punished by my absence. When hee had spoken these\nwords he tooke his flight into the aire. Then Psyches fell flat on the\nground, and as long as she could see her husband she cast her eyes\nafter him into the aire, weeping and lamenting pitteously: but when hee\nwas gone out of her sight shee threw her selfe into the next running\nriver, for the great anguish and dolour that shee was in for the lack\nof her husband, howbeit the water would not suffer her to be drowned,\nbut tooke pity upon her, in the honour of Cupid which accustomed to\nbroyle and burne the river, and threw her upon the bank amongst the\nherbs.\n\nThen Pan the rusticall god sitting on the river side, embracing and\n[instructing] the goddesse Canna to tune her songs and pipes, by whom\nwere feeding the young and tender Goats, after that he perceived\nPsyches in sorrowful case, not ignorant (I know not by what meanes) of\nher miserable estate, endeavored to pacific her in this sort: O faire\nmaid, I am a rusticke and rude heardsman, howbeit by reason of my old\nage expert in many things, for as farre as I can learnt by conjecture\n(which according as wise men doe terme is called divination) I perceive\nby your uncertaine gate, your pale hew, your sobbing sighes, and your\nwatery eyes, that you are greatly in love. Wherefore hearken to me, and\ngoe not about to slay your selfe, nor weepe not at all, but rather\nadore and worship the great god Cupid, and winne him unto you by your\ngentle promise of service.\n\nWhen the god of Shepherds had spoken these words, she gave no answer,\nbut made reverence to him as to a god, and so departed.\n\nAfter that Psyches had gone a little way, she fortuned unawares to come\nto a city where the husband of one of her Sisters did dwell. Which when\nPsyches did understand, shee caused that her sister had knowledge of\nher comming, and so they met together, and after great embracing and\nsalutation, the sister of Psyches demaunded the cause of her travell\nthither. Marry (quoth she) doe you not remember the counsell you gave\nme, whereby you would that I should kill the beast which under colour\nof my husband did lie with mee every night? You shall understand, that\nas soone as I brought forth the lampe to see and behold his shape, I\nperceived that he was the sonne of Venus, even Cupid himselfe that lay\nwith mee. Then I being stricken with great pleasure, and desirous to\nembrace him, could not thoroughly asswage my delight, but alas by evill\nill chance the oyle of the lampe fortuned to fall on his shoulder which\ncaused him to awake, and seeing me armed with fire and weapons, gan\nsay, How darest thou be so bold to doe so great a mischiefe? Depart\nfrom me and take such things as thou didst bring: for I will have thy\nsister (and named you) to my wife, and she shall be placed in thy\nfelicity, and by and by hee commaunded Zephyrus to carry me away from\nthe bounds of his house.\n\nPsyches had scantly finished her tale but her sister pierced with the\npricke of carnall desire and wicked envy ran home, and feigning to her\nhusband that she had heard word of the death of her parents tooke\nshipping and came to the mountaine. And although there blew a contrary\nwinde, yet being brought in a vaine hope shee cried O Cupid take me a\nmore worthy wife, and thou Zephyrus beare downe thy mistresse, and so\nshe cast her selfe headlong from the mountaine: but shee fell not into\nthe valley neither alive nor dead, for all the members and parts of her\nbody were torne amongst the rockes, wherby she was made prey unto the\nbirds and wild beasts, as she worthily deserved.\n\nNeither was the vengeance of the other delayed, for Psyches travelling\nin that country, fortuned to come to another city where her other\nsister did dwel; to whom when shee had declared all such things as she\ntold to her other sister shee ran likewise unto the rock and was slaine\nin like sort. Then Psyches travelled about in the countrey to seeke her\nhusband Cupid, but he was gotten into his mothers chamber and there\nbewailed the sorrowful wound which he caught by the oyle of a burning\nlamp.\n\nThen the white bird the Gull, which swims on the waves of the water,\nflew toward the Ocean sea, where he found Venus washing and bathing her\nselfe: to whom she declared that her son was burned and in danger of\ndeath, and moreover that it was a common brute in the mouth of every\nperson (who spake evill of all the family of Venus) that her son doth\nnothing but haunt harlots in the mountain, and she her self\nlasciviously use to ryot in the sea: wherby they say that they are now\nbecome no more gratious, pleasant nor gentle, but incivile, monstrous\nand horrible. Moreover, that marriages are not for any amity, or for\nlove of procreation, but full of envy, discord, and debate. This the\ncurious Gul did clatter in the ears of Venus, reprehending her son. But\nVenus began to cry and sayd, What hath my sonne gotten any Love? I pray\nthee gentle bird that doest serve me so faithfully, tell me what she\nis, and what is her name that hath troubled my son in such sort?\nwhether shee be any of the Nymphs, of the number of the goddesses, of\nthe company of the Muses, or of the mistery of the Graces? To whom the\nbird answered, Madam I know not what shee is, but this I know that she\nis called Psyches. Then Venus with indignation cried out, What is it\nshe? the usurper of my beauty, the Vicar of my name? What did he think\nthat I was a bawd, by whose shew he fell acquainted with the maid? And\nimmediately she departed and went to her chamber, where she found her\nson wounded as it was told unto her, whom when she beheld she cries out\nin this sort.\n\nIs this an honest thing, is this honourable to thy parents? is this\nreason, that thou hast violated and broken the commandement of thy\nmother and soveraign mistresse: and whereas thou shouldst have vexed my\nenemy with loathsom love, thou hast done otherwise?\n\nFor being of tender and unripe yeares, thou hast with too licentious\nappetite embraced my most mortall Foe, to whome I shall bee made a\nmother, and she a Daughter.\n\nThou presumest and thinkest, thou trifling boy, thou Varlet, and\nwithout all reverence, that thou art most worthy and excellent, and\nthat I am not able by reason of myne age to have another son, which if\nI should have, thou shouldst well understand that I would beare a more\nworthier than thou. But to worke thee a greater despight, I do\ndetermine to adopt one of my servants, and to give him these wings,\nthis fire, this bow, and these Arrowes, and all other furniture which I\ngave to thee, not to this purpose, neither is any thing given thee of\nthy father for this intent: but first thou hast been evill brought up\nand instructed in thy youth thou hast thy hands ready and sharpe. Thou\nhast often offended thy antients, and especially me that am thy mother,\nthou hast pierced mee with thy darts thou contemnest me as a widow,\nneither dost thou regard thy valiant and invincible father, and to\nanger me more, thou art amorous of harlots and wenches: hot I will\ncause that thou shalt shortly repent thee, and that this marriage shal\nbe dearely bought. To what a point am I now driven? What shall I do?\nWhither shall I goe? How shall I represse this beast? Shall I aske ayd\nof myne enemy Sobriety, whom I have often offended to engender thee? Or\nshall I seeke for counsel of every poore rusticall woman? No, no, yet\nhad I rather dye, howbeit I will not cease my vengeance, to her must I\nhave recourse for helpe, and to none other (I meane to Sobriety), who\nmay correct thee sharpely, take away thy quiver, deprive thee of thy\narrowes, unbend thy bow, quench thy fire, and which is more subdue thy\nbody with punishment: and when that I have rased and cut off this thy\nhaire, which I have dressed with myne owne hands, and made to glitter\nlike gold, and when I have clipped thy wings, which I my selfe have\ncaused to burgen, then shall I thinke to have revenged my selfe\nsufficiently upon thee for the injury which thou hast done. When shee\nhad spoken these words shee departed in a great rage out of her\nchamber.\n\nImmediatelie as she was going away came Juno and Ceres, demaunding the\ncause of her anger. Then Venus answered, Verily you are come to comfort\nmy sorrow, but I pray you with all diligence to seeke out one whose\nname is Psyches, who is a vagabond, and runneth about the Countries,\nand (as I thinke) you are not ignorant of the brute of my son Cupid,\nand of his demeanour, which I am ashamed to declare. Then they\nunderstanding the whole matter, endeavoured to mitigate the ire of\nVenus in this sort: What is the cause Madam, or how hath your son so\noffended, that you shold so greatly accuse his love, and blame him by\nreason that he is amorous? and why should you seeke the death of her,\nwhom he doth fancie? We most humbly intreat you to pardon his fault if\nhe have accorded to the mind of any maiden: what do you not know that\nhe is a young man? Or have you forgotten of what yeares he is? Doth he\nseeme alwayes unto you to be a childe? You are his mother, and a kind\nwoman, will you continually search out his dalliance? Will you blame\nhis luxury? Will you bridle his love? and will you reprehend your owne\nart and delights in him? What God or man is hee, that can endure that\nyou should sowe or disperse your seed of love in every place, and to\nmake restraint thereof within your owne doores? certes you will be the\ncause of the suppression of the publike paces of young Dames. In this\nsort this goddesse endeavoured to pacifie her mind, and to excuse Cupid\nwith al their power (although he were absent) for feare of his darts\nand shafts of love. But Venus would in no wise asswage her heat, but\n(thinking that they did rather trifle and taunt at her injuries) she\ndeparted from them, and tooke her voiage towards the sea in all haste.\nIn the meane season Psyches hurled her selfe hither and thither, to\nseeke her husband, the rather because she thought that if he would not\nbe appeased with the sweet flattery of his wife, yet he would take\nmercy on her at her servile and continuall prayers. And (espying a\nChurch on the top of a high hill) she said, What can I tell whether my\nhusband and master be there or no? wherefore she went thitherward, and\nwith great paine and travell, moved by hope, after that she climbed to\nthe top of the mountaine, she came to the temple, and went in, wheras\nbehold she espied sheffes of corn lying on a heap, blades withered with\ngarlands, and reeds of barly, moreover she saw hooks, sithes, sickles,\nand other instruments, to reape, but every thing lay out of order, and\nas it were cast in by the hands of laborers which when Psyches saw she\ngathered up and put everything in order, thinking that she would not\ndespise or contemne the temples of any of the Gods, but rather get the\nfavour and benevolence of them all: by and by Ceres came in, and\nbeholding her busie and curious in her chapell, cried out a far off,\nand said, O Psyches needfull of mercy, Venus searcheth for thee in\nevery place to revenge her selfe and to punish thee grievously, but\nthou hast more mind to be heere, and carest for nothing lesse, then for\nthy safety. Then Psyches fell on her knees before her, watring her feet\nwith her teares, wiping the ground with her haire, and with great\nweeping and lamentation desired pardon, saying, O great and holy\nGoddesse, I pray thee by thy plenteous and liberall right hand, by the\njoyfull ceremonies of thy harvest, by the secrets of thy Sacrifice, by\nthe flying chariots of thy dragons, by the tillage of the ground of\nSicilie, which thou hast invented, by the marriage of Proserpin, by the\ndiligent inquisition of thy daughter, and by the other secrets which\nare within the temple of Eleusis in the land of Athens, take pitty on\nme thy servant Psyches, and let me hide my selfe a few dayes amongst\nthese sheffes of corne, untill the ire of so great a Goddesse be past,\nor until that I be refreshed of my great labour and travell. Then\nanswered Ceres, Verely Psyches, I am greatly moved by thy prayers and\nteares, and desire with all my heart to aide thee, but if I should\nsuffer thee to be hidden here, I should increase the displeasure of my\nCosin, with whom I have made a treatie of peace, and an ancient promise\nof amity: wherefore I advise thee to depart hence and take it not in\nevil part in that I will not suffer thee to abide and remaine here\nwithin my temple. Then Psyches driven away contrary to her hope, was\ndouble afflicted with sorrow and so she returned back againe. And\nbehold she perceived a far off in a vally a Temple standing within a\nForest, faire and curiously wrought, and minding to over-passe no place\nwhither better hope did direct her, and to the intent she would desire\npardon of every God, she approached nigh unto the sacred doore, whereas\nshe saw pretious riches and vestiments ingraven with letters of gold,\nhanging upon branches of trees, and the posts of the temple testifying\nthe name of the goddesse Juno, to whom they were dedicate, then she\nkneeled downe upon her knees, and imbraced the Alter with her hands,\nand wiping her teares, gan pray in this sort: O deere spouse and sister\nof the great God Jupiter which art adored and worshipped amongst the\ngreat temples of Samos, called upon by women with child, worshipped at\nhigh Carthage, because thou wast brought from heaven by the lyon, the\nrivers of the floud Inachus do celebrate thee: and know that thou art\nthe wife of the great god, and the goddesse of goddesses; all the east\npart of the world have thee in veneration, all the world calleth thee\nLucina: I pray thee to be my advocate in my tribulations, deliver me\nfrom the great danger which pursueth me, and save me that am weary with\nso long labours and sorrow, for I know that it is thou that succorest\nand helpest such women as are with child and in danger. Then Juno\nhearing the prayers of Psyches, appeared unto her in all her royalty,\nsaying, Certes Psyches I would gladly help thee, but I am ashamed to do\nany thing contrary to the will of my daughter in law Venus, whom\nalwaies I have loved as mine owne child, moreover I shall incurre the\ndanger of the law, intituled, De servo corrupto, whereby am forbidden\nto retaine any servant fugitive, against the will of his Master. Then\nPsyches cast off likewise by Juno, as without all hope of the recovery\nof her husband, reasoned with her selfe in this sort: Now what comfort\nor remedy is left to my afflictions, when as my prayers will nothing\navaile with the goddesses? what shall I do? whither shall I go? In what\ncave or darknesse shall I hide my selfe, to avoid the furor of Venus?\nWhy do I not take a good heart, and offer my selfe with humilitie unto\nher, whose anger I have wrought? What do I know whether he (whom I\nseeke for) be in his mothers house or no? Thus being in doubt, poore\nPsyches prepared her selfe to her owne danger, and devised how she\nmight make her orison and prayer unto Venus. After that Venus was weary\nwith searching by Sea and Land for Psyches, shee returned toward\nheaven, and commanded that one should prepare her Chariot, which her\nhusband Vulcanus gave unto her by reason of marriage, so finely wrought\nthat neither gold nor silver could be compared to the brightnesse\ntherof. Four white pigeons guided the chariot with great diligence, and\nwhen Venus was entred in a number of sparrowes flew chirping about,\nmaking signe of joy, and all other kind of birds sang sweetly,\nforeshewing the comming of the great goddesse: the clouds gave place,\nthe heavens opened, and received her joyfully, the birds that followed\nnothing feared the Eagle, Hawkes, or other ravenous foules of the aire.\nIncontinently she went unto the royall Pallace of God Jupiter, and with\na proud and bold petition demanded the service of Mercury, in certaine\nof her affaires, whereunto Jupiter consented: then with much joy shee\ndescended from Heaven with Mercury, and gave him an earnest charge to\nput in execution her words, saying: O my Brother, borne in Arcadia,\nthou knowest well, that I (who am thy sister) did never enterprise to\ndoe any thing without thy presence, thou knowest also how long I have\nsought for a girle and cannot finde her, wherefore there resteth\nnothing else save that thou with thy trumpet doe pronounce the reward\nto such as take her: see thou put in execution my commandment, and\ndeclare that whatsoever he be that retaineth her wittingly, against my\nwill shall not defend himselfe by any meane or excusation: which when\nshe had spoken, she delivered unto him a libell, wherein was contained\nthe name of Psyches, and the residue of his publication, which done,\nshe departed away to her lodging. By and by, Mercurius (not delaying\nthe matter) proclaimed throughout all the world, that whatsoever hee\nwere that could tell any tydings of a Kings fugitive Daughter, the\nservant of Venus, named Psyches, should bring word to Mercury, and for\nreward of his paines, he should receive seaven sweet kisses of Venus.\nAfter that Mercury had pronounced these things, every man was enflamed\nwith desire to search out Psyches.\n\nThis proclamation was the cause that put all doubt from Psyches, who\nwas scantly come in the sight of the house of Venus, but one of her\nservants called Custome came out, who espying Psyches, cried with a\nloud voyce, saying: O wicked harlot as thou art, now at length thou\nshalt know that thou hast a mistresse above thee. What, dost thou make\nthy selfe ignorant, as though thou didst not understand what travell\nwee have taken in searching for thee? I am glad that thou art come into\nmy hands, thou art now in the golfe of hell, and shalt abide the paine\nand punishment of thy great contumacy, and therewithall she tooke her\nby the haire, and brought her in, before the presence of the goddesse\nVenus. When Venus spied her, shee began to laugh, and as angry persons\naccustome to doe, she shaked her head, and scratched her right eare\nsaying, O goddesse, goddesse, you are now come at length to visit your\nhusband that is in danger of death, by your meanes: bee you assured, I\nwill handle you like a daughter: where be my maidens, Sorrow and\nSadnesse? To whom (when they came) she delivered Psyches to be cruelly\ntormented; then they fulfilled the commandement of their Mistresse, and\nafter they had piteously scourged her with rods and whips, they\npresented her againe before Venus; then she began to laugh againe,\nsaying: Behold she thinketh (that by reason of her great belly, which\nshe hath gotten by playing the whore) to move me to pitty, and to make\nme a grandmother to her childe. Am not I happy, that in the flourishing\ntime of al mine age, shall be called a grandmother, and the sonne of a\nvile harlot shall bee accounted the nephew of Venus: howbeit I am a\nfoole to tearm him by the name of my son, since as the marriage was\nmade betweene unequall persons, in the field without witnesses, and not\nby the consent of parents, wherefore the marriage is illegitimate, and\nthe childe (that shall be borne) a bastard; if we fortune to suffer\nthee to live so long till thou be delivered. When Venus had spoken\nthese words she leaped upon the face of poore Psyches, and (tearing her\napparell) tooke her by the haire, and dashed her head upon the ground.\nThen she tooke a great quantity of wheat, of barly, poppy seede,\npeason, lintles, and beanes, and mingled them altogether on a heape\nsaying: Thou evil favoured girle, thou seemest unable to get the grace\nof thy lover, by no other meanes, but only by diligent and painefull\nservice, wherefore I will prove what thou canst doe: see that thou\nseparate all these graines one from another, disposing them orderly in\ntheir quantity, and let it be done before night. When she had appointed\nthis taske unto Psyches, she departed to a great banket that was\nprepared that day. But Psyches went not about to dissever the graine,\n(as being a thing impossible to be brought to passe by reason it lay so\nconfusedly scattered) but being astonyed at the cruell commandement of\nVenus, sate still and said nothing. Then the little pismire the emote,\ntaking pitty of her great difficulty and labour, cursing the\ncruellnesse of the daughter of Jupiter, and of so evill a mother, ran\nabout, hither and thither, and called to all her friends, Yee quick\nsons of the ground, the mother of all things, take mercy on this poore\nmaid, espouse to Cupid, who is in great danger of her person, I pray\nyou helpe her with all diligence. Incontinently one came after another,\ndissevering and dividing the graine, and after that they had put each\nkinde of corne in order, they ranne away againe in all haste. When\nnight came, Venus returned home from the banket wel tippled with wine,\nsmelling of balme, and crowned with garlands of roses, who when shee\nhad espied what Psyches had done, gan say, This is not the labour of\nthy hands, but rather of his that is amorous of thee: then she gave her\na morsel of brown bread, and went to sleep. In the mean season, Cupid\nwas closed fast in the surest chamber of the house, partly because he\nshould not hurt himself with wanton dalliance, and partly because he\nshould not speake with his love: so these two lovers were divided one\nfrom another. When night was passed Venus called Psyches, and said,\nSeest thou yonder Forest that extendeth out in length with the river?\nthere be great sheepe shining like gold, and kept by no manner of\nperson. I command thee that thou go thither and bring me home some of\nthe wooll of their fleeces. Psyches arose willingly not to do her\ncommandement, but to throw her selfe headlong into water to end her\nsorrows. Then a green reed inspired by divine inspiration, with a\ngratious tune and melody gan say, O Psyches I pray thee not to trouble\nor pollute my water by the death of thee, and yet beware that thou goe\nnot towards the terrible sheepe of this coast, untill such time as the\nheat of the sunne be past, for when the sunne is in his force, then\nseeme they most dreadfull and furious, with their sharpe hornes, their\nstony foreheads and their gaping throats, wherewith they arme\nthemselves to the destruction of mankinde. But untill they have\nrefreshed themselves in the river, thou must hide thy selfe here by me,\nunder this great plaine tree, and as soone as their great fury is past,\nthou maist goe among the thickets and bushes under the wood side and\ngather the lockes their golden Fleeces, which thou shalt finde hanging\nupon the briers. Then spake the gentle and benigne reed, shewing a mean\nto Psyches to save her life, which she bore well in memory, and with\nall diligence went and gathered up such lockes as shee found, and put\nthem in her apron, and carried them home to Venus. Howbeit the danger\nof this second labour did not please her, nor give her sufficient\nwitnesse of the good service of Psyches, but with a sower resemblance\nof laughter, did say: Of a certaine I know that this is not thy fact,\nbut I will prove if that thou bee of so stout, so good a courage, and\nsingular prudency as thou seemest to bee. Then Venus spake unto Psyches\nagaine saying: Seest thou the toppe of yonder great Hill, from whence\nthere runneth downe waters of blacke and deadly colour, which\nnourisheth the floods of Stix, Cocytus? I charge thee to goe thither,\nand bring me a vessell of that water: wherewithall she gave her a\nbottle of Christall, menacing and threatening her rigorously. Then poor\nPsyches went in all haste to the top of the mountaine, rather to end\nher life, then to fetch any water, and when she was come up to the\nridge of the hill, she perceived that it was impossible to bring it to\npasse: for she saw a great rocke gushing out most horrible fountaines\nof waters, which ran downe and fell by many stops and passages into the\nvalley beneath: on each side shee did see great Dragons, which were\nstretching out their long and bloody Neckes, that did never sleepe, but\nappointed to keepe the river there: the waters seemed to themselves\nlikewise saying, Away; away, what wilt thou doe? flie, flie, or else\nthou wilt be slaine. Then Psyches (seeing the impossibility of this\naffaire) stood still as though she were transformed into a stone and\nalthough she was present in body, yet was she absent in spirit and\nsense, by reason of the great perill which she saw, insomuch that she\ncould not comfort her self with weeping, such was the present danger\nthat she was in. But the royall bird of great Jupiter, the Eagle\nremembring his old service which he had done, when as by the pricke of\nCupid he brought up the boy Ganimedes, to the heavens, to be made\nbutler of Jupiter, and minding to shew the like service in the person\nof the wife of Cupid, came from the high-house of the Skies, and said\nunto Psyches, O simple woman without all experience, doest thou thinke\nto get or dip up any drop of this dreadfull water? No, no, assure thy\nselfe thou art never able to come nigh it, for the Gods themselves do\ngreatly feare at the sight thereof. What, have you not heard, that it\nis a custome among men to sweare by the puissance of the Gods, and the\nGods do sweare by the majesty of the river Stix? but give me thy\nbottle, and sodainly he tooke it, and filled it with the water of the\nriver, and taking his flight through those cruell and horrible dragons,\nbrought it unto Psyches: who being very joyfull thereof, presented it\nto Venus, who would not yet be appeased, but menacing more and more\nsaid, What, thou seemest unto me a very witch and enchauntresse, that\nbringest these things to passe, howbeit thou shalt do nothing more.\nTake this box and to Hell to Proserpina, and desire her to send me a\nlittle of her beauty, as much as will serve me the space of one day,\nand say that such as I had is consumed away since my sonne fell sicke,\nbut returne againe quickly, for I must dresse my selfe therewithall,\nand goe to the Theatre of the Gods: then poore Psyches perceived the\nend of all fortune, thinking verely that she should never returne, and\nnot without cause, when as she was compelled to go to the gulfe and\nfuries of hell. Wherefore without any further delay, she went up to an\nhigh tower to throw her selfe downe headlong (thinking that it was the\nnext and readiest way to hell) but the tower (as inspired) spake unto\nher saying, O poore miser, why goest thou about to slay thy selfe? Why\ndost thou rashly yeeld unto thy last perill and danger? know thou that\nif thy spirit be once separated from thy body, thou shalt surely go to\nhell, but never to returne againe, wherefore harken to me; Lacedemon a\nCitie in Greece is not farre hence: go thou thither and enquire for the\nhill Tenarus, whereas thou shalt find a hold leading to hell, even to\nthe Pallace of Pluto, but take heede thou go not with emptie hands to\nthat place of darknesse: but Carrie two sops sodden in the flour of\nbarley and Honney in thy hands, and two halfepence in thy mouth. And\nwhen thou hast passed a good part of that way, thou shalt see a lame\nAsse carrying of wood, and a lame fellow driving him, who will desire\nthee to give him up the sticks that fall downe, but passe thou on and\ndo nothing; by and by thou shalt come unto a river of hell, whereas\nCharon is ferriman, who will first have his fare paied him, before he\nwill carry the soules over the river in his boat, whereby you may see\nthat avarice raigneth amongst the dead, neither Charon nor Pluto will\ndo any thing for nought: for if it be a poore man that would passe over\nand lacketh money, he shal be compelled to die in his journey before\nthey will shew him any reliefe, wherefore deliver to carraine Charon\none of the halfpence (which thou bearest for thy passage) and let him\nreceive it out of thy mouth. And it shall come to passe as thou sittest\nin the boat thou shalt see an old man swimming on the top of the river,\nholding up his deadly hands, and desiring thee to receive him into the\nbarke, but have no regard to his piteous cry; when thou art passed over\nthe floud, thou shalt espie old women spinning, who will desire thee to\nhelpe them, but beware thou do not consent unto them in any case, for\nthese and like baits and traps will Venus set to make thee let fall one\nof thy sops, and thinke not that the keeping of thy sops is a light\nmatter, for if thou leese one of them thou shalt be assured never to\nreturne againe to this world. Then shalt thou see a great and\nmarvailous dogge, with three heads, barking continually at the soules\nof such as enter in, but he can do them no other harme, he lieth day\nand night before the gate of Proserpina, and keepeth the house of Pluto\nwith great diligence, to whom if thou cast one of thy sops, thou maist\nhave accesse to Proserpina without all danger: shee will make thee good\ncheere, and entertaine thee with delicate meate and drinke, but sit\nthou upon the ground, and desire browne bread, and then declare thy\nmessage unto her, and when thou hast received such beauty as she\ngiveth, in thy returne appease the rage of the dogge with thy other\nsop, and give thy other halfe penny to covetous Charon, and come the\nsame way againe into the world as thou wentest: but above all things\nhave a regard that thou looke not in the boxe, neither be not too\ncurious about the treasure of the divine beauty. In this manner the\ntower spake unto Psyches, and advertised her what she should do: and\nimmediately she tooke two halfe pence, two sops, and all things\nnecessary, and went to the mountaine Tenarus to go towards hell. After\nthat Psyches had passed by the lame Asse, paid her halfe pennie for\npassage, neglected the old man in the river, denyed to helpe the woman\nspinning, and filled the ravenous month of the dogge with a sop, shee\ncame to the chamber of Proserpina. There Psyches would not sit in any\nroyall seate, nor eate any delicate meates, but kneeled at the feete of\nProserpina, onely contented with course bread, declared her message,\nand after she had received a mysticall secret in a boxe, she departed,\nand stopped the mouth of the dogge with the other sop, and paied the\nboatman the other halfe penny. When Psyches was returned from hell, to\nthe light of the world, shee was ravished with great desire, saying, Am\nnot I a foole, that knowing that I carrie here the divine beauty, will\nnot take a little thereof to garnish my face, to please my love\nwithall? And by and by shee opened the boxe where she could perceive no\nbeauty nor any thing else, save onely an infernall and deadly sleepe,\nwhich immediatly invaded all her members as soone as the boxe was\nuncovered, in such sort that she fell downe upon the ground, and lay\nthere as a sleeping corps.\n\nBut Cupid being now healed of his wound and Maladie, not able to endure\nthe absence of Psyches, got him secretly out at a window of the chamber\nwhere hee was enclosed, and (receiving his wings,) tooke his flight\ntowards his loving wife, whom when he had found, hee wiped away the\nsleepe from her face, and put it againe into the boxe, and awaked her\nwith the tip of one of his arrows, saying: O wretched Caitife, behold\nthou wert well-nigh perished againe, with the overmuch curiositie:\nwell, goe thou, and do thy message to my Mother, and in the meane\nseason, I will provide for all things accordingly: wherewithall he\ntooke his flight into the aire, and Psyches brought her present to\nVenus.