BC 
 
 B9H
 
 MAKY Hi FSSELLPERKINS
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Mrs. M. Russell Perkins
 
 UCSB 
 
 
 .-
 
 THE TUDOR 
 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 W. E. HENLEY 
 IV
 
 THE GOLDEN ASS OF 
 
 APULEIUS 
 
 TRANSLATED OUT OF LATIN BY 
 
 WILLIAM ADLINGTON 
 
 ANNO 1566 
 
 With an Introduction by 
 CHARLES WHIBLEY 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Published by DAVID NUTT 
 IN THE STRAN D 
 
 1893
 
 Edinburgh : T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty
 
 TO 
 
 STEPHANE MALLARME 
 
 THIS METAMORPHOSIS OF 
 
 AN ANTIENT DECADENT
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 HE GOLDEN ASS of Apuleius is, so to Apuleius 
 say, a beginning of modern literature. 
 From this brilliant medley of reality and 
 romance, of wit and pathos, of fantasy 
 and observation, was born that new art, 
 complex in thought, various in expres- 
 sion, which gives a semblance of frigidity 
 to perfection itself. An indefatigable youthfulness is its 
 distinction. As it was fresh when Adlington translated it 
 ' out of Latine " three centuries since, so it is familiar to- 
 day, and is like to prove an influence to-morrow. Indeed, it 
 is among the marvels of history that an alien of twenty-five 
 and Apuleius was no more when he wrote his Meta- 
 morphoses should have revolutionised a language not his 
 own, and bequeathed us a freedom which, a thousand times 
 abused, has never since been taken away. 
 
 A barbarian born, a Greek by education, Apuleius only His Style 
 acquired the Latin tongue by painful effort. Now, a foreigner, 
 not prejudiced by an inveterate habit of speech, seldom 
 escapes a curiosity of phrase. Where the language is the 
 same, whether written or spoken, art is wont to lapse into 
 nature. But there was no reason why Apuleius, who could 
 b ix
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- not but be conscious of his diction, should ever deviate from 
 DUCTION artifice. His style, in truth, he put on as a garment, and it 
 fitted the matter without a crease. His exotic vocabulary 
 was the fruit of the widest research. He ransacked the 
 ancient plays for long-forgotten words. He cared not 
 where he picked up his neologisms, so they were dazzling and 
 bizarre. Greece, his own Carthage, the gutters of Rome, 
 contribute to the wealth of his diction, for he knew naught 
 of that pedantry which would cramp expression for authority's 
 sake. The literary use of slang was almost his own inven- 
 tion. He would twist the vulgar words of every day into 
 quaint, unheard-of meanings, nor did he ever deny shelter 
 to those loafers and footpads of speech which inspire the 
 grammarian with horror. On every page you encounter a 
 proverb, a catchword, a literary allusion, a flagrant redun- 
 dancy. One quality only was distasteful to him : the com- 
 monplace. He is ever the literary fop, conscious of his 
 trappings and assured of a handsome effect. In brief, he 
 belonged to the African School, for which elaboration was 
 the first and last law of taste. He may even have been a 
 pupil of Fronto, the prime champion of the elocutio novella, 
 the rhetorician who condemned Cicero in that he was not 
 scrupulous in his search for effect, and urged upon his pupils 
 the use of insperata atque inopinata verba. No wonder poor 
 Adlington, whose equipment of Latin was of the lightest, 
 hesitated for a while ! No wonder he complained that ' the 
 ' Author had written his work in so darke and high a stile, 
 ' in so strange and absurd words, and in such new invented 
 ' phrases, as hee seemed rather to set it forth to shew his 
 ' magnificencie of prose, than to participate his doings to
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 ' others' ! But the difficulty is not invincible; and the ad- IXTRO- 
 venturous have their reward. The prose sparkles with light DUCTION 
 and colour. Not a page but is rich inlaid with jewels of 
 fantastic speech. For Apuleius realised centuries before 
 Baudelaire that a vocabulary is a palette, and he employed 
 his own with incomparable daring and extravagance. 
 
 Though his style be personal, the machinery of his story His Debt to 
 is frankly borrowed. The hero who, transformed by magic 
 to an ass, recovers human shape by eating roses was no new 
 invention. He had already supplied two writers with a 
 motive ; and the learned have not decided whether it was 
 from Lucian (so-called) or from Lucius of Patrae that 
 Apuleius got his inspiration. 1 But a comparison of the 
 Latin, version with its Greek forerunner, commonly attri- 
 buted to Lucian, proves the debt a feather's weight. 
 Whatever Apuleius conveyed, he so boldly changed and 
 elaborated, as to make the material his own. His method 
 is a miracle of simplicity. He accepts the Aou/ao? rj "Oi/o? 
 
 1 That the hero transformed to an ass was the motive of two Greek 
 romances can hardly be doubted after Photius' statement. The one, he says, 
 was the work of Lucius of Patrae (who wrote (jieTa./ju>p<f>(I)ffeuv \6-yoiis 5ia<opow), 
 the other the work of Lucian. The Aowctoj i) "Ovos, preserved in the works of 
 Lucian, is doubtless one of the romances known to Photius. But its style 
 and impartiality never for an instant suggest Lucian, who would have made 
 the metamorphosis a peg for satire. And modern scholars are for the most 
 part agreed that Lucian was not the author. Other considerations prevent 
 our assigning it to Lucius, who, it is said, ran to a greater length, and it 
 would be difficult to set forth the story in briefer terms than are employed 
 by the author of AOWCIOJ T) "Ovot. Probably it is the work of neither, though 
 it may well be the romance attributed to Lucian by Photius. The only sure 
 fact is that in the Aotxios r) "Ooy are to be found the dry bones of The 
 Golden Ass. The curious may consult Professor Rohde's Ueber Luciarfs 
 Schrift Aotf/rtoj -i) "O^os und ihr Verhaeltniss zu Lucius von Patrae und den 
 Metamorphosen des Apuleius. 
 
 xi
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- as a framework, sometimes following it word for word, yet 
 DUCTION decorating it with so lavish an array of phrases, tricking it 
 out with episodes so fertile and ingenious, as to force you to 
 forget the original in the copy. Only in a single incident 
 does his fancy lag behind. His hero's interview with the 
 serving-maid is chastened and curtailed. The professionally 
 elaborate detail, wherewith Lucian enhances this famous 
 episode, is touched by Apuleius with a light and summary 
 hand. But elsewhere he appropriates to adorn. Though 
 again and again the transference is verbal, the added orna- 
 ment is entirely characteristic, and it is as unjust to charge 
 the author with plagiarism as it were to condemn the Greek 
 tragedians for their treatment of familiar themes. Indeed 
 the two writers approach the matter from opposite points 
 of view. Lucian's austere concision is purely classical. He 
 has a certain story to present, and he reaches the climax by 
 the shortest possible route. The progress is interrupted 
 neither by phrase nor interlude, and at the end you chiefly 
 admire the cold elegance, wherewith the misfortunes of 
 Lucius are expressed, so to say, in their lowest terms. 
 Apuleius, on the other hand, is unrestrainedly romantic. He 
 cares not how he loiters by the way ; he is always ready 
 The Sermo to beguile his reader with a Milesian story one of those 
 Milesius q ua int and witty interludes, which have travelled the world 
 over, and become part, not merely of every literature, but of 
 every life. Our new fashion of analysis, our ineradicable 
 modesty, have at last denied them literary expression, and 
 to-day they eke out a beggarly and formless existence by the 
 aid of oral tradition. But time was they were respectable as 
 well as joyous. What reproach is attached to the Widow of 
 xii
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 Ephesus, who has wandered from Petronius even unto INTRO- 
 Rabelais ? To what admirable purpose is the Sermo Mile- DUCTION 
 sius handled in the Decamerone, to which Apuleius himself 
 contributed one delectable tale ! Did not the genius of 
 Balzac devise a monument proper to its honourable antiquity 
 in the Conies Drolatlques ? And yet the second century was 
 its golden age, and none so generously enhanced its repute as 
 Apuleius. His masterpiece, in truth, is magnificently inter- 
 laced with jests, sometimes bound to the purpose of the 
 story by the thinnest of thin threads, more often attached 
 merely for their own or for ornament's sake. But not only 
 thus is he separate from his model. Though he is romantic The Book's 
 
 in style and temper alike and romanticism is an affair of touch Wlt 
 
 Life 
 treatment rather than of material he never loses touch with 
 
 actuality. He wrote with an eye upon the realities of life. 
 Observation was a force more potent with him than tradition. 
 If his personages and incidents are wholly imaginary, he 
 could still give them a living semblance by a touch of 
 intimacy or a suggestion of familiar detail. Compare his The Dramatis 
 characters to Lucian's, and measure the gulf between 
 the two ! Lucian's Abrcea is a warning voice that, and 
 no more. Byrrhena, on the other hand, is a great lady, 
 sketched, with a quick perception of her kind, centuries 
 before literature concerned itself with the individual. 
 And is not Milo, the miser, leagues nearer the possibility of 
 life than Hipparchus? Even Palaestra, despite the in- 
 genuity of one episode, is not for an instant comparable 
 in charm and humour to Fotis, most complaisant of serving- 
 maids. Nor is it only in the pourtrayal of character that 
 Apuleius proves his observation. There are many scenes 
 
 xiii
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- whose truthful simplicity is evidence of experience. When 
 DUCTION Lucius, arrived in Hypata, goes to the market to buy him 
 fish, he encounters an old fellow-student Pythias by name 
 already invested with the authority and insignia of an aedile. 
 Now he, being a veritable jack-in-office, is enraged that 
 Lucius has made so ill a bargain, and overturning his fish, 
 bids his attendants stamp it under foot, so that the traveller 
 loses supper and money too. The incident is neither ap- 
 posite nor romantic ; it is no more Milesian than mystical ; 
 but it bears the very pressure of life, and you feel that it was 
 transferred straight from a note-book. Again, where shall 
 you find a franker piece of realism than the picture of the 
 mill, whereto the luckless Ass was bound ? Very ugly and 
 evil-favoured were the men, covered only with ragged clouts ; 
 and how horrible a spectacle the horses, with their raw necks, 
 their hollow flanks, their broken ribs ! 
 
 The Witches The Greek author, disdaining atmosphere, is content to 
 of Thessaly se t ou t n j s incidents in a logical sequence. Apuleius has 
 enveloped his world of marvels in a heavy air of witchery 
 and romance. You wander with Lucius across the hills and 
 through the dales of Thessaly. With all the delight of a fresh 
 curiosity you approach its far-seen towns. You journey at 
 midnight under the stars, listening in terror for the howling 
 of the wolves, or the stealthy ambush. At other whiles, you 
 sit in the robbers 1 cave, and hear the ancient legends of Greece 
 retold. The spring comes on, and 'the little birds chirp 
 ' and sing their steven melodiously." 1 Secret raids, ravished 
 brides, valiant rescues, the gayest of intrigues these are the 
 diverse matters of this many-coloured book. The play of 
 fancy, the variety of style, the fertility of resource are inex- 
 xiv
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 haustible. Mythology is lifted into life, and life itself trans- INTRO- 
 formed to mystery at the wizard's touch. The misery and DUCTION 
 terror of the Ass's life are intercepted by the story of Cupid 
 and Psyche, set forth with rare beauty and distinction of Cupid and 
 style. And yet this interlude, exquisitely planned and Psyche 
 phrased, which suggested a worthless play l to Tom Hey- 
 wood, and has been an inspiration to many poets from Mrs. 
 Tighe to Mr. Bridges, is the one conspicuous fault of the 
 book. Admirable in itself, it is out of proportion as well as 
 out of key, and though you turn to it again and again for its 
 own sake, you skip it industriously when it keeps you from 
 robbery and witchcraft. But the most remarkable character- 
 istic of The Golden Ass is the ever-present element of sorcery, 
 of the Macabre as Mr. Pater calls it. Grim spectres and horrid The Macabre 
 ghosts stalk through its pages. The merriest Milesian jest Element 
 turns sudden to the terror of death and corruption. The 
 very story which Boccaccio borrowed is shifted by Apuleius 
 to a weird conclusion. The baker, having most wittily 
 avenged his wife's deceit, is lured into a chamber by a 
 meagre, ragged, ill-favoured woman, her hair scattering 
 upon her face, and when the servants burst open the door 
 to find their master, behold ! no woman, but only the 
 baker hanging from a rafter dead ! And where for pure 
 horror will you match Meroe's mutilation of Socrates ? 
 Secretly the witch attacks him in his sleep, drives her 
 sword deep into his neck, and dragging out his heart, stops 
 the wound with a sponge. Aristomenes, unwilling witness 
 
 1 Loves Maistrcsse : or, the Queens Masque. As it was three times pre- 
 sented before their two EXCELLENT MAJESTIES, within the space of eight 
 dayes. In the presence of sundry forraigne AMBASSADORS. 1636. 
 
 XV
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- of the cruelty, half believes it a dream, and gladly they 
 DUCTION resume the journey, until, when Socrates goes to the river to 
 drink, the sponge falls out and with it the last, faint pulse 
 of life. Again, when Thelyphron watches in the chamber of 
 the dead, lest witches should bite off morsels of the dead 
 man's face, and, falling asleep at sight of a weasel, loses his 
 ears and nose, who so callous as to feel no shudder of alarm ? 
 But the most terrific apparition of all is the obscene priest 
 of the Syrian Goddess, with his filthy companions carrying the 
 Divine Image from village to village, and clanging their cym- 
 bals to call the charitable. This grimy episode, with its sequent 
 orgies, is related with an incomparably full humour which, 
 despite its Oriental barbarity, is unmatched in literature. 
 
 Indeed there is scarce a scene without its ghostly enchant- 
 ment, its supernatural intervention. And herein you may 
 detect the personal predilection of Apuleius. The infinite 
 curiosity wherewith Lucius pries into witchcraft and sorcery 
 was shared by his author. The hero transformed suffered 
 his many and grievous bufFetings because he always coveted 
 an understanding of wizardry and spells ; and Apuleius, in 
 an age devoted to mysticism, was notorious for a magic- 
 monger. Seriously it was debated, teste St. Augustine, 
 whether Christ or he wrought the greater marvels : and 
 though the shape wherein the romance is cast induced a 
 confusion of author and hero, it is recorded that Apuleius 
 was a zealous magician, and doubtless it is himself, not 
 Lucius, he pictures in his last book among the initiate. In 
 the admirable description of Isis and her visitation, as of 
 the ceremonies wherein he was admitted to the secret wor- 
 ship of the Goddess, he departs entirely from his Greek 
 
 Apuleius 
 the Man 
 
 Autobio- 
 graphy 
 
 XVI
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 original. Here, indeed, we have a fragment of autobio- INTRO- 
 graphy. When in 158 A.D., at the dramatic moment of an DUCTION 
 adventurous career, Apuleius delivered his Apology -pro se His Apology 
 de magia before Claudius Maximus, he confessed that he 
 had been initiated into all the sacred rites of Greece, and 
 had squandered the better part of a comfortable fortune 
 in mysticism and the grand tour. The main accusation was 
 that he had won his wife a respectable and wealthy widow 
 by magic arts. He was also charged with other acts of 
 witchcraft and enchantment. Thattus, it was said, and a 
 free-born woman had swooned in his presence : a piece of 
 superstition which reminds you of Cotton Mather. But, 
 replied Apuleius, with excellent humour and a scepticism 
 worthy of Reginald Scot, they were epileptics, who could 
 stand in the presence of none save a magician. In brief, 
 we cannot appreciate The Golden Ass, until we realise the 
 modern spirit of curiosity which possessed its author. The 
 lecturer's fame well-nigh outran the writer's. Apuleius 
 travelled the length of civilised Africa with his orations, 
 as the popular lecturer of to-day invades America; and Modern 
 the Majesty of ^Esculapius, a favourite subject, was an Parallels 
 excellent occasion for his familiar mysticism. He had been 
 as intimately at home in the nineteenth century as in the 
 second. Were he alive to-day Paris would have been his 
 field, and he the undisputed master of Decadence and Sym- 
 bolism. The comparison is close at all points. Would he 
 not have delighted in the Black Mass, as celebrated on the 
 heights of Mont Paniasse ? Like too many among the 
 makers of modern French literature he was an alien writing 
 an alien tongue. His curiosity of diction, his unfailing 
 c xvii
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- loyalty to speech, his eager search after the strange and 
 DUCTION living word, his love of an art which knows no conceal- 
 ment these qualities proclaim the Decadent. And that 
 Symbolist is wayward indeed who finds not matter for his 
 fancy in the countless stories, which a perverse ingenuity 
 has twisted a hundred times into allegory. 
 
