"Dedication\n\n\nTo the Right Honourable and Mighty Lord, THOMAS EARLE OF SUSSEX,\nViscount Fitzwalter, Lord of Egremont and of Burnell, Knight of the most\nnoble Order of the Garter, Iustice of the forrests and Chases from\nTrent Southward; Captain of the Gentleman Pensioners of the House of the\nQUEENE 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 the\nGreat, to translate this present booke, contayning the Metamorphosis of\nLucius Apuleius; being mooved thereunto by the right pleasant pastime\nand delectable matter therein; I eftsoones consulted with myself, to\nwhom I might best offer so pleasant and worthy a work, devised by\nthe author, it being now barbarously and simply framed in our English\ntongue. And after long deliberation had, your honourable lordship came\nto my remembrance, a man much more worthy, than to whom so homely and\nrude a translation should be presented. But when I again remembred the\njesting and sportfull matter of the booke, unfit to be offered to any\nman of gravity and wisdome, I was wholly determined to make no Epistle\nDedicatory at all; till as now of late perswaded thereunto by my\nfriends, I have boldly enterprised to offer the same to your Lordship,\nwho as I trust wil accept the same, than if it did entreat of some\nserious and lofty matter, light and merry, yet the effect thereof\ntendeth to a good and vertuous moral, as in the following Epistle to the\nreader may be declared. For so have all writers in times past employed\ntheir travell and labours, that their posterity might receive some\nfruitfull profit by the same. And therfore the poets feined not their\nfables in vain, considering that children in time of their first\nstudies, are very much allured thereby to proceed to more grave and\ndeepe studies and disciplines, whereas their mindes would quickly loath\nthe wise and prudent workes of learned men, wherein in such unripe\nyears they take no spark of delectation at all. And not only that profit\nariseth to children by such feined fables, but also the vertues of\nmen are covertly thereby commended, and their vices discommended and\nabhorred. For by the fable of Actaeon, where it is feigned that he saw\nDiana washing her selfe in a well, hee was immediately turned into an\nHart, and so was slain of his own Dogs; may bee meant, That when a\nman casteth his eyes on the vain and soone fading beauty of the world,\nconsenting thereto in his minde, hee seemeth to bee turned into a brute\nbeast, and so to be slain by the inordinate desire of his owne affects.\nBy Tantalus that stands in the midst of the floud Eridan, having before\nhim a tree laden with pleasant apples, he being neverthelesse always\nthirsty and hungry, betokeneth the insatiable desires of covetous\npersons. The fables of Atreus, Thiestes, Tereus and Progne signifieth\nthe wicked and abhominable facts wrought and attempted by mortall men.\nThe fall of Icarus is an example to proud and arrogant persons, that\nweeneth to climb up to the heavens. By Mydas, who obtained of Bacchus,\nthat all things which he touched might be gold, is carped the foul\nsin of avarice. By Phaeton, that unskilfully took in hand to rule the\nchariot of the Sunne, are represented those persons which attempt things\npassing their power and capacity. By Castor and Pollux, turned into a\nsigne in heaven called Gemini, is signified, that vertuous and godly\npersons shall be rewarded after life with perpetuall blisse. And in this\nfeined jest of Lucius Apuleius is comprehended a figure of mans life,\nministring most sweet and delectable matter, to such as shall be\ndesirous to reade the same. The which if your honourable lordship shall\naccept ant take in good part, I shall not onely thinke my small travell\nand labour well employed, but also receive a further comfort to attempt\nsome more serious matter, which may be more acceptable to your Lordship:\ndesiring the same to excuse my rash and bold enterprise at this time, as\nI nothing 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 and\nGetulia, whereby he calleth himself half a Numidian and half a Getulian:\nand Sidonius named him the Platonian Madaurence: his father called\nTheseus had passed all offices of dignity in his countrey with much\nhonour. 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, whereby\nhe might worthily be called Polyhistor, that is to say, one that knoweth\nmuch 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 flourished,\nand with how much vertue hee excelled amongst the rude and barbarous\npeople. The like was Anacharsis amongst the most luskish Scythes. But\namongst the Bookes of Lucius Apuleius, which are perished and prevented,\nhowbeit greatly desired as now adayes, one was intituled Banquetting\nquestions, another entreating of the nature of fish, another of the\ngeneration of beasts, another containing his Epigrams, another called\n'Hermagoras': but such as are now extant are the foure books named\n'Floridorum', wherein is contained a flourishing stile, and a savory\nkind of learning, which delighteth, holdeth, and rejoiceth the reader\nmarvellously; wherein you shall find a great variety of things, as\nleaping one from another: One excellent and copious Oration, containing\nall the grace and vertue of the art Oratory, where he cleareth himself\nof the crime of art Magick, which was slanderously objected against him\nby his Adversaries, wherein is contained such force of eloquence and\ndoctrine, as he seemeth to passe and excell himselfe. There is another\nbooke of the god of the spirit of Socrates, whereof St. Augustine maketh\nmention in his booke of the definition of spirits, and description\nof men. Two other books of the opinion of Plato, wherein is briefly\ncontained that which before was largely expressed. One booke of\nCosmography, comprising many things of Aristotles Meteors. The Dialogue\nof Trismegistus, translated by him out of Greeke into Latine, so fine,\nthat it rather seemeth with more eloquence turned into Latine, than it\nwas before written in Greeke. But principally these eleven Bookes of\nthe 'Golden Asse', are enriched with such pleasant matter, with such\nexcellency and variety of flourishing tales, that nothing may be more\nsweet and delectable, whereby worthily they may be intituled The Bookes\nof the 'Golden Asse', for the passing stile and matter therein. For what\ncan be more acceptable than this Asse of Gold indeed. Howbeit there be\nmany who would rather intitule it 'Metamorphosis', that is to say, a\ntransfiguration or transformation, by reason of the argument and matter\nwithin.\n\n\n\n\nThe Preface of the Author To His Sonne, Faustinus\n\nAnd unto the Readers of this Book\n\n THAT I to thee some joyous jests\n may show in gentle gloze,\n And frankly feed thy bended eares\n with passing pleasant prose:\n So that thou daine in seemly sort\n this wanton booke to view,\n That is set out and garnisht fine,\n with written phrases new.\n I will declare how one by hap\n his humane figure lost,\n And how in brutish formed shape,\n his loathed life he tost.\n And how he was in course of time\n from such a state unfold,\n Who eftsoone turn'd to pristine shape\n his lot unlucky told.\n\nWhat and who he was attend a while, and you shall understand that it was\neven I, the writer of mine own Metamorphosie and strange alteration of\nfigure. 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 first\nto schoole. Soone after (as a stranger) I arrived at Rome, whereas by\ngreat industry, and without instruction of any schoolmaster, I attained\nto the full perfection of the Latine tongue. Behold, I first crave and\nbeg your pardon, lest I should happen to displease or offend any of you\nby the rude and rusticke utterance of this strange and forrein language.\nAnd verily this new alteration of speech doth correspond to the\nenterprised matter whereof I purpose to entreat, I will set forth unto\nyou a pleasant Grecian feast. Whereunto gentle Reader if thou wilt give\nattendant eare, it will minister unto thee such delectable matter as\nthou 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\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\na great 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,\nand walked 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, and\nso I overtaking them made a third. And while I listened to heare their\ncommunication, the one of them laughed and mocked his fellow, saying,\nLeave off I pray thee and speak no more, for I cannot abide to heare\nthee tell such absurd and incredible lies; which when I heard, I desired\nto heare some newes, and said, I pray you masters make me partaker\nof your talk, that am not so curious as desirous to know all your\ncommunication: so shall we shorten our journey, and easily passe this\nhigh 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, sayd,\nI pray you, that began to tell your tale even now, leave not off so, but\ntell the residue. And turning to the other I sayd, You perhappes that\nare of an obstinate minde and grosse eares, mocke and contemme those\nthings which are reported for truth, know you not that it is accounted\nuntrue by the depraved opinion of men, which either is rarely seene,\nseldome heard, or passeth the capacitie of mans reason, which if it be\nmore narrowly scanned, you shall not onely finde it evident and plaine,\nbut 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\nThe other night being at supper with a sort of hungry fellowes, while\nI did 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 very\nkeene edge, and by and by for a little money that we who looked on gave\nhim, hee devoured a chasing speare with the point downeward. And after\nthat hee had conveyed the whole speare within the closure of his body,\nand brought it out againe behind, there appeared on the top thereof\n(which caused us all to marvell) a faire boy pleasant and nimble,\nwinding and turning himself in such sort, that you would suppose he had\nneither bone nor gristle, and verily thinke that he were the naturall\nSerpent, creeping and sliding on the knotted staffe, which the god of\nMedicine is feigned to beare. But turning me to him that began his tale,\nI pray you (quoth I) follow your purpose, and I alone will give credit\nunto you, and for your paynes will pay your charges at the next Inne we\ncome unto. To whom he answered Certes sir I thank you for your gentle\noffer, and at your request I wil proceed in my tale, but first I will\nsweare unto you by the light of this Sunne that shineth here, that\nthose things shall be true, least when you come to the next city called\nThessaly, you should doubt any thing of that which is rife in the\nmouthes of every person, and done before the face of all men. And that I\nmay first make relation to you, what and who I am, and whither I go, and\nfor what purpose, know you that I am of Egin, travelling these countries\nabout from Thessaly to Etolia, and from Etolia to Boetia, to provide for\nhoney, cheese, and other victuals to sell againe: and understanding that\nat Hippata (which is the principall city of all Thessaly), is accustomed\nto be soulde new cheeses of exceeding good taste and relish, I fortuned\non a day to go thither, to make my market there: but as it often\nhappeneth, I came in an evill houre; for one Lupus a purveyor had bought\nand ingrossed up all the day before, 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 to\ncrave the benevolence of the passers by. Towards whom (howbeit he was my\nsingular friend and familiar acquaintance, yet half in despaire) I drew\nnigh and said, Alas my Socrates, what meaneth this? how faireth it with\nthee? What crime hast thou committed? verily there is great lamentation\nand weeping for thee at home: Thy children are in ward by decree of\nthe Provinciall Judge: Thy wife (having ended her mourning time in\nlamentable wise, with face and visage blubbered with teares, in such\nsort that she hath well nigh wept out both her eyes) is constrained by\nher parents to put out of remembrance the unfortunate losse and lacke of\nthee at home, and against her will to take a new husband. And dost thou\nlive here as a ghost or hogge, to our great shame 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 yet\nmore, 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 Inne,\nwhere he reposed his body upon a bed, and then I brought him meat and\ndrinke, 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\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\nof misfortune. For in my returne from Macedonie, wheras I sould all\nmy wares, 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\nme to 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 an\nold woman that sold wine, called Meroe, who had her tongue sufficiently\ninstructed to flattery: unto whom I opened the causes of my long\nperegrination and careful travell, and of myne unlucky adventure: and\nafter that I had declared to her such things as then presently came to\nmy remembrance, shee gently entertained mee and made mee good cheere;\nand by and by being pricked with carnall desire, shee brought me to her\nown bed chamber; whereas I poore miser the very first night of our\nlying together did purchase to my selfe this miserable face, and for\nher lodging I gave to her such apparel as the theeves left to cover me\nwithall.\n\nThe I understanding the cause of his miserable estate, sayd unto him, In\nfaith thou art worthy to sustaine the most extreame misery and calamity,\nwhich hast defiled and maculated thyne owne body, forsaken thy wife\ntraitorously, and dishonoured thy children, parents, and friends, for\nthe love of a vile harlot and old strumpet. When Socrates heard mee\nraile against Meroe in such sort, he held up his finger to mee, and as\nhalfe abashed sayd, Peace peace I pray you, and looking about lest any\nbody should heare, I pray you (quoth he) I pray you take heed what you\nsay against so venerable a woman as shee is, lest by your intemperate\ntongue you catch some harm. Then with resemblance of admiration, What\n(quoth I) is she so excellent a person as you name her to be? I pray you\ntell me. Then answered hee, Verily shee is a Magitian, which hath power\nto rule the heavens, to bringe downe the sky, to beare up the earth, to\nturne the waters into hills and the hills into running waters, to lift\nup the terrestrial spirits into the aire, and to pull the gods out\nof the heavens, to extinguish the planets, and to lighten the deepe\ndarknesse of hell. Then sayd I unto Socrates, Leave off this high and\nmysticall kinde of talke, and tell the matter in a more plaine and\nsimple fashion. Then answered he, Will you hear one or two, or more of\nher facts which she hath done, for whereas she enforceth not onely\nthe inhabitants of the countrey here, but also the Indians and the\nEthiopians the one and the other, and also the Antictons, to love her in\nmost raging sort, such as are but trifles and chips of her occupation,\nbut I pray you give eare, and I will declare of more greater matters,\nwhich shee hath done openly and before the face of all men.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Meroe the Witch turned divers persons into miserable beasts.\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 his\nmembers, and lay them in the way, that the hounds may be at a stop when\nthey find them, and to the intent it might so happen unto him (for that\nhe 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 one\nof his pipes of wine, and well nigh drowned in the dregs, doth cry and\ncall with an hoarse voice, for his old guests and acquaintance that pass\nby. Like wise she turned one of the Advocates of the Court (because he\npleaded and spake against her in a rightful cause) into a horned Ram,\nand now the poore Ram is become an Advocate. Moreover she caused, that\nthe wife of a certain lover that she had should never be delivered of\nher childe, but according to the computation of all men, it is eight\nyeares past since the poore woman first began to swell, and now shee is\nencreased so big, that shee seemeth as though she would bring forth\nsome great Elephant: which when it was knowne abroad, and published\nthroughout all the towne, they tooke indignation against her, and\nordayned that the next day shee should most cruelly be stoned to death.\nWhich purpose of theirs she prevented by the vertue of her inchantments,\nand as Medea (who obtained of King Creon but one days respit before her\ndeparture) did burn all his house, him, and his daughter: so she, by her\nconjurations and invocations of spirits, (which she useth in a certaine\nhole in her house, as shee her selfe declared unto me the next day\nfollowing) closed all the persons in the towne so sure in their houses,\nand with such violence of power, that for the space of two dayes they\ncould not get forth, nor open their gates nor doore, nor break downe\ntheir walls, whereby they were inforced by mutuall consent to cry unto\nher, and to bind themselves strictly by oaths, that they would never\nafterwards molest or hurt her: and moreover, if any did offer her any\ninjury they would be ready to defend her. Whereupon shee, mooved by\ntheir promises, and stirred by pitty, released all the towne. But shee\nconveyed the principal Author of this ordinance about midnight, with\nall his house, the walls, the ground, and the foundation, into another\ntowne, distant from thence an hundred miles, scituate and beeing on\nthe top of an high hill, and by reason thereof destitute of water, and\nbecause the edifices and houses were so nigh built together, that it was\nnot possible for the house to stand there, she threw it downe before the\ngate of the towne. Then I spake and said O my friend Socrates you\nhave declared unto me many marvellous things and strange chances, and\nmoreover stricken me with no small trouble of minde, yea rather with\ngreat feare, lest the same old woman using the like practice, should\nfortune to heare all our communication. Wherefore let us now sleepe, and\nafter that we have taken our rest, let us rise betimes in the morning,\nand ride away hence before 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 they\nwere handled by Witches.\n\nIn speaking these words, and devising with my selfe of our departing the\nnext morrow, lest Meroe the witch should play by us as she had done by\ndivers other persons, it fortuned that Socrates did fall asleepe, and\nslept very soundly, by reason of his travell and plenty of meat and wine\nwherewithall hee had filled him selfe. Wherefore I closed and barred\nfast the doores of the chamber, and put my bed behinde the doore, and\nso layed mee downe to rest. But I could in no wise sleepe, for the great\nfeare which was in my heart, untill it was about midnight, and then I\nbegan to slumber. But alas, behold suddenly the chamber doores brake\nopen, and locks, bolts, and posts fell downe, that you would verily have\nthought that some Theeves had been presently come to have spoyled and\nrobbed us. And my bed whereon I lay being a truckle bed, fashioned in\nforme of a Cradle, and one of the feet broken and rotten, by violence\nwas turned upside downe, and I likewise was overwhelmed and covered\nlying in the same. Then perceived I in my selfe, that certaine affects\nof the minde by nature doth chance contrary. For as teares oftentimes\ntrickle downe the cheekes of him that seeth or heareth some joyfull\nnewes, so I being in this fearfull perplexity, could not forbeare\nlaughing, to see how of Aristomenus I was made like unto a snail [in]\nhis shell. And while I lay on the ground covered in this sort, I peeped\nunder the bed to see what would happen. And behold there entred in two\nold women, the one bearing a burning torch, and the other a sponge and\na naked sword; and so in this habit they stood about Socrates being\nfast asleep. Then shee which bare the sword sayd unto the other, Behold\nsister Panthia, this is my deare and sweet heart, which both day and\nnight hath abused my wanton youthfulnesse. This is he, who little\nregarding my love, doth not only defame me with reproachfull words, but\nalso intendeth to run away. And I shall be forsaken by like craft as\nVlysses did use, and shall continually bewaile my solitarinesse as\nCalipso. Which said, shee pointed towards mee that lay under the\nbed, and shewed me to Panthia. This is hee, quoth she, which is his\nCounsellor, and perswadeth him to forsake me, and now being at the point\nof death he lieth prostrate on the ground covered with his bed, and hath\nseene all our doings, and hopeth to escape scot-free from my hands,\nbut I will cause that hee will repente himselfe too late, nay rather\nforthwith, of his former intemperate language, and his present\ncuriosity. Which words when I heard I fell into a cold sweat, and my\nheart trembled with feare, insomuch that the bed over me did likewise\nrattle and shake. Then spake Panthia unto Meroe and said, Sister let us\nby and by teare him in pieces or tye him by the members, and so cut them\noff. Then Meroe (being so named because she was a Taverner, and loved\nwel good wines) answered, Nay rather let him live, and bury the corpse\nof this poore wretch in some hole of the earth; and therewithall shee\nturned the head of Socrates on the other side and thrust her sword up to\nthe hilts into the left part of his necke, and received the bloud that\ngushed out, into a pot, that no drop thereof fell beside: which things\nI saw with mine own eyes, and as I thinke to the intent that she might\nalter nothing that pertained to sacrifice, which she accustomed to make,\nshe thrust her hand down into the intrals of his body, and searching\nabout, at length brought forth the heart of my miserable companion\nSocrates, who having his throat cut in such sort, yeelded out a dolefull\ncry, and gave up the ghost. Then Panthia stopped up the wide wound of\nhis throat with the Sponge and said, O sponge sprung and made of the\nsea, beware that thou not passe by running river. This being said, one\nof them moved and turned up my bed, and then they strid over mee, and\nclapped their buttocks upon my face, and all bepissed mee until I was\nwringing wet. When this was over they went their wayes, and the doores\nclosed fast, the posts stood in their old places, and the lockes and\nbolts were 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 to\nmorrow, when my companion shall be found murthered here in the chamber?\nTo whom shall I seeme to tell any similitude of truth, when as I shall\ntell the trueth in deed? They will say, If thou wert unable to resist\nthe violence of the women, yet shouldest thou have cried for help;\nWouldst 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 thee\nthat stood by and saw them commit that horrible fact? Wherefore although\nthou hast escaped their hands, yet thou shalt not escape ours. While\nI pondered these things with my selfe the night passed on, and so I\nresolved 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 sirrah\nHostler where art thou? Open the stable doore for I will ride away by\nand by. The Hostler lying behinde the stable doore upon a pallet, and\nhalf asleepe, What (quoth hee) doe you not know that the wayes be very\ndangerous? What meane you to rise at this time of night? If you perhaps\nguilty of some heynous crime, be weary of your life, yet thinke you not\nthat we are such Sots that we will die for you. Then said I, It is\nwell nigh day, and moreover, what can theeves take from him that hath\nnothing? Doest thou not know (Foole as thou art) if thou be naked,\nif ten Gyants should assaile thee, they could not spoyle or rob thee?\nWhereunto the drowsie Hostler half asleepe, and turning on the other\nside, answered, What know I whether you have murthered your Companion\nwhom you brought in yesternight, or no, and now seeke the means to\nescape away? O Lord, at that time I remember the earth seemed ready to\nopen, and me thought I saw at hell gate the Dog Cerberus ready to devour\nmee, and then I verily beleeved, that Meroe did not spare my throat,\nmooved with pitty, but rather cruelly pardoned mee to bring mee to the\nGallowes. Wherefore I returned to my chamber, and there devised with my\nselfe in what sort I should finish my life. But when I saw that fortune\nshould minister unto mee no other instrument than that which my bed\nprofered 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 wholesome\nweapon to end my life, that am most willing to dye. And therewithal I\npulled out a piece of the rope wherewith the bed was corded, and tyed\none end thereof about a rafter by the window, and with the other end I\nmade a sliding knot, and stood upon my bed, and so put my neck into\nit, and leaped from the bed, thinking to strangle my selfe and so dye,\nbehold the rope beeing old and rotten burst in the middle, and I fell\ndown tumbling upon Socrates that lay under: And even at that same very\ntime the Hostler came in crying with a loud voyce, and sayd, Where\nare you that made such hast at midnight, and now lies wallowing abed?\nWhereupon (I know not whether it was by my fall, or by the great cry\nof the Hostler) Socrates as waking out of sleepe, did rise up first and\nsayd, It is not without cause that strangers do speake evill of all such\nHostlers, for this Catife in his comming in, and with his crying out, I\nthinke under a colour to steale away something, hath waked me out of a\nsound sleepe. Then I rose up joyfull with a merry countenance, saying,\nBehold good Hostler, my friend, my companion and my brother, whom thou\ndidst falsly affirme to be slaine by mee this might. And therewithall I\nembraced my friend Socrates and kissed him: but hee smelling the stinke\nof the pisse wherewith those Hagges had embrued me, thrust me away and\nsayd, Clense thy selfe from this filthy odour, and then he began gently\nto enquire, how that noysome sent hapned unto mee. But I finely feigning\nand colouring the matter for the time, did breake off his talk, and\ntooke him by the hand and sayd, Why tarry we? Why lose wee the pleasure\nof this faire morning? Let us goe, and so I tooke up my packet, and\npayed the charges of the house and departed: and we had not gone a mile\nout of the Towne but it was broad day, and then I diligently looked upon\nSocrates throat, to see if I could espy the place where Meroe thrust in\nher sword: but when I could not perceive any such thing, I thought with\nmy selfe, What a mad man am I, that being overcome with wine yester\nnight, have dreamed such terrible things? Behold I see Socrates is\nsound, safe and in health. Where is his wound? Where is the Sponge?\nWhere is his great and new cut? And then I spake to him and said, Verily\nit is not without occasion, that Physitians of experience do affirme,\nThat such as fill their gorges abundantly with meat and drinke, shall\ndreame of dire and horrible sights: for I my selfe, not tempering my\nappetite yester night from the pots of wine, did seeme to see this night\nstrange and cruel visions, that even yet I think my self sprinkled and\nwet with human blood: whereunto Socrates laughing made answer and\nsaid, Nay, thou art not wet with the blood of men, but art embrued with\nstinking pisse; and verily I dreamed that my throat was cut, and that\nI felt the paine of the wound, and that my heart was pulled out of my\nbelly, and the remembrance thereof makes me now to feare, for my knees\ndo so tremble that I can scarce goe any further, and therefore I would\nfaine eat somewhat to strengthen and revive my spirits. Then said I,\nbehold here thy breakefast, and therewithall I opened my script that\nhanged upon my shoulder, and gave him bread and cheese, and we sate\ndowne under a greate Plane tree, and I eat part with him; and while I\nbeheld him eating greedily, I perceived that he waxed meigre and pale,\nand that his lively colour faded away, insomuch that beeing in great\nfear, and remembring those terrible furies of whom I lately dreamed, the\nfirst morsell of bread that I put in my mouth (that was but very small)\ndid so 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 increased\nmy feare, and what is hee that seeing his companion die in the high-way\nbefore his face, would not greatly lament and bee sorry? But when that\nSocrates had eaten sufficiently hee waxed very thirsty, for indeed he\nhad well nigh devoured a whole Cheese: and behold evill fortune! There\nwas behind the Plane tree a pleasant running water as cleere as Crystal,\nand I sayd unto him, Come hither Socrates to this water and drinke thy\nfill. And then he rose and came to the River, and kneeled downe on the\nside of the banke to drinke, but he had scarce touched the water with\nlips, when as behold the wound in his throat opened wide, and the Sponge\nsuddenly fell out into the water, and after issued out a little remnant\nof bloud, and his body being then without life, had fallen into the\nriver, had not I caught him by the leg and so pulled him up. And after\nthat I had lamented a good space the death of my wretched companion, I\nburied 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 would\ngive no credit unto him, began to say, Verily there was never so foolish\na tale, nor a more absurd lie told than this. And then he spake unto me\nsaying, Ho sir, what you are I know not, but your habit and countenance\ndeclareth that you should be some honest Gentleman, (speaking to\nApuleius) doe you beleeve this tale? Yea verily (quoth I), why not? For\nwhatsoever the fates have appointed to men, that I beleeve shall happen.\nFor may things chance unto me and unto you, and to divers others, which\nbeeing declared unto the ignorant be accounted as lies. But verily I\ngive credit unto his tale, and render entire thankes unto him, in that\nby the pleasant relation thereof we have quickly passed and shortned our\njourney, and I thinke that my horse was also delighted with the same,\nand hath brought me to the gate of this city without any paine at all.\nThus ended both our talk and our journey, for they two turned on the\nleft hand to the next villages, and I rode into the city.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIXTH CHAPTER\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\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) do\nyou see these Bay windowes, which on one side abut to the gates of the\ncity, and on the other side to the next lane? There Milo dwelleth, very\nrich both in mony and substance, but by reason of his great avarice\nand insatiable covetousnes, he is evill spoken of, and he is a man that\nliveth all by usurie, and lending his money upon pledges. Moreover he\ndwelleth in a small house, and is ever counting his money, and hath a\nwife that is a companion of his extreame misery, neither keepeth he\nmore in his house than onely one maid, who goeth apparelled like unto a\nbeggar. Which when I heard, I laughed in my self and thought, In\nfaith my friend Demeas hath served me well, which hath sent me being a\nstranger, unto such a man, in whose house I shall not bee afeared either\nof smoke or of the sent of meat; and therewithall I rode to the doore,\nwhich was fast barred, and knocked aloud. Then there came forth a maid\nwhich said, Ho sirrah that knocks so fast, in what kinde of sort will\nyou borrow money? Know you not that we use to take no gage, unless it be\neither plate or Jewels? To whom I answered, I pray you maid speak more\ngently, and tel me whether thy master be within or no? Yes (quoth shee)\nthat he is, why doe you aske? Mary (said I) I am come from Corinth, and\nhave brought him letters from Demeas his friend. Then sayd the Maid, I\npray you tarry here till I tell him so, and therewithall she closed fast\nthe doore, and went in, and after a while she returned againe and sayd,\nMy master desireth you to alight and come in. And so I did, whereas I\nfound him sitting upon a little bed, going to supper, and his wife sate\nat his feet, but there was no meat upon the table, and so by appointment\nof the maid I came to him and saluted him, and delivered the letters\nwhich I had brought from Demeas. Which when hee had read hee sayd,\nVerily, I thanke my friend Demeas much, in that hee hath sent mee so\nworthy a guest as you are. And therewithall hee commanded his wife to\nsit away and bid mee sit in her place; which when I refused by reason of\ncourtesie, hee pulled me by my garment and willed me to sit downe; for\nwee have (quoth he) no other stool here, nor no other great store\nof household stuffe, for fear of robbing. Then I according to his\ncommandement, sate down, and he fell in further communication with me\nand sayd, Verily I doe conjecture by the comly feature of your body,\nand by the maidenly shamefastnesse of your face that you are a Gentleman\nborne, as my friend Demeas hath no lesse declared the same in his\nletters. Wherfore I pray you take in good part our poore lodging, and\nbehold yonder chamber is at your commaundement, use it as your owne,\nand if you be contented therewithall, you shall resemble and follow the\nvertuous qualities of your good father Theseus, who disdained not the\nslender 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 mee\nhither roundly, and therefore I pray thee Fotis take this money and buy\nsome 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\nWhen this was done, and all my things brought into the Chamber, I walked\ntowards the Baines; but first I went to the market to buy some victuals\nfor my supper, whereas I saw great plenty of fish set out to be sould:\nand so I cheapened part thereof, and that which they at first held at an\nhundred pence, I bought at length for twenty. Which when I had done, and\nwas departing away, one of myne old acquaintance, and fellow at Athens,\nnamed Pithias, fortuned to passe by, and viewing me at a good space, in\nthe end brought me to his remembrance, and gently came and kissed mee,\nsaying, O my deare friend Lucius, it is a great while past since we two\nsaw one another, and moreover, from the time that wee departed from our\nMaster Vestius, I never heard any newes from you. I pray you Lucius tell\nme the cause of your peregrination hither. Then I answered and sayd, I\nwill make relation thereof unto you tomorrow: but I pray you tell me,\nwhat meaneth these servitors that follow you, and these rods or verges\nwhich they beare, and this habit which you wear like unto a magistrate,\nverily I thinke you have obtained your own desire, whereof I am right\nglad. Then answered Pithias, I beare the office of the Clerke of the\nmarket, and therfore if you will have any pittance for your supper\nspeake and I will purvey it for you. Then I thanked him heartily and\nsayd I had bought meat sufficient already. But Pithias when hee espied\nmy basket wherein my fish was, tooke it and shaked it, and demanded of\nme what I had payd for all my Sprots. In faith (quoth I), I could scarce\ninforce the fishmonger to sell them for twenty pence. Which when I\nheard, he brought me backe again into the market, and enquired of me\nof whom I bought them. I shewed him the old man which sate in a corner,\nwhome by and by, by reason of his office, hee did greatly blame, and\nsayd, Is it thus you serve and handle strangers, and specially our\nfriends? Wherefore sell you this fish so deare, which is not worth a\nhalfepenny? Now perceive I well, that you are an occasion to make this\nplace, which is the principall city of all Thessaly, to be forsaken of\nall men, and to reduce it into an uninhabitable Desart, by reasone of\nyour excessive prices of victuals, but assure yourself that you shall\nnot escape without punishment, and you shall know what myne office is,\nand how I ought to punish such as offend. Then he took my basket and\ncast the fish on the ground, and commanded one of his Sergeants to tread\nthem under 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 house,\nboth without money and meat, and so got into my chamber. Then came Fotis\nimmediately unto mee, and said that her master desired me to come to\nsupper. But I not ignorant of Milos abstinence, prayed that I might be\npardoned since as I thought best to ease my wearied bones rather with\nsleepe and quietnesse, than with meat. When Fotis had told this to Milo,\nhe came himselfe and tooke mee by the hand, and while I did modestly\nexcuse my selfe, I will not (quoth he) depart from this place, until\nsuch time as you shall goe with me: and to confirm the same, hee bound\nhis words with an oath, whereby he enforced me to follow him, and so he\nbrought me into his chamber, where hee sate him downe upon the bed, and\ndemaunded of mee how his friend Demeas did, his wife, his children, and\nall his family: and I made answer to him every question, specially hee\nenquired the causes of my peregrination and travell, which when I had\ndeclared, he yet busily demanded of the state of my Countrey, and the\nchief magistrates there, and principally of our Lievtenant and Viceroy;\nwho when he perceived that I was not only wearied by travell, but also\nwith talke, and that I fell asleep in the midst of my tale, and further\nthat I spake nothing directly or advisedly, he suffered me to depart to\nmy chamber. So scaped I at length from the prating and hungry supper of\nthis rank old man, and being compelled by sleepe and not by meat, and\nhaving supped only with talke, I returned into my chamber, and there\nbetooke me to my quiet and long desired rest.\n\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\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 know\nand see some marvellous and strange things, remembring with my selfe\nthat I was in the middle part of all Thessaly, whereas by the common\nreport of all the World, the Sorceries and Inchauntments are most used,\nI oftentimes repeated with my self the tale of my companion Aristomenus\ntouching the manner of this City, and being mooved by great desire, I\nviewed the whole scituation thereof, neither was there any thing which\nI saw there, but that I did beleeve to be the same which it was indeed,\nbut every thing seemed unto me to be transformed and altered into other\nshapes, by the wicked power of Sorcerie and Inchantment, insomuch that I\nthought that the stones which I found were indurate, and turned from\nmen into that figure, and that the birds which I heard chirping, and\nthe trees without the walls of the city, and the running waters, were\nchanged from men into such kinde of likenesses. And further I thought\nthat the Statues, Images and Walls could goe, and the Oxen and other\nbrute beasts could speake and tell strange newes, and that immediately\nI should see and heare some Oracles from the heavens, and from the\ngleed of the Sun. Thus being astonied or rather dismayed and vexed with\ndesire, knowing no certaine place whither I intended to go, I went from\nstreet to street, and at length (as I curiously gazed on every thing)\nI fortuned unwares to come into the market place, whereas I espied a\ncertaine woman, accompanied with a great many servants, towards whom I\ndrew nigh, and viewed her garments beset with gold and pretious stone,\nin such sort that she seemed to be some noble matron. And there was\nan old man which followed her, who as soon as he espied me, said to\nhimself, Verily this is Lucius, and then he came and embraced me, by and\nby he went unto his mistresse and whispered in her eare, and came to\nmee againe saying, How is it Lucius that you will not salute your deere\nCousin and singular friend? To whom I answered, Sir I dare not be so\nbold as to take acquaintance of an unknown woman. Howbeit as halfe\nashamed I drew towards her, and shee turned her selfe and sayd, Behold\nhow he resembleth the very same grace as his mother Salvia doth, behold\nhis countenance and stature, agreeing thereto in each poynt, behold his\ncomely state, his fine slendernesse, his Vermilion colour, his haire\nyellow by nature, his gray and quicke eye, like to the Eagle, and his\ntrim and comely gate, which do sufficiently prove him to be the naturall\nchilde of Salvia. And moreover she sayd, O Lucius, I have nourished thee\nwith myne owne proper hand: and why not? For I am not onely of kindred\nto thy mother by blood, but also by nourice, for wee both descended of\nthe line of Plutarch, lay in one belly, sucked the same paps, and\nwere brought up together in one house. And further there is no other\ndifference betweene us two, but that she is married more honourably than\nI: I am the same Byrrhena whom you have often heard named among your\nfriends at home: wherfore I pray you to take so much pains as to come\nwith me to my house, and use it as your owne. At whose words I was\npartly abashed and sayd, God forbid Cosin that I should forsake myne\nHost Milo without any reasonable cause; but verily I will, as often as I\nhave occasion to passe by thy house, come and see how you doe. And while\nwe were talking thus together, little by little wee came to her house,\nand behold the gates of the same were very beautifully set with pillars\nquadrangle wise, on the top wherof were placed carved statues and\nimages, but principally the Goddesse of Victory was so lively and with\nsuch excellencie portrayed and set forth, that you would have verily\nhave thought that she had flyed, and hovered with her wings hither\nand thither. 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. Behinde\nthe back of the goddesse was carved a stone in manner of a Caverne,\nenvironed with mosse, herbes, leaves, sprigs, green branches and\nbowes, growing in and about the same, insomuch that within the stone\nit glistered and shone marvellously, under the brim of the stone hanged\napples and grapes carved finely, wherein Art envying Nature, shewed\nher great cunning. For they were so lively set out, that you would have\nthought if Summer had been come, they might have bin pulled and eaten;\nand while I beheld the running water, which seemed to spring and leap\nunder the feet of the goddesse, I marked the grapes which hanged in the\nwater, which were like in every point to the grapes of the vine, and\nseemed to move and stir by the violence of the streame. Moreover,\namongst the branches of the stone appeared the image of Acteon: and\nhow that Diana (which was carved within the same stone, standing in the\nwater) because he did see her naked, did turne him into an hart, and\nso he was torne and slaine of his owne hounds. And while I was greatly\ndelighted with the view of these things, Byrrhena spake to me and sayd,\nCousin all things here be at your commandement. And therewithall shee\nwilled secretly the residue to depart: who being gone she sayd, My\nmost deare Cousin Lucius, I do sweare by the goddesse Diana, that I doe\ngreatly tender your safety, and am as carefull for you as if you were\nmyne owne naturall childe, beware I say, beware of the evil arts and\nwicked allurements of that Pamphiles who is the wife of Milo, whom\nyou call your Host, for she is accounted the most chief and principall\nMagitian and Enchantresse living, who by breathing out certain words and\ncharmes over bowes, stones and other frivolous things, can throw down\nall the powers of the heavens into the deep bottome of hell, and reduce\nall the whole world againe to the old Chaos. For as soone as she espieth\nany comely yong man, shee is forthwith stricken with his love, and\npresently setteth her whole minde and affection on him. She soweth\nher seed of flattery, she invades his spirit and intangleth him with\ncontinuall 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 your\ntender 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 of\nthat art, and now wholly to become a Witch. And so I waxed joyful, and\nwringing my selfe out of her company, as out of linkes or chaines, I\nbade 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 satisfie\nthy desire, now shake off thy childishnesse and shew thy selfe a man,\nbut especially temper thy selfe from the love of thyne hostesse, and\nabstain from violation of the bed of Milo, but hardly attempt to winne\nthe maiden Fotis, for she is beautifull, wanton and pleasant in talke.