\n\nCupid being more and more in love with Psyches, and fearing the\ndispleasure of his Mother, did pearce into the heavens, and arrived\nbefore Jupiter to declare his cause: then Jupiter after that hee had\neftsoone embraced him, gan say in this manner: O my well beloved sonne,\nalthough thou haste not given due reverence and honour unto me as thou\noughtest to doe, but haste rather spoiled and wounded this my brest\n(whereby the laws and order of the Elements and Planets be disposed)\nwith continuall assaults, of Terren luxury and against all laws, and\nthe discipline Julia, and the utility of the publike weale, in\ntransforming my divine beauty into serpents, fire, savage beasts,\nbirds, and into Bulles: howbeit remembring my modesty, and that I have\nnourished thee with mine owne proper hands, I will doe and accomplish\nall thy desire, so that thou canst beware of spitefull and envious\npersons. And if there be any excellent Maiden of comely beauty in the\nworld, remember yet the benefit which I shall shew unto thee by\nrecompence of her love towards me againe. When he had spoken these\nwords he commanded Mercury to call all the gods to counsell, and if any\nof the celestiall powers did faile of appearance he would be condemned\nin ten thousand pounds: which sentence was such a terrour to all the\ngoddesses, that the high Theatre was replenished, and Jupiter began to\nspeake in this sort: O yee gods, registred in the bookes of the Muses,\nyou all know this young man Cupid whom I have nourished with mine owne\nhands, whose raging flames of his first youth, I thought best to bridle\nand restraine. It sufficeth that hee is defamed in every place for his\nadulterous living, wherefore all occasion ought to bee taken away by\nmeane of marriage: he hath chosen a Maiden that fancieth him well, and\nhath bereaved her of her virginity, let him have her still, and\npossesse her according to his owne pleasure: then he returned to Venus,\nand said, And you my daughter, take you no care, neither feare the\ndishonour of your progeny and estate, neither have regard in that it is\na mortall marriage, for it seemeth unto me just, lawfull, and\nlegitimate by the law civill. Incontinently after Jupiter commanded\nMercury to bring up Psyches, the spouse of Cupid, into the Pallace of\nheaven. And then he tooke a pot of immortality, and said, Hold Psyches,\nand drinke, to the end thou maist be immortall, and that Cupid may be\nthine everlasting husband. By and by the great banket and marriage\nfeast was sumptuously prepared, Cupid sate downe with his deare spouse\nbetween his armes: Juno likewise with Jupiter, and all the other gods\nin order, Ganimedes filled the pot of Jupiter, and Bacchus served the\nrest. Their drinke was Nectar the wine of the gods, Vulcanus prepared\nsupper, the howers decked up the house with roses and other sweet\nsmells, the graces threw about blame, the Muses sang with sweet\nharmony, Apollo tuned pleasantly to the Harpe, Venus danced finely:\nSatirus and Paniscus plaid on their pipes; and thus Psyches was married\nto Cupid, and after she was delivered of a child whom we call Pleasure.\nThis the trifling old woman declared unto the captive maiden: but I\npoore Asse, not standing farre of, was not a little sorry in that I\nlacked pen and inke to write so worthy a tale.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIXTH BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-THIRD CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius carried away the Gentlewoman, and how they were taken\nagaine by the theeves, and what a kind of death was invented for them.\n\n\nBy and by the theeves came home laden with treasure, and many of them\nwhich were of strongest courage (leaving behind such as were lame and\nwounded, to heale and aire themselves) said they would returne backe\nagaine to fetch the rest of their pillage, which they had hidden in a\ncertaine cave, and so they snatched up their dinner greedily, and\nbrought us forth into the way and beate us before them with staves.\nAbout night (after that we had passed over many hilles and dales) we\ncame to a great cave, where they laded us with mighty burthens, and\nwould not suffer us to refresh our selves any season but brought us\nagaine in our way, and hied so fast homeward, that what with their\nhaste and their cruell stripes, I fell downe upon a stone by the way\nside, then they beate me pittifully in lifting me up, and hurt my right\nthigh and my left hoofe, and one of them said, What shall we do with\nthis lame Ill favoured Asse, that is not worth the meate he eats? And\nother said, Since the time that we had him first he never did any good,\nand I thinke he came unto our house with evill lucke, for we have had\ngreat wounds since, and losse of our valiant captaines, and other said,\nAs soone as he hath brought home his burthen, I will surely throw him\nout upon the mountaine to be a pray for wild beasts: While these\ngentlemen reasoned together of my death, we fortuned to come home, for\nthe feare that I was in, caused my feet to turne into wings: after that\nwe were discharged of our burthens, they went to their fellowes that\nwere wounded, and told them of our great tardity and slownesse by the\nway, neither was I brought into small anguish, when I perceived my\ndeath prepared before my face: Why standest thou still Lucius? Why dost\nthou not looke for thy death? Knowst thou not that the theeves have\nordained to slay thee? seest thou not these sharpe and pointed flints\nwhich shall bruise and teare thee in peeces, if by adventure thou\nhappen upon them? Thy gentle Magitian hath not onely given thee the\nshape and travell of an Asse, but also a skinne so soft and tender as\nit were a swallow: why dost thou not take courage and runne away to\nsave thy selfe? Art thou afraid of the old woman more then halfe dead,\nwhom with a stripe of thy heele thou maist easily dispatch? But whither\nshall I fly? What lodging shall I seek? See my Assy cogitation. Who is\nhe that passeth by the way and will not take me up? While I devised\nthese things, I brake the halter wherewith I was tyed and ran away with\nall my force, howbeit I could not escape the kitish eyes of the old\nwoman, for shee ran after me, and with more audacity then becommeth her\nkind age, caught me by the halter and thought to pull me home: but I\nnot forgetting the cruell purpose of the theeves, was mooved with small\npity, for I kicked her with my hinder heeles to the ground and had\nwelnigh slaine her, who (although shee was throwne and hurled downe)\nyet shee held still the halter, and would not let me goe; then shee\ncryed with a loud voyce and called for succour, but she little\nprevayled, because there was no person that heard her, save onely the\ncaptive gentlewoman, who hearing the voice of the old woman, came out\nto see what the matter was, and perceiving her hanging at the halter,\ntooke a good courage and wrested it out of her hand, and (entreating me\nwith gentle words) got upon my backe. Then I began to runne, and shee\ngently kicked mee forward, whereof I was nothing displeased, for I had\nas great a desire to escape as shee: insomuch that I seemed to scowre\naway like a horse. And when the Gentlewoman did speake, I would answere\nher with my neighing, and oftentimes (under colour to rub my backe) I\nwould sweetly kisse her tender feet. Then shee fetching a sigh from the\nbottome of her heart, lifted up her eyes to the heavens, saying: O\nsoveraigne Gods, deliver mee if it be your pleasure, from these present\ndangers: and thou cruell fortune cease thy wrath, let the sorrow\nsuffice thee which I have already sustained. And thou little Asse, that\nart the occasion of my safety and liberty, if thou canst once render me\nsafe and sound to my parents, and to him that so greatly desireth to\nhave me to his wife, thou shalt see what thankes I will give: with what\nhonour I will reward thee, and how I will use thee. First, I will\nbravely dresse the haires of thy forehead, and then will I finely combe\nthy maine, I will tye up thy rugged tayle trimly, I will decke thee\nround about with golden trappes, in such sort that thou shalt glitter\nlike the starres of the skie, I will bring thee daily in my apron the\nkirnels of nuts, and will pamper thee up with delicates; I will set\nstore by thee, as by one that is the preserver of my life: Finally,\nthou shalt lack no manner of thing. Moreover amongst thy glorious fare,\nthy great ease, and the blisse of thy life, thou shalt not be destitute\nof dignity, for thou shalt be chronicled perpetually in memory of my\npresent fortune, and the providence divine. All the whole history shall\nbe painted upon the wall of our house, thou shalt be renowned\nthroughout all the world. And it shall be registred in the bookes of\nDoctours, that an Asse saved the life of a young maiden that was\ncaptive amongst Theeves: Thou shalt be numbred amongst the ancient\nmiracles: wee beleeve that by like example of truth Phryxus saved\nhimselfe from drowning upon the Ram, Arion escaped upon a Dolphin, and\nthat Europa was delivered by the Bull. If Jupiter transformed himselfe\ninto a Bull, why may it not be that under the shape of this Asse, is\nhidden the figure of a man, or some power divine? While that the Virgin\ndid thus sorrowfully unfold her desires, we fortuned to come to a place\nwhere three wayes did meet, and shee tooke me by the halter, and would\nhave me to turne on the right hand to her fathers house: but I (knowing\nthat the theeves were gone that way to fetch the residue of their\npillage) resisted with my head as much as I might, saying within my\nselfe: What wilt thou doe unhappy maiden? Why wouldst thou goe so\nwillingly to hell? Why wilt thou runne into destruction by meane of my\nfeet? Why dost thou seek thine own harme, and mine likewise? And while\nwe strived together whether way we might take, the theeves returned,\nlaiden with their pray, and perceived us a farre off by the light of\nthe Moon: and after they had known us, one of them gan say, Whither goe\nyou so hastely? Be you not afraid of spirits? And you (you harlot) doe\nyou not goe to see your parents? Come on, we will beare you company?\nAnd therewithall they tooke me by the hatter, and drave me backe\nagaine, beating me cruelly with a great staffe (that they had) full of\nknobs: then I returning againe to my ready destruction, and remembering\nthe griefe of my hoofe, began to shake my head, and to waxe lame, but\nhe that led me by the halter said, What, dost thou stumble? Canst thou\nnot goe? These rotten feet of thine ran well enough, but they cannot\nwalke: thou couldest mince it finely even now with the gentlewoman,\nthat thou seemedst to passe the horse Pegasus in swiftnesse. In saying\nof these words they beat mee againe, that they broke a great staffe\nupon mee. And when we were come almost home, we saw the old woman\nhanging upon a bow of a Cipresse tree; then one of them cut downe the\nbowe whereon shee hanged, and cast her into the bottome of a great\nditch: after this they bound the maiden and fell greedily to their\nvictuals, which the miserable old woman had prepared for them. At which\ntime they began to devise with themselves of our death, and how they\nmight be revenged; divers was the opinions of this divers number: the\nfirst said, that hee thought best the Mayd should be burned alive: the\nsecond said she should be throwne out to wild beasts: the third said,\nshe should be hanged upon a gibbet: the fourth said she should be flead\nalive: thus was the death of the poore Maiden scanned betweene them\nfoure. But one of the theeves after every man had declared his\njudgement, did speake in this manner: it is not convenient unto the\noath of our company, to suffer you to waxe more cruell then the quality\nof the offence doth merit, for I would that shee should not be hanged\nnor burned, nor throwne to beasts, nor dye any sodaine death, but by my\ncouncil I would have her punished according to her desert. You know\nwell what you have determined already of this dull Asse, that eateth\nmore then he is worth, that faineth lamenesse, and that was the cause\nof the flying away of the Maid: my mind is that he shall be slaine to\nmorrow, and when all the guts and entrailes of his body is taken out,\nlet the Maide be sowne into his belly, then let us lay them upon a\ngreat stone against the broiling heate of the Sunne, so they shall both\nsustaine all the punishments which you have ordained: for first the\nAsse shall be slaine as you have determined, and she shall have her\nmembers torne and gnawn with wild beasts, when as she is bitten and\nrent with wormes, shee shall endure the paine of the fire, when as the\nbroyling heat of the Sunne shall scortch and parch the belly of the\nAsse, shee shall abide the gallows when the Dogs and Vultures shall\nhave the guts of her body hanging in their ravenous mouthes. I pray you\nnumber all the torments which she shall suffer: First shee shall dwell\nwithin the paunch of an Asse: secondly her nosethrilles shall receive a\ncarraine stinke of the beast: thirdly shee shall dye for hunger: last\nof all, shee shall finde no meane to ridde her selfe from her paines,\nfor her hand shalt be sowen up within the skinne of the Asse: This\nbeing said, all the Theeves consented, and when I (poore Asse) heard\nand understood all their device, I did nothing else but lament and\nbewayle my dead carkasse, which should be handled in such sort on the\nnext morrow.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEVENTH BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow hee that was left behinde at Hippata did bring newes concerning the\nrobbery of Miloes house, came home and declared to his Company, that\nall the fault was laid to one Apuleius his charge.\n\n\nA soone as night was past, and the cleare Chariot of the Sunne had\nspred his bright beames on every coast, came one of the company of the\ntheeves, (for so his and their greeting together did declare) who at\nthe first entry into the Cave (after hee had breathed himselfe, and was\nable to speake) told these tydings unto his companions in this sort.\nSirs, as touching the house of Milo of Hippata, which we forcibly\nentred and ransackt the last day, we may put away all feare and doubt\nnothing at all. For after that ye by force of armes, had spoyled and\ntaken away all things in the house, and returned hither into our Cave;\nI (thrusting my selfe amongst the presse of the people, and shewing my\nselfe as though I were sad and sorrowful for the mischance) consulted\nwith them for the boulting out of the matter, and devising what meanes\nmight be wrought for the apprehension of the theeves, to the intent I\nmight learne and see all that was done to make relation thereof unto\nyou as you willed me, insomuch that the whole fact at length by\nmanifest and evident proofes as also by the common opinion and\njudgement of the people, was laid to one Lucius Apuleius charge as\nmanifest author of this common robbery, who a few dayse before by false\nand forged letters and colored honesty, fell so farre in favour with\nthis Milo, that he entertained him into his house, and received him as\na chiefe of his familiar friends, which Lucius after that he had\nsojourned there a good space, and won the heart of Miloes Maid, by\nfained love, did thoroughly learne the waies and doores of all the\nhouse, and curiously viewed the cofers and chests, wherein was laid the\nwhole substance of Milo: neither was there small cause given to judge\nhim culpable, since as the very same night that this robbery was done\nhe fled away, and could not be found in no place: and to the intent hee\nmight cleane escape, and better prevent such as made hew and crie after\nhim, he tooke his white horse and galloped away, and after this, his\nservant was found in the house, who (accused as accessary to the\nfellony and escape of his Master) was committed to the common gaole,\nand the next day following was cruelly scourged and tormented till hee\nwas welnigh dead, to the intent hee should confesse the matter, but\nwhen they could wreast or learne no such thing of him, yet sent they\nmany persons after, towardes Lucius Countrey to enquire him out, and so\nto take him prisoner. As he declared these things, I did greatly lament\nwith my selfe, to thinke of mine old and pristine estate, and what\nfelicity I was sometimes in, in comparison to the misery that I\npresently susteined, being changed into a miserable Asse, then had I no\nsmall occasion to remember, how the old and ancient Writers did\naffirme, that fortune was starke blind without eies, because she\nalwaies bestoweth her riches upon evil persons, and fooles, and\nchooseth or favoureth no mortall person by judgement, but is alwaies\nconversent, especially with much as if she could see, she should most\nshunne, and forsake, yea and that which is more worse, she sheweth such\nevill or contrary opinions in men, that the wicked doe glory with the\nname of good, and contrary the good and innocent be detracted and\nslandred as evill. Furthermore I, who by her great cruelty, was turned\ninto a foure footed Asse, in most vile and abject manner: yea, and\nwhose estate seemed worthily to be lamented and pittied of the most\nhard and stonie hearts, was accused of theft and robbing of my deare\nhost Milo, which villany might rather be called parricide then theft,\nyet might not I defend mine owne cause or denie the fact any way, by\nreason I could not speake; howbeit least my conscience should seeme to\naccuse me by reason of silence, and againe being enforced by impatience\nI endevored to speake, and faine would have said, Never did I that\nfact, and verely the first word, never, I cried out once or twise,\nsomewhat handsome, but the residue I could in no wise pronounce, but\nstill remaining in one voice, cried, Never, never, never, howbeit I\nsettled my hanging lips as round as I could to speake the residue: but\nwhy should I further complaine of the crueltie of my fortune, since as\nI was not much ashamed, by reason that my servant and my horse, was\nlikewise accused with me of the robbery.\n\nWhile I pondered with my selfe all these things, a great care [came] to\nmy remembrance, touching the death, which the theeves provised for me\nand the maiden, and still as I looked downe to my belly, I thought of\nmy poore gentlewoman that should be closed within me. And the theefe\nwhich a little before had brought the false newes against me, drew out\nof the skirt of his coate, a thousand crowns, which he had rifled from\nsuch as hee met, and brought it into the common treasury. Then hee\ncarefully enquired how the residue of his companions did. To whom it\nwas declared that the most valiant was murdred and slaine in divers\nmanners, whereupon he perswaded them to remit all their affaires a\ncertaine season, and to seeke for other fellowes to be in their places,\nthat by the exercise of new lads, the terror of their martiall band\nmight be reduced to the old number, assuring them that such as were\nunwilling, might be compelled by menaces and threatnings, and such as\nwere willing might be incouraged forward with reward. Further he said,\nthat there were some, which (seeing the profite which they had) would\nforsake their base and servile estate, and rather bee contented to live\nlike tyrants amongst them. Moreover he declared, that for his part he\nhad spoken with a certaine tall man, a valiant companion, but of young\nage, stout in body, and couragious in fight, whom he had fully\nperswaded to exercise his idle hands, dull with slothfullnesse, to his\ngreater profit, and (while he might) to receive the blisse of better\nFortune, and not to hold out his sturdy arme to begge for a penny, but\nrather to take as much gold and silver as hee would. Then everyone\nconsented, that hee that seemed so worthy to be their companion, should\nbe one of their company, and that they would search for others to make\nup the residue of the number, whereupon he went out, and by and by\n(returning againe) brought in a tall young man (as he promised) to whom\nnone of the residue might bee compared, for hee was higher then they by\nthe head, and of more bignesse in body, his beard began to burgen, but\nhee was poorely apparelled, insomuch that you might see all his belly\nnaked. As soone as he was entred in he said, God speed yee souldiers of\nMars and my faithfull companions, I pray you make me one of your band,\nand I will ensure you, that you shall have a man of singular courage\nand lively audacity: for I had rather receive stripes upon my backe,\nthen money or gold in my hands. And as for death (which every man doth\nfeare) I passe nothing at all, yet thinke you not that I am an abject\nor a begger, neither judge you my vertue and prowesse by ragged\nclothes, for I have beene a Captaine of a great company, and subdued\nall the countrey of Macedonia. I am the renowned theefe Hemes the\nThracian, whose name all countreys and nations do so greatly feare: I\nam the sonne of Theron the noble theefe, nourished with humane bloud,\nentertained amongst the stoutest; finally I am inheritour and follower\nof all my fathers vertues, yet I lost in a short time all my company\nand all my riches, by one assault, which I made upon a Factor of the\nPrince, which sometime had beene Captaine of two hundred men, for\nfortune was cleane against me; harken and I will tell you the whole\nmatter. There was a certaine man in the court of the Emperour, which\nhad many offices, and in great favour, who at last by the envy of\ndivers persons, was banished away and compelled to forsake the court:\nhis wife Platina, a woman of rare faith and singular shamefastnes\nhaving borne ten children to her husband, despised all worldly Pompe\nand delicacy, and determined to follow her husband, and to be partaker\nof his perils and danger, wherefore shee cut off her haire, disguised\nher selfe like a man, and tooke with her all her treasure, passing\nthrough the hands of the souldiers, and the naked swords without any\nfeare, whereby she endured many miseries, and was partaker of much\naffliction, to save the life of her husband, such was her love which\nshe bare unto him. And when they had escaped many perillous dangers, as\nwell by land as by sea, they went together towards Zacynthe, to\ncontinue there according as fortune had appointed. But when they were\narived on the sea coast of Actium (where we in our returne from\nMacedony were roving about) when night came, they returned into a house\nnot far distant from their ship, where they lay all night. Then we\nentred in and tooke away all their substance, but verely we were in\ngreat danger: for the good matron perceiving us incontinently by the\nnoise of the gate, went into the chamber, and called up every man by\nhis name, and likewise the neighbors that dwelled round about, insomuch\nthat by reason of the feare that every one was in, we hardly escaped\naway, but this most holy woman, faithfull and true to her husband (as\nthe truth must be declared) returned to Caesar, desiring his aid and\npuissance, and demanding vengeance of the injury done to her husband,\nwho granted all her desire: then went my company to wracke, insomuch\nthat every man was slaine, so great was the authority and word of the\nPrince. Howbeit, when all my band was lost, and taken by search of the\nEmperours army, I onely stole away and delivered my selfe from the\nviolence of the souldiers, for I clothed my selfe in a womans attire,\nand mounted upon an Asse, that carryed barly sheafes, and (passing\nthrough the middle of them all) I escaped away, because every one\ndeemed that I was a woman by reason I lacked a beard. Howbeit I left\nnot off for all this, nor did degenerate from the glory of my father,\nor mine own vertue, but freshly comming from the bloody skirmish, and\ndisguised like a woman, I invaded townes and castles alone to get some\npray. And therewithall he pulled out two thousand crownes, which he had\nunder his coate, saying: Hold here the dowry which I present unto you,\nhold eke my person, which you shall alwayes find trusty and faithfull,\nif you willingly receive me: and I will ensure you that in so doing,\nwithin short space I wilt make and turne this stony house of yours into\ngold. Then by and by every one consented to make him their Captaine,\nand so they gave him better garments, and threw away his old. When they\nhad changed his attire, hee imbraced them one after another, then\nplaced they him in the highest roome of the table, and drunk unto him\nin token of good lucke.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow the death of the Asse, and the Gentlewoman was stayed.\n\n\nAfter supper they began to talke, and declare unto him the going away\nof the Gentlewoman, and how I bare her upon my backe, and what death\nwas ordained for us two. Then he desired to see her, whereupon the\nGentlewoman was brought forth fast bound, whom as soone as he beheld,\nhe turned himselfe wringing his nose, and blamed them saying: I am not\nso much a beast, or so rash a fellow to drive you quite from your\npurpose, but my conscience will not suffer me to conceale any thing\nthat toucheth your profit, since I am as carefull for you, howbeit if\nmy counsell doe displease you, you may at your liberty proceed in your\nenterprise. I doubt not but all theeves, and such as have a good\njudgement, will preferre their owne lucre and gain above all things in\nthe world, and above their vengeance, which purchaseth damage to divers\npersons. Therefore if you put this virgin in the Asses belly, you shall\nbut execute your indignation against her, without all manner of profit;\nBut I would advise you to carry the virgin to some towne and to sell\nher: and such a brave girle as she is, may be sold for a great quantity\nof money. And I my selfe know certaine bawdy Marchants, amongst whom\nperadventure one will give us summes of gold for her. This is my\nopinion touching this affaire: but advise you what you intend to do,\nfor you may rule me in this case. In this manner the good theefe\npleaded and defended our cause, being a good Patron to the silly\nvirgin, and to me poore Asse. But they staied hereupon a good space,\nwith long deliberation, which made my heart (God wot) and spirit\ngreatly to quaile. Howbeit in the end they consented to his opinion,\nand by and by the Maiden was unloosed of her bonds, who seeing the\nyoung man, and hearing the name of brothels and bawdy Merchants, began\nto wax joyfull, and smiled with herself. Then began I to deeme evill of\nthe generation of women, when as I saw the Maiden (who was appointed to\nbe married to a young Gentleman, and who so greatly desired the same)\nwas now delighted with the talke of a wicked brothel house, and other\nthings dishonest. In this sort the consent and manners of women\ndepended in the judgement of an Asse.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow all the Theeves were brought asleepe by their new companion.\n\n\nThen the young man spake againe, saying, Masters, why goe wee not about\nto make our prayers unto Mars, touching this selling of the Maiden, and\nto seeke for other companions. But as farre as I see, here is no other\nmanner of beast to make sacrifice withall, nor wine sufficient for us\nto drinke. Let me have (quoth hee) tenne more with me, and wee will goe\nto the next Castle, to provide for meat and other things necessary. So\nhe and tenne more with him, went their way: In the meane season, the\nresidue made a great fire and an Alter with greene turfes in the honour\nof Mars. By and by after they came againe, bringing with them bottles\nof wine, and a great number of beasts, amongst which there was a big\nRam Goat, fat, old, and hairy, which they killed and offered unto Mars.\nThen supper was prepared sumptuously, and the new companion said unto\nthe other, You ought to accompt me not onely your Captaine in robbery\nand fight, but also in pleasures and jolity, whereupon by and by with\npleasant cheere he prepared meat, and trimming up the house he set all\nthings in order, and brought the pottage and dainty dishes to the\nTable: but above all he plyed them wel with great pots and jugs of\nwine. Sometimes (seeming to fetch somewhat) hee would goe to the Maiden\nand give her pieces of meate, which he privily tooke away, and would\ndrinke unto her, which she willingly tooke in good part. Moreover, hee\nkissed her twice or thrice whereof she was well pleased but I (not well\ncontented thereat) thought in my selfe: O wretched Maid, thou hast\nforgotten thy marriage, and doest esteeme this stranger and bloudy\ntheefe above thy husband which thy Parents ordained for thee, now\nperceive I well thou hast no remorse of conscience, but more delight to\ntarry and play the harlot heere amongst so many swords. What? knowest\nthou not how the other theeves if they knew thy demeanour would put\nthee to death as they had once appointed, and so worke my destruction\nlikewise? Well now I perceive thou hast a pleasure in the dammage and\nhurt of other. While I did angerly devise with my selfe all these\nthings, I perceived by certaine signes and tokens (not ignorant to so\nwise an Asse) that he was not the notable theefe Hemus, but rather\nLepolemus her husband, for after much communication he beganne to\nspeake more franckly, not fearing at all my presence, and said, Be of\ngood cheere my sweete friend Charites, for thou shalt have by and by\nall these thy enemies captive unto thee. Then hee filled wine to the\ntheeves more and more, and never ceased, till as they were all overcome\nwith abundance of meat and drinke, when as hee himselfe abstained and\nbridled his owne appetite. And truely I did greatly suspect, least hee\nhad mingled in their cups some deadly poyson, for incontinently they\nall fell downe asleepe on the ground one after an other, and lay as\nthough they had beene dead.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow the Gentlewoman was carried home by her husband while the theeves\nwere asleepe, and how much Apuleius was made of.