 Adlington Such the author and his book. And when William 
 Adlington, in the untried youth of English prose, undertook 
 the translation of The Golden Asse, you would have thought 
 no apter enterprise possible. Primitive and Decadent 
 approach art in the same temper. Each is of necessity 
 inclined to Euphuism. In the sixteenth century the slang, 
 the proverb, the gutter phrase, which Apuleius brought 
 back to the Latin tongue were not yet sifted from English 
 by the pedantry of scholars. But William Adlington, 
 His Purism though an Elizabethan, was something of a purist. To 
 be sure, he was unable to purge his diction of colour and 
 variety, and his manner was far better suited to the ren- 
 dering of Apuleius than the prose of to-day, which has 
 passed through the sieve of the eighteenth century. But 
 with an excellent modesty he pleads acceptance for his 
 ' simple translation. "* Though he applauds the 'frankeand 
 ' flourishing stile "" of his author, ' as he seems to have the 
 ' Muses at his will to feed and maintains his pen," 1 he uses of 
 deliberation ' more common and familiar words ' the phrase 
 proves the essential recognition of his own style ' fearing lest 
 ' the book should appear very obscure and darke, and thereby 
 His simple ' consequently loathsome to the reader." Indeed, he elected 
 to translate the one book of the world which demanded the 
 free employment of strange terms, and set himself incontinent 
 xviii
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 to avoid slang and to simplify redundancies. And his re- INTRO- 
 straint is the more unexpected when you recall the habit of DUCTION 
 contemporary translators. Barnaby Rich studded Herodotus 
 thick with colloquialisms and fresh-minted words. Philemon 
 Holland made no attempt to chasten his vocabulary. But 
 Adlington, his opportunity being the higher, fell the more 
 marvellously below it. For the most part, then, you will 
 ransack his version in vain for obsolete words or exotic 
 flowers of speech. And yet not even his love of simplicity 
 has kept his vocabulary entirely pure. Again and again a 
 coined phrase, a strange form shows, like a dash of colour, Coined 
 upon his page. ' The roperipe boy ' thus he renders puer 
 ilk peremptor meus by a happy inspiration, which Apuleius 
 himself might envy. Fresh and unhackneyed is ' the gleed 
 ' of the sun" 1 for jubaris orbe. How exquisitely does 'a 
 * swathell of red silke ' represent russeaj'asceola ! ' Traffe or 
 ' baggage ' is more pleasantly picturesque than sarcinam vel 
 laciniam, and one's heart rejoices to hear a churl styled *a 
 ' rich chuff'e.' Again, ' ungles ' is far more expressive, if less 
 common, than 'claws'; and who would write 'niggardly' when 
 ' niggish ' is ready to his hand ? And is not ' a carraine 
 ' stinke ' a high-sounding version of fetore nimio ? To en- 
 counter so sturdy and wholesome a phrase as ' I smelling his 
 ' crafty and subtil fetch ' though it be a poor echo of ego 
 persp'tclens malum istum verberonem blaterantem et inconcinne 
 causificantem is to regret the impoverishment of our English 
 tongue. But not often are we rejoiced by the unexpected, 
 and for the most part Adlington is a scrupulous critic of his 
 diction. As he makes no attempt to represent in English The Imagery 
 his author's vocabulary, so is he wont to shirk the imagery, 
 
 xix
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- and curtail the redundancy affected by Apuleius, repressing 
 DUCTION the hyperbolical ostentations of his original, save only 
 when he indulges in exaggerations of his own. When the 
 miserable Thelyphron is protecting a dead man from the 
 witch women, thus does Apuleius, with his admirable sense 
 of words, enhance the horror of crawling minutes : cum ecce 
 crepusculum et nox provecta et nox altior et dein con- 
 cubia altiora ; et jam nox intempesta for which Adlington 
 writes in all brevity 'midnight. 1 Apuleius again has a 
 dozen fantastical notions of the dawn, and Adlington cuts 
 them all down to the colourless level of 'when morning 
 ' was come/ Thus even does he reduce so garishly purple 
 a piece of imagery as : Commodum pumcantibus phaleris 
 Aurora roseum quatiens lacertum caclum inequitabat. When 
 the thieves return to their den after the sack of Mile's house, 
 and sit them down to revelry, Apuleius surpasses even his 
 own habit of opulent description. Estur ac potatur thus 
 he writes incondite pulmentis acervatim, panibus aggeratim, 
 poculis agminatim ingestis. ' Cups in battalions ! ' Tis a 
 pretty conceit, and for Adlington it means no more than 
 ' they drank and eat exceedingly. 1 But having accustomed 
 you to a chaste severity of language, he will break out 
 His rare suddenly into a decorative passage, for which the Latin gives 
 Ornament no warran t. 'Moreover there be divers that will cast off 
 ' their partlets, collars, habiliments, fronts, cornets, and krip- 
 ' pins'": thus he turns a perfectly simple sentence lacinias 
 omnes eocuunt^ amicula dimovent proving his quietude of 
 phrase the effect of design rather than of necessity. So 
 also he is wont to clip and crop his author's metaphors. 
 ' While I considered these things ' is a withered, nerveless
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 rendering of cum isto cogitationis solo Jluctuarem ; yet is it INTRO- 
 entirely characteristic of his method. Indeed, from begin- DUCTION 
 ning to end he treats his author with the freest hand, and 
 never permits the form and colour of the Latin to interrupt 
 his conception of English prose. 
 
 But if he sacrificed something by too scrupulous a re- His Ignor- 
 straint, he sacrificed still more by his scanty knowledge of aucet Latm 
 Latin. Scholarship was as little fashionable in Tudor Eng- 
 land as pedantry, the defect corresponding to its quality; 
 and Adlington laid no claim to profound erudition. He did 
 but purpose 'according to his slender knowledge (though 
 ' it were rudely, and farre disagreeing from the fine and 
 ' excellent doings now-adayes),' to translate ' the delectable 
 ' j easts of Lucius Apuleius into our vulgar tongue. 1 Nor 
 is the confession of ' slender knowledge ' a mere parade of 
 modesty : it is wholly justified by the event. To compile a 
 list of errors were superfluous. In truth there is no page 
 without its blunder, though, as we shall presently see, the 
 translator commonly manages to tumble not only into 
 sense but into distinction. Now and again the mistakes 
 are so serious as to pervert the meaning, and then one 
 regrets that Adlington was not more wisely guided. For 
 instance, the servants of Philebus, the priest of the Syrian 
 Goddess, are called puellce by Apuleius in contempt of their 
 miserable profession, and the translator impenetrably obscures 
 the episode by rendering the word 'daughters' without 
 a hint of explanation. Still, all are not so grave, though 
 you are constantly driven to wonder at the ingenuity of 
 error. When Byrrhena, in her panegyric of Hypata, tells 
 Lucius that there the merchant may encounter the bustle of 
 
 xxi
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- Rome, the quiet visitor enjoy the peace of a country-house, 
 
 DUCTION Adlington thus heroically misses the mark: 'When the 
 
 4 Roman merchants arrive in this city they are gently and 
 
 4 quietly entertained, and all that dwell within this province 
 
 4 (when they purpose to solace and repose themselves) do come 
 
 * to this city ! ' Verily there is magnificence (of a kind) in 
 such confusion ; and how shall one reproach a translator, 
 upon whom accuracy sets so light a burden ? Again, with 
 a sublime recklessness Adlington perverts extorta dentibus 
 
 ferarum trunca calvaria into ' the jaw-bones and teeth of 
 4 wilde beasts, 1 not pausing to consider the mere formality of 
 grammatical concord. And when Fotis relates how Pam- 
 phile, having failed to advance her suit by other arts (quod 
 nihil etiam tune in suos amores ceteris artibus promoveref), 
 designs to assume the shape and feathers of a bird, Adling- 
 ton so carelessly confounds cause and effect as to say that the 
 transformation was intended ' to worke her sorceries on such 
 4 as she loved. 1 Tune solus ignoras longe faciliores ad ex- 
 pugnandum domus esse majores? asks one of the robbers; 
 and Adlington, with the twisted cleverness of a fourth form 
 boy, extorts therefrom this platitude : ' Why are you only 
 ' ignorant that the greater the number is, the sooner they may 
 4 rob and spoil the house ? ' When one of Psyche's wicked 
 sisters threatens to go hang herself if Psyche prove the 
 mother of a god (si divini puelli quod absit hcec mater 
 audierit) statim me laqueo nexill suspendam), ' if it be a divine 
 
 * babe, 1 says the sister in the translation, ' and fortune to 
 4 come to the ears of the mother (as God forbid it should) 
 4 then may I go and hang my selfe " : thus ignorant was our 
 Englishman of the commonest idiom. Once, at the marriage 
 
 xxii
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 of Charite good fortune seemed to wait upon the Ass, and INTRO 
 
 his mistress promised him hay enough for a Bactrian camel DUCTION 
 
 (faenum camelo Eactr'mcc suffidens) : a promise misinterpreted 
 
 by a masterpiece of grotesquerie into ' she would call me her 
 
 ' little cam ell. 1 With his very easy baggage of Latin, the 
 
 translator lost the point of every Sprichwort, and turned 
 
 the literary allusion into nonsense. In the phrase non 
 
 cervam pro virgine fted hominem pro homine, the reference 
 
 to Iphigenia is patent, and yet our excellent Adlington 
 
 gets no nearer the truth than ' not a servant for his maidens, 
 
 ' but rather an Asse for himselfe." 
 
 So much must be said in dispraise of what after all is a 
 masterpiece of prose. The translator, said Dr. Johnson, ' is 
 * to exhibit his author's thoughts in such a dress as the author The Ideal 
 ' would have given them had his language been English. 1 Translation 
 Now, Adlington has failed, with the rest of the world, to 
 reach this high standard. Under no conceivable circum- 
 stances could Apuleius have written in his terms and with 
 his significance. For the perfect translation a knowledge of 
 two languages is necessary. The modern translator is com- 
 monly endowed with a complete apprehension of Latin or 
 Greek, and is withal lamentably ignorant of English. 
 Adlington, on the other hand, was sadly to seek in Latin, 
 but he more than atoned for his slender knowledge by an 
 admirable treatment of his own language. Though he Arlington's 
 abandoned the colour and variety of Apuleius, he turned 
 his author into as handsome a piece of prose as you are 
 like to meet. From the first page to the last you will not 
 find a trace of foreign idiom. The result is not so much a 
 fine translation as a noble original, fitted to endure by 
 
 xxiii
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO its vigorous diction and excellent rhythm. The manner 
 DUCTION j s perfectly adapted to narration, and there are few can 
 handle a story with better delicacy and point. The style, 
 if simple for its age, has all the distinction of simplicity. 
 The cadences are a perpetual pleasure to the ear. There is a 
 stateliness, a dignity of effect, which proves that the prose 
 of the Authorised Version was no invention, but a growth. 
 Though Adlington does not pretend to echo the locutions of 
 His Mastery Apuleius, he is, after his own method, a master of phrase, 
 of Phrase < Girded with her beautiful skarfe of love 1 is it not an 
 exquisite idea ? How more nearly or more adroitly would 
 you turn tamen nisi capillum distinxerit than in these terms : 
 ' if her hair be not curiously set forth ' ? If only the modern 
 translator dared to represent ementita lassititdo by ' feigned 
 ' and coloured weariness, 1 there were hope that his craft 
 might rise above journey-work. Who would complain 
 that the original was embroidered when it is to such admir- 
 able purpose as : ' Thus she cried and lamented, and after 
 ' she had wearied herself with sorrow and blubbered her 
 ' face with teares, she closed the windows of her hollow eyes, 
 ' and laid her down to sleep. 1 Here is prose, ever vivid 
 and alert, ever absolved from the suspicion of the stereo- 
 typed phrase. In Adlington's day 'good taste 1 had not 
 banned freshness and eccentricity from the language. A 
 century later it had been impossible to translate glebosa 
 camporum into ' cloggy, fallowed fields ' ; yet this is Adling- 
 ton's expression, and it may be matched or bettered on every 
 His Sustained page. Above all, his work is distinguished by that sustained 
 Rhythm no kility of rhythm which makes the Tudor prose the best 
 of good reading. ' And while I considered these things, I 
 xxiv
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 ' looked about, and behold I saw a farre off a shadowed INTRO- 
 ' valley adjoyning nigh unto a wood, where amongst divers DUCTION 
 " other hearbes and pleasant verdures, me thought I saw 
 ; divers flourishing Roses of bright damaske colour ; and said 
 ' within my beastiall mind, Verily that place is the place of 
 ' Venus and the Graces, where secretly glistereth the royall 
 ' hew, of so lively and delectable a floure ' : here are no exotic 
 words, no long-sought images ; the rare effect is attained by 
 a harmony, which not even the sternest simplicity can im- 
 poverish. Or take a passage in another key : * In the meane 
 ' season while I was fed with dainty morsels, I gathered 
 ' together my flesh, my skin waxed soft, my haire began to 
 ' shine, and was gallant on every part, but such faire and 
 ' comely shape of my body, was cause of my dishonour, for the 
 ' Baker and Cooke marvelled to see me so slick and fine, con- 
 4 sidering I did eat no hay at all/ True, the word ' slick ' 
 (aptly suggested by nitore) is, so to say, a high light ; but the 
 beauty still depends upon the rhythm, to which Adlington's 
 ear is ever attuned. In brief, whatever defects of scholar- A Model of 
 ship and restraint mar the translation, it remains a model of Prose 
 that large, untrammelled prose which, before the triumph of 
 common-sense, seemed within the reach of all. But is it not 
 the strangest paradox of literary history that they who lived 
 in the golden age of translation sought their original at 
 second hand, or fumbled for their meaning in the dark ? 
 
 One advantage at least was enjoyed by Adlington. He 
 studied Apuleius in the native Latin, using, we may be- 
 lieve, the famous folio of 1500 (cum Beroaldi commentariis), 
 prefaced by that Vita Lucii Apuleii summatim relata, which 
 he paraphrased in English with his accustomed inaccuracy. 
 d xxv
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- Howbeit, he did not ' so exactly pass through the author, 
 
 DUCTION * as to point every sentence according as it is in Latine ' : 
 for so, he adds, 'the French and Spanish translators have 
 ' not done. 1 Nor is there any doubt that he attempted 
 to amend his ignorance of Latin by the aid of a French 
 version. It is some proof of the early popularity of The 
 Golden Ass that Spain, Italy, and France had each its 
 translation into the vulgar tongue, before Adlington under- 
 
 Two French took the work. In 1522 there appeared a tiny quarto 
 Versions bearing this legend upon its title-page : ' Lucius Apuleius 
 ' de Lasne dore . . . On les vend a Paris en la grand 
 ' rue St. Jacques, Par Philippe le noir. 1 It was by one 
 Guillaume Michel ; and though before the English trans- 
 lation was a-making there had appeared another version by 
 Georges de la Bouthiere (Lyons, 1553), adorned with cuts in 
 the manner of Bernard Salmon, the earlier book was a guide, 
 and too often a blind guide, unto Adlingtons footsteps. The 
 
 Guillaume Frenchman, indeed, was the riper scholar, but not only did 
 
 Michel ne indulge the tiresome habit of commenting by the way, 
 
 and without warning, upon his text, but he was also guilty 
 
 His Mislead- of the most ingenious blunders, which Adlington, as though 
 ingof Adling- j^ OWI1 errors were no t sufficient, too readily followed. A 
 comparison of the versions sets the matter beyond un- 
 certainty. If again and again the same inaccuracy glares in 
 English and French, it is obvious that the one was borrowed 
 from the other. At the very outset there is a clear clue. 
 Guillaume Michel, according to his habit of expansion, 
 paraphrases hcec me suadente in half a dozen lines; and 
 Adlington, 1 turning his invigilant eye from the Latin, is 
 
 1 P. 27. 
 xxvi
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 guilty of the like unwarranted prolixity. Moreover, when INTRO 
 Apuleius by a quip says of Meroe, sic reapse nomen ejus tune DUCTION 
 Jubulis Socratis convenlre sentiebam, you are puzzled by the 
 ingenuity of Adlington's rendering 1 : 'being so named because 
 ' she was a Taverner,' until you turn to the French and find 
 in taverniere the source of error. Again, Diophanes, the 
 magician in Milo's story, is consulted by a certain merchant, 
 Cerdo by name. (The Latin is unmistakable : Cerdo quidam 
 nomine negotiator.) Now, Adlington boldly translates 'a 
 ' certaine Cobler,' 2 and instantly the Frenchman's qudque 
 tavatier explains the blunder. Toutfoys mon cheval et 
 tautre beste lasne de Milo ne me voulurent soiiffrir avec eulx 
 paistre : so Michel at the beginning of the Fourth Book. 
 And thus Adlington : ' but myne own horse and Miloes Asse 
 