\nAnd soone when thou goest to sleepe, and when shee bringeth you gently\ninto 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\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 and\nwhite hands, in such sort that with stirring and turning the same, her\nloynes 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. The shee beeing likewise merrily disposed, made answer, Depart\nI say, Miser from me, depart from my fire, for if the flame thereof doe\nnever so little blaze forth, it will burne thee extreamely and none can\nextinguish the heat thereof but I alone, who in stirring the pot and\nmaking the bed can so finely shake my selfe. When she had sayd these\nwords shee cast her eyes upon me and laughed, but I did not depart from\nthence until such time as I had viewed her in every point. But what\nshould I speak of others, when as I doe accustome abroad to marke the\nface and haire of every dame, and afterwards delight my selfe therewith\nprivately at home, and thereby judge the residue of their shape, because\nthe face is the principall part of all the body, and is first open to\nour eyes. And whatsoever flourishing and gorgeous apparell doth work and\nset forth in the corporal parts of a woman, the same doth the naturall\nand comely beauty set out in the face. Moreover there be divers, that to\nthe intent to shew their grace and feature, wil cast off their partlets,\ncollars, habiliments, fronts, cornets and krippins, and doe more delight\nto shew the fairnesse of their skinne, than to deck themselves up in\ngold and pretious stones. But because it is a crime unto me to say so,\nand to give no example thereof, know ye, that if you spoyle and cut the\nhaire of any woman or deprive her of the colour of her face, though shee\nwere never 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 Cupid,\nthough were girded with her beautifull skarfe of Love, and though shee\nsmelled of perfumes and musks, yet if shee appeared bald, shee could in\nno 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\nbe, though she be never to bravely attyred with gold, silks, pretious\nstones, and other rich and gorgeous ornaments, yet if her hair be\nnot curiously 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 haire.\nWhereat she turned her face, and cast her rolling eyes upon me, saying,\nO Scholler, thou hast tasted now both hony and gall, take heed that thy\npleasure do not turn unto repentance. Tush (quoth I) my sweet heart, I\nam contented for such another kiss to be broiled here upon this fire,\nwherwithall I embraced and kissed her more often, and shee embraced and\nkissed me likewise, and moreover her breath smelled like Cinnamon, and\nthe liquor of her tongue was like unto sweet Nectar, wherewith when my\nmind was greatly delighted I sayd, Behold Fotis I am yours, and shall\npresently dye unlesse you take pitty upon me. Which when I had said she\neftsoone kissed me, and bid me be of good courage, and I will (quoth\nshee) satisfie your whole desire, and it shall be no longer delayed than\nuntil night, when as assure your selfe I will come and lie with you;\nwherfore go your wayes and prepare your selfe, for I intend valiantly\nand couragiously to encounter with you this night. Thus when we had\nlovingly talked and reasoned together, we departed for that 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\nWhen noone was come, Byrrhena sent to me a fat Pigge, five hennes, and a\nflagon of old wine. Then I called Fotis and sayd, Behold how Bacchus the\negger and stirrer of Venery, doth offer him self of his owne accord, let\nus therefore drink up this wine, that we may prepare our selves and\nget us courage against soone, for Venus wanteth no other provision than\nthis, that the Lamp may be all the night replenished with oyle, and the\ncups with wine. The residue of the day I passed away at the Bains and\nin banquetting, and towards evening I went to supper, for I was bid by\nMilo, and so I sate downe at the table, out of Pamphiles sight as\nmuch as I could, being mindfull of the commandement of Byrrhena, and\nsometimes I would cast myne eyes upon her as upon the furies of hell,\nbut I eftsoones turning my face behinde me, and beholding my Fotis\nministring at the table, was again refreshed and made merry. And behold\nwhen Pamphiles did see the candle standing on the table, she said,\nVerily wee shall have much raine to morrow. Which when her husband did\nheare, he demanded of her by what reason she knew it? Mary (quoth shee)\nthe light on the table sheweth the same. Then Milo laughed and said,\nVerily we nourish a Sybel prophesier, which by the view of a candle doth\ndivine of Celestiall things, and of the Sunne it selfe. Then I mused in\nmy minde and said unto Milo, Of truth it is a good experience and proof\nof divination. Neither is it any marvell, for although this light is but\na small light, and made by the hands of men, yet hath it a remembrance\nof that great and heavenly light, as of his parent, and doth shew unto\nus what will happen in the Skies above. For I knew at Corinth a certain\nman of Assyria, who would give answers in every part of the City, and\nfor the gaine of money would tell every man his fortune, to some he\nwould tel the dayes of their marriages, to others he would tell when\nthey should build, that their edifices should continue. To others, when\nthey should best go e about their affaires. To others, when they should\ngoe by sea or land: to me, purposing to take my journey hither, he\ndeclared many things strange and variable. For sometimes hee sayd that\nI should win glory enough: sometimes he sayd I should write a great\nHistorie: sometimes againe hee sayd that I should devise an incredible\ntale: and sometimes that I should make Bookes. Whereat Milo laughed\nagaine, and enquired of me, of what stature this man of Assyria was,\nand what he was named. In faith (quoth I) he is a tall man and somewhat\nblacke, and hee is called Diophanes. Then sayd Milo, the same is he and\nno other, who semblably hath declared many things here unto us, whereby\nhee got and obtained great substance and Treasure.\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\nhim, and 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\nwas one 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 pray\nyou tell mee of your comming from the isle of Euboea, and how you sped\nby the way? Whereunto Diophanes this notable Assyrian (not yet come unto\nhis minde, but halfe amased) soone answered and sayd, I would to god\nthat all our enemies and evil willers might fall into the like dangerous\nperegrination and trouble. For the ship where we were in, after it was\nby the waves of the seas and by the great tempests tossed hither\nand thither, in great peril, and after that the mast and stern brake\nlikewise in pieces, could in no wise be brought to shore, but sunk into\nthe water, and so we did swim, and hardly escaped to land. And after\nthat, whatsoever was given unto us in recompense of our losses, either\nby the pitty of strangers, or by the benevolence of our friends, was\ntaken away from us by theeves, whose violence when my brother Arisuatus\ndid assay to resist, hee was cruelly murthered by them before my face.\nThese things when he had sadly declared, the Cobler tooke up his money\nagaine which he had told out to pay for the telling of his fortune, and\nran away. The Diophanes comming to himselfe perceived what he had done,\nand we all that stood by laughed greatly. But that (quoth Milo) which\nDiophanes did tell unto you Lucius, that you should be happy and have a\nprosperous journey, was only true. Thus Milo reasoned with me. But I\nwas not a little sorry that I had traind him into such a vaine of talke,\nthat I lost a good part of the night, and the sweete pleasure thereof:\nbut at length I boldly said to Milo, Let Diophanes fare well with his\nevil fortune, and get againe that which he lost by sea and land, for\nI verily do yet feel the wearinesse of my travell, whereof I pray you\npardon mee, and give me licence to depart to bed: wherewithall I rose up\nand went unto my chamber, where I found all things finely prepared and\nthe childrens bed (because they should not heare what we did in the\nnight) was removed far off without the chamber doore. The table was all\ncovered with those meats that were left at supper, the cups were filled\nhalfe full with water, to temper and delay the wines, the flagon stood\nready prepared, and there lacked nothing that was necessary for the\npreparation of Venus. And when I was entring into the bed, behold my\nFotis (who had brought her mistresse to bed) came in and gave me roses\nand floures which she had in her apron, and some she threw about the\nbed, and kissed mee sweetly, and tied a garland about my head, and\nbespred the chamber with the residue. Which when shee had done, shee\ntooke a cup of wine and delaied it with hot water, and profered it me to\ndrinke; and before I had drunk it all off she pulled it from my mouth,\nand then gave it me againe, and in this manner we emptied the pot twice\nor thrice together. Thus when I had well replenished my self with wine,\nand was now ready unto Venery not onely in minde but also in body, I\nremoved my cloathes, and shewing to Fotis my great impatiencie I sayd, O\nmy sweet heart take pitty upon me and helpe me, for as you see I am now\nprepared unto the battell, which you your selfe did appoint: for after\nthat I felt the first Arrow of cruell Cupid within my breast, I bent my\nbow very strong, and now feare, (because it is bended so hard) lest my\nstring should breake: but that thou mayst the better please me, undresse\nthy haire and come and embrace me lovingly: whereupon shee made no long\ndelay, but set aside all the meat and wine, and then she unapparelled\nher selfe, and unattyred her haire, presenting her amiable body unto me\nin manner of faire Venus, when shee goeth under the waves of the sea.\nNow (quoth shee) is come the houre of justing, now is come the time of\nwarre, wherefore shew thy selfe like unto a man, for I will not retyre,\nI will not fly the field, see then thou bee valiant, see thou be\ncouragious, since there is no time appointed when our skirmish shall\ncease. In saying these words shee came to me to bed, and embraced me\nsweetly, and so wee passed all the night in pastime and pleasure,\nand never slept until it was day: but we would eftsoones refresh our\nwearinesse, and provoke our pleasure, and renew our venery by drinking\nof wine. In which sort we pleasantly passed away many other nights\nfollowing.\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\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\nyou tarry not long at supper there, for there is a rabblement of common\nBarrettors and disturbers of the publique peace, that rove about in\nthe streets 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 you,\nby reason of your comelinesse and audacity, in that you are not afeared\nat 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's\nhouse a great company of strangers, and the chiefe and principall of the\ncity: the beds made of Citron and Ivory, were richly adorned and spread\nwith cloath of gold, the Cups were garnished pretiously, and there were\ndivers other things of sundry fashion, but of like estimation and price:\nhere stood a glasse gorgeously wrought, there stood another of Christall\nfinely painted. There stood a cup of glittering silver, and there stood\nanother of shining gold, and here was another of amber artificially\ncarved and made with pretious stones. Finally, there was all things\nthat might be desired: the Servitors waited orderly at the table in rich\napparell, the pages arrayed in silke robes, did fill great gemmes and\npearles made in the forme of cups, with excellent wine. Then one brought\nin Candles and Torches, and when we were set down and placed in order,\nwe began to talke, to laugh, and to be merry. And Byrrhena spake unto\nmee and sayd, I pray you Cousine how like you our countrey? Verily I\nthink there is no other City which hath the like Temples, Baynes, and\nother commodities which we have here. Further we have abundance of\nhousehold stuffe, we have pleasure, we have ease, and when the Roman\nmerchants arrive in this City they are gently and quietly entertained,\nand all that dwell within this province (when they purpose to solace and\nrepose themselves) do come to this city. Whereunto I answered, Verily\n(quoth I) you tell truth, for I can finde no place in all the world\nwhich I like better than this, but I greatly feare the blind inevitable\ntrenches of witches, for they say that the dead bodies are digged out of\ntheir graves, and the bones of them that are burnt be stollen away, and\nthe toes 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 their\ngazing, and somewhat angry withall, would have risen from the table, had\nnot Byrrhena spake unto him and sayd, I pray thee friend Bellerophon sit\nstill and according to thy accustomed curtesie declare unto us the losse\nof thy nose and eares, to the end that my cousin Lucius may be delighted\nwith the pleasantnes of the tale. To whom he answered, Madam in the\noffice of your bounty shall prevaile herein, but the insolencie of some\nis not to be supported. This hee spake very angerly: But Byrrhena was\nearnest upon him, and assured him hee should have no wrong at any mans\nhand. Whereby he was inforced to declare the same, and so lapping up the\nend of the Table cloath and carpet together, hee leaned with his elbow\nthereon, and held out three forefingers of his right hand in manner of\nan orator, and sayd, When I was a young man I went unto a certaine city\ncalled Milet, to see the games and triumphs there named Olympia, and\nbeing desirous to come into this famous province, after that I had\ntravelled over all Thessaly, I fortuned in an evil hour to come to the\nCity Larissa, where while I went up and down to view the streets to\nseeke some reliefe for my poore estate (for I had spent all my money)\nI espied an old man standing on a stone in the middest of the market\nplace, crying with a loud voice and saying, that if any man would watch\na dead corps that night hee should be reasonably rewarded for this\npaines. Which when I heard, I sayd to one who passed by, What is here\nto doe? Do dead men use to run away in this Countrey? Then answered he,\nHold your peace, for you are but a Babe and a stranger here, and not\nwithout cause you are ignorant how you are in Thessaly, where the women\nWitches bite off by morsels the flesh and faces of dead men, and thereby\nwork their sorceries and inchantments. Then quoth I, In good fellowship\ntell me the order of this custody and how it is. Marry (quoth he) first\nyou must watch all the night, with your eyes bent continually upon the\nCorps, never looking off, nor moving aside. For these Witches do turn\nthemselves into sundry kindes of beasts, whereby they deceive the eyes\nof all men, sometimes they are transformed into birds, sometimes into\nDogs and Mice, and sometimes into flies. Moreover they will charme the\nkeepers of the corps asleepe, neither can it be declared what meanes and\nshifts these wicked women do use, to bring their purpose to passe: and\nthe reward 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 of\nhis face, hands or toes, the same shall be diminished and spoyled in the\nkeeper. Which when I heard him I tooke a good heart, and went unto the\nCrier and bid him cease, for I would take the matter in hand, and so\nI demanded what I should have. Marry (quoth he) a thousand pence, but\nbeware I say you young man, that you do wel defend the dead corps from\nthe wicked witches, for hee was the son of one of the chiefest of the\ncity. Tush (sayd I) you speak you cannot tell what, behold I am a man\nmade all of iron, and have never desire to sleepe, and am more quicke of\nsight than Lynx or Argus. I had scarse spoken these words, when he tooke\nme by the hand and brought mee to a certaine house, the gate whereof was\nclosed fast, so that I went through the wicket, then he brought me into\na chamber somewhat darke, and shewed me a Matron cloathed in mourning\nvesture, and weeping in lamentable wise. And he spake unto her and said,\nBehold here is one that will enterprise to watch the corpes of your\nhusband this night. Which when she heard she turned her blubbered face\ncovered with haire unto me saying, I pray you good man take good heed,\nand see well to your office. Have no care (quoth I) so you will give\nmee any thing above that which is due to be given. Wherewith shee was\ncontented, and then she arose and brought me into a chamber whereas the\ncorps lay covered with white sheets, and shee called seven witnesses,\nbefore whom she shewed the dead body, and every part and parcell\nthereof, and with weeping eyes desired them all to testifie the matter.\nWhich done, she sayd these words of course as follow: Behold, his nose\nis whole, his eyes safe, his eares without scarre, his lips untouched,\nand his chin sound: all which was written and noted in tables, and\nsubscribed with the hands of witnesses to confirme the same. Which done\nI sayd unto the matron, Madam I pray you that I may have all things here\nnecessary. What is that? (quoth she). Marry (quoth I) a great lampe with\noyle, pots of wine, and water to delay the same, and some other drinke\nand dainty dish that was left at supper. Then she shaked her head and\nsayd, Away fool as thou art, thinkest thou to play the glutton here and\nto looke for dainty meats where so long time hath not been seene any\nsmoke at all? Commest thou hither to eat, where we should weepe and\nlament? And therewithall she turned backe, and commanded her maiden\nMyrrhena to deliver me a lampe with oyle, which when shee had done they\nclosed the chamber doore and departed. Now when I was alone, I rubbed\nmyne eyes, and armed my selfe to keep the corpes, and to the intent I\nwould not sleepe, I began to sing, and so I passed the time until it was\nmidnight, when as behold there crept in a Wesel into the chamber, and\nshe came against me and put me in very great feare, insomuch that I\nmarvelled greatly at the audacity of so little a beast. To whom I said,\nget thou hence thou whore and hie thee to thy fellowes, lest thou feele\nmy fingers. Why wilt thou not goe? Then incontinently she ranne away,\nand when she was gon, I fell on the ground so fast asleepe, that Apollo\nhimself could not discern which of us two was the dead corps, for I lay\nprostrat as one without life, and needed a keeper likewise. At length\nthe cockes began to crow, declaring that it was day: wherewithall I\nawaked, and being greatly afeard ran to the dead body with the lamp\nin my hand, and I viewed him round about: and immediately came in the\nmatron weeping with her Witnesses, and ran to the corps, and eftsoons\nkissing him, she turned his body and found no part diminished. Then she\nwilled Philodespotus her steward to pay me my wages forthwith. Which\nwhen he had done he sayd, We thanke you gentle young man for your paines\nand verily 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 strook\nme in the sides, some kicked me, and some tare my garments, and so I was\nhandled amongst them and driven from the house, as the proud young man\nAdonis who was torn by a Bore. And when I was come into the next street,\nI mused with my selfe, and remembred myne unwise and unadvised words\nwhich I had spoken, whereby I considered that I had deserved much more\npunishment, and that I was worthily beaten for my folly. And by and by\nthe corps came forth, which because it was the body of one of the chiefe\nof the city, was carried in funeral pompe round about the market place,\naccording to the right of the countrey there. And forthwith stepped out\nan old man weeping and lamenting, and ranne unto the Biere and embraced\nit, and with deepe sighes and sobs cried out in this sort, O masters, I\npray you by the faith which you professe, and by the duty which you owe\nunto the weale publique, take pitty and mercy upon this dead corps, who\nis miserably murdered, and doe vengeance on this wicked and cursed woman\nhis wife which hath committed this fact: for it is shee and no other\nwhich hath poysoned her husband my sisters sonne, to the intent to\nmaintaine her whoredome, and to get his heritage. In this sort the old\nman complained before the face of all people. Then they (astonied at\nthese sayings, and because the thing seemed to be true) cried out, Burne\nher, burne her, and they sought for stones to throw at her, and willed\nthe boys in the street to doe the same. But shee weeping in lamentable\nwise, did swear by all the gods, that shee was not culpable of this\ncrime. No quoth the old man, here is one sent by the providence of\nGod to try out the matter, even Zachlas an Egypptian, who is the most\nprincipall Prophecier in all this countrey, and who was hired of me for\nmoney to reduce the soule of this man from hell, and to revive his body\nfor the triall hereof. And therewithall he brought forth a certaine\nyoung man cloathed in linnen rayment, having on his feet a paire of\npantofiles, and his crowne shaven, who kissed his hands and knees,\nsaying, O priest have mercy, have mercy I pray thee by the Celestiall\nPlanets, by the Powers infernall, by the vertue of the naturall\nelements, by the silences of the night, by the building of Swallows nigh\nunto the towne Copton, by the increase of the floud Nilus, by the secret\nmysteries of Memphis, and by the instruments and trumpets of the Isle\nPharos, have mercy I say, and call to life this dead body, and make that\nhis eyes which he closed and shut, may be open and see. Howbeit we meane\nnot to strive against the law of death, neither intend we to deprive the\nearth of his right, but to the end this fact may be knowne, we crave\nbut a small time and space of life. Whereat this Prophet was mooved, and\ntook a certaine herb and layd it three times against the mouth of the\ndead, and he took another and laid upon his breast in like sort. Thus\nwhen hee 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 pressed\nin amongst them nigh unto the biere, and got upon a stone to see this\nmysterie, and behold incontinently the dead body began to receive\nspirit, his principall veines did moove, his life came again and he held\nup his head and spake in this sort: Why doe you call mee backe againe to\nthis transitorie life, that have already tasted of the water of Lethe,\nand likewise been in the deadly den of Styx? Leave off, I pray, leave\noff, and let me lie in quiet rest. When these words were uttered by the\ndead corps, the Prophet drew nigh unto the Biere and sayd, I charge\nthee to tell before the face of all the people here the occasion of thy\ndeath: What, dost thou thinke that I cannot by my conjurations call up\nthe dead, and by my puissance torment thy body? Then the corps moved\nhis head again, and made reverence to the people and sayd, Verily I was\npoisoned by the meanes of my wicked wife, and so thereby yeelded my\nbed unto an adulterer. Whereat his wife taking present audacity, and\nreproving his sayings, with a cursed minde did deny it. The people were\nbent against her sundry wayes, some thought best that shee should be\nburied alive with her husband: but some said that there ought no credit\nto be given to the dead body. Which opinion was cleane taken away, by\nthe words which the corps spoke againe and sayd, Behold I will give\nyou some evident token, which never yet any other man knew, whereby\nyou shall perceive that I declare the truth: and by and by he pointed\ntowards me that stood on the stone, and sayd, When this the good Gard of\nmy body watched me diligently in the night, and that the wicked Witches\nand enchantresses came into the chamber to spoyle mee of my limbes, and\nto bring such their purpose did transforme themselves into the shape\nof beasts: and when as they could in no wise deceive or beguile his\nvigilant eyes, they cast him into so dead and sound a sleepe, that by\ntheir witchcraft he seemed without spirit or life. After this they did\ncall me by my name, and never did cease til as the cold members of my\nbody began by little and little and little to revive. Then he being of\nmore lively soule, howbeit buried in sleep, in that he and I were named\nby one name, and because he knew not that they called me, rose up first,\nand as one without sence or perseverance passed by the dore fast closed,\nunto a certain hole, whereas the Witches cut off first his nose, and\nthen his ears, and so that was done to him which was appointed to be\ndone to me. And that such their subtility might not be perceived, they\nmade him a like paire of eares and nose of wax: wherfore you may see\nthat the poore miser for lucre of a little mony sustained losse of his\nmembers. Which when he had said I was greatly astonied, and minding to\nprove whether his words were true or no, put my hand to my nose, and my\nnose fell off, and put my hand to my ears and my ears fell off. Wherat\nall the people wondred greatly, and laughed me to scorne: but I beeing\nstrucken in a cold sweat, crept between their legs for shame and escaped\naway. So I disfigured returned home againe, and covered the losse of\nmyne ears with my long hair, and glewed this clout to my face to hide my\nshame. As soon as Bellephoron had told his tale, they which sate at the\ntable replenished with wine, laughed heartily. And while they drank one\nto another, Byrrhena spake to me and said, from the first foundation of\nthis city we have a custome to celebrate the festivall day of the god\nRisus, and to-morrow is the feast when as I pray you to bee present, to\nset out the same more honourably, and I would with all my heart that you\ncould find or devise somewhat of your selfe, that might be in honour\nof so great a god. To whom I answered, verily cousin I will do as you\ncommand me, and right glad would I be, if I might invent any laughing\nor merry matter to please of satisfy Risus withall. Then I rose from the\ntable and took leave of Byrrhena and departed. And when I came into the\nfirst street my torch went out, that with great pain I could scarce get\nhome, by reason it was so dark, for ear of stumbling: and when I was\nwell nigh come unto the dore, behold I saw three men of great stature,\nheaving and lifting at Milos gates to get in: and when they saw me they\nwere nothing 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 of\nthose Theeves, like Hercules when he fought against the king Gerion, I\nwent to my chamber and layd me down to sleep.\n\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\nWhen morning was come, and that I was awaked from sleep, my heart burned\nsore with remembrance of the murther I had committed the night before:\nand I rose and sate downe on the side of the bed with my legges acrosse,\nand wringing my hands, I weeped in most miserable sort. For I imagined\nwith my selfe, that I was brought before the Judge in the Judgement\nplace, and that he awarded sentence against me, and that the hangman was\nready to lead me to the gallows. And further I imagined and sayd, Alasse\nwhat Judge is he that is so gentle or benigne, that will thinke that I\nam unguilty of the slaughter and murther of these three men. Howbeit the\nAssyrian Diophanes did firmely assure unto me, that my peregrination\nand voyage hither should be prosperous. But while I did thus unfold my\nsorrowes, and greatly bewail my fortune, behold I heard a great noyse\nand cry at the dore, and in came the Magistrates and officers, who\ncommanded two sergeants to binde and leade me to prison, whereunto I was\nwillingly obedient, and as they led me through the street, all the City\ngathered together and followed me, and although I looked always on the\nground for very shame, yet sometimes I cast my head aside and marvelled\ngreatly that among so many thousand people there was not one but laughed\nexceedingly. Finally, when they had brought me through all the streets\nof the city, in manner of those that go in procession, and do sacrifice\nto mitigate the ire of the gods, they placed mee in the Judgement hall,\nbefore the seat of the Judges: and after that the Crier had commanded\nall men to keep silence, and people desired the Judges to give sentence\nin the great Theatre, by reason of the great multitude that was there,\nwhereby they were in danger of stifling. And behold the prease of people\nincreased stil, some climed to the top of the house, some got upon the\nbeames, some upon the Images, and some thrust their heads through the\nwindowes, little regarding the dangers they were in, so they might see\nme.\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 it\nwas 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\nO most reverend and just Judges, the thing which I propose to declare to\nyou is no small matter, but toucheth the estate and tranquillity of this\nwhole City, and the punishment thereof may be a right good example to\nothers. Wherefore I pray you most venerable Fathers, to whom and every\none of whom it doth appertain, to provide for the dignity and safety of\nthe Commonweale, that you would in no wise suffer this wicked Homicide,\nembrued with the bloud of so many murthered citisens, to escape\nunpunished. And thinke you not that I am moved thereunto by envy or\nhatred, but by reason of my office, in that I am captain of the night\nWatch, and because no man alive should accuse mee to bee remisse in the\nsame I wil declare all the whole matter, orderly as it was done last\nnight.\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 suffereth\nno heynous offence to pass unpunished, hee was taken by us this morning\nbefore he escaped any further, and so brought hither to your honourable\npresence 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\nan alien, when as you would most severely and sharply revenge such\nan offence 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 gan\nsay, Verily I know that it is an hard thing for him that is accused to\nhave slaine three persons, to perswade you that he is innocent, although\nhe should declare the whole truth, and confesse the matter how it was\nindeed, but if your honours will vouchsafe to give me audience, I will\nshew you, that if I am condemned to die, I have not deserved it as myne\nowne desert, but that I was mooved by fortune and reasonable cause to\ndoe that fact. For returning somewhat late from supper yester night\n(beeing well tippled with wine, which I will not deny) and approaching\nnigh to my common lodging, which was in the house of one Milo a Citisen\nof this city, I fortuned to espy three great theeves attempting to break\ndown his walls and gates, and to open the locks to enter in. And when\nthey had removed the dores out of the hookes, they consulted amongst\nthemselves, how they would handle such as they found in the house. And\none of them being of more courage, and of greater stature than the\nrest, spake unto his fellows and sayd, Tush you are but boyes, take mens\nhearts unto you, and let us enter into every part of the house, and such\nas we find asleep let us kill, and so by that meanes we shall escape\nwithout danger. Verily ye three Judges, I confess that I drew out my\nsword against those three Citizens, but I thought it was the office and\nduty of one that beareth good will to this weale publique, so to doe,\nespecially since they put me in great fear, and assayed to rob and spoyl\nmy friend Milo. But when those cruell and terrible men would in no case\nrun away, nor feare my naked sword, but boldly resist against me, I\nran upon them and fought valiantly. One of them which was the captain\ninvaded me strongly, and drew me by the haire with both his hands, and\nbegan to beat me with a great stone: but in the end I proved the hardier\nman, and threw him downe at my feet and killed him. I tooke likewise the\nsecond that clasped me about the legs and bit me, and slew him also.\nAnd the third that came running violently against me, after that I\nhad strucken him under the stomacke fell downe dead. Thus when I had\ndelivered my selfe, the house, Myne host, and all his family from this\npresent danger, I thought that I should not onely escape unpunished, but\nalso have some great reward of the city for my paines.\n\nMoreover, I that have always been clear and unspotted of crime, and that\nhave esteemed myne innocency above all the treasure of the world, can\nfinde no reasonable cause why upon myne accusation I should be condemned\nto die, since first I was mooved to set upon the theeves by just\noccasion. Secondly, because there is none that can affirm, that there\nhath been at any time either grudge or hatred between us. Thirdly, we\nwere men meere strangers and of no acquaintance. Last of all, no man can\nprove 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 mercy\nof the Commonweale and for the love of my poore infants and children, to\nshew me some pitty and favour. And when my hearts were somewhat relented\nand mooved by my lamentable teares, I called all the gods to witnesse\nthat I was unguilty of the crime, and so to their divine providence, I\ncommitted my present estate, but turning my selfe againe, I perceived\nthat all the people laughed exceedingly, and especially my good friend\nand host Milo. Then thought I with my selfe, Alasse where is faith?\nWhere is remorse of conscience? Behold I am condemned to die as a\nmurtherer, for the safeguard of myne Host Milo and his family. Yet is\nhe not contented with that, but likewise laugheth me to scorne, when\notherwise 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\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.\nAnd after 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 great\nand valiant persons, wherefore the truth must be tried out by the racke,\nand so wee shall learne what other companions he hath, and root out the\nnest of these mischievous murtherers. And there was no long delay, but\naccording to the custome of Grecia, the fire, the wheele, and many other\ntorments were brought in. Then my sorrow encreased or rather doubled, in\nthat I could not end my life with whole and unperished members. And\nby and by the old woman, who troubled all the Court with her howling,\ndesired the Judges, that before I should be tormented on the racke, I\nmight uncover the bodies which I had slaine, that every man might\nsee their comely shape and youthfull beauty, and that I might receive\ncondign and worthy punishment, according to the quality of my offence:\nand therewithall shee made a sign of joy. Then the Judge commanded me\nforthwith to discover the bodies of the slain, lying upon the beere,\nwith myne own handes, but when I refused a good space, by reason I would\nnot make my fact apparent to the eies of all men, the Sergeant charged\nme by commandement of the Judges, and thrust me forward to do the\nsame. I being then forced by necessity, though it were against my wil,\nuncovered the bodies: but O good Lord what a strange sight did I see,\nwhat a monster? What sudden change of all my sorrows? I seemed as\nthough I were one of the house of Proserpina and of the family of death,\ninsomuch that I could not sufficiently expresse the forme of this new\nsight, so far was I amased and astonied thereat: for why, the bodies of\nthe three slaine men were no bodies, but three blown bladders mangled\nin divers places, and they seemed to be wounded in those parts where\nI remembred I wounded the theeves the night before. Whereat the people\nlaughed exceedingly: some rejoyced marvellously at the remembrance\nthereof, some held their stomackes that aked with joy, but every man\ndelighted at this passing sport, so passed out of the theatre. But I\nfrom the time that I uncovered the bodies stood stil as cold as ice,\nno otherwise than as the other statues and images there, neither came I\ninto my right senses, until such time as Milo my Host came and tooke mee\nby the hand, and with civil violence lead me away weeping and sobbing,\nwhether I would or no. And because that I might be seene, he brought me\nthrough many blind wayes and lanes to his house, where he went about to\ncomfort me, beeing sad and yet fearfull, with gentle entreaty of talke.\nBut he could in no wise mitigate my impatiency of the injury which I\nconceived within my minde. And behold, by and by the Magistrates and\nJudges with their ensignes entred into the house, and endeavoured to\npacify mee in this sort, saying, O Lucius, we are advertised of your\ndignity, and know the genealogie of your antient lineage, for the\nnobility of your Kinne doe possesse the greatest part of all this\nProvince: and thinke not that you have suffered the thing wherfore you\nweepe, to any reproach and ignominy, but put away all care and sorrow\nout of your minde. For this day, which we celebrate once a yeare in\nhonour of the god Risus, is alwaies renowned with some solemne novel,\nand the god doth continually accompany with the inventor therof, and wil\nnot suffer that he should be sorrowfull, but pleasantly beare a joyfull\nface. And verily all the City for the grace that is in you, intend to\nreward you with great honours, and to make you a Patron. And further\nthat your statue or image 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 worthy\nthan 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 I\nreverently 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,\nyour cousin Byrrhena desireth you to take the paines according to your\npromise yester night, to come to supper, for it is ready. But I\ngreatly fearing 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\nme by 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 led\nme towards the next Baine: but by the way I went couching under him,\nto hide my selfe from the sight of men, because I had ministred such\nan occasion of laughter. And when I had washed and wiped my selfe, and\nreturned home againe, I never remembred any such thing, so greatly was\nI abashed at the nodding and pointing of every person. Then went I to\nsupper with Milo, where God wot we fared but meanly. Wherefore feigning\nthat my head did ake by reason of my sobbing and weeping all day, I\ndesired 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\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\nThe I, very curious and desirous to know the matter, answered, In faith\n(quoth I), this most pestilent and evill favoured whip which thou hast\nbrought to scourge thee withal, shal first be broken in a thousand\npieces, than it should touch or hurt thy delicate and dainty skin. But I\npray you tell me how have you been the cause and mean of my trouble and\nsorrow? For I dare sweare by the love that I beare unto you, and I will\nnot be perswaded, though you your selfe should endeavour the same, that\never you went to trouble or harm me: perhaps sometimes you imagined an\nevil thought in your mind, which afterwards you revoked, but that is not\nto 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\nuttering any 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 with\na soft voice and said, I doe greatly feare to discover the privities\nof this house, and to utter the secret mysteries of my dame. But I have\nsuch confidence in you and in your wisedome, by reason that you are come\nof so noble a line, and endowed with so profound sapience, and further\ninstructed in so many holy and divine things, that you will faithfully\nkeepe silence, and that whatsoever I shall reveale or declare unto\nyou, you would close them within the bottome of your heart, and never\ndiscover the same: for I ensure you, the love that I beare unto you,\nenforceth mee to utter it. Now shal you know all the estate of our\nhouse, now shal you know the hidden secrets of my mistres, unto whome\nthe powers of hel do obey, and by whom the celestial planets are\ntroubled, the gods made weake, and the elements subdued, neither is the\nviolence of her art in more strength and force, than when she espieth\nsome comly young man that pleaseth her fancie, as oftentimes it hapneth,\nfor now she loveth one Boetian a fair and beautiful person, on whom she\nemployes al her sorcerie and enchantment, and I heard her say with mine\nown ears yester night, that if the Sun had not then presently gon downe,\nand the night come to minister convenient time to worke her magicall\nenticements, she would have brought perpetuall darkness over all the\nworld her selfe. And you shall know, that when she saw yester night,\nthis Boetian sitting at the Barbers a polling, when she came from the\nBaines shee secretly commanded me to gather up some of the haires of his\nhead which lay dispersed upon the ground, and to bring it home. Which\nwhen I thought to have done the Barber espied me, and by reason it was\nbruited though all the City that we were Witches and Enchantresses,\nhe cried out and said, Wil you never leave off stealing of young mens\nhaires? In faith I assure you, unlesse you cease your wicked sorceries,\nI will complaine to the Justices. Wherewithall he came angerly towards\nme, and tooke away the haire which I had gathered, out of my apron:\nwhich grieved me very much, for I knew my Mistresses manners, that she\nwould not be contented 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 return form 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 as\nwere drowned by tempest in the seas, she made ready the members of dead\nmen, as the nosethrils and fingers, shee set out the lumps of flesh of\nsuch as were hanged, the blood which she had reserved of such as were\nslaine and the jaw bones and teeth of willed beasts, then she said\ncertaine charmes over the haire, and dipped it in divers waters, as in\nWel water, Cow milk, mountain honey, and other liquor. Which when she\nhad done, she tied and lapped it up together, and with many perfumes\nand smells threw it into an hot fire to burn. Then by the great force\nof this sorcerie, and the violence of so many confections, those bodies\nwhose haire was burning in the fire, received humane shape, and felt,\nheard and walked: And smelling the sent of their owne haire, came and\nrapped at our doores in stead of Boetius. Then you being well tipled,\nand deceived by the obscurity of the night, drew out your sword\ncourageously like furious Ajax, and kild not as he did, whole heard\nof beastes, but three blowne skinnes, to the intent that I, after the\nslaughter of so many enemies, without effusion of bloud might embrace\nand kisse, not an homicide but an Utricide.