\n\n\nWhen the theeves were all asleepe by their great and immoderate\ndrinking, the young man Lepolemus took the Maiden and set her upon my\nbacke, and went homeward. When we were come home, all the people of the\nCitie, especially her Parents, friends, and family, came running forth\njoyfully, and the children and Maidens of the towne gathered together\nto see this virgin in great triumph sitting upon an Asse. Then I\n(willing to shew as much joy as I might, as present occasion served) I\nset and pricked up my long eares, ratled my nosethrils, and cryed\nstoutly, nay rather I made the towne to ring againe with my shrilling\nsound: when wee were come to her fathers house, shee was received in a\nchamber honourably: as for me, Lepolemus (accompanied with a great\nnumber of Citizens) did presently after drive me backe againe with\nother horses to the cave of the theeves, where wee found them all\nasleepe lying on the ground as wee left them; then they first brought\nout all the gold, and silver, and other treasure of the house, and\nladed us withall, which when they had done, they threw many of the\ntheeves downe into the bottome of deepe ditches, and the residue they\nslew with their swords: after this wee returned home glad and merry of\nso great vengeance upon them, and the riches which wee carried was\ncommited to the publike treasurie. This done, the Maid was married to\nLepolemus, according to the law, whom by so much travell he had\nvaliantly recovered: then my good Mistresse looked about for me, and\nasking for me commanded the very same day of her marriage, that my\nmanger should be filled with barly, and that I should have hay and oats\naboundantly, and she would call me her little Camell. But how greatly\ndid I curse Fotis, in that shee transformed me into an Asse, and not\ninto a dogge, because I saw the dogges had filled their paunches with\nthe reliks and bones of so worthy a supper. The next day this new\nwedded woman (my Mistresse) did greatly commend me before her Parents\nand husband, for the kindnesse which I had shewed unto her, and never\nleaved off untill such time as they promised to reward me with great\nhonours. Then they called together all their friends, and thus it was\nconcluded: one said, that I should be closed in a stable and never\nworke, but continually to be fedde and fatted with fine and chosen\nbarly and beanes and good littour, howbeit another prevailed, who\nwishing my liberty, perswaded them that it was better for me to runne\nin the fields amongst the lascivious horses and mares, whereby I might\nengender some mules for my Mistresse: then he that had in charge to\nkeepe the horse, was called for, and I was delivered unto him with\ngreat care, insomuch that I was right pleasant and joyous, because I\nhoped that I should carry no more fardels nor burthens, moreover I\nthought that when I should thus be at liberty, in the spring time of\nthe yeere when the meddows and fields were greene, I should find some\nroses in some place, whereby I was fully perswaded that if my Master\nand Mistresse did render to me so many thanks and honours being an\nAsse, they would much more reward me being turned into a man: but when\nhe (to whom the charge of me was so straightly committed) had brought\nme a good way distant from the City, I perceived no delicate meates nor\nno liberty which I should have, but by and by his covetous wife and\nmost cursed queane made me a mill Asse, and (beating me with a cudgill\nfull of knots) would wring bread for her selfe and her husband out of\nmy skinne. Yet was she not contented to weary me and make me a drudge\nwith carriage and grinding of her owne corne, but I was hired of her\nneighbours to beare their sackes likewise, howbeit shee would not give\nme such meate as I should have, nor sufficient to sustaine my life\nwithall, for the barly which I ground for mine owne dinner she would\nsell to the Inhabitants by. And after that I had laboured all day, she\nwould set before me at night a little filthy branne, nothing cleane but\nfull of stones. Being in this calamity, yet fortune worked me other\ntorments, for on a day I was let loose into the fields to pasture, by\nthe commandement of my master. O how I leaped for joy, how I neighed to\nsee my selfe in such liberty, but especially since I beheld so many\nMares, which I thought should be my wives and concubines; and I espied\nout and chose the fairest before I came nigh them; but this my joyfull\nhope turned into otter destruction, for incontinently all the stone\nHorses which were well fedde and made strong by ease of pasture, and\nthereby much more puissant then a poore Asse, were jealous over me, and\n(having no regard to the law and order of God Jupiter) ranne fiercely\nand terribly against me; one lifted up his forefeete and kicked me\nspitefully, another turned himselfe, and with his hinder heeles spurned\nme cruelly, the third threatning with a malicious neighing, dressed his\neares and shewing his sharpe and white teeth bit me on every side. In\nlike sort have I read in Histories how the King of Thrace would throw\nhis miserable ghests to be torne in peeces and devoured of his wild\nHorses, so niggish was that Tyrant of his provender, that he nourished\nthem with the bodies of men.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was made a common Asse to fetch home wood, and how he was\nhandled by a boy.\n\n\nAfter that I was thus handled by horses, I was brought home againe to\nthe Mill, but behold fortune (insatiable of my torments) had devised a\nnew paine for me. I was appointed to bring home wood every day from a\nhigh hill, and who should drive me thither and home again, but a boy\nthat was the veriest hangman in all the world, who was not contented\nwith the great travell that I tooke in climbing up the hill, neither\npleased when he saw my hoofe torne and worne away by sharpe flintes,\nbut he beat me cruelly with a great staffe, insomuch that the marrow of\nmy bones did ake for woe, for he would strike me continually on the\nright hip, and still in one place, whereby he tore my skinne and made\nof my wide sore a great hole or trench, or rather a window to looke out\nat, and although it runne downe of blood, yet would he not cease\nbeating me in that place: moreover he laded me with such great burthens\nof wood that you would thinke they had been rather prepared for\nElephants then for me, and when he perceived that my wood hanged more\non one side then another, (when he should rather take away the heavy\nsides, and so ease me, or else lift them up to make them equall with\nthe other) he laid great stones upon the weaker side to remedy the\nmatter, yet could be not be contented with this my great misery and\nimmoderate burthens of wood, but when hee came to any river (as there\nwere many by the way) he to save his feete from water, would leape upon\nmy loynes likewise, which was no small loade upon loade. And if by\nadversity I had fell downe in any dirty or myrie place, when he should\nhave pulled me out either with ropes, or lifted me up by the taile, he\nwould never helpe me, but lay me on from top to toe with a mighty\nstaffe, till he had left no haire on all my body, no not so much as on\nmine eares, whereby I was compelled by force of blowes to stand up. The\nsame hangman boy did invent another torment for me: he gathered a great\nmany sharp thornes as sharp as needles and bound them together like a\nfagot, and tyed them at my tayle to pricke me, then was I afflicted on\nevery side, for if I had indeavoured to runne away, the thornes would\nhave pricked me, if I had stood still, the boy would have beaten mee,\nand yet the boy beate mee to make me runne, whereby I perceived that\nthe hangman did devise nothing else save only to kill me by some manner\nof meanes, and he would sweare and threaten to do me worse harme, and\nbecause hee might have some occasion to execute his malicious minde,\nupon a day (after that I had endeavoured too much by my patience) I\nlifted up my heeles and spurned him welfavouredly. Then he invented\nthis vengeance against me, after that he had well laded me with shrubs\nand rubble, and trussed it round upon my backe, hee brought me out into\nthe way: then hee stole a burning coale out of a mans house of the next\nvillage, and put it into the middle of the rubbell; the rubbell and\nshrubs being very dry, did fall on a light fire and burned me on every\nside. I could see no remedy how I might save my selfe, and in such a\ncase it was not best for me to stand still but fortune was favourable\ntowards me, perhaps to reserve me for more dangers, for I espyed a\ngreat hole full of raine water that fell the day before, thither I\nranne hastily and plunged my selfe therein, in such sort that I\nquenched the fire, and was delivered from that present perill, but the\nvile boy to excuse himselfe declared to all the neighbours and\nshepheards about, that I willingly tumbled in the fire as I passed\nthrough the village. Then he laughed upon me saying: How long shall we\nnourish and keepe this fiery Asse in vaine?\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was accused of Lechery by the boy.\n\n\nA few dayes after, the boy invented another mischiefe: For when he had\nsold all the wood which I bare, to certaine men dwelling in a village\nby, he lead me homeward unladen: And then he cryed that he was not able\nto rule me, and that hee would not drive mee any longer to the hill for\nwood, saying: Doe you not see this slow and dulle Asse, who besides all\nthe mischiefes that he hath wrought already, inventeth daily more and\nmore. For he espyeth any woman passing by the way, whether she be old\nor marryed, or if it be a young child, hee will throw his burthen from\nhis backe, and runneth fiercely upon them. And after that he hath\nthrown them downe, he will stride over them to commit his buggery and\nbeastly pleasure, moreover hee will faine as though hee would kisse\nthem, but he will bite their faces cruelly, which thing may worke us\ngreat displeasure, or rather to be imputed unto us as a crime: and even\nnow when he espyed an honest maiden passing by the high way, he by and\nby threw downe his wood and runne after her: And when he had throwne\nher down upon the ground, he would have ravished her before the face of\nall the world, had it not beene that by reason of her crying out, she\nwas succored and pulled from his heeles, and so delivered. And if it\nhad so come to passe that this fearefull maid had beene slaine by him,\nwhat danger had we beene in? By these and like lies, he provoked the\nshepheards earnestly against me, which grieved mee (God wot) full sore\nthat said nothing. Then one of the shepheards said: Why doe we not make\nsacrifice of this common adulterous Asse? My sonne (quoth he) let us\nkill him and throw his guts to the dogges, and reserve his flesh for\nthe labourers supper. Then let us cast dust upon his skinne, and carry\nit home to our master, and say that the Woolves have devoured him. The\nboy that was my evill accuser made no delay, but prepared himselfe to\nexecute the sentence of the shepheard, rejoycing at my present danger,\nbut O how greatly did I then repent that the stripe which I gave him\nwith my heele had not killed him. Then he drew out his sword and made\nit sharp upon the whetstone to slay me, but another of the shepheards\ngan say, Verely it is a great offence to kill so faire an Asse, and so\n(by accusation of luxurie and lascivious wantonnesse) to lack so\nnecessarie his labour and service, where otherwise if ye would cut off\nhis stones, he might not onely be deprived of his courage but also\nbecome gentle, that we should be delivered from all feare and danger.\nMoreover he would be thereby more fat and better in flesh. For I know\nmy selfe as well many Asses, as also most fierce horses, that by reason\nof their wantonnesse have beene most mad and terrible, but (when they\nwere gelded and cut) they have become gentle and tame, and tractable to\nall use. Wherefore I would counsell you to geld him. And if you consent\nthereto, I will by and by, when I go to the next market fetch mine\nirons and tooles for the purpose: And I ensure you after that I have\ngelded and cut off his stones, I will deliver him unto you as tame as a\nlambe. When I did perceive that I was delivered from death, and\nreserved to be gelded, I was greatly sorrie, insomuch that I thought\nall the hinder part of my body and my stones did ake for woe, but I\nsought about to kill my selfe by some manner of meanes, to the end if I\nshould die, I would die with unperished members.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTIETH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow the boy that lead Apuleius to the field, was slaine in the wood.\n\n\nWhile I devised with my selfe in what manner I might end my life, the\nroperipe boy on the next morrow lead me to the same hill againe, and\ntied me to a bow of a great Oke, and in the meane season he tooke his\nhatchet and cut wood to load me withall, but behold there crept out of\na cave by, a marvailous great Beare, holding out his mighty head, whom\nwhen I saw, I was sodainly stroken in feare, and (throwing all the\nstrength of my body into my hinder heeles) lifted up my strained head\nand brake the halter, wherewith I was tied. Then there was no need to\nbid me runne away, for I scoured not only on foot, but tumbled over the\nstones and rocks with my body till I came into the open fields, to the\nintent I would escape from the terrible Beare, but especially from the\nboy that was worse than the Beare. Then a certaine stranger that passed\nby the way (espying me alone as a stray Asse) tooke me up and roade\nupon my backe, beating me with a staffe (which he bare in his hand)\nthrough a wide and unknowne lane, whereat I was nothing displeased, but\nwillingly went forward to avoid the cruell paine of gelding, which the\nshepherds had ordained for me, but as for the stripes I was nothing\nmoved, since I was accustomed to be beaten so every day. But evill\nfortune would not suffer me to continue in so good estate long: For the\nshepheards looking about for a Cow that they had lost (after they had\nsought in divers places) fortuned to come upon us unwares, who when\nthey espied and knew me, they would have taken me by the halter, but he\nthat rode upon my backe resisted them saying, O Lord masters, what\nintend you to do? Will you rob me? Then said the shepheards, What?\nthinkest thou we handle thee otherwise then thou deservest, which hast\nstollen away our Asse? Why dost thou not rather tell us where thou hast\nhidden the boy whom thou hast slaine? And therewithall they pulled him\ndowne to the ground, beating him with their fists, and spurning him\nwith their feete. Then he answered unto them saying, that he saw no\nmanner of boy, but onely found the Asse loose and straying abroad,\nwhich he tooke up to the intent to have some reward for the finding of\nhim and to restore him againe to his Master. And I would to God (quoth\nhe) that this Asse (which verely was never seene) could speake as a man\nto give witnesse of mine innocency: Then would you be ashamed of the\ninjury which you have done to me. Thus (reasoning for Himselfe) he\nnothing prevailed, for they tied the halter about my necke, and (maugre\nhis face) pulled me quite away, and lead me backe againe through the\nwoods of the hill to the place where the boy accustomed to resort. And\nafter they could find him in no place, at length they found his body\nrent and torne in peeces, and his members dispersed in sundry places,\nwhich I well knew was done by the cruell Beare: and verely I would have\ntold it if I might have spoken, but (which I could onely do) I greatly\nrejoiced at his death, although it came too late. Then they gathered\ntogether the peeces of his body and buried them. By and by they laid\nthe fault to my new Master, that tooke me up by the way, and (bringing\nhim home fast bound to their houses) purposed on the next morrow to\naccuse him of murther, and to lead him before the Justices to have\njudgement of death.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-FIRST CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was cruelly beaten by the Mother of the boy that was\nslaine.\n\n\nIn the meane season, while the Parents of the boy did lament and weepe\nfor the death of their sonne, the shepheard (according to his promise)\ncame with his instruments and tooles to geld me. Then one of them said,\nTush we little esteeme the mischiefe he did yesterday, but now we are\ncontented that to morrow his stones shall not onely be cut off, but\nalso his head. So was it brought to passe, that my death was delayed\ntill the next morrow, but what thanks did I give to that good boy, who\n(being so slaine) was the cause of my pardon for one short day. Howbeit\nI had no time then to rest my selfe, for the Mother of the boy, weeping\nand lamenting for his death, attired in mourning vesture, tare her\nhaire and beat her breast, and came presently into the stable, saying,\nIs it reason that this carelesse beast should do nothing all day but\nhold his head in the manger, filling and belling his guts with meat\nwithout compassion of my great miserie, or remembrance of the pittiful\ndeath of his slaine Master: and contemning my age and infirmity,\nthinketh that I am unable to revenge his mischiefs, moreover he would\nperswade me, that he were not culpable. Indeed, it is a convenient\nthing to looke and plead for safety, when as the conscience doeth\nconfesse the offence, as theeves and malefactors accustome to do. But O\ngood Lord, thou cursed beast, if thou couldest utter the contents of\nthine owne mind, whom (though it were the veriest foole in all the\nworld) mightest thou perswade that this murther was voide or without\nthy fault, when as it lay in thy power, either to keepe off the theeves\nwith thy heeles, or else to bite and teare them with thy teeth?\nCouldest not thou (that so often in his life time diddest spurne and\nkicke him) defend him now at the point of death by the like meane? Yet\nat least, thou shouldest have taken him upon thy backe, and so brought\nhim from the cruell hands of the theeves: where contrary thou runnest\naway alone, forsaking thy good Master, thy pastor and conductor.\nKnowest thou not, that such as denie their wholsome help and aid to\nthem which lie in danger of death, ought to be punished, because they\nhave offended against good manners, and the law naturall? But I promise\nthee, thou shalt not long rejoyce at my harmes, thou shalt feele the\nsmart of thy homicide and offence, I will see what I can doe. And\ntherewithall she unclosed her apron, and bound all my feete together,\nto the end I might not help my selfe, then she tooke a great barre,\nwhich accustomed to bar the stable doore, and never ceased beating me\ntill she was so weary that the bar fell out of her hands, whereupon she\n(complaining of the soone faintnesse of her armes) ran to her fire and\nbrought a firebrand and thrust it under my taile, burning me\ncontinually, till such time as (having but one remedy) I arayed her\nface and eies with my durty dunge, whereby (what with the stinke\nthereof, and what with the filthinesse that fell in her eies) she was\nwelnigh blinded: so I enforced the queane to leave off, otherwise I had\ndied as Meleager did by the sticke, which his mad mother Althea cast\ninto the fire.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EIGHTH BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-SECOND CHAPTER\n\n\nHow a young man came and declared the miserable death of Lepolemus and\nhis wife Charites.\n\n\nAbout midnight came a young man, which seemed to be one of the family\nof the good woman Charites, who sometimes endured so much misery and\ncalamity with mee amongst the theeves, who after that hee had taken a\nstoole, and sate downe before the fireside, in the company of the\nservants, began to declare many terrible things that had happened unto\nthe house of Charites, saying: O yee house-keepers, shepheards and\ncowheards, you shall understand that wee have lost our good mistris\nCharites miserably and by evill adventure: and to the end you may\nlearne and know all the whole matter, I purpose to tell you the\ncircumstances of every point, whereby such as are more learned then I\n(to whom fortune hath ministred more copious stile) may painte it out\nin paper in forme of an History. There was a young Gentleman dwelling\nin the next City, borne of good parentage, valiant in prowesse, and\nriche in substance, but very much given and adicted to whorehunting,\nand continuall revelling. Whereby he fell in company with Theeves, and\nhad his hand ready to the effusion of humane blood; his name was\nThrasillus. The matter was this according to the report of every man.\nHee demanded Charites in marriage, who although he were a man more\ncomely then the residue that wooed her, and also had riches abundantly,\nyet because he was of evill fame, and a man of wicked manners and\nconversation, he had the repulse and was put off by Charites, and so\nshe married with Lepolemus. Howbeit this young man secretly loved her,\nyet moved somewhat at her refusall, hee busily searched some meanes to\nworke his damnable intent. And (having found occasion and opportunity\nto accomplish his purpose, which he had long time concealed) brought to\npasse, that the same day that Charites was delivered by the subtill\nmeane and valiant audacity of her husband, from the puissance of the\nTheeves, he mingled himselfe among the assembly, faining that he was\nglad of the new marriage, and comming home againe of the maiden,\nWhereby (by reason that he came of so noble parents) he was received\nand entertained into the house as one of their chiefe and principall\nfriends: Howbeit under cloake of a faithfull welwiller, hee dissimuled\nhis mischievous mind and intent: in continuance of time by much\nfamiliarity and often conversation and banketting together, he fell\nmore and more in favour, like as we see it fortuneth to Lovers, who\nfirst doe little delight themselves in love: till as by continuall\nacquaintance they kisse and imbrace each other. Thrasillus perceiving\nthat it was a hard matter to breake his minde secretly to Charites,\nwhereby he was wholly barred from the accomplishment of his luxurious\nappetite, and on the other side perceiving that the love of her and her\nhusband was so strongly lincked together, that the bond betweene them\nmight in no wise be dissevered, moreover, it was a thing impossible to\nravish her, although he had consented thereto, yet was hee still\nprovoked forward by vehement lust, when as hee saw himselfe unable to\nbring his purpose to passe. Howbeit at length the thing which seemed so\nhard and difficill, thorough hope of his fortified love, did now\nappeare easie and facill: but marke I pray you diligently to what end\nthe furious force of his inordinate desire came. On a day Lepolemus\nwent to the chase with Thrasillus, to hunt for Goates, for his wife\nCharites desired him earnestly to meddle with no other beasts, which\nwere of more fierce and wilde nature. When they were come within the\nchase to a great thicket fortressed about with bryers and thornes, they\ncompassed round with their Dogs and beset every place with nets: by and\nby warning was given to let loose. The Dogs rushed in with such a cry,\nthat all the Forrest rang againe with the noyse, but behold there\nleaped out no Goat, nor Deere, nor gentle Hinde, but an horrible and\ndangerous wild Boare, hard and thicke skinned, bristeled terribly with\nthornes, foming at the mouth, grinding his teeth, and looking direfully\nwith fiery eyes. The Dogs that first set upon him, he tare and rent\nwith his tuskes, and then he ranne quite through the nets, and escaped\naway. When wee saw the fury of this beast, wee were greatly striken\nwith feare, and because wee never accustomed to chase such dreadfull\nBoares, and further because we were unarmed and without weapons, we got\nand hid our selves under bushes and trees. Then Thrasillus having found\nopportunity to worke his treason, said to Lepolemus: What stand we here\namazed? Why show we our selves like dastards? Why leese we so worthy a\nprey with our feminine hearts? Let us mount upon our Horses, and pursue\nhim incontinently: take you a hunting staffe, and I will take a chasing\nspeare. By and by they leaped upon their Horses, and followed the\nbeast. But hee returning against them with furious force, pryed with\nhis eyes, on whom hee might first assayle with his tuskes: Lepolemus\nstrooke the beast first on the backe with his hunting staffe.\nThrasillus faining to ayde and assist him, came behind, and cut off the\nhinder legges of Lepolemus Horse, in such sort that hee fell downe to\nthe ground with his master: and sodainely the Boare came upon Lepolemus\nand furiously tare and rent him with his teeth. Howbeit, Thrasillus was\nnot sufficed to see him thus wounded, but when he desired his friendly\nhelp, he thrust Lepolemus through the right thigh with his speare, the\nmore because he thought the wound of the speare would be taken for a\nwound of the Boars teeth, then he killed the beast likewise, And when\nhe was thus miserably slaine, every one of us came out of our holes,\nand went towards our slaine master. But although that Thrasillus was\njoyfull of the death of Lepolemus, whom he did greatly hate, yet he\ncloked the matter with a sorrowfull countenance, he fained a dolorous\nface, he often imbraced the body which himselfe slew, he played all the\nparts of a mourning person, saving there fell no teares from his eyes.\nThus hee resembled us in each point, who verily and not without\noccasion had cause to lament for our master, laying all the blame of\nthis homicide unto the Boare. Incontinently after the sorrowfull newes\nof the death of Lepolemus, came to the eares of all the family, but\nespecially to Charites, who after she had heard such pitifull tydings,\nas a mad and raging woman, ran up and down the streets, crying and\nhowling lamentably. All the Citizens gathered together, and such as\nthey met bare them company running towards the chasse. When they came\nto the slaine body of Lepolemus, Charites threw her selfe upon him\nweeping and lamenting grievously for his death, in such sort, that she\nwould have presently ended her life, upon the corps of her slaine\nhusband, whom shee so entirely loved, had it not beene that her parents\nand friends did comfort her, and pulled her away. The body was taken\nup, and in funerall pompe brought to the City and buried. In the meane\nseason, Thrasillus fained much sorrow for the death of Lepolemus, but\nin his heart he was well pleased and joyfull. And to counterfeit the\nmatter, he would come to Charites and say: O what a losse have I had of\nmy friend, my fellow, my companion Lepolemus? O Charites comfort your\nselfe, pacifie your dolour, refraine your weeping, beat not your\nbreasts: and with such other and like words and divers examples he\nendeavoured to suppresse her great sorrow, but he spake not this for\nany other intent but to win the heart of the woman, and to nourish his\nodious love with filthy delight. Howbeit Charites after the buriall of\nher husband sought the meanes to follow him, and (not sustaining the\nsorrows wherein she was Wrapped) got her secretly into a chamber and\npurposed to finish her life there with dolour and tribulation. But\nThrasillus was very importunate, and at length brought to passe, that\nat the intercession of the Parents and friends of Charites, she\nsomewhat refreshed her fallen members with refection of meate and\nbaine. Howbeit, she did it more at the commandement of her Parents,\nthen for any thing else: for she could in no wise be merry, nor receive\nany comfort, but tormented her selfe day and night before the Image of\nher husband which she made like unto Bacchus, and rendred unto him\ndivine honours and services. In the meane season Thrasillus not able to\nrefraine any longer, before Charites had asswaged her dolor, before her\ntroubled mind had pacified her fury, even in the middle of all her\ngriefes, while she tare her haire and rent her garments, demanded her\nin marriage, and so without shame, he detected the secrets and\nunspeakeable deceipts of his heart. But Charites detested and abhorred\nhis demand, and as she had beene stroken with some clap of thunder,\nwith some storme, or with the lightning of Jupiter, she presently fell\ndowne to the ground all amazed. Howbeit when her spirits were revived\nand that she returned to her selfe, perceiving that Thrasillus was so\nimportunate, she demanded respite to deliberate and to take advise on\nthe matter. In the meane season, the shape of Lepolemus that was slaine\nso miserably, appeared to Charites saying, O my sweet wife (which no\nother person can say but I) I pray thee for the love which is betweene\nus two, if there be any memorie of me in thy heart, or remembrance of\nmy pittifull death, marry with any other person, so that thou marry not\nwith the traitour Thrasillus, have no conference with him, eate not\nwith him, lie not with him, avoid the bloudie hand of mine enemie,\ncouple not thy selfe with a paricide, for those wounds (the bloud\nwhereof thy teares did wash away) were not the wounds of the teeth of\nthe Boare, but the speare of Thrasillus, that deprived me from thee.\nThus spake Lepolemus, unto his loving wife, and declared the residue of\nthe damnable fact. Then Charites, awaking from sleepe, began to renew\nher dolour, to teare her garments, and to beate her armes with her\ncomely hands, howbeit she revealed the vision which she saw to no\nmanner of person, but dissimuling that she knew no part of the\nmischiefe, devised with her selfe how she might be revenged on the\ntraitor, and finish her owne life to end and knit up all sorrow.\nIncontinently came Thrasillus, the detestable demander of sodaine\npleasure, and wearied the closed eares of Charites with talke of\nmarriage, but she gently refused his communication, and coloring the\nmatter, with passing craft in the middest of his earnest desires gan\nsay, Thrasillus you shall understand that yet the face of your brother\nand my husband, is alwayes before mine eies, I smell yet the Cinamon\nsent of his pretious body, I yet feele Lepolemus alive in my heart:\nwherefore you shall do well if you grant to me miserable woman,\nnecessarie time to bewaile his death, that after the residue of a few\nmonths, the whole yeare may be expired, which thing toucheth as well my\nshame as your wholsome profit, lest peradventure by your speed and\nquicke marriage we should justly raise and provoke the spirit of my\nhusband to worke our destruction. Howbeit, Thrasillus was not contented\nwith this promise, but more and more came upon her: Insomuch, that she\nwas enforced to speake to him in this manner: My friend Thrasillus, if\nthou be so contented untill the whole yeare be compleate and finished,\nbehold here is my bodie, take thy pleasure, but in such sort and so\nsecret that no servant of the house may perceive it. Then Thrasillus\ntrusting to the false promises of the woman, and preferring his\ninordinate pleasure above all things in the world, was joyfull in his\nheart and looked for night, when as he might have his purpose. But come\nthou about midnight (quoth Charites) disguised without companie, and\ndoe but hisse at my chamber doore, and my nourse shall attend and let\nthee in. This counsell pleased Thrasillus marveilously, who (suspecting\nno harme) did alwaies looke for night, and the houre assigned by\nCharites. The time was scarce come, when as (according to her\ncommandement) he disguised himselfe, and went straight to the chamber,\nwhere he found the nourse attending for him, who (by the appointment of\nher Mistresse) fed him with flattering talke, and gave him mingled and\ndoled drinke in a cup, excusing the absence of her Mistresse Charites,\nby reason that she attended on her Father being sick, untill such time,\nthat with sweet talke and operation of the wine, he fell in a sound\nsleepe: Now when he lay prostrate on the ground readie to all\nadventure, Charites (being called for) came in, and with manly courage\nand bold force stood over the sleeping murderer, saying: Behold the\nfaithfull companion of my husband, behold this valiant hunter; behold\nme deere spouse, this is the hand which shed my bloud, this is the\nheart which hath devised so many subtill meanes to worke my\ndestruction, these be the eies whom I have ill pleased, behold now they\nforeshew their owne destinie: sleepe carelesse, dreame that thou art in\nthe hands of the mercifull, for I will not hurt thee with thy sword or\nany other weapon: God forbid that I should slay thee as thou slewest my\nhusband, but thy eies shall faile thee, and thou shalt see no more,\nthen that whereof thou dreamest: Thou shalt thinke the death of thine\nenemie more sweet then thy life: Thou shalt see no light, thou shalt\nlacke the aide of a leader, thou shalt not have me as thou hopest, thou\nshalt have no delight of my marriage, thou shalt not die, and yet\nliving thou shalt have no joy, but wander betweene light and darknesse\nas an unsure Image: thou shalt seeke for the hand that pricked out\nthine eies, yet shalt thou not know of whom thou shouldest complaine: I\nwill make sacrifice with the bloud of thine eies upon the grave of my\nhusband. But what gainest thou through my delay? Perhaps thou dreamest\nthat thou embracest me in thy armes: leave off the darknesse of sleepe\nand awake thou to receive a penall deprivation of thy sight, lift up\nthy face, regard thy vengeance and evill fortune, reckon thy miserie;\nso pleaseth thine eies to a chast woman, that thou shall have\nblindnesse to thy companion, and an everlasting remorse of thy\nmiserable conscience. When she had spoken these words, she tooke a\ngreat needle from her head and pricked out both his eies: which done,\nshe by and by caught the naked sword which her husband Lepolemus\naccustomed to weare, and ranne throughout all the Citie like a mad\nwoman towards the Sepulchre of her husband. Then all we of the house,\nwith all the Citizens, ranne incontinently after her to take the sword\nout of her hand, but she clasping about the tombe of Lepolemus, kept us\noff with her naked weapon, and when she perceived that every one of us\nwept and lamented, she spake in this sort: I pray you my friends weepe\nnot, nor lament for me, for I have revenged the death of my husband, I\nhave punished deservedly the wicked breaker of our marriage; now is it\ntime to seeke out my sweet Lepolemus, and presently with this sword to\nfinish my life. And therewithall after she had made relation of the\nwhole matter, declared the vision which she saw and told by what meane\nshe deceived Thrasillus, thrusting her sword under her right brest, and\nwallowing in her owne bloud, at length with manly courage yeelded up\nthe Ghost. Then immediately the friends of miserable Charites did bury\nher body within the same Sepulchre. Thrasillus hearing all the matter,\nand knowing not by what meanes he might end his life, for he thought\nhis sword was not sufficient to revenge so great a crime, at length\nwent to the same Sepulchre, and cryed with a lowd voice, saying: o yee\ndead spirites whom I have so highly and greatly offended, vouchsafe to\nreceive me, behold I make Sacrifice unto you with my whole body: which\nsaid, hee closed the Sepulchre, purposing to famish himselfe, and to\nfinish his life there in sorrow. These things the young man with\npitifull sighes and teares, declared unto the Cowheards and Shepheards,\nwhich caused them all to weepe: but they fearing to become subject unto\nnew masters, prepared themselves to depart away.