 * would not suffer me to feed there with them, but I must seeke 
 
 * my dinner in some other place.' 3 The renderings agree pre- 
 cisely in a gross inaccuracy, and the Latin nee me cum asino 
 vel equo meo compascuus coetus attinere potuit adhuc insolitum 
 nlioquin prandere fosnum is involved enough to explain 
 Adlington's reliance upon the French. Another passage * 
 is even more convincing. Ad quandam villam possessoris 
 beati pervemunt, writes Apuleius, whom Adlington trans- 
 lates : l we fortuned to come to one Britunis house ' 4 ; nor 
 would it appear who this Britunis might be, unless you 
 turned to Michel's French and read, en aucun village chiez 
 ung riche laboureur nomme Brulinus. This strange corre- 
 spondence in error might be enforced by countless examples. 
 But by this it is evident that, although Adlington did 
 not, like Angell Day, Sir Thomas North, George Nichols 
 
 1 P. 28. 2 P. 49. 3 P. 83. P. 114. 
 
 xxvii
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- (translator of Thucydides), render his author from the 
 DUCTION French openly and without shame, he consulted the French 
 as well as the Latin, and fared rather the worse there- 
 for. 
 Adlington If for a j udgment of Adlington the writer there is ample 
 
 the Man material, of Adlington the man we know nothing more than 
 he vouchsafes himself. That six editions appeared in some 
 seventy years is proof of the book's popularity. But its only 
 mention is in the Register of the Stationers' 1 Company, where 
 it figures ' In the enterynge of Coopyes ' between the 22nd 
 July 1565 and the 22nd July 1566 something earlier than 
 the date of the dedication. ' Wekes. Recevyd of henry 
 * wekes, 1 thus it runs, ' for his lycense for pryntinge of a 
 ' boke intituled the hole boke of lucious apelious of ye golden 
 ' asse, viijd. 11 The epistle dedicatory to Thomas, Earle of 
 Sussex, is dated ' from University College in Oxenford, the 
 ' xviii. of September, 1566. 1 1 But whether or no he was a 
 graduate of that seat of learning is still uncertain. His 
 name does not appear in the Register of the University, and 
 in vain you consult the common sources of information. 
 He presents his book to his patron in the customary terms of 
 extravagant eulogy : ' The which if your honourable Lordship 
 ' shall accept, 1 writes he of his Apuleius, ' and take in good 
 ' part, I shall not only thinke my small travell and labour 
 ' well employed, but shall also receive a further comfort to 
 ' attempt some more serious matter." 1 If the serious matter 
 were ever attempted, its very gravity has sunk it out of know- 
 
 1 The first edition was ' imprinted at London in Fleet streate at the signe 
 ' of the Oliphante by Henry Wykes, Anno 1 566. ' Other editions appeared in 
 1571, 1582 (the rarest), 1596, 1600, 1639. 
 
 xxviii
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 ledge : unless, indeed, he be the author of that very rare INTRO 
 and exceeding obvious tract in verse, entitled, A Speciall DUCTION 
 Remedie against the force of lawlesse Love. 1 This was 
 published in 1579, and ascribed upon the title-page to 
 W. A. As the agreement of name and date is perfect, so 
 also the tone of the preface corresponds precisely with Adling- 
 ton's admonition to the reader of The Golden Asse. When 
 the ' friendly Reader ' of the Speciall Remedie is warned how 
 ' like unto a beast love transformeth a man, during the which 
 ' nothing can be exercised in minde, nothing by reason or 
 4 study of minde can be done," 1 you are forthwith reminded of 
 Adlington and of Lucius changed to an ass. The verses His Morality 
 are properly forgotten, but by his own confession we know 
 him subject to an invincible morality which, ill according 
 with his century, drove him perchance to undertake this enter- 
 prise gloomy enough for oblivion. Lector intende : Icetaberis 
 such is the bidding of Apuleius. And Adlington apolo- 
 gises that ' although the matter seeme very light and merry, 
 ' yet the effect thereof tendeth to a good and vertuous moral," 12 
 just as the author of the Speciall Remedie remarks with 
 Plinie, ' there is no book so simple, but that therein is some- 
 ' what worthy the noating." 1 As though the Milesian Tale 
 were judged, not by its pleasantry and delight, but by the His Love of 
 quality of its moral sustenance ! But Adlington was of Allegory 
 
 1 The full title runs thus : c A Speciall Remedie against the furious force 
 of lawlesse Love. And also, a true description of the same. With other 
 delightfull devices of daintie delightes to passe away idle time, with plea- 
 sure and profit. Newly compiled in English verse by W. A. Imprinted 
 by Richard Ihones, and are to be sold at his shop over against S. 
 Sepulchres Church without Newgate. 1579.' The tract, which is unique, 
 
 was found in the Evidence Room in Northumberland House, and reprinted in 
 
 1844 by the Roxburghe Society. 2 P. 4. 
 
 xxix
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 INTRO- those who would allegorise both mythology and romance. 
 DUCTION ' The f a }} o f Icarus is an example to proud and arrogant 
 ' persons, that weeneth to climbe up to the heavens ' ; and 
 further, he holds that ' by Mydas is carped the foul sin of 
 ' Avarice/ 1 And, as if to excuse the translation of a * meere 
 ' jeast and fable,' he addresses to the reader a most solemn 
 homily, setting forth the example of Nebuchadnezzar and 
 upholding the efficacy of prayer. * Verily under the wrap of 
 
 this transformation is taxed the life of mortall men,' thus 
 he writes in the proper spirit of the divine ; concluding that 
 ' we can never bee restored to the right figure of our selves, 
 ' except we taste and eat the sweet Rose of reason and vertue, 
 
 * which the rather by mediation of praier we may assuredly 
 ' attained 2 Nor is this the mere perversion of ingenuity. 
 His prudery is perfectly sincere. In many places he is in- 
 clined, by a modest suppression, to mitigate the gaiety of 
 the Apuleian narrative. But only once does he completely 
 sacrifice his author's effect to his own scruples ; and the 
 restrained nobility of his prose more than atones for lack of 
 scholarship and a prudish habit of mind. The lapse of 
 three centuries has left his book as fresh and living as its 
 original, and withal as brave a piece of narrative as the 
 literature of his century has to show. 
 
 CHARLES WHIBLEY. 
 
 1 P. 5. s P. 9. 
 
 XXX
 
 NOTE 
 
 This text is reprinted verbatim 
 
 and literatim from the edition 
 
 ofl639
 
 THE XI. BOOKES OF 
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 THE METAMORPHOSIE OF 
 
 LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 INTERLACED WITH SUNDRY PLEASANT AND 
 
 DELECTABLE TALES I WITH AN EXCELLENT 
 
 NARRATION OF THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 SET OUT IN THE FOURTH, FIFTH, AND 
 THE SIXTH BOOKES 
 
 TRANSLATED 
 
 OUT OF LATINE INTO ENGLISH, BY 
 
 WILLIAM ADLINGTON
 
 To the Right Honourable and Mighty Lord, 
 THOMAS EARLE OF SUSSEX, 
 
 Viscount Fitzwalter, Lord of Egremont and of 
 
 Burnell, Knight of the most noble Order of the Garter, 
 
 Justice of the forrests and Chases from Trent Southward ; 
 
 Captain of the Gentlemen Pensioners of the House 
 
 of the QUEENE our Soveraigne Lady. 
 
 FTER that I had taken upon me 
 (right Honourable) in manner of 
 that unlearned and foolish Poet 
 Cherillus, who rashly and unadvis- 
 edly wrought a big volume in 
 verses, of the valiant prowesse of 
 Alexander the Great, to translate this present 
 booke, contayning the Metamorphosis of Lucius 
 Apuleius ; being mooved thereunto by the right 
 pleasant pastime and delectable matter therein : I 
 eftsoones consulted with my selfe, to whome I 
 might best offer so pleasant and worthy a work, 
 devised by the Author, it being now barbarously
 
 DEDICATORY 
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 THE EPISTLE and simply framed in our English tongue. And 
 after long deliberation had, your honorable Lord- 
 ship came to my remembrance, a man much more 
 worthy, than to whom so homely and rude a 
 translation should be presented. But when I 
 again remembred the jesting and sportfull matter 
 of the booke, unfit to be offered to any man of 
 gravity and wisdome, I was wholly determined to 
 make no Epistle Dedicatory at all : till as now of 
 late pers waded thereunto by my friends, I have 
 boldly enterprised to offer the same to your Lord- 
 ship, who as I trust wil accept the same, than if 
 it did entreat of some serious and lofty matter, 
 considering that although the matter therein seeme 
 very light and merry, yet the effect thereof tendeth 
 to a good and vertuous moral, as in the following 
 Epistle to the Reader may be declared. For so 
 have all writers in times past employed their 
 travell and labours, that their posterity might 
 receive some fruitfull profit by the same. And 
 therfore the Poets feined not their fables in vain, 
 considering that children in time of their first 
 studies, are very much allured thereby to proceed 
 to more grave and deepe studies and disciplines, 
 whereas otherwise their mindes would quickly 
 loath the wise and prudent workes of learned men, 
 wherein in such unripe years they take no sparke 
 4
 
 DEDICATORY 
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 of delectation at all. And not only that profit THE EPISTLE 
 ariseth to children by such feined fables, but also 
 the vertues of men are covertly thereby com- 
 mended, and their vices discommended and ab- 
 horred. For by the Fable of Actaeon, where it is 
 feigned that when he saw Diana washing her selfe 
 in a Well, hee was immediately turned into an Hart, 
 and so was slain of his owne Dogs ; may bee meant, 
 That when a man casteth his eyes on the vaine 
 and soone fading beauty of the world, consenting 
 thereto in his minde, hee seemeth to bee turned 
 into a brute beast, and so to be slaine through the 
 inordinate desire of his owne affects. By Tantalus 
 that standeth in the midst of the floud Eridan, 
 having before him a tree laden with pleasant 
 apples, he beeing neverthelesse alvvayes thirsty and 
 hungry, betokeneth the insatiable desires of cove- 
 tous persons. The fables of Atreus, Thiestes, 
 Tereus and Progne signifieth the wicked and 
 abhominable facts wrought and attempted by 
 mortall men. The fall of Icarus is an example 
 to proud and arrogant persons, that weeneth to 
 climbe up to the heavens. By Mydas, who 
 obtained of Bacchus, that all things which he 
 touched might be gold, is carped the foul sin of 
 Avarice. By Phaeton, that unskilfully took in 
 hand to rule the Chariot of the Sunne, are repre- 
 
 5
 
 DEDICATORY 
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 THE EPISTLE sented those persons which attempt things passing 
 their power and capacity. By Castor and Pollux, 
 turned into a signe in heaven called Gemini, is 
 signified, that vertuous and godly persons shall be 
 rewarded after life with perpetuall blisse. And in 
 this feined jest of Lucius Apuleius is compre- 
 hended a figure of mans life, ministring most 
 sweet and delectable matter, to such as shall be 
 desirous to reade the same. The which if your 
 honourable Lordship shall accept and take in good 
 part, I shall not onely thinke my small travell and 
 labour well employed, but also receive a further 
 comfort to attempt some more serious matter, 
 which may be more acceptable to your Lordship : 
 desiring the same to excuse my rash and bold 
 enterprise at this time, as I nothing doubt of 
 your Lordships goodnesse. To whome I beseech 
 Almighty God to impart long life, with encrease 
 of much honour. 
 
 From Vniversity Colledge in Oxenford, the 
 xviij. of September, 1566. 
 
 Your Honours most bounden, 
 WIL. ADLINGTON.
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 TO THE READER 
 
 HEN that I had (gentle Reader) slightly 
 here and there runne over the pleasant 
 and delectable j easts of Lucius Apuleius 
 (a man of antient descent, and endued 
 with singular learning) written in such 
 a franke and flourishing stile, as he seemed 
 to have the Muses at his will, to feed 
 and maintaine his pen. And when againe 
 I perceived the matter to minister such exceeding plenty of 
 mirth, as never in my judgement the like hath been shewed 
 by any other, I purposed according to my slender know- 
 ledge (though it were rudely, and farre disagreeing from 
 the fine and excellent doings now adayes) to translate the 
 same into our vulgar tongue, to the end that amongst so 
 many sage and serious works (as every man well nigh 
 endeavour daily to encrease) there might bee some fresh 
 and pleasant matter to recreate the mindes of the Readers 
 withall. Howbeit I was eftsoones driven from my purpose 
 by two causes : First, perceiving that the Author had written 
 his work in so darke and high a stile, in so strange and 
 absurd words, and in such new invented phrases, as hee 
 seemed rather to set it forth to shew his magnificencie of 
 prose, than to participate his doings to other. Secondly, 
 fearing least the translation of this present Booke (which 
 seemeth a meere jeast and fable, and a Worke worthy to 
 be laughed at, by reason of the vanity of the Author) might 
 be contemned and despised of all men, and so consequently 
 I to be had in derision, to occupie my selfe in such frivolous 
 and trifling toyes. But on the other side, when I had 
 throughly learned the intent of the Author, and the pur- 
 
 7
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 TO THE pose why hee invented so sportfull a jest, I was verily per- 
 READER swaded that my small travell should not onely be accepted 
 by many, but the matter it selfe allowed and praised of 
 all. Wherefore I intend, God willing, as nigh as I can, to 
 utter and open the meaning thereof, to the simple and 
 ignorant, whereby they may not take the same, as a thing 
 only to jest and laugh at (for the fables of JEsop and the 
 feigning of Poets were never written for that purpose) but 
 by the pleasantnesse thereof bee rather induced to the 
 knowledge of their present estate, and thereby transforme 
 themselves into the right and perfect shape of men. The 
 argument of the book is, how Lucius Apuleius the Author 
 himselfe travelled into Thessaly, being a region in Greece, 
 where all the women for the most part bee such wonderfull 
 Witches, that they can transforme men into the figure of 
 brute beasts : Where after he had continued a few dayes, 
 by the mighty force of a violent confection hee was changed 
 into a miserable Asse, and nothing might reduce him to 
 his wonted shape but the eating of a Rose, which after 
 the indurance of infinite sorrow, at length he obtained by 
 prayer. Verily under the wrap of this transformation is 
 taxed the life of mortall men, when as we suffer our mindes 
 so to bee drowned in the sensuall lusts of the flesh, and the 
 beastly pleasure thereof (which aptly may be called the 
 violent confection of Witches) that wee lose wholly the use 
 of reason and vertue, which properly should be in man, and 
 play the parts of brute and savage beasts. By like occasion 
 we reade, how divers of the companions of Vlysses were 
 turned by the marvellous power of Circe into swine. And 
 finde we not in Scripture, that Nabuchadnezzar the ninth 
 King of Babylon, by reason of his great dominions and 
 realmes, fell into such exceeding pride, that he was suddenly 
 transformed of Almighty God into an horrible monster, 
 having the head of an Oxe, the feet of a Beare, and the 
 taile of Lion, and did eat hay as a Beast. But as Lucius 
 Apuleius was changed into his humane shape by a Rose, 
 the companions of Vlysses by great intercession, and 
 Nabuchadnezzar by the continual prayers of Daniel, wher- 
 by they knew themselves, and lived after a good and 
 8
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 vertuous life : so can we never bee restored to the right TO THE 
 figure of our selves, except we taste and eat the sweet Rose READER 
 of reason and vertue, which the rather by mediation of 
 praier we may assuredly attaine. Againe, may not the 
 meaning of this worke be altered and turned in this sort : 
 A man desirous to apply his minde to some excellent art, 
 or given to the study of any of the sciences, at the first 
 appeareth to himselfe an asse without wit, without know- 
 ledge, and not much unlike a brute beast, till such time 
 as by much paine and travell he hath atchieved to the 
 perfectnesse of the same, and tasting the sweet floure and 
 fruit of his studies, doth thinke himselfe well brought to 
 the right and very shape of a man. 
 
 Finally, the metamorphosie of Lucius Apuleius may be 
 resembled to youth without discretion, and his reduction to 
 age possessed with wisedome and vertue. 
 
 Now since this booke of Lucius is a figure of mans life, 
 and toucheth the nature and manners of mortall men, egg- 
 ing them forward from their Asinall forme, to their humane 
 and perfect shape, beside the pleasant and delectable jests 
 therein contained, I trust if my simple translation be no- 
 thing accepted, yet the matter it selfe shall be esteemed by 
 such as not onely delight to please their fancies in reading 
 the same, but also take a patterne thereby to regenerate 
 their minds from brutish and beastly custome. Howbeit 
 I have not so exactly passed through the Author, as to 
 point every sentence according as it is in Latine, or so 
 absolutely translated every word as it lieth in the prose, 
 (for so the French and Spanish translators have not done) 
 considering the same in our vulgar tongue would have 
 appeared very obscure and darke, and thereby consequently 
 loathsome to the Reader, but nothing erring as I trust 
 from the true and naturall meaning of the Author, have 
 used more common and familiar words, yet not so much 
 as I might doe, for the plainer setting forth of the same. 
 