\n\nThus when I was pleasantly mocked and taunted by Fotis, I sayd unto her,\nverily now may I for this atcheived enterprise be numbered as Hercules,\nwho by his valiant prowesse performed the twelve notable Labors, as\nGerion with three bodies, and as Cerberus with three heads, for I have\nslaine three blown goat skinnes. But to the end that I may pardon thee\nof that thing which though hast committed, perform, the thing which\nI most earnestly desire of thee, that is, bring me that I may see and\nbehold when thy mistresse goeth about any Sorcery or enchantment, and\nwhen she prayeth unto the gods: for I am very desirous to learne that\nart, and as it seemeth unto mee, thou thy selfe hath some experience in\nthe same. For this I know and plainly feele, That whereas I have always\nyrked and loathed the embrace of Matrones, I am so stricken and subdued\nwith thy shining eyes, ruddy cheekes, glittering haire, sweet cosses,\nand lilly white paps, that I have neither minde to goe home, nor to\ndepart hence, but esteeme the pleasure which I shall have with thee this\nnight, above all the joyes of the world. Then (quoth she) O my Lucius,\nhow willing would I be to fulfil your desire, but by reason shee is\nso hated, she getteth her selfe into solitary places, and out of the\npresence of every person, when she mindeth to work her enchantments.\nHowbeit I regarde more to gratify your request, than I doe esteeme the\ndanger of my life: and when I see opportunitie and time I will assuredly\nbring you word, so that you shal see all her enchantments, but always\nupon this condition, that you secretly keepe close such things as are\ndone.\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\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 kindes\nof Boxes, of the which she opened one, and tempered the ointment therein\nwith her fingers, and then rubbed her body therewith from the sole of\nthe foot to the crowne of the head, and when she had spoken privily with\nher selfe, having the candle in her hand, she shaked the parts of her\nbody, and behold, I perceived a plume of feathers did burgen out, her\nnose waxed crooked and hard, her nailes turned into clawes, and so she\nbecame an Owle. Then she cried and screeched like a bird of that kinde,\nand willing to proove her force, mooved her selfe from the ground by\nlittle and little, til at last she flew quite away.\n\nThus by her sorcery shee transformed her body into what shape she would.\nWhich when I saw I was greatly astonied: and although I was inchanted by\nno kind of charme, yet I thought that I seemed not to have the likenesse\nof Lucius, for so was I banished from my sences, amazed in madnesse, and\nso I dreamed waking, that I felt myne eyes, whether I were asleepe or\nno. But when I was come againe to my selfe, I tooke Fotis by the hand,\nand moved it to my face and said, I pray thee while occasion doth serve,\nthat I may have the fruition of the fruits of my desire, and grant me\nsome of this oyntment. O Fotis I pray thee by thy sweet paps, to make\nthat in the great flames of my love I may be turned into a bird, so\nI will ever hereafter be bound unto you, and obedient to your\ncommandement. Then said Fotis, Wil you go about to deceive me now, and\ninforce me to work my own sorrow? Are you in the mind that you will not\ntarry in Thessaly? If you be a bird, where shall I seek you, and when\nshall I see you? Then answered I, God forbid that I should commit such\na crime, for though I could fly in the aire as an Eagle or though I were\nthe messenger of Jupiter, yet would I have recourse to nest with thee:\nand I swear by the knot of thy amiable hair, that since the time I first\nloved thee, I never fancied any other person: moreover, this commeth to\nmy minde, that if by the vertue of the oyntment I shall become an Owle,\nI will take heed I will come nigh no mans house: for I am not to learn,\nhow these matrons would handle their lovers, if they knew that they were\ntransformed into Owles: Moreover, when they are taken in any place they\nare nayled upon posts, and so they are worthily rewarded, because it\nis thought that they bring evill fortune to the house. But I pray you\n(which I had almost forgotten) to tell me by what meanes when I am an\nOwle, I shall return to my pristine shape, and become Lucius againe.\nFeare not (quoth she) for my mistres hath taught me the way to bring\nthat to passe, neither thinke you that she did it for any good will and\nfavour, but to the end that I might help her, and minister some remedy\nwhen 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 greedily\nthrust my hand into the box, and took out a good deale of oyntment and\nrubbed 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 Asse,\nand how he was led away by Theves.\n\nAfter that I had well rubbed every part and member of my body, I hovered\nwith myne armes, and moved my selfe, looking still when I should bee\nchanged into a Bird as Pamphiles was, and behold neither feathers nor\nappearance of feathers did burgen out, but verily my haire did turne\nin ruggednesse, and my tender skin waxed tough and hard, my fingers and\ntoes losing the number of five, changed into hoofes, and out of myne\narse grew a great taile, now my face became monstrous, my nosthrils\nwide, my lips hanging downe, and myne eares rugged with haire: neither\ncould I see any comfort of my transformation, for my members encreased\nlikewise, and so without all helpe (viewing every part of my poore body)\nI perceived that I was no bird, but a plaine Asse.\n\nThe I though to blame Fotis, but being deprived as wel of language as\nof humane shape, I looked upon her with my hanging lips and watery eyes.\nWho as soon as shee espied me in such sort, cried out, Alas poore wretch\nthat I am, I am utterly cast away. The feare I was in, and my haste hath\nbeguiled me, but especially the mistaking of the box, hath deceived me.\nBut it forceth not much, in regard a sooner medicine may be gotten for\nthis than for any other thing. For if thou couldst get a rose and eat\nit, thou shouldst be delivered from the shape of an Asse, and become\nmy Lucius againe. And would to God I had gathered some garlands this\nevening past, according to my custome, then thou shouldst not continue\nan Asse one nights space, but in the morning I shall seek some remedy.\nThus Fotis lamented in pittifull sort, but I that was now a perfect\nasse, and for Lucius a brute beast, did yet retaine the sence and\nunderstanding 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 shaking\nmyne head, and dissembling myne ire, and taking my adversity in good\npart, I went into the stable to my owne horse, where I found another\nasse of Milos, somtime my host, and I did verily think that mine owne\nhorse (if there were any natural conscience or knowledge in brute\nbeasts) would take pitty on me, and profer me lodging for that night:\nbut it chanced far otherwise. For see, my horse and the asse as it were\nconsented together to work my harm, and fearing lest I should eat up\ntheir provender, would in no wise suffer me to come nigh the manger, but\nkicked me with their heels from their meat, which I my self gave them\nthe night before. Then I being thus handled by them, and driven away,\ngot me into a corner of the stable, where while I remembred their\nuncurtesie, and how on the morrow I should return to Lucius by the help\nof a Rose, when as I thought to revenge my selfe of myne owne horse, I\nfortuned to espy in the middle of a pillar sustaining the rafters of the\nstable the image of the goddesse Hippone, which was garnished and decked\nround about with faire and fresh roses: then in hope of present remedy,\nI leaped up with my fore feet as high as I could, stretching out my\nneck, and with my lips coveting to snatch some roses. But in an evill\nhoure I did go about that enterprise, for behold the boy to whom I gave\ncharge of my horse, came presently in, and finding me climbing upon the\npillar, ranne fretting towards me and said, How long shall wee suffer\nthis wild Asse, that doth not onely eat up his fellowes meat, but also\nwould spoyl the images of the gods? Why doe I not kill this lame theefe\nand weake wretch. And therewithall looking about for some cudgel, hee\nespied where lay a fagot of wood, and chusing out a crabbed truncheon\nof the biggest hee could finde, did never cease beating of mee poore\nwretch, until such time as by great noyse and rumbling, hee heard\nthe doores of the house burst open, and the neighbours crying in most\nlamentable sort, which enforced him being stricken in feare, to fly his\nway. And by and by a troupe of theeves entred in, and kept every part\nand corner of the house with weapons. And as men resorted to aid and\nhelp them which were within the doores, the theeves resisted and kept\nthem back, for every man was armed with a sword and target in his hand,\nthe glimpses whereof did yeeld out such light as if it had bin day. Then\nthey brake open a great chest with double locks and bolts, wherein was\nlayd all the treasure of Milo, and ransackt the same: which when they\nhad done they packed it up and gave every man a portion to carry: but\nwhen they had more than they could beare away, yet were they loth to\nleave any behind, but came into the stable, and took us two poore asses\nand my horse, and laded us with greater trusses than wee were able to\nbeare. And when we were out of the house, they followed us with great\nstaves, and willed one of their fellows to tarry behind, and bring\nthem tydings what was done concerning the robbery: and so they beat us\nforward over great hils out of the way. But I, what with my heavy\nburden and long journy, did nothing differ from a dead asse: wherfore I\ndetermined with my self to seek some civil remedy, and by invocation\nof the name of the prince of the country to be delivered from so many\nmiseries: and on a time I passed through a great faire, I came among a\nmultitude of Greeks, and I thought to call upon the renowned name of the\nEmperor and say, O Cesar, and cried out aloud O, but Cesar I could in\nno wise pronounce. The Theeves little regarding my crying, did lay me on\nand beat my wretched skinne in such sort, that after it was neither apt\nnor meet to make Sives or Sarces. Howbeit at last Jupiter administred\nto me an unhoped remedy. For when we had passed through many townes\nand villages, I fortuned to espy a pleasant garden, wherein beside many\nother flowers of delectable hiew, were new and fresh roses: and being\nvery joyful, and desirous to catch some as I passed by, I drew neerer\nand neerer: and while my lips watered upon them, I thought of a better\nadvice more profitable for me, lest if from an asse I should become a\nman, I might fall into the hands of the theeves, and either by suspition\nthat I were some witch, or for feare that I should utter their theft,\nI should be slaine, wherefore I abstained for that time from eating of\nRoses, and enduring my present adversity, I did eat hay as other Asses\ndid.\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTH BOOKE\n\n\n\n\nTHE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER\n\nHow Apuleius thinking to eat Roses, was cruelly beaten by a Gardener,\nand chased by dogs.\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 being\nwell nigh perished with hunger, although I could find nothing there\nbut raw and green fallets, yet I filled my hungry guts therwithall\nabundantly, and praying unto all the gods, I looked about in every place\nif I could espy any red roses in the gardens by, and my solitary being\nalone did put me in good hope, that if I could find any remedy, I should\npresently of an Asse be changed into Lucius out of every mans sight. And\nwhile I considered these things, I loked about, and behold I saw a farre\noff a shadowed valley adjoyning nigh unto a wood, where amongst divers\nother hearbes and pleasant verdures, me thought I saw bright flourishing\nRoses of bright damaske colour; and said within my bestaill minde,\nVerily that place is the place of Venus and the Graces, where secretly\nglistereth the royall hew, of so lively and delectable a floure. Then I\ndesiring the help of the guide of my good fortune, ranne lustily towards\nthe wood, insomuch that I felt myself that I was no more an Asse, but a\nswift coursing horse: but my agility and quicknes could not prevent the\ncruelty of my fortune, for when I came to the place I perceived that\nthey were no roses, neither tender nor pleasant, neither moystened with\nthe heavenly drops of dew, nor celestial liquor, which grew out of the\nthicket and thornes there. Neither did I perceive that there was any\nvalley at all, but onely the bank of the river, environed with great\nthick trees, which had long branches like unto lawrell, and bearing a\nflour without any manner of sent, and the common people call them by the\nname of Lawrel roses, which be very poyson to all manner of beasts. Then\nwas I so intangled with unhappy fortune that I little esteemed mine own\ndanger, and went willingly to eat of these roses, though I knew them to\nbe present poyson: and as I drew neere I saw a yong man that seemed\nto be the gardener, come upon mee, and when he perceived that I had\ndevoured all his hearbes in the garden, he came swearing with a great\nstaffe in his hand, and laid upon me in such sort, that I was well nigh\ndead, but I speedily devised some remedy my self, for I lift up my legs\nand kicked him with my hinder heels, that I left him lying at the hill\nfoot wel nigh slain, and so I ran away. Incontinently came out his wife,\nwho seeing her husband halfe dead, cried and howled in pittifull sort,\nand went 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\npul down bears and lions than me, whom when I beheld I thought verily\nI should 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 towne\ncalled in their dogs, and took me and bound mee to the staple of a post,\nand scourged me with a great knotted whip till I was well nigh dead, and\nthey would undoubtedly have slaine me, had it not come to passe, that\nwhat with the paine of their beating, and the greene hearbes that lay in\nmy guts, I caught such a laske that I all besprinkled their faces with\nmy liquid dung, and enforced them to leave off.\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\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 our\njourney what with the long way, my great burthen, the beating of staves,\nand my worne hooves, I was so weary that I could scantly go. Then I\nsaw a little before mee a river running with fair water, and I said to\nmyself, Behold, now I have found a good occasion: for I will fall down\nwhen I come yonder, and surely I will not rise againe, neither with\nscourging nor with beating, for I had rather be slaine there presently,\nthan 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\nmy further 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 ground\nas though hee were dead, and he would not rise neither with beating nor\nwith pricking, nor stand upon his legs, though they pulled him by the\ntail, by his legs, and by his eares: which when the theeves beheld, as\nwithout all hope they said one unto another, What should we stand here\nso long about a dead or rather a stony asse? let us bee gone: and so\nthey tooke his burthen, and divided some to mee, and some to my horse.\nAnd then they drew out their swords and cut off his legs, and threw\nhis body from the point of a hill down into a great valley. Then I\nconsidering with my selfe of the evill fortune of my poore companion,\nand purposed now to forget all subtility and deceit, and to play the\ngood Asse to get my masters favour, for I perceived by their talke that\nwe were come home well nigh at our journeys end. And after that wee had\npassed over a little hill, we came to our appointed place, and when we\nwere unladen of our burthens, and all things carried in, I tumbled and\nwallowed in the dust, to refresh my selfe in stead of water. The thing\nand the time compelleth me to make description of the places, and\nespecially of the den where the theeves did inhabit, I will prove my\nwit in what I can doe, and the consider you whether I was an Asse in\njudgement and sence, or no. For first there was an exceeding great hill\ncompassed about with big trees very high, with many turning bottoms full\nof sharp stones, whereby it was inaccessible. There was many winding\nand hollow vallies, environed with thickets and thornes, and naturally\nfortressed round about. From the top of the hill ranne a running water\nas cleare as silver, that watered all the valleyes below, that it seemed\nlike unto a sea inclosed, or a standing floud. Before the denne\nwhere was no hill stood an high tower, and at the foot thereof were\nsheep-coats fenced and walled with clay. Before the gate of the house\nwere pathes made in stead of wals, in such sort that you could easily\njudge it to be a very den for theeves, and there was nothing else except\na little coat covered with thatch, wherein the theeves did nightly\naccustome to watch by order, as I after perceived. And when they were\nall crept into the house, and we were all tied fast with halters at the\ndore, they began to chide with an old woman there, crooked with age, who\nhad the government and rule of all the house, and said, How is it old\nwitch, old trot, and strumpet, that thou sittest idley all day at home,\nand having no regard to our perillous labours, hast provided nothing for\nour suppers, but sittest eating and swilling thyself from morning till\nnight? Then the old woman trembled, and scantly able to speak gan\nsay, Behold my puissant and faithfull masters, you shall have meat and\npottage enough by and by: here is first store of bread, wine plenty,\nfilled in cleane rinsed pots, likewise here is hot water prepared to\nbathe 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 eat\nexceedingly, laughing, crying and making much noyse, that I thought that\nI was among the tyrannous and wilde Lapithes, Thebans, and Centaures.\nAt length one of them more valiant than the rest, spake in this sort, We\nverily have manfully conquered the house of Milo of Hippata, and beside\nall the riches and treasure which by force we have brought away, we are\nall come home safe, and are increased the more by this horse and this\nAsse. But you that have roved about in the country of Boetia, have lost\nyour valiante captaine Lamathus, whose life I more regarded than all the\ntreasure which you have brought: and therfore the memory of him shall\nbee renowned for ever amongst the most noble kings and valiant captains:\nbut you accustome when you goe abroad, like men with ganders hearts to\ncreepe through every corner and hole for every trifle. Then one of them\nthat came last answered, Why are you only ignorant, that the greater the\nnumber is, the sooner they may rob and spoyle the house? And although\nthe family be dispersed in divers lodgings, yet every man had rather\nto defend his own life, than to save the riches of his master: but\nwhen there be but a few theeves, then will they not only rather regard\nthemselves, but also their substance, how little or great soever it be.\nAnd to the intent you may beleeve me I will shew you an example: wee\nwere come nothing nigh to Thebes, where is the fountain of our art and\nscience, but we learned where a rich Chuffe called Chriseros did dwell,\nwho for fear of offices in the publique wel dissembled his estate,\nand lived sole and solitary in a small coat, howbeit replenished with\naboundance of treasure, and went daily in ragged and torn apparel.\nWherefore wee devised with our selves to go to his house and spoyl him\nof all his riches. And when night came we drew towards the dore, which\nwas so strongly closed, that we could neither move it, nor lift it out\nof the hooks, and we thought it best not to break it open lest by the\nnoyse we should raise up to our harm the neighbours by. Then our strong\nand valiant captaine Lamathus trusting in his own strength and force,\nthrust in his had through a hole in the dore, and thought to pull back\nthe bolt: but the covetous caitif Chriseros being awake, and making no\nnoise came softly to the dore and caught his hand and with a great naile\nnailed it fast to the post: which when he had done, he ran up to the\nhigh chamber and called every one of his neighbours by name, desiring\nthem to succour him with all possible speed, for his own house was on\nfire. Then every one for fear of his owne danger came running out to aid\nhim, wherewith we fearing our present peril, knew not what was best to\nbe don, whether wee should leave our companion there, or yeeld ourselves\nto die with him: but we by his consent devised a better way, for we cut\noff his arm by the elbow and so let it hang there: then wee bound his\nwound with clouts, lest we should be traced by the drops of blood: which\ndon we took Lamathus and led him away, for fear we would be taken: but\nbeing so nigh pursued that we were in present danger, and that Lamathus\ncould not keepe our company by reason of faintnesse; and on the other\nside perceiving that it was not for his profit to linger behinde, he\nspake unto us as a man of singular courage and vertue, desiring us by\nmuch entreaty and prayer and by the puissance of the god Mars, and the\nfaith of 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 could\nbe slaine by one of you. But when he saw that we all refused to commit\nany such fact, he drew out his sword with his other hand, and after\nthat he had often kissed it, he drove it clean through his body. Then\nwe honoured the corps of so puissant a man, and wrapped it in linnen\ncloathes and threw it into the sea. So lieth our master Lamathus, buried\nand did in the grave of water, and ended his life as I have declared.\nBut Alcinus, though he were a man of great enterprise, yet could he not\nbeware by Lamathus, nor voide himselfe from evill fortune, for on a day\nwhen he had entred into an old womans house to rob her, he went up into\na high chamber, where hee should first have strangled her: but he had\nmore regard to throw down the bags of mony and gold out at a window,\nto us that stood under; and when he was so greedy that he would leave\nnothing behinde, he went into the old womans bed where she lay asleep,\nand would have taken off the coverlet to have thrown downe likewise, but\nshee awaked, and kneeling on her knees, desired him in this manner:\nO sir I pray you cast not away such torn and ragged clouts into my\nneighbours houses, for they are rich enough, and need no such things.\nThen Alcinus thinking her words to be true, was brought in beleefe, that\nsuch things as he had throwne out already, and such things as hee should\nthrow out after, was not fallen downe to his fellowes, but to other mens\nhouses, wherefore hee went to the window to see, and as hee thought to\nbehold the places round about, thrusting his body out of the window, the\nold woman marked him wel, and came behind him softly, and though shee\nhad but small strength, yet with sudden force she tooke him by the\nheeles and thrust him out headlong, and so he fell upon a marvellous\ngreat stone and burst his ribs, wherby he vomited and spewed great\nflakes of blood, and presently died. Then wee threw him to the river\nlikewise, as we had done Lamathus before.\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 and\nhad prepared many showes and pleasures for the Common people, insomuch\nthat there is no man can either by wit or eloquence shew in words his\nworthy preparations: for first he had provided all sorts of armes, hee\ngreatly delighted in hunting and chasing, he ordained great towers and\nTables to move hither and thither: hee made many places to chase and\nencounter in: he had ready a great number of men and wilde beasts, and\nmany condemned persons were brought from the Judgement place, to try\nand fight with those beasts. But amongst so great preparations of noble\nprice, he bestowed the most part of his patrimony in buying of Beares,\nwhich he nourished to his great cost, and esteemed more than all the\nother beasts, which either by chasing hee caught himself, or which he\ndearely bought, or which were given him from divers 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 afflicted\nthat they died one after another, and there was well nigh none left, in\nsuch sort that you might see them lying in the streets pittiously dead.\nAnd the common people having no other meat to feed on, little regarding\nany curiosity, would come forth and fill their bellies with the flesh\nof the beares. Then by and by Babulus and I devised a pretty sport, wee\ndrew one of the greatest of the Beares to our lodging, as though wee\nwould prepare to eat thereof, where wee flayed of his skinne, and kept\nhis ungles whole, but we medled not with the head, but cut it off by\nthe necke, and so let it hang to the skinne. Then we rased off the flesh\nfrom the necke, and cast dust thereon, and set 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\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 rest\nboth 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 thus,\nwee feigned letters as though they came from one Nicanor which dwelt\nin the Country of Thracia, which was of great acquaintance with this\nDemochares, wherein we wrote, that hee had sent him being his friend,\nthe first fruits of his coursing and hunting. When night was come, which\nwas a meet time for our purpose, we brought Thrasileon and our forged\nletters and presented them to Demochares. When Demochares beheld\nthis mighty Beare, and saw the liberality of Nicanor his friend, hee\ncommanded his servants to deliver unto us x. crowns, having great store\nin his coffers. Then (as the novelty of a thing doth accustom to stir\nmens minds to behold the same) many persons came on every side to see\nthis 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\nI spake 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 which\nas I hear say have divers maladies and diseases, let him rather lie in\nsome open place in your house nie some water, where he may take air and\nease himself, for doe you not know that such kind of beasts do greatly\ndelight to couch under the shadow of trees and hillocks neer pleasant\nwells and waters? Hereby Demochares admonished, and remembring how many\nhe had before that perished, was contented that we should put the\nbear where we would. Moreover we said unto him, that we ourselves were\ndetermined to lie all night neer the Bear, to look unto him, and to give\nhim 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 gates\nof the town, we perceived before us a great sepulchre standing out of\nthe 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\nwe thought 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\nwe had 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 when\nthey would returne. The Beare running about the house, to make such of\nthe family afeared as fortuned to wake and come out. For who is he that\nis so puissant and couragious, that at the ougly sight of so great a\nmonster will not quayle and keep his chamber especially in the night?\nBut when wee had brought this matter to so good a point, there chanced a\npittifull case, for as I looked for my companions that should come from\nthe sepulchre, behold there was a Boy of the house that fortuned to\nlooke out of a window, and espied the Bear running about, and he went\nand told all the servants of the house. Whereupon incontinently they\ncame forth with Torches, Lanthornes, and other lights, that they might\nsee all the yard over: they came with clubs, speares, naked swords,\nGreyhounds, and Mastifes to slay the poore beast. Then I during this\nbroyle thought to run away, but because I would see Thrasileon fight\nwith the Dogs, I lay behinde the gate to behold him. And although I\nmight perceive that he was well nigh dead, yet remembred he his owne\nfaithfulnes and ours, and valiantly resisted the gaping and ravenous\nmouths of the hell hounds, so tooke hee in gree the pagiant which\nwillingly he tooke in hand himself, and with much adoe tumbled at length\nout of the house: but when hee was at liberty abroad yet could he not\nsave himself, for all the dogs of the Streete joyned themselves to the\ngreyhounds and mastifes of the house, and came upon 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 glory\nenough did finish his life, with such a terror unto the assembly, that\nno person was hardy until it was day, as to touch him, though hee were\nstarke dead: but at last there came a Butcher more valiant than the\nrest, who opening the panch of the beast, slit out an hardy and ventrous\ntheefe.\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 the\nsepulchre to keepe, and got out of the bounds of Platea, thus thinking\nwith our selves, that there was more fidelity amongst the dead than\namongst the living, by reason that our preyes were so surely kept in the\nsepulchre. So being wearied with the weight of our burthens, and well\nnigh tyred with long travell, having lost three of our soldiers, we are\ncome 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 measure,\ninsomuch that my horse fed so abundantly that he might well thinke hee\nwas at some banquet that day. But I that was accustomed to eat bran\nand flower, thought that but a sower kinde of meate. Wherfore espying a\ncorner where lay loaves of bread for all the house I got me thither and\nfilled 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\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 these\nthings the morning came, and being led to a river, notwithstanding\nmy Assie shamefastnesse I quencht my thirst. And suddenly after, the\nTheeves returned home carefull and heavy, bringing no burthens with\nthem, no not so much as traffe or baggage, save only a maiden, that\nseemed by her habit to be some gentlewoman borne, and the daughter of\nsome worthy matron of that country, who was so fair and beautiful, that\nthough I were an Asse, yet I had a great affection for her. The virgin\nlamented and tare her hair, and rent her garments, for the great sorrow\nshe was in; but the theeves brought her within the cave, and assisted\nher to comfort in this sort, Weep not fair gentlewoman we pray you, for\nbe you assured we wil do no outrage or violence to your person: but take\npatience a while for our profit, for necessity and poore estate hath\ncompelled us to do this enterprise: we warrant you that your parents,\nalthough they bee covetous, will be contented to give us a great\nquantity of mony to redeeme and ransome you 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\nas much 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\nI (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,\nand severely commanded her to tell her the cause of her sorrow, and\nwhy after 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 older\nthan I; we two were nourished and brought up in one house, lay under one\nroofe, and in one chamber, and at length by promise of marriage, and by\nconsent of our parents we were contracted together. The marriage day was\ncome, the house was garnished with lawrel, and torches were set in\nevery place in the honour of Hymeneus, my espouse was accompanied by his\nparents, kinsfolke, and friends, and made sacrifices in the temples and\npublique places. And when my unhappy mother pampered me in her lap, and\ndecked me like a bride, kissing me sweetly, and making me a parent for\nChildren, behold there came in a great multitude of theeves armed like\nmen of warre, with naked swords in their hands, who went not about\nto doe any harme, neither to take any thing away, but brake into the\nchamber where I was, and violently tooke me out of my mothers armes,\nwhen none of our family would resist for 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 out\nof our house, out of our chamber, and out of my bed, and that I removed\nabout in solitary and unknowne places, calling upon the name of my\nunfortunate husband, and how that he, as soone as he perceived that he\nwas taken away, even smelling with perfumes and crowned with garlands,\ndid trace me by the steppes, desiring the aid of the people to assist\nhim, in that his wife was violently stollen away, and as he went crying\nup and down, one of the theeves mooved with indignation, by reason of\nhis pursuit, took up a stone that lay at his feet, and threw it at my\nhusband and killed him. By the terror of which sight, and the feare of\nso 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\nof laughing, 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\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\nThere was sometimes a certaine King, inhabiting in the West parts,\nwho had 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 person,\nand deservedly to be preferred above the residue of the common sort.\nYet the singular passing beauty and maidenly majesty of the youngest\ndaughter did so farre surmount and excell then two, as no earthly\ncreature could by any meanes sufficiently expresse or set out the 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 beeing\ninwardly pricked by the zealous affection to behold her famous person,\ncame daily by thousands, hundreths, and scores, to her fathers palace,\nwho was astonied with admiration of her incomparable beauty, did no less\nworship and reverence her with crosses, signes, and tokens, and other\ndivine adorations, according to the custome of the old used rites and\nceremonies, than if she were the Lady Venus indeed, and shortly after\nthe fame was spread into the next cities and bordering regions, that the\ngoddess whom the deep seas had born and brought forth, and the froth of\nthe waves had nourished, to the intent to show her high magnificencie\nand divine power on earth, to such as erst did honour and worship her,\nwas now conversant among mortall men, or else that the earth and not\nthe sea, by a new concourse and influence of the celestiall planets,\nhad budded and yeelded forth a new Venus, endued with the floure of\nvirginity.\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\nland and by great perils on water, to behold this glorious virgin. By\noccasion wherof such a contempt grew towards the goddesse Venus, that no\nperson 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 with\nthe ashes of old burnt sacrifice. For why, every person honoured and\nworshipped 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,\nwith whome 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\nshape of 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: but\nshe, whatever she be that hath usurped myne honour, shal shortly repent\nher of her unlawful estate. And by and by she called her winged sonne\nCupid, rash enough and hardy, who by his evill manners contemning all\npublique justice and law, armed with fire and arrowes, running up and\ndown 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 to\nthe city, and shewed him Psyches (for so the maid was called) and having\ntold the cause of her anger, not without great rage, I pray thee (quoth\nshe) my dear childe, by motherly bond of love, by the sweet wounds\nof thy piercing darts, by the pleasant heate of thy fire, revenge the\ninjury which is done to thy mother by the false and disobedient beauty\nof a mortall maiden, and I pray thee, that without delay shee may fall\nin love with the most miserablest creature living, the most poore, the\nmost crooked, and the most vile, that there may bee none found in all\nthe world of like wretchednesse. When she had spoken these words she\nembraced and kissed her sonne, and took her voyage toward the sea.\n\nWhen she came upon the sea she began to cal the gods and goddesses,\nwho were 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, and\nblowing with heavenly noyse: such was the company which followed Venus,\nmarching towards the ocean sea.\n\nIn the meane season Psyches with all her beauty received no fruit\nof honor. 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 it\nwere some Image well painted and set out. Her other two sisters, which\nwere nothing so greatly exalted by the people, were royally married to\ntwo Kings: but the virgin Psyches, sitting alone at home, lamented her\nsolitary life, and being disquieted both in mind and body, although\nshe pleased all the world, yet hated shee in her selfe her owne beauty.\nWhereupon the miserable father of this unfortunate daughter, suspecting\nthat the gods and powers of heaven did envy her estate, went to the town\ncalled Milet to receive the Oracle of Apollo, where he made his prayers\nand offered sacrifice, and desired a husband for his daughter: but\nApollo though he were a Grecian, and of the country of Ionia, because of\nthe foundation of Milet, yet hee gave answer in Latine verse, the sence\nwhereof was this:--\n\n Let Psyches corps be clad in mourning weed,\n And set on rock of yonder hill aloft:\n Her husband is no wight of humane seed,\n But Serpent dire and fierce as might be thought.\n Who flies with wings above in starry skies,\n And doth subdue each thing with firie flight.\n The gods themselves, and powers that seem so wise,\n With mighty Jove, be subject to his might,\n The rivers blacke, and deadly flouds of paine\n And darkness eke, as thrall to him remaine.\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 should\nI 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 hill,\nand set [her] hereon, and so departed. The Torches and lights were\nput out with the teares of the people, and every man gone home, the\nmiserable Parents well nigh consumed with sorrow, gave themselves to\neverlasting 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 garments\nup, and by little and little bought her downe into a deepe valley,\nwhere 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 not\nby the art or hand of man, but by the mighty power of God: and you would\njudge at the first entry therin, that it were some pleasant and worthy\nmansion for the powers of heaven. For the embowings above were of\nCitron and Ivory, propped and undermined with pillars of gold, the walls\ncovered and seeled with silver, divers sorts of beasts were graven and\ncarved, that seemed to encounter with such as entered in. All things\nwere so curiously and finely wrought, that it seemed either to be the\nworke of some Demy god, or of God himselfe. The pavement was all of\npretious stones, divided and cut one from another, whereon was carved\ndivers kindes of pictures, in such sort that blessed and thrice blessed\nwere they that might goe upon such a pavement: Every part and angle of\nthe house was so well adorned, that by reason of the pretious stones and\ninestimable treasure there, it glittered and shone in such sort, that\nthe chambers, porches, and doores gave light as it had beene the Sunne.\nNeither otherwise did the other treasure of the house disagree unto\nso great a majesty, that verily it seemed in every point an heavenly\nPalace, 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 replenished\nwith aboundance of riches. Finally, there could nothing be devised\nwhich lacked there: but among such great store of treasure this was\nmost marvellous, that there was no closure, bolt, nor locke to keepe the\nsame. And when with great pleasure shee had viewed all these things, she\nheard a voyce without any body, that sayd, Why doe you marvell Madame\nat so great riches? behold, all that you see is at your commandement,\nwherefore goe you into the chamber, and repose your selfe upon the bed,\nand desire what bath you will have, and wee whose voyces you heare bee\nyour servants, and ready to minister unto you according to your desire.\nIn the meane season, royall meats and dainty dishes shall be prepared\nfor 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 no\nperson before her, but only heard voyces on every side. After that all\nthe services were brought to the table, one came in and sung invisibly,\nanother played on the harpe, but she saw no man. The harmony of the\nInstruments did so greatly shrill in her eares, that though there were\nno manner of person, yet seemed she in the midst of a multitude of\npeople.\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 father\nand mother did nothing but weepe and lament, and her two sisters hearing\nof her most miserable fortune, came with great dolour and sorrow to\ncomfort and speake with her parents.\n\nThe night following, Psyches husband spake unto her (for she might feele\nhis eyes, his hands, and his ears) and sayd, O my sweet Spowse and dear\nwife, fortune doth menace unto thee imminent danger, wherof I wish thee\ngreatly to beware: for know that thy sisters, thinking that thou art\ndead, bee greatly troubled, and are coming to the mountain by thy steps.\nWhose lamentations if thou fortune to heare, beware that thou doe in no\nwise make answer, or looke up towards them, for if thou doe thou shalt\npurchase to mee great sorrow, and to thyself utter destruction.\nPsyches hearing her Husband, was contented to doe all things as hee had\ncommanded.