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-THIRD CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was lead away by the Horsekeeper: and what danger he was\nin.\n\n\nBy and by the Horsekeeper, to whom the charge of me was committed,\nbrought forth all his substance, and laded me and other Horses withall,\nand so departed thence: we bare women, children, pullets, sparrowes,\nkiddes, whelpes, and other things which were not able to keepe pace\nwith us, and that which I bare upon my backe, although it was a mighty\nburthen, yet seemed it very light because I was driven away from him\nthat most terribly had appointed to kill me. When we had passed over a\ngreat mountaine full of trees, and were come againe into the open\nfields, behold we approached nigh to a faire and rich Castell, where it\nwas told unto us that we were not able to passe in our journey that\nnight, by reason of the great number of terrible Wolves which were in\nthe Country about, so fierce and cruell that they put every man in\nfeare, in such sort that they would invade and set upon such which\npassed by like theeves, and devoure both them and their beasts.\nMoreover, we were advertised that there lay in the way where we should\npasse, many dead bodies eaten and torne with wolves. Wherefore we were\nwilled to stay there all night, and on the next morning, to goe close\nand round together, whereby we might passe and escape all dangers. But\n(notwithstanding this good counsell) our caitife drivers were so\ncovetous to goe forward, and so fearefull of pursuite, that they never\nstayed till the morning: But being welnigh midnight, they made us\ntrudge in our way apace. Then I fearing the great danger which might\nhappen, ran amongst the middle of the other Horses, to the end I might\ndefend and save my poore buttocks from the Wolves, whereat every man\nmuch marvelled to see, that I scowred away swifter then the other\nHorses. But such was my agility, not to get me any prayse, but rather\nfor feare: at that time I remembered with my selfe, that the valiant\nHorse Pegasus did fly in the ayre more to avoyd the danger of dreadful\nChimera, then for any thing else. The shepheards which drave us before\nthem were well armed like warriours: one had a speare, another had a\nsheepehooke, some had darts, some clubbes, some gathered up great\nstones, some held up their sharp Javelings, and some feared away the\nWoolves with light firebrands. Finally wee lacked nothing to make up an\nArmy, but onely Drummes and Trumpets. But when we had passed these\ndangers, not without small feare, wee fortuned to fall into worse, for\nthe Woolves came not upon us, either because of the great multitude of\nour company, or else because [of] our firebrands, or peradventure they\nwere gone to some other place, for wee could see none, but the\nInhabitants of the next villages (supposing that wee were Theeves by\nreason of the great multitude) for the defence of their owne substance,\nand for the feare that they were in, set great and mighty masties upon\nus, which they had kept and nourished for the safety of their houses,\nwho compassing us round about leaped on every side, tearing us with\ntheir teeth, in such sort that they pulled many of us to the ground:\nverily it was a pittifull sight to see so many Dogs, some following\nsuch as flyed, some invading such as stood still, some tearing those\nwhich lay prostrate, but generally there were none which escaped\ncleare: Behold upon this another danger ensued, the Inhabitants of the\nTowne stood in their garrets and windowes, throwing great stones upon\nour heads, that wee could not tell whether it were best for us to avoyd\nthe gaping mouthes of the Dogges at hand or the perill of the stones\nafarre, amongst whome there was one that hurled a great flint upon a\nwoman, which sate upon my backe, who cryed out pitiously, desiring her\nhusband to helpe her. Then he (comming to succour and ayd his wife)\nbeganne to speake in this sort: Alas masters, what mean you to trouble\nus poore labouring men so cruelly? What meane you to revenge your\nselves upon us, that doe you no harme? What thinke you to gaine by us?\nYou dwell not in Caves or Dennes: you are no people barbarous, that you\nshould delight in effusion of humane blood. At these words the tempest\nof stones did cease, and the storme of the Dogges vanished away. Then\none (standing on the toppe of a great Cypresse tree) spake unto us\nsaying: Thinke you not masters that we doe this to the intent to rifle\nor take away any of your goods, but for the safeguard of our selves and\nfamily: now a Gods name you may depart away. So we went forward, some\nwounded with stones, some bitten with Dogs, but generally there was\nnone which escaped free.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-FOURTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow the shepheards determined to abide in a certaine wood to cure their\nwounds.\n\n\nWhen we had gone a good part of our way, we came to a certaine wood\ninvironed with great trees and compassed about with pleasant meddowes,\nwhereas the Shepheards appointed to continue a certaine space to cure\ntheir wounds and sores; then they sate downe on the ground to refresh\ntheir wearie minds, and afterwards they sought for medicines, to heale\ntheir bodies: some washed away their blood with the water of the\nrunning River: some stopped their wounds with Spunges and cloutes, in\nthis manner every one provided for his owne safety. In the meane season\nwee perceived an old man, who seemed to be a Shepheard, by reason of\nthe Goates and Sheep that fed round about him. Then one of our company\ndemanded whether he had any milke, butter, or cheese to sell. To whom\nhe made answere saying: Doe you looke for any meate or drinke, or any\nother refection here? Know you not in what place you be?\n\nAnd therewithall he tooke his sheepe and drave them away as fast as he\nmight possible. This answere made our shepheards greatly to feare, that\nthey thought of nothing else, but to enquire what Country they were in:\nHowbeit they saw no manner of person of whom they might demand. At\nlength as they were thus in doubt, they perceived another old man with\na staffe in his hand very weary with travell, who approaching nigh to\nour company, began to weepe and complaine saying: Alas masters I pray\nyou succour me miserable caitife, and restore my nephew to me againe,\nthat by following a sparrow that flew before him, is fallen into a\nditch hereby, and verily I thinke he is in danger of death. As for me,\nI am not able to helpe him out by reason of mine old age, but you that\nare so valiant and lusty may easily helpe me herein, and deliver me my\nboy, my heire and guide of my life. These words made us all to pity\nhim. And then the youngest and stoutest of our company, who alone\nescaped best the late skirmish of Dogges and stones, rose up and\ndemanded in what ditch the boy was fallen: Mary (quod he) yonder, and\npointed with his finger, and brought him to a great thicket of bushes\nand thornes where they both entred in. In the meane season, after we\ncured our wounds, we tooke up our packs, purposing to depart away. And\nbecause we would not goe away without the young man our fellow: The\nshepheards whistled and called for him, but when he gave no answer,\nthey sent one out of their company to seeke him out, who after a while\nreturned againe with a pale face and sorrowfull newes, saying that he\nsaw a terrible Dragon eating and devouring their companion: and as for\nthe old man, hee could see him in no place. When they heard this,\n(remembring likewise the words of the first old man that shaked his\nhead, and drave away his sheep) they ran away beating us before them,\nto fly from this desart and pestilent Country.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-FIFTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow a woman killed her selfe and her child, because her husband haunted\nharlots.\n\n\nAfter that we had passed a great part of our journey, we came to a\nvillage where we lay all night, but harken, and I will tell you what\nmischiefe happened there: you shall understand there was a servant to\nwhom his Master had committed the whole government of his house, and\nwas Master of the lodging where we lay: this servant had married a\nMaiden of the same house, howbeit he was greatly in love with a harlot\nof the towne, and accustomed to resort unto her, wherewith his wife was\nso highly displeased and became so jealous, that she gathered together\nall her husbands substance, with his tales and books of account, and\nthrew them into a light fire: she was not contented with this, but she\ntooke a cord and bound her child which she had by her husband, about\nher middle and cast her selfe headlong into a deepe pit. The Master\ntaking in evill part the death of these twaine, tooke his servant which\nwas the cause of this murther by his luxurie, and first after that he\nhad put off all his apparell, he annointed his body with honey, and\nthen bound him sure to a fig-tree, where in a rotten stocke a great\nnumber of Pismares had builded their neasts, the Pismares after they\nhad felt the sweetnesse of the honey came upon his body, and by little\nand little (in continuance of time) devoured all his flesh, in such\nsort, that there remained on the tree but his bare bones: this was\ndeclared unto us by the inhabitants of the village there, who greatly\nsorrowed for the death of this servant: then we avoiding likewise from\nthis dreadfull lodging incontinently departed away.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-SIXTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was cheapned by divers persons, and how they looked in his\nmouth to know his age.\n\n\nAfter this we came to a faire Citie very populous, where our shepheards\ndetermined to continue, by reason that it seemed a place where they\nmight live unknowne, far from such as should pursue them, and because\nit was a countrey very plentifull of corne and other victuals, where\nwhen we had remained the space of three dayes, and that I poore Asse\nand the other horses were fed and kept in the stable to the intent we\nmight seeme more saleable, we were brought out at length to the market,\nand by and by a crier sounded with his horne to notifie that we were to\nbe sold: all my companion horses were bought up by Gentlemen, but as\nfor me I stood still forsaken of all men. And when many buiers came by\nand looked in my mouth to know mine age, I was so weary with opening my\njawes that at length (unable to endure any longer) when one came with a\nstinking paire of hands and grated my gummes with his filthy fingers, I\nbit them cleane off, which thing caused the standers by to forsake me\nas being a fierce and cruell beast: the crier when he had gotten a\nhoarse voice with crying, and saw that no man would buy me, began to\nmocke me saying, To what end stand we here with this wilde Asse, this\nfeeble beast, this slow jade with worne hooves, good for nothing but to\nmake sives of his skin? Why do we not give him to some body for he\nearneth not his hay? In this manner he made all the standers by to\nlaugh exceedingly, but my evill fortune which was ever so cruell\nagainst me, whom I by travell of so many countreys could in no wise\nescape, did more and more envie me, with invention of new meanes to\nafflict my poore body in giving me a new Master as spitefull as the\nrest. There was an old man somewhat bald, with long and gray haire, one\nof the number of those that go from door to door, throughout all the\nvillages, bearing the Image of the goddesse Syria, and playing with\nCimbals to get the almes of good and charitable folks, this old man\ncame hastely towards the cryer, and demanded where I was bred: Marry\n(quoth he) in Cappadocia: Then he enquired what age I was of, the cryer\nanswered as a Mathematician, which disposed to me my Planets, that I\nwas five yeares old, and willed the old man to looke in my mouth: For I\nwould not willingly (quoth he) incur the penalty of the law Cornelia,\nin selling a free Citizen for a servile slave, buy a Gods name this\nfaire beast to ride home on, and about in the countrey: But this\ncurious buier did never stint to question of my qualities, and at\nlength he demanded whether I were gentle or no: Gentle (quoth the\ncrier) as gentle as a Lambe, tractable to all use, he will never bite,\nhe will never kicke, but you would rather thinke that under the shape\nof an Asse there were some well advised man, which verely you may\neasily conject, for if you would thrust your nose in his taile you\nshall perceive how patient he is: Thus the cryer mocked the old man,\nbut he perceiving his taunts and jests, waxed very angry saying, Away\ndoting cryer, I pray the omnipotent and omniparent goddesse Syria,\nSaint Sabod, Bellona, with her mother Idea, and Venus, with Adonis, to\nstrike out both thine eies, that with taunting mocks hast scoffed me in\nthis sort: Dost thou thinke that I will put a goddesse upon the backe\nof any fierce beast, whereby her divine Image should be throwne downe\non the ground, and so I poore miser should be compelled (tearing my\nhaire) to looke for some Physition to helpe her? When I heard him\nspeake thus, I thought with my selfe sodainly to leap upon him like a\nmad Asse, to the intent he should not buy me, but incontinently there\ncame another Marchant that prevented my thought, and offered 17 Pence\nfor me, then my Master was glad and received the money, and delivered\nme to my new Master who was called Phelibus, and he caried his new\nservant home, and before he came to his house, he called out his\ndaughters saying, Behold my daughters, what a gentle servant I have\nbought for you: then they were marvailous glad, and comming out\npratling and shouting for joy, thought verely that he had brought home\na fit and conveniable servant for their purpose, but when they\nperceived that it was an Asse, they began to provoke him, saying that\nhe had not bought a servant for his Maidens, but rather an Asse for\nhimselfe. Howbeit (quoth they) keepe him not wholly for your owne\nriding, but let us likewise have him at commandement. Therewithall they\nled me into the stable, and tied me to the manger: there was a certaine\nyong man with a mighty body, wel skilled in playing on instruments\nbefore the gods to get money, who (as soone as he had espied me)\nentertained me verie well, for he filled my racke and maunger full of\nmeat, and spake merrily saying, O master Asse, you are very welcome,\nnow you shall take my office in hand, you are come to supply my roome,\nand to ease me of my miserable labour: but I pray God thou maist long\nlive and please my Master well, to the end thou maist continually\ndeliver me from so great paine. When I heard these words I did\nprognosticate my miserie to come.\n\nThe day following I saw there a great number of persons apparelled in\ndivers colours, having painted faces, mitres on their heads, vestiments\ncoloured like saffron, Surplesses of silke, and on their feet yellow\nshooes, who attired the goddesse in a robe of Purple, and put her upon\nmy backe. Then they went forth with their armes naked to their\nshoulders, bearing with them great swords and mightie axes, and dancing\nlike mad persons. After that we had passed many small villages, we\nfortuned to come to one Britunis house, where at our first entrie they\nbegan to hurle themselves hither and thither, as though they were mad.\nThey made a thousand gestures with their feete and their hands, they\nwould bite themselves, finally, every one tooke his weapon and wounded\nhis armes in divers places.\n\nAmongst whom there was one more mad then the rest, that let many deepe\nsighes from the bottome of his heart, as though he had beene ravished\nin spirite, or replenished with divine power. And after that, he\nsomewhat returning to himselfe, invented and forged a great lye,\nsaying, that he had displeased the divine majesty of the goddesse, by\ndoing of some thing which was not convenable to the order of their holy\nreligion, wherefore he would doe vengeance of himselfe: and\ntherewithall he tooke a whip, and scourged his owne body, that the\nbloud issued out aboundantly, which thing caused me greatly to feare,\nto see such wounds and effusion of bloud, least the same goddesse\ndesiring so much the bloud of men, should likewise desire the bloud of\nan Asse. After they were wearie with hurling and beating themselves,\nthey sate downe, and behold, the inhabitants came in, and offered gold,\nsilver, vessels of wine, milke, cheese, flower, wheate and other\nthings: amongst whom there was one, that brought barly to the Asse that\ncarried the goddesse, but the greedie whoresons thrust all into their\nsacke, which they brought for the purpose and put it upon my backe, to\nthe end I might serve for two purposes, that is to say, for the barne\nby reason of my corne, and for the Temple by reason of the goddesse. In\nthis sort, they went from place to place, robbing all the Countrey\nover. At length they came to a certaine Castle where under colour of\ndivination, they brought to passe that they obtained a fat sheepe of a\npoore husbandman for the goddesse supper and to make sacrifice withall.\nAfter that the banket was prepared, they washed their bodies, and\nbrought in a tall young man of the village, to sup with them, who had\nscarce tasted a few pottage, when hee began to discover their beastly\ncustomes and inordinate desire of luxury. For they compassed him round\nabout, sitting at the table, and abused the young man, contrary to all\nnature and reason. When I beheld this horrible fact, I could not but\nattempt to utter my mind and say, O masters, but I could pronounce no\nmore but the first letter O, which I roared out so valiantly, that the\nyoung men of the towne seeking for a straie Asse, that they had lost\nthe same night, and hearing my voice, whereby they judged that I had\nbeene theirs, entred into the house unwares, and found these persons\ncommitting their vile abhomination, which when they saw, they declared\nto all the inhabitants by, their unnatural villany, mocking and\nlaughing at this the pure and cleane chastity of their religion. In the\nmeane season, Phelibus and his company, (by reason of the bruit which\nwas dispersed throughout all the region there of their beastly\nwickednesse) put all their trumpery upon my backe, and departed away\nabout midnight. When we had passed a great part of our journey, before\nthe rising of the Sun, we came into a wild desart, where they conspired\ntogether to slay me. For after they had taken the goddesse from my\nbacke and set her gingerly upon the ground, they likewise tooke off my\nharnesse, and bound me surely to an Oake, beating me with their whip,\nin such sort that all my body was mortified. Amongst whom there was one\nthat threatened to cut off my legs with his hatchet, because by my\nnoyse I diffamed his chastity, but the other regarding more their owne\nprofit than my utility, thought best to spare my life, because I might\ncarry home the goddesse. So they laded me againe, driving me before\nthem with their naked swords, till they came to a noble City: where the\nprincipall Patrone bearing high reverence unto the goddesse, Came in\ngreat devotion before us with Tympany, Cymbals, and other instruments,\nand received her, and all our company with much sacrifice and\nveneration. But there I remember, I thought my selfe in most danger,\nfor there was one that brought to the Master of the house, a side of a\nfat Bucke for a present, which being hanged behind the kitchin doore,\nnot far from the ground, was cleane eaten up by a gray hound, that came\nin. The Cooke when he saw the Venison devoured, lamented and wept\npitifully. And because supper time approached nigh, when as he should\nbe reproved of too much negligence, he tooke a halter to hang himselfe:\nbut his wife perceiving whereabout he went, ran incontinently to him,\nand taking the halter in both her hands, stopped him of his purpose,\nsaying, O husband, are you out of your writs? pray husband follow my\ncounsel, cary this strange Asse out into some secret place and kill\nhim, which done, cut off one of his sides, and sawce it well like the\nside of the Bucke, and set it before your Master. Then the Cooke\nhearing the counsell of his wife, was well pleased to slay me to save\nhimselfe: and so he went to the whetstone, to sharpe his tooles\naccordingly.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NINTH BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius saved himselfe from the Cooke, breaking his halter, and of\nother things that happened.\n\n\nIn this manner the traiterous Cooke prepared himselfe to slay me: and\nwhen he was ready with his knives to doe his feat, I devised with my\nselfe how I might escape the present perill, and I did not long delay:\nfor incontinently I brake the halter wherewith I was tied, and flinging\nmy heeles hither and thither to save my selfe, at length I ran hastily\ninto a Parlour, where the Master of the house was feasting with the\nPriests of the goddesse Syria, and disquieted all the company, throwing\ndowne their meats and drinks from the table. The Master of the house\ndismayed at my great disorder, commanded one of his servants to take me\nup, and locke me in some strong place, to the end I might disturb them\nno more. But I little regarded my imprisonment, considering that I was\nhappily delivered from the hands of the traiterous Cooke. Howbeit\nfortune, or the fatall disposition of the divine providence, which\nneither can be avoided by wise counsell, neither yet by any wholesome\nremedie, invented a new torment, for by and by a young ladde came\nrunning into the Parlour all trembling, and declared to the Master of\nthe house, that there was a madde Dog running about in the streetes,\nwhich had done much harme, for he had bitten many grey hounds and\nhorses in the Inne by: And he spared neither man nor beast. For there\nwas one Mitilius a Mulettour, Epheseus, a Cooke, Hyppanius a\nchamberlaine, and Appolonius a Physition, who (thinking to chase away\nthe madde Dogge) were cruelly wounded by him, insomuch that many Horses\nand other beasts infected with the venyme of his poysonous teeth became\nmadde likewise. Which thing caused them all at the table greatly to\nfeare, and thinking that I had beene bitten in like sort, came out with\nspeares, Clubs, and Pitchforks purposing to slay me, and I had\nundoubtedly beene slaine, had I not by and by crept into the Chamber,\nwhere my Master intended to lodge all night. Then they closed and\nlocked fast the doores about me, and kept the chamber round, till such\ntime as they thought that the pestilent rage of madnesse had killed me.\nWhen I was thus shutte in the chamber alone, I laid me downe upon the\nbed to sleepe, considering it was long time past, since I lay and tooke\nmy rest as a man doth. When morning was come, and that I was well\nreposed, I rose up lustily. In the meane season, they which were\nappointed to watch about the chamber all night, reasoned with\nthemselves in this sort, Verely (quoth one) I think that this rude Asse\nbe dead. So think I (quoth another) for the outragious poyson of\nmadness hath killed him, but being thus in divers opinions of a poore\nAss, they looked through a crevis, and espied me standing still, sober\nand quiet in the middle of the chamber; then they opened the doores,\nand came towards me, to prove whether I were gentle or no. Amongst whom\nthere was one, which in my opinion, was sent from Heaven to save my\nlife, that willed the other to set a bason of faire water before me,\nand thereby they would know whether I were mad or no, for if I did\ndrinke without feare as I accustomed to do, it was a signe that I was\nwhole, and in mine Assie wits, where contrary if I did flie and abhorre\nthe tast of the water, it was evident proofe of my madness, which thing\nhe said that he had read in ancient and credible books, whereupon they\ntooke a bason of cleere water, and presented it before me: but I as\nsoone as I perceived the wholesome water of my life, ran incontinently,\nthrusting my head into the bason, drank as though I had beene greatly\nathirst; then they stroked me with their hands, and bowed mine eares,\nand tooke me by the halter, to prove my patience, but I taking each\nthing in good part, disproved their mad presumption, by my meeke and\ngentle behaviour: when I was thus delivered from this double danger,\nthe next day I was laded againe with the goddesse Siria, and other\ntrumpery, and was brought into the way with Trumpets and Cymbals to beg\nin the villages which we passed by according to our custome. And after\nthat we had gone through a few towns and Castles, we fortuned to come\nto a certaine village, which was builded (as the inhabitants there\naffirme) upon the foundation of a famous ancient Citie. And after that\nwe had turned into the next Inne, we heard of a prettie jest committed\nin the towne there, which I would that you should know likewise.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER\n\n\nOf the deceipt of a Woman which made her husband Cuckold.\n\n\nThere was a man dwelling in the towne very poore, that had nothing but\nthat which he got by the labour and travell of his hands: his wife was\na faire young woman, but very lascivious, and given to the appetite and\ndesire of the flesh. It fortuned on a day, that while this poore man\nwas gone betimes in the morning to the field about his businesse,\naccording as he accustomed to doe, his wives lover secretly came into\nhis house to have his pleasure with her. And so it chanced that during\nthe time that shee and he were basking together, her husband suspecting\nno such matter, returned home praising the chast continency of his\nwife, in that hee found his doores fast closed, wherefore as his\ncustome was, he whistled to declare his comming. Then his crafty wife\nready with shifts, caught her lover and covered him under a great tub\nstanding in a corner, and therewithall she opened the doore, blaming\nher husband in this sort: Commest thou home every day with empty hands,\nand bringest nothing to maintaine our house? thou hast no regard for\nour profit, neither providest for any meate or drinke, whereas I poore\nwretch doe nothing day and night but occupie my selfe with spinning,\nand yet my travell will scarce find the Candels which we spend. O how\nmuch more happy is my neighbour Daphne, that eateth and drinketh at her\npleasure and passeth the time with her amorous lovers according to her\ndesire. What is the matter (quoth her husband) though Our Master hath\nmade holiday at the fields, yet thinke not but I have made provision\nfor our supper; doest thou not see this tub that keepeth a place here\nin our house in vaine, and doth us no service? Behold I have sold it to\na good fellow (that is here present) for five pence, wherefore I pray\nthee lend me thy hand, that I may deliver him the tub. His wife (having\ninvented a present shift) laughed on her husband, saying: What marchant\nI pray you have you brought home hither, to fetch away my tub for five\npence, for which I poore woman that sit all day alone in my house have\nbeene proffered so often seaven: her husband being well apayed of her\nwords demanded what he was that had bought the tub: Looke (quoth she)\nhe is gone under, to see where it be sound or no: then her lover which\nwas under the tub, began to stirre and rustle himselfe, and because his\nwords might agree to the words of the woman, he sayd: Dame will you\nhave me tell the truth, this tub is rotten and crackt as me seemeth on\nevery side. And then turning to her husband sayd: I pray you honest man\nlight a Candle, that I may make cleane the tub within, to see if it be\nfor my purpose or no, for I doe not mind to cast away my money\nwilfully: he by and by (being made a very Oxe) lighted a candle,\nsaying, I pray you good brother put not your selfe to so much paine,\nlet me make the tub cleane and ready for you. Whereupon he put off his\ncoate, and crept under the tub to rub away the filth from the sides. In\nthe meane season this minion lover cast his wife on the bottome of the\ntub and had his pleasure with her over his head, and as he was in the\nmiddest of his pastime, hee turned his head on this side and that side,\nfinding fault with this and with that, till as they had both ended\ntheir businesse, when as he delivered seaven pence for the tub, and\ncaused the good man himselfe to carry it on his backe againe to his\nInne.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-NINTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow the Priests of the goddesse Siria were taken and put in prison, and\nhow Apuleius was sold to a Baker.