 But howsoever it be, gentle Reader, I pray thee take 
 
 it in good part, considering that for thee I have 
 
 taken this paine, to the intent that thou mayst 
 
 read the same with pleasure. 
 
 B 9
 
 LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE LIFE OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 BRIEFELY DESCRIBED 
 
 UCIUS APULEIUS African, an excellent 
 follower of Plato his sect, born in Madaura, 
 a Countrey sometime inhabited by the 
 Romans, and under the jurisdiction of 
 Syphax, scituate and lying upon the borders 
 of' Numidia and Getulia, whereby he call- 
 eth himselfe halfe a Numidian and halfe 
 a Getulian : and Sidonius named him the 
 Platonian Madaurence : his father called Theseus had passed 
 all offices of dignity in his countrey with much honour. His 
 mother named Salvia was of such excellent vertue, that she 
 passed all the Dames of her time, borne of an antient house, 
 and descended from the noble Philosopher Plutarch, and 
 Sextu$ his Nephew. His wife called Prudentila was endowed 
 with as much vertue and riches as any woman might be. Hee 
 himselfe was of an high and comely stature, gray eyed, his 
 haire yellow, and a beautifull personage. He Jlourished in 
 Carthage in the time of lolianus A vitus and Cl. Maximus 
 Proconsuls, where he spent his youth in learning the liberatt 
 Sciences, and much profited under his masters there, whereby 
 not without cause hee calleth himselfe the Nource of Carthage, 
 and the celestiall Muse and venerable mistresse of Africke. 
 Soone after, at Athens (where in times past the well of all 
 doctrine flourished) he tasted many of the cups of the Muses, 
 he learned Poetry, Geometry, Musicke, Logicke, and the 
 unvoersall knowledge of Philosophy, and studied not in 
 
 11
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 THE LIFE vaine the nine Muses, that is to say, the nine noble and royall 
 
 OF LUCIUS disciplines. 
 
 Immediatly after he went to Rome, and studied there the 
 Latine tongue, with such labour and continuall study, that he 
 atchieved to great eloquence, and was knowne and approved 
 to be excellently learned, whereby he might worthily be called 
 Polyhistor, that is to say, one that knoweth much or many 
 things. 
 
 And being thus no lesse endued with eloquence, than with 
 singular learning, he wrote many books for them that should 
 come after : "whereof part by negligence of times be intercepted, 
 and part now extant, doe sufficiently declare, with how much 
 wisedome and doctrine hee flourished, and with how much 
 vertue hee excelled amongst the rude and barbarous people. 
 The like was Anacharsis amongst the most luskish Scythes. 
 But amongst the Bookes of Lucius Apuleius, which are 
 perished and prevented, howbeit greatly desired as now adayes, 
 one was intituled Banquetting questions, another entreating 
 of the nature of fish, another of the generation of beasts, 
 another containing his Epigrams, and another called ' Herma- 
 goras\- but such as are now extant are the f our e bookes named 
 ' FloridorumJ wherein is contained a flourishing stile, and 
 a savory kind of learning, which delighteth, holdeth, and 
 rejoiceth the Reader marvellously ; wherein you shall Jinde a 
 great variety of things, as leaping one Jrom another : One 
 excellent and copious Oration, containing- all the grace and 
 vertue of the art Oratory, wherby he clear eth himselfe of the 
 crime of art Magick, which was slanderously objected against 
 him by his Adversaries, wherein is contained such force of 
 eloquence and doctrine, as he seemeth to passe and excell him- 
 selfe. There is another booke of the god of the spirit of 
 Socrates, whereof S. Augustine maketh mention in his booke of 
 the definition of spirits, and description of men. Two other 
 books of the opinion of Plato, wherein is briefely contained 
 that which before was largely expressed. One booke of Cos- 
 mography, comprising many things of A ristotles Meteors. The 
 Dialogue of Trismegistus, translated by him out of Greeke 
 into Latine, so fine, that it rather seemeth with more eloquence 
 turned into Latine, than it was before written in Greeke. But 
 12
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 principally these eleven Bookes of the ' Golden Asse," 1 are en- THE LIFE 
 riched with stick pleasant matter, with such excellency and OF LUCIUS 
 
 .,_/./. . 7 . , 7 ,7 , .7 7 . APULEIUS 
 
 "variety of flourishing tales, that nothing may be more sweet 
 
 and delectable, whereby worthily they may be intituled, The 
 
 Bookes of the ' Golden Asse," 1 for the passing stile and matter 
 
 therein. For what can be more acceptable than this Asse 
 
 of Gold indeed. Howbeit there be many which would 
 
 rather intitle it ' Metamorphosis J that is to say, A 
 
 transfiguration or transformation, by reason of 
 
 the argument and matter therein.
 
 LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR 
 
 TO HIS SONNE, FAUSTINUS 
 
 And unto the Readers of this Book 
 
 THA T I to thee some joyous jests 
 
 may shew in gentle glose. 
 And frankly feed thy bended eares 
 
 with passing pleasant prose : 
 So that thou daine in seemely sort 
 
 this wanton booke to view, 
 That is set out and garnisht fine, 
 
 with written phrases new. 
 I will declare how one by hap 
 
 his humane Jigure lost, 
 And how in brutish formed shape 
 
 his loathed life he tost. 
 And how he was in course of time 
 
 from such estate unfold, 
 Who eftsoone turned to pristine shape* 
 
 his lot unlucky told. 
 
 HAT and who he was attend a while, and 
 you shall understand that it was even I, 
 the writer of myne owne Metamorphosie 
 and strange alteration of figure. Hymet- 
 tus, Athens, Isthmia, Ephire, Tenaros, 
 and Sparta, being fat and fertile soiles (as I 
 pray you give credit to the bookes of more 
 everlasting fame) be places where myne 
 antient progeny and linage did sometime flourish : there I 
 say, in Athens, when I was yong, I went first to schoole. 
 
 15
 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE 
 
 THE Soone after (as a stranger) I arrived at Rome, whereas by 
 PREFACE g re at industry, and without instruction of any schoolemaster, 
 I attained to the full perfection of the Latine tongue. Be- 
 hold, I first crave and beg your pardon, lest I should happen 
 to displease or offend any of you by the rude and rustick 
 utterance of this strange and forrein language. And verily 
 this new alteration of speech doth correspond to the enter- 
 prised matter wherof I purpose to entreat, I will set forth 
 unto you a pleasant Grecian jeast. Whereunto gentle 
 Reader if thou wilt give attendant eare, it will 
 minister unto thee such delectable matter as 
 thou shalt be contented withall. 
 
 16
 
 THE 
 
 FIRST BOOKE 
 
 of LUCIUS APULEIUS of 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 THE FIRST CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius riding in Thessaly, fortuned to fall 
 
 into company with two strangers, that reasoned 
 
 together of the mighty power of Witches. 
 
 S I fortuned to take my voyage into Thes- 
 saly, about certaine affaires which I had 
 to doe (for there myne auncestry by my 
 mothers side inhabiteth, descended of the 
 line of that most excellent person Plu- 
 tarch, and of Sextus the Philosopher his 
 Nephew, which is to us a great honour) 
 and after that by much travell and great 
 paine I had passed over the high mountaines and slipperie 
 vallies, and had ridden through the cloggy fallowed fields ; 
 perceiving that my horse did waxe somwhat slow, and to 
 the intent likewise I might repose and strengthen my self 
 (being weary with riding) I lighted off my horse, and wiping 
 away the sweat from every part of his body, I unbrideled him, 
 and walked him softly in my hand, to the end he might pisse, 
 and ease himselfe of his wearinesse and travell : and while 
 hee went grazing freshly in the field (casting his head some- 
 times aside, as a token of rejoycing and gladnesse) I perceived 
 a little before me two companions riding, and so I overtaking 
 them made the third. And while I listned to heare their 
 communication, the one of them laughed and mocked his 
 fellow, saying, Leave off I pray thee and speake no more, for 
 
 19
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER I cannot abide to heare thee tell such absurd and incredible 
 lies; which when I heard, I desired to heare some newes, 
 How Apulei- an( j sa j(j i pray you masters make me partaker of your talk, 
 us riding in , J J . in 
 
 Thessaly for- that am not so curious as desirous to know all your commu- 
 
 tuned to fall nication : so shall we shorten our journey, and easily passe 
 into company this high hill before us, by merry and pleasant talke. 
 
 with two jj u j. n e th a t l au ghed before at his fellow, said againe, 
 reasoned 5 ' to- Verily this tale is as true, as if a man would say that by 
 gether of the sorcery and inchantment the floods might be inforced to run 
 mighty power against their course, the seas to be immovable, the aire to 
 of Witches lacke the blowing of windes, the Sunne to be restrayned from 
 his naturall race, the Moone to purge his skimme upon 
 herbes and trees to serve for sorceries : the starres to be 
 pulled from heaven, the day to be darkned, and the darke 
 night to continue still. Then I being more desirous to 
 heare his talke than his companions, sayd, I pray you, that 
 began to tell your tale even now, leave not off so, but tell 
 the residue. And turning to the other I sayd, You perhappes 
 that are of an obstinate minde and grosse eares, mocke and 
 contemne those things which are reported for truth, know 
 you not that it is accounted untrue by the depraved opinion 
 of men, which either is rarely scene, seldome heard, or that 
 passeth the capacitie of mans reason, which if it be more 
 narrowly scanned, you shall not onely finde it evi- 
 dent and plaine, but also very easie to be 
 brought to passe. 
 
 20
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE SECOND CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius told to the strangers, what he saw 
 a lugler do in Athens. 
 
 HE other night being at supper with a sort 
 of hungry fellowes, while I did greedily 
 put a great morsell of meate in my mouth, 
 that was fried with the flower of cheese 
 and barly, it cleaved so fast in the passage 
 of my throat and stopped my winde in 
 such sort, that I was well nigh choked. 
 And yet at Athens before the porch there 
 called Peale, I saw with these eyes a lugler that swallowed 
 up a two hand sword, with a very keene edge, and by and by 
 for a little money that we that looked on gave him, hee 
 devoured a chasing speare with the point downeward. And 
 after that hee had conveyed the whole speare within the 
 closure of his body, and brought it out againe behind, there 
 appeared on the top therof (which caused us all to marvell) 
 a faire boy pleasant and nimble, winding and turning him- 
 selfe in such sort, that you would suppose he had neither 
 bone nor gristle, and verily thinke that he were the naturall 
 Serpent, creeping and sliding on the knotted staffe, which the 
 god of Medicine is feigned to beare. But turning me to him 
 that began his tale, I pray you (quoth I) follow your purpose, 
 and I alone will give credit unto you, and for your paynes 
 will pay your charges at the next Inne we come unto. To 
 whom he answered, Certes sir I thanke you for your gentle 
 offer, and at your request I wil proceed in my tale ; but first 
 I will sweare unto you by the light of this Sunne that shineth 
 here, that those things that I shall tell be true, lest when you 
 come to the next city called Thessaly, you should doubt any 
 thing of that which is rife in the mouthes of every person, 
 and done before the face of all men. And that I may first 
 make relation unto you, what and who I am, and whither I 
 go, and for what purpose, know ye that I am of Egin, travel- 
 
 21
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER ling these countries about from Thessaly to Etolia, and from 
 11 . Etolia to Boetia, to provide for honey, cheese, and other 
 
 ^i j * "I? 1 " victuals to sell againe : and understanding that at Hippata 
 us told to the , , . , . ,, P . ,, ., n rri , f>^ . 
 strangers (which is the principal! city 01 all 1 hessaly) is accustomed to 
 
 what he saw be sould new cheeses of exceeding good taste and relish, I 
 
 a lugler do fortuned on a day to goe thither, to make my market there : 
 
 in Athens |j u ^ as jj. often happeneth, I came in an evill houre ; for one 
 
 Lupus a Purveyor had bought and ingrossed up all the day 
 
 before, and so I was deceived. 
 
 Wherefore towards night being very weary, I went to the 
 Baines to refresh my selfe, and behold, I fortuned to espy my 
 companion Socrates sitting upon the ground, covered with a 
 torne and course mantle ; who was so meigre and of so sallow 
 and miserable a countenance, that I scantly knew him : for 
 fortune had brought him into such estate and calamity, that 
 he verily seemed as a common begger that standeth in the 
 streets to crave the benevolence of the passers by. Towards 
 whom (howbeit he was my singular friend and familiar 
 acquaintance, yet halfe in despaire) I drew nigh and said, 
 Alas my Socrates, what meaneth this ? how fareth it with 
 thee ? What crime hast thou committed ? verily there is 
 great lamentation and weeping made for thee at home : Thy 
 children are in ward by the decree of the Provinciall ludge : 
 Thy wife (having ended her mourning time in lamentable 
 wise, with face and visage blubbered with teares, in such sort 
 that she hath well nigh wept out both her eyes) is constrained 
 by her parents to put out of remembrance the unfortunate 
 losse and lacke of thee at home, and against her will to take 
 a new husband. And dost thou live here as a ghost or hogge, 
 to our great shame and ignominy ? 
 
 Then answered he to me and said, O my friend Aristo- 
 menus, now perceive I well that you are ignorant of the 
 whirling changes, the unstable forces, and slippery incon- 
 stancy of Fortune : and therewithall he covered his face 
 (even then blushing for very shame) with his rugged mantle, 
 insomuch that from his navel downwards he appeared all 
 naked. 
 
 But I not willing to see him any longer in such great 
 miserie and calamitie, took him by the hand and lifted him
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 up from the ground: who having his face covered in such CHAPTER 
 sort, Let Fortune (quoth he) triumph yet more, let her have II 
 her sway, and finish that which shee hath begun. And there- How Apulei- 
 withall I put off one of my garments and covered him, and US 8 toneers ' 
 immediatly I brought him to the Baine, and caused him to what he saw 
 be anointed, wiped, and the filthy scurfe of his body to be a lugler do 
 rubbed away ; which done, although I were very weary my * n Athens 
 selfe, yet I led the poore miser to my Inne, where he reposed 
 his body upon a bed, and then I brought him meat and 
 drinke, and so wee talked together : for there we might be 
 merry and laugh at our pleasure, and so we were, untill such 
 time as he (fetching a pittifull sigh from the bottome 
 of his heart, and beating his face in miserable 
 sort) began to say. 
 
 THE THIRD CHAPTER 
 
 How Socrates in his returne from Macedony to 
 
 Larissa, was spoyled and robbed, and how he fell 
 
 acquainted with one Meroe a Witch. 
 
 LAS poore miser that I am, that for the 
 onely desire to see a game of triall of 
 weapons, am fallen into these miseries and 
 wretched snares of misfortune. For in my 
 returne from Macedonie, wheras I sould 
 all my wares, and played the Merchant by 
 the space of ten months, a little before 
 that I came to Larissa, I turned out of 
 the way, to view the scituation of the countrey there, and 
 behold in the bottome of a deep valley I was suddenly 
 environed with a company of theeves, who robbed and spoiled 
 me of such things as I had, and yet would hardly suffer me to 
 escape. But I beeing in such extremity, in the end was 
 happily delivered from their hands, and so I fortuned to 
 come to the house of an old woman that sold wine, called 
 Meroe, who had her tongue sufficiently instructed to flattery : 
 unto whom I opened the causes of my long peregrination 
 
 23
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER and carefull travell, and of myne unlucky adventure : and 
 
 III after that I had declared unto her such things as then 
 
 How Socrates p resen tly came to my remembrance, shee gently entertained 
 
 from 18 *lviace^ mee an ^ maj & e mee good cheere : and by and by beeing 
 
 dony to Lar- pricked by carnall desire, shee brought mee to her own bed 
 
 issa, was spoyl- chamber ; whereas I poore miser the very first night of our 
 
 ed and robbed, lying together did purchase to my selfe this miserable face, 
 
 and for her lodging I gave her such apparel as the theeves 
 
 left to cover me withall. 
 