\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 sorrowful\nSisters, no nor once to see them. Thus she passed all the day in\nweeping, 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 too,\ndoe what ye will, purchase your owne destruction, and when you find it\nso, then remember my words, and repent but too late. Then she desired\nher husband more and more, assuring him that shee should die, unlesse he\nwould grant that she might see her sisters, wherby she might speak with\nthem and comfort them, wherat at length he was contented, and moreover\nhee willed that shee should give them as much gold and jewels as she\nwould. But he gave her a further charge saying, Beware that ye covet\nnot (being mooved by the pernicious counsell of you sisters) to see the\nshape of my person, lest by your curiosity you deprive your selfe of so\ngreat and worthy estate. Psyches being glad herewith, rendered unto him\nmost entire thankes, and said, Sweet husband, I had rather die than to\nbee separated from you, for whosoever you bee, I love and retaine you\nwithin my heart, as if you were myne owne spirit or Cupid himselfe: but\nI pray you grant this likewise, that you would commaund your servant\nZephyrus to bring my sisters downe into the 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 tears\nwere 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 them\nto hear the voyces which served her, the bain was ready, the meats were\nbrought in, and when they had filled themselves with divine delecates,\nthey conceived great envy within their hearts, and one of them being\ncurious, did demand what her husband was, of what estate, and who was\nLord of so pretious a house? But Psyches remembring the promise which\nshe had made to her husband, feigned that hee was a young man, of comely\nstature, with a flaxen beard, and had great delight in hunting the dales\nand hills by. And lest by her long talke she should be found to trip or\nfaile in her words, she filled their laps with gold, silver, and Jewels,\nand 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\nwe that 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 such\ngreat plenty of riches. Saw you not sister what was in the house, what\ngreat store of jewels, what glittering robes, what Gemmes, what gold we\ntrod on? That if shee hath a husband according as shee affirmeth, there\nis none that liveth this day more happy in all the world than she. And\nso it may come to passe, at length for the great affection which hee may\nbeare unto her that hee may make her a goddesse, for by Hercules, such\nwas her countenance, so she behaved her self, that as a goddesse she had\nvoices to serve her, and the windes did 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 to\nbe 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 sisters\nno 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 danger\nevill fortune doth threaten unto thee, whereof if thou take not good\nheed it will shortly come upon thee. For the unfaithfull harlots doe\ngreatly endeavor to set their snares to catch thee, and their purpose is\nto make and perswade thee to behold my face, which if thou once fortune\nto see, as I have often told, thou shalt see no more. Wherfore if these\nnaughty hagges, armed with wicked minds, doe chance to againe (as I\nthink no otherwise but that they will) take heed that thou talk not with\nthem but simply suffer them to speake what they will, howbeit if thou\ncanst not refraine thy selfe, beware that thou have no communication\nof thy husband, nor answer a word if they fortune to question of me, so\nwill we encrease our stocke, and this young and tender childe, couched\nin this young and tender belly of thine, shall be made an immortall god,\notherwise a mortal creature. Then Psyches was very glad that she should\nbring forth a divine babe, and very joyfull in that she should be\nhonored as a mother. She reckened and numbered carefully the days and\nmonths that passed, and beeing never with child before, did marvel\ngreatly that in so short a time her belly should swel so big. But those\npestilent and wicked furies breathing out their Serpentine poyson, took\nshipping to bring their enterprise to passe. The Psyches was warned\nagain by her husband in this sort: Behold the last day, the extream\ncase, and the enemies of thy blood, hath armed themselves against us,\npitched their campe, set their host in array, and are marching towards\nus, for now thy two sisters have drawn their swords and are ready\nto slay thee. O with what force are we assailed on this day! O sweet\nPsyches I pray thee to take pitty on thy selfe, of me, and deliver thy\nhusband and this infant within thy belly from so great danger, and see\nnot, neither heare these cursed women, which are not worthy to be called\nthy sisters, for their great hatred and breach of sisterly amity, for\nthey wil come like Syrens to the mountains, and yeeld out their pittious\nand lamentable cries. When Psyches had heard these words she sighed\nsorrowfully and said, O deare husband this long time have you had\nexperience and triall of my faith, and doubt you not that I will\npersever in the same, wherefore command your winde Zephyrus, that hee\nmay doe as hee hath done before, to the intent that where you have\ncharged me not to behold your venerable face, yet that I may comfort\nmyself with the sight of my sisters. I pray you by these beautifull\nhaires, by these round cheekes delicate and tender, by your pleasant hot\nbreast, whose shape and face I shall learn at length by the childe in my\nbelly, grant the fruit of my desire, refresh your deare Spowse Psyches\nwith joy, who is bound and linked unto you for ever. I little esteeme to\nsee your visage and figure, little doe I regard the night and darknesse\nthereof, for you are my only light.\n\nHer husband being as it were inchanted with these words and compelled by\nviolence of her often embracing, wiping away her teares with his haire,\ndid yeeld unto his wife. And when morning came, departed as hee was\naccustomed 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 their\nsister without leave, and when they had eftsoone embraced their prey,\nand thanked her with flattering words for the treasure which she gave\nthem, they said, O deare sister Psyches, know you that you are now no\nmore a child, but a mother: O what great joy beare you unto us in your\nbelly? What a comfort will it be unto all the house? How happy shall\nwe be, that shall see this Infant nourished amongst so great plenty of\nTreasure? That if he be like his parents, as it is necessary he should,\nthere is no doubt but a new cupid shall be borne. By this kinde of\nmeasures they went about to winne Psyches by little and little, but\nbecause they were wearie with travell, they sate them downe in chaires,\nand after that they had washed their bodies in baines they went into a\nparlour, where all kinde of meats were ready prepared. Psyches commanded\none to play with his harpe, it was done. Then immediately others sung,\nothers tuned their instruments, but no person was seene, by whose sweet\nharmony and modulation the sisters of Psyches were greatly delighted.\n\nHowbeit the wickednesse of these cursed women was nothing suppressed\nby the 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\nso short 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, or\nelse that she never saw the shape of her husband. And if it be so that\nshe never saw him, then verily she is married to some god, and hath a\nyoung god in her belly. But if it be a divine babe, and fortune to come\nto the eares of my mother (as God forbid it should) then may I go and\nhang my selfe: wherfore let us go to our parents, and with forged lies\nlet 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 eye\nlids, to enforce themselves to weepe, they called unto Psyches in this\nsort, Thou (ignorant of so great evill) thinkest thy selfe sure and\nhappy, and sittest at home nothing regarding thy peril, whereas wee goe\nabout thy affaires and are carefull lest any harme should happen unto\nyou: for we are credibly informed, neither can we but utter it unto you,\nthat there is a great serpent full of deadly poyson, with a ravenous\ngaping throat, that lieth with thee every night Remember the Oracle\nof Apollo, who pronounced that thou shouldest he married to a dire and\nfierce Serpent, and many of the Inhabitants hereby, and such as hunt\nabout in the countrey, affirme that they saw him yesternight returning\nfrom pasture and swimming over the River, whereby they doe undoubtedly\nsay, that hee will not pamper thee long with delicate meats, but when\nthe time of delivery shall approach he will devoure both thee and thy\nchild: wherefore advise thy selfe whether thou wilt agree unto us\nthat are carefull of thy safety, and so avoid the perill of death, bee\ncontented to live with thy sisters, or whether thou remaine with the\nSerpent and in the end be swallowed into the gulfe of his body. And\nif it be so that thy solitary life, thy conversation with voices, this\nservile and dangerous pleasure, and the love of the Serpent doe more\ndelight thee, say not but that we have played the parts of naturall\nsisters in warning thee.\n\nThen the poore and simple miser Psyches was mooved with the feare of\nso dreadful 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 great\nkindnesse toward me, and I am now verily perswaded that they which have\ninformed you hereof hath informed you of nothing but truth, for I never\nsaw the shape of my husband, neither know I from whence he came, only\nI heare his voice in the night, insomuch that I have an uncertaine\nhusband, and one that loveth not the light of the day: which causeth me\nto suspect that he is a beast, as you affirme. Moreover, I doe greatly\nfeare to see him, for he doth menace and threaten great evill unto mee,\nif I should goe about to spy and behold his shape wherefore my loving\nsisters if you have any wholeome remedy for your sister in danger, give\nit now presently. Then they opened the gates of their subtill mindes,\nand did put away all privy guile, and egged her forward in her fearefull\nthoughts, perswading her to doe as they would have her whereupon one\nof them began and sayd, Because that wee little esteeme any perill or\ndanger, to save your life we intend to shew you the best way and meane\nas we may possibly do. Take a sharpe razor and put it under the pillow\nof your bed; and see that you have ready a privy burning lampe with\noyle, hid under some part of the hanging of the chamber, and finely\ndissembling the matter when according to his custome he commeth to bed\nand sleepeth soundly, arise you secretly, and with your bare feet goe\nand take the lampe, with the Razor in your right hand and with valiant\nforce cut off the head of the poysonous serpent, wherein we will aid and\nassist you: and when by the death of him you shall be made safe, we wil\nmarry you to some comely man.\n\nAfter they had thus inflamed the heart of their sister fearing lest some\ndanger might happen unto them by reason of their evill counsell, they\nwere carried by the wind Zephyrus to the top of the mountaine, and so\nthey 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\nshe took 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\nand thought 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 saw\nhis haires of gold, that yeelded out a sweet savor, his neck more white\nthan milk, his purple cheeks, his haire hanging comely behinde and\nbefore, the brightnesse whereof did darken the light of the lamp, his\ntender plume feathers, dispersed upon his sholders like shining flours,\nand trembling hither and thither, and his other parts of his body so\nsmooth and so soft, that it did not repent Venus to beare such a childe.\nAt the beds feet lay his bow, quiver, and arrowes, that be the weapons\nof so great a god: which when Psyches did curiously behold, she\nmarvelling at her husbands weapons, took one of the arrows out of the\nquiver, and pricked her selfe withall, wherwith she was so grievously\nwounded that the blood followed, and thereby of her owne accord shee\nadded love upon love; then more broyling in the love of Cupid shee\nembraced him and kissed him and kissed him a thousand times, fearing the\nmeasure of his sleepe But alas while shee was in this great joy, whether\nit were for envy for desire to touch this amiable body likewise, there\nfell out a droppe of burning oyle from the lampe upon the right shoulder\nof the god. O rash and bold lampe, the vile ministery of love, how\ndarest thou bee so bold as to burne the god of all fire? When as he\ninvented thee, to the intent that all lovers might with more joy passe\nthe nights in pleasure.\n\nThe god beeing burned in this sort, and perceiving that promise and\nfaith was broken, bee 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 let\ngoe and fell downe upon the ground. But Cupid followed her downe, and\nlighted upon the top of a Cypresse tree, and angerly spake unto her in\nthis 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 shalt\nbe sufficiently punished by my absence. When hee had spoken these words\nhe tooke his flight into the aire. Then Psyches fell flat on the ground,\nand as long as she could see her husband she cast her eyes after him\ninto the aire, weeping and lamenting pitteously: but when hee was gone\nout of her sight shee threw her selfe into the next running river,\nfor the great anguish and dolour that shee was in for the lack of her\nhusband, howbeit the water would not suffer her to be drowned, but tooke\npity upon her, in the honour of Cupid which accustomed to broyle and\nburne the river, and threw her upon the bank amongst the herbs.\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 Psyches\nin sorrowful case, not ignorant (I know not by what meanes) of her\nmiserable estate, endeavored to pacific her in this sort: O faire maid,\nI am a rusticke and rude heardsman, howbeit by reason of my old age\nexpert in many things, for as farre as I can learnt by conjecture (which\naccording as wise men doe terme is called divination) I perceive by your\nuncertaine gate, your pale hew, your sobbing sighes, and your watery\neyes, that you are greatly in love. Wherefore hearken to me, and goe\nnot about to slay your selfe, nor weepe not at all, but rather adore\nand worship the great god Cupid, and winne him unto you by your gentle\npromise 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 of\nmy 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 say,\nHow darest thou be so bold to doe so great a mischiefe? Depart from me\nand take such things as thou didst bring: for I will have thy sister\n(and named you) to my wife, and she shall be placed in thy felicity, and\nby and by hee commaunded Zephyrus to carry me away from the bounds of\nhis 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\nher husband 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 sister\ndid dwel; to whom when shee had declared all such things as she told to\nher other sister shee ran likewise unto the rock and was slaine in like\nsort Then Psyches travelled about in the countrey to seeke her husband\nCupid, but he was gotten into his mothers chamber and there bewailed the\nsorrowful wound which he caught by the oyle of a burning lamp.\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 lasciviously\nuse to ryot in the sea: wherby they say that they are flow become\nno more gratious, pleasant nor gentle, but incivile, monstrous and\nhorrible. Moreover, that marriages are not for any amity, or for love of\nprocreation, but full of envy, discord, and debate. This the curious Gul\ndid clatter in the ears of Venus, reprehending her son. But Venus began\nto cry and sayd, What hath my sonne gotten any Love? I pray thee gentle\nbird that doest serve me so faithfully, tell me what she is, and what is\nher name that hath troubled my son in such sort? whether shee be any of\nthe Nymphs, of the number of the goddesses, of the company of the Muses,\nor of the mistery of the Graces? To whom the bird answered, Madam I know\nnot what shee is, but this I know that she is called Psyches. Then Venus\nwith indignation cried out, What is it she? the usurper of my beauty,\nthe Vicar of my name? What did he think that I was a bawd, by whose shew\nhe fell acquainted with the maid? And immediately she departed and went\nto her chamber, where she found her son wounded as it was told unto her,\nwhom when she beheld she cries out in 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 without\nall reverence, that thou art most worthy and excellent, and that I am\nnot able by reason of myne age to have another son, which if I should\nhave, thou shouldst well understand that I would beare a more worthier\nthan thou. But to worke thee a greater despight, I do determine to adopt\none of my servants, and to give him these wings, this fire, this bow,\nand these Arrowes, and all other furniture which I gave to thee, not\nto this purpose, neither is any thing given thee of thy father for this\nintent: but first thou hast been evill brought up and instructed in thy\nyouth thou hast thy hands ready and sharpe. Thou hast often offended thy\nantients, and especially me that am thy mother, thou hast pierced mee\nwith thy darts thou contemnest me as a widow, neither dost t thou\nregard thy valiant and invincible father, and to anger me more, thou art\namorous of harlots and wenches: hot I will cause that thou shalt shortly\nrepent thee, and that this marriage shal be dearely bought. To what a\npoint am I now driven? What shall I do? Whither shall I goe? How shall\nI represse this beast? Shall I aske ayd of myne enemy Sobriety, whom I\nhave often offended to engender thee? Or shall I seeke for counsel of\nevery poore rusticall woman? No, no, yet had I rather dye, howbeit I\nwill not cease my vengeance, to her must I have recourse for helpe, and\nto none other (I meane to Sobriety), who may correct thee sharpely, take\naway thy quiver, deprive thee of thy arrowes, unbend thy bow, quench thy\nfire, and which is more subdue thy body with punishment: and when that\nI have rased and cut off this thy haire, which I have dressed with myne\nowne hands, and made to glitter like gold, and when I have clipped thy\nwings, which I my selfe have caused to burgen, then shall I thinke to\nhave revenged my selfe sufficiently upon thee for the injury which thou\nhast done. When shee had spoken these words shee departed in a great\nrage out of her chamber.\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 name\nis Psyches, who is a vagabond, and runneth about the Countries, and (as\nI thinke) you are not ignorant of the brute of my son Cupid, and of his\ndemeanour, which I am ashamed to declare. Then they understanding the\nwhole matter, endeavoured to mitigate the ire of Venus in this sort:\nWhat is the cause Madam, or how hath your son so offended, that you\nshold so greatly accuse his love, and blame him by reason that he is\namorous? and why should you seeke the death of her, whom he doth fancie?\nWe most humbly intreat you to pardon his fault if he have accorded to\nthe mind of any maiden: what do you not know that he is a young man? Or\nhave you forgotten of what yeares he is? Doth he seeme alwayes unto\nyou to be a childe? You are his mother, and a kind woman, will you\ncontinually search out his dalliance? Will you blame his luxury? Will\nyou bridle his love? and will you reprehend your owne art and delights\nin him? What God or man is hee, that can endure that you should sowe or\ndisperse your seed of love in every place, and to make restraint thereof\nwithin your owne doores? certes you will be the cause of the suppression\nof the publike paces of young Dames. In this sort this goddesse\nendeavoured to pacifie her mind, and to excuse Cupid with al their power\n(although he were absent) for feare of his darts and shafts of love.\nBut Venus would in no wise asswage her heat, but (thinking that they\ndid rather trifle and taunt at her injuries) she departed from them,\nand tooke her voiage towards the sea in all haste. In the meane season\nPsyches hurled her selfe hither and thither, to seeke her husband, the\nrather because she thought that if he would not be appeased with the\nsweet flattery of his wife, yet he would take mercy on her at her\nservile and continuall prayers. And (espying a Church on the top of a\nhigh hill) she said, What can I tell whether my husband and master be\nthere or no? wherefore she went thitherward, and with great paine\nand travell, moved by hope, after that she climbed to the top of the\nmountaine, she came to the temple, and went in, wheras behold she espied\nsheffes of corn lying on a heap, blades withered with garlands, and\nreeds of barly, moreover she saw hooks, sithes, sickles, and other\ninstruments, to reape, but every thing lay out of order, and as it were\ncast in by the hands of laborers which when Psyches saw she gathered\nup and put everything in order, thinking that she would not despise or\ncontemne the temples of any of the Gods, but rather get the favour and\nbenevolence of them all: by and by Ceres came in, and beholding her\nbusie and curious in her chapell, cried out a far off, and said, O\nPsyches needfull of mercy, Venus searcheth for thee in every place to\nrevenge her selfe and to punish thee grievously, but thou hast more mind\nto be heere, and carest for nothing lesse, then for thy safety. Then\nPsyches fell on her knees before her, watring her feet with her teares,\nwiping the ground with her haire, and with great weeping and lamentation\ndesired pardon, saying, O great and holy Goddesse, I pray thee by thy\nplenteous and liberall right hand, by the joyfull ceremonies of thy\nharvest, by the secrets of thy Sacrifice, by the flying chariots of\nthy dragons, by the tillage of the ground of Sicilie, which thou hast\ninvented, by the marriage of Proserpin, by the diligent inquisition of\nthy daughter, and by the other secrets which are within the temple of\nEleusis in the land of Athens, take pitty on me thy servant Psyches, and\nlet me hide my selfe a few dayes amongst these sheffes of corne, untill\nthe ire of so great a Goddesse be past, or until that I be refreshed of\nmy great labour and travell. Then answered Ceres, Verely Psyches, I am\ngreatly moved by thy prayers and teares, and desire with all my heart\nto aide thee, but if I should suffer thee to be hidden here, I should\nincrease the displeasure of my Cosin, with whom I have made a treatie\nof peace, and an ancient promise of amity: wherefore I advise thee to\ndepart hence and take it not in evil part in that I will not suffer thee\nto abide and remaine here within my temple. Then Psyches driven away\ncontrary to her hope, was double afflicted with sorrow and so she\nreturned back againe. And behold she perceived a far off in a vally\na Temple standing within a Forest, faire and curiously wrought, and\nminding to over-passe no place whither better hope did direct her, and\nto the intent she would desire pardon of every God, she approached nigh\nunto the sacred doore, whereas she saw pretious riches and vestiments\ningraven with letters of gold, hanging upon branches of trees, and the\nposts of the temple testifying the name of the goddesse Juno, to whom\nthey were dedicate, then she kneeled downe upon her knees, and imbraced\nthe Alter with her hands, and wiping her teares, gan pray in this sort:\nO deere spouse and sister of the great God Jupiter which art adored and\nworshipped amongst the great temples of Samos, called upon by women\nwith child, worshipped at high Carthage, because thou wast brought from\nheaven by the lyon, the rivers of the floud Inachus do celebrate thee:\nand know that thou art the wife of the great god, and the goddesse of\ngoddesses; all the east part of the world have thee in veneration,\nall the world calleth thee Lucina: I pray thee to be my advocate in my\ntribulations, deliver me from the great danger which pursueth me, and\nsave me that am weary with so long labours and sorrow, for I know that\nit is thou that succorest and helpest such women as are with child and\nin danger. Then Juno hearing the prayers of Psyches, appeared unto her\nin all her royalty, saying, Certes Psyches I would gladly help thee, but\nI am ashamed to do any thing contrary to the will of my daughter in law\nVenus, whom alwaies I have loved as mine owne child, moreover I shall\nincurre the danger of the law, intituled, De servo corrupto, whereby\nam forbidden to retaine any servant fugitive, against the will of his\nMaster. Then Psyches cast off likewise by Juno, as without all hope of\nthe recovery of her husband, reasoned with her selfe in this sort: Now\nwhat comfort or remedy is left to my afflictions, when as my prayers\nwill nothing availe with the goddesses? what shall I do? whither shall I\ngo? In what cave or darknesse shall I hide my selfe, to avoid the\nfuror of Venus? Why do I not take a good heart, and offer my selfe with\nhumilitie unto her, whose anger I have wrought? What do I know whether\nhe (whom I seeke for) be in his mothers house or no? Thus being in\ndoubt, poore Psyches prepared her selfe to her owne danger, and devised\nhow she might make her orison and prayer unto Venus. After that Venus\nwas weary with searching by Sea and Land for Psyches, shee returned\ntoward heaven, and commanded that one should prepare her Chariot, which\nher husband Vulcanus gave unto her by reason of marriage, so finely\nwrought that neither gold nor silver could be compared to the\nbrightnesse therof. Four white pigeons guided the chariot with great\ndiligence, and when Venus was entred in a number of sparrowes flew\nchirping about, making signe of joy, and all other kind of birds sang\nsweetly, foreshewing the comming of the great goddesse: the clouds gave\nplace, the heavens opened, and received her joyfully, the birds that\nfollowed nothing feared the Eagle, Hawkes, or other ravenous foules of\nthe aire. Incontinently she went unto the royall Pallace of God Jupiter,\nand with a proud and bold petition demanded the service of Mercury, in\ncertaine of her affaires, whereunto Jupiter consented: then with much\njoy shee descended from Heaven with Mercury, and gave him an earnest\ncharge to put in execution her words, saying: O my Brother, borne\nin Arcadia, thou knowest well, that I (who am thy sister) did never\nenterprise to doe any thing without thy presence, thou knowest also how\nlong I have sought for a girle and cannot finde her, wherefore there\nresteth nothing else save that thou with thy trumpet doe pronounce the\nreward to such as take her: see thou put in execution my commandment,\nand declare that whatsoever he be that retaineth her wittingly, against\nmy will 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 the\nmatter) proclaimed throughout all the world, that whatsoever hee were\nthat could tell any tydings of a Kings fugitive Daughter, the servant\nof Venus, named Psyches, should bring word to Mercury, and for reward of\nhis paines, he should receive seaven sweet kisses of Venus After that\nMercury had pronounced these things, every man was enflamed with desire\nto search out Psyches.\n\nThis proclamation was the cause that put all doubt from Psyches, who was\nscantly come in the sight of the house of Venus, but one of her servants\ncalled Custome came out, who espying Psyches, cried with a loud voyce,\nsaying: O wicked harlot as thou art, now at length thou shalt know\nthat thou hast a mistresse above thee. What, dost thou make thy selfe\nignorant, as though thou didst not understand what travell wee have\ntaken in searching for thee? I am glad that thou art come into my\nhands, thou art now in the golfe of hell, and shalt abide the paine and\npunishment of thy great contumacy, and therewithall she tooke her by the\nhaire, and brought her in, before the presence of the goddesse Venus.\nWhen 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,\nI will 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,\nand after 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\na vile 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 made\nbetweene unequall persons, in the field without witnesses, and not by\nthe consent of parents, wherefore the marriage is illegitimate, and the\nchilde (that shall be borne) a bastard; if we fortune to suffer thee to\nlive so long till thou be delivered. When Venus had spoken these words\nshe leaped upon the face of poore Psyches, and (tearing her apparell)\ntooke her by the haire, and dashed her head upon the ground. Then she\ntooke a great quantity of wheat, of barly, poppy seede, peason, lintles,\nand beanes, and mingled them altogether on a heape saying: Thou evil\nfavoured girle, thou seemest unable to get the grace of thy lover, by\nno other meanes, but only by diligent and painefull service, wherefore I\nwill prove what thou canst doe: see that thou separate all these graines\none from another, disposing them orderly in their quantity, and let it\nbe done before night. When she had appointed this taske unto Psyches,\nshe departed to a great banket that was prepared that day. But Psyches\nwent not about to dissever the graine, (as being a thing impossible to\nbe brought to passe by reason it lay so confusedly scattered) but\nbeing astonyed at the cruell commandement of Venus, sate still and said\nnothing. Then the little pismire the emote, taking pitty of her great\ndifficulty and labour, cursing the cruellnesse of the daughter of\nJupiter, and of so evill a mother, ran about, hither and thither, and\ncalled to all her friends, Yee quick sons of the ground, the mother of\nall things, take mercy on this poore maid, espouse to Cupid, who is in\ngreat danger of her person, I pray you helpe her with all diligence.\nIncontinently one came after another, dissevering and dividing the\ngraine, and after that they had put each kinde of corne in order, they\nranne away againe in all haste. When night came, Venus returned home\nfrom the banket wel tippled with wine, smelling of balme, and crowned\nwith garlands of roses, who when shee had espied what Psyches had done,\ngan say, This is not the labour of thy hands, but rather of his that is\namorous of thee: then she gave her a morsel of brown bread, and went to\nsleep. In the mean season, Cupid was closed fast in the surest chamber\nof the house, partly because he should not hurt himself with wanton\ndalliance, and partly because he should not speake with his love: so\nthese two lovers were divided one from another. When night was passed\nVenus called Psyches, and said, Seest thou yonder Forest that extendeth\nout in length with the river? there be great sheepe shining like gold,\nand kept by no manner of person. I command thee that thou go thither\nand bring me home some of the wooll of their fleeces. Psyches arose\nwillingly not to do her commandement, but to throw her selfe headlong\ninto water to end her sorrows. Then a green reed inspired by divine\ninspiration, with a gratious tune and melody gan say, O Psyches I pray\nthee not to trouble or pollute my water by the death of thee, and yet\nbeware that thou goe not towards the terrible sheepe of this coast,\nuntill such time as the heat of the sunne be past, for when the sunne\nis in his force, then seeme they most dreadfull and furious, with their\nsharpe hornes, their stony foreheads and their gaping throats, wherewith\nthey arme themselves to the destruction of mankinde. But untill they\nhave refreshed themselves in the river, thou must hide thy selfe here\nby me, under this great plaine tree, and as soone as their great fury is\npast, thou maist goe among the thickets and bushes under the wood side\nand gather the lockes their golden Fleeces, which thou shalt finde\nhanging upon the briers. Then spake the gentle and benigne reed, shewing\na mean to Psyches to save her life, which she bore well in memory, and\nwith all diligence went and gathered up such lockes as shee found,\nand put them in her apron, and carried them home to Venus. Howbeit the\ndanger of this second labour did not please her, nor give her sufficient\nwitnesse of the good service of Psyches, but with a sower resemblance of\nlaughter, did say: Of a certaine I know that this is not thy fact, but I\nwill prove if that thou bee of so stout, so good a courage, and singular\nprudency as thou seemest to bee. Then Venus spake unto Psyches againe\nsaying: Seest thou the toppe of yonder great Hill, from whence there\nrunneth downe waters of blacke and deadly colour, which nourisheth the\nfloods of Stix, Cocytus? I charge thee to goe thither, and bring me a\nvessell of that water: wherewithall she gave her a bottle of Christall,\nmenacing and threatening her rigorously. Then poor Psyches went in all\nhaste to the top of the mountaine, rather to end her life, then to\nfetch any water, and when she was come up to the ridge of the hill, she\nperceived that it was impossible to bring it to passe: for she saw a\ngreat rocke gushing out most horrible fountaines of waters, which ran\ndowne and fell by many stops and passages into the valley beneath: on\neach side shee did see great Dragons, which were stretching out their\nlong and bloody Neckes, that did never sleepe, but appointed to keepe\nthe river there: the waters seemed to themselves likewise saying, Away;\naway, what wilt thou doe? flie, flie, or else thou wilt be slaine. Then\nPsyches (seeing the impossibility of this affaire) stood still as though\nshe were transformed into a stone and although she was present in body,\nyet was she absent in spirit and sense, by reason of the great perill\nwhich she saw, insomuch that she could not comfort her self with\nweeping, such was the present danger that she was in. But the royall\nbird of great Jupiter, the Eagle remembring his old service which he had\ndone, when as by the pricke of Cupid he brought up the boy Ganimedes, to\nthe heavens, to be made butler of Jupiter, and minding to shew the like\nservice in the person of the wife of Cupid, came from the high-house of\nthe Skies, and said unto Psyches, O simple woman without all experience,\ndoest thou thinke to get or dip up any drop of this dreadfull water? No,\nno, assure thy selfe thou art never able to come nigh it, for the Gods\nthemselves do greatly feare at the sight thereof. What, have you not\nheard, that it is a custome among men to sweare by the puissance of the\nGods, and the Gods do sweare by the majesty of the river Stix? but give\nme thy bottle, and sodainly he tooke it, and filled it with the water\nof the river, and taking his flight through those cruell and horrible\ndragons, brought it unto Psyches: who being very joyfull thereof,\npresented it to Venus, who would not yet be appeased, but menacing\nmore and more said, What, thou seemest unto me a very witch and\nenchauntresse, that bringest these things to passe, howbeit thou shalt\ndo nothing more. Take this box and to Hell to Proserpina, and desire her\nto send me a little of her beauty, as much as will serve me the space of\none day, and say that such as I had is consumed away since my sonne\nfell sicke, but returne againe quickly, for I must dresse my selfe\ntherewithall, and goe to the Theatre of the Gods: then poore Psyches\nperceived the end of all fortune, thinking verely that she should never\nreturne, and not without cause, when as she was compelled to go to the\ngulfe and furies of hell. Wherefore without any further delay, she went\nup to an high tower to throw her selfe downe headlong (thinking that it\nwas the next and readiest way to hell) but the tower (as inspired) spake\nunto her saying, O poore miser, why goest thou about to slay thy selfe?\nWhy dost thou rashly yeeld unto thy last perill and danger? know thou\nthat if thy spirit be once separated from thy body, thou shalt surely go\nto hell, but never to returne againe, wherefore harken to me; Lacedemon\na Citie in Greece is not farre hence: go thou thither and enquire for\nthe hill Tenarus, whereas thou shalt find a hold leading to hell, even\nto the Pallace of Pluto, but take heede thou go not with emptie hands\nto that 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 do\nnothing; by and by thou shalt come unto a river of hell, whereas Charon\nis ferriman, who will first have his fare paied him, before he will\ncarry the soules over the river in his boat, whereby you may see that\navarice raigneth amongst the dead, neither Charon nor Pluto will do any\nthing for nought: for if it be a poore man that would passe over and\nlacketh money, he shal be compelled to die in his journey before they\nwill shew him any reliefe, wherefore deliver to carraine Charon one of\nthe halfpence (which thou bearest for thy passage) and let him receive\nit out of thy mouth. And it shall come to passe as thou sittest in the\nboat thou shalt see an old man swimming on the top of the river, holding\nup his deadly hands, and desiring thee to receive him into the barke,\nbut have no regard to his piteous cry; when thou art passed over the\nfloud, 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\none of 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 marvailous\ndogge, with three heads, barking continually at the soules of such as\nenter in, but he can do them no other harme, he lieth day and night\nbefore the gate of Proserpina, and keepeth the house of Pluto with great\ndiligence, to whom if thou cast one of thy sops, thou maist have accesse\nto Proserpina without all danger: shee will make thee good cheere, and\nentertaine thee with delicate meate and drinke, but sit thou upon the\nground, and desire browne bread, and then declare thy message unto her,\nand when thou hast received such beauty as she giveth, in thy returne\nappease the rage of the dogge with thy other sop, and give thy other\nhalfe penny to covetous Charon, and come the same way againe into the\nworld as thou wentest: but above all things have a regard that thou\nlooke not in the boxe, neither be not too curious about the treasure\nof the divine beauty. In this manner tire tower spake unto Psyches, and\nadvertised her what she should do: and immediately she tooke two halfe\npence, two sops, and all things necessary, and went to the mountaine\nTenarus to go towards hell. After that Psyches had passed by the lame\nAsse, paid her halfe pennie for passage, neglected the old man in the\nriver, denyed to helpe the woman spinning, and filled the ravenous month\nof the dogge with a sop, shee came to the chamber of Proserpina. There\nPsyches would not sit in any royall seate, nor eate any delicate meates,\nbut kneeled at the feete of Proserpina, onely contented with course\nbread, declared her message, and after she had received a mysticall\nsecret in a boxe, she departed, and stopped the mouth of the dogge with\nthe other sop, and paied the boatman the other halfe penny. When Psyches\nwas returned from hell, to the light of the world, shee was ravished\nwith great desire, saying, Am not I a foole, that knowing that I carrie\nhere the divine beauty, will not take a little thereof to garnish my\nface, to please my love withall? And by and by shee opened the boxe\nwhere she could perceive no beauty nor any thing else, save onely an\ninfernall and deadly sleepe, which immediatly invaded all her members as\nsoone as the boxe was uncovered, in such sort that she fell downe upon\nthe ground, and lay there 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: well,\ngoe thou, and do thy message to my Mother, and in the meane season,\nI will provide for all things accordingly: wherewithall he tooke his\nflight into the aire, and Psyches brought her present to Venus.\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 the\ndiscipline Julia, and the utility of the publike weale, in transforming\nmy divine beauty into serpents, fire, savage beasts, birds, and into\nBulles: howbeit remembring my modesty, and that I have nourished thee\nwith mine owne proper hands, I will doe and accomplish all thy desire,\nso that thou canst beware of spitefull and envious persons. And if there\nbe any excellent Maiden of comely beauty in the world, remember yet the\nbenefit which I shall shew unto thee by recompence of her love towards\nme againe. When lie had spoken these words he commanded Mercury to call\nall the gods to counsell, and if any of the celestiall powers did\nfaile of appearance he would be condemned in ten thousand pounds: which\nsentence was such a terrour to all the goddesses, that the high Theatre\nwas replenished, and Jupiter began to speake in this sort: O yee gods,\nregistred in the bookes of the Muses, you all know this young man Cupid\nwhom I have nourished with mine owne hands, whose raging flames of his\nfirst youth, I thought best to bridle and restraine. It sufficeth that\nhee is defamed in every place for his adulterous living, wherefore all\noccasion ought to bee taken away by meane of marriage: he hath chosen a\nMaiden that fancieth him well, and hath bereaved her of her virginity,\nlet him have her still, and possesse her according to his owne pleasure:\nthen he returned to Venus, and said, And you my daughter, take you no\ncare, neither feare the dishonour of your progeny and estate, neither\nhave regard in that it is a mortall marriage, for it seemeth unto me\njust, lawfull, and legitimate by the law civill. Incontinently after\nJupiter commanded Mercury to bring up Psyches, the spouse of Cupid, into\nthe Pallace of heaven. And then he tooke a pot of immortality, and said,\nHold Psyches, and drinke, to the end thou maist be immortall, and that\nCupid may be thine everlasting husband. By and by the great banket and\nmarriage feast was sumptuously prepared, Cupid sate downe with his deare\nspouse between his armes: Juno likewise with Jupiter, and all the other\ngods in order, Ganimedes filled the pot of Jupiter, and Bacchus served\nthe rest. Their drinke was Nectar the wine of the gods, Vulcanus\nprepared supper, the howers decked up the house with roses and other\nsweet smells, 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\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\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\na certaine 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 haste\nand their cruell stripes, I fell downe upon a stone by the way side,\nthen they beate me pittifully in lifting me up, and hurt my right thigh\nand my left hoofe, and one of them said, What shall we do with this lame\nIll favoured Asse, that is not worth the meate he eats? And other said,\nSince the time that we had him first he never did any good, and I thinke\nhe came unto our house with evill lucke, for we have had great wounds\nsince, and losse of our valiant captaines, and other said, As soone as\nhe hath brought home his burthen, I will surely throw him out upon the\nmountaine to be a pray for wild beasts: While these gentlemen reasoned\ntogether of my death, we fortuned to come home, for the feare that I was\nin, caused my feet to turne into wings: after that we were discharged\nof our burthens, they went to their fellowes that were wounded, and\ntold them of our great tardity and slownesse by the way, neither was I\nbrought into small anguish, when I perceived my death prepared before\nmy face: Why standest thou still Lucius? Why dost thou not looke for\nthy death? Knowst thou not that the theeves have ordained to slay thee?