\n\n\nAfter that we had tarried there a few dayes at the cost and charges of\nthe whole Village, and had gotten much mony by our divination and\nprognostication of things to come: The priests of the goddesse Siria\ninvented a new meanes to picke mens purses, for they had certaine\nlotts, whereon were written:\n\nConiuncti terram proscindunt boves ut in futurum loeta germinent sata\n\nThat is to say: The Oxen tied and yoked together, doe till the ground\nto the intent it may bring forth his increase: and by these kind of\nlottes they deceive many of the simple sort, for if one had demanded\nwhether he should have a good wife or no, they would say that his lot\ndid testifie the same, that he should be tyed and yoked to a good woman\nand have increase of children. If one demanded whether he should buy\nlands and possession, they said that he should have much ground that\nshould yeeld his increase. If one demanded whether he should have a\ngood and prosperous voyage, they said he should have good successe, and\nit should be for the increase of his profit. If one demanded whether\nhee should vanquish his enemies, and prevaile in pursuite of theeves,\nthey said that this enemy should be tyed and yoked to him: and his\npursuits after theeves should be prosperous. Thus by the telling of\nfortunes, they gathered a great quantity of money, but when they were\nweary with giving of answers, they drave me away before them next\nnight, through a lane which was more dangerous and stony then the way\nwhich we went the night before, for on the one side were quagmires and\nfoggy marshes, on the other side were falling trenches and ditches,\nwhereby my legges failed me, in such sort that I could scarce come to\nthe plaine field pathes. And behold by and by a great company of\ninhabitants of the towne armed with weapons and on horsebacke overtooke\nus, and incontinently arresting Philebus and his Priests, tied them by\nthe necks and beate them cruelly, calling them theeves and robbers, and\nafter they had manacled their hands: Shew us (quoth they) the cup of\ngold, which (under the colour of your solemne religion) ye have taken\naway, and now ye thinke to escape in the night without punishment for\nyour fact. By and by one came towards me, and thrusting his hand into\nthe bosome of the goddesse Siria, brought out the cup which they had\nstole. Howbeit for all they appeared evident and plaine they would not\nbe confounded nor abashed, but jesting and laughing out the matter, gan\nsay: Is it reason masters that you should thus rigorously intreat us,\nand threaten for a small trifling cup, which the mother of the Goddesse\ndetermined to give to her sister for a present? Howbeit for all their\nlyes and cavellations, they were carryed backe unto the towne, and put\nin prison by the Inhabitants, who taking the cup of gold, and the\ngoddesse which I bare, did put and consecrate them amongst the treasure\nof the temple. The next day I was carryed to the market to be sold, and\nmy price was set at seaven pence more then Philebus gave for me. There\nfortuned to passe by a Baker of the next village, who after that he had\nbought a great deale of corne, bought me likewise to carry it home, and\nwhen he had well laded me therewith, be drave me through a thorny and\ndangerous way to his bake house; there I saw a great company of horses\nthat went in the mill day and night grinding of corne, but lest I\nshould be discouraged at the first, my master entertained me well, for\nthe first day I did nothing but fare daintily, howbeit such mine ease\nand felicity did not long endure, for the next day following I was tyed\nto the mill betimes in the morning with my face covered, to the end in\nturning amid winding so often one way, I should not become giddy, but\nkeepe a certaine course, but although when I was a man I had seen many\nsuch horsemills and knew well enough how they should be turned, yet\nfeining my selfe ignorant of such kind of toile, I stood still and\nwould not goe, whereby I thought I should be taken from the mill as an\nAsse unapt, and put to some other light thing, or else to be driven\ninto the fields to pasture, but my subtility did me small good, for by\nand by when the mill stood still, the servants came about me, crying\nand beating me forward, in such sort that I could not stay to advise my\nselfe, whereby all the company laughed to see so suddaine a change.\nWhen a good part of the day was past, that I was not able to endure any\nlonger, they tooke off my harnesse, and tied me to the manger, but\nalthough my bones were weary, and that I needed to refresh my selfe\nwith rest and provender, yet I was so curious that I did greatly\ndelight to behold the bakers art, insomuch that I could not eate nor\ndrinke while I looked on.\n\nO good Lord what a sort of poore slaves were there; some had their\nskinne blacke and blew, some had their backes striped with lashes, some\nwere covered with rugged sackes, some had their members onely hidden:\nsome wore such ragged clouts, that you might perceive all their naked\nbodies, some were marked and burned in the heads with hot yrons, some\nhad their haire halfe clipped, some had lockes of their legges, some\nvery ugly and evill favoured, that they could scarce see, their eyes\nand face were so blacke and dimme with smoake, like those that fight in\nthe sands, and know not where they strike by reason of dust: And some\nhad their faces all mealy. But how should I speake of the horses my\ncompanions, how they being old and weake, thrust their heads into the\nmanger: they had their neckes all wounded and worne away: they rated\ntheir nosethrilles with a continuall cough, their sides were bare with\ntheir harnesse and great travell, their ribs were broken with beating,\ntheir hooves were battered broad with incessant labour, and their\nskinne rugged by reason of their lancknesse. When I saw this dreadfull\nsight, I began to feare, least I should come to the like state: and\nconsidering with my selfe the good fortune which I was sometime in when\nI was a man, I greatly lamented, holding downe my head, and would eate\nno meate, but I saw no comfort or consolation of my evill fortune,\nsaving that my mind was somewhat recreated to heare and understand what\nevery man said, for they neither feared nor doubted my presence. At\nthat time I remembred how Homer the divine author of ancient Poetry,\ndescribed him to be a wise man, which had travelled divers countries\nand nations, wherefore I gave great thanks to my Asse for me, in that\nby this meanes I had seene the experience of many things, and was\nbecome more wise (notwithstanding the great misery and labour which I\ndaily sustained): but I will tell you a pretty jest, which commeth now\nto my remembrance, to the intent your eares may be delighted in hearing\nthe same.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTIETH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was handled by the Bakers wife, which was a harlot.\n\n\nThe Baker which bought me was an honest and sober man; but his wife was\nthe most pestilent woman in all the world, insomuch that he endured\nmany miseries and afflictions with her, so that I my selfe did secretly\npitty his estate, and bewaile his evill fortune: for she had not one\nfault alone, but all the mischiefes that could be devised: shee was\ncrabbed, cruell, lascivious, drunken, obstinate, niggish, covetous,\nriotous in filthy expenses, and an enemy to faith and chastity, a\ndespise of all the Gods, whom other did honour, one that affirmed that\nshe had a God by her selfe, wherby she deceived all men, but especially\nher poore husband, one that abandoned her body with continuall\nwhoredome. This mischievous queane hated me in such sort, that shee\ncommanded every day before she was up, that I should be put into the\nmill to grind: and the first thing which she would doe in the morning,\nwas to see me cruelly beaten, and that I should grind when the other\nbeasts did feed and take rest. When I saw that I was so cruelly\nhandled, she gave me occasion to learne her conversation and life, for\nI saw oftentimes a yong man which would privily goe into her chamber\nwhose face I did greatly desire to see, but I could not by reason mine\neyes were covered every day. And verily if I had beene free and at\nliberty, I would have discovered all her abhomination. She had an old\nwoman, a bawd, a messenger of mischiefe that daily haunted to her\nhouse, and made good cheere with her to the utter undoing and\nimpoverishment of her husband, but I that was greatly offended with the\nnegligence of Fotis, who made me an Asse, in stead of a Bird, did yet\ncomfort my selfe by this onely meane, in that to the miserable\ndeformity of my shape, I had long eares, whereby I might heare all\nthings that was done: On a day I heard the old bawd say to the Bakers\nwife:\n\nDame you have chosen (without my counsell) a young man to your lover,\nwho as me seemeth, is dull, fearefull, without any grace, and\ndastard-like coucheth at the frowning looke of your odious husband,\nwhereby you have no delight nor pleasure with him: how farre better is\nthe young man Philesiterus who is comely, beautifull, in the flower of\nhis youth, liberall, courteous, valiant and stout against the diligent\npries and watches of your husband, whereby to embrace the worthiest\ndames of this country, and worthy to weare a crowne of gold, for one\npart that he played to one that was jealous over his wife. Hearken how\nit was and then judge the diversity of these two Lovers: Know you not\none Barbarus a Senator of our towne, whom the vulgar people call\nlikewise Scorpion for his severity of manners? This Barbarus had a\ngentlewoman to his wife, whom he caused daily to be enclosed within his\nhouse, with diligent custody. Then the Bakers wife said, I know her\nvery well, for we two dwelleth together in one house: Then you know\n(quoth the old woman) the whole tale of Philesiterus? No verily (said\nshe) but I greatly desire to know it: therefore I pray you mother tell\nme the whole story. By and by the old woman which knew well to babble,\nbegan to tell as followeth.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTY-FIRST CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Barbarus being jealous over his wife, commanded that shee should be\nkept close in his house, and what happened.\n\n\nYou shall understand that on a day this Barbarus preparing himselfe to\nride abroad, and willing to keepe the chastity of his wife (whom he so\nwell loved) alone to himselfe, called his man Myrmex (whose faith he\nhad tryed and proved in many things) and secretly committed to him the\ncustody of his wife, willing him that he should threaten, that if any\nman did but touch her with his finger as he passed by, he would not\nonely put him in prison, and bind him hand and foote, but also cause\nhim to be put to death, or else to be famished for lacke of sustenance,\nwhich words he confirmed by an oath of all the Gods in heaven, and so\ndeparted away: When Barbarus was gone, Myrmex being greatly astonied of\nhis masters threatnings, would not suffer his mistresse to goe abroad,\nbut as she sate all day a Spinning, he was so carefull that he sate by\nher; when night came he went with her to the baines, holding her by the\ngarment, so faithfull he was to fulfill the commandement of his master:\nHowbeit the beauty of this matron could not be hidden from the burning\neyes of Philesiterus, who considering her great chastity and how she\nwas diligently kept by Myrmex, thought it impossible to have his\npurpose, yet (indeavouring by all kind of meanes to enterprise the\nmatter, and remembring the fragility of man, that might be intised and\ncorrupted with money, since as by gold the adamant gates may be opened)\non a day, when he found Myrmex alone, he discovered his love, desiring\nhim to shew his favour, (otherwise he should certainly dye) with\nassurance that he need not to feare when as he might privily be let in\nand out in the night, without knowledge of any person. When he thought,\nwith these and other gentle words to allure and prick forward the\nobstinate mind of Myrmex he shewed him glittering gold in his hand,\nsaying that he would give his mistresse twenty crowns and him ten, but\nMyrmex hearing these words, was greatly troubled, abhorring in his mind\nto commit such a mischiefe: wherfore he stopped his eares, and turning\nhis head departed away: howbeit the glittering view of these crownes\ncould never be out of his mind, but being at home he seemed to see the\nmoney before his eyes, which was so worthy a prey, wherefore poore\nMyrmex being in divers opinions could not tell what to doe, for on the\none side he considered the promise which he made to his master, and the\npunishment that should ensue if he did contrary. On the other side he\nthought of the gaine, and the passing pleasure of the crownes of gold;\nin the end the desire of the money did more prevaile then the feare of\ndeath, for the beauty of the flowrishing crownes did so sticke in his\nmind, that where the menaces of his master compelled him to tarry at\nhome, the pestilent avarice of gold egged him out a doores, wherefore\nputting all shame aside, without further delay, he declared all the\nwhole matter to his Mistresse, who according to the nature of a woman,\nwhen she heard him speake of so great a summe she bound chastity in a\nstring, and gave authority to Myrmex to rule her in that case. Myrmex\nseeing the intent of his Mistresse, was very glad, and for great desire\nof the gold, he ran hastily to Philesiterus, declaring that his\nMistresse was consented to his mind, wherefore he demanded the gold\nwhich he promised. Then incontinently Philesiterus delivered him tenne\nCrownes, and when night came, Myrmex brought him disguised into his\nmistresses Chamber. About Midnight when he and she were naked together,\nmaking sacrifice unto the Goddesse Venus, behold her husband (contrary\nto their expectation) came and knocked at the doore, calling with a\nloud voice to his Servant Myrmex: whose long tarrying increased the\nsuspition of his Master, in such sort that he threatned to beat Myrmex\ncruelly: but he being troubled with feare, and driven to his latter\nshifts, excused the matter saying: that he could not find the key: by\nreason it was so darke. In the meane season Philesiterus hearing the\nnoise at the doore, slipt on his coat and privily ran out of the\nChamber. When Myrmex had opened the doore to his Master that threatned\nterribly, and had let him in, he went into the Chamber to his wife: In\nthe mean while Myrmex let out Philesiterus, and barred the doores fast,\nand went againe to bed. The next morning when Barbarus awaked, he\nperceived two unknown slippers lying under his bed, which Philesiterus\nhad forgotten when he went away. Then he conceived a great suspition\nand jealousie in mind, howbeit he would not discover it to his wife,\nneither to any other person, but putting secretly the slippers into his\nbosome, commanded his other Servants to bind Myrmex incontinently, and\nto bring him bound to the Justice after him, thinking verily that by\nthe meane of the slippers he might boult out the matter. It fortuned\nthat while Barbarus went towards the Justice in a fury and rage, and\nMyrmex fast bound, followed him weeping, not because he was accused\nbefore his master, but by reason he knew his owne conscience guilty:\nbehold by adventure Philesiterus (going about earnest businesse)\nfortuned to meet with them by the way, who fearing the matter which he\ncommitted the night before, and doubting lest it should be knowne, did\nsuddainly invent a meane to excuse Myrmex, for he ran upon him and\nbeate him about the head with his fists, saying: Ah mischievous varlet\nthat thou art, and perjured knave. It were a good deed if the Goddesse\nand thy master here, would put thee to death, for thou art worthy to be\nimprisoned and to weare out these yrons, that stalest my slippers away\nwhen thou werest at my baines yester night. Barbarus hearing this\nreturned incontinently home, and called his servant Myrmex, commanding\nhim to deliver the slippers againe to the right owner.\n\nThe old woman had scant finished her tale when the Bakers wife gan say:\nVerily she is blessed and most blessed, that hath the fruition of so\nworthy a lover, but as for me poore miser, I am fallen into the hands\nof a coward, who is not onely afraid of my husband but also of every\nclap of the mill, and dares not doe nothing, before the blind face of\nyonder scabbed Asse. Then the old woman answered, I promise you\ncertainly if you will, you shall have this young man at your pleasure,\nand therewithall when night came, she departed out of her chamber. In\nthe meane season, the Bakers wife made ready a supper with abundance of\nwine and exquisite fare: so that there lacked nothing, but the comming\nof the young man, for her husband supped at one of her neighbours\nhouses. When time came that my harnesse should be taken off and that I\nshould rest my selfe, I was not so joyfull of my liberty, as when the\nvaile was taken from mine eyes, I should see all the abhomination of\nthis mischievous queane. When night was come and the Sunne gone downe,\nbehold the old bawd and the young man, who seemed to be but a child, by\nreason he had no beard, came to the doore. Then the Bakers wife kissed\nhim a thousand times and received him courteously, placed him downe at\nthe table: but he had scarce eaten the first morsell, when the good man\n(contrary to his wives expectation) returned home, for she thought he\nwould not have come so soone: but Lord how she cursed him, praying God\nthat he might breake his necke at the first entry in. In the meane\nseason, she caught her lover and thrust him into the bin where she\nbolted her flower, and dissembling the matter, finely came to her\nhusband demanding why he came home so soone. I could not abide (quoth\nhe) to see so great a mischiefe and wicked fact, which my neighbours\nwife committed, but I must run away: O harlot as she is, how hath she\ndishonoured her husband, I sweare by the goddesse Ceres, that if I had\n[not] seene it with mine eyes, I would never I have beleeved it. His\nwife desirous to know the matter, desired him to tell what she had\ndone: then hee accorded to the request of his wife, and ignorant of the\nestate of his own house, declared the mischance of another. You shall\nunderstand (quoth he) that the wife of the Fuller my companion, who\nseemed to me a wise and chast woman, regarding her own honesty and\nprofit of her house, was found this night with her knave. For while we\nwent to wash our hands, hee and she were together: who being troubled\nwith our presence ran into a corner, and she thrust him into a mow made\nwith twigs, appoynted to lay on clothes to make them white with the\nsmoake of fume and brymstone. Then she sate down with us at the table\nto colour the matter: in the meane season the young man covered in the\nmow, could not forbeare sneesing, by reason of the smoake of the\nbrymstone. The good man thinking it had beene his wife that sneesed,\ncryed, Christ helpe. But when he sneesed more, he suspected the matter,\nand willing to know who it was, rose from the table, and went to the\nmow, where hee found a young man welnigh dead with smoke. When hee\nunderstood the whole matter, he was so inflamed with anger that he\ncalled for a sword to kill him, and undoubtedly he had killed him, had\nI not restrained his violent hands from his purpose, assuring him, that\nhis enemy would dye with the force of his brimstone, without the harme\nwhich he should doe. Howbeit my words would not appease his fury, but\nas necessity required he tooke the young man well nigh choked, and\ncarried him out at the doores. In the meane season, I counsailed his\nwife to absent her selfe at some of her Neighbours houses, till the\ncholler of her husband was pacified, lest he should be moved against\nher, as he was against the young man. And so being weary of their\nsupper, I forthwith returned home. When the Baker had told his tale,\nhis impudent wife began to curse and abhorre the wife of the Fuller,\nand generally all other wives, which abandon their bodies with any\nother then with their owne Husbands, breaking the faith and bond of\nmarriage, whereby she said, they were worthy to be burned alive. But\nknowing her owne guilty conscience and proper whoredome, lest her lover\nshould be hurt lying in the bin, she willed her husband to goe to bed,\nbut he having eaten nothing, said that he would sup before he went to\nrest: whereby shee was compelled to maugre her eies, to set such things\non the Table as she had prepared for her lover.\n\nBut I, considering the great mischiefe of this wicked queane, devised\nwith my selfe how I might reveale the matter to my Master, and by\nkicking away the cover of the binne (where like a Snaile the young-man\nwas couched) to make her whoredome apparent and knowne. At length I was\nayded by the providence of God, for there was an old man to whom the\ncustody of us was committed, that drave me poore Asse, and the other\nHorses the same time to the water to drinke; then had I good occasion\nministred, to revenge the injury of my master, for as I passed by, I\nperceived the fingers of the young-man upon the side of the binne, and\nlifting up my heeles, I spurned off the flesh with the force of my\nhoofes, whereby he was compelled to cry out, and to throw downe the\nbinne on the ground, and so the whoredome of the Bakers wife was knowne\nand revealed. The Baker seeing this was not a little moved at the\ndishonesty of his wife, but hee tooke the young-man trembling for feare\nby the hand, and with cold and courteous words spake in this sort:\nFeare not my Sonne, nor thinke that I am so barbarous or cruell a\nperson, that I would stiffle thee up with the smoke of Sulphur as our\nneighbour accustometh, nor I will not punish thee according to the\nrigour of the law of Julia, which commandeth the Adulterers should be\nput to death: No no, I will not execute my cruelty against so faire and\ncomely a young man as you be, but we will devide our pleasure betweene\nus, by lying all three in one bed, to the end there may be no debate\nnor dissention betweene us, but that either of us may be contented, for\nI have alwayes lived with my wife in such tranquillity, that according\nto the saying of the wisemen, whatsoever I say, she holdeth for law,\nand indeed equity will not suffer, but that the husband should beare\nmore authority then the wife: with these and like words he led the\nyoung-man to his Chamber, and closed his wife in another Chamber. On\nthe next morrow, he called two of the most sturdiest Servants of his\nhouse, who held up the young man, while he scourged his buttockes\nwelfavouredly with rods like a child. When he had well beaten him, he\nsaid: Art not thou ashamed, thou that art so tender and delicate a\nchild, to desire the violation of honest marriages, and to defame thy\nselfe with wicked living, whereby thou hast gotten the name of an\nAdulterer? After he had spoken these and like words, he whipped him\nagaine, and chased him out of his house. The young-man who was the\ncomeliest of all the adulterers, ran away, and did nothing else that\nnight save onely bewaile his striped and painted buttockes. Soone after\nthe Baker sent one to his wife, who divorced her away in his name, but\nshe beside her owne naturall mischiefe, (offended at this great\ncontumely, though she had worthily deserved the same) had recourse to\nwicked arts and trumpery, never ceasing untill she had found out an\nEnchantresse, who (as it was thought) could doe what she would with her\nSorcery and conjuration. The Bakers wife began to intreate her,\npromising that she would largely recompence her, if shee could bring\none of these things to passe, eyther to make that her husband may be\nreconciled to her againe, or else if hee would not agree thereto, to\nsend an ill spirit into him, to dispossesse the spirit of her husband.\nThen the witch with her abhominable science, began to conjure and to\nmake her Ceremonies, to turne the heart of the Baker to his wife, but\nall was in vaine, wherefore considering on the one side that she could\nnot bring her purpose to passe, and on the other side the losse of her\ngaine, she ran hastily to the Baker, threatning to send an evill spirit\nto kill him, by meane of her conjurations. But peradventure some\nscrupulous reader may demand me a question, how I, being an Asse, and\ntyed alwayes in the mill house, could know the secrets of these women:\nVerily I answer, notwithstanding my shape of an Asse, I had the sence\nand knowledge of a man, and curiously endeavoured to know out such\ninjuries as were done to my master. About noone there came a woman into\nthe Milhouse, very sorrowfull, raggedly attired, with bare feete,\nmeigre, ill-favoured, and her hayre scattering upon her face: This\nwoman tooke the Baker by the hand, and faining that she had some secret\nmatter to tell him, went into a chamber, where they remained a good\nspace, till all the corne was ground, when as the servants were\ncompelled to call their master to give them more corne, but when they\nhad called very often, and no person gave answer, they began to\nmistrust, insomuch that they brake open the doore: when they were come\nin, they could not find the woman, but onely their master hanging dead\nupon a rafter of the chamber, whereupon they cryed and lamented\ngreatly, and according to the custome, when they had washed themselves,\nthey tooke the body and buried it. The next day morrow, the daughter of\nthe Baker, which was married but a little before to one of the next\nVillage, came crying and beating her breast, not because she heard of\nthe death of her father by any man, but because his lamentable spirit,\nwith a halter about his necke appeared to her in the night, declaring\nthe whole circumstance of his death, and how by inchantment he was\ndescended into hell, which caused her to thinke that her father was\ndead. After that she had lamented a good space, and was somewhat\ncomforted by the servants of the house, and when nine dayes were\nexpired, as inheretrix to her father, she sold away all the substance\nof the house, whereby the goods chanced into divers mens hands.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTY-SECOND CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius after the Baker was hanged, was sold to a Gardener, and\nwhat dreadfull things happened.\n\n\nThere was a poore Gardener amongst the rest, which bought me for the\nsumme of fifty pence, which seemed to him a great price, but he thought\nto gayne it againe by the continuall travell of my body. The matter\nrequireth to tell likewise, how I was handled in his service. This\nGardener accustomed to drive me, every morning laded with hearbes to\nthe next Village, and when he had sold his hearbes, hee would mount\nupon my backe and returne to the Garden, and while he digged the ground\nand watered the hearbes, and went about other businesse, I did nothing\nbut repose my selfe with great ease, but when Winter approached with\nsharpe haile, raine and frosts, and I standing under a hedge side, was\nwelnigh killed up with cold, and my master was so poore that he had no\nlodging for himselfe, much lesse had he any littor or place to cover me\nwithall, for he himselfe alwayes lay under a little roofe shadowed with\nboughes. In the morning when I arose, I found my hoofes shriveled\ntogether with cold, and unable to passe upon the sharpe ice, and frosty\nmire, neither could I fill my belly with meate, as I accustomed to doe,\nfor my master and I supped together, and had both one fare: howbeit it\nwas very slender since as wee had nothing else saving old and unsavoury\nsallets which were suffered to grow for seed, like long broomes, and\nthat had lost all their sweet sappe and juice.\n\nIt fortuned on a day that an honest man of the next village was\nbenighted and constrained by reason of the rain to lodge (very lagged\nand weary) in our Garden, where although he was but meanely received,\nyet it served well enough considering time and necessity. This honest\nman to recompence our entertainment, promised to give my master some\ncorne, oyle, and two bottels of wine: wherefore my master not delaying\nthe matter, laded me with sackes and bottels, and rode to the Towne\nwhich was seaven miles off.\n\nWhen we came to the honest mans house, he entertained and feasted my\nmaster exceedingly. And it fortuned while they eate and dranke together\nas signe of great amity there chanced a strange and dreadfull case: for\nthere was a Hen which ran kackling about the yard, as though she would\nhave layed an Egge. The good man of the house perceiving her, said: O\ngood and profitable pullet that feedest us every day with thy fruit,\nthou seemest as though thou wouldest give us some pittance for our\ndinner: Ho boy put the Pannier in the corner that the Hen may lay. Then\nthe boy did as his master commanded, but the Hen forsaking the Pannier,\ncame toward her master and laid at his feet not an Egge, which every\nman knoweth, but a Chickin with feathers, clawes, and eyes, which\nincontinently ran peeping after his damme. By and by happened a more\nstrange thing, which would cause any man to abhorre: under the Table\nwhere they sate, the ground opened, and there appeared a great well and\nfountain of bloud, insomuch that the drops thereof sparckled about the\nTable. At the same time while they wondred at this dreadfull sight one\nof the Servants came running out of the Seller, and told that all the\nwine was boyled out of the vessels, as though there had beene some\ngreat fire under. By and by a Weasel was scene that drew into the house\na dead Serpent, and out of the mouth of a Shepheards dog leaped a live\nfrog, and immediately after one brought word that a Ram had strangled\nthe same dog at one bit. All these things that happened, astonied the\ngood man of the house, and the residue that were present, insomuch that\nthey could not tell what to doe, or with what sacrifice to appease the\nanger of the gods. While every man was thus stroken in feare, behold,\none brought word to the good man of the house, that his three sonnes\nwho had been brought up in good literature, and endued with good\nmanners were dead, for they three had great acquaintance and ancient\namity with a poore man which was their neighbour, and dwelled hard by\nthem: and next unto him dwelled another young man very rich both in\nlands and goods, but bending from the race of his progenies\ndissentions, and ruling himselfe in the towne according to his owne\nwill. This young royster did mortally hate this poore man, insomuch\nthat he would kill his sheepe, steale his oxen, and spoyle his corne\nand other fruits before the time of ripenesse, yet was he not contented\nwith this, but he would encroch upon the poore mans ground, and clayme\nall the heritage as his owne. The poore man which was very simple and\nfearefull, seeing all his goods taken away by the avarice of the rich\nman, called together and assembled many of his friends to shew them all\nhis land, to the end he might have but so much ground of his fathers\nheritage, as might bury him. Amongst whom, he found these three\nbrethren, as friends to helpe and ayd him in his adversity and\ntribulation.\n\nHowbeit, the presence of these honest Citizens, could in no wise\nperswade him to leave his extort power, no nor yet to cause any\ntemperance of his tongue, but the more they went about with gentle\nwords to tell him his faults, the more would he fret and likewise fume,\nswearing all the oathes under God, that he little regarded the presence\nof the whole City, whereupon incontinently he commanded his servants to\ntake the poore man by the eares, and carry him out of his ground, which\ngreatly offended all the standers by. Then one of the brethren spake\nunto him somewhat boldly, saying: It is but a folly to have such\naffiance in your riches, whereby you should use your tyranny against\nthe poore, when as the law is common for all men, and a redresse may be\nhad to suppresse your insolency. These words chafed him more then the\nburning oile, or flaming brimstone, or scourge of whipps, saying: that\nthey should be hanged and their law too, before he would be subject\nunto any person: and therewithall he called out his bandogges and great\nmasties, which accustomed to eate the carrion and carkases of dead\nbeasts in the fields, and to set upon such as passed by the way: then\nhe commanded they should be put upon all the assistance to teare them\nin peeces: who as soone as they heard the hisse of their master, ran\nfiercely upon them invading them on every side, insomuch that the more\nthey flied to escape away, the more cruell and terrible were the\ndogges. It fortuned amongst all this fearefull company, that in\nrunning, the youngest of the three brethren stombled at a stone, and\nfell down to the ground: Then the dogs came upon him and tare him in\npeeces with their teeth, whereby he was compelled to cry for succour:\nHis other two brethren hearing his lamentable voice ran towards him to\nhelpe him, casting their cloakes about their left armes, tooke up\nstones to chase away the dogs, but all was in vaine, for they might see\ntheir brother dismembred in every part of his body: Who lying at the\nvery point of death, desired his brethren to revenge his death against\nthat cruell tyrant: And therewithall he gave up the ghost. The other\ntwo brethren perceiving so great a murther, and neglecting their owne\nlives, like desperate persons dressed themselves against the tyrant,\nand threw a great number of stones at him, but the bloudy theefe\nexercised in such and like mischiefes, tooke a speare and thrust it\ncleane through the body: howbeit he fell not downe to the ground. For\nthe speare that came out at his backe ran into the earth, and sustained\nhim up. By and by came one of these tyrants servants the most sturdiest\nof the rest to helpe his master, who at the first comming tooke up a\nstone and threw at the third brother, but by reason the stone ran along\nhis arme it did not hurt him, which chanced otherwise then all mens\nexpectation was: by and by the young man feigning that his arme was\ngreatly wounded, spake these words unto the cruell bloud sucker: Now\nmaist thou, thou wretch, triumph upon the destruction of all our\nfamily, now hast thou fed thy insatiable cruelty with the bloud of\nthree brethren, now maist thou rejoyce at the fall of us Citizens, yet\nthinke not but that how farre thou dost remove and extend the bounds of\nthy land, thou shalt have some neighbor, but how greatly am I sorry in\nthat I have lost mine arme wherewithall I minded to cut off thy head.