 Then I understanding the cause of his miserable estate, 
 sayd unto him, In faith thou art worthy to sustaine the most 
 extreame misery and calamity, which hast defiled and macu- 
 lated thyne owne body, forsaken thy wife traiterously, and 
 dishonoured thy children, parents, and friends, for the love of 
 a vile harlot and old strumpet. When Socrates heard mee 
 raile against Meroe in such sort, he held up his finger to mee, 
 and as halfe abashed sayd, Peace peace I pray you, and look- 
 ing about lest any body should heare, I pray you (quoth hee) 
 take heed what you say against so venerable a woman as shee 
 is, lest by your intemperate tongue you catch some harm. 
 Then with resemblance of admiration, What (quoth I) is she 
 so excellent a person as you name her to be ? I pray you 
 tell mee. Then answered hee, Verily shee is a Magitian, 
 which hath power to rule the heavens, to bring downe the 
 sky, to beare up the earth, to turne the waters into hills, and 
 the hills into running waters, to lift up the terrestrial spirits 
 into the aire, and to pull the gods out of the heavens, to 
 extinguish the planets, and to lighten the deepe darkenesse 
 of hell. Then sayd I unto Socrates, I pray thee leave off 
 this high and mysticall kinde of talke, and tell the matter in 
 a more plaine and simple fashion. Then answered he, Will 
 you heare one or two, or moe of her facts which she hath 
 done, for whereas she inforceth not onely the inhabitants of 
 the countrey here, but also the Indians and the Ethiopians 
 the one and the other, and also the Antictons, to love her in 
 most raging sort, such are but trifles and chips of her occu- 
 pation, but I pray you give eare, and I will declare of 
 more greater matters, which shee hath done openly 
 
 and before the face of all men. 
 24
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE FOURTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Meroe the Witch turned divers persons into 
 miserable beasts. 
 
 N faith Aristomenus to tell you the truth, 
 this woman had a certaine Lover, whom by 
 the utterance of one only word she turned 
 into a Bever, because he loved another 
 woman beside her : and the reason why 
 she transformed him into such a beast is, 
 for that it is his nature, when hee per- 
 ceiveth the hunters and hounds to draw 
 after him, to bite off his members, and lay them in the way, 
 that the hounds may be at a stop when they finde them, and 
 to the intent it might so happen unto him (because he 
 fancied another woman) she turned him into that kinde of 
 shape. 
 
 Semblably she changed one of her neighbours, being an 
 old man and one that sold wine, into a Frog, in that he was 
 one of her occupation, and therefore she bare him a grudge, 
 and now the poore miser swimming in one of his pipes of 
 wine, and well nigh drowned in the dregs, doth cry and call 
 with an hoarse voice, for his old guests and acquaintance 
 that pass by. Likewise she turned one of the Advocates of 
 the Court (because he pleaded and spake against her in a 
 rightful cause) into a horned Ram, and now the poore Ram 
 is become an Advocate. Moreover she caused, that the wife 
 of a certain lover that she had should never be delivered of 
 her childe, but according to the computation of all men, it 
 is eight yeares past since the poore woman began first to 
 swell, and now shee is encreased so big, that shee seemeth as 
 though she would bring forth some great Elephant : which 
 when it was knowne abroad, and published throughout all 
 the towne, they tooke indignation against her, and ordayned 
 that the next day shee should most cruelly be stoned to 
 death. Which purpose of theirs she prevented by the 
 D 25
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER vertue of her inchantments, and as Medea (who obtained of 
 IV King Creon but one days respit before her departure) did 
 v7 w f 6 ^ 6 Durne R H hi s h use j him, and his daughter : so she, by her 
 turned divers conjurations and invocations of spirits (which she useth in a 
 persons into certaine hole in her house, as shee her selfe declared unto me 
 miserable the next day following) closed all the persons in the towne 
 beasts so sure j n t ne } r houses, and with such violence of power, that 
 for the space of two dayes they could not get forth, nor open 
 their gates nor doore, nor break downe their walls, whereby 
 they were inforced by mutuall consent to cry unto her, and 
 to binde themselves strictly by oaths, that they would never 
 afterwards molest or hurt her: and moreover, if any did 
 offer her any injury they would be ready to defend her. 
 Whereupon shee, mooved by their promises, and stirred by 
 pitty, released all the towne. But shee conveyed the prin- 
 cipal Author of this ordinance about midnight, with all 
 his house, the walls, the ground, and the foundation, into 
 another towne, distant from thence an hundred miles, 
 scituate and beeing on the top of an high hill, and by 
 reason thereof destitute of water, and because the edifices 
 and houses were so nigh built together, that it was not 
 possible for the house to stand there, she threw it downe 
 before the gate of the towne. Then spake I and said, 
 O my friend Socrates, you have declared unto me many 
 marvellous things and strange chances, and moreover 
 stricken me with no small trouble of minde, yea rather 
 with great feare, lest the same old woman using the like 
 practise, should fortune to heare all our communication. 
 Wherefore let us now sleepe, and after that we have 
 taken our rest, let us rise betimes in the morn- 
 ing, and ride away hence before day, as far as 
 we can possible.
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE FIFTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Socrates and Aristomenus slept together in 
 
 one Chamber, and how they were handled 
 
 by Witches. 
 
 N speaking these words, and devising with 
 my selfe of our departing the next 
 morrow, lest Meroe the Witch should 
 play by us as she had done by divers 
 other persons, it fortuned that Socrates 
 did fall asleepe, and slept very soundly, by 
 reason of his travell, and plenty of meat 
 and wine wherewithall hee had filled him- 
 selfe. Wherefore I closed and barred fast the doores of the 
 chamber, and put my bed behinde the doore, and so layed mee 
 downe to rest. But I could in no wise sleepe, for the great Feare and care 
 feare which was in my heart, untill it was about midnight, kee P e m en 
 and then I began to slumber. But alas, behold suddenly wakin s- 
 the chamber doores brake open, and lockes, bolts, and posts 
 fell downe, that you would verily have thought that some 
 Theeves had beene presently come to have spoyled and 
 robbed us. And my bed whereon I lay being a truckle bed, 
 fashioned in forme of a Cradle, and one of the feet broken 
 and rotten, by violence was turned upside downe, and I 
 likewise was overwhelmed and covered lying in the same. 
 Then perceived I in my selfe, that certaine affects of the 
 minde by nature doth chance contrary. For as tears often- 
 times trickle down the cheekes of him that seeth or heareth 
 some joyfull newes, so I being in this fearefull perplexity, 
 could not forbeare laughing, to see how of Aristomenus I 
 was made like unto a snaile in his shell. And while I lay 
 on the ground covered in this sort, I peeped under the bed 
 to see what would happen. And behold there entred in two 
 old women, the one bearing a burning torch, and the other 
 a sponge and a naked sword : and so in this habit they 
 stood about Socrates being fast asleep. Then shee which 
 
 27
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 V 
 
 How Socrates 
 and Aristome- 
 nus slept to- 
 gether in one 
 Chamber, and 
 how they were 
 handled by 
 Witches 
 
 Meroe, so 
 called of Me- 
 rum, which in 
 English is 
 strong wine 
 untempered. 
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 bare the sword sayd unto the other, Behold sister Panthia, 
 this is my deare and sweet heart, which both day and night 
 hath abused my wanton youthfulnesse. This is he, who 
 little regarding my love, doth not onely defame me with 
 reproachfull words, but also intendeth to run away. And 
 I shall be forsaken by like craft as Vlysses did use, and 
 shall continually bewaile my solitarinesse as Calipso. Which 
 said, shee pointed towards mee that lay under the bed, and 
 shewed me to Panthia. This is hee, quoth she, which is his 
 Counsellor, and perswadeth him to forsake me, and now 
 being at the point of death he lieth prostrate on the ground 
 covered with his bed, and hath scene all our doings, and 
 hopeth to escape scot-free from my hands, but I will cause 
 that hee shall repent himselfe too late, nay rather forth- 
 with, of his former untemperate language, and his present 
 curiosity. Which words when I heard I fell into a cold 
 sweat, and my heart trembled with feare, insomuch that the 
 bed over me did likewise rattle and shake. Then spake 
 Panthia unto Meroe and said, Sister let us by and by teare 
 him in pieces, or tye him by the members, and so cut them 
 off. Then Meroe (being so named because she was a 
 Taverner, and loved wel good wines) answered, Nay rather 
 let him live, and bury the corps of this poore wretch in 
 some hole of the earth ; and therewithall shee turned the 
 head of Socrates on the other side, and thrust her sword up 
 to the hilts into the left part of his necke, and received the 
 bloud that gushed out, into a pot, that no drop thereof fell 
 beside : which things I saw with myne owne eyes, and as I 
 thinke to the intent she might alter nathing that pertained 
 to sacrifice, which she accustomed to make, she thrust her 
 hand downe into the intrals of his body, and searching 
 about, at length brought forth the heart of my miserable 
 companion Socrates, who having his throat cut in such sort, 
 yeelded out a dolefull cry and gave up the ghost. Then 
 Panthia stopped the wide wound of his throat with the 
 Sponge, and said, O Sponge sprung and made of the sea, 
 beware that thou passe not by running River. This being 
 sayd, the one of them moved and turned up my bed, and 
 then they strid over mee, and clapped their buttocks upon 
 28
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 my face, and all bepissed mee till I was wringing wet. When CHAPTER 
 this was ended they went their wayes, and the doores closed v 
 
 fast, the posts stood in their old places, and the lockes and How Socrates 
 bolts were shut againe. But I that lay upon the ground ^s slept t 
 like one without soule, naked and cold, and wringing wet gether in one 
 with pisse, like to one that were more than halfe dead, Chamber, and 
 yet reviving my selfe, and appointed as I thought for the howthe y were 
 Gallowes, began to say, Alasse what shall become of me witches 
 to morrow, when my companion shall be found murthered 
 here in the chamber ? To whom shall I seeme to tell any 
 similitude of truth, when as I shall tell the trueth in deed ? 
 They will say, If thou wert unable to resist the violence of 
 the women, yet shouldest thou have cried for helpe ; Wouldst 
 thou suffer the man to be slaine before thy face and say 
 nothing ? Or why did they not slay thee likewise ? Why 
 did they spare thee that stood by and saw them commit 
 that horrible fact ? Wherefore although thou hast escaped 
 their hands, yet thou shalt not escape ours. While I pon- 
 dered these things with my selfe the night passed on, and 
 so I resolved to take my horse before day, and goe forward 
 on my journy. 
 
 Howbeit the wayes were unknowne unto me, and thereupon 
 I tooke up my packet, unlocked and unberred the doors, but 
 those good and faithfull doores which in the night did open 
 of their owne accord, could then scantly be opened with 
 their keyes. And when I was out I cried, O sirrah Hostler 
 where art thou ? open the stable doore, for I will ride away 
 by and by. The Hostler lying behinde the stable doore 
 upon a pallet, arid halfe asleepe, What (quoth hee) doe you 
 not know that the wayes be very dangerous ? What meane 
 you to rise at this time of night ? If you perhaps guilty of 
 some heynous crime, be weary of your life, yet thinke you 
 not that wee are such Sots that we will die for you. Then 
 said I, It is well nigh day, and moreover, what can Theeves 
 take from him that hath nothing ? Doest thou not know The wayfaring 
 (Foole as thou art) if thou be naked, if ten Gyants should raan that hath 
 assaile thee, they could not spoyle or rob thee ? Whereunto ^ngmerrilyl^ 
 the drowsie Hostler halfe asleepe, and turning on the other fore a theefe. 
 side, answered, What know I whether you have murthered 
 
 29
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER your Companion whom you brought in yesternight, or no, 
 v and now seeke the meanes to escape away ? O Lord, at that 
 ^ w . ^. ocrates time I remember the earth seemed to open, and me thought 
 nus slept >I to- 1 saw a ^ ne ^ S a * e *he Dog Cerberus ready to devour mee ; 
 gether in one and then I verily beleeved, that Meroe did not spare my 
 Chamber, and throat, mooved with pitty, but rather cruelly pardoned mee 
 to bring mee to the Gallowes. Wherefore I returned to my 
 chamber, and there devised with my selfe in what sort I 
 should finish my life. But when I saw that fortune would 
 minister unto mee no other instrument, than that which my 
 bed profered mee, I sayd, O bed, O bed, most dear unto me 
 at this present, which hast abode and suffered with me so 
 many miseries, judge and arbiter of such things as were done 
 here this night, whome onely I may call to witnesse for my 
 innocency, render (I say) unto me some wholsome weapon 
 to end my life, that am most willing to dye. And there- 
 withal I pulled out a piece of the rope wherewith the bed 
 was corded, and tyed one end therof about a rafter by the 
 window, and with the other end I made a sliding knot, and 
 stood upon my bed, and so put my neck into it, and when I 
 leaped from the bed, thinking verily to strangle my selfe and 
 so dye, behold the rope beeing old and rotten burst in the 
 middle, and I fell downe tumbling upon Socrates that lay 
 under : And even at that same very time the Hostler came 
 in crying with a loud voyce, and sayd, Where are you that 
 made such hast at midnight, and now lies wallowing abed ? 
 Whereupon (I know not whether it was by my fall, or by 
 the great cry of the Hostler) Socrates as waking out of a 
 sleepe, did rise up first and sayd, It is not without cause 
 that strangers do speak e evill of all such Hostlers, for this 
 Caitife in his comming in, and with his crying out, I thinke 
 under a colour to steale away somthing, hath waked me out 
 of a sound sleepe. Then I rose up joy full with a merry 
 countenance, saying, Behold good Hostler, my friend, my 
 companion and my brother, whom thou didst falsly affirme 
 to be slaine by mee this night. And therewithall I em- 
 braced my friend Socrates and kissed him : but hee smelling 
 the stinke of the pisse wherewith those Hagges had embrued 
 me, thrust me away and sayd, Clense thy selfe from this 
 30
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 filthy odour, and then he began gently to enquire, how that CHAPTER 
 noysome sent hapned unto mee. But I finely feigning and v 
 
 colouring the matter for the time, did breake off his talk, 
 and tooke him by the hand and sayd, Why tarry we ? Why 
 lose wee the pleasure of this faire morning ? Let us goe, and gether in one 
 so I tooke up my packet, and payed the charges of the house Chamber, and 
 and departed : and we had not gone a mile out of the Towne ^^^f-j^ 1 " 6 
 but it was broad day, and then I diligently looked upon Witches ^ 
 Socrates throat, to see if I could espy the place where Meroe 
 thrust in her sword : but when I could not perceive any 
 such thing, I thought with my selfe, What a mad man am I, 
 that being overcome with wine yester night, have dreamed 
 such terrible things ? Behold, I see Socrates is sound, safe, 
 and in health. Where is his wound ? where is the Sponge ? 
 Where is his great and new cut ? And then I spake to him 
 and sayd, Verily it is not without occasion, that Physitians 
 of experience do affirme, That such as fill their gorges 
 abundantly with meat and drinke, shall dreame of dire and 
 horrible sights : for I my selfe, not tempering my appetite 
 yester night from the pots of wine, did seeme to see this 
 night strange and cruel visions, that even yet I think my self 
 sprinkled and wet with human blood : whereunto Socrates 
 laughing made answer and said, Nay, thou art not wet with 
 the blood of men, but thou art imbrued with stinking pisse; 
 and verily I my self dreamed this night that my throat was 
 cut, and that I felt the paine of the wound, and that my 
 heart was pulled out of my belly, and the remembrance 
 thereof makes me now to feare, for my knees do so tremble 
 that I can scarse goe any further, and therefore I would faine 
 eat somewhat to strengthen and revive my spirits. Then 
 said I, Behold here thy breakefast, and therwithall I opened 
 my scrip that hanged upon my shoulder, and gave him bread 
 and cheese, and we sate downe under a great Plane tree, and 
 I eat part with him; and while I beheld him eating greedily, 
 I perceived that he waxed meigre and pale, and that his 
 lively colour faded away, insomuch that beeing in great fear, 
 and remembring those terrible furies of whom I lately 
 dreamed, the first morsell of bread that I put in my mouth 
 (which was but very small) did so sticke in my jawes, that I 
 
 31
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER could neither swallow it downc, nor yet yeeld it up, and 
 
 V moreover the small time of our being together increased 
 
 How Socrates m y f eare? an( J what is hee that seeing his companion die 
 
 nus sTept'to- * n ^ ne high-way before his face, would not greatly lament 
 
 gether in one and bee sorry ? But when that Socrates had eaten suffi- 
 
 Chamber, and ciently hee waxed very thirsty, for indeed he had well nigh 
 
 h ^ wt ^ e y w , ere devoured all a whole Cheese : and behold evill fortune! there 
 
 Witches^ was behinde the Plane tree a pleasant running water as 
 
 cleere as Crystal, and I sayd unto him, Come hither Socrates 
 
 to this water and drinke thy fill. And then he rose and 
 
 came to the River, and kneeled downe upon the side of 
 
 the banke to drinke, but he had scarce touched the water 
 
 with his lips, when as behold the wound of his throat 
 
 opened wide, and the Sponge suddenly fell into the water, 
 
 and after issued out a little remnant of bloud, and his 
 
 body being then without life, had fallen into the river, had 
 
 not I caught him by the leg and so pulled him up. And 
 
 after that I had lamented a good space the death of my 
 
 wretched companion, I buried him in the Sands there by 
 
 the river. 
 