\nseest thou not these sharpe and pointed flints which shall bruise and\nteare thee in peeces, if by adventure thou happen upon them? Thy gentle\nMagitian hath not onely given thee the shape and travell of an Asse, but\nalso a skinne so soft and tender as it were a swallow: why dost thou not\ntake courage and runne away to save thy selfe? Art thou afraid of the\nold woman more then halfe dead, whom with a stripe of thy heele thou\nmaist easily dispatch? But whither shall I fly? What lodging shall I\nseek? See my Assy cogitation. Who is he that passeth by the way and\nwill not take me up? While I devised these things, I brake the halter\nwherewith I was tyed and ran away with all my force, howbeit I could not\nescape the kitish eyes of the old woman, for shee ran after me, and with\nmore audacity then becommeth her kind age, caught me by the halter and\nthought to pull me home: but I not forgetting the cruell purpose of the\ntheeves, was mooved with small pity, for I kicked her with my hinder\nheeles to the ground and had welnigh slaine her, who (although shee was\nthrowne and hurled downe) yet shee held still the halter, and would not\nlet me goe; then shee cryed with a loud voyce and called for succour,\nbut she little prevayled, because there was no person that heard her,\nsave onely the captive gentlewoman, who hearing the voice of the old\nwoman, came out to see what the matter was, and perceiving her hanging\nat the halter, tooke a good courage and wrested it out of her hand, and\n(entreating me with gentle words) got upon my backe. Then I began\nto runne, and shee gently kicked mee forward, whereof I was nothing\ndispleased, for I had as great a desire to escape as shee: insomuch\nthat I seemed to scowre away like a horse. And when the Gentlewoman\ndid speake, I would answere her with my neighing, and oftentimes (under\ncolour to rub my backe) I would sweetly kisse her tender feet. Then shee\nfetching a sigh from the bottome of her heart, lifted up her eyes to the\nheavens, saying: O soveraigne Gods, deliver mee if it be your pleasure,\nfrom these present dangers: and thou cruell fortune cease thy wrath, let\nthe sorrow suffice thee which I have already sustained. And thou little\nAsse, that art the occasion of my safety and liberty, if thou canst\nonce render me safe and sound to my parents, and to him that so greatly\ndesireth to have me to his wife, thou shalt see what thankes I will\ngive: with what honour I will reward thee, and how I will use thee.\nFirst, I will bravely dresse the haires of thy forehead, and then will\nI finely combe thy maine, I will tye up thy rugged tayle trimly, I will\ndecke thee round about with golden trappes, in such sort that thou shalt\nglitter like the starres of the skie, I will bring thee daily in my\napron the kirnels of nuts, and will pamper thee up with delicates; I\nwill set store by thee, as by one that is the preserver of my life:\nFinally, thou shalt lack no manner of thing. Moreover amongst thy\nglorious fare, thy great ease, and the blisse of thy life, thou shalt\nnot be destitute of dignity, for thou shalt be chronicled perpetually in\nmemory of my present fortune, and the providence divine. All the whole\nhistory shall be painted upon the wall of our house, thou shalt he\nrenowned throughout all the world. And it shall be registred in the\nbookes of Doctours, that an Asse saved the life of a young maiden that\nwas captive 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 the\nMoon: and after they had known us, one of them gan say, Whither goe you\nso hastely? Be you not afraid of spirits? And you (you harlot) doe you\nnot goe to see your parents? Come on, we will beare you company? And\ntherewithall they tooke me by the hatter, and drave me backe againe,\nbeating me cruelly with a great staffe (that they had) full of knobs:\nthen I returning againe to my ready destruction, and remembering the\ngriefe of my hoofe, began to shake my head, and to waxe lame, but he\nthat led me by the halter said, What, dost thou stumble? Canst thou not\ngoe? These rotten feet of thine ran well enough, but they cannot walke:\nthou couldest mince it finely even now with the gentlewoman, that thou\nseemedst to passe the horse Pegasus in swiftnesse. In saying of these\nwords they beat mee againe, that they broke a great staffe upon mee. And\nwhen we were come almost home, we saw the old woman hanging upon a bow\nof a Cipresse tree; then one of them cut downe the bowe whereon shee\nhanged, and cast her into the bottome of a great ditch: after this\nthey bound the maiden and fell greedily to their victuals, which the\nmiserable old woman had prepared for them. At which time they began to\ndevise with themselves of our death, and how they might be revenged;\ndivers was the opinions of this divers number: the first said, that hee\nthought best the Mayd should be burned alive: the second said she should\nbe throwne out to wild beasts: the third said, she should be hanged upon\na gibbet: the fourth said she should be flead alive: thus was the death\nof the poore Maiden scanned betweene them foure. But one of the theeves\nafter every man had declared his judgement, did speake in this manner:\nit is not convenient unto the oath of our company, to suffer you to waxe\nmore cruell then the quality of the offence doth merit, for I would that\nshee should not be hanged nor burned, nor throwne to beasts, nor dye any\nsodaine death, but by my council I would have her punished according to\nher desert. You know well what you have determined already of this dull\nAsse, that eateth more then he is worth, that faineth lamenesse, and\nthat was the cause of the flying away of the Maid: my mind is that he\nshall be slaine to morrow, and when all the guts and entrailes of his\nbody is taken out, let the Maide be sowne into his belly, then let us\nlay them upon a great stone against the broiling heate of the Sunne, so\nthey shall both sustaine all the punishments which you have ordained:\nfor first the Asse shall be slaine as you have determined, and she shall\nhave her members torne and gnawn with wild beasts, when as she is bitten\nand rent with wormes, shee shall endure the paine of the fire, when as\nthe broyling 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 of\nall, shee shall finde no meane to ridde her selfe from her paines, for\nher hand shalt be sowen up within the skinne of the Asse: This being\nsaid, all the Theeves consented, and when I (poore Asse) heard and\nunderstood all their device, I did nothing else but lament and bewayle\nmy dead carkasse, which should be handled in such sort on the next\nmorrow.\n\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 all\nthe fault was laid to one Apuleius his charge.\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 the\nfirst entry into the Cave (after hee had breathed himselfe, and was able\nto speake) told these tydings unto his companions in this sort. Sirs,\nas touching the house of Milo of Hippata, which we forcibly entred and\nransackt the last day, we may put away all feare and doubt nothing at\nall. For after that ye by force of armes, had spoyled and taken away all\nthings in the house, and returned hither into our Cave; I (thrusting my\nselfe amongst the presse of the people, and shewing my selfe as though\nI were sad and sorrowful for the mischance) consulted with them for the\nboulting out of the matter, and devising what meanes might be wrought\nfor the apprehension of the theeves, to the intent I might learne and\nsee all that was done to make relation thereof unto you as you willed\nme, insomuch that the whole fact at length by manifest and evident\nproofes as also by the common opinion and judgement of the people, was\nlaid to one Lucius Apuleius charge as manifest author of this common\nrobbery, who a few dayse before by false and forged letters and colored\nhonesty, fell so farre in favour with this Milo, that he entertained him\ninto his house, and received him as a chiefe of his familiar friends,\nwhich Lucius after that he had sojourned there a good space, and won the\nheart of Miloes Maid, by fained love, did thoroughly learne the waies\nand doores of all the house, and curiously viewed the cofers and chests,\nwherein was laid the whole substance of Milo: neither was there small\ncause given to judge him culpable, since as the very same night that\nthis robbery was done he fled away, and could not be found in no place:\nand to the intent hee might cleane escape, and better prevent such as\nmade hew and crie after him, he tooke his white horse and galloped away,\nand after this, his servant was found in the house, who (accused as\naccessary to the fellony and escape of his Master) was committed to\nthe common gaole, and the next day following was cruelly scourged and\ntormented till hee was welnigh dead, to the intent hee should confesse\nthe matter, but when they could wreast or learne no such thing of him,\nyet sent they many persons after, towardes Lucius Countrey to enquire\nhim out, and so to take him prisoner. As he declared these things, I did\ngreatly lament with my selfe, to thinke of mine old and pristine estate,\nand what felicity 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 alwaies\nbestoweth her riches upon evil persons, and fooles, and chooseth or\nfavoureth no mortall person by judgement, but is alwaies conversent,\nespecially with much as if she could see, she should most shunne, and\nforsake, yea and that which is more worse, she sheweth such evill or\ncontrary opinions in men, that the wicked doe glory with the name of\ngood, and contrary the good and innocent be detracted and slandred as\nevill. Furthermore I, who by her great cruelty, was turned into a foure\nfooted Asse, in most vile and abject manner: yea, and whose estate\nseemed worthily to be lamented and pittied of the most hard and stonie\nhearts, was accused of theft and robbing of my deare host Milo, which\nvillany might rather be called parricide then theft, yet might not I\ndefend mine owne cause or denie the fact any way, by reason I could not\nspeake; howbeit least my conscience should seeme to accuse me by reason\nof silence, and againe being enforced by impatience I endevored to\nspeake, and faine would have said, Never did I that fact, and verely the\nfirst word, never, I cried out once or twise, somewhat handsome, but the\nresidue I could in no wise pronounce, but still remaining in one voice,\ncried, Never, never, never, howbeit I settled my hanging lips as round\nas I could to speake the residue: but why should I further complaine of\nthe crueltie of my fortune, since as I was not much ashamed, by reason\nthat my servant and my horse, was likewise accused with me of the\nrobbery.\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 my\npoore gentlewoman that should be closed within me. And the theefe which\na little before had brought the false newes against me, drew out of the\nskirt of his coate, a thousand crowns, which he had rifled from such\nas hee met, and brought it into the common treasury. Then hee carefully\nenquired how the residue of his companions did. To whom it was declared\nthat the most valiant was murdred and slaine in divers manners,\nwhereupon he perswaded them to remit all their affaires a certaine\nseason, and to seeke for other fellowes to be in their places, that by\nthe exercise of new lads, the terror of their martiall band might be\nreduced to the old number, assuring them that such as were unwilling,\nmight be compelled by menaces and threatnings, and such as were willing\nmight be incouraged forward with reward. Further be said, that there\nwere some, which (seeing the profite which they had) would forsake their\nbase and servile estate, and rather bee contented to live like tyrants\namongst them. Moreover he declared, that for his part he had spoken with\na certaine tall man, a valiant companion, but of young age, stout in\nbody, and couragious in fight, whom he had fully perswaded to exercise\nhis idle hands, dull with slothfullnesse, to his greater profit, and\n(while he might) to receive the blisse of better Fortune, and not to\nhold out his sturdy arme to begge for a penny, but rather to take as\nmuch gold and silver as hee would. Then everyone consented, that hee\nthat seemed so worthy to be their companion, should be one of their\ncompany, and that they would search for others to make up the residue\nof the number, whereupon he went out, and by and by (returning againe)\nbrought in a tall young man (as he promised) to whom none of the residue\nmight bee compared, for hee was higher then they by the head, and of\nmore bignesse in body, his beard began to burgen, but hee was poorely\napparelled, insomuch that you might see all his belly naked. As soone\nas he was entred in he said, God speed yee souldiers of Mars and my\nfaithfull companions, I pray you make me one of your band, and I will\nensure you, that you shall have a man of singular courage and lively\naudacity: for I had rather receive stripes upon my backe, then money or\ngold in my hands. And as for death (which every man doth feare) I passe\nnothing at all, yet thinke you not that I am an abject or a begger,\nneither judge you my vertue and prowesse by ragged clothes, for I have\nbeene a Captaine of a great company, and subdued all the countrey of\nMacedonia. I am the renowned theefe Hemes the Thracian, whose name all\ncountreys and nations do so greatly feare: I am the sonne of Theron\nthe noble theefe, nourished with humane bloud, entertained amongst\nthe stoutest; finally I am inheritour and follower of all my fathers\nvertues, yet I lost in a short time all my company and all my riches,\nby one assault, which I made upon a Factor of the Prince, which sometime\nhad beene Captaine of two hundred men, for fortune was cleane against\nme; harken and I will tell you the whole matter. There was a certaine\nman in the court of the Emperour, which had many offices, and in great\nfavour, who at last by the envy of divers persons, was banished away and\ncompelled to forsake the court: his wife Platina, a woman of rare faith\nand singular shamefastnes having borne ten children to her husband,\ndespised all worldly Pompe and delicacy, and determined to follow her\nhusband, and to be partaker of his perils and danger, wherefore shee cut\noff her haire, disguised her selfe like a man, and tooke with her all\nher treasure, passing through the hands of the souldiers, and the naked\nswords without any feare, whereby she endured many miseries, and was\npartaker of much affliction, to save the life of her husband, such\nwas her love which she bare unto him. And when they had escaped many\nperillous dangers, as well by land as by sea, they went together towards\nZacynthe, to continue there according as fortune had appointed. But when\nthey were arived on the sea coast of Actium (where we in our returne\nfrom Macedony were roving about) when night came, they returned into a\nhouse not far distant from their ship, where they lay all night. Then\nwe entred 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 his\nname, and likewise the neighbors that dwelled round about, insomuch that\nby reason of the feare that every one was in, we hardly escaped away,\nbut this most holy woman, faithfull and true to her husband (as the\ntruth 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\nthe Emperours 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 deemed\nthat I was a woman by reason I lacked a beard. Howbeit I left not off\nfor all this, nor did degenerate from the glory of my father, or mine\nown vertue, but freshly comming from the bloody skirmish, and disguised\nlike a woman, I invaded townes and castles alone to get some pray. And\ntherewithall he pulled out two thousand crownes, which he had under his\ncoate, saying: Hold here the dowry which I present unto you, hold eke\nmy person, which you shall alwayes find trusty and faithfull, if you\nwillingly receive me: and I will ensure you that in so doing, within\nshort space I wilt make and turne this stony house of yours into gold.\nThen by and by every one consented to make him their Captaine, and so\nthey gave him better garments, and threw away his old. When they had\nchanged his attire, hee imbraced them one after another, then placed\nthey him in the highest roome of the table, and drunk unto him in token\nof good lucke.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow the death of the Asse, and the Gentlewoman was stayed.\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, he\nturned himselfe wringing his nose, and blamed them saying: I am not so\nmuch a beast, or so rash a fellow to drive you quite from your purpose,\nbut my conscience will not suffer me to conceale any thing that toucheth\nyour profit, since I am as carefull for you, howbeit if my counsell doe\ndisplease you, you may at your liberty proceed in your enterprise.\nI doubt not but all theeves, and such as have a good judgement, will\npreferre their owne lucre and gain above all things in the world,\nand above their vengeance, which purchaseth damage to divers persons.\nTherefore if you put this virgin in the Asses belly, you shall but\nexecute your indignation against her, without all manner of profit; But\nI would advise you to carry the virgin to some towne and to sell her:\nand 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 opinion\ntouching this affaire: but advise you what you intend to do, for you\nmay rule me in this case. In this manner the good theefe pleaded and\ndefended our cause, being a good Patron to the silly virgin, and to\nme poore Asse. But they staied hereupon a good space, with long\ndeliberation, which made my heart (God wot) and spirit greatly to\nquaile. Howbeit in the end they consented to his opinion, and by and\nby the Maiden was unloosed of her bonds, who seeing the young man, and\nhearing the name of brothels and bawdy Merchants, began to wax joyfull,\nand smiled with herself. Then began I to deeme evill of the generation\nof women, when as I saw the Maiden (who was appointed to be married to a\nyoung Gentleman, and who so greatly desired the same) was now delighted\nwith the talke of a wicked brothel house, and other things dishonest. In\nthis sort the consent and manners of women depended in the judgement of\nan Asse.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER\n\nHow all the Theeves were brought asleepe by their new companion.\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 to\ndrinke. Let me have (quoth hee) tenne more with me, and wee will goe to\nthe 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 Ram\nGoat, fat, old, and hairy, which they killed and offered unto Mars. Then\nsupper was prepared sumptuously, and the new companion said unto the\nother, 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 wine.\nSometimes (seeming to fetch somewhat) hee would goe to the Maiden and\ngive her pieces of meate, which he privily tooke away, and would drinke\nunto her, which she willingly tooke in good part. Moreover, hee kissed\nher 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\nand hurt of other. While I did angerly devise with my selfe all these\nthings, I perceived by certaine signes and tokens (not ignorant to\nso wise an Asse) that he was not the notable theefe Hemus, but rather\nLepolemus her husband, for after much communication he beganne to speake\nmore franckly, not fearing at all my presence, and said, Be of good\ncheere my sweete friend Charites, for thou shalt have by and by all\nthese thy enemies captive unto thee. Then hee filled wine to the theeves\nmore and more, and never ceased, till as they were all overcome with\nabundance of meat and drinke, when as hee himselfe abstained and bridled\nhis owne appetite. And truely I did greatly suspect, least hee had\nmingled in their cups some deadly poyson, for incontinently they all\nfell downe asleepe on the ground one after an other, and lay as though\nthey had beene dead.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER\n\nHow the Gentlewoman was carried home by her husband while the theeves\nwere asleepe, and how much Apuleius was made of.\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 to\nsee this virgin in great triumph sitting upon an Asse. Then I (willing\nto shew as much joy as I might, as present occasion served) I set and\npricked up my long eares, ratled my nosethrils, and cryed stoutly, nay\nrather I made the towne to ring againe with my shrilling sound: when\nwee were come to her fathers house, shee was received in a chamber\nhonourably: as for me, Lepolemus (accompanied with a great number of\nCitizens) did presently after drive me backe againe with other horses to\nthe cave of the theeves, where wee found them all asleepe lying on the\nground as wee left them; then they first brought out all the gold, and\nsilver, and other treasure of the house, and laded us withall, which\nwhen they had done, they threw many of the theeves downe into the\nbottome of deepe ditches, and the residue they slew with their swords:\nafter this wee returned home glad and merry of so great vengeance upon\nthem, and the riches which wee carried was commited to the publike\ntreasurie. This done, the Maid was married to Lepolemus, according to\nthe law, whom by so much travell he had valiantly recovered: then my\ngood Mistresse looked about for me, and asking for me commanded the very\nsame day of her marriage, that my manger should be filled with barly,\nand that I should have hay and oats aboundantly, and she would call\nme her little Camell. But how greatly did I curse Fotis, in that shee\ntransformed me into an Asse, and not into a dogge, because I saw the\ndogges had filled their paunches with the reliks and bones of so worthy\na supper. The next day this new wedded woman (my Mistresse) did greatly\ncommend me before her Parents and husband, for the kindnesse which I had\nshewed unto her, and never leaved off untill such time as they promised\nto reward me with great honours. Then they called together all their\nfriends, and thus it was concluded: one said, that I should be closed\nin a stable and never worke, but continually to be fedde and fatted\nwith fine and chosen barly and beanes and good littour, howbeit another\nprevailed, who wishing my liberty, perswaded them that it was better\nfor me to runne in the fields amongst the lascivious horses and mares,\nwhereby I might engender some mules for my Mistresse: then he that had\nin charge to keepe the horse, was called for, and I was delivered unto\nhim with great care, insomuch that I was right pleasant and joyous,\nbecause I hoped that I should carry no more fardels nor burthens,\nmoreover I thought that when I should thus be at liberty, in the spring\ntime of the yeere when the meddows and fields were greene, I should\nfind some roses in some place, whereby I was fully perswaded that if my\nMaster and Mistresse did render to me so many thanks and honours being\nan Asse, they would much more reward me being turned into a man: but\nwhen he (to whom the charge of me was so straightly committed) had\nbrought me a good way distant from the City, I perceived no delicate\nmeates nor no liberty which I should have, but by and by his covetous\nwife and most cursed queane made me a mill Asse, and (beating me with a\ncudgill full of knots) would wring bread for her selfe and her husband\nout of my skinne. Yet was she not contented to weary me and make me a\ndrudge with carriage and grinding of her owne corne, but I was hired of\nher neighbours to beare their sackes likewise, howbeit shee would not\ngive me 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\nbut full 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\nto see 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\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, but\nhe beat me cruelly with a great staffe, insomuch that the marrow of my\nbones did ake for woe, for he would strike me continually on the right\nhip, and still in one place, whereby he tore my skinne and made of my\nwide sore a great hole or trench, or rather a window to looke out at,\nand although it runne downe of blood, yet would he not cease beating\nme in that place: moreover he laded me with such great burthens of wood\nthat you would thinke they had been rather prepared for Elephants then\nfor me, and when he perceived that my wood hanged more on one side then\nanother, (when he should rather take away the heavy sides, and so ease\nme, or else lift them up to make them equall with the other) he laid\ngreat stones upon the weaker side to remedy the matter, yet could be not\nbe contented with this my great misery and immoderate burthens of wood,\nbut when hee came to any river (as there were many by the way) he to\nsave his feete from water, would leape upon my loynes likewise, which\nwas no small loade upon loade. And if by adversity I had fell downe in\nany dirty or myrie place, when he should have pulled me out either with\nropes, or lifted me up by the taile, he would never helpe me, but lay\nme on from top to toe with a mighty staffe, till he had left no haire on\nall my body, no not so much as on mine eares, whereby I was compelled\nby force of blowes to stand up. The same hangman boy did invent another\ntorment for me: he gathered a great many sharp thornes as sharp as\nneedles and bound them together like a fagot, and tyed them at my\ntayle to pricke me, then was I afflicted on every side, for if I had\nindeavoured to runne away, the thornes would have pricked me, if I had\nstood still, the boy would have beaten mee, and yet the boy beate mee to\nmake me runne, whereby I perceived that the hangman did devise nothing\nelse save only to kill me by some manner of meanes, and he would sweare\nand threaten to do me worse harme, and because hee might have some\noccasion to execute his malicious minde, upon a day (after that I had\nendeavoured too much by my patience) I lifted up my heeles and spurned\nhim welfavouredly. Then he invented this vengeance against me, after\nthat he had well laded me with shrubs and rubble, and trussed it round\nupon my backe, hee brought me out into the way: then hee stole a burning\ncoale out of a mans house of the next village, and put it into the\nmiddle of the rubbell; the rubbell and shrubs being very dry, did fall\non a light fire and burned me on every side. I could see no remedy how I\nmight save my selfe, and in such a case it was not best for me to stand\nstill but fortune was favourable towards me, perhaps to reserve me for\nmore dangers, for I espyed a great hole full of raine water that fell\nthe day before, thither I ranne hastily and plunged my selfe therein, in\nsuch sort that I quenched the fire, and was delivered from that\npresent perill, but the vile boy to excuse himselfe declared to all the\nneighbours and shepheards about, that I willingly tumbled in the fire as\nI passed through the village. Then he laughed upon me saying: How long\nshall we nourish and keepe this fiery Asse in vaine?\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER\n\nHow Apuleius was accused of Lechery by the boy.\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 or\nmarryed, or if it be a young child, hee will throw his burthen from his\nbacke, and runneth fiercely upon them. And after that he hath thrown\nthem downe, he will stride over them to commit his buggery and beastly\npleasure, moreover hee will faine as though hee would kisse them, but\nhe will bite their faces cruelly, which thing may worke us great\ndispleasure, or rather to be imputed unto us as a crime: and even now\nwhen he espyed an honest maiden passing by die high way, he by and by\nthrew downe his wood and runne after her: And when he had throwne her\ndown upon the ground, he would have ravished her before the face of all\nthe world, had it not beene that by reason of her crying out, she was\nsuccored and pulled from his heeles, and so delivered. And if it had\nso 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 the\nlabourers supper. Then let us cast dust upon his skinne, and carry it\nhome 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 it\nsharp upon the whetstone to slay me, but another of the shepheards gan\nsay, Verely it is a great offence to kill so faire an Asse, and so (by\naccusation of luxurie and lascivious wantonnesse) to lack so necessarie\nhis labour and service, where otherwise if ye would cut off his stones,\nhe might not onely be deprived of his courage but also become gentle,\nthat we should be delivered from all feare and danger. Moreover he would\nbe thereby more fat and better in flesh. For I know my selfe as\nwell many Asses, as also most fierce horses, that by reason of their\nwantonnesse have beene most mad and terrible, but (when they were gelded\nand cut) they have become gentle and tame, and tractable to all use.\nWherefore I would counsell you to geld him. And if you consent thereto,\nI will by and by, when I go to the next market fetch mine irons and\ntooles for the purpose: And I ensure you after that I have gelded and\ncut off his stones, I will deliver him unto you as tame as a lambe.\nWhen I did perceive that I was delivered from death, and reserved to\nbe gelded, I was greatly sorrie, insomuch that I thought all the hinder\npart of my body and my stones did ake for woe, but I sought about to\nkill my selfe by some manner of meanes, to the end if I should die, I\nwould 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\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 upon\nmy backe, beating me with a staffe (which he bare in his hand) through a\nwide and unknowne lane, whereat I was nothing displeased, but willingly\nwent forward to avoid the cruell paine of gelding, which the shepherds\nhad ordained for me, but as for the stripes I was nothing moved, since\nI was accustomed to be beaten so every day. But evill fortune would not\nsuffer me to continue in so good estate long: For the shepheards looking\nabout for a Cow that they had lost (after they had sought in divers\nplaces) fortuned to come upon us unwares, who when they espied and knew\nme, they would have taken me by the halter, but he that rode upon my\nbacke resisted them saying, O Lord masters, what intend you to do? Will\nyou rob me? Then said the shepheards, What? thinkest thou we handle thee\notherwise then thou deservest, which hast stollen away our Asse? Why\ndost thou not rather tell us where thou hast hidden the boy whom thou\nhast slaine? And therewithall they pulled him downe to the ground,\nbeating him with their fists, and spurning him with their feete. Then he\nanswered unto them saying, titathat he saw no manner of boy, but onely\nfound the Asse loose and straying abroad, which he tooke up to the\nintent to have some reward for the finding of him and to restore him\nagaine to his Master. And I would to God (quoth he) that this Asse\n(which verely was never seene) could speake as a man to give witnesse of\nmine innocency: Then would you be ashamed of the injury which you have\ndone to me. Thus (reasoning for Himselfe) he nothing prevailed, for they\ntied the halter about my necke, and (maugre his face) pulled me quite\naway, and lead me backe againe through the woods of the hill to the\nplace where the boy accustomed to resort. And after they could find him\nin no place, at length they found his body rent and torne in peeces, and\nhis members dispersed in sundry places, which I well knew was done\nby the cruell Beare: and verely I would have told it if I might have\nspoken, but (which I could onely do) I greatly rejoiced at his death,\nalthough it came too late. Then they gathered together the peeces of his\nbody and buried them. By and by they laid the fault to my new Master,\nthat tooke me up by the way, and (bringing him home fast bound to their\nhouses) purposed on the next morrow to accuse him of murther, and to\nlead him before the Justices to have judgement of death.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-FIRST CHAPTER\n\nHow Apuleius was cruelly beaten by the Mother of the boy that was\nslaine.\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 also\nhis head. So was it brought to passe, that my death was delayed till the\nnext morrow, but what thanks did I give to that good boy, who (being so\nslaine) was the cause of my pardon for one short day. Howbeit I had\nno time then to rest my selfe, for the Mother of the boy, weeping and\nlamenting for his death, attired in mourning vesture, tare her haire\nand beat her breast, and came presently into the stable, saying, Is it\nreason that this carelesse beast should do nothing all day but hold\nhis head in the manger, filling and belling his guts with meat without\ncompassion of my great miserie, or remembrance of the pittiful death of\nhis slaine Master: and contemning my age and infirmity, thinketh that I\nam unable to revenge his mischiefs, moreover he would perswade me, that\nhe were not culpable. Indeed, it is a convenient thing to looke and\nplead for safety, when as the conscience doeth confesse the offence, as\ntheeves and malefactors accustome to do. But O good Lord, thou cursed\nbeast, if thou couldest utter the contents of thine owne mind, whom\n(though it were the veriest foole in all the world) mightest thou\nperswade that this murther was voide or without thy fault, when as it\nlay in thy power, either to keepe off the theeves with thy heeles, or\nelse to bite and teare them with thy teeth? Couldest not thou (that so\noften in his life time diddest spurne and kicke him) defend him now at\nthe point of death by the like meane? Yet at least, thou shouldest have\ntaken him upon thy backe, and so brought him from the cruell hands of\nthe theeves: where contrary thou runnest away alone, forsaking thy good\nMaster, thy pastor and conductor. Knowest thou not, that such as denie\ntheir wholsome help and aid to them which lie in danger of death, ought\nto be punished, because they have offended against good manners, and\nthe law naturall? But I promise thee, thou shalt not long rejoyce at my\nharmes, thou shalt feele the smart of thy homicide and offence, I will\nsee what I can doe. And therewithall she unclosed her apron, and bound\nall my feete together, to the end I might not help my selfe, then she\ntooke a great barre, which accustomed to bar the stable doore, and never\nceased beating me till she was so weary that the bar fell out of her\nhands, whereupon she (complaining of the soone faintnesse of her armes)\nran to her fire and brought a firebrand and thrust it under my taile,\nburning me continually, till such time as (having but one remedy) I\narayed her face and eies with my durty dunge, whereby (what with the\nstinke thereof, and what with the filthinesse that fell in her eies) she\nwas welnigh blinded: so I enforced the queane to leave off, otherwise I\nhad died as Meleager did by the sticke, which his mad mother Althea cast\ninto the fire.\n\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\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\na stoole, 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 learne\nand know all the whole matter, I purpose to tell you the circumstances\nof every point, whereby such as are more learned then I (to whom fortune\nhath ministred more copious stile) may painte it out in paper in forme\nof an History. There was a young Gentleman dwelling in the next City,\nborne of good parentage, valiant in prowesse, and riche in substance,\nbut very much given and adicted to whorehunting, and continuall\nrevelling. Whereby he fell in company with Theeves, and had his hand\nready to the effusion of humane blood; his name was Thrasillus. The\nmatter was this according to the report of every man. Hee demanded\nCharites in marriage, who although he were a man more comely then the\nresidue that wooed her, and also had riches abundantly, yet because he\nwas of evill fame, and a man of wicked manners and conversation, he\nhad the repulse and was put off by Charites, and so she married with\nLepolemus. Howbeit this young man secretly loved her, yet moved somewhat\nat her refusall, hee busily searched some meanes to worke his damnable\nintent. And (having found occasion and opportunity to accomplish his\npurpose, which he had long time concealed) brought to passe, that the\nsame day that Charites was delivered by the subtill meane and valiant\naudacity of her husband, from the puissance of the Theeves, he mingled\nhimselfe among the assembly, faining that he was glad of the new\nmarriage, and comming home againe of the maiden, Whereby (by reason that\nhe came of so noble parents) he was received and entertained into the\nhouse as one of their chiefe and principall friends: Howbeit under\ncloake of a faithfull welwiller, hee dissimuled his mischievous mind\nand intent: in continuance of time by much familiarity and often\nconversation and banketting together, he fell more and more in favour,\nlike as we see it fortuneth to Lovers, who first doe little delight\nthemselves in love: till as by continuall acquaintance they kisse and\nimbrace each other. Thrasillus perceiving that it was a hard matter to\nbreake his minde secretly to Charites, whereby he was wholly barred\nfrom the accomplishment of his luxurious appetite, and on the other side\nperceiving that the love of her and her husband was so strongly lincked\ntogether, that the bond betweene them might in no wise be dissevered,\nmoreover, it was a thing impossible to ravish her, although he had\nconsented thereto, yet was hee still provoked forward by vehement lust,\nwhen as hee saw himselfe unable to bring his purpose to passe. Howbeit\nat length the thing which seemed so hard and difficill, thorough hope of\nhis fortified love, did now appeare easie and facill: but marke I pray\nyou diligently to what end the furious force of his inordinate desire\ncame. On a day Lepolemus went to the chase with Thrasillus, to hunt for\nGoates, for his wife Charites desired him earnestly to meddle with no\nother beasts, which were of more fierce and wilde nature. When they were\ncome within the chase to a great thicket fortressed about with bryers\nand thornes, they compassed round with their Dogs and beset every place\nwith nets: by and by warning was given to let loose. The Dogs rushed in\nwith such a cry, that all the Forrest rang againe with the noyse, but\nbehold there leaped out no Goat, nor Deere, nor gentle Hinde, but an\nhorrible and dangerous wild Boare, hard and thicke skinned, bristeled\nterribly with thornes, foming at the mouth, grinding his teeth, and\nlooking direfully with fiery eyes. The Dogs that first set upon him, he\ntare and rent with his tuskes, and then he ranne quite through the nets,\nand escaped away. When wee saw the fury of this beast, wee were greatly\nstriken with feare, and because wee never accustomed to chase such\ndreadfull Boares, and further because we were unarmed and without\nweapons, we got and hid our selves under bushes and trees. Then\nThrasillus having found opportunity to worke his treason, said to\nLepolemus: What stand we here amazed? Why show we our selves like\ndastards? Why leese we so worthy a prey with our feminine hearts? Let us\nmount upon our Horses, and pursue him incontinently: take you a hunting\nstaffe, and I will take a chasing speare. By and by they leaped upon\ntheir Horses, and followed the beast. But hee returning against them\nwith furious force, pryed with his eyes, on whom hee might first assayle\nwith his tuskes: Lepolemus strooke the beast first on the backe with his\nhunting staffe. Thrasillus faining to ayde and assist him, came behind,\nand cut off the hinder legges of Lepolemus Horse, in such sort that hee\nfell downe to the ground with his master: and sodainely the Boare came\nupon Lepolemus and furiously tare and rent him with his teeth. Howbeit,\nThrasillus was not sufficed to see him thus wounded, but when he desired\nhis friendly help, he thrust Lepolemus through the right thigh with his\nspeare, the more because he thought the wound of the speare would be\ntaken for a wound of the Boars teeth, then he killed the beast likewise,\nAnd when he was thus miserably slaine, every one of us came out of our\nholes, and went towards our slaine master. But although that Thrasillus\nwas joyfull 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 occasion\nhad cause to lament for our master, laying all the blame of this\nhomicide unto the Boare. Incontinently after the sorrowfull newes of the\ndeath of Lepolemus, came to the eares of all the family, but especially\nto Charites, who after she had heard such pitifull tydings, as a mad\nand raging woman, ran up and down the streets, crying and howling\nlamentably. All the Citizens gathered together, and such as they met\nbare them company running towards the chasse. When they came to the\nslaine body of Lepolemus, Charites threw her selfe upon him weeping and\nlamenting grievously for his death, in such sort, that she would have\npresently ended her life, upon the corps of her slaine husband, whom\nshee so entirely loved, had it not beene that her parents and friends\ndid comfort her, and pulled her away. The body was taken up, and in\nfunerall pompe brought to the City and buried. In the meane season,\nThrasillus fained much sorrow for the death of Lepolemus, but in his\nheart he was well pleased and joyfull. And to counterfeit the matter, he\nwould come to Charites and say: O what a losse have I had of my friend,\nmy fellow, my companion Lepolemus? O Charites comfort your selfe,\npacifie your dolour, refraine your weeping, beat not your breasts: and\nwith such other and like words and divers examples he endeavoured to\nsuppresse her great sorrow, but he spake not this for any other intent\nbut to win the heart of the woman, and to nourish his odious love with\nfilthy delight. Howbeit Charites after the buriall of her husband sought\nthe meanes to follow him, and (not sustaining the sorrows wherein she\nwas Wrapped) got her secretly into a chamber and purposed to finish\nher life there with dolour and tribulation. But Thrasillus was very\nimportunate, and at length brought to passe, that at the intercession of\nthe Parents and friends of Charites, she somewhat refreshed her fallen\nmembers with refection of meate and baine. Howbeit, she did it more at\nthe commandement of her Parents, then for any thing else: for she could\nin