\nWhen he had spoken these words, the furious theefe drew out his dagger,\nand running upon the young man thought verily to have slaine him, but\nit chanced otherwise: For the young man resisted him stoutly, and in\nbuckling together by violence wrested the dagger out of his hand: which\ndone, he killed the rich theefe with his owne weapon, and to the intent\nthe young man would escape the hands of the servants which came running\nto assist their master, with the same dagger he cut his owne throat.\nThese things were signified by the strange and dreadfull wondres which\nfortuned in the house of the good man, who after he had heard these\nsorrowfull tydings could in no wise weepe, so farre was he stroken with\ndolour, but presently taking his knife wherewith he cut his cheese and\nother meate before, he cut his owne throat likewise, in such sort that\nhe fell upon the bord and imbraced the table with the streames of his\nblond, in most miserable manner. Hereby was my master the Gardener\ndeprived of his hope, and paying for his dinner the watry teares of his\neyes, mounted upon my backe and so we went homeward the same way as wee\ncame.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTY-THIRD CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was found by his shadow.\n\n\nAs wee passed by the way wee met with a tall souldier (for so his\nhabite and countenance declared) who with proud and arrogant words\nspake to my master in this sort:\n\nQuorsum vacuum ducis Asinum?\n\nMy master somewhat astonied at the strange sights which he saw before,\nand ignorant of the Latine tongue, roade on and spake never a word: The\nsouldier unable to refraine his insolence, and offended at his silence,\nstrake him on the shoulders as he sate on my backe; then my master\ngently made answer that he understood not what he said, whereat the\nsouldier angerly demanded againe, whither he roade with his Asse? Marry\n(quoth he) to the next City: But I (quoth the souldier) have need of\nhis helpe, to carry the trusses of our Captaine from yonder Castle, and\ntherewithall he tooke me by the halter and would violently have taken\nme away: but my master wiping away the blood of the blow which he\nreceived of the souldier, desired him gently and civilly to take some\npitty upon him, and to let him depart with his owne, swearing and\naffirming that his slow Asse, welnigh dead with sicknesse, could scarce\ncarry a few handfuls of hearbs to the next towne, much lesse he was\nable to beare any greater trusses: but when he saw the souldier would\nin no wise be intreated, but ready with his staffe to cleave my masters\nhead, my master fell down at his feete, under colour to move him to\nsome pitty, but when he saw his time, he tooke the souldier by the legs\nand cast him upon the ground: Then he buffetted him, thumped him, bit\nhim, and tooke a stone and beat his face and his sides, that he could\nnot turne and defend himselfe, but onely threaten that if ever he rose,\nhe would choppe him in pieces. The Gardener when he heard him say so,\ndrew out his javelin which hee had by his side, and when he had throwne\nit away, he knockt and beate him more cruelly then he did before,\ninsomuch that the souldier could not tell by what meanes to save\nhimselfe, but by feining that he was dead, Then my master tooke the\njavelin and mounted upon my backe, riding in all hast to the next\nvillage, having no regard to goe to his Garden, and when he came\nthither, he turned into one of his friends house and declared all the\nwhole matter, desiring him to save his life and to hide himselfe and\nhis Asse in some secret place, untill such time as all danger were\npast. Then his friends not forgetting the ancient amity betweene them,\nentertained him willingly and drew me up a paire of staires into a\nchamber, my master crept into a chest, and lay there with the cover\nclosed fast: The souldier (as I afterwards learned) rose up as one\nawaked from a drunken sleepe, but he could scarce goe by reason of his\nwounds: howbeit at length by little and little through ayd of his\nstaffe he came to the towne, but hee would not declare the matter to\nany person nor complaine to any justice, lest he should be accused of\ncowardise or dastardnesse, yet in the end he told some of his\ncompanions of all the matter that happened: then they tooke him and\ncaused him to be closed in some secret place, thinking that beside the\ninjury which he had received, he should be accused of the breach of his\nfaith, by reason of the losse of his speare, and when they had learned\nthe signes of my master, they went to search him out: at last there was\nan unfaithfull neighbour that told them where he was, then\nincontinently the souldiers went to the Justice declaring that they had\nlost by the way a silver goblet of their Captaines, and that a Gardener\nhad found it, who refusing to deliver the goblet, was hidden in one of\nhis friends houses: by and by the Magistrates understanding the losse\nof the Captaine, came to the doores where we were, commanded our host\nto deliver my master upon paine of death: howbeit these threatnings\ncould not enforce him to confesse that he was within his doores, but by\nreason of his faithfull promise and for the safeguard of his friend, he\nsaid, that hee saw not the Gardener a great while, neither knew where\nhe was: the souldiers said contrary, whereby to know the verity of the\nmatter, the Magistrates commanded their Seargants and ministers to\nsearch every corner of the house, but when they could find neither\nGardener nor Asse, there was a great contention betweene the souldiers\nand our Host, for they sayd we were within the house: and he said no,\nbut I that was very curious to know the matter, when I heard so great a\nnoyse, put my head out of the window to learne what the stirre and\ntumult did signifie. It fortuned that one of the souldiers perceived my\nshadow, whereupon he began to cry, saying: that hee had certainly seene\nme; then they were all glad and came up into the chamber, and pulled me\ndowne like a prisoner. When they had found mee, they doubted nothing of\nthe Gardener, but seeking about more narrowly, at length they found him\ncouched in a chest. And so they brought out the poore gardener to the\nJustices, who was committed immediately to prison, but they could never\nforbeare laughing from the time they found me by my shadow, wherefore\nis risen a common Proverbe: \u201cThe shadow of the Asse.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE TENTH BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTY-FOURTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow the souldier drave Apuleius away, and how he came to a Captaines\nhouse, and what happened there.\n\n\nThe next day how my master the Gardener sped, I knew not, but the\ngentle souldier, who was well beaten for his cowardise, lead me to his\nlodging without the contradiction of any man: Where hee laded me well,\nand garnished my body (as seemed to me) like an Asse of armes. For on\nthe one side I bare an helmet that shined exceedingly: On the other\nside a Target that glistered more a thousand folde. And on the top of\nmy burthen he put a long speare, which things he placed thus gallantly,\nnot because he was so expert in warre (for the Gardener proved the\ncontrary) but to the end he might feare those which passed by, when\nthey saw such a similitude of warre. When we had gone a good part of\nour journey, over the plaine and easie fields, we fortuned to come to a\nlittle towne, where we lodged at a certaine Captaines house. And there\nthe souldier tooke me to one of the servants, while he himselfe went\ntowards his captaine; who had the charge of a thousand men. And when we\nhad remained there a few dayes, I understood of a wicked and\nmischievous fact committed there, which I have put in writing to the\nend you may know the same. The master of the house had a sonne\ninstructed in good literature, and endued with vertuous manners, such a\none as you would desire to have the like. Long time before his mother\ndyed, and when his father married a new wife, and had another child of\nthe age of xii. yeares. The stepdame was more excellent in beauty then\nhonesty: for she loved this young man her sonne in law, either because\nshe was unchast by nature, or because she was enforced by fate of\nstepmother, to commit so great a mischiefe. Gentle reader, thou shalt\nnot read of a fable, but rather a tragedy: This woman when her love\nbegan first to kindle in her heart, could easily resist her desire and\ninordinate appetite by reason of shame and feare, lest her intent\nshould be knowne: But after it compassed and burned every part of her\nbrest, she was compelled to yeeld unto the raging flame of Cupid, and\nunder colour of the disease and infirmity of her body, to conceale the\nwound of her restlesse mind. Every man knoweth well the signes and\ntokens of love, and the malady convenient to the same: Her countenance\nwas pale, her eyes sorrowfull, her knees weake, and there was no\ncomfort in her, but continuall weeping and sobbing, insomuch that you\nwould have thought that she had some spice of an ague, saving that she\nwept unmeasurably: the Phisitians knew not her disease, when they felt\nthe beating of her veines, the intemperance of her heart, the sobbing\nsighes, and her often tossing of every side: No, no, the cunning\nPhisitian knew it not, but a scholler of Venus Court might easily\nconjecture the whole. After that she had beene long time tormented in\nher affliction, and was no more able to conceale her ardent desire,\nshee caused her sonne to be called for, (which word son she would faine\nput away if it were not for shame:) Then he nothing disobedient to the\ncommandement of his mother, with a sad and modest countenance, came\ninto the chamber of his stepdame, the mother of his brother, but she\nspeaking never a word was in great doubt what she might doe, and could\nnot tell what to say first, by reason of shame. The young man\nsuspecting no ill, with humble courtesie demanded the cause of her\npresent disease. Then she having found an occasion to utter her intent,\nwith weeping eyes and covered face, began boldly to speake unto him in\nthis manner: Thou, thou, art the originall cause of all my dolour: Thou\nart my comfort and onely health, for those thy comely eyes are so\nenfastned within my brest, that unlesse they succour me, I shall\ncertainly die: Have pitty therefore upon me, be not the occasion of my\ndestruction, neither let my conscience reclaime to offend thy father,\nwhen as thou shalt save the life of thy mother. Moreover since thou\ndost resemble thy fathers shape in every point, it giveth me cause the\nmore to fancy thee: Now is ministred unto thee time and place: Now hast\nthou occasion to worke thy will, seeing that we are alone. And it is a\ncommon saying:\n\nNever knowne, never done.\n\n\nThis young man troubled in mind at so suddaine an ill, although hee\nabhorred to commit so beastly a crime, yet hee would not cast her off\nwith a present deniall, but warily pacified her mind with delay of\npromise. Wherefore he promised to doe all according to her desire: And\nin the meane season, he willed his mother to be of good cheere, and\ncomfort her selfe till as he might find some convenient time to come\nunto her, when his father was ridden forth: Wherewithall hee got him\naway from the pestilent sight of his stepdame. And knowing that this\nmatter touching the ruine of all the whole house needed the counsell of\nwise and grave persons, he went incontinently to a sage old man and\ndeclared the whole circumstance of the matter. The old man after long\ndeliberation, thought there was no better way to avoyd the storme of\ncruell fortune to come, then to run away. In the meane season this\nwicked woman impatient of her love, and the long delay of her sonne,\negged her husband to ride abroad into farre countreyes. And then she\nasked the young-man the accomplishment of his promise, but he to rid\nhimselfe entirely from her hands, would find alwayes excuses, till in\nthe end she understood by the messengers that came in and out, that he\nnothing regarded her. Then she by how much she loved him before, by so\nmuch and more she hated him now. And by and by she called one of her\nservants, ready to all mischiefes: To whom she declared all her\nsecrets. And there it was concluded betweene them two, that the surest\nway was to kill the young man: Whereupon this varlet went incontinently\nto buy poyson, which he mingled with wine, to the intent he would give\nit to the young man to drinke, and thereby presently to kill him. But\nwhile they were in deliberation how they might offer it unto him,\nbehold here happened a strange adventure. For the young sonne of the\nwoman that came from schoole at noone (being very thirsty) tooke the\npot wherein the poyson was mingled, and ignorant of the venim, dranke a\ngood draught thereof, which was prepared to kill his brother: whereby\nhe presently fell downe to the ground dead. His schoolemaster seeing\nhis suddaine change, called his mother, and all the servants of the\nhouse with a lowd voyce. Incontinently every man declared his opinion,\ntouching the death of the child: but the cruell woman the onely example\nof stepmothers malice, was nothing moved by the bitter death of her\nsonne, or by her owne conscience of paracide, or by the misfortune of\nher house, or by the dolour of her husband, but rather devised the\ndestruction of all her family. For by and by shee sent a messenger\nafter her husband to tell him the great misfortune which happened after\nhis departure. And when he came home, the wicked woman declared that\nhis sonne had empoysoned his brother, because he would not consent to\nhis will, and told him divers other leasings, adding in the end that\nhee threatned to kill her likewise, because she discovered the fact:\nThen the unhappy father was stroken with double dolour of the death of\nhis two children, for on the one side he saw his younger sonne slaine\nbefore his eyes, on the other side, he seemed to see the elder\ncondemned to dye for his offence: Againe, where he beheld his wife\nlament in such sort, it gave him further occasion to hate his sonne\nmore deadly; but the funerals of his younger sonne were scarce\nfinished, when the old man the father with weeping eyes even at the\nreturne from the grave, went to the Justice and accused his sonne of\nthe slaughter of his brother, and how he threatned to slay his wife,\nwhereby the rather at his weeping and lamentation, he moved all the\nMagistrates and people to pitty, insomuch that without any delay, or\nfurther inquisition they cryed all that hee should be stoned to death,\nbut the Justices fearing a farther inconvenience to arise by the\nparticular vengeance, and to the end there might fortune no sedition\namongst the people, prayed the decurions and other Officers of the\nCity, that they might proceed by examination of witnesses, and with\norder of justice according to the ancient custome before the judging of\nany hasty sentence or judgment, without the hearing of the contrary\npart, like as the barbarous and cruell tyrants accustome to use:\notherwise they should give an ill example to their successours. This\nopinion pleased every man, wherefore the Senatours and counsellors were\ncalled, who being placed in order according to their dignity, caused\nthe accuser and defender to be brought forth, and by the example of the\nAthenian law, and judgement materiall, their Advocates were commanded\nto plead their causes briefly without preambles or motions of the\npeople to pitty, which were too long a processe. And if you demand how\nI understood all this matter, you shall understand that I heard many\ndeclare the same, but to recite what words the accuser used in his\ninvective, what answer the defender made, the orations and pleadings of\neach party, verily I am not able to doe: for I was fast bound at the\nmanger. But as I learned and knew by others, I will God willing declare\nunto you. So it was ordered, that after the pleadings of both sides was\nended, they thought best to try and boult out the verity by witnesses,\nall presumptions and likelihood set apart, and to call in the servant,\nwho onely was reported to know all the matter: by and by the servant\ncame in, who nothing abashed, at the feare of so great a judgment, or\nat the presence of the Judges, or at his owne guilty conscience, which\nhee so finely fained, but with a bold countenance presented himselfe\nbefore the justices and confirmed the accusation against the young man,\nsaying: O yee judges, on a day when this young man loathed and hated\nhis stepmother, hee called mee, desiring mee to poyson his brother,\nwhereby hee might revenge himselfe, and if I would doe it and keepe the\nmatter secret, hee promised to give me a good reward for my paines: but\nwhen the young man perceived that I would not accord to his will, he\nthreatned to slay mee, whereupon hee went himselfe and bought poyson,\nand after tempered it with wine, and then gave it me to give the child,\nwhich when I refused he offered it to his brother with his own hands.\nWhen the varlet with a trembling countenance had ended these words\nwhich seemed a likelihood of truth, the judgement was ended: neither\nwas there found any judge or counsellor, so mercifull to the young man\naccused, as would not judge him culpable, but that he should be put and\nsowne in a skin, with a dogge, a Cocke, a Snake, and an Ape, according\nto the law against parricides: wherefore they wanted nothing but (as\nthe ancient custome was) to put white stones and black into a pot, and\nto take them out againe, to see whether the young-man accused should be\nacquitted by judgment or condemned, which was a thing irrevocable.\n\nIn the mean season he was delivered to the hands of the executioner.\nBut there arose a sage and ancient Physitian, a man of a good\nconscience and credit throughout all the City, that stopped the mouth\nof the pot wherein the stones were cast, saying: I am right glad ye\nreverend judges, that I am a man of name and estimation amongst you,\nwhereby I am accompted such a one as will not suffer any person to be\nput to death by false and untrue accusations, considering there hath\nbin no homicide or murther committed by this yong man in this case,\nneither you (being sworn to judge uprightly) to be misinformed and\nabused by invented lyes and tales. For I cannot but declare and open my\nconscience, least I should be found to beare small honour and faith to\nthe Gods, wherefore I pray you give eare, and I will shew you the whole\ntruth of the matter. You shall understand that this servant which hath\nmerited to be hanged, came one of these dayes to speake with me,\npromising to give me a hundred crownes, if I would give him present\npoyson, which would cause a man to dye suddenly, saying, that he would\nhave it for one that was sicke of an incurable disease, to the end he\nmight be delivered from all torment, but I smelling his crafty and\nsubtill fetch, and fearing least he would worke some mischiefe withall,\ngave him a drinke; but to the intent I might cleare my selfe from all\ndanger that might happen, I would not presently take the money which he\noffered. But least any of the crownes should lacke weight or be found\ncounterfeit, I willed him to scale the purse wherein they were put,\nwith his manuell signe, whereby the next day we might goe together to\nthe Goldsmith to try them, which he did; wherefore understanding that\nhe was brought present before you this day, I hastily commanded one of\nmy servants to fetch the purse which he had sealed, and here I bring it\nunto you to see whether he will deny his owne signe or no: and you may\neasily conject that his words are untrue, which he alleadged against\nthe young man, touching the buying of the poyson, considering hee\nbought the poyson himselfe. When the Physitian had spoken these words\nyou might perceive how the trayterous knave changed his colour, how hee\nsweat for feare, how he trembled in every part of his body: and how he\nset one leg upon another, scratching Ibis head and grinding his teeth,\nwhereby there was no person but would judge him culpable. In the end,\nwhen he was somewhat returned to his former subtility, he began to deny\nall that was said, and stoutly affirmed, that the Physitian did lye.\nBut the Physitian perceiving that he was rayled at and his words\ndenyed, did never cease to confirme his sayings, and to disprove the\nvarlet, till such time as the Officers by the commandment of the\nJudges, bound his hands and brought out the seale, wherewith he had\nsealed the purse which augmented suspition which was conceived of him\nfirst. Howbeit, neither the feare of the wheele or any other torment\naccording to the use of the Grecians, which were ready prepared, no,\nnor yet the fire could enforce him to confesse the matter, so obstinate\nand grounded was he in his mischievous mind. But the Physitian\nperceiving that the menaces of these torments did nothing prevaile, gan\nsay: I cannot suffer or abide that this young man who is innocent,\nshould against all law and conscience, be punished and condemned to\ndie, and the other which is culpable, should escape so easily, and\nafter mocke and flowte at your judgement: for I will give you an\nevident proofe and argument of this present crime. You shall\nunderstand, that when this caytiffe demanded of me a present and strong\npoyson, considering that it was not my part to give occasion of any\nothers death, but rather to cure and save sicke persons by meane of\nmedicines: and on the other side, fearing least if I should deny his\nrequest, I might minister a further cause of his mischiefe, either that\nhe would buy poyson of some other, or else returne and worke his wicked\nintent, with a sword or some dangerous weapon, I gave him no poyson,\nbut a doling drinke of Mandragora, which is of such force, that it will\ncause any man to sleepe as though he were dead. Neither is it any\nmarvaile if this most desperate man, who is certainly assured to be put\nto death, ordained by an ancient custome, can suffer and abide these\nfacill and easie torments, but if it be so that the child hath received\nthe drinke as I tempered it with mine owne hands, he is yet alive and\ndoth but sleepe, and after his sleepe he shall returne to life againe,\nbut if he be dead indeed, then may you further enquire of the causes of\nhis death. The opinion of this ancient Physitian was found good, and\nevery man had a desire to goe to the Sepulchre where the child was\nlayd; there was none of the Justices, none of any reputation of the\ntowne, nor any of the common people, but went to see this strange\nsight. Amongst them all the father of the child remooved with his owne\nhands the stone of the Sepulchre, and found his Sonne rising up after\nhis dead and soporiferous sleepe, whom when he beheld, he imbraced him\nin his armes, and presented him before the people, with great joy and\nconsolation, and as he was wrapped and bound in his grave, so he\nbrought him before the Judges, whereupon the wickednesse of the\nServant, and, the treason of the stepdame was plainely discovered, and\nthe verity of the matter revealed, whereby the woman was perpetually\nexiled, the Servant hanged on a Gallowes, and the Physitian had the\nCrownes, which was prepared to buy the poyson. Behold how the fortune\nof the old man was changed, who thinking to be deprived of all his race\nand posterity, was in one moment made the Father of two Children. But\nas for me, I was ruled and handled by fortune, according to her\npleasure.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTY-FIFTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was sold to two brethren, whereof one was a Baker, and the\nother a Cooke, and how finely and daintily he fared.\n\n\nTHE Souldier that payed never a peny for me, by the commandement of his\nCaptaine was sent unto Rome, to cary Letters to the great Prince, and\nGenerall of the Campe. Before he went, he sold me for eleven pence to\ntwo of his Companions, being Servants to a man of worship, whereof one\nwas a Baker that baked sweet bread and delicates, the other a Cooke,\nwhich dressed fine and excellent meats for his Master. These two lived\nin common, and would drive me from place to place, to carry such things\nas was necessary, insomuch that I was received by these two, as a third\nBrother, and Companion, and I thought I was never better placed, then\nwith them: for when night came that Supper was done, and their\nbusinesse ended, they would bring many good morsels into their Chamber\nfor themselves. One would bring Pigs, Chickens, fish, and other good\nmeates, the other fine bread, pasties, tarts, custards and other\ndelicate Junkets dipped in hony. And when they had shut their chamber\ndoore, and went to the bains: (O Lord) how I would fill my guts with\nthese goodly dishes: neither was I so much a foole, or so very an Asse,\nto leave the dainty meats, and to grind my teeth upon hard hay. In this\nsort I continued a great space, for I played the honest Asse, taking\nbut a little of one dish, and a little of another, wherby no man\ndistrusted me. In the end, I was more hardier and began to devoure the\nwhole messes of the sweet delicates, which caused the Baker and the\nCooke to suspect, howbeit they nothing mistrusted me, but searched\nabout to apprehend the theefe. At length they began to accuse one\nanother of theft, and to set the dishes and morsels of meat in order,\none by another, because they would learne what was taken away, whereby\none of them was compelled to say thus to his fellow: Is it reason to\nbreake promise and faith in this sort, by stealing away the best meat,\nand to sell it to augment thy good, and yet neverthelesse to have thy\npart in the residue that is left: if our partnership doe mislike thee,\nwe will be partners and brothers in other things, but in this we will\nbreake of: for I perceive that the great losse which I sustain, will at\nlength be a cause of great discord betweene us. Then answered the\nother, Verily I praise thy great constancy and subtilnesse, in that\n(when thou hast secretly taken away the meat) [thou] dost begin to\ncomplaine first, whereas I by long space of time have suffered thee,\nbecause I would not seeme to accuse my brother of theft, but I am right\nglad in that wee are fallen into communication of the matter, least by\nour silence, like contention might arise betweene us, as fortuned\nbetweene Eteocles and his Brother. When they had reasoned together in\nthis sort, they swore both earnestly, that neither of them stale or\ntooke away any jote of the meate, wherefore they concluded to search\nout the Theefe by all kind of meanes. For they could not imagin or\nthinke, the Asse who stood alone there, would eate any such meates,\nneither could they thinke that Mice or Flyes, were so ravenous, as to\ndevouer whole dishes of meat, like the Birds Harpies which carried away\nthe meates of Phineus the King of Archadia. In the Meane season while I\nwas fed with dainty morsels, I gathered together my flesh, my skin\nwaxed soft, my haire began to shine, and was gallant on every part, but\nsuch faire and comely shape of my body, was cause of my dishonour, for\nthe Baker and Cooke marvelled to see me so slick and fine, considering\nI did eate no hay at all. Wherefore on a time at their accustomed\nhoure, they went to the baines, and locked their chamber doore. It\nfortuned that ere they departed away, they espyed me through a hole,\nhow I fell roundly to my victuals: then they marvelled greatly, and\nlittle esteemed the losse of their meate, laughed exceedingly, calling\nthe servants of the house, to shew them the greedy gorge and appetite\nof the Asse. Their laughing was so immoderate that the master of the\nhouse heard them, and demanded the cause of their laughter, and when\nhee understood all the matter, hee looked through the hole likewise,\nwherewith he took such a delectation that hee commanded the doore to be\nopened, that hee might see mee at his pleasure. Then I perceiving every\nman laugh, was nothing abashed, but rather more bold, whereby I never\nrested eating, till such time as the master of the house commanded me\nto be brought into his parler as a novelty, and there caused all kinds\nof meates which were never touched to be set on the table, which\n(although I had eaten sufficiently before, yet to win the further\nfavour of the master of the house) I did greedily devoure and made a\ncleane riddance of all the delicate meates. And to prove my nature\nwholly, they gave mee such meates as every Asse doth abhorre: for they\nput before mee beefe and vinegar, birds and pepper, fish and verjuice:\nin the meane season they that beheld mee at the table did nothing but\nlaugh. Then one of the servants of the house sayd to his master, I pray\nyou sir give him some drinke to his supper: Marry (quoth hee) I thinke\nthou saist true, for it may be, that to his meate hee would drinke\nlikewise a cup of wine. Hoe boy, wash yonder pot, and fill it with\nwine, which done, carry it to the Asse, and say that I have drunke to\nhim. Then all the standers by looked on, to see what would come to\npasse: but I (as soone as I beheld the cup) staied not long, but\ngathering my lips together, supped up all the wine at one draught. The\nmaster being right joyfull hereat caused the Baker and Cooke which had\nbought me, to come before him, to whom he delivered foure times as much\nfor me, as they paid, which done he committed me to one of his rich\nLibertines, and charged him to looke well to me, and that I should\nlacke nothing, who obeied his masters commandement in every point: and\nto the end he would creepe further into his favour, he taught me a\nthousand qualities. First he instructed me to sit at the table upon my\ntaile, and how I should leape and dance, holding up my former feete:\nmoreover hee taught me how I should answer when any body spake unto me,\nwith nodding my head, which was a strange and marvailous thing, and if\nI did lacke drinke, I should looke still upon the pot. All which things\nI did willingly bring to passe, and obeyed his doctrine: howbeit, I\ncould have done all these things without his teaching, but I feared\ngreatly lest in shewing my selfe cunning without a master, I should\npretend some great and strange wonder, and thereby be throwne out to\nwild beasts. But my fame was spred about in every place, and the\nqualities which I could doe, insomuch that my master was renowned\nthroughout all the Country by reason of mee. For every man would say:\nBehold the Gentleman that hath an Asse, that will eate and drinke with\nhim, that will dance, and understand what is said to him, will shew his\nfantasie by signes. But first I will tell you (which I should have done\nbefore) who my master was, and of what country. His name was Thiasus,\nhee was borne at Corinth, which is a principall towne of Achaia, and he\nhad passed many offices of honor, till hee had taken upon him the\ndegree Quinquenuall, according as his birth and dignity required, who\nto shew his worthinesse, and to purchase the benevolence of every\nperson, appointed publike joyes and triumphs, to endure the space of\nthree dayes, and to bring his endeavour to passe, he came into Thessaly\nto buy excellent Beasts, and valiant fighters for the purpose.