 Which done, in great feare I rode through many Outwayes 
 and desart places, and as culpable of the death of Socrates, 
 I forsooke my countrey, my wife, and my children, and came 
 to Etolia where I married another Wife. 
 
 This tale told Aristomenus, and his fellow which before 
 obstinatly would give no credit unto him, began to say, 
 Verily there was never so foolish a tale, nor a more absurd 
 lie told than this. And then he spake unto me saying, 
 Ho sir, what you are I know not, but your habit and coun- 
 tenance declareth that you should be some honest Gentle- 
 man, (speaking to Apuleius) doe you beleeve this tale? 
 Yea verily (quoth I) why not? For whatsoever the fates 
 have appointed to men, that I beleeve shall happen. For 
 many things chance unto me and unto you, and to 
 divers others, which beeing declared unto the ignorant 
 bee accounted as lies. But verily I give credit unto his 
 tale, and render entire thankes unto him, in that by the 
 pleasant relation thereof we have quickly passed and 
 shortned our journey, and I thinke that my horse also 
 32
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 was delighted with the same, and hath brought me to 
 
 the gate of this city without any paine at all. Thus 
 
 ended both our talke and journey, for they two 
 
 turned on the left hand to the next villages, 
 
 and I rode into the City. 
 
 THE SIXTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius came to a city named Hipate, and 
 
 was lodged in one Milos house, and brought 
 
 him letters from Demea of Corinth. 
 
 FTER that those two Companions were 
 departed I entred into the City : where 
 I espied an old woman, of whom I 
 enquired whether that City were called 
 Hipata, or no : Who answered, Yes. 
 Then I demaunded, whether she knew one 
 Milo an Alderman of the city : Wherat 
 she laughed and sayd, Verily it is not 
 without cause that Milo is called an Elderman, and 
 accounted as chiefe of those which dwel without the walls 
 of the City. To whom I sayd againe, I pray thee good 
 mother doe not mocke, but tell me what manner of man he 
 is, and where he dwelleth. Mary (quoth shee) doe you see 
 those Bay windowes, which on the one side abut to the gates 
 of the city, and on the other side to the next lane? There 
 Milo dwelleth, very rich both in mony and substance, but by 
 reason of his great avarice and insatiable covetousnes, he is 
 evill spoken of, and he is a man that liveth all by usurie, 
 and lending his money upon pledges. Moreover he dwelleth 
 in a small house, and is ever counting his money, and hath 
 a wife that is a companion of his extreame misery, neither 
 keepeth he any more in his house than onely one maid, who 
 goeth apparelled like unto a beggar. Which when I heard, 
 I laughed in my selfe and thought, In faith my friend 
 Demeas hath served me well, which hath sent me being a 
 stranger, unto such a man, in whose house I shall not bee 
 E 33 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 V 
 
 How Socrates 
 and Aristome- 
 nus slept to- 
 gether in one 
 Chamber, and 
 how they were 
 handled by 
 Witches
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER afeard either of smoke or of the sent of meat ; and there- 
 VI withall I rode to the doore, which was fast barred, and 
 
 H Apuleius k noc k ef i a l ou d. Then there came forth a maid which sayd, 
 named ^ip- Ho sirrah that knocks so fast, in what kinde of sort will 
 ate, and was you borrow money ? Know you not that we use to take no 
 lodged in one gage, unlesse it be either plate or Jewels ? To whom I 
 l ^? s h hou e > answered, I pray thee maid speake more gently, and tel me 
 him letters wne ther thy master be within or no ? Yes (quoth shee) 
 from Demea that he is, why doe you aske ? Mary (said I) I am come 
 of Corinth from Corinth, and have brought him letters from Demeas 
 his friend. Then sayd the Maid, I pray you tarry here till 
 I tell him so, and therewithal! she closed rast the doore, and 
 went in, and after a while she returned againe and sayd, My 
 master desireth you to alight and come in. And so I did, 
 whereas I found him sitting upon a little bed, going to 
 supper, and his wife sate at his feet, but there was no meat 
 upon the table, and so by appointment of the maid he came 
 to him and saluted him, and delivered the letters which I 
 had brought from Demeas. Which when hee had read hee 
 sayd, Verily I thanke my friend Demeas much, in that hee 
 hath sent unto mee so worthy a guest as you are. And 
 therewithall he commanded his wife to sit away and bid 
 mee sit in her place ; which when I refused by reason of 
 courtesie, hee pulled me by the garment and willed me to 
 sit downe ; for wee have (quoth he) no other stool here, nor 
 no other great store of houshold stuffe, for fear of robbing. 
 Then I according to his commandement, sate downe ; and 
 he fell in further communication with me and sayd, Verily I 
 doe conjecture by the comly feature of your body, and by the 
 maidenly shamefastnesse of your face, that you are a Gentle- 
 man borne, as my Friend Demeas hath no lesse declared the 
 same in his letters. Wherfore I pray you take in good part 
 our poore lodging, and behold yonder chamber is at your 
 commaundement, use it as your owne, and if you be contented 
 therewithall, you shal resemble and follow the vertuous 
 qualities of your good father Theseus, who disdained not the 
 slender and poore Cottage of Hecades. 
 
 And then he called his maid which was named Fotis, and 
 said, Carry this gentlemans packet into the chamber, and 
 34
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 lay it up safely, and bring water quickly to wash him, and a 
 towel to rub him, and other things necessary, and then 
 bring him to the next Baines, for I know that he is very 
 weary of travell. 
 
 These things when I heard, I partly perceived the man- 
 ners of Milo, and endeavoring to bring my selfe further into 
 his favour, I sayd, Sir there is no need of any of these 
 things, for they have been every where ministred unto mee 
 by the way, howbeit I will go into the Baines, but my 
 chiefest care is that my horse be well looked to, for hee 
 brought mee hither roundly, and therefore I pray 
 thee Fotis take this money and buy some hay 
 and oats for him. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 VI 
 
 HowApuleius 
 came to a city 
 named Hip- 
 ate, and was 
 lodged in one 
 Miles house, 
 and brought 
 him letters 
 from Demea 
 of Corinth 
 
 THE SEVENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius going to buy fish, met with his 
 companion Pythias. 
 
 HEN this was done, and all my things 
 brought into the Chamber, I walked to- 
 wards the Baines ; but first I went to 
 the market to buy some victuals for my 
 supper, whereas I saw great plenty of fish 
 set out to be sould : and so I cheapened 
 part therof, and that which they first 
 held at an hundred pence, I bought at 
 length for twenty. Which when I had done, and was 
 departing away, one of myne old acquaintance, and fellow 
 at Athens, named Pithias, fortuned to passe by, and view- 
 ing me a good space, in the end brought me to his remem- 
 brance, and gently came and kissed mee, saying, O my deare 
 friend Lucius, it is a great while past since we two saw each 
 other, and moreover, from the time that wee departed from 
 our Master Vestius, I never heard any newes from you. I 
 pray you Lucius tell mee the cause of your peregrination 
 hither. Then I answered and sayd, I will make relation 
 therof unto you to morrow : But I pray you tell me, what 
 
 35
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER mcaneth these Servitors that follow you, and these rods or 
 VII verges which they beare, and this habit which you wear like 
 ivApuleius un t- o a Magistrate, verily I thinke you have obtained your 
 fishnet with own desire, whereof I am right glad. Then answered 
 his companion Pithias, I beare the office of the Clerke of the market, and 
 Pythias therfore if you will have any pittance for your supper speake 
 . and I will purvey it for you. Then I thanked him heartily, 
 trats^o go* 215 " an d sayd I had bought meat sufficient already. But Pithias 
 somtimes in when hee espied my basket wherein my fish was, tooke it 
 Rome. an( j s haked it, and demanded of me what I payd for all my 
 
 Sprots. In faith (quoth I) I could scarse inforce the fish- 
 monger to sell them for twenty pence. Which when he 
 heard, he brought me backe again into the market, and 
 enquired of me of whom I bought them. I shewed him the 
 old man which sate in a corner, whome by and by, by 
 reason of his office hee did greatly blame, and sayd, Is it 
 thus that you serve and handle strangers, and specially our 
 friends ? Wherefore sell you this fish so deare, which is 
 not worth a halfepenny ? Now perceive I well, that you 
 are an occasion to make this place, which is the principall 
 city of all Thessaly, to be forsaken of all men, and to reduce 
 it into an unhabitable Desart, by reason of your excessive 
 prices of victuals, but assure your selfe that you shall not 
 escape without punishment, and you shall know what myne 
 office is, and how I ought to punish such as offend. Then 
 he tooke my basket and cast the fish on the ground, and 
 commaunded one of his Sergeants to tread them under his 
 feet. This done he perswaded mee to depart, and sayd that 
 that onely shame and reproach done unto the old Caitife 
 did suffice him. So I went away all amazed and astonied, 
 towards the Baines, considering with my selfe and devising 
 of the grace of my companion Pithias. Where when I had 
 well washed and refreshed my body, I returned againe to 
 Milos house, both without money and meat, and so got into 
 my chamber. Then came Fotis immediately unto mee, and 
 said that her master desired me to come to supper. But I 
 not ignorant of Milos abstinence, prayed that I might be 
 pardoned, since as I thought best to ease my wearied bones 
 rather with sleepe and quietnesse, than with meat. When 
 36
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 Fotis had told this to Milo, he came himselfe and tooke mee CHAPTER 
 by the hand, and while I did modestly excuse my selfe, I VI1 
 will not (quoth he) depart from this place, untill such time HowApuleius 
 u 11 -4.U j 4. c. i. g m g t u y 
 
 as you shall goe with me : and to conhrme the same, hee ^^ B met wit jj 
 
 bound his words with an oath, whereby he enforced me to his companion 
 
 follow him, and so he brought me into his chamber, where Pythias 
 
 hee sate him downe upon the bed, and demaunded of mee 
 
 how his friend Demeas did, his wife, and children, and all 
 
 his family : and I made him answer to every question, 
 
 specially hee enquired the causes of my peregrination and 
 
 travell, which when I had declared, he yet busily demanded 
 
 of the state of my Countrey, and of the chiefe magistrates 
 
 there, and principally of our Lievtenant and Viceroy ; who 
 
 when he perceived that I was not only wearied by travell, 
 
 but also with talke, and that I fell asleep in the midst of my 
 
 tale, and further that I spake nothing directly or advisedly, 
 
 he suffered me to depart to my chamber. So scaped I at 
 
 length from the pratling and hungry supper of this rank old 
 
 man, and beeing compelled by sleepe, and not by meat, 
 
 and having supped only with talke, I returned 
 
 into my chamber, and there betooke me to 
 
 my quiet and long desired rest.
 
 THE 
 
 SECOND BOOKE 
 
 of LUCIUS APULEIUS of 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 THE EIGHTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius fortuned to meet with his 
 Cousin Byrrhena. 
 
 S soone as night was passed, and the day 
 began to spring, I fortuned to awake, and 
 rose out of my bed as halfe amazed, and 
 very desirous to know and see some mar- 
 vellous and strange things, remembring 
 with my selfe that I was in the middle 
 part of all Thessaly, whereas by the com- 
 mon report of all the World, the Sorceries 
 and Inchauntments are most used, I oftentimes repeated 
 with my self the tale of my companion Aristomenus touching 
 the manner of this City, and being mooved by great desire, 
 I viewed the whole scituation thereof, neither was there any 
 thing which I saw there, that I did beleeve to be the same 
 which it was indeed, but every thing seemed unto me to be 
 transformed and altered into other shapes, by the wicked 
 power of Sorcerie and Inchantment, insomuch that I thought 
 the stones which I found were indurate, and turned from 
 men into that figure, and that the birds which I heard chirp- 
 ing, and the trees without the walls of the city, and the 
 running waters, were changed from men into such kinde of 
 likenesses. And further I thought the Statues, Images, and 
 Walls could goe, and the Oxen and other brute beasts, could 
 speake and tell strange newes, and that immediately I should 
 see and heare some Oracles from the heavens, and from the 
 F 41
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER gleed of the Sun. Thus being astonied or rather dismayed 
 VIII an d vexed with desire, knowing no certaine place whither I 
 Ho^Apuleius intended to go, I went from street to street, and at length 
 fortuned to , T .1.- \ r f 
 
 meet with his ( as I curiously gazed on every thing) I fortuned unwares to 
 
 Cousin Byr- come into the market place, whereas I espied a certaine 
 rhena woman, accompanied with a great many servants, towards 
 whom I drew nigh, and viewed her garments beset with gold 
 and pretious stone, in such sort that she seemed to be some 
 noble matron. And there was an old man which followed her, 
 who as soon as he had espied me, said to himselfe, Verily this 
 is Lucius, and then he came and embraced me, and by and 
 by he went unto his mistresse and whispered in her eare, and 
 came to mee againe saying, How is it Lucius that you will 
 not salute your deere Cousin and singular friend ? To whom 
 I answered, Sir I dare not be so bold as to take acquaint- 
 ance of an unknowne woman. 
 
 Howbeit as halfe ashamed I drew towards her, and shee 
 returned her selfe, and sayd, Behold how he resembleth the 
 very same grace as his mother Salvia doth, behold his coun- 
 tenance and stature, agreeing thereto in each poynt, behold 
 his comely state, his fine slendernesse, his Vermilion colour, 
 his haire yellow by nature, his gray and quicke eyes like to the 
 Eagle, and his trim and comely gate, which do sufficiently 
 prove him to be the naturall childe of Salvia. And moreover 
 she sayd, O Lucius, I have nourished thee with myne owne 
 proper hand : and why not ? For I am not onely of kindred 
 unto thy mother by blood, but also by nourice, for wee both 
 descended of the line of Plutarch, lay in one belly, sucked the 
 same paps, and were brought up together in one house. And 
 further there is no other difference beetweene us two, but 
 that she is married more honourably than I : I am the same 
 Byrrhena whom you have often heard named amongst your 
 friends at home : wherfore I pray you to take so much pains 
 as to come with me to my house, and use it as your owne. 
 At whose words I was partly abashed and sayd, God forbid 
 Cosin that I should forsake myne Host Milo without any 
 reasonable cause; but verily I will, as often as I have occasion 
 to passe by your house, come and see how you doe. And 
 while we went talking thus together, by little and little wee 
 42
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 came to her house, and behold the gates of the same were CHAPTER 
 very beautifully set with pillars quadrangle wise, on the top V ^I 
 wherof were placed carved statues and images, but principally ^f ^ A P" leius 
 the Goddesse of Victory was so lively and with such excellencie meet" with his 
 portrayed and set forth, that you would verily have thought Cousin Byr- 
 that she had flyed, and hovered with her wings hither and rhena 
 thither. On the contrary part, the Image of the goddesse 
 Diana was wrought in white marble, which was a marvellous 
 sight to see, for shee seemed as though the winde did blow 
 up her garments, and that she did encounter with them that 
 came into the house. On each side of her were Dogs made 
 of stone, that seemed to menace with their fiery eyes, their 
 pricked eares, their bended nosethrils, and their grinning 
 teeth, in such sort that you would have thought they had 
 bayed and barked. And moreover (which was a greater 
 marvel to behold) the excellent carver and deviser of this 
 worke had fashioned the Dogs to stand up fiercely with their 
 former feet, and their hinder feet on the ground ready to 
 fight. Behinde the backe of the goddesse was carved a stone 
 in manner of a Caverne, environed with mosse, hearbes, 
 leaves, sprigs, green branches and bowes, growing in and 
 about the same, insomuch that within the stone it glistered 
 and shone marvellously, under the brim of the stone hanged 
 apples and grapes carved finely, wherein Art envying Nature, 
 shewed her great cunning. For they were so lively set out, 
 that you would have thought if Summer had been come, 
 they might have bin pulled and eaten ; and while I beheld 
 the running water, which seemed to spring and leap under 
 the feet of the goddesse, I marked the grapes which hanged 
 in the water, which were like in every point to the grapes of 
 the vine, and seemed to move and stirre by the violence of 
 the streame. Moreover, amongst the branches of the stone 
 appeared the image of Acteon : and how that Diana (which 
 was carved within the same stone, standing in the water) 
 because he did see her naked, did turne him into an Hart, 
 and so he was tome and slaine of his owne hounds. And 
 while I was greatly delighted with the view of these things, 
 Byrrhena spake to me and sayd, Cousin all things here be at 
 your commandement. And therewithall she willed secretly 
 
 43
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER the residue to depart: who being gone she sayd, My most 
 
 VI11 deare Cousin Lucius, I swear by this goddesse Diana, that 
 
 How Apuleius j { j oe ffrea tiy tender your safety, and am as carefull for you 
 
 fortuned to . & * * i 11 i -u t r 
 
 meet with his ^ " y ou were m j ne owne natural! childe, beware 1 say, 
 
 Cousin Byr- beware of the evil arts and wicked allurements of that 
 
 rhena Pamphiles who is the wife of Milo, whom you call your 
 
 Host, for she is accounted the most chiefe and principall 
 
 Magitian and Enchantresse living, who by breathing out 
 
 certain words and charmes over bowes, stones, and other 
 
 frivolous things, can throw down all the powers of the 
 
 heavens into the deepe bottome of hell, and reduce all the 
 
 whole world againe to the old Chaos. For as soone as shee 
 
 espieth any comely yong man, shee is forthwith stricken 
 
 with his love, and presently setteth her whole minde and 
 
 affection on him. She soweth her seed of flattery, she invades 
 
 his spirit and intangleth him with continuall snares of un- 
 
 measurable love. 
 