no wise be merry, nor receive any comfort, but tormented her selfe\nday and night before the Image of her husband which she made like unto\nBacchus, and rendred unto him divine honours and services. In the meane\nseason Thrasillus not able to refraine any longer, before Charites had\nasswaged her dolor, before her troubled mind had pacified her fury, even\nin the middle of all her griefes, while she tare her haire and rent her\ngarments, demanded her in marriage, and so without shame, he detected\nthe secrets and unspeakeable deceipts of his heart. But Charites\ndetested and abhorred his demand, and as she had beene stroken with some\nclap of thunder, with some storme, or with the lightning of Jupiter, she\npresently fell downe to the ground all amazed. Howbeit when her spirits\nwere revived and that she returned to her selfe, perceiving that\nThrasillus was so importunate, she demanded respite to deliberate and to\ntake advise on the matter. In the meane season, the shape of Lepolemus\nthat was slaine so miserably, appeared to Charites saying, O my sweet\nwife (which no other person can say but I) I pray thee for the love\nwhich is betweene us two, if there he any memorie of me in thy heart, or\nremembrance of my pittifull death, marry with any other person, so that\nthou marry not with the traitour Thrasillus, have no conference with\nhim, eate not with him, lie not with him, avoid the bloudie hand of\nmine enemie, couple not thy selfe with a paricide, for those wounds (the\nbloud whereof thy teares did wash away) were not the wounds of the teeth\nof the 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 manner\nof person, but dissimuling that she knew no part of the mischiefe,\ndevised with her selfe how she might be revenged on the traitor, and\nfinish her owne life to end and knit up all sorrow. Incontinently came\nThrasillus, the detestable demander of sodaine pleasure, and wearied the\nclosed eares of Charites with talke of marriage, but she gently refused\nhis communication, and coloring the matter, with passing craft in the\nmiddest of his earnest desires gan say, Thrasillus you shall understand\nthat yet the face of your brother and my husband, is alwayes before mine\neies, I smell yet the Cinamon sent of his pretious body, I yet feele\nLepolemus alive in my heart: wherefore you shall do well if you grant to\nme miserable woman, necessarie time to bewaile his death, that after the\nresidue of a few months, the whole yeare may be expired, which thing\ntoucheth as well my shame as your wholsome profit, lest peradventure by\nyour speed and quicke marriage we should justly raise and provoke the\nspirit of my husband to worke our destruction. Howbeit, Thrasillus\nwas not contented with this promise, but more and more came upon her:\nInsomuch, that she was enforced to speake to him in this manner: My\nfriend Thrasillus, if thou be so contented untill the whole yeare be\ncompleate and finished, behold here is my bodie, take thy pleasure, but\nin such sort and so secret that no servant of the house may perceive\nit. Then Thrasillus trusting to the false promises of the woman, and\npreferring his inordinate pleasure above all things in the world, was\njoyfull in his heart and looked for night, when as he might have his\npurpose. But come thou about midnight (quoth Charites) disguised without\ncompanie, and doe but hisse at my chamber doore, and my nourse shall\nattend and let thee in. This counsell pleased Thrasillus marveilously,\nwho (suspecting no harme) did alwaies looke for night, and the houre\nassigned by Charites. The time was scarce come, when as (according\nto her commandement) he disguised himselfe, and went straight to the\nchamber, where he found the nourse attending for him, who (by the\nappointment of her Mistresse) fed him with flattering talke, and gave\nhim mingled and doled drinke in a cup, excusing the absence of her\nMistresse Charites, by reason that she attended on her Father being\nsick, untill such time, that with sweet talke and operation of the\nwine, he fell in a sound sleepe: Now when he lay prostrate on the ground\nreadie to all adventure, Charites (being called for) came in, and with\nmanly courage and bold force stood over the sleeping murderer, saying:\nBehold the faithfull companion of my husband, behold this valiant\nhunter; behold me deere spouse, this is the hand which shed my bloud,\nthis is the heart 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, then\nthat whereof thou dreamest: Thou shalt thinke the death of thine enemie\nmore sweet then thy life: Thou shalt see no light, thou shalt lacke the\naide of a leader, thou shalt not have me as thou hopest, thou shalt have\nno delight of my marriage, thou shalt not die, and yet living thou shalt\nhave no joy, but wander betweene light and darknesse as an unsure Image:\nthou shalt seeke for the hand that pricked out thine eies, yet shalt\nthou not know of whom thou shouldest complaine: I will make sacrifice\nwith the bloud of thine eies upon the grave of my husband. But what\ngainest thou through my delay? Perhaps thou dreamest that thou embracest\nme in thy armes: leave off the darknesse of sleepe and awake thou to\nreceive a penall deprivation of thy sight, lift up thy face, regard thy\nvengeance and evill fortune, reckon thy miserie; so pleaseth thine eies\nto a chast woman, that thou shall have blindnesse to thy companion, and\nan everlasting remorse of thy miserable conscience. When she had spoken\nthese words, she tooke a great needle from her head and pricked out both\nhis eies: which done, she by and by caught the naked sword which her\nhusband Lepolemus accustomed to weare, and ranne throughout all the\nCitie like a mad woman towards the Sepulchre of her husband. Then all\nwe of the house, with all the Citizens, ranne incontinently after her\nto take the sword out of her hand, but she clasping about the tombe of\nLepolemus, kept us off with her naked weapon, and when she perceived\nthat every one of us wept and lamented, she spake in this sort: I pray\nyou my friends weepe not, nor lament for me, for I have revenged the\ndeath of my husband, I have punished deservedly the wicked breaker\nof our marriage; now is it time to seeke out my sweet Lepolemus, and\npresently with this sword to finish my life. And therewithall after she\nhad made relation of the whole matter, declared the vision which she\nsaw and told by what meane she deceived Thrasillus, thrusting her sword\nunder her right brest, and wallowing in her owne bloud, at length with\nmanly courage yeelded up the Ghost. Then immediately the friends\nof miserable Charites did bury her body within the same Sepulchre.\nThrasillus hearing all the matter, and knowing not by what meanes he\nmight end his life, for he thought his sword was not sufficient to\nrevenge so great a crime, at length went to the same Sepulchre, and\ncryed with a lowd voice, saying: o yee dead spirites whom I have so\nhighly and greatly offended, vouchsafe to receive me, behold I make\nSacrifice unto you with my whole body: which said, hee closed the\nSepulchre, purposing to famish himselfe, and to finish his life there\nin sorrow. These things the young man with pitifull sighes and teares,\ndeclared unto the Cowheards and Shepheards, which caused them all to\nweepe: but they fearing to become subject unto new masters, prepared\nthemselves 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\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\na great mountaine full of trees, and were come againe into the open\nfields, behold we approached nigh to a faire and rich Castell, where\nit was 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\nin the Country about, so fierce and cruell that they put every man\nin feare, in such sort that they would invade and set upon such\nwhich passed 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.\nBut (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 trudge\nin our way apace. Then I fearing the great danger which might happen,\nran amongst the middle of the other Horses, to the end I might defend\nand save my poore buttocks from the Wolves, whereat every man much\nmarvelled to see, that I scowred away swifter then the other Horses. But\nsuch was my agility, not to get me any prayse, but rather for feare: at\nthat time I remembered with my selfe, that the valiant Horse Pegasus did\nfly in the ayre more to avoyd the danger of dreadful Chimera, then for\nany thing else. The shepheards which drave us before them were well\narmed like warriours: one had a speare, another had a sheepehooke, some\nhad darts, some clubbes, some gathered up great stones, some held up\ntheir sharp Javelings, and some feared away the Woolves with light\nfirebrands. Finally wee lacked nothing to make up an Army, but onely\nDrummes and Trumpets. But when we had passed these dangers, not without\nsmall feare, wee fortuned to fall into worse, for the Woolves came not\nupon us, either because of the great multitude of our company, or else\nbecause [of] our firebrands, or peradventure they were gone to some\nother place, for wee could see none, but the Inhabitants of the next\nvillages (supposing that wee were Theeves by reason of the great\nmultitude) for the defence of their owne substance, and for the feare\nthat they were in, set great and mighty masties upon us, which they had\nkept and nourished for the safety of their houses, who compassing us\nround about leaped on every side, tearing us with their teeth, in\nsuch sort that they pulled many of us to the ground: verily it was a\npittifull sight to see so many Dogs, some following such as flyed, some\ninvading such as stood still, some tearing those which lay prostrate,\nbut generally there were none which escaped cleare: Behold upon this\nanother danger ensued, the Inhabitants of the Towne stood in their\ngarrets and windowes, throwing great stones upon our heads, that wee\ncould not tell whether it were best for us to avoyd the gaping mouthes\nof the Dogges at hand or the perill of the stones afarre, amongst whome\nthere was one that hurled a great flint upon a woman, which sate upon my\nbacke, who cryed out pitiously, desiring her husband to helpe her. Then\nhe (comming to succour and ayd his wife) beganne to speake in this\nsort: Alas masters, what mean you to trouble us poore labouring men so\ncruelly? What meane you to revenge your selves upon us, that doe you no\nharme? What thinke you to gaine by us? You dwell not in Caves or Dennes:\nyou are no people barbarous, that you should delight in effusion of\nhumane blood. At these words the tempest of stones did cease, and the\nstorme of the Dogges vanished away. Then one (standing on the toppe of\na great Cypresse tree) spake unto us saying: Thinke you not masters that\nwe doe this to the intent to rifle or take away any of your goods, but\nfor the safeguard of our selves and family: now a Gods name you may\ndepart away. So we went forward, some wounded with stones, some bitten\nwith Dogs, but generally there was none 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\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 running\nRiver: some stopped their wounds with Spunges and cloutes, in this\nmanner every one provided for his owne safety. In the meane season wee\nperceived an old man, who seemed to be a Shepheard, by reason of the\nGoates 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 he\nmade answere saying: Doe you looke for any meate or drinke, or any other\nrefection 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\nin: Howbeit 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 a\nstaffe in his hand very weary with travell, who approaching nigh to our\ncompany, began to weepe and complaine saying: Alas masters I pray you\nsuccour me miserable caitife, and restore my nephew to me againe, that\nby following a sparrow that flew before him, is fallen into a ditch\nhereby, and verily I thinke he is in danger of death. As for me, I am\nnot able to helpe him out by reason of mine old age, but you that are so\nvaliant and lusty may easily helpe me herein, and deliver me my boy,\nmy heire and guide of my life. These words made us all to pity him. And\nthen the youngest and stoutest of our company, who alone escaped best\nthe late skirmish of Dogges and stones, rose up and demanded in what\nditch the boy was fallen: Mary (quod he) yonder, and pointed with his\nfinger, and brought him to a great thicket of bushes and thornes where\nthey both entred in. In the meane season, after we cured our wounds, we\ntooke up our packs, purposing to depart away. And because we would not\ngoe away without the young man our fellow: The shepheards whistled and\ncalled for him, but when he gave no answer, they sent one out of their\ncompany to seeke him out, who after a while returned againe with a pale\nface and sorrowfull newes, saying that he saw a terrible Dragon eating\nand devouring their companion: and as for the old man, hee could see him\nin no place. When they heard this, (remembring likewise the words of the\nfirst old man that shaked his head, and drave away his sheep) they\nran away beating us before them, to fly from this desart and pestilent\nCountry.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRTY-FIFTH CHAPTER\n\nHow a woman killed her selfe and her child, because her husband haunted\nharlots.\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 was\nMaster of the lodging where we lay: this servant had married a Maiden\nof the same house, howbeit he was greatly in love with a harlot of the\ntowne, and accustomed to resort unto her, wherewith his wife was so\nhighly displeased and became so jealous, that she gathered together all\nher husbands substance, with his tales and books of account, and threw\nthem into a light fire: she was not contented with this, but she tooke\na cord and bound her child which she had by her husband, about her\nmiddle and cast her selfe headlong into a deepe pit. The Master taking\nin evill part the death of these twaine, tooke his servant which was the\ncause of this murther by his luxurie, and first after that he had put\noff all his apparell, he annointed his body with honey, and then bound\nhim sure to a fig-tree, where in a rotten stocke a great number of\nPismares had builded their neasts, the Pismares after they had felt the\nsweetnesse of the honey came upon his body, and by little and little (in\ncontinuance of time) devoured all his flesh, in such sort, that there\nremained on the tree but his bare bones: this was declared unto us by\nthe inhabitants of the village there, who greatly sorrowed for the death\nof this servant: then we avoiding likewise from this dreadfull lodging\nincontinently 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\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 it\nwas a countrey very plentifull of corne and other victuals, where when\nwe had remained the space of three dayes, and that I poore Asse and\nthe other horses were fed and kept in the stable to the intent we might\nseeme more saleable, we were brought out at length to the market, and\nby and by a crier sounded with his horne to notifie that we were to be\nsold: all my companion horses were bought up by Gentlemen, but as for\nme I stood still forsaken of all men. And when many buiers came by and\nlooked 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 as\nbeing a fierce and cruell beast: the crier when he had gotten a hoarse\nvoice with crying, and saw that no man would buy me, began to mocke\nme saying, To what end stand we here with this wilde Asse, this feeble\nbeast, this slow jade with worne hooves, good for nothing but to make\nsives of his skin? Why do we not give him to some body for he earneth\nnot his hay? In this manner he made all the standers by to laugh\nexceedingly, but my evill fortune which was ever so cruell against me,\nwhom I by travell of so many countreys could in no wise escape, did more\nand more envie me, with invention of new meanes to afflict my poore body\nin giving me a new Master as spitefull as the rest. There was an old man\nsomewhat bald, with long and gray haire, one of the number of those that\ngo from door to door, throughout all the villages, bearing the Image of\nthe goddesse Syria, and playing with Cimbals to get the almes of good\nand charitable folks, this old man came hastely towards the cryer, and\ndemanded where I was bred: Marry (quoth he) in Cappadocia: Then he\nenquired what age I was of, the cryer answered as a Mathematician, which\ndisposed to me my Planets, that I was five yeares old, and willed the\nold man to looke in my mouth: For I would not willingly (quoth he) incur\nthe penalty of the law Cornelia, in selling a free Citizen for a servile\nslave, buy a Gods name this faire beast to ride home on, and about in\nthe countrey: But this curious buier did never stint to question of my\nqualities, and at length he demanded whether I were gentle or no: Gentle\n(quoth the crier) as gentle as a Lambe, tractable to all use, he will\nnever bite, he will never kicke, but you would rather thinke that under\nthe shape of an Asse there were some well advised man, which verely you\nmay easily 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, but\nhe perceiving his taunts and jests, waxed very angry saying, Away doting\ncryer, I pray the omnipotent and omniparent goddesse Syria, Saint Sabod,\nBellona, with her mother Idea, and Venus, with Adonis, to strike out\nboth thine eies, that with taunting mocks hast scoffed me in this sort:\nDost thou thinke that I will put a goddesse upon the backe of any fierce\nbeast, whereby her divine Image should be throwne downe on the ground,\nand so I poore miser should be compelled (tearing my haire) to looke\nfor some Physition to helpe her? When I heard him speake thus, I thought\nwith my selfe sodainly to leap upon him like a mad Asse, to the intent\nhe should not buy me, but incontinently there came another Marchant that\nprevented my thought, and offered 17 Pence for me, then my Master was\nglad and received the money, and delivered me to my new Master who was\ncalled Phelibus, and he caried his new servant home, and before he came\nto his house, he called out his daughters saying, Behold my daughters,\nwhat a gentle servant I have bought for you: then they were marvailous\nglad, and comming out pratling and shouting for joy, thought verely that\nhe had brought home a fit and conveniable servant for their purpose,\nbut when they perceived that it was an Asse, they began to provoke him,\nsaying that he had not bought a servant for his Maidens, but rather an\nAsse for himselfe. Howbeit (quoth they) keepe him not wholly for your\nowne riding, but let us likewise have him at commandement. Therewithall\nthey led me into the stable, and tied me to the manger: there was\na certaine yong man with a mighty body, wel skilled in playing on\ninstruments before the gods to get money, who (as soone as he had espied\nme) entertained me verie well, for he filled my racke and maunger full\nof meat, 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\nlong live 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\nupon my 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 in\nspirite, or replenished with divine power. And after that, he somewhat\nreturning to himselfe, invented and forged a great lye, saying, that\nhe had displeased the divine majesty of the goddesse, by doing of some\nthing which was not convenable to the order of their holy religion,\nwherefore he would doe vengeance of himselfe: and therewithall he\ntooke a whip, and scourged his owne body, that the bloud issued out\naboundantly, which thing caused me greatly to feare, to see such wounds\nand effusion of bloud, least the same goddesse desiring so much the\nbloud of men, should likewise desire the bloud of an Asse. After they\nwere wearie with hurling and beating themselves, they sate downe, and\nbehold, the inhabitants came in, and offered gold, silver, vessels of\nwine, milke, cheese, flower, wheate and other things: amongst whom there\nwas one, that brought barly to the Asse that carried the goddesse, but\nthe greedie whoresons thrust all into their sacke, which they brought\nfor the purpose and put it upon my backe, to the end I might serve for\ntwo purposes, that is to say, for the barne by reason of my corne, and\nfor the Temple by reason of the goddesse. In this sort, they went from\nplace to place, robbing all the Countrey over. At length they came to a\ncertaine Castle where under colour of divination, they brought to passe\nthat they obtained a fat sheepe of a poore husbandman for the goddesse\nsupper and to make sacrifice withall. After that the banket was\nprepared, they washed their bodies, and brought in a tall young man of\nthe village, to sup with them, who had scarce tasted a few pottage, when\nhee began to discover their beastly customes and inordinate desire of\nluxury. For they compassed him round about, sitting at the table, and\nabused the young man, contrary to all nature and reason. When I beheld\nthis horrible fact, I could not but attempt to utter my mind and say, O\nmasters, but I could pronounce no more but the first letter O, which I\nroared out so valiantly, that the young men of the towne seeking for a\nstraie Asse, that they had lost the same night, and hearing my voice,\nwhereby they judged that I had beene theirs, entred into the house\nunwares, and found these persons committing their vile abhomination,\nwhich when they saw, they declared to all the inhabitants by, their\nunnatural villany, mocking and laughing at this the pure and cleane\nchastity of their religion. In the meane season, Phelibus and his\ncompany, (by reason of the bruit which was dispersed throughout all the\nregion there of their beastly wickednesse) put all their trumpery upon\nmy backe, and departed away about midnight. When we had passed a great\npart of our journey, before the rising of the Sun, we came into a wild\ndesart, where they conspired together to slay me. For after they had\ntaken the goddesse from my backe and set her gingerly upon the ground,\nthey likewise tooke off my harnesse, and bound me surely to an Oake,\nbeating me with their whip, in such sort that all my body was mortified.\nAmongst whom there was one that threatened to cut off my legs with his\nhatchet, because by my noyse I diffamed his chastity, but the other\nregarding more their owne profit than my utility, thought best to spare\nmy life, because I might carry home the goddesse. So they laded me\nagaine, driving me before them with their naked swords, till they came\nto a noble City: where the principall Patrone bearing high reverence\nunto the goddesse, Came in great devotion before us with Tympany,\nCymbals, and other instruments, and received her, and all our company\nwith much sacrifice and veneration. But there I remember, I thought my\nselfe in most danger, for there was one that brought to the Master\nof the house, a side of a fat Bucke for a present, which being hanged\nbehind the kitchin doore, not far from the ground, was cleane eaten\nup by a gray hound, that came in. The Cooke when he saw the Venison\ndevoured, lamented and wept pitifully. And because supper time\napproached nigh, when as he should be reproved of too much negligence,\nhe tooke a halter to hang himselfe: but his wife perceiving whereabout\nhe went, ran incontinently to him, and taking the halter in both her\nhands, stopped him of his purpose, saying, O husband, are you out of\nyour writs? pray husband follow my counsel, cary this strange Asse out\ninto some secret place and kill him, which done, cut off one of his\nsides, and sawce it well like the side of the Bucke, and set it before\nyour Master. Then the Cooke hearing the counsell of his wife, was well\npleased to slay me to save himselfe: and so he went to the whetstone, to\nsharpe his tooles accordingly.\n\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\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\nwas happily 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 horses\nin the Inne by: And he spared neither man nor beast. For there was one\nMitilius a Mulettour, Epheseus, a Cooke, Hyppanius a chamberlaine, and\nAppolonius a Physition, who (thinking to chase away the madde Dogge)\nwere cruelly wounded by him, insomuch that many Horses and other beasts\ninfected with the venyme of his poysonous teeth became madde likewise.\nWhich thing caused them all at the table greatly to feare, and thinking\nthat I had beene bitten in like sort, came out with speares, Clubs, and\nPitchforks purposing to slay me, and I had undoubtedly beene slaine,\nhad I not by and by crept into the Chamber, where my Master intended to\nlodge all night. Then they closed and locked fast the doores about me,\nand kept the chamber round, till such time as they thought that the\npestilent rage of madnesse had killed me. When I was thus shutte in the\nchamber alone, I laid me downe upon the bed to sleepe, considering it\nwas long time past, since I lay and tooke my rest as a man doth. When\nmorning was come, and that I was well reposed, I rose up lustily. In the\nmeane season, they which were appointed to watch about the chamber all\nnight, reasoned with themselves in this sort, Verely (quoth one) I\nthink that this rude Asse be dead. So think I (quoth another) for the\noutragious poyson of madness hath killed him, but being thus in divers\nopinions of a poore Ass, they looked through a crevis, and espied me\nstanding still, sober and quiet in the middle of the chamber; then they\nopened the doores, and came towards me, to prove whether I were gentle\nor no. Amongst whom there was one, which in my opinion, was sent from\nHeaven to save my life, that willed the other to set a bason of faire\nwater before me, and thereby they would know whether I were mad or no,\nfor if I did drinke without feare as I accustomed to do, it was a signe\nthat I was whole, and in mine Assie wits, where contrary if I did flie\nand abhorre the tast of the water, it was evident proofe of my madness,\nwhich thing he said that he had read in ancient and credible books,\nwhereupon they tooke a bason of cleere water, and presented it before\nme: but I as soone as I perceived the wholesome water of my life, ran\nincontinently, thrusting my head into the bason, drank as though I had\nbeene greatly athirst; then they stroked me with their hands, and bowed\nmine eares, and tooke me by the halter, to prove my patience, but I\ntaking each thing in good part, disproved their mad presumption, by my\nmeeke and gentle behaviour: when I was thus delivered from this double\ndanger, the next day I was laded againe with the goddesse Siria, and\nother trumpery, and was brought into the way with Trumpets and Cymbals\nto beg in the villages which we passed by according to our custome. And\nafter that we had gone through a few towns and Castles, we fortuned to\ncome to 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\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 was\ngone betimes in the morning to the field about his businesse, according\nas he accustomed to doe, his wives lover secretly came into his house to\nhave his pleasure with her. And so it chanced that during the time\nthat shee and he were basking together, her husband suspecting no such\nmatter, returned home praising the chast continency of his wife, in\nthat hee found his doores fast closed, wherefore as his custome was, he\nwhistled to declare his comming. Then his crafty wife ready with shifts,\ncaught her lover and covered him under a great tub standing in a corner,\nand therewithall she opened the doore, blaming her husband in this sort:\nCommest thou home every day with empty hands, and bringest nothing\nto maintaine our house? thou hast no regard for our profit, neither\nprovidest for any meate or drinke, whereas I poore wretch doe nothing\nday and night but occupie my selfe with spinning, and yet my travell\nwill scarce find the Candels which we spend. O how much more happy is my\nneighbour Daphne, that eateth and drinketh at her pleasure and passeth\nthe time with her amorous lovers according to her desire. What is the\nmatter (quoth her husband) though Our Master hath made holiday at the\nfields, yet thinke not but I have made provision for our supper; doest\nthou not see this tub that keepeth a place here in our house in vaine,\nand doth us no service? Behold I have sold it to a good fellow (that is\nhere present) for five pence, wherefore I pray thee lend me thy hand,\nthat I may deliver him the tub. His wife (having invented a present\nshift) laughed on her husband, saying: What marchant I pray you have you\nbrought home hither, to fetch away my tub for five pence, for which I\npoore woman that sit all day alone in my house have beene proffered so\noften seaven: her husband being well apayed of her words demanded what\nhe was that had bought the tub: Looke (quoth she) he is gone under, to\nsee where it be sound or no: then her lover which was under the tub,\nbegan to stirre and rustle himselfe, and because his words might agree\nto the words of the woman, he sayd: Dame will you have me tell the\ntruth, this tub is rotten and crackt as me seemeth on every side. And\nthen turning to her husband sayd: I pray you honest man light a Candle,\nthat I may make cleane the tub within, to see if it be for my purpose\nor no, for I doe not mind to cast away my money wilfully: he by and\nby (being made a very Oxe) lighted a candle, saying, I pray you good\nbrother put not your selfe to so much paine, let me make the tub cleane\nand ready for you. Whereupon he put off his coate, and crept under\nthe tub to rub away the filth from the sides. In the meane season\nthis minion lover cast his wife on the bottome of the tub and had his\npleasure with her over his head, and as he was in the middest of his\npastime, hee turned his head on this side and that side, finding fault\nwith this and with that, till as they had both ended their businesse,\nwhen as he delivered seaven pence for the tub, and caused the good man\nhimselfe to carry it on his backe againe to his Inne.\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\nAfter that we had tarried there a few dayes at the cost and charges\nof the 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 lotts,\nwhereon 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 to\nthe intent it may bring forth his increase: and by these kind of lottes\nthey deceive many of the simple sort, for if one had demanded whether he\nshould have a good wife or no, they would say that his lot did testifie\nthe same, that he should be tyed and yoked to a good woman and have\nincrease of children. If one demanded whether he should buy lands and\npossession, they said that he should have much ground that should\nyeeld his increase. If one demanded whether he should have a good and\nprosperous voyage, they said he should have good successe, and it should\nbe for the increase of his profit. If one demanded whether hee should\nvanquish his enemies, and prevaile in pursuite of theeves, they said\nthat this enemy should be tyed and yoked to him: and his pursuits after\ntheeves should be prosperous. Thus by the telling of fortunes, they\ngathered a great quantity of money, but when they were weary with giving\nof answers, they drave me away before them next night, through a lane\nwhich was more dangerous and stony then the way which we went the night\nbefore, for on the one side were quagmires and foggy marshes, on the\nother side were falling trenches and ditches, whereby my legges failed\nme, in such sort that I could scarce come to the plaine field pathes.\nAnd behold by and by a great company of inhabitants of the towne armed\nwith weapons and on horsebacke overtooke us, and incontinently arresting\nPhilebus and his Priests, tied them by the necks and beate them cruelly,\ncalling them theeves and robbers, and after they had manacled their\nhands: Shew us (quoth they) the cup of gold, which (under the colour of\nyour solemne religion) ye have taken away, and now ye thinke to escape\nin the night without punishment for your fact. By and by one came\ntowards me, and thrusting his hand into the bosome of the goddesse\nSiria, brought out the cup which they had stole. Howbeit for all they\nappeared evident and plaine they would not be confounded nor abashed,\nbut jesting and laughing out the matter, gan say: Is it reason masters\nthat you should thus rigorously intreat us, and threaten for a small\ntrifling cup, which the mother of the Goddesse determined to give to her\nsister for a present? Howbeit for all their lyes and cavellations, they\nwere carryed backe unto the towne, and put in prison by the Inhabitants,\nwho taking the cup of gold, and the goddesse which I bare, did put and\nconsecrate them amongst the treasure of the temple. The next day I was\ncarryed to the market to be sold, and my price was set at seaven pence\nmore then Philebus gave for me. There fortuned to passe by a Baker of\nthe next village, who after that he had bought a great deale of corne,\nbought me likewise to carry it home, and when he had well laded me\ntherewith, be drave me through a thorny and dangerous way to his bake\nhouse; there I saw a great company of horses that went in the mill day\nand night grinding of corne, but lest I should be discouraged at the\nfirst, my master entertained me well, for the first day I did nothing\nbut fare daintily, howbeit such mine ease and felicity did not long\nendure, for the next day following I was tyed to the mill betimes in\nthe morning with my face covered, to the end in turning amid winding so\noften one way, I should not become giddy, but keepe a certaine course,\nbut although when I was a man I had seen many such horsemills and knew\nwell enough how they should be turned, yet feining my selfe ignorant of\nsuch kind of toile, I stood still and would not goe, whereby I thought\nI should be taken from the mill as an Asse unapt, and put to some other\nlight thing, or else to be driven into the fields to pasture, but my\nsubtility did me small good, for by and by when the mill stood still,\nthe servants came about me, crying and beating me forward, in such\nsort that I could not stay to advise my selfe, whereby all the company\nlaughed to see so suddaine a change. When a good part of the day was\npast, that I was not able to endure any longer, they tooke off my\nharnesse, and tied me to the manger, but although my bones were weary,\nand that I needed to refresh my selfe with rest and provender, yet I was\nso curious that I did greatly delight to behold the bakers art, insomuch\nthat I could not eate nor drinke 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 and\nface were so blacke and dimme with smoake, like those that fight in the\nsands, 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 skinne\nrugged by reason of their lancknesse. When I saw this dreadfull sight,\nI began to feare, least I should come to the like state: and considering\nwith my selfe the good fortune which I was sometime in when I was a man,\nI greatly lamented, holding downe my head, and would eate no meate, but\nI saw no comfort or consolation of my evill fortune, saving that my mind\nwas somewhat recreated to heare and understand what every man said, for\nthey neither feared nor doubted my presence. At that time I remembred\nhow Homer the divine author of ancient Poetry, described him to be a\nwise man, which had travelled divers countries and nations, wherefore I\ngave great thanks to my Asse for me, in that by this meanes I had seene\nthe experience of many things, and was become more wise (notwithstanding\nthe great misery and labour which I daily sustained): but I will tell\nyou a pretty jest, which commeth now to my remembrance, to the intent\nyour eares may be delighted in hearing the same.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTIETH CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was handled by the Bakers wife, which was a harlot.\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 many\nmiseries and afflictions with her, so that I my selfe did secretly pitty\nhis estate, and bewaile his evill fortune: for she had not one fault\nalone, but all the mischiefes that could be devised: shee was crabbed,\ncruell, lascivious, drunken, obstinate, niggish, covetous, riotous in\nfilthy expenses, and an enemy to faith and chastity, a despise of all\nthe Gods, whom other did honour, one that affirmed that she had a God\nby her selfe, wherby she deceived all men, but especially her poore\nhusband, one that abandoned her body with continuall whoredome. This\nmischievous queane hated me in such sort, that shee commanded every day\nbefore she was up, that I should he put into the mill to grind: and the\nfirst thing which she would doe in the morning, was to see me cruelly\nbeaten, and that I should grind when the other beasts did feed and take\nrest. When I saw that I was so cruelly handled, she gave me occasion to\nlearne her conversation and life, for I saw oftentimes a yong man which\nwould privily goe into her chamber whose face I did greatly desire to\nsee, but I could not by reason mine eyes were covered every day. And\nverily if I had beene free and at liberty, I would have discovered all\nher abhomination. She had an old woman, a bawd, a messenger of mischiefe\nthat daily haunted to her house, and made good cheere with her to the\nutter undoing and impoverishment of her husband, but I that was greatly\noffended with the negligence of Fotis, who made me an Asse, in stead\nof a Bird, did yet comfort my selfe by this onely meane, in that to the\nmiserable deformity of my shape, I had long eares, whereby I might\nheare all things that was done: On a day I heard the old bawd say to the\nBakers wife:\n\nDame you have chosen (without my counsell) a young man to your\nlover, who 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\nnot one 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 very\nwell, for we two dwelleth together in one house: Then you know (quoth\nthe old woman) the whole tale of Philesiterus? No verily (said she) but\nI greatly desire to know it: therefore I pray you mother tell me the\nwhole story. By and by the old woman which knew well to babble, began to\ntell 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\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 was\ndiligently kept by Myrmex, thought it impossible to have his purpose,\nyet (indeavouring by all kind of meanes to enterprise the matter, and\nremembring the fragility of man, that might be intised and corrupted\nwith money, since as by gold the adamant gates may be opened) on a day,\nwhen he found Myrmex alone, he discovered his love, desiring him to shew\nhis favour, (otherwise he should certainly dye) with assurance that\nhe need not to feare when as he might privily be let in and out in the\nnight, without knowledge of any person. When he thought, with these and\nother gentle words to allure and prick forward the obstinate mind of\nMyrmex he shewed him glittering gold in his hand, saying that he would\ngive his mistresse twenty crowns and him ten, but Myrmex hearing these\nwords, was greatly troubled, abhorring in his mind to commit such a\nmischiefe: wherfore he stopped his eares, and turning his head departed\naway: howbeit the glittering view of these crownes could never be out of\nhis mind, but being at home he seemed to see the money before his eyes,\nwhich was so worthy a prey, wherefore poore Myrmex being in divers\nopinions could not tell what to doe, for on the one side lie considered\nthe promise which he made to his master, and the punishment that should\nensue if he did contrary. On the other side he thought of the gaine, and\nthe passing pleasure of the crownes of gold; in the end the desire of\nthe money did more prevaile then the feare of death, for the beauty\nof the flowrishing crownes did so sticke in his mind, that where the\nmenaces of his master compelled him to tarry at home, the pestilent\navarice of gold egged him out a doores, wherefore putting all shame\naside, without further delay, he declared all the whole matter to his\nMistresse, who according to the nature of a woman, when she heard him\nspeake of so great a summe she bound chastity in a string, and gave\nauthority to Myrmex to rule her in that case. Myrmex seeing the intent\nof his Mistresse, was very glad, and for great desire of the gold, he\nran hastily to Philesiterus, declaring that his Mistresse was consented\nto his mind, wherefore he demanded the gold which he promised. Then\nincontinently Philesiterus delivered him tenne Crownes, and when night\ncame, Myrmex brought him disguised into his mistresses Chamber. About\nMidnight when he and she were naked together, making sacrifice unto the\nGoddesse Venus, behold her husband (contrary to their expectation)\ncame and knocked at the doore, calling with a loud voice to his Servant\nMyrmex: whose long tarrying increased the suspition of his Master,\nin such sort that he threatned to beat Myrmex cruelly: but he being\ntroubled with feare, and driven to his latter shifts, excused the matter\nsaying: that he could not find the key: by reason it was so darke. In\nthe meane season Philesiterus hearing the noise at the doore, slipt on\nhis coat and privily ran out of the Chamber. When Myrmex had opened the\ndoore to his Master that threatned terribly, and had let him in, he\nwent into the Chamber to his wife: In the mean while Myrmex let out\nPhilesiterus, and barred the doores fast, and went againe to bed. The\nnext morning when Barbarus awaked, he perceived two unknown slippers\nlying under his bed, which Philesiterus had forgotten when he went away.\nThen he conceived a great suspition and jealousie in mind, howbeit he\nwould not discover it to his wife, neither to any other person, but\nputting secretly the slippers into his bosome, commanded his other\nServants to bind Myrmex incontinently, and to bring him bound to the\nJustice after him, thinking verily that by the meane of the slippers he\nmight boult out the matter. It fortuned that while Barbarus went towards\nthe Justice in a fury and rage, and Myrmex fast bound, followed him\nweeping, not because he was accused before his master, but by reason he\nknew his owne conscience guilty: behold by adventure Philesiterus (going\nabout earnest businesse) fortuned to meet with them by the way, who\nfearing the matter which he committed the night before, and doubting\nlest it should be knowne, did suddainly invent a meane to excuse Myrmex,\nfor he ran upon him and beate him about the head with his fists, saying:\nAh mischievous varlet that thou art, and perjured knave. It were a good\ndeed if the Goddesse and thy master here, would put thee to death, for\nthou art worthy to be imprisoned and to weare out these yrons, that\nstalest my slippers away when thou werest at my baines yester night.