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTY-SIXTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow a certaine Matron fell in love with Apuleius, how hee had his\npleasure with her, and what other things happened.\n\n\nWhen he had bought such things as was necessary, he would not returne\nhome into his Countrey in Chariots, or waggon, neither would he ride\nupon Thessalian Horses, or Jenets of France, or Spanish Mules, which be\nmost excellent as can be found, but caused me to be garnished and\ntrimmed with trappers and barbs of Gold, with brave harnesse, with\npurple coverings, with a bridle of silver, with pictured cloths, and\nwith shrilling bells, and in this manner he rode upon me lovingly,\nspeaking and intreating me with gentle words, but above all things he\ndid greatly rejoyce in that I was his Servant to beare him upon my\nbacke, and his Companion to feed with him at the Table: After long time\nwhen we had travelled as well by Sea as Land, and fortuned to arrive at\nCorinth, the people of the Towne came about us on every side, not so\nmuch to doe honour to Thiasus, as to see me: For my fame was so greatly\nspread there, that I gained my master much money, and when the people\nwas desirous to see me play prankes, they caused the Gates to be shut,\nand such as entered in should pay money, by meanes whereof I was a\nprofitable companion to them every day: There fortuned to be amongst\nthe Assembly a noble and rich Matron that conceived much delight to\nbehold me, and could find no remedy to her passions and disordinate\nappetite, but continually desired to have her pleasure with me, as\nPasiphae had with a Bull. In the end she promised a great reward to my\nkeeper for the custody of me one night, who for gaine of a little money\naccorded to her desire, and when I had supped in a Parler with my\nMaster, we departed away and went into our Chamber, where we found the\nfaire Matron, who had tarried a great space for our comming: I am not\nable to recite unto you how all things were prepared: there were foure\nEunuches that lay on a bed of downe on the ground with Boulsters\naccordingly for us to lye on, the Coverlet was of cloth of Gold, and\nthe pillowes soft and tender, whereon the delicate Matron had\naccustomed to lay her head. Then the Eunuches not minding to delay any\nlonger the pleasure of their Mistresse closed the doores of the Chamber\nand departed away: within the Chamber were Lamps that gave a cleare\nlight all the place over: Then she put off all her Garments to her\nnaked skinne, and taking the Lampe that stood next to her, began to\nannoint all her body with balme, and mine likewise, but especially my\nnose, which done, she kissed me, not as they accustome to doe at the\nstews, or in brothel houses, or in the Curtain Schools for gaine of\nmoney, but purely, sincerely, and with great affection, casting out\nthese and like loving words: Thou art he whom I love, thou art he whom\nI onely desire, without thee I cannot live, and other like preamble of\ntalke as women can use well enough, when as they mind to shew or\ndeclare their burning passions and great affection of love: Then she\ntooke me by the halter and cast me downe upon the bed, which was\nnothing strange unto me, considering that she was so beautifull a\nMatron and I so wel bolded out with wine, and perfumed with balme,\nwhereby I was readily prepared for the purpose: But nothing grieved me\nso much as to think, how I should with my huge and great legs imbrace\nso faire a Matron, or how I should touch her fine, dainty, and silken\nskinne, with my hard hoofes, or how it was possible to kisse her soft,\npretty and ruddy lips, with my monstrous mouth and stony teeth, or how\nshe, who was young and tender, could be able to receive me.\n\nAnd I verily thought, if I should hurt the woman by any kind of meane,\nI should be throwne to the wild Beasts: But in the meane season she\nkissed me, and looked in my mouth with burning eyes, saying: I hold\nthee my canny, I hold thee my noose, my sparrow, and therewithall she\neftsoones imbraced my body round about, and had her pleasure with me,\nwhereby I thought the mother of Miniatures did not ceaseless quench her\ninordinate desire with a Bull. When night was passed, with much joy and\nsmall sleepe, the Matron went before day to my keeper to bargain with\nhim another night, which he willingly granted, partly for gaine of\nmoney, and partly to finde new pastime for my master. Who after he was\ninformed of all the history of my luxury, was right glad, and rewarded\nmy keeper well for his paine, minding to shew before the face of all\nthe people, what I could doe: but because they would not suffer the\nMatron to abide such shame, by reason of her dignity, and because they\ncould finde no other that would endeavour so great a reproach, at\nlength they obtained for money a poore woman, which was condemned to be\neaten of wilde beasts, with whom I should openly have to doe: But first\nI will tell you what tale I heard concerning this woman. This woman had\na husband, whose father minding to ride forth, commanded his wife which\nhe left at home great with child, that if she were delivered of a\ndaughter, it should incontinently be killed. When the time of her\ndelivery came, it fortuned that she had a daughter, whom she would not\nsuffer to be slaine, by reason of the naturall affection which she have\nunto her child, but secretly committed her to one of her neighbours to\nnurse. And when her husband returned home, shee declared unto him that\nshee was delivered of a daughter, whom (as hee commanded), shee had\ncaused to be put to death. But when this child came to age, and ready\nto be married, the mother knew not by what meanes shee should endow her\ndaughter, but that her husband should understand and perceive it.\nWherefore shee discovered the matter to her sonne, who was the husband\nof this woman, condemned to be eaten of wild beasts: For shee greatly\nfeared least hee should unawares fancie or fall in love with his owne\nsister. The young man understanding the whole matter (to please and\ngratify his mother) went immediately to the young maiden, keeping the\nmatter secret in his heart, for feare of inconvenience, and (lamenting\nto see his sister forsaken both of mother and father) incontinently\nafter endowed her with part of his owne goods, and would have married\nher to one of his especial and trusty friends: But although hee brought\nthis to passe very secretly and sagely, yet in the end cruell fortune\nsowed great sedition in his house. For his wife who was now condemned\nto beasts, waxed jealous of her husband and began to suspect the young\nwoman as a harlot and common queane, insomuch that shee invented all\nmanner of meanes to dispatch her out of the way. And in the end shee\ninvented this kind of mischiefe: She privily stale away her husbands\nring, and went into the country, whereas she commanded one of her\ntrusty servants to take the ring and carry it to the mayden. To whom he\nshould declare that her brother did pray her to come into the country\nto him, and that she should come alone without any person. And to the\nend shee should not delay but come with all speed he should deliver her\nthe ring, which should be a sufficient testimony of the message. This\nmayden as soone as she had received the ring of her brother, being very\nwilling and desirous to obey his commandement: (For she knew no\notherwise but that he had sent for her) went in all hast as the\nmessenger willed her to doe. But when she was come to the snare and\nengine which was prepared for her, the mischievous woman, like one that\nwere mad, and possessed with some ill spirit, when the poore maiden\ncalled for helpe with a loud voyce to her brother, the wicked harlot\n(weening that she had invented and feined the matter) tooke a burning\nfirebrand and thrust it into her secret place, whereby she died\nmiserably. The husband of this maiden but especially her brother,\nadvertised of her death, came to the place where she was slain, and\nafter great lamentation and weeping, they caused her to be buried\nhonourably. This yong man her brother taking in ill part the miserable\ndeath of his sister, as it was convenient he should, conceived so great\ndolour within his mind and was strucken with so pestilent fury of\nbitter anguish, that he fell into the burning passions of a dangerous\nague, whereby he seemed in such necessity, that he needed to have some\nspeedy remedy to save his life. The woman that slew the Maiden having\nlost the name of wife together with her faith, went to a traiterous\nPhysician, who had killed a great many persons in his dayes and\npromised him fifty peeces of Gold, if he would give her a present\npoyson to kill her husband out of hand, but in presence of her Husband,\nshe feined that it was necessary for him to receive a certaine kind of\ndrink, which the Maisters and Doctours of Physicke doe call a sacred\nPotion, to the intent he might purge Choller and scoure the interiour\nparts of his body. But the Physitian in stead of that drinke prepared a\nmortall and deadly poyson, and when he had tempered it accordingly, he\ntooke the pot in the presence of the family, and other neighbours and\nfriends of the sick yong man, and offered it to his patient. But the\nbold and hardy woman, to the end she might accomplish her wicked\nintent, and also gaine the money which she had promised the Physitian,\nstaid the pot with her hand, saying: I pray you master Physitian,\nminister not this drinke unto my deare Husband, untill such time as you\nhave drunke some part thereof your selfe: For what know I, whether you\nhave mingled any poyson in the drinke or no, wherein I would have you\nnot to be offended: For I know that you are a man of wisedome and\nlearning, but this I do to the intent the conscience and love that I\nbeare to the health and safeguard of my husband, may be apparent. The\nPhysitian being greatly troubled at the wickednesse of this mischievous\nwoman, as voyd of all counsell and leysure to consider of the matter,\nand least he might give any cause of suspition to the standers by, or\nshew any scruple of his guilty conscience, by reason of long delay,\ntooke the pot in his hand, and presently drunke a good draught thereof,\nwhich done, the young man having no mistrust, drunke up the residue.\nThe Physitian would have gone immediately home to receive a\ncounterpoyson, to expell and drive out the first poyson: But the wicked\nwoman persevering in her mischiefe, would not suffer him to depart a\nfoot, untill such time as the poyson began to worke in him, and then by\nmuch prayer and intercession she licensed him to goe home: By the way\nthe poyson invaded the intrailes and bowels of the whole body of the\nPhysitian, in such sort that with great paine he came to his owne\nhouse, where he had scarce time to speake to his wife, and to will her\nto receive the promised salitary of the death of two persons, but he\nyeelded up the ghost: And the other young man lived not long after, but\nlikewise dyed, amongst the feined and deceitfull teares of his cursed\nwife. A few dayes after, when the young man was buried and the funerall\nended, the Physitians wife demanded of her the fifty peeces of gold\nwhich she promised her husband for the drinke, whereat the ill disposed\nwoman, with resemblance of honesty, answered her with gentle words, and\npromised to give her the fifty peeces of gold, if she would fetch her a\nlittle of that same drinke, to proceed and make an end of all her\nenterprise. The Physitians wife partly to winne the further favour of\nthis rich woman, and partly to gaine the money, ranne incontinently\nhome, and brought her a whole roote of poyson, which when she saw,\nhaving now occasion to execute her further malice, and to finish the\ndamnable plot, began to stretch out her bloody hands to murther. She\nhad a daughter by her husband (that was poysoned) who according to\norder of law, was appointed heire of all the lands and goods of her\nfather: but this woman knowing that the mothers succoured their\nchildren, and received all their goods after their death, purposed to\nshew her selfe a like parent to her child, as she was a wife to her\nhusband, whereupon she prepared a dinner with her owne hands, and\nempoysoned both the wife of the Physitian and her owne daughter: The\nchild being young and tender dyed incontinently by force of the drinke,\nbut the Physitians wife being stout and strong of complexion, feeling\nthe poison to trill down into her body, doubted the matter, and\nthereupon knowing of certainty that she had received her bane, ran\nforthwith to the judges house, that what with her cryes, and\nexclamations, she raised up the people of the towne, and promising them\nto shew divers wicked and mischievous acts, caused that the doores and\ngates were opened. When she came in she declared from the beginning to\nthe end the abhomination of this woman: but shee had scarce ended her\ntale, when opening her falling lips, and grinding her teeth together,\nshe fell downe dead before the face of the Judge, who incontinently to\ntry the truth of the matter, caused the cursed woman, and her servants\nto be pulled out of the house, and enforced by paine of torment to\nconfesse the verity, which being knowne, this mischievous woman farre\nlesse then she deserved, but because there could be no more cruell a\ndeath invented for the quality of her offence, was condemned to be\neaten with wild beasts. Behold with this woman was I appointed to have\nto doe before the face of the people, but I being wrapped in great\nanguish, and envying the day of the triumph, when we two should so\nabandon our selves together, devised rather to sley my selfe, then to\npollute my body with this mischievous harlot, and so for ever to\nremaine defamed: but it was impossible for me so to doe, considering\nthat I lacked hands, and was not able to hold a knife in my hoofes:\nhowbeit standing in a pretty cabin, I rejoyced in my selfe to see that\nspring time was come, and that all things flourished, and that I was in\ngood hope to find some Roses, to render me my humane shape. When the\nday of triumph came, I was led with great pompe and benevolence to the\nappointed place, where when I was brought, I first saw the preamble of\nthat triumph, dedicated with dancers and merry taunting jests, and in\nthe meane season was placed before the gate of the Theater, whereas on\nthe one side I saw the greene and fresh grasse growing before the entry\nthereof, whereon I greatly desired to feed: on the other side I\nconceived a great delectation to see when the Theater gates were\nopened, how all things was finely prepared and set forth: For there I\nmight see young children and maidens in the flowre of their youth of\nexcellent beauty, and attired gorgiously, dancing and mooved in comely\norder, according to the order of Grecia, for sometime they would dance\nin length, sometime round together, sometime divide themselves into\nfoure parts, and sometime loose hands on every side: but when the\ntrumpet gave warning that every man should retire to his place, then\nbegan the triumph to appeare. First there was a hill of wood, not much\nunlike that which the Poet Homer called Idea, for it was garnished\nabout with all sort of greene verdures and lively trees, from the top\nwhereof ran downe a cleare and fresh fountaine, nourishing the waters\nbelow, about which wood were many young and tender Goates, plucking and\nfeeding daintily on the budding trees, then came a young man a\nshepheard representing Paris, richly arrayed with vestments of Barbary,\nhaving a mitre of gold upon his head, and seeming as though he kept the\ngoates. After him ensued another young man all naked, saving that his\nleft shoulder was covered with a rich cloake, and his head shining with\nglistering haires, and hanging downe, through which you might perceive\ntwo little wings, whereby you might conjecture that he was Mercury,\nwith his rod called Caduceus, he bare in his right hand an Apple of\ngold, and with a seemely gate went towards him that represented Paris,\nand after hee had delivered him the Apple, he made a signe, signifying\nthat Jupiter had commanded him so to doe: when he had done his message\nhe departed away. And by and by, there approached a faire and comely\nmayden, not much unlike to Juno, for she had a Diademe of gold upon her\nhead, and in her hand she bare a regall scepter: then followed another\nresembling Pallas, for she had on her head a shining sallet, whereon\nwas bound a garland of Olive branches, having in one hand a target or\nshield: and in the other a speare as though she would fight: then came\nanother which passed the other in beauty, and presented the Goddesse\nVenus, with the color of Ambrosia, when she was a maiden, and to the\nend she would shew her perfect beauty, shee appeared all naked, saving\nthat her fine and dainty skin was covered with a thin smocke, which the\nwind blew hither and thither to testifie the youth and flowre of the\nage of the dame. Her colour was of two sorts, for her body was white as\ndescended from heaven, and her smocke was blewish, as arrived from the\nsea: After every one of the Virgins which seemed goddesses, followed\ncertaine waiting servants, Castor and Pollus went behind Juno, having\non their heads helmets covered with starres. This Virgin Juno sounded a\nFlute, which shee bare in her hand, and mooved her selfe towards the\nshepheard Paris, shewing by honest signes and tokens, and promising\nthat hee should be Lord of all Asia, if hee would judge her the fairest\nof the three, and to give her the apple of gold: the other maiden which\nseemed by her armour to be Pallas, was accompanied with two young men\narmed, and brandishing their naked swords in their hands, whereof one\nnamed Terror, and the other Feare; behind them approached one sounding\nhis trumpet to provoke and stirre men to battell; this maiden began to\ndance and shake her head, throwing her fierce and terrible eyes upon\nParis and promising that if it pleased him to give her the victory of\nbeauty, shee would make him the most strong and victorious man alive.\nThen came Venus and presented her selfe in the middle of the Theater,\nwith much favour of all the people, for shee was accompanied with a\ngreat many of youth, whereby you would have judged them all to be\nCupidoes, either to have flowne from heaven or else from the river of\nthe sea, for they had wings, arrowes, and the residue of their habit\naccording in each point, and they bare in their hands torches lighted,\nas though it had beene a day of marriage. Then came in a great\nmultitude of faire maidens: on the one side were the most comely\nGraces: on the other side, the most beautifull Houres carrying garlands\nand loose flowers, and making great honor to the goddesse of pleasure;\nthe flutes and Pipes yeelded out the sweet sound of Lydians, whereby\nthey pleased the minds of the standers by exceedingly, but the more\npleasing Venus mooved forward more and more, and shaking her head\nanswered by her motion and gesture, to the sound of the instruments.\nFor sometimes she would winke gently, sometimes threaten and looke\naspishly, and sometimes dance onely with her eyes: As soone as she was\ncome before the Judge, she made a signe and token to give him the most\nfairest spouse of all the world, if he would prefer her above the\nresidue of the goddesses. Then the young Phrygian shepheard Paris with\na willing mind delivered the golden Apple to Venus, which was the\nvictory of beauty.\n\nWhy doe ye marvell, ye Orators, ye Lawyers, and Advocates, if many of\nour judges now a daies sell their judgements for money, when as in the\nbeginning of the world one onely Grace corrupted the sentence betweene\nGod and men, and that one rusticall Judge and shepheard appointed by\nthe counsell of great Jupiter, sold his judgement for a little\npleasure, which was the cause afterward of the ruine of all his\nprogeny? By like manner of meane, was sentence given between the noble\nGreekes: For the noble and valiant personage Palamedes was convicted\nand attainted of treason, by false perswasion and accusation, and\nUlisses being but of base condition, was preferred in Martiall prowesse\nabove great Ajax. What judgement was there likewise amongst the\nAthenian lawyers, sage and expert in all sciences? Was not Socrates who\nwas preferred by Apollo, above all the wise men in the world, by envy\nand malice of wicked persons impoysoned with the herbe Cicuta, as one\nthat corrupted the youth of the countrey, whom alwaies be kept under by\ncorrection? For we see now a dayes many excellent Philosophers greatly\ndesire to follow his sect, and by perpetual study to value and revolve\nhis workes, but to the end I may not be reproved of indignation by any\none that might say: What, shall we suffer an Asse to play the\nPhilosopher? I will returne to my further purpose.\n\nAfter the judgement of Paris was ended, Juno and Pallas departed away\nangerly, shewing by their gesture, that they would revenge themselves\non Paris, but Venus that was right pleased and glad in her heart,\ndanced about the Theater with much joy. This done from the top of the\nhill through a privy spout, ran a floud of the colour of Saffron, which\nfell upon the Goates, and changed their white haire into yellow, with a\nsweet odour to all them of the Theater. By and by after by certaine\nengines, the ground opened, and swallowed up the hill of wood: and then\nbehold there came a man of armes through the multitude, demanding by\nthe consent of the people, the woman who was condemned to the beasts,\nand appointed for me to have to doe withall: our bed was finely and\nbravely prepared, and covered with silke and other things necessary.\nBut I, beside the shame to commit this horrible fact, and to pollute my\nbody with this wicked harlot did greatly feare the danger of death: for\nI thought in my selfe, that when she and I were together, the savage\nbeast appointed to devoure the woman, was not so instructed and taught,\nor would so temper his greedinesse, as that hee would teare her in\npeeces lying under mee, and spare mee with a regard of mine innocency.\nWherefore I was more carefull for the safeguard of my life, then for\nthe shame that I should abide, but in the meane season while my master\nmade ready the bed, all the residue did greatly delight to see the\nhunting and pleasantnesse of the triumph, I began to thinke and devise\nfor my selfe. When I perceived that no man had regard to mee, that was\nso tame and gentle an Asse, I stole out of the gate that was next me,\nand then I ran away with all force, and came to Cenchris, which is the\nmost famous towne of all the Carthaginians, bordering upon the Seas\ncalled Ageum, and Saronicum, where is a great and mighty Haven,\nfrequented with many a sundry Nation. There because I would avoyd the\nmultitude of the people, I went to a secret place of the Sea coast,\nwhere I laid me down upon the sand, to ease and refresh my selfe, for\nthe day was past and the Sunne gone downe, and lying in this sort on\nthe ground, did fall in a sound sleepe.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELEVENTH BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius by Roses and prayer returned to his humane shape.\n\n\nWhen midnight came that I had slept my first sleepe, I awaked with\nsuddaine feare, and saw the Moone shining bright, as when shee is at\nthe full, and seeming as though she leaped out of the Sea. Then thought\nI with my selfe, that was the most secret time, when the goddesse Ceres\nhad most puissance and force, considering that all humane things be\ngoverned by her providence: and not onely all beasts private and tame,\nbut also all wild and savage beasts be under her protection. And\nconsidering that all bodies in the heavens, the earth and the seas, be\nby her increasing motions increased, and by her diminishing motions\ndiminished: as weary of all my cruell fortune and calamity, I found\ngood hope and soveraigne remedy, though it were very late, to be\ndelivered from all my misery, by invocation and prayer, to the\nexcellent beauty of the Goddesse, whom I saw shining before mine eyes,\nwherefore shaking off mine Assie and drowsie sleepe, I arose with a\njoyfull face, and mooved by a great affection to purifie my selfe, I\nplunged my selfe seven times into the water of the Sea, which number of\nseven is conveniable and agreeable to holy and divine things, as the\nworthy and sage Philosopher Pythagoras hath declared. Then with a\nweeping countenance, I made this Orison to the puissant Goddesse,\nsaying: O blessed Queene of heaven, whether thou be the Dame Ceres\nwhich art the originall and motherly nource of all fruitfull things in\nearth, who after the finding of thy daughter Proserpina, through the\ngreat joy which thou diddest presently conceive, madest barraine and\nunfruitfull ground to be plowed and sowne, and now thou inhabitest in\nthe land of Eleusie; or whether thou be the celestiall Venus, who in\nthe beginning of the world diddest couple together all kind of things\nwith an ingendered love, by an eternall propagation of humane kind, art\nnow worshipped within the Temples of the Ile Paphos, thou which art the\nsister of the God Phoebus, who nourishest so many people by the\ngeneration of beasts, and art now adored at the sacred places of\nEphesus, thou which art horrible Proserpina, by reason of the deadly\nhowlings which thou yeeldest, that hast power to stoppe and put away\nthe invasion of the hags and Ghoasts which appeare unto men, and to\nkeepe them downe in the closures of the earth: thou which art\nworshipped in divers manners, and doest illuminate all the borders of\nthe earth by thy feminine shape, thou which nourishest all the fruits\nof the world by thy vigor and force; with whatsoever name or fashion it\nis lawfull to call upon thee, I pray thee, to end my great travaile and\nmisery, and deliver mee from the wretched fortune, which had so long\ntime pursued me. Grant peace and rest if it please thee to my\nadversities, for I have endured too much labour and perill. Remoove\nfrom me my shape of mine Asse, and render to me my pristine estate, and\nif I have offended in any point of divine Majesty, let me rather dye\nthen live, for I am full weary of my life. When I had ended this\norison, and discovered my plaints to the Goddesse, I fortuned to fall\nasleepe, and by and by appeared unto me a divine and venerable face,\nworshipped even of the Gods themselves. Then by little and little I\nseemed to see the whole figure of her body, mounting out of the sea and\nstanding before mee, wherefore I purpose to describe her divine\nsemblance, if the poverty of my humane speech will suffer me, or her\ndivine power give me eloquence thereto. First shee had a great\nabundance of haire, dispersed and scattered about her neck, on the\ncrowne of her head she bare many garlands enterlaced with floures, in\nthe middle of her forehead was a compasse in fashion of a glasse, or\nresembling the light of the Moone, in one of her hands she bare\nserpents, in the other, blades of corne, her vestiment was of fine\nsilke yeelding divers colours, sometime yellow, sometime rosie,\nsometime flamy, and sometime (which troubled my spirit sore) darke and\nobscure, covered with a blacke robe in manner of a shield, and pleated\nin most subtill fashion at the skirts of her garments, the welts\nappeared comely, whereas here and there the starres glimpsed, and in\nthe middle of them was placed the Moone, which shone like a flame of\nfire, round about the robe was a coronet or garland made with flowers\nand fruits. In her right hand shee had a timbrell of brasse, which gave\na pleasant sound, in her left hand shee bare a cup of gold, out of the\nmouth whereof the serpent Aspis lifted up his head, with a swelling\nthroat, her odoriferous feete were covered with shoes interlaced and\nwrought with victorious palme. Thus the divine shape breathing out the\npleasant spice of fertill Arabia, disdained not with her divine voyce\nto utter these words unto me: Behold Lucius I am come, thy weeping and\nprayers hath mooved mee to succour thee. I am she that is the naturall\nmother of all things, mistresse and governesse of all the Elements, the\ninitiall progeny of worlds, chiefe of powers divine, Queene of heaven!\nthe principall of the Gods celestiall, the light of the goddesses: at\nmy will the planets of the ayre, the wholesome winds of the Seas, and\nthe silences of hell be diposed; my name, my divinity is adored\nthroughout all the world in divers manners, in variable customes and in\nmany names, for the Phrygians call me the mother of the Gods: the\nAthenians, Minerva: the Cyprians, Venus: the Candians, Diana: the\nSicilians Proserpina: the Eleusians, Ceres: some Juno, other Bellona,\nother Hecate: and principally the Aethiopians which dwell in the\nOrient, and the Aegyptians which are excellent in all kind of ancient\ndoctrine, and by their proper ceremonies accustome to worship mee, doe\ncall mee Queene Isis. Behold I am come to take pitty of thy fortune and\ntribulation, behold I am present to favour and ayd thee, leave off thy\nweeping and lamentation, put away all thy sorrow, for behold the\nhealthfull day which is ordained by my providence, therefore be ready\nto attend to my commandement. This day which shall come after this\nnight, is dedicated to my service, by an eternall religion, my Priests\nand Ministers doe accustome after the tempests of the Sea, be ceased,\nto offer in my name a new ship as a first fruit of my Navigation. I\ncommand thee not to prophane or despise the sacrifice in any wise, for\nthe great Priest shall carry this day following in procession by my\nexhortation, a Garland of Roses, next the timbrell of his right hand:\nfollow thou my procession amongst the people, and when thou commest to\nthe Priest make as though thou wouldest kisse his hand, but snatch at\nthe Roses, whereby I will put away the skin and shape of an Asse, which\nkind of beast I have long time abhorred and despised, but above all\nthings beware thou doubt not nor feare any of those things, as hard and\ndifficill to bee brought to passe, for in the same houre that I am come\nto thee, I have commanded the Priest by a vision what he shall doe, and\nall the people by my commandement shall be compelled to give thee place\nand say nothing! Moreover, thinke not that amongst so faire and joyfull\nCeremonies, and in so good a company that any person shall abhorre thy\nill-favoured and deformed figure, or that any man shall be so hardy, as\nto blame and reprove thy suddaine restoration to humane shape, wherby\nthey should gather or conceive any sinister opinion: and know thou this\nof certaine, that the residue of thy life untill the houre of death\nshall be bound and subject to me! And think it not an injury to be\nalwayes serviceable towards me, since as by my meane and benefit thou\nshalt become a man: thou shalt live blessed in this world, thou shalt\nlive glorious by my guide and protection, and when thou descendest to\nHell, where thou shalt see me shine in that subterene place, shining\n(as thou seest me now) in the darkness of Acheron, and raigning in the\ndeepe profundity of Stix, thou shalt worship me, as one that hath bin\nfavourable to thee, and if I perceive that thou art obedient to my\ncommandement, addict to my religion, and merite my divine grace, know\nthou, that I will prolong thy dales above the time that the fates have\nappointed, and the celestial Planets ordeined.