 And then if any accord not to her filthy desire, or if they 
 seeme loathsome in her eye, by and by in the moment of an 
 houre she either turneth them into stones, sheep, or some 
 other beast, as her selfe pleaseth, and some she presently 
 slayeth and murthereth, of whom I would you should ear- 
 nestly beware. For she burneth continually, and you by 
 reason of your tender age and comely beauty are capable of 
 her fire and love. 
 
 This with great care Byrrhena gave me in charge, but I 
 (that alwayes coveted and desired, after that I had heard talk 
 of such Sorceries and Witchcrafts, to be experienced in the 
 same) little esteemed to beware of Pamphiles, but willingly 
 determined to bestow my money in learning of that art, and 
 now wholly to become a Witch. And so I waxed joyful, and 
 wringing my selfe out of her company, as out of linkes or 
 chaines, I bade her farewell, and departed toward the house 
 of myne host Milo, by the way reasoning thus with my selfe : 
 O Lucius now take heed, be vigilant, have a good care, for 
 now thou hast time and place to satisfie thy desire, now 
 shake off thy childishnesse, and shew thy selfe a man, but 
 especially temper thy selfe from the love of thyne hostesse, 
 and abstain from violation of the bed of Milo, but hardly 
 44
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 attempt to winne the maiden Fotis, for she is beautifull, CHAPTER 
 wanton, and pleasant in talke. And soone when thou goest , VIn 
 to sleepe, and wlien shee bringeth thee gently into thy HowApulems 
 11 j 4. j i i .1 i ,1 J , fortuned to 
 
 chamber, and tenderly layeth thee downe in thy bed, and meet w i t h j, is 
 
 lovingly covereth thee, and kisseth thee sweetly, and de- Cousin Byr- 
 parteth unwillingly, and casteth her eyes oftentimes backe, rhena 
 and stands still, then hast thou a good occasion ministred 
 unto thee to prove and try the minde of Fotis. Thus 
 while I reasoned with my selfe I came to Milos doore, 
 persevering still in my purpose, but I found 
 neither Milo nor his wife at home. 
 
 THE NINTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius fell in love with Fotis. 
 
 HEN I was within the house I found my 
 deare and sweet love Fotis mincing of 
 meat and making pottage for her master 
 and mistresse, the Cupboord was all set 
 with wines, and I thought I smelled the 
 savor of some dainty meats : she had 
 about her middle a white and clean 
 apron, and shee was girded about her 
 body under the paps with a swathell of red silke, and she 
 stirred the pot and turned the meat with her faire and white 
 hands, in such sort that with stirring and turning the same, 
 her loynes and hips did likewise move and shake, which was 
 in my mind a comely sight to see. 
 
 These things when I saw I was halfe amazed, and stood 
 musing with my selfe, and my courage came then upon mee, 
 which before was scant. And I spake unto Fotis merrily 
 and sayd, O Fotis how trimmely you can stirre the pot, and 
 how finely, with shaking your buttockes, you can make 
 pottage. O happy and twice happy is hee to whom you give 
 leave and licence but to touch you there. Then shee beeing 
 likewise merrily disposed, made answer, Depart I say, Miser 
 from me, depart from my fire, for if the flame thereof doe 
 
 45
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER never so little blaze forth it will burne thee extreamely, and 
 
 none can extinguish the heate thereof but I alone, who in 
 
 HowApulems s ^j rr i n pr the pot and making the bed can so finely shake my 
 
 fell in love ,-. ^, n r i i i i ?i ju i i- 
 
 with Fotis selfe- When she had sayd these words she cast her eyes upon 
 
 mee and laughed, but I did not depart from thence until such 
 time as I had viewed her in every point. But what should I 
 speake of others, when as I doe accustome abroad to marke 
 and view the face and haire of every dame, and afterwards 
 delight my selfe therewith privately at home, and thereby 
 judge the residue of their shape, because the face is the 
 principall part of all the body, and is first open to our eyes. 
 And whatsoever flourishing and gorgeous apparell doth 
 worke and set forth in the corporal parts of a woman, the 
 same doth the naturall and comely beauty set out in the face. 
 Moreover there be divers, that to the intent to shew their 
 grace and feature, wil cast off their partlets, collars, habili- 
 ments, fronts, cornets and krippins, and doe more delight to 
 shew the fairenesse of their skinne, than to decke themselves 
 up in gold and pretious stones. But because it is a crime 
 unto me to say so, and to give no example thereof, know 
 yee, that if you spoyle and cut off the haire of any woman, or 
 deprive her of the colour of her face, though shee were never 
 so excellent in beauty, though shee were throwne downe from 
 heaven, sprung of the Seas, nourished of the flouds, though 
 she were Venus her selfe, though shee were accompanied with 
 the Graces, though shee were waited upon of all the Court of 
 Cupid, though shee were girded with her beautifull skarfe of 
 Love, and though shee smelled of perfumes and musks, yet if 
 shee appeared bald, shee could in no wise please, no not her 
 owne Vulcanus. 
 
 O how well doth a faire colour and a shining face agree 
 with glittering hair ! Behold, it encountreth with the beams 
 of the Sunne, and pleaseth the eye marvellously. Sometimes 
 the beauty of the haire resembleth the colour of gold and 
 honey, sometimes the blew plumes and azured feathers about 
 the neckes of Doves, especially when it is either anointed 
 with the gumme of Arabia, or trimmely tuft out with the 
 teeth of a fine combe, which if it be tyed up in the pole of the 
 necke, it seemeth to the lover that beholdeth the same, as a 
 
 46
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 glasse that yeeldeth forth a more pleasant and gracious come- CHAPTER 
 linesse than if it should be sparsed abroad on the shoulders of 
 the woman, or hang downe scattering behind. Finally there fgJi in "ove* 
 is such a dignity in the haire, that whatsoever shee be, though w jth Fotis 
 she be never so bravely attyred with gold, silkes, pretious 
 stones, and other rich and gorgeous ornaments, yet if her hair 
 be not curiously set forth shee cannot seeme faire. But in my 
 Fotis, her garments unbrast and unlaste increased her beauty, 
 her haire hanged about her shoulders, and was dispersed 
 abroad upon her partlet, and in every part of her necke, how- 
 beit the greater part was trussed upon her pole with a lace. 
 Then I unable to sustaine the broiling heate that I was in, 
 ran upon her and kissed the place where she had thus laid 
 her haire. Wherat she turned her face, and cast her rolling 
 eyes upon me, saying, O Scholler, thou hast tasted now both 
 hony and gall, take heed that thy pleasure do not turne into 
 repentance. Tush (quoth I) my sweet heart, I am contented 
 for such another kisse to be broiled here upon this fire, wher- 
 withall I embraced and kissed her more often, and shee 
 embraced and kissed me likewise, and moreover her breath 
 smelled like Cinnamom, and the liquor of her tongue was 
 like unto sweet Nectar, wherewith when my mind was greatly 
 delighted I sayd, Behold Fotis I am yours, and shall pre- 
 sently dye unlesse you take pitty upon me. Which when I 
 had said she eftsoone kissed me, and bid me be of good 
 courage, and I will (quoth shee) satisfie your whole desire, 
 and it shall be no longer delayed than until night, when as 
 assure your selfe I will come and lie with you : wherfore go 
 your wayes and prepare your selfe, for I intend valiantly 
 and couragiously to encounter with you this night. 
 Thus when we had lovingly talked and reasoned 
 together, we departed for that time. 
 
 47
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 THE TENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Byrrhena sent victuals unto Apuleius, and 
 
 how hee talked with Milo of Diophanes, and 
 
 how he lay with Fotis. 
 
 HEN noone was come, Byrrhena sent unto 
 me a fat Pigge, five hennes, and a flagon 
 of old wine. Then I called Fotis and 
 sayd, Behold how Bacchus the egger and 
 stirrer of Venery, doth offer himself of 
 his owne accord, let us therefore drink up 
 this wine, that we may prepare our selves 
 and get us courage against soone, for 
 Venus wanteth no other provision than this, that the Lampe 
 may be all the night replenished with oyle, and the cups 
 with wine. The residue of the day I passed away at the 
 Bains and in banquetting, and towards evening I went to 
 supper, for I was bid by Milo, and so I sate downe at the 
 table, out of Pamphiles sight as much as I could, being 
 mindfull of the commandement of Byrrhena, and sometimes 
 I would cast myne eyes upon her as upon the furies of hell, 
 but I eftsoones turning my face behinde me, and beholding 
 my Fotis ministring at the table, was again refreshed and 
 made merry. And behold when Pamphiles did see the 
 candle standing on the table, she said, Verily wee shall have 
 much raine to morrow. Which when her husband did heare, 
 he demanded of her by what reason she knew it? Mary 
 (quoth shee) the light on the table sheweth the same. Then 
 Milo laughed and said, Verily we nourish a Sybel prophe- 
 sier, which by the view of a candle doth divine of Celestiall 
 things, and of the Sunne it selfe. Then I mused in my 
 minde and sayd unto Milo, Of truth it is a good experience 
 and proofe of divination. Neither is it any marvell, for 
 although this light is but a small light, and made by the 
 hands of men, yet hath it a remembrance of that great and 
 heavenly light, as of his parent, and doth shew unto us what 
 48
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 will happen in the Skies above. For I knew at Corinth a CHAPTER 
 certaine man of Assyria, who would give answers in every X 
 part of the City, and for the gaine of money would tell Ho\ 
 every man his fortune, to some he would tel the dayes of victuals S unto 
 their marriages, to others hee would tell when they should Apuleius, and 
 build, that their edifices should continue. To others, when how hee talk- 
 they should best goe about their affaires. To others, when e <| ^h "H 
 they should go by sea or land : to me, purposing to take my [e8 ' 
 
 journay hither, he declared many things strange and variable. 
 For sometimes hee sayd that I should winne glory enough, 
 sometimes he sayd I should write a great Historic : some- 
 times againe hee sayd that I should devise an incredible Tale : 
 and sometimes that I should make Bookes. Whereat Milo 
 laughed againe, and enquired of me, of what stature this 
 man of Assyria was, and what he was named. In faith 
 (quoth I) he is a tall man and somewhat blacke, and hee is 
 called Diophanes. Then sayd Milo, the same is he and no 
 other, who semblably hath declared many things here unto 
 us, whereby hee got and obtained great substance and 
 Treasure. 
 
 But the poore miser fell at length into the hands of un- 
 pittifull and cruell fortune : For beeing on a day amongst a 
 great assembly of people, to tell the simple sort their fortune, 
 a certaine Cobler came unto him, and desired him to tel when 
 it should be best for him to take his voyage, the which hee 
 promised to do: the Cobler opened his purse and told a 
 hundred pence to pay him for his paines. Whereupon came 
 a certaine young gentleman and tooke Diophanes by the 
 Garment. Then he turning himselfe, embraced and kissed 
 him, and desired the Gentleman, who was one of his 
 acquaintance, to sit downe by him: and Diophanes being 
 astonied with this sudden chance, forgot what he was doing, 
 and sayd, O deare friend you are heartily welcome, I pray 
 you when arrived you into these parts ? Then answered he, 
 I will tell you soone, but brother I pray you tell mee of 
 your comming from the Isle of Euboea, and how you sped 
 by the way ? Whereunto Diophanes this notable Assyrian 
 (not yet come unto his minde, but halfe amased) soone 
 answered and sayd, I would to God that all our enemies and 
 
 G 49
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER evill willers might fall into the like dangerous peregrination 
 and trouble. For the ship where we were in, after it was 
 B y r " by the waves of the seas and by the great tempests tossed 
 victuals S unto hither and thither, in great peril, and after that the mast 
 ApuleiuSj and and stern brake likewise in pieces, could in no wise be brought 
 how hee talk- to shore, but sunk into the water, and so we did swim, and 
 ed , with Milo narc fly escaped to land. And after that, whatsoever was 
 ies ' given unto us in recompence of our losses, either by the pitty 
 of strangers, or by the benevolence of our friends, was taken 
 away from us by theeves, whose violence when my brother 
 Arisuatus did assay to resist, hee was cruelly murthered by 
 them before my face. These things when he had sadly 
 declared, the Cobler tooke up his money againe which he had 
 told out to pay for the telling of his fortune, and ran away. 
 Then Diophanes comming to himselfe perceived what he 
 had done, and we all that stood by laughed greatly. But 
 that (quoth Milo) which Diophanes did tell unto you Lucius, 
 that you should be happy and have a prosperous journey, was 
 only true. Thus Milo reasoned with me. But I was not a little 
 sorry that I had traind him into such a vaine of talke, that 
 I lost a good part of the night, and the sweete pleasure 
 thereof : but at length I boldly said to Milo, Let Diophanes 
 fare well with his evill fortune, and get againe that which 
 he lost by sea and land, for I verily do yet feel the weari- 
 nesse of my travell, wherefore I pray you pardon mee, and 
 give me licence to depart to bed : wherewithall I rose up 
 and went unto my chamber, where I found all things finely 
 prepared, and the children s bed (because they should not 
 heare what we did in the night) was removed far off without 
 the chamber doore. The table was all covered with those 
 meats that were left at supper, the cups were filled halfe 
 full with water, to temper and delay the wines, the flaggon 
 stood ready prepared, and there lacked nothing that was 
 necessary for the preparation of Venus. And when I was 
 entring into the bed, behold my Fotis (who had brought 
 her mistresse to bed) came in and gave me roses and floures 
 which she had in her apron, and some she threw about the 
 bed, and kissed mee sweetly, and tied a garland about my 
 head, and bespred the chamber with the residue. Which 
 50
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 when shee had done, shee tooke a cup of wine and delaied CHAPTER 
 it with hot water, and profered it me to drinke ; and before X 
 
 I had drunk off all she pulled it from my mouth, and then ^ W yr l 
 . j ii J . j .1 . rti ena sent 
 
 gave it me againe, and in this manner we emptied the pot victuals unto 
 
 twice or thrice together. Thus when I had wel replenished Apuleius, and 
 my self with wine, and was now ready unto Venery not h w hee talk- 
 
 onely in minde but also in body, I removed my cloathes, ^JT! 
 
 j i 4. T? i- 4. t.' T j f^ of Diophanes, 
 
 and shewing to .botis my great impatiencie I sayd, O my e c 
 
 sweet heart take pitty upon me and helpe me, for as you 
 see I am now prepared unto the battell, which you your selfe 
 did appoint : for after that I felt the first Arrow of cruell 
 Cupid within my breast, I bent my bow very strong, and 
 now feare (because it is bended so hard) lest my string 
 should breake : but that thou mayst the better please me, 
 undresse thy haire and come and embrace mee lovingly : 
 whereupon she made no long delay, but set aside all the 
 meat and wine, and then she unapparelled her selfe, and 
 unattyred her haire, presenting her amiable body unto me in 
 manner of faire Venus, when shee goeth under the waves of 
 the sea. Now (quoth shee) is come the houre of justing, 
 now is come the time of warre, wherefore shew thy selfe like 
 unto a man, for I will not retyre, I will not fly the field, 
 see then thou bee valiant, see thou be couragious, since there 
 is no time appointed when our skirmish shall cease. In 
 saying these words she came to me to bed, and embraced 
 me sweetly, and so wee passed all the night in pastime and 
 pleasure, and never slept until it was day : but wee would 
 eftsoones refresh our wearinesse, and provoke our plea- 
 sure, and renew our venery by drinking of wine. In 
 which sort we pleasantly passed away many 
 other nights following. 
 