\nBarbarus hearing this returned incontinently home, and called his\nservant Myrmex, commanding him to deliver the slippers againe to the\nright 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 of\na coward, who is not onely afraid of my husband but also of every clap\nof the mill, and dares not doe nothing, before the blind face of yonder\nscabbed Asse. Then the old woman answered, I promise you certainly\nif you will, you shall have this young man at your pleasure, and\ntherewithall when night came, she departed out of her chamber. In the\nmeane season, the Bakers wife made ready a supper with abundance of wine\nand exquisite fare: so that there lacked nothing, but the comming of the\nyoung man, for her husband supped at one of her neighbours houses. When\ntime came that my harnesse should be taken off and that I should rest my\nselfe, I was not so joyfull of my liberty, as when the vaile was taken\nfrom mine eyes, I should see all the abhomination of this mischievous\nqueane. When night was come and the Sunne gone downe, behold the old\nbawd and the young man, who seemed to be but a child, by reason he had\nno beard, came to the doore. Then the Bakers wife kissed him a thousand\ntimes and received him courteously, placed him downe at the table: but\nhe had scarce eaten the first morsell, when the good man (contrary to\nhis wives expectation) returned home, for she thought he would not have\ncome so soone: but Lord how she cursed him, praying God that he might\nbreake his necke at the first entry in. In the meane season, she caught\nher lover and thrust him into the bin where she bolted her flower, and\ndissembling the matter, finely came to her husband demanding why he came\nhome so soone. I could not abide (quoth he) to see so great a mischiefe\nand wicked fact, which my neighbours wife committed, but I must run\naway: O harlot as she is, how hath she dishonoured her husband, I sweare\nby the goddesse Ceres, that if I had [not] seene it with mine eyes, I\nwould never I have beleeved it. His wife desirous to know the matter,\ndesired him to tell what she had done: then hee accorded to the request\nof his wife, and ignorant of the estate of his own house, declared the\nmischance of another. You shall understand (quoth he) that the wife\nof the Fuller my companion, who seemed to me a wise and chast woman,\nregarding her own honesty and profit of her house, was found this night\nwith her knave. For while we went to wash our hands, hee and she were\ntogether: who being troubled with our presence ran into a corner, and\nshe thrust him into a mow made with twigs, appoynted to lay on clothes\nto make them white with the smoake of fume and brymstone. Then she sate\ndown with us at the table to colour the matter: in the meant season the\nyoung man covered in the mow, could not forbeare sneesing, by reason of\nthe smoake of the brymstone. The good man thinking it had beene his\nwife that sneesed, cryed, Christ helpe. But when he sneesed more, he\nsuspected the matter, and willing to know who it was, rose from the\ntable, and went to the mow, where hee found a young man welnigh dead\nwith smoke. When hee understood the whole matter, he was so inflamed\nwith anger that he called for a sword to kill him, and undoubtedly he\nhad killed him, had I not restrained his violent hands from his purpose,\nassuring him, that his enemy would dye with the force of his brimstone,\nwithout the harme which he should doe. Howbeit my words would not\nappease his fury, but as necessity required he tooke the young man well\nnigh choked, and carried him out at the doores. In the meane season,\nI counsailed his wife to absent her selfe at some of her Neighbours\nhouses, till the choller of her husband was pacified, lest he should be\nmoved against her, as he was against the young man. And so being weary\nof their supper, I forthwith returned home. When the Baker had told\nhis tale, his impudent wife began to curse and abhorre the wife of the\nFuller, and generally all other wives, which abandon their bodies with\nany other then with their owne Husbands, breaking the faith and bond\nof marriage, 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,\nand lifting up my heeles, I spurned off the flesh with the force of\nmy hoofes, 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: Feare\nnot my Sonne, nor thinke that I am so barbarous or cruell a person,\nthat I would stiffle thee up with the smoke of Sulphur as our neighbour\naccustometh, nor I will not punish thee according to the rigour of the\nlaw of Julia, which commandeth the Adulterers should be put to death:\nNo no, I will not execute my cruelty against so faire and comely a young\nman as you be, but we will devide our pleasure betweene us, by lying\nall three in one bed, to the end there may be no debate nor dissention\nbetweene us, but that either of us may be contented, for I have alwayes\nlived with my wife in such tranquillity, that according to the saying\nof the wisemen, whatsoever I say, she holdeth for law, and indeed equity\nwill not suffer, but that the husband should beare more authority then\nthe wife: with these and like words he led the young-man to his Chamber,\nand closed his wife in another Chamber. On the next morrow, he called\ntwo of the most sturdiest Servants of his house, who held up the young\nman, while he scourged his buttockes welfavouredly with rods like a\nchild. When he had well beaten him, he said: Art not thou ashamed, thou\nthat art so tender and delicate a child, to desire the violation of\nhonest marriages, and to defame thy selfe with wicked living, whereby\nthou hast gotten the name of an Adulterer? After he had spoken these and\nlike words, he whipped him againe, and chased him out of his house. The\nyoung-man who was the comeliest of all the adulterers, ran away, and\ndid nothing else that night save onely bewaile his striped and painted\nbuttockes. Soone after the Baker sent one to his wife, who divorced her\naway in his name, but she beside her owne naturall mischiefe, (offended\nat this great contumely, though she had worthily deserved the same) had\nrecourse to wicked arts and trumpery, never ceasing untill she had found\nout an Enchantresse, who (as it was thought) could doe what she would\nwith her Sorcery 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\nspirit to 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\ninto the Milhouse, very sorrowfull, raggedly attired, with bare feete,\nmeigre, ill-favoured, and her hayre scattering upon her face: This woman\ntooke the Baker by the hand, and faining that she had some secret matter\nto tell him, went into a chamber, where they remained a good space, till\nall the corne was ground, when as the servants were compelled to call\ntheir master to give them more corne, but when they had called very\noften, and no person gave answer, they began to mistrust, insomuch that\nthey brake open the doore: when they were come in, they could not find\nthe woman, but onely their master hanging dead upon a rafter of the\nchamber, whereupon they cryed and lamented greatly, and according to the\ncustome, when they had washed themselves, they tooke the body and buried\nit. The next day morrow, the daughter of the Baker, which was married\nbut a little before to one of the next Village, came crying and beating\nher breast, not because she heard of the death of her father by any\nman, but because his lamentable spirit, with a halter about his necke\nappeared to her in the night, declaring the whole circumstance of his\ndeath, and how by inchantment he was descended into hell, which caused\nher to thinke that her father was dead. After that she had lamented a\ngood space, and was somewhat comforted by the servants of the house, and\nwhen nine dayes were expired, as inheretrix to her father, she sold away\nall the substance of the house, whereby the goods chanced into divers\nmens 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\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 the\nnext Village, and when he had sold his hearbes, hee would mount upon\nmy backe and returne to the Garden, and while he digged the ground and\nwatered the hearbes, and went about other businesse, I did nothing but\nrepose my selfe with great ease, but when Winter approached with sharpe\nhaile, raine and frosts, and I standing under a hedge side, was welnigh\nkilled up with cold, and my master was so poore that he had no lodging\nfor himselfe, much lesse had he any littor or place to cover me withall,\nfor he himselfe alwayes lay under a little roofe shadowed with boughes.\nIn the morning when I arose, I found my hoofes shriveled together with\ncold, and unable to passe upon the sharpe ice, and frosty mire, neither\ncould I fill my belly with meate, as I accustomed to doe, for my master\nand I supped together, and had both one fare: howbeit it was very\nslender since as wee had nothing else saving old and unsavoury sallets\nwhich were suffered to grow for seed, like long broomes, and that had\nlost 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 great\nfire under. By and by a Weasel was scene that drew into the house a dead\nSerpent, and out of the mouth of a Shepheards dog leaped a live frog,\nand immediately after one brought word that a Ram had strangled the same\ndog at one bit. All these things that happened, astonied the good man of\nthe house, and the residue that were present, insomuch that they could\nnot tell what to doe, or with what sacrifice to appease the anger of\nthe gods. While every man was thus stroken in feare, behold, one brought\nword to the good man of the house, that his three sonnes who had been\nbrought up in good literature, and endued with good manners were dead,\nfor they three had great acquaintance and ancient amity with a poore man\nwhich was their neighbour, and dwelled hard by them: and next unto him\ndwelled another young man very rich both in lands and goods, but bending\nfrom the race of his progenies dissentions, and ruling himselfe in the\ntowne according to his owne will. This young royster did mortally hate\nthis poore man, insomuch that he would kill his sheepe, steale his oxen,\nand spoyle his corne and other fruits before the time of ripenesse, yet\nwas he not contented with this, but he would encroch upon the poore mans\nground, and clayme all the heritage as his owne. The poore man which\nwas very simple and fearefull, seeing all his goods taken away by the\navarice of the rich man, called together and assembled many of his\nfriends to shew them all his land, to the end he might have but so much\nground of his fathers heritage, as might bury him. Amongst whom, he\nfound these three brethren, as friends to helpe and ayd him in his\nadversity and tribulation.\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 the\npoore, 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 dogges.\nIt fortuned amongst all this fearefull company, that in running, the\nyoungest of the three brethren stombled at a stone, and fell down to the\nground: Then the dogs came upon him and tare him in peeces with their\nteeth, whereby he was compelled to cry for succour: His other two\nbrethren hearing his lamentable voice ran towards him to helpe him,\ncasting their cloakes about their left armes, tooke up stones to chase\naway the dogs, but all was in vaine, for they might see their brother\ndismembred in every part of his body: Who lying at the very point of\ndeath, desired his brethren to revenge his death against that cruell\ntyrant: And therewithall lie gave up the ghost. The other two brethren\nperceiving so great a murther, and neglecting their owne lives, like\ndesperate persons dressed themselves against the tyrant, and threw a\ngreat number of stones at him, but the bloudy theefe exercised in such\nand like mischiefes, tooke a speare and thrust it cleane through the\nbody: howbeit he fell not downe to the ground. For the speare that came\nout at his backe ran into the earth, and sustained him up. By and by\ncame one of these tyrants servants the most sturdiest of the rest to\nhelpe his master, who at the first comming tooke up a stone and threw at\nthe third brother, but by reason the stone ran along his arme it did not\nhurt him, which chanced otherwise then all mens expectation was: by and\nby the young man feigning that his arme was greatly wounded, spake these\nwords unto the cruell bloud sucker: Now maist thou, thou wretch, triumph\nupon the destruction of all our family, now hast thou fed thy insatiable\ncruelty with the bloud of three brethren, now maist thou rejoyce at the\nfall of us Citizens, yet thinke not but that how farre thou dost remove\nand extend the bounds of thy land, thou shalt have some neighbor, but\nhow greatly am I sorry in that I have lost mine arme wherewithall I\nminded to cut off thy head. When he had spoken these words, the furious\ntheefe drew out his dagger, and running upon the young man thought\nverily to have slaine him, but it chanced otherwise: For the young man\nresisted him stoutly, and in buckling together by violence wrested the\ndagger out of his hand: which done, he killed the rich theefe with his\nowne weapon, and to the intent the young man would escape the hands of\nthe servants which came running to assist their master, with the same\ndagger he cut his owne throat. These things were signified by the\nstrange and dreadfull wondres which fortuned in the house of the good\nman, who after he had heard these sorrowfull tydings could in no wise\nweepe, so farre was he stroken with dolour, but presently taking his\nknife wherewith he cut his cheese and other meate before, he cut his\nowne throat likewise, in such sort that he fell upon the bord and\nimbraced the table with the streames of his blond, in most miserable\nmanner. Hereby was my master the Gardener deprived of his hope, and\npaying for his dinner the watry teares of his eyes, mounted upon my\nbacke and so we went homeward the same way as wee came.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTY-THIRD CHAPTER\n\n\nHow Apuleius was found by his shadow.\n\nAs wee passed by the way wee met with a tall souldier (for so his habite\nand countenance declared) who with proud and arrogant words spake to my\nmaster 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 me\naway: but my master wiping away the blood of the blow which he received\nof the souldier, desired him gently and civilly to take some pitty upon\nhim, and to let him depart with his owne, swearing and affirming that\nhis slow Asse, welnigh dead with sicknesse, could scarce carry a few\nhandfuls of hearbs to the next towne, much lesse he was able to beare\nany greater trusses: but when he saw the souldier would in no wise\nbe intreated, but ready with his staffe to cleave my masters head, my\nmaster fell down at his feete, under colour to move him to some pitty,\nbut when he saw his time, he tooke the souldier by the legs and cast him\nupon the ground: Then he buffetted him, thumped him, bit him, and tooke\na stone and beat his face and his sides, that he could not turne and\ndefend himselfe, but onely threaten that if ever he rose, he would\nchoppe him in pieces. The Gardener when he heard him say so, drew out\nhis javelin which hee had by his side, and when he had throwne it away,\nhe knockt and beate him more cruelly then he did before, insomuch that\nthe souldier could not tell by what meanes to save himselfe, but by\nfeining that he was dead, Then my master tooke the javelin and mounted\nupon my backe, riding in all hast to the next village, having no regard\nto goe to his Garden, and when he came thither, he turned into one of\nhis friends house and declared all the whole matter, desiring him to\nsave his life and to hide himselfe and his Asse in some secret\nplace, untill such time as all danger were past. Then his friends not\nforgetting the ancient amity betweene them, entertained him willingly\nand drew me up a paire of staires into a chamber, my master crept into\na chest, and lay there with the cover closed fast: The souldier (as I\nafterwards learned) rose up as one awaked from a drunken sleepe, but he\ncould scarce goe by reason of his wounds: howbeit at length by little\nand little through ayd of his staffe he came to the towne, but hee would\nnot declare the matter to any person nor complaine to any justice, lest\nhe should be accused of cowardise or dastardnesse, yet in the end he\ntold some of his companions of all the matter that happened: then they\ntooke him and caused him to be closed in some secret place, thinking\nthat beside the injury which he had received, he should be accused of\nthe breach of his faith, by reason of the losse of his speare, and when\nthey had learned the signes of my master, they went to search him out:\nat last there was an unfaithfull neighbour that told them where he was,\nthen incontinently the souldiers went to the Justice declaring that\nthey had lost by the way a silver goblet of their Captaines, and that a\nGardener had found it, who refusing to deliver the goblet, was hidden in\none of his friends houses: by and by the Magistrates understanding the\nlosse of the Captaine, came to the doores where we were, commanded our\nhost to 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\nthe matter, the Magistrates commanded their Seargants and ministers\nto search 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\na noyse, 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 is\nrisen a common Proverbe: 'The shadow of the Asse.'\n\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\nThe next day how my master the Gardener sped, I knew not, but the gentle\nsouldier, who was well beaten for his cowardise, lead me to his lodging\nwithout the contradiction of any man: Where hee laded me well, and\ngarnished my body (as seemed to me) like an Asse of armes. For on the\none side I bare an helmet that shined exceedingly: On the other side\na Target that glistered more a thousand folde. And on the top of my\nburthen he put a long speare, which things he placed thus gallantly, not\nbecause he was so expert in warre (for the Gardener proved the contrary)\nbut to the end he might feare those which passed by, when they saw such\na similitude of warre. When we had gone a good part of our journey,\nover the plaine and easie fields, we fortuned to come to a little towne,\nwhere we lodged at a certaine Captaines house. And there the souldier\ntooke me to one of the servants, while he himselfe went towards his\ncaptaine; who had the charge of a thousand men. And when we had remained\nthere a few dayes, I understood of a wicked and mischievous fact\ncommitted there, which I have put in writing to the end you may know the\nsame. The master of the house had a sonne instructed in good literature,\nand endued with vertuous manners, such a one as you would desire to have\nthe like. Long time before his mother dyed, and when his father married\na new wife, and had another child of the age of xii. yeares. The\nstepdame was more excellent in beauty then honesty: for she loved this\nyoung man her sonne in law, either because she was unchast by nature,\nor because she was enforced by fate of stepmother, to commit so great a\nmischiefe. Gentle reader, thou shalt not read of a fable, but rather a\ntragedy: This woman when her love began first to kindle in her heart,\ncould easily resist her desire and inordinate appetite by reason\nof shame and feare, lest her intent should be knowne: But after it\ncompassed and burned every part of her brest, she was compelled to yeeld\nunto the raging flame of Cupid, and under colour of the disease and\ninfirmity of her body, to conceale the wound of her restlesse mind.\nEvery man knoweth well the signes and tokens of love, and the malady\nconvenient to the same: Her countenance was pale, her eyes sorrowfull,\nher knees weake, and there was no comfort in her, but continuall weeping\nand sobbing, insomuch that you would have thought that she had some\nspice of an ague, saving that she wept unmeasurably: the Phisitians\nknew not her disease, when they felt the beating of her veines, the\nintemperance of her heart, the sobbing sighes, and her often tossing of\nevery side: No, no, the cunning Phisitian knew it not, but a scholler of\nVenus Court might easily conjecture the whole. After that she had beene\nlong time tormented in her affliction, and was no more able to conceale\nher ardent desire, shee caused her sonne to be called for, (which word\nson she would faine put away if it were not for shame:) Then he nothing\ndisobedient to the commandement of his mother, with a sad and modest\ncountenance, came into the chamber of his stepdame, the mother of his\nbrother, but she speaking never a word was in great doubt what she might\ndoe, and could not tell what to say first, by reason of shame. The young\nman suspecting 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:\nThou art my comfort and onely health, for those thy comely eyes are\nso enfastned 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 dost\nresemble thy fathers shape in every point, it giveth me cause the more\nto fancy thee: Now is ministred unto thee time and place: Now hast thou\noccasion to worke thy will, seeing that we are alone. And it is a common\nsaying:\n\nNever knowne, never done.\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:\nAnd in 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\nof wise 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 secrets.\nAnd there it was concluded betweene them two, that the surest way was\nto kill the young man: Whereupon this varlet went incontinently to buy\npoyson, which he mingled with wine, to the intent he would give it to\nthe young man to drinke, and thereby presently to kill him. But while\nthey were in deliberation how they might offer it unto him, behold here\nhappened a strange adventure. For the young sonne of the woman that came\nfrom schoole at noone (being very thirsty) tooke the pot wherein the\npoyson was mingled, and ignorant of the venim, dranke a good draught\nthereof, which was prepared to kill his brother: whereby he presently\nfell downe to the ground dead. His schoolemaster seeing his suddaine\nchange, called his mother, and all the servants of the house with a lowd\nvoyce. Incontinently every man declared his opinion, touching the death\nof the child: but the cruell woman the onely example of stepmothers\nmalice, was nothing moved by the bitter death of her sonne, or by her\nowne conscience of paracide, or by the misfortune of her house, or by\nthe dolour of her husband, but rather devised the destruction of all her\nfamily. For by and by shee sent a messenger after her husband to tell\nhim the great misfortune which happened after his departure. And when\nlie came home, the wicked woman declared that his sonne had empoysoned\nhis brother, because he would not consent to his will, and told him\ndivers other leasings, adding in the end that hee threatned to kill her\nlikewise, because she discovered the fact: Then the unhappy father was\nstroken with double dolour of the death of his two children, for on the\none side he saw his younger sonne slaine before his eyes, on the other\nside, he seemed to see the elder condemned to dye for his offence:\nAgaine, where he beheld his wife lament in such sort, it gave him\nfurther occasion to hate his sonne more deadly; but the funerals of his\nyounger sonne were scarce finished, when the old man the father with\nweeping eyes even at the returne from the grave, went to the Justice and\naccused his sonne of the slaughter of his brother, and how he threatned\nto slay his wife, whereby the rather at his weeping and lamentation, he\nmoved all the Magistrates and people to pitty, insomuch that without any\ndelay, or further inquisition they cryed all that hee should be stoned\nto death, but the Justices fearing a farther inconvenience to arise by\nthe particular vengeance, and to the end there might fortune no sedition\namongst the people, prayed the decurions and other Officers of the City,\nthat they might proceed by examination of witnesses, and with order of\njustice according to the ancient custome before the judging of any hasty\nsentence or judgment, without the hearing of the contrary part, like as\nthe barbarous and cruell tyrants accustome to use: otherwise they should\ngive an ill example to their successours. This opinion pleased every\nman, wherefore the Senatours and counsellors were called, who being\nplaced in order according to their dignity, caused the accuser and\ndefender to be brought forth, and by the example of the Athenian law,\nand judgement materiall, their Advocates were commanded to plead their\ncauses briefly without preambles or motions of the people to pitty,\nwhich were too long a processe. And if you demand how I understood all\nthis matter, you shall understand that I heard many declare the same,\nbut to recite what words the accuser used in his invective, what answer\nthe defender made, the orations and pleadings of each party, verily I\nam not able to doe: for I was fast bound at the manger. But as I learned\nand knew by others, I will God willing declare unto you. So it was\nordered, that after the pleadings of both sides was ended, they thought\nbest to try and boult out the verity by witnesses, all presumptions and\nlikelihood set apart, and to call in the servant, who onely was reported\nto know all the matter: by and by the servant came in, who nothing\nabashed, at the feare of so great a judgment, or at the presence of the\nJudges, or at his owne guilty conscience, which hee so finely fained,\nbut with a bold countenance presented himselfe before the justices and\nconfirmed the accusation against the young man, saying: O yee judges, on\na day when this young man loathed and hated his stepmother, hee called\nmee, desiring mee to poyson his brother, whereby hee might revenge\nhimselfe, and if I would doe it and keepe the matter secret, hee\npromised to give me a good reward for my paines: but when the young man\nperceived that I would not accord to his will, he threatned to slay mee,\nwhereupon hee went himselfe and bought poyson, and after tempered it\nwith wine, and then gave it me to give the child, which when I refused\nhe offered it to his brother with his own hands. When the varlet with a\ntrembling countenance had ended these words which seemed a likelihood\nof truth, the judgement was ended: neither was there found any judge or\ncounsellor, so mercifull to the young man accused, as would not judge\nhim culpable, but that he should be put and sowne in a skin, with\na dogge, a Cocke, a Snake, and an Ape, according to the law against\nparricides: wherefore they wanted nothing but (as the ancient custome\nwas) to put white stones and black into a pot, and to take them out\nagaine, to see whether the young-man accused should be acquitted by\njudgment or condemned, which was a thing irrevocable.\n\nIn the mean season he was delivered to the hands of the executioner. But\nthere arose a sage and ancient Physitian, a man of a good conscience\nand credit throughout all the City, that stopped the mouth of the\npot wherein the stones were cast, saying: I am right glad ye reverend\njudges, that I am a man of name and estimation amongst you, whereby I am\naccompted such a one as will not suffer any person to be put to death by\nfalse and untrue accusations, considering there hath bin no homicide\nor murther committed by this yong man in this case, neither you (being\nsworn to judge uprightly) to be misinformed and abused by invented lyes\nand tales. For I cannot but declare and open my conscience, least I\nshould be found to beare small honour and faith to the Gods, wherefore\nI pray you give eare, and I will shew you the whole truth of the matter.\nYou shall understand that this servant which hath merited to be hanged,\ncame one of these dayes to speake with me, promising to give me a\nhundred crownes, if I would give him present poyson, which would cause\na man to dye suddenly, saying, that he would have it for one that was\nsicke of an incurable disease, to the end he might be delivered from all\ntorment, but I smelling his crafty and subtill fetch, and fearing least\nhe would worke some mischiefe withall, gave him a drinke; but to the\nintent I might cleare my selfe from all danger that might happen, I\nwould not presently take the money which he offered. But least any of\nthe crownes should lacke weight or be found counterfeit, I willed him to\nscale the purse wherein they were put, with his manuell signe, whereby\nthe next day we might goe together to the Goldsmith to try them, which\nhe did; wherefore understanding that he was brought present before you\nthis day, I hastily commanded one of my servants to fetch the purse\nwhich he had sealed, and here I bring it unto you to see whether he will\ndeny his owne signe or no: and you may easily conject that his words are\nuntrue, which he alleadged against the young man, touching the buying\nof the poyson, considering hee bought the poyson himselfe. When the\nPhysitian had spoken these words you might perceive how the trayterous\nknave changed his colour, how hee sweat for feare, how he trembled in\nevery part of his body: and how he set one leg upon another, scratching\nIbis head and grinding his teeth, whereby there was no person but would\njudge him culpable. In the end, when he was somewhat returned to his\nformer subtility, he began to deny all that was said, and stoutly\naffirmed, that the Physitian did lye. But the Physitian perceiving that\nhe was rayled at and his words denyed, did never cease to confirme his\nsayings, and to disprove the varlet, till such time as the Officers\nby the commandment of the Judges, bound his hands and brought out the\nseale, wherewith he had sealed the purse which augmented suspition which\nwas conceived of him first. Howbeit, neither the feare of the wheele or\nany other torment according to the use of the Grecians, which were ready\nprepared, no, nor yet the fire could enforce him to confesse the matter,\nso obstinate and grounded was he in his mischievous mind. But the\nPhysitian perceiving that the menaces of these torments did nothing\nprevaile, gan say: I cannot suffer or abide that this young man who\nis innocent, should against all law and conscience, be punished and\ncondemned to die, and the other which is culpable, should escape so\neasily, and after mocke and flowte at your judgement: for I will give\nyou an evident 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\nwill cause 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\nof his 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 layd;\nthere was none of the Justices, none of any reputation of the towne, nor\nany of the common people, but went to see this strange sight. Amongst\nthem all the father of the child remooved with his owne hands the stone\nof the Sepulchre, and found his Sonne rising up after his dead and\nsoporiferous sleepe, whom when he beheld, he imbraced him in his armes,\nand presented him before the people, with great joy and consolation, and\nas he was wrapped and bound in his grave, so he brought him before the\nJudges, whereupon the wickednesse of the Servant, and, the treason\nof the stepdame was plainely discovered, and the verity of the matter\nrevealed, whereby the woman was perpetually exiled, the Servant hanged\non a Gallowes, and the Physitian had the Crownes, which was prepared to\nbuy the poyson. Behold how the fortune of the old man was changed, who\nthinking to be deprived of all his race and posterity, was in one moment\nmade the Father of two Children. But as for me, I was ruled and handled\nby fortune, according to her pleasure.\n\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\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 businesse\nended, they would bring many good morsels into their Chamber for\nthemselves. One would bring Pigs, Chickens, fish, and other good meates,\nthe other fine bread, pasties, tarts, custards and other delicate\nJunkets dipped in hony. And when they had shut their chamber doore, and\nwent to the bains: (O Lord) how I would fill my guts with these goodly\ndishes: neither was I so much a foole, or so very an Asse, to leave\nthe dainty meats, and to grind my teeth upon hard hay. In this sort\nI continued a great space, for I played the honest Asse, taking but a\nlittle of one dish, and a little of another, wherby no man distrusted\nme. In the end, I was more hardier and began to devoure the whole messes\nof the sweet delicates, which caused the Baker and the Cooke to suspect,\nhowbeit they nothing mistrusted me, but searched about to apprehend the\ntheefe. At length they began to accuse one another of theft, and to set\nthe dishes and morsels of meat in order, one by another, because they\nwould learne what was taken away, whereby one of them was compelled to\nsay thus to his fellow: Is it reason to breake promise and faith in\nthis sort, by stealing away the best meat, and to sell it to augment\nthy good, and yet neverthelesse to have thy part in the residue that\nis left: if our partnership doe mislike thee, we will be partners and\nbrothers in other things, but in this we will breake of: for I perceive\nthat the great losse which I sustain, will at length be a cause of great\ndiscord betweene us. Then answered the other, Verily I praise thy great\nconstancy and subtilnesse, in that (when thou hast secretly taken away\nthe meat) [thou] dost begin to complaine first, whereas I by long space\nof time have suffered thee, because I would not seeme to accuse my\nbrother of theft, but I am right glad in that wee are fallen into\ncommunication of the matter, least by our silence, like contention might\narise betweene us, as fortuned betweene Eteocles and his Brother. When\nthey had reasoned together in this sort, they swore both earnestly, that\nneither of them stale or tooke away any jote of the meate, wherefore\nthey concluded to search out the Theefe by all kind of meanes. For they\ncould not imagin or thinke, the Asse who stood alone there, would eate\nany such meates, neither could they thinke that Mice or Flyes, were so\nravenous, as to devouer whole dishes of meat, like the Birds Harpies\nwhich carried away the meates of Phineus the King of Archadia. In the\nMeane season while I was fed with dainty morsels, I gathered together my\nflesh, my skin waxed soft, my haire began to shine, and was gallant on\nevery part, but such faire and comely shape of my body, was cause of\nmy dishonour, for the Baker and Cooke marvelled to see me so slick and\nfine, considering I did eate no hay at all. Wherefore on a time at their\naccustomed houre, they went to the baines, and locked their chamber\ndoore. It fortuned that ere they departed away, they espyed me through\na hole, how I fell roundly to my victuals: then they marvelled greatly,\nand little esteemed the losse of their meate, laughed exceedingly,\ncalling the servants of the house, to shew them the greedy gorge and\nappetite of the Asse. Their laughing was so immoderate that the master\nof the house heard them, and demanded the cause of their laughter,\nand when hee understood all the matter, hee looked through the hole\nlikewise, wherewith he took such a delectation that hee commanded the\ndoore to be opened, that hee might see mee at his pleasure. Then I\nperceiving every man laugh, was nothing abashed, but rather more bold,\nwhereby I never rested eating, till such time as the master of the\nhouse commanded me to be brought into his parler as a novelty, and there\ncaused all kinds of meates which were never touched to be set on the\ntable, which (although I had eaten sufficiently before, yet to win the\nfurther favour of the master of the house) I did greedily devoure and\nmade a cleane riddance of all the delicate meates. And to prove my\nnature wholly, they gave met such meates as every Asse doth abhorre:\nfor they put before mee beefe and vinegar, birds and pepper, fish and\nverjuice: in the meane season they that beheld met at the table did\nnothing but laugh. Then one of the servants of the house sayd to his\nmaster, I pray you sir give him some drinke to his supper: Marry (quoth\nhee) I thinke thou saist true, for it may be, that to his meate hee\nwould drinke likewise a cup of wine. Hoe boy, wash yonder pot, and fill\nit with wine, which done, carry it to the Asse, and say that I have\ndrunke to him. Then all the standers by looked on, to see what would\ncome to passe: 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 lacke\nnothing, who obeied his masters commandement in every point: and to the\nend he would creepe further into his favour, he taught me a thousand\nqualities. First he instructed me to sit at the table upon my taile, and\nhow I should leape and dance, holding up my former feete: moreover hee\ntaught me how I should answer when any body spake unto me, with nodding\nmy head, which was a strange and marvailous thing, and if I did lacke\ndrinke, I should looke still upon the pot. All which things I did\nwillingly bring to passe, and obeyed his doctrine: howbeit, I could have\ndone all these things without his teaching, but I feared greatly lest in\nshewing my selfe cunning without a master, I should pretend some great\nand strange wonder, and thereby be throwne out to wild beasts. But my\nfame was spred about in every place, and the qualities which I could\ndoe, insomuch that my master was renowned throughout all the Country by\nreason of mee. For every man would say: Behold the Gentleman that\nhath an Asse, that will eate and drinke with him, that will dance, and\nunderstand what is said to him, will shew his fantasie by signes. But\nfirst I will tell you (which I should have done before) who my master\nwas, and of what country. His name was Thiasus, hee was borne at\nCorinth, which is a principall towne of Achaia, and he had passed many\noffices of honor, till hee had taken upon him the degree Quinquenuall,\naccording as his birth and dignity required, who to shew his\nworthinesse, and to purchase the benevolence of every person, appointed\npublike joyes and triumphs, to endure the space of three dayes, and to\nbring his endeavour to passe, he came into Thessaly to buy excellent\nBeasts, 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\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\nbe most 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\nhe did 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\nat Corinth, 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 the\nAssembly a noble and rich Matron that conceived much delight to behold\nme, and could find no remedy to her passions and disordinate appetite,\nbut continually desired to have her pleasure with me, as Pasiphae had\nwith a Bull. In the end she promised a great reward to my keeper for the\ncustody of me one night, who for gaine of a little money accorded to her\ndesire, and when I had supped in a Parler with my Master, we departed\naway and went into our Chamber, where we found the faire Matron, who had\ntarried a great space for our comming: I am not able to recite unto you\nhow all things were prepared: there were foure Eunuches that lay on a\nbed of downe on the ground with Boulsters accordingly for us to lye on,\nthe Coverlet was of cloth of Gold, and the pillowes soft and tender,\nwhereon the delicate Matron had accustomed to lay her head. Then the\nEunuches not minding to delay any longer the pleasure of their Mistresse\nclosed the doores of the Chamber and departed away: within the Chamber\nwere Lamps that gave a cleare light all the place over: Then she put off\nall her Garments to her naked skinne, and taking the Lampe that\nstood next to her, began to annoint all her body with balme, and mine\nlikewise, but especially my nose, which done, she kissed me, not as they\naccustome to doe at the stews, or in brothel houses, or in the Curtain\nSchools for gaine of money, but purely, sincerely, and with great\naffection, casting out these and like loving words: Thou art he whom I\nlove, thou art he whom I onely desire, without thee I cannot live, and\nother like preamble of talke as women can use well enough, when as they\nmind to shew or declare their burning passions and great affection of\nlove: Then she tooke me by the halter and cast me downe upon the\nbed, which was nothing strange unto me, considering that she was so\nbeautifull a Matron and I so wel bolded out with wine, and perfumed\nwith balme, whereby I was readily prepared for the purpose: But nothing\ngrieved me so much as to think, how I should with my huge and great legs\nimbrace so faire a Matron, or how I should touch her fine, dainty, and\nsilken skinne, with my hard hoofes, or how it was possible to kisse her\nsoft, pretty and ruddy lips, with my monstrous mouth and stony teeth, or\nhow she, 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, I\nshould be throwne to the wild Beasts: But in the meane season she kissed\nme, and looked in my mouth with burning eyes, saying: I hold thee my\ncanny, I hold thee my noose, my sparrow, and therewithall she eftsoones\nimbraced my body round about, and had her pleasure with me, whereby I\nthought the mother of Miniatures did not ceaseless quench her inordinate\ndesire with a Bull. When night was passed, with much joy and small\nsleepe, the Matron went before day to my keeper to bargain with him\nanother night, which he willingly granted, partly for gaine of money,\nand partly to finde new pastime for my master. Who after he was informed\nof all the history of my luxury, was right glad, and rewarded my keeper\nwell for his paine, minding to shew before the face of all the people,\nwhat I could doe: but because they would not suffer the Matron to abide\nsuch shame, by reason of her dignity, and because they could finde no\nother that would endeavour so great a reproach, at length they obtained\nfor money a poore woman, which was condemned to be eaten of wilde\nbeasts, with whom I should openly have to doe: But first I will tell you\nwhat tale I heard concerning this woman. This woman had a husband, whose\nfather minding to ride forth, commanded his wife which he left at home\ngreat with child, that if she were delivered of a daughter, it should\nincontinently be killed. When the time of her delivery came, it fortuned\nthat she had a daughter, whom she would not suffer to be slaine, by\nreason of the naturall affection which she have unto her child, but\nsecretly committed her to one of her neighbours to nurse. And when her\nhusband returned home, shee declared unto him that shee was delivered of\na daughter, whom (as hee commanded), shee had caused to be put to death.