\n\nWhen the divine Image had spoken these words, she vanished away! By and\nby when I awaked, I arose, haveing the members of my bodie mixed with\nfeare, joy and sweate, and marvailed at the cleare presence of the\npuissant goddesse, and being sprinkled with the water of the sea, I\nrecounted orderly her admonitions and divine commandements. Soone\nafter, the darknes chased away, and the cleare and golden sunne arose,\nwhen as behold I saw the streets replenished with people going in a\nreligious sort and in great triumph. All things seemed that day to be\njoyfull, as well all manner of beasts and houses, as also the very day\nit selfe seemed to rejoyce. For after the hore-frost, ensued the hot\nand temperat sun, whereby the little birds weening that the spring time\nhad bin come, did chirp and sing in their steven melodiously: the\nmother of stars, the parent of times, and mistres of all the world: The\nfruitfull trees rejoyced at their fertility: The barren and sterill\nwere contented at their shadow, rendering sweete and pleasant shrills!\nThe seas were quiet from winds and tempests: the heaven had chaced away\nthe clouds, and appeared faire and cleare with his proper light. Behold\nthen more and more appeared the pomps and processions, attired in\nregall manner and singing joyfully: One was girded about the middle\nlike a man of armes: Another bare and spare, and had a cloake and\nhigh-shooes like a hunter! another was attired in a robe of silke, and\nsocks of gold, having his haire laid out, and dressed in forme of a\nwoman! There was another ware legge-harnesse, and bare a target, a\nsallet, and a speare like a martial souldier: after him marched one\nattired in purple with vergers before him like a magistrate! after him\nfollowed one with a maurell, a staffe, a paire of pantofles, and with a\ngray beard, signifying a philosopher: after him went one with lime,\nbetokening a fowler, another with hookes declaring a fisher: I saw\nthere a meeke and tame beare, which in matron habite was carried on a\nstoole: An Ape with a bonet on his head, and covered with lawne,\nresemling a shepheard, and bearing a cup of gold in his hand: an Asse\nwhich had wings glewed to his backe, and went after an old man, whereby\nyou would judge the one to be Pegasus, and the other Bellephoron.\nAmongst the pleasures and popular delectations, which wandered hither\nand thither, you might see the pompe of the goddesse triumphantly march\nforward: The woman attired in white vestiments, and rejoicing, in that\nthey bare garlands and flowers upon their heads, bedspread the waies\nwith hearbes, which they bare in their aprons, where this regall and\ndevout procession should passe: Other caried glasses on their backes,\nto testifie obeisance to the goddess which came after. Other bare combs\nof Ivory, and declared by their gesture and motions of their armes,\nthat they were ordained and readie to dresse the goddesse: Others\ndropped in the wayes as they went Balme and other pretious ointments:\nThen came a great number, as well of men as women, with Candels,\ntorches, and other lights, doing honour to the celestiall goddesse:\nAfter that sounded the musical harmony of instruments: then came a\nfaire companie of youth, apparelled in white vestiments, singing both\nmeter and verse, with a comely grade which some studious Poet had made\nin honour of the Muses: In the meane season, arrived the blowers of\ntrumpets, which were dedicated unto Serapes, and to the temple before\nthem were officers and beadles, preparing roome for the goddess to\npasse. Then came the great company of men and women, which had taken\ndivine orders, whose garments glistered all the streets over. The women\nhad their haire annointed and their heads covered with linnen: but the\nmen had their crownes shaven, which were the terrene stars of the\ngoddesse, holding in their hand instruments of brasse, silver and gold,\nwhich rendered a pleasant sound.\n\nThe principall Priests which were apparelled with white surplesses\nhanging downe to the ground, bare the relikes of the puissant goddesse.\nOne carried in his hand a light, not unlike to those which we used in\nour houses, saving that in the middle thereof appeared a bole which\nrendred a more bright flame. The second attired like the other bare in\nhis hand an Altar, which the goddesse her selfe named the succor of\nnations. The third held a tree of palme with leaves of gold, and the\nverge of Mercurie. The fourth shewed out a token of equitie by his left\nhand, which was deformed in every place, signifiing thereby more\nequitie then by the right hand. The same Priest carried a round vessell\nof gold, in forme of a cap. The fifth bare a van, wrought with springs\nof gold, and another carried a vessell for wine: By and by after the\ngoddesse followed a foot as men do, and specially Mercurie, the\nmessenger of the goddesse infernall and supernall, with his face\nsometime blacke, sometime faire, lifting up the head of the dogges\nAnnubis, and bearing in his left hand, his verge, and in his right\nhand, the branches of a palme tree, after whom followed a cow with an\nupright gate, representing the figure of the great goddesse, and he\nthat guided her, marched on with much gravity. Another carried after\nthe secrets of their religion, closed in a coffer. There was one that\nbare on his stomacke a figure of his god, not formed like any beast,\nbird, savage thing or humane shape, but made by a new invention,\nwhereby was signified that such a religion should not be discovered or\nrevealed to any person. There was a vessel wrought with a round\nbottome, haveing on the one side, pictures figured like unto the manner\nof the Egyptians, and on the other side was an eare, whereupon stood\nthe Serpent Aspis, holding out his scaly necke. Finally, came he which\nwas appointed to my good fortun according to the promise of the\ngoddesse. For the great Priest which bare the restoration of my human\nshape, by the commandement of the goddes, Approached more and more,\nbearing in his left hand the timbrill, and in the other a garland of\nRoses to give me, to the end I might be delivered from cruel fortune,\nwhich was alwaies mine enemie, after the sufferance of so much\ncalamitie and paine, and after the endurance of so manie perilles: Then\nI not returning hastilie, by reason of sodaine joye, lest I should\ndisturbe the quiet procession with mine importunitie, but going softly\nthrough the prease of the people, which gave me place on every side,\nwent after the Priest. The priest being admonished the night before, as\nI might well perceive stood still and holding out his hand, thrust out\nthe garland of roses into my mouth, I (trembling) devoured with a great\naffection: And as soone as I had eaten them, I was not deceived of the\npromise made unto me. For my deforme and Assie face abated, and first\nthe rugged haire of my body fell off, my thick skin waxed soft and\ntender, the hooves of my feet changed into toes, my hands returned\nagaine, my neck grew short, my head and mouth began round, my long\neares were made little, my great and stonie teeth waxed lesse like the\nteeth of men, and my tayle which combred me most, appeared no where:\nthen the people began to marvaile, and the religious honoured the\ngoddesse, for so evident a miracle, they wondered at the visions which\nthey saw in the night, and the facilitie of my reformation, whereby\nthey rendered testimonie of so great a benefit which I received of the\ngoddesse. When I saw my selfe in such estate, I stood still a good\nspace and said nothing, for I could not tell what to say, nor what word\nI shoulde first speake, nor what thanks I should render to the\ngoddesse, but the great Priest understanding all my fortune and\nmiserie, by divine advertisement, commanded that one should give me\ngarments to cover me: Howbeit as soone as I was transformed from an\nasse to my humane shape, I hid the privitie of my body with my hands as\nshame and necessity compelled mee. Then one of the company put off his\nupper robe and put it on my backe: which done, the Priest looked upon\nme, with a sweete and benigne voice, gan say in this sort: O my friend\nLucius, after the endurance of so many labours, and the escape of so\nmany tempests of fortune, thou art at length come to the port and haven\nof rest and mercy: neither did thy noble linage, thy dignity, thy\ndoctrine, or any thing prevaile, but that thou hast endured so many\nservil pleasures, by a little folly of thy youthfullnes, whereby thou\nhast had a sinister reward for thy unprosperous curiositie, but\nhowsoever the blindnes of fortune tormented thee in divers dangers: so\nit is, that now unwares to her, thou art come to this present\nfelicitie: let fortune go, and fume with fury in another place, let her\nfinde some other matter to execute her cruelty, for fortune hath no\npuissance against them which serve and honour our goddesse. For what\navailed the theeves: the beasts savage: thy great servitude: the ill\nand dangerous waits: the long passages: the feare of death every day?\nKnow thou, that now thou art safe, and under the protection of her, who\nby her cleare light doth lighten the other gods: wherefore rejoyce and\ntake a convenable countenance to thy white habit, follow the pomp of\nthis devout and honorable procession, to the end that such which be not\ndevout to the Goddes, may see and acknowledge their errour. Behold\nLucius, thou art delivered from so great miseries, by the providence of\nthe goddesse Isis, rejoyce therefore and triumph of the victory of\nfortune; to the end thou maist live more safe and sure, make thy selfe\none of this holy order, dedicate thy minde to the Obsequy of our\nReligion, and take upon thee a voluntary yoake of ministrie: And when\nthou beginnest to serve and honour the goddes, then thou shalt feele\nthe fruit of thy liberty: After that the great Priest had prophesied in\nthis manner, with often breathings, he made a conclusion of his words:\nThen I went amongst the company of the rest and followed the\nprocession: everie one of the people knew me, and pointing at me with\ntheir fingers, said in this sort: Behold him who is this day\ntransformed into a man by the puissance of the soveraigne goddesse,\nverily he is blessed and most blessed that hath merited so great grace\nfrom heaven, as by the innocencie of his former life, and as it were by\na new regeneration is reserved to the obsequie of the goddesse. In the\nmeane season by little and little we approached nigh unto the sea cost,\neven to that place where I lay the night before being an Asse. There\nafter the images and reliques were orderly disposed, the great Priest\ncompassed about with divers pictures according to the fashion of the\nAegyptians, did dedicate and consecrate with certaine prayers a fair\nship made very cunningly, and purified the same with a torch, an egge,\nand sulphur; the saile was of white linnen cloath, whereon was written\ncertaine letters, which testified the navigation to be prosperous, the\nmast was of a great length, made of a Pine tree, round and very\nexcellent with a shining top, the cabin was covered over with coverings\nof gold, and all the shippe was made of Citron tree very faire; then\nall the people as well religious as prophane tooke a great number of\nVannes, replenished with odours and pleasant smells and threw them into\nthe sea mingled with milke, untill the ship was filled up with large\ngifts and prosperous devotions, when as with a pleasant wind it\nlaunched out into the deep. But when they had lost the sight of the\nship, every man caried againe that he brought, and went toward the\ntemple in like pompe and order as they came to the sea side. When we\nwere come to the temple, the great priest and those which were deputed\nto carrie the divine figures, but especially those which had long time\nbin worshippers of the religion, went into the secret chamber of the\ngoddesse, where they put and placed the images according to their\nordor. This done, one of the company which was a scribe or interpreter\nof letters, who in forme of a preacher stood up in a chaire before the\nplace of the holy college, and began to reade out of a booke, and to\ninterpret to the great prince, the senate, and to all the noble order\nof chivalry, and generally to all the Romane people, and to all such as\nbe under the jurisdiction of Rome, these words following (Laois\nAphesus) which signified the end of their divin service and that it was\nlawfull for every man to depart, whereat all the people gave a great\nshowt, and replenished with much joy, bare all kind of hearbs and\ngarlands of flowers home to their houses, kissing and imbracing the\nsteps where the goddesse passed: howbeit I could not doe as the rest,\nfor my mind would not suffer me to depart one foot away, so attentiv\nwas I to behold the beauty of the goddesse, with remembrance of the\ngreat miserie I had endured.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow the parents and friends of Apuleius heard news that he was alive\nand in health.\n\n\nIn the mean season newes was carried into my countrey (as swift as the\nflight of birds, or as the blast of windes) of the grace and benefit\nwhich I received of the goddesse, and of my fortune worthy to be had in\nmemory. Then my parents friends and servants of our house understanding\nthat I was not dead, as they were falsely informed, came towards me\nwith great diligence to see me, as a man raised from death to life: and\nI which never thought to see them againe, was as joyfull as they,\naccepting and taking in good part their honest gifts and oblations that\nthey gave, to the intent I might buy such things as was necessarie for\nmy body: for after I had made relation unto them of all my pristine\nmiserie, and present joyes, I went before the face of the goddesse and\nhired me a house within the cloister of the temple to the end I might\ncontinually be ready to the service of the goddesse, and ordinarily\nfrequent the company of the priests, whereby I would wholy become\ndevout to the goddesse, and an inseparable worshipper of her divine\nname: It fortuned that the goddesse appeared to me oftetimes in the\nnight perswading and commanding me to take the order of her religion,\nbut I, though I was indued with a desirous good will, yet the feare of\nthe same withheld me considering her obeysance was hard and difficile,\nthe chastitie of the Priests intolerable, and the life fraile and\nsubject to manie inconveniences. Being thus in doubt, I refrained my\nselfe from all those things as seemed impossible.\n\nOn a night the great priest appeared unto me, presenting his lap full\nof treasure, and when I demanded what it signified, he answered, that\nit was sent me from the countrey of Thessaly, and that a servant of\nmine named Candidus was arived likewise: when I was awake, I mused in\nmy selfe what this vision should pretend, considering I had never any\nservant called by that name: but what soever it did signifie, this I\nverely thought, that it was a foreshew of gaine and prosperous chance:\nwhile I was thus astonied I went to the temple, and taried there till\nthe opening of the gates, then I went in and began to pray before the\nface of the goddesse, the Priest prepared and set the divine things of\nevery Altar, and pulled out the fountaine and holy vessell with\nsolempne supplication. Then they began to sing the mattens of the\nmorning, testifying thereby the houre of the prime. By and by behold\narived my servant which I had left in the country, when Fotis by errour\nmade me an Asse, bringing with him my horse, recovered by her through\ncertaine signes and tokens which I had upon my backe. Then I perceived\nthe interpretation of my dreame, by reason that beside the promise of\ngaine, my white horse was restored to me, which was signified by the\nargument of my servant Candidus.\n\nThis done I retired to the service of the goddesse in hope of greater\nbenefits, considering I had received a signe and token, whereby my\ncourage increased every day more and more to take upon me the orders\nand sacraments of the temple: insomuch that I oftentimes communed with\nthe Priest, desiring him greatly to give me the degree of the religion,\nbut he which was a man of gravitie, and well renowned in the order of\npriesthood, deferred my affection from day to day, with comfort and\nbetter hope, as parents commonly bridle the desires of their children,\nwhen they attempt or indeavour any unprofitable thing, saying, that the\nday when any one should be admitted into their order is appointed by\nthe goddesse, the Priest which should minister the sacrifice is chosen\nby her providence, and the necessary charges of the ceremonies is\nalotted by her commandement, all which things he willed me to attend\nwith marvailous patience, and that I should beware either of too much\nhastinesse, or too great slacknesse, considering that there was like\ndanger, if being called I should delay: or not called I should be\nhasty: moreover he said that there was none of his company either of so\ndesperate a mind, or so rash and hardy, as to enterprise any thing\nwithout the commandernent of the goddesse, whereby he should commit a\ndeadly offence, considering that it was in her power to damne and save\nall persons, and if any were at the point of death, and in the way to\ndamnation, so that he were capable to receive the secrets of the\ngoddesse, it was in her power by divine providence to reduce him to the\npath of health, as by a certaine kind of regeneration: Finally he said\nthat I must attend the celestiall precept, although it was evident and\nplaine, that the goddesse had already vouchsafed to call and appoint me\nto her ministery, and to will me refraine from prophane and unlawfull\nmeates, as those Priests which were already received, to the end I\nmight come more apt and cleane to the knowledge of the secrets of\nreligion. Then was I obedient unto these words, and attentive with meek\nquietnesse, and probable taciturnity, I daily served at the temple: in\nthe end the wholesome gentlenesse of the goddesse did nothing deceive\nme, for in the night she appeared to me in a vision, shewing that the\nday was come which I had wished for so long, she told me what provision\nand charges I should be at, and how that she had appointed her\nprincipallest Priest Mythra to be minister with me in my sacrifices.\n\nWhen I heard these divine commandements, I greatly rejoyced: and arose\nbefore day to speake with the great Priest, whom I fortuned to espie\ncomming out of his chamber: Then I saluted him, and thought with my\nselfe to aske and demand his counsell with a bold courage, but as soone\nas he perceived me, he began first to say: O Lucius now know I well\nthat thou art most happy and blessed, whom the divine goddesse doth so\ngreatly accept with mercy, why dost thou delay? Behold the day which\nthou desiredst when as thou shalt receive at my hands the order of\nreligion, and know the most pure secrets of the gods, whereupon the old\nman tooke me by the hand, and lead me to the gate of the great temple,\nwhere at the first entrie he made a solempne celebration, and after\nmorning sacrifice ended, brought out of the secret place of the temple\nbooks, partly written with unknown characters, and partly painted with\nfigures of beasts declaring briefly every sentence, with tops and\ntailes, turning in fashion of a wheele, which were strange and\nimpossible to be read of the prophane people: There he interpreted to\nme such things as were necessary to the use and preparation of mine\norder. This done, I gave charge to certaine of my companions to buy\nliberally, whatsoever was needfull and convenient, then he brought me\nto the next bains accompanied with all the religious sort, and\ndemanding pardon of the goddesse, washed me and purified my body,\naccording to custome. After this, when noone approached, he brought me\nbacke againe to the temple, presented me before the face of the\ngoddesse, giving a charge of certaine secret things unlawfull to be\nuttered, and commanding me, and generally all the rest, to fast by the\nspace of ten continuall daies, without eating of any beast, or drinking\nany wine, which thing I observed with a marvellous continencie. Then\nbehold the day approached, when as the sacrifice should be done, and\nwhen night came there arrived on every coast, a great multitude of\nPriests, who according to their order offered me many presents and\ngifts: then was all the Laity and prophane people commanded to depart,\nand when they had put on my back a linnen robe, they brought me to the\nmost secret and sacred place of all the temple. You would peradventure\ndemand (you studious reader) what was said and done there, verely I\nwould tell you if it were lawfull for me to tell, you should know if it\nwere convenient for you to heare, but both thy eares, and my tongue\nshall incur the like paine of rash curiositie: Howbeit, I will content\nthy mind for this present time, which peradventure is somewhat\nreligious and given to some devotion, listen therefore and beleeve it\nto be true: Thou shalt understand that I approached neere unto Hell,\neven to the gates of Proserpina, and after that, I was ravished\nthroughout all the Element, I returned to my proper place: About\nmidnight I saw the Sun shine, I saw likewise the gods celestiall and\ngods infernall, before whom I presented my selfe, and worshipped them:\nBehold now have I told thee, which although thou hast heard, yet it is\nnecessarie thou conceale it; this have I declared without offence, for\nthe understanding of the prophane.\n\nWhen morning came, and that the solemnities were finished, I came forth\nsanctified with xii. Stoles and in a religious habit, whereof I am not\nforbidden to speake, considering that many persons saw me at that time:\nthere I was commanded to stand upon a seate of wood, which stood in the\nmiddle of the temple, before the figure and remembrance of the\ngoddesse; my vestiment was of fine linnen, covered and embroidered with\nflowers. I had a pretious Cope upon my shoulders hanging downe to the\nground, whereon were beasts wrought of divers colours as Indian\ndragons, and Hiperborian Griphons, whom in forme of birds, the other\nworld doth ingender; the Priests commonly call such a habit, a\ncelestiall Stole: in my right hand I carried a light torch, and a\ngarland of flowers upon my head, with Palme leaves sprouting out on\nevery side: I was adorned like unto the Sun, and made in fashion of an\nImage, in such sort that all the people compassed about to behold me:\nthen they began to solemnize the feast of the nativitie, and the new\nprocession with sumptuous bankets and delicate meates: the third day\nwas likewise celebrated with like ceremonies with a religious dinner,\nand with all the consummation of the order: when I had continued there\na good space, I conceived a marvailous great pleasure and consolation\nin beholding ordinarily the Image of the goddesse, who at length\nadmonished me to depart homeward, not without rendring of thanks, which\nalthough it were not sufficient, yet they were according to my power.\nHowbeit I could unneth be perswaded to depart, before I had fallen\nprostrate before the face of the goddesse, and wiped her steps with my\nface, whereby I began so greatly to weepe and sigh that my words were\ninterrupted, and as devouring my prayer, I began to say in this sort: O\nholy and blessed dame, the perpetuall comfort of humane kind, who by\nthy bounty and grace nourishest all the world, and hearest a great\naffection to the adversities of the miserable, as a loving mother thou\ntakest no rest, neither art thou idle at any time in giving thy\nbenefits, and succoring all men, as well on land as sea; thou art she\nthat puttest away all stormes and dangers from mans life by thy right\nhand, whereby likewise thou restrainest the fatall dispositions,\nappeasest the great tempests of fortune and keepest backe the course of\nthe stars: the gods supernall doe honour thee: the gods infernall have\nthee in reverence: thou environest all the world, thou givest light to\nthe Sunne, thou governest the world, thou treadest downe the power of\nhell: By thy meane the times returne, the Planets rejoyce, the Elements\nserve: at thy commandment the winds do blow, the clouds increase, the\nseeds prosper, and the fruits prevaile, the birds of the aire, the\nbeasts of the hill, the serpents of the den, and the fishes of the sea,\ndo tremble at thy majesty, but my spirit is not able to give thee\nsufficient praise, my patrimonie is unable to satisfie thy sacrifice,\nmy voice hath no power to utter that which I thinke, no if I had a\nthousand mouths and so many tongues: Howbeit as a good religious\nperson, and according to my estate, I will alwaies keepe thee in\nremembrance and close thee within my breast. When I had ended mine\norison, I went to embrace the great Priest Mythra my spirituall father,\nand to demand his pardon, considering I was unable to recompence the\ngood which he had done to me: after great greeting and thanks I\ndeparted from him to visit my parents and friends; and within a while\nafter by the exhortation of the goddesse, I made up my packet, and\ntooke shipping toward the Citie of Rome, where with a prosperous winde\nI arrived about the xii. day of December. And the greatest desire that\nI had there, was daily to make my praiers to the soveraigne goddesse\nIsis, who by reason of the place where her temple was builded, was\ncalled Campensis, and continually adored of the people of Rome. Her\nminister and worshipper was I, howbeit I was a stranger to her Church,\nand unknowne to her religion there.\n\nWhen the yeare was ended, and the goddesse warned me againe to receive\nthis new order and consecration, I marvailed greatly what it should\nsignifie, and what should happen, considering that I was a sacred\nperson already, but it fortuned that while I partly reasoned with my\nselfe, and partly examining the thing with the Priests and Bishops,\nthere came a new and marvailous thought in my mind, that is to say, I\nwas onely religious to the goddesse Isis, but not sacred to the\nreligion of great Osiris the soveraigne father of all the goddesses,\nbetween whom, although there was a religious unitie and concord, yet\nthere was a great difference of order and ceremony. And because it was\nnecessary that I should likewise be a minister unto Osiris, there was\nno long delay: for in the night after, appeared unto me one of that\norder, covered with linnen robes, holding in his hands speares wrapped\nin Ivie, and other things not convenient to declare, which then he left\nin my chamber, and sitting in my seate, recited to me such things as\nwere necessary for the sumptuous banket of mine entrie. And to the end\nI might know him againe, he shewed me how the ankle of his left foote\nwas somewhat maimed, which caused him a little to halt.\n\nAfter that I manifestly knew the will of the God Osiris, when mattins\nwas ended, I went from one to another, to find him out which had the\nhalting marke on his foote, according as I learned by my vision; at\nlength I found it true: for I perceived one of the company of the\nPriests who had not onely the token of his foote, but the stature and\nhabite of his body, resembling in every point as he appeared in the\nnight: he was called Asinius Marcellus, a name not much disagreeing\nfrom my transformation. By and by I went to him, which knew well enough\nall the matter, as being monished by like precept in the night: for the\nnight before as he dressed the flowers and garlands about the head of\nthe god Osiris, he understood by the mouth of the image which told the\npredestinations of all men, how he had sent a poore man of Madura, to\nwhom he should minister his sacraments, to the end hee should receive a\nreward by divine providence, and the other glory, for his vertuous\nstudies. When I saw my selfe this deputed unto religion, my desire was\nstopped by reason of povertie, for I had spent a great part of my goods\nin travell and peregrination, but most of all in the Citie of Rome,\nwhereby my low estate withdrew me a great while.\n\nIn the end being oft times stirred forward, not without great trouble\nof mind, I was constrained to sell my robe for a little money: howbeit\nsufficient for all my affaires. Then the Priest spake unto me saying,\nHow is it that for a little pleasure thou art not afraid to sell thy\nvestiments, and entring into so great ceremonies, fearest to fall into\npovertie? Prepare thy selfe, and abstaine from all animall meats, as\nbeasts and fish. In the meane season I frequented the sacrifices of\nSerapis, which were done in the night, which thing gave me great\ncomfort to my peregrination, and ministred unto me more plentifull\nliving, considering I gained some money in haunting the court, by\nreason of my Latin tongue.\n\nImmediately after I was eftsoones called and admonished by the god\nOsiris, to receive a third order of religion. Then I was greatly\nastonied, because I could not tell what this new vision signified, or\nwhat the intent of the celestiall god was, doubting least the former\nPriests had given me ill counsell, and fearing that they had not\nfaithfully instructed me: being in this manner as it were incensed the\ngod Osiris appeared to me the night following, and giving me admonition\nsaid, There is no occasion why thou shouldest be afraid with so often\norder of religion, as though there were somewhat omitted, but that thou\nshouldest rather rejoyce, since as it hath pleased the gods to call\nthee three times, when as there was never yet any person that atchieved\nto the order but once: wherefore thou maist thinke thy selfe happy for\nso great benefits. And know thou that the religion which thou must now\nreceive, is right necessary, if thou meane to persever in the\nworshipping of the goddesse, and to make solempnity on the festivall\nday with the blessed habite, which thing shalt be a glory and renowne\nto thee.\n\nAfter this sort, the divine majesty perswaded me in my sleepe,\nwhereupon by and by I went towards the Priest, and declared all that\nwhich I had seene, then I fasted ten dayes according to the custome,\nand of mine owne proper will I abstained longer then I was commanded:\nand verely I did nothing repent of the paine which I had taken, and of\nthe charges which I was at, considering that the divine providence had\ngiven me such an order, that I gained much money in pleading of causes:\nFinally after a few dayes, the great god Osiris appeared to me in the\nnight, not disguised in any other forme, but in his owne essence,\ncommanding me that I should be an Advocate in the court, and not feare\nthe slander and envie of ill persons, which beare me stomacke and\ngrudge by reason of my doctrine, which I had gotten by much labour:\nmoreover, he would not that I should be any longer of the number of his\nPriests, but he allotted me to be one of the Decurions and Senatours:\nand after he appointed me a place within the ancient pallace, which was\nerected in the time of Silla, where I executed my office in great joy\nwith a shaven Crowne.","title":"The Golden Asse","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":80796}