\nBut when this child came to age, and ready to be married, the mother\nknew not by what meanes shee should endow her daughter, but that her\nhusband should understand and perceive it. Wherefore shee discovered the\nmatter to her sonne, who was the husband of this woman, condemned to be\neaten of wild beasts: For shee greatly feared least hee should unawares\nfancie or fall in love with his owne sister. The young man understanding\nthe whole matter (to please and gratify his mother) went immediately to\nthe young maiden, keeping the matter secret in his heart, for feare of\ninconvenience, and (lamenting to see his sister forsaken both of mother\nand father) incontinently after endowed her with part of his owne goods,\nand would have married her to one of his especial and trusty friends:\nBut although hee brought this to passe very secretly and sagely, yet in\nthe end cruell fortune sowed great sedition in his house. For his wife\nwho was now condemned to beasts, waxed jealous of her husband and began\nto suspect the young woman as a harlot and common queane, insomuch that\nshee invented all manner of meanes to dispatch her out of the way. And\nin the end shee invented this kind of mischiefe: She privily stale away\nher husbands ring, and went into the country, whereas she commanded one\nof her trusty servants to take the ring and carry it to the mayden. To\nwhom he should declare that her brother did pray her to come into the\ncountry to him, and that she should come alone without any person.\nAnd to the end shee should not delay but come with all speed he should\ndeliver her the ring, which should be a sufficient testimony of the\nmessage. This mayden as soone as she had received the ring of her\nbrother, being very willing and desirous to obey his commandement: (For\nshe knew no otherwise but that he had sent for her) went in all hast as\nthe messenger 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 bitter\nanguish, that he fell into the burning passions of a dangerous ague,\nwhereby he seemed in such necessity, that he needed to have some speedy\nremedy to save his life. The woman that slew the Maiden having lost the\nname of wife together with her faith, went to a traiterous Physician,\nwho had killed a great many persons in his dayes and promised him\nfifty peeces of Gold, if he would give her a present poyson to kill her\nhusband out of hand, but in presence of her Husband, she feined that\nit was necessary for him to receive a certaine kind of drink, which\nthe Maisters and Doctours of Physicke doe call a sacred Potion, to the\nintent he might purge Choller and scoure the interiour parts of his\nbody. But the Physitian in stead of that drinke prepared a mortall and\ndeadly poyson, and when he had tempered it accordingly, he tooke the pot\nin the presence of the family, and other neighbours and friends of the\nsick yong man, and offered it to his patient. But the bold and hardy\nwoman, to the end she might accomplish her wicked intent, and also gaine\nthe money which she had promised the Physitian, staid the pot with her\nhand, saying: I pray you master Physitian, minister not this drinke unto\nmy deare Husband, untill such time as you have drunke some part thereof\nyour selfe: For what know I, whether you have mingled any poyson in the\ndrinke or no, wherein I would have you not to be offended: For I know\nthat you are a man of wisedome and learning, but this I do to the intent\nthe conscience and love that I beare to the health and safeguard of my\nhusband, may be apparent. The Physitian being greatly troubled at the\nwickednesse of this mischievous woman, as voyd of all counsell and\nleysure to consider of the matter, and least he might give any cause\nof suspition to the standers by, or shew any scruple of his guilty\nconscience, by reason of long delay, tooke the pot in his hand, and\npresently drunke a good draught thereof, which done, the young man\nhaving no mistrust, drunke up the residue. The Physitian would have gone\nimmediately home to receive a counterpoyson, to expeth and drive out the\nfirst poyson: But the wicked woman persevering in her mischiefe, would\nnot suffer him to depart a foot, untill such time as the poyson began to\nworke in him, and then by much prayer and intercession she licensed him\nto goe home: By the way the poyson invaded the intrailes and bowels of\nthe whole body of the Physitian, in such sort that with great paine he\ncame to his owne house, where he had scarce time to speake to his wife,\nand to will her to receive the promised salitary of the death of two\npersons, but he yeelded up the ghost: And the other young man lived not\nlong after, but likewise dyed, amongst the feined and deceitfull teares\nof his cursed wife. A few dayes after, when the young man was buried and\nthe funerall ended, the Physitians wife demanded of her the fifty peeces\nof gold which she promised her husband for the drinke, whereat the ill\ndisposed woman, with resemblance of honesty, answered her with gentle\nwords, and promised to give her the fifty peeces of gold, if she would\nfetch her a little of that same drinke, to proceed and make an end of\nall her enterprise. The Physitians wife partly to winne the further\nfavour of this rich woman, and partly to gaine the money, ranne\nincontinently home, and brought her a whole roote of poyson, which\nwhen she saw, having now occasion to execute her further malice, and\nto finish the damnable plot, began to stretch out her bloody hands\nto murther. She had a daughter by her husband (that was poysoned) who\naccording to order of law, was appointed heire of all the lands and\ngoods of her father: but this woman knowing that the mothers succoured\ntheir children, and received all their goods after their death, purposed\nto shew her selfe a like parent to her child, as she was a wife to\nher husband, 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,\nran forthwith 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 eaten\nwith wild beasts. Behold with this woman was I appointed to have to doe\nbefore the face of the people, but I being wrapped in great anguish, and\nenvying the day of the triumph, when we two should so abandon our selves\ntogether, devised rather to sley my selfe, then to pollute my body with\nthis mischievous harlot, and so for ever to remaine defamed: but it was\nimpossible for me so to doe, considering that I lacked hands, and was\nnot able to hold a knife in my hoofes: howbeit standing in a pretty\ncabin, I rejoyced in my selfe to see that spring time was come, and that\nall things flourished, and that I was in good hope to find some Roses,\nto render me my humane shape. When the day of triumph came, I was led\nwith great pompe and benevolence to the appointed place, where when I\nwas brought, I first saw the preamble of that triumph, dedicated with\ndancers and merry taunting jests, and in the meane season was placed\nbefore the gate of the Theater, whereas on the one side I saw the greene\nand fresh grasse growing before the entry thereof, whereon I greatly\ndesired to feed: on the other side I conceived a great delectation\nto see when the Theater gates were opened, how all things was finely\nprepared and set forth: For there I might see young children and\nmaidens in the flowre of their youth of excellent beauty, and attired\ngorgiously, dancing and mooved in comely order, according to the order\nof Grecia, for sometime they would dance in length, sometime round\ntogether, sometime divide themselves into foure parts, and sometime\nloose hands on every side: but when the trumpet gave warning that every\nman should retire to his place, then began the triumph to appeare. First\nthere was a hill of wood, not much unlike that which the Poet Homer\ncalled Idea, for it was garnished about with all sort of greene verdures\nand lively trees, from the top whereof ran downe a cleare and fresh\nfountaine, nourishing the waters below, about which wood were many young\nand tender Goates, plucking and feeding daintily on the budding trees,\nthen came a young man a shepheard representing Paris, richly arrayed\nwith vestments of Barbary, having a mitre of gold upon his head, and\nseeming as though he kept the goates. After him ensued another young man\nall naked, saving that his left shoulder was covered with a rich cloake,\nand his head shining with glistering haires, and hanging downe, through\nwhich you might perceive two little wings, whereby you might conjecture\nthat he was Mercury, with his rod called Caduceus, he bare in his right\nhand an Apple of gold, and with a seemely gate went towards him that\nrepresented Paris, and after hee had delivered him the Apple, he made a\nsigne, signifying that Jupiter had commanded him so to doe: when he had\ndone his message he departed away. And by and by, there approached a\nfaire and comely mayden, not much unlike to Juno, for she had a Diademe\nof gold upon her head, and in her hand she bare a regall scepter: then\nfollowed another resembling Pallas, for she had on her head a shining\nsallet, whereon was bound a garland of Olive branches, having in one\nhand a target or shield: and in the other a speare as though she would\nfight: then came another which passed the other in beauty, and presented\nthe Goddesse Venus, with the color of Ambrosia, when she was a maiden,\nand to the end she would shew her perfect beauty, shee appeared all\nnaked, saving that her fine and dainty skin was covered with a thin\nsmocke, which the wind blew hither and thither to testifie the youth and\nflowre of the age of the dame. Her colour was of two sorts, for her\nbody was white as descended from heaven, and her smocke was blewish,\nas arrived from the sea: After every one of the Virgins which seemed\ngoddesses, followed certaine waiting servants, Castor and Pollus went\nbehind Juno, having on their heads helmets covered with starres. This\nVirgin Juno sounded a Flute, which shee bare in her hand, and mooved her\nselfe towards the shepheard Paris, shewing by honest signes and tokens,\nand promising that hee should be Lord of all Asia, if hee would judge\nher the fairest of the three, and to give her the apple of gold: the\nother maiden which seemed by her armour to be Pallas, was accompanied\nwith two young men armed, and brandishing their naked swords in their\nhands, whereof one named Terror, and the other Feare; behind them\napproached one sounding his trumpet to provoke and stirre men to\nbattell; this maiden began to dance and shake her head, throwing her\nfierce and terrible eyes upon Paris and promising that if it pleased him\nto give her the victory of beauty, shee would make him the most strong\nand victorious man alive. Then came Venus and presented her selfe in the\nmiddle of the Theater, with much favour of all the people, for shee was\naccompanied with a great many of youth, whereby you would have judged\nthem all to be Cupidoes, either to have flowne from heaven or else from\nthe river of the sea, for they had wings, arrowes, and the residue\nof their habit according in each point, and they bare in their hands\ntorches lighted, as though it had beene a day of marriage. Then came in\na great multitude 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. For\nsometimes she would winke gently, sometimes threaten and looke aspishly,\nand sometimes dance onely with her eyes: As soone as she was come before\nthe Judge, she made a signe and token to give him the most fairest\nspouse of all the world, if he would prefer her above the residue of the\ngoddesses. Then the young Phrygian shepheard Paris with a willing mind\ndelivered the golden Apple to Venus, which was the victory 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 pleasure,\nwhich was the cause afterward of the ruine of all his progeny? By like\nmanner of meane, was sentence given between the noble Greekes: For the\nnoble and valiant personage Palamedes was convicted and attainted of\ntreason, by false perswasion and accusation, and Ulisses being but of\nbase condition, was preferred in Martiall prowesse above great Ajax.\nWhat judgement was there likewise amongst the Athenian lawyers, sage and\nexpert in all sciences? Was not Socrates who was preferred by Apollo,\nabove all the wise men in the world, by envy and malice of wicked\npersons impoysoned with the herbe Cicuta, as one that corrupted the\nyouth of the countrey, whom alwaies be kept under by correction? For we\nsee now a dayes many excellent Philosophers greatly desire to follow his\nsect, and by perpetual study to value and revolve his workes, but to\nthe end I may not be reproved of indignation by any one that might say:\nWhat, shall we suffer an Asse to play the Philosopher? I will returne to\nmy 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, danced\nabout the Theater with much joy. This done from the top of the hill\nthrough a privy spout, ran a floud of the colour of Saffron, which fell\nupon the Goates, and changed their white haire into yellow, with a sweet\nodour to all them of the Theater. By and by after by certaine engines,\nthe ground opened, and swallowed up the hill of wood: and then behold\nthere came a man of armes through the multitude, demanding by the\nconsent of the people, the woman who was condemned to the beasts, and\nappointed for me to have to doe withall: our bed was finely and bravely\nprepared, and covered with silke and other things necessary. But I,\nbeside the shame to commit this horrible fact, and to pollute my body\nwith this wicked harlot did greatly feare the danger of death: for I\nthought in my selfe, that when she and I were together, the savage beast\nappointed to devoure the woman, was not so instructed and taught, or\nwould 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 the\nshame that I should abide, but in the meane season while my master made\nready the bed, all the residue did greatly delight to see the hunting\nand pleasantnesse of the triumph, I began to thinke and devise for my\nselfe. When I perceived that no man had regard to mee, that was so tame\nand gentle an Asse, I stole out of the gate that was next me, and then I\nran away with all force, and came to Cenchris, which is the most famous\ntowne of all the Carthaginians, bordering upon the Seas called Ageum,\nand Saronicum, where is a great and mighty Haven, frequented with many a\nsundry Nation. There because I would avoyd the multitude of the people,\nI went to a secret place of the Sea coast, where I laid me down upon the\nsand, to ease and refresh my selfe, for the day was past and the Sunne\ngone downe, and lying in this sort on the ground, did fall in a sound\nsleepe.\n\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\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 the\nfull, and seeming as though she leaped out of the Sea. Then thought I\nwith 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\ntame, but also all wild and savage beasts be under her protection. And\nconsidering that all bodies in the heavens, the earth and the seas,\nbe by her increasing motions increased, and by her diminishing motions\ndiminished: as weary of all my cruell fortune and calamity, I found good\nhope and soveraigne remedy, though it were very late, to be delivered\nfrom all my misery, by invocation and prayer, to the excellent beauty of\nthe Goddesse, whom I saw shining before mine eyes, wherefore shaking off\nmine Assie and drowsie sleepe, I arose with a joyfull face, and mooved\nby a great affection to purifie my selfe, I plunged my selfe seven times\ninto the water of the Sea, which number of seven is conveniable and\nagreeable to holy and divine things, as the worthy and sage Philosopher\nPythagoras hath declared. Then with a weeping countenance, I made this\nOrison to the puissant Goddesse, saying: O blessed Queene of heaven,\nwhether thou be the Dame Ceres which art the originall and motherly\nnource of all fruitfull things in earth, who after the finding of thy\ndaughter Proserpina, through the great joy which thou diddest presently\nconceive, madest barraine and unfruitfull ground to be plowed and sowne,\nand now thou inhabitest in the land of Eleusie; or whether thou be\nthe celestiall Venus, who in the beginning of the world diddest couple\ntogether all kind of things with an ingendered love, by an eternall\npropagation of humane kind, art now worshipped within the Temples of the\nIle Paphos, thou which art the sister of the God Phoebus, who nourishest\nso many people by the generation of beasts, and art now adored at the\nsacred places of Ephesus, thou which art horrible Proserpina, by reason\nof the deadly howlings which thou yeeldest, that hast power to stoppe\nand put away the invasion of the hags and Ghoasts which appeare unto\nmen, and to keepe them downe in the closures of the earth: thou which\nart worshipped in divers manners, and doest illuminate all the borders\nof the 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\nlong time pursued me. Grant peace and rest if it please thee to my\nadversities, for I have endured too much labour and perill. Remoove from\nme my shape of mine Asse, and render to me my pristine estate, and if\nI have offended in any point of divine Majesty, let me rather dye then\nlive, for I am full weary of my life. When I had ended this orison, and\ndiscovered my plaints to the Goddesse, I fortuned to fall asleepe, and\nby and by appeared unto me a divine and venerable face, worshipped even\nof the Gods themselves. Then by little and little I seemed to see the\nwhole figure of her body, mounting out of the sea and standing before\nmee, wherefore I purpose to describe her divine semblance, if the\npoverty of my humane speech will suffer me, or her divine power give me\neloquence thereto. First shee had a great abundance of haire, dispersed\nand scattered about her neck, on the crowne of her head she bare many\ngarlands enterlaced with floures, in the middle of her forehead was a\ncompasse in fashion of a glasse, or resembling the light of the Moone,\nin one of her hands she bare serpents, in the other, blades of corne,\nher vestiment was of fine silke yeelding divers colours, sometime\nyellow, sometime rosie, sometime flamy, and sometime (which troubled my\nspirit sore) darke and obscure, covered with a blacke robe in manner\nof a shield, and pleated in most subtill fashion at the skirts of her\ngarments, the welts appeared comely, whereas here and there the starres\nglimpsed, and in the middle of them was placed the Moone, which shone\nlike a flame of fire, round about the robe was a coronet or garland\nmade with flowers and fruits. In her right hand shee had a timbrell of\nbrasse, which gave a pleasant sound, in her left hand shee bare a cup\nof gold, out of the mouth whereof the serpent Aspis lifted up his head,\nwith a swelling throat, her odoriferous feete were covered with shoes\ninterlaced and wrought with victorious palme. Thus the divine shape\nbreathing out the pleasant spice of fertill Arabia, disdained not with\nher divine voyce to utter these words unto me: Behold Lucius I am come,\nthy weeping and prayers hath mooved mee to succour thee. I am she that\nis the naturall mother of all things, mistresse and governesse of all\nthe Elements, the initiall progeny of worlds, chiefe of powers divine,\nQueene of heaven! the principall of the Gods celestiall, the light of\nthe goddesses: at my will the planets of the ayre, the wholesome winds\nof the Seas, and the silences of hell be diposed; my name, my divinity\nis adored throughout all the world in divers manners, in variable\ncustomes and in many names, for the Phrygians call me the mother of the\nGods: the Athenians, Minerva: the Cyprians, Venus: the Candians,\nDiana: the Sicilians Proserpina: the Eleusians, Ceres: some Juno, other\nBellona, other Hecate: and principally the Aethiopians which dwell\nin the Orient, and the Aegyptians which are excellent in all kind of\nancient doctrine, and by their proper ceremonies accustome to worship\nmee, doe call mee Queene Isis. Behold I am come to take pitty of thy\nfortune and tribulation, behold I am present to favour and ayd thee,\nleave off thy weeping and lamentation, put away all thy sorrow, for\nbehold the healthfull day which is ordained by my providence, therefore\nbe ready to attend to my commandement. This day which shall come after\nthis night, is dedicated to my service, by an eternall religion, my\nPriests and Ministers doe accustome after the tempests of the Sea,\nbe ceased, to offer in my name a new ship as a first fruit of my\nNavigation. I command thee not to prophane or despise the sacrifice\nin any wise, for the great Priest shall carry this day following in\nprocession by my exhortation, a Garland of Roses, next the timbrell of\nhis right hand: follow thou my procession amongst the people, and when\nthou commest to the Priest make as though thou wouldest kisse his hand,\nbut snatch at the Roses, whereby I will put away the skin and shape of\nan Asse, which kind of beast I have long time abhorred and despised, but\nabove all things beware thou doubt not nor feare any of those things, as\nhard and difficill to bee brought to passe, for in the same houre that\nI am come to thee, I have commanded the Priest by a vision what he shall\ndoe, and all the people by my commandement shall be compelled to give\nthee place and say nothing! Moreover, thinke not that amongst so faire\nand joyfull Ceremonies, and in so good a company that any person shall\nabhorre thy ill-favoured and deformed figure, or that any man shall be\nso hardy, as to blame and reprove thy suddaine restoration to humane\nshape, wherby they should gather or conceive any sinister opinion: and\nknow thou this of certaine, that the residue of thy life untill the\nhoure of death shall be bound and subject to me! And think it not an\ninjury to be alwayes serviceable towards me, since as by my meane and\nbenefit thou shalt become a man: thou shalt live blessed in this world,\nthou shalt live glorious by my guide and protection, and when thou\ndescendest to Hell, where thou shalt see me shine in that subterene\nplace, shining (as thou seest me now) in the darkness of Acheron, and\nraigning in the deepe profundity of Stix, thou shalt worship me, as\none that hath bin favourable to thee, and if I perceive that thou art\nobedient to my commandement, addict to my religion, and merite my divine\ngrace, know thou, that I will prolong thy dales above the time that the\nfates have appointed, 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 after,\nthe darknes chased away, and the cleare and golden sunne arose, when as\nbehold I saw the streets replenished with people going in a religious\nsort and in great triumph. All things seemed that day to be joyfull,\nas well all manner of beasts and houses, as also the very day it selfe\nseemed to rejoyce. For after the hore-frost, ensued the hot and temperat\nsun, whereby the little birds weening that the spring time had bin come,\ndid chirp and sing in their steven melodiously: the mother of stars,\nthe parent of times, and mistres of all the world: The fruitfull trees\nrejoyced at their fertility: The barren and sterill were contented at\ntheir shadow, rendering sweete and pleasant shrills! The seas were quiet\nfrom winds and tempests: the heaven had chaced away the clouds, and\nappeared faire and cleare with his proper light. Behold then more and\nmore appeared the pomps and processions, attired in regall manner and\nsinging joyfully: One was girded about the middle like a man of armes:\nAnother bare and spare, and had a cloake and high-shooes like a hunter!\nanother was attired in a robe of silke, and socks of gold, having his\nhaire laid out, and dressed in forme of a woman! There was another ware\nlegge-harnesse, and bare a target, a sallet, and a speare like a martial\nsouldier: after him marched one attired in purple with vergers before\nhim like a magistrate! after him followed one with a maurell, a staffe,\na paire of pantofles, and with a gray beard, signifying a philosopher:\nafter him went one with line, betokening a fowler, another with hookes\ndeclaring a fisher: I saw there a meeke and tame beare, which in matron\nhabite was carried on a stoole: An Ape with a bonet on his head, and\ncovered with lawne, resemling a shepheard, and bearing a cup of gold in\nhis hand: an Asse which had wings glewed to his backe, and went after\nan old man, whereby you would judge the one to be Pegasus, and the\nother Bellephoron. Amongst the pleasures and popular delectations, which\nwandered hither and thither, you might see the pompe of the goddesse\ntriumphantly march forward: The woman attired in white vestiments, and\nrejoicing, in that they bare garlands and flowers upon their heads,\nbedspread the waies with hearbes, which they bare in their aprons, where\nthis regall and devout procession should passe: Other caried glasses\non their backes, to testifie obeisance to the goddess which came after.\nOther bare combs of Ivory, and declared by their gesture and motions of\ntheir armes, that they were ordained and readie to dresse the goddesse:\nOthers dropped in the wayes as they went Balme and other pretious\nointments: Then came a great number, as well of men as women, with\nCandels, torches, and other lights, doing honour to the celestiall\ngoddesse: After that sounded the musical harmony of instruments: then\ncame a faire companie of youth, apparelled in white vestiments, singing\nboth meter and verse, with a comely grade which some studious Poet had\nmade in honour of the Muses: In the meane season, arrived the blowers\nof trumpets, 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\nthe men 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 hike the other bare\nin his 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 equitie\nthen by the right hand. The same Priest carried a round vessell of gold,\nin forme of a cap. The fifth bare a van, wrought with springs of gold,\nand another carried a vessell for wine: By and by after the goddesse\nfollowed a foot as men do, and specially Mercurie, the messenger of\nthe goddesse infernall and supernall, with his face sometime blacke,\nsometime faire, lifting up the head of the dogges Annubis, and bearing\nin his left hand, his verge, and in his right hand, the branches of a\npalme tree, after whom followed a cow with an upright gate, representing\nthe figure of the great goddesse, and he that guided her, marched on\nwith much gravity. Another carried after the secrets of their religion,\nclosed in a coffer. There was one that bare on his stomacke a figure of\nhis god, not formed like any beast, bird, savage thing or humane shape,\nbut made by a new invention, whereby was signified that such a religion\nshould not be discovered or revealed to any person. There was a vessel\nwrought with a round bottome, haveing on the one side, pictures figured\nlike unto the manner of the Egyptians, and on the other side was an\neare, whereupon stood the Serpent Aspis, holding out his scaly necke.\nFinally, came he which was appointed to my good fortun according to the\npromise of the goddesse. For the great Priest which bare the restoration\nof my human shape, by the commandement of the goddes, Approached more\nand more, bearing in his left hand the timbrill, and in the other a\ngarland of Roses to give me, to the end I might be delivered from cruel\nfortune, which was alwaies mine enemie, after the sufferance of so much\ncalamitie and paine, and after the endurance of so manie perilles:\nThen I 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 eares\nwere made little, my great and stonie teeth waxed lesse like the teeth\nof men, and my tayle which combred me most, appeared no where: then the\npeople began to marvaile, and the religious honoured the goddesse, for\nso evident a miracle, they wondered at the visions which they saw in\nthe night, and the facilitie of my reformation, whereby they rendered\ntestimonie of so great a benefit which I received of the goddesse.\nWhen I saw my selfe in such estate, I stood still a good space and said\nnothing, for I could not tell what to say, nor what word I shoulde first\nspeake, nor what thanks I should render to the goddesse, but the\ngreat Priest understanding all my fortune and miserie, by divine\nadvertisement, commanded that one should give me garments to cover me:\nHowbeit as soone as I was transformed from an asse to my humane shape,\nI hid the privitie of my body with my hands as shame and necessity\ncompelled mee. Then one of the company put off his upper robe and put\nit on my backe: which done, the Priest looked upon me, with a sweete\nand benigne voice, gan say in this sort: O my friend Lucius, after the\nendurance of so many labours, and the escape of so many tempests of\nfortune, thou art at length come to the port and haven of rest and\nmercy: neither did thy noble linage, thy dignity, thy doctrine, or any\nthing prevaile, but that thou hast endured so many servil pleasures,\nby a little folly of thy youthfullnes, whereby thou hast had a sinister\nreward for thy unprosperous curiositie, but howsoever the blindnes of\nfortune tormented thee in divers dangers: so it is, that now unwares to\nher, thou art come to this present felicitie: let fortune go, and fume\nwith fury in another place, let her finde some other matter to execute\nher cruelty, for fortune hath no puissance against them which serve and\nhonour our goddesse. For what availed the theeves: the beasts savage:\nthy great servitude: the ill and dangerous waits: the long passages: the\nfeare of death every day? Know thou, that now thou art safe, and under\nthe protection of her, who by her cleare light doth lighten the other\ngods: wherefore rejoyce and take a convenable countenance to thy white\nhabit, follow the pomp of this devout and honorable procession, to the\nend that such which be not devout to the Goddes, may see and acknowledge\ntheir errour. Behold Lucius, thou art delivered from so great miseries,\nby the providence of the goddesse Isis, rejoyce therefore and triumph of\nthe victory of fortune; to the end thou maist live more safe and sure,\nmake thy selfe one of this holy order, dedicate thy minde to the Obsequy\nof our Religion, and take upon thee a a voluntary yoake of ministrie:\nAnd when thou beginnest to serve and honour the goddes, then thou\nshalt feele the fruit of thy liberty: After that the great Priest had\nprophesied in this manner, with often breathings, he made a conclusion\nof his words: Then I went amongst the company of die rest and followed\nthe procession: everie one of the people knew me, and pointing at\nme with their 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,\nthe mast 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 all\nthe people as well religious as prophane tooke a great number of Vannes,\nreplenished with odours and pleasant smells and threw them into the sea\nmingled with milke, untill the ship was filled up with large gifts and\nprosperous devotions, when as with a pleasant wind it launched out into\nthe deep. But when they had lost the sight of the ship, every man caried\nagaine that he brought, and went toward the temple in like pompe and\norder as they came to the sea side. When we were come to the temple, the\ngreat priest and those which were deputed to carrie the divine figures,\nbut especially those which had long time bin worshippers of the\nreligion, went into the secret chamber of the goddesse, where they put\nand placed the images according to their ordor. This done, one of the\ncompany which was a scribe or interpreter of letters, who in forme of a\npreacher stood up in a chaire before the place of the holy college, and\nbegan to reade out of a booke, and to interpret to the great prince, the\nsenate, and to all the noble order of chivalry, and generally to all\nthe Romane people, and to all such as be under the jurisdiction of Rome,\nthese words following (Laois Aphesus) which signified the end of their\ndivin service and that it was lawfull for every man to depart, whereat\nall the people gave a great showt, and replenished with much joy, bare\nall kind of hearbs and garlands of flowers home to their houses, kissing\nand imbracing the steps where the goddesse passed: howbeit I could not\ndoe as the rest, for my mind would not suffer me to depart one foot\naway, so attentiv was I to behold the beauty of the goddesse, with\nremembrance of the great 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 and\nin 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 with\ngreat 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 devout\nto the goddesse, and an inseparable worshipper of her divine name:\nIt fortuned that the goddesse appeared to me oftetimes in the night\nperswading and commanding me to take the order of her religion, but I,\nthough I was indued with a desirous good will, yet the feare of the\nsame withheld me considering her obeysance was hard and difficile, the\nchastitie of the Priests intolerable, and the life fraile and subject to\nmanie inconveniences. Being thus in doubt, I refrained my selfe from all\nthose 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 solempne\nsupplication. Then they began to sing the mattens of the morning,\ntestifying thereby the houre of the prime. By and by behold arived my\nservant which I had left in the country, when Fotis by errour made me\nan Asse, bringing with him my horse, recovered by her through certaine\nsignes and tokens which I had upon my backe. Then I perceived the\ninterpretation of my dreame, by reason that beside the promise of gaine,\nmy white horse was restored to me, which was signified by the argument\nof 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 and\nsacraments of the temple: insomuch that I oftentimes communed with the\nPriest, 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 the\ngoddesse, the Priest which should minister the sacrifice is chosen by\nher providence, and the necessary charges of the ceremonies is alotted\nby her commandement, all which things he willed me to attend with\nmarvailous 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 hasty:\nmoreover 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\nto damnation, 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 might\ncome more apt and cleane to the knowledge of the secrets of religion.\nThen 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\nwith figures of beasts declaring briefly every sentence, with tops\nand tailes, turning in fashion of a wheele, which were strange and\nimpossible to be read of the prophane people: There he interpreted to me\nsuch things as were necessary to the use and preparation of mine order.\nThis done, I gave charge to certaine of my companions to buy liberally,\nwhatsoever was needfull and convenient, then he brought me to the next\nbains accompanied with all the religious sort, and demanding pardon\nof the goddesse, washed me and purified my body, according to custome.\nAfter this, when noone approached, he brought me backe againe to the\ntemple, presented me before the face of the goddesse, giving a charge of\ncertaine secret things unlawfull to be uttered, and commanding me, and\ngenerally all the rest, to fast by the space of ten continuall daies,\nwithout eating of any beast, or drinking any wine, which thing I\nobserved with a marvellous continencie. Then behold the day approached,\nwhen as the sacrifice should be done, and when night came there arrived\non every coast, a great multitude of Priests, who according to their\norder offered me many presents and gifts: then was all the Laity and\nprophane people commanded to depart, and when they had put on my back a\nlinnen robe, they brought me to the most secret and sacred place of all\nthe temple. You would peradventure demand (you studious reader) what was\nsaid and done there, verely I would tell you if it were lawfull for me\nto tell, you should know if it were convenient for you to heare,\nbut both thy eares, and my tongue shall incur the like paine of rash\ncuriositie: Howbeit, I will content thy mind for this present time,\nwhich peradventure is somewhat religious and given to some devotion,\nlisten therefore and beleeve it to be true: Thou shalt understand that\nI approached neere unto Hell, even to the gates of Proserpina, and after\nthat, I was ravished throughout all the Element, I returned to my proper\nplace: About midnight I saw the Sun shine, I saw likewise the gods\ncelestiall and gods infernall, before whom I presented my selfe, and\nworshipped them: Behold now have I told thee, which although thou hast\nheard, yet it is necessarie thou conceale it; this have I declared\nwithout offence, for the 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 goddesse;\nmy vestiment was of fine linnen, covered and embroidered with flowers.\nI had a pretious Cope upon my shoulders hanging downe to the ground,\nwhereon were beasts wrought of divers colours as Indian dragons, and\nHiperborian Griphons, whom in forme of birds, the other world doth\ningender; the Priests commonly call such a habit, a celestiall Stole: in\nmy right hand I carried a light torch, and a garland of flowers upon my\nhead, with Palme leaves sprouting out on every side: I was adorned like\nunto the Sun, and made in fashion of an Image, in such sort that all the\npeople compassed about to behold me: then they began to solemnize the\nfeast of the nativitie, and the new procession with sumptuous bankets\nand delicate meates: the third day was likewise celebrated with like\nceremonies with a religious dinner, and with all the consummation of the\norder: when I had continued there a good space, I conceived a marvailous\ngreat pleasure and consolation in beholding ordinarily the Image of the\ngoddesse, who at length admonished me to depart homeward, not without\nrendring of thanks, which although it were not sufficient, yet they were\naccording to my power. Howbeit I could unneth be perswaded to depart,\nbefore I had fallen prostrate before the face of the goddesse, and wiped\nher steps with my face, whereby I began so greatly to weepe and sigh\nthat my words were interrupted, and as devouring my prayer, I began to\nsay in this sort: O holy and blessed dame, the perpetuall comfort of\nhumane kind, who by thy bounty and grace nourishest all the world, and\nhearest a great affection to the adversities of the miserable, as a\nloving mother thou takest no rest, neither art thou idle at any time in\ngiving thy benefits, and succoring all men, as well on land as sea; thou\nart she that puttest away all stormes and dangers from mans life by thy\nright hand, 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\nsea, do tremble at thy majesty, but my spirit is not able to give thee\nsufficient praise, my patrimonie is unable to satisfie thy sacrifice, my\nvoice hath no power to utter that which I thinke, no if I had a thousand\nmouths and so many tongues: Howbeit as a good religious person, and\naccording to my estate, I will alwaies keepe thee in remembrance and\nclose thee within my breast. When I had ended mine orison, I went to\nembrace the great Priest Mythra my spirituall father, and to demand his\npardon, considering I was unable to recompence the good which he had\ndone to me: after great greeting and thanks I departed from him to visit\nmy parents and friends; and within a while after by the exhortation of\nthe goddesse. I made up my packet, and tooke shipping toward the Citie\nof Rome, where with a prosperous winde I arrived about the xii. day of\nDecember. And the greatest desire that I had there, was daily to make\nmy praiers to the soveraigne goddesse Isis, who by reason of the place\nwhere her temple was builded, was called Campensis, and continually\nadored of the people of Rome. Her minister and worshipper was I, howbeit\nI was a stranger to her Church, and 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 religion\nof great Osiris the soveraigne father of all the goddesses, between\nwhom, although there was a religious unitie and concord, yet there was\na great difference of order and ceremony. And because it was necessary\nthat I should likewise be a minister unto Osiris, there was no long\ndelay: for in the night after, appeared unto me one of that order,\ncovered with linnen robes, holding in his hands speares wrapped in Ivie,\nand other things not convenient to declare, which then he left in my\nchamber, and sitting in my seate, recited to me such things as were\nnecessary for the sumptuous banket of mine entrie. And to the end I\nmight know him againe, he shewed me how the ankle of his left foote was\nsomewhat 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 from\nmy transformation. By and by I went to him, which knew well enough all\nthe 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\na reward 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 comfort\nto my peregrination, and ministred unto me more plentifull living,\nconsidering I gained some money in haunting the court, by reason of my\nLatin 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 thee\nthree times, when as there was never yet any person that atchieved to\nthe order but once: wherefore thou maist thinke thy selfe happy for\nso great benefits. And know thou that the religion which thou must\nnow receive, 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 to\nthee.\n\nAfter this sort, the divine majesty perswaded me in my sleepe, whereupon\nby and by I went towards the Priest, and declared all that which I had\nseene, then I fasted ten dayes according to the custome, and of mine\nowne proper will I abstained longer then I was commanded: and verely I\ndid nothing repent of the paine which I had taken, and of the charges\nwhich I was at, considering that the divine providence had given me such\nan order, that I gained much money in pleading of causes: Finally after\na few dayes, the great god Osiris appeared to me in the night, not\ndisguised in any other forme, but in his owne essence, commanding me\nthat I should be an Advocate in the court, and not feare the slander and\nenvie of ill persons, which beare me stomacke and grudge by reason of my\ndoctrine, which I had gotten by much labour: moreover, he would not that\nI should be any longer of the number of his Priests, but he allotted me\nto be one of the Decurions and Senatours: and after he appointed me\na place within the ancient pallace, which was erected in the time of\nSilla, where I executed my office in great joy with a shaven Crowne."