 51
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius supped with Byrrhena, and what a 
 strange tale Bellephoron told at the table. 
 
 T fortuned on a day, that Byrrhena desired 
 me earnestly to suppe with her ; and shee 
 would in no wise take any excusation. 
 Whereupon I went unto Fotis, to aske 
 counsell of her as some Divine, who al- 
 though she was unwilling that I should 
 depart one foot from her company, yet 
 at length shee gave me license to bee 
 absent for a while, saying, Beware that you tarry not long 
 at supper there, for there is a rabblement of common 
 Barrettors and disturbers of the publique peace, that rove 
 about in the streets and murther all such as they may take, 
 neither can law nor justice redresse them in any case. And 
 they will the sooner set upon you, by reason of your comeli- 
 nesse and audacity, in that you are not afeard at any time 
 to walke in the streets. 
 
 Then I answered and sayd, Have no care of me Fotis, for 
 I esteeme the pleasure which I have with thee, above the 
 dainty meates that I eat abroad, and therefore I will returne 
 againe quickly. Neverthelesse I minde not to come with- 
 out company, for I have here my sword, wherby I hope to 
 defend my selfe. 
 
 And so in this sort I went to supper, and behold I found 
 at Byrrhena's house a great company of strangers, and of 
 the chiefe and principall of the city : the beds made of 
 Citron and Ivory, were richly adorned and spred with cloath 
 of gold, the Cups were garnished pretiously, and there were 
 divers other things of sundry fashion, but of like estimation 
 and price : here stood a glasse gorgeously wrought, there 
 stood another of Christall finely painted. There stood a 
 cup of glittering silver, and here stood another of shining 
 gold, and here was another of amber artificially carved and 
 52
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 made with pretious stones. Finally, there was all things CHAPTER 
 that might be desired : the Servitors waited orderly at the XI 
 table in rich apparell, the pages arayed in silke robes, did HowApuleius 
 fill great gemmes and pearles made in forme of Cups, with ByrHfenjTand 
 excellent wine. Then one brought in Candles and Torches, whata strange 
 and when we were set downe and placed in order we began to tale Bellepho- 
 talke, to laugh, and to be merry. And Byrrhena spake unto ro t ld at the 
 me and sayd, I pray you Cousine how like you our countrey ? 
 Verily I thinke there is no other City which hath the like 
 Temples, Baynes, and other commodities which we have 
 here. Further we have abundance of houshold stuffe, we 
 have pleasure, we have ease, and when the Roman merchants 
 arrive in this City they are gently and quietly entertained, 
 and all that dwell within this province (when they purpose 
 to solace and repose themselves) do come to this city. 
 Whereunto I answered, Verily (quoth I) you tell truth, for 
 I can finde no place in all the world which I like better than 
 this, but I greatly feare the blind inevitable trenches of 
 witches, for they say that the dead bodies are digged out 
 of their graves, and the bones of them that are burnt be 
 stollen away, and the toes and fingers of such as are slaine 
 be cut off, and afflict and torment such as live. And the 
 old Witches as soone as they heare of the death of any 
 person, do forthwith goe and uncover the hearse and spoyle 
 the corpse, to worke their inchantments. Then another 
 sitting at the table spake and sayd, In faith you say true, 
 neither yet do they spare or favor the living. For I know 
 one not farre hence that was cruelly handled by them, who 
 being not contented with cutting off his nose, did likewise 
 cut off his ears, whereat all the people laughed heartily, 
 and looked upon one that sate at the boords end, who being 
 amased at their gazing, and somewhat angry withall, would 
 have risen from the Table, had not Byrrhena spake unto 
 him and sayd, I pray thee friend Bellepheron sit still, and 
 according to thy accustomed curtesie declare unto us the 
 losse of thy nose and eares, to the end that my cousin Lucius 
 may be delighted with the pleasantnes of the tale. To 
 whom he answered, Madam you in the office of your bounty 
 shall prevaile heerein, but the insolencie of some is not to be 
 
 53
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER supported. This hee spake very angerly : But Byrrhena 
 XI was earnest upon him, and assured him hee should have no 
 HowApulems wron g a anv m ans hand. Whereby he was inforced to 
 BvrrhenaTand declare the same, and so lapping up the end of the Table 
 whata strange cloath and carpet together, hee leaned with his elbow there- 
 tale Bellepho- on, and held out the three forefingers of his right hand in 
 ron told at the m anner of an Orator, and sayd, When I was a young man 
 I went unto a certaine city called Milet, to see the games 
 and triumphs there named Olympia, and being desirous to 
 come into this famous province, after that I had travelled 
 over all Thessaly, I fortuned in an evill houre to come to the 
 City Larissa, where while I went up and down to view the 
 streets to seeke some reliefe for my poore estate (for I had 
 spent all my money) I espied a tall old man standing upon 
 a stone in the middest of the market place, crying with a 
 loud voice and saying, That if any man would watch a dead 
 corps that night hee should bee reasonably rewarded for his 
 paines. Which when I heard, I sayd to one that passed by, 
 What is here to doe ? Doe dead men use to run away in 
 this Countrey ? Then answered he, Hold your peace, for 
 you are but a Babe and a stranger here, and not without 
 cause you are ignorant how you are in Thessaly, where the 
 women Witches do bite off by morsels the flesh of the faces 
 of dead men, and thereby worke their sorceries and inchant- 
 ments. Then quoth I, In good fellowship tell me the order 
 of this custody, and how it is. Marry (quoth he) first you 
 must watch all the night, with your eyes bent continually upon 
 the Corps, never looking off, nor moving aside. For these 
 Witches doe turn themselves into sundry kindes of beasts, 
 whereby they deceive the eyes of all men, sometimes they 
 are transformed into birds, somtimes into Dogs and Mice, 
 and sometimes into flies. Moreover, they will charme the 
 keepers of the corps asleepe, neither can it be declared what 
 meanes and shifts these wicked women do use, to bring their 
 purpose to passe : and the reward for such dangerous watch- 
 ing is no more than foure or sixe shillings. But hearken 
 further (which I had well nigh forgotten) if the keeper of 
 the dead body doe not render on the morning following, the 
 corps whole and sound as he received the same, he shall be 
 54
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 punished in this sort: That is, if the corps bee diminished CHAPTER 
 or spoyled in any part of his face, hands or toes, the same x * 
 shall be diminished and spoyled in the keeper. Which HowApuleius 
 when I heard I tooke a good heart, and went unto the Crier ByrrhenjTand 
 and bid him cease, for I would take the matter in hand, and whata strange 
 so I demanded what I should have. Marry (quoth he) a tale Bellepho- 
 thousand pence : but beware I say young man, that you do r on told at the 
 wel defend the dead corps from the wicked witches, for hee 
 was the son of one of the chiefest of the city. Tush (sayd 
 I) you speake you cannot tell what, behold I am a man 
 made all of iron, and have never desire to sleepe, and am 
 more quicke of sight than Lynx or Argus. I had scarse 
 spoken these words, when he tooke me by the hand and 
 brought mee to a certaine house, the gate whereof was closed 
 fast, so that I went through the wicket, then he brought 
 me into a chamber somewhat darke, and shewed me a Matron 
 cloathed in mourning vesture, and weeping in lamentable 
 wise. And he spake unto her and said, Behold here is one 
 that will enterprise to watch the corpes of your husband 
 this night. Which when she heard she turned her blubbered 
 face covered with haire unto me, saying, I pray you young 
 man take good heed, and see well to your office. Have no 
 care (quoth I) so you will give mee any thing above that 
 which is due to be given. Wherewith shee was contented, 
 and then she arose and brought me into a chamber whereas 
 the corps lay covered with white sheets, and shee called 
 seven witnesses, before whom she shewed the dead body, and 
 every part and parcell thereof, and with weeping eyes desired 
 them all to testifie the matter. Which done, shee sayd these 
 words of course as follow : Behold, his nose is whole, his 
 eyes safe, his eares without scarre, his lips untouched, and 
 his chin sound : All which was written and noted in tables, 
 and subscribed with the hands of witnesses to confirme the 
 same. Which done I sayd unto the Matron, Madam I pray 
 you that I may have all things here necessary. What is 
 that? (quoth she). Marry (quoth I) a great lampe with oyle, 
 pots of wine, and water to delay the same, and some other 
 drinke and dainty dish that was left at supper. Then she 
 shaked her head and sayd, Away foole as thou art, thinkest 
 
 55
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER thou to play the glutton here, and to looke for dainty meats 
 where so long time hath not been scene any smoke at all ? 
 low Apulems c ommes t thou hither to eat, where we should weepe and 
 ByrrheruTand lament? And therewithall she turned backe, and commanded 
 whata strange her maiden Myrrhena to deliver me a lampe with oyle, which 
 tale Bellepho- when shee had done they closed the chamber doore and 
 ron told at the departed. Now when I was alone, I rubbed myne eyes, and 
 armed my selfe to keep the corpes, and to the intent I would 
 not sleepe, I began to sing, and so I passed the time till it 
 was midnight, when as behold there crept in a Wesel into 
 the chamber, and she came against me and put me in very 
 great feare, insomuch that I marvelled greatly at the audacity 
 of so little a beast. To whom I sayd, Get thee hence thou 
 whore and high thee to thy fellowes, lest thou feele my 
 fingers. Why wilt thou not go ? Then incontinently she 
 ranne away, and when she was gon, I fell on the ground so 
 fast asleepe, that Apollo himself could not discerne whether 
 of us two was the dead corps, for I lay prostrat as one with- 
 out life, and needed a keeper likewise. At length the cockes 
 began to crow, declaring that it was day : wherewithall I 
 awaked, and being greatly afeard, ran to the dead body with 
 the lamp in my hand, and I viewed him round about : and 
 immediatly came in the Matron weeping with her Witnesses, 
 and ran to the corps, and eftsoons kissing him, turned his 
 body and found no part diminished. Then she willed Philo- 
 despotus her steward to pay me my wages forthwith. Which 
 when he had done he sayd, We thanke you gentle young 
 man for your paines, and verily for your diligence herein 
 wee wil account you as one of the family. Whereunto I 
 (being joyous of my unhoped gaine, and ratling my money 
 in my hand) did answer, I pray you Madam esteeme me as 
 one of your Servants, and if you want my service at any 
 time, I am at your commandement. I had not fully declared 
 these words, when as behold all the servants of the house 
 were assembled with weapons to drive me away, one buffeted 
 me about the face, another about the shoulders, some strook 
 me in the sides, some kicked me, and some tare my garments, 
 and so I was handled amongst them and driven from the 
 house, as the proud young man Adonis who was torne by 
 56
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 a Bore. And when I was come into the next street, I mused CHAPTER 
 with my selfe, and remembred myne unwise and unadvised XI 
 words which I had spoken, whereby I considered that I had HowApuleius 
 deserved much more punishment, and that I was worthily ByShel ^d 
 beaten for my folly. And by and by the corps came forth, whata strange 
 which because it was the body of one of the chiefe of the city, tale Bellepho- 
 was carried in funeral pompe round about the market place, ron told at the 
 according to the right of the Countrey there. And forth- teble 
 with stepped out an old man weeping and lamenting, and 
 ranne unto the Biere and embraced it, and with deepe sighes 
 and sobs cried out in this sort, O masters, I pray you by the 
 faith which you professe, and by the duty which you owe 
 unto the weale publique, take pitty and mercy upon this 
 dead corps, who is miserably murdered, and doe vengeance on 
 this wicked and cursed woman his wife which hath com- 
 mitted this fact : for it is shee and no other which hath poy- 
 soned her husband my sisters sonne, to the intent to main- 
 taine her whoredome, and to get his heritage. In this sort the 
 old man complained before the face of all people. Then they 
 (astonied at these sayings, and because the thing seemed to 
 be true) cried out, Burne her, burne her, and they sought for 
 stones to throw at her, and willed the boyes in the street to 
 doe the same. But shee weeping in lamentable wise, did sweare 
 by all the gods, that shee was not culpable of this crime. 
 No quoth the old man, here is one sent by the providence of 
 God to try out the matter, even Zachlas an Egypptian, who 
 is the most principall Prophecier in all this countrey, and 
 who was hired of me for money to reduce the soule of this 
 man from hell, and to revive his body for the triall hereof. 
 And therewithall he brought forth a certaine young man 
 cloathed in linnen rayment, having on his feet a paire of 
 pantofiles, and his crowne shaven, who kissed his hands and 
 knees, saying, O priest have mercy, have mercy I pray thee 
 by the Celestiall Planets, by the Powers infernall, by the 
 vertue of the naturall elements, by the silences of the night, 
 by the buildings of Swallows nigh unto the towne Copton, 
 by the increase of the floud Nilus, by the secret mysteries of 
 Memphis, and by the instruments and trumpets of the Isle 
 Pharos, have mercy I say, and call againe to life this dead 
 H 57
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER body, and make that his eyes which be closed and shut, may 
 
 XI be open and see. Howbeit we meane not to strive against the 
 
 How Apulems j aw Q f d ea th 5 neither intend wee to deprive the earth of his 
 
 BvTrhenzTand "g nt ? but to tne en( * this ^ ac * ma y ^ e knowne, we crave but 
 what a strange a small time and space of life. Whereat this Prophet was 
 tale Bellepho- mooved, and tooke a certaine herbe and layd it three times 
 rou told at the U p On the mouth of the dead, and he took another and laid it 
 upon his breast in like sort. Thus when hee had done hee 
 turned himselfe into the East, and made certaine Orisons 
 unto the Sunne, which caused all the people to marvell 
 greatly, and to looke for this strange miracle that should 
 happen. Then I pressed in amongst them nigh unto the 
 biere, and got upon a stone to see this mysterie, and behold 
 incontinently the dead body began to receive spirit, his prin- 
 cipal! veines did moove, his life came again, and he held up 
 his head and spake in this sort : Why doe you call mee backe 
 againe to this transitorie life, that have already tasted of the 
 water of Lethe, and likewise beene in the deadly den of Styx ? 
 Leave off I pray, leave off, and let me lie in quiet rest. When 
 these words were uttered by the dead corps, the Prophet drew 
 nigh unto the Biere and sayd, I charge thee to tell before 
 the face of all the people here, the occasion of thy death : 
 What, dost thou thinke that I cannot by my conjurations 
 call up the dead, and by my puissance torment thy body ? 
 Then the corps moved his head again, and made reverence 
 unto the people, and sayd, Verily I was poysoned by the 
 meanes of my wicked wife, and so thereby yeelded my bed 
 unto an adulterer. Whereat his wife taking present audacity, 
 and reproving his sayings, with a cursed minde did deny it. 
 The people were bent against her sundry wayes, some thought 
 best that shee should bee buried alive with her husband : but 
 some said that there ought no credit to be given to the dead 
 body. Which opinion was cleane taken away, by the words 
 which the corps spake againe and sayd, Behold, I will give 
 you some evident token, which never yet any other man 
 knew, whereby you shall perceive that I declare the truth : 
 and by and by he pointed towards me that stood on the 
 stone, and sayd, When this the good Gardian of my body 
 watched me diligently in the night, and that the wickeu 1 
 58
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 Witches and Enchantresses came into the chamber to spoyle CHAPTER 
 mee of my limbes, and to bring such their purpose to passe XI 
 did transforme themselves into the shape of beasts ; and How Apuleius 
 
 uec 
 
 when as they could in no wise deceive or beguile his vigilant 
 eyes, they cast him into so dead and sound a sleepe, that by wh arange 
 their witchcraft he seemed without spirit or life. After this tale Bellepho- 
 they called me by my name, and did never cease til as the rou to ^ d at *he 
 cold members of my body began by little and little and little 
 to revive. Then he being of more lively soule, howbeit 
 buried in sleep, in that he and I were named by one name, 
 and because he knew not that they called me, rose up first, 
 and as one without sence or perseverance passed by the dore 
 fast closed, unto a certain hole, whereas the Witches cut off 
 first his nose, and then his ears, and so that was done to him 
 which was appointed to be done to me. And that such 
 their subtilty might not be perceived, they made him a like 
 paire of eares and nose of wax : wherfore you may see that 
 the poore miser for lucre of a little mony sustained losse of 
 his members. Which when he had sayd I was greatly 
 astonied, and minding to prove whether his words were true 
 or no, put my hand to my nose, and my nose fell off, and put 
 my hand to my ears and my ears fell off. Wherat all the 
 people wondred greatly, and laughed me to scorne : but I 
 beeing strucken in a cold sweat, crept between their legs for 
 shame and escaped away. So I disfigured returned home 
 again e, and covered the losse of myne ears with my long hair, 
 and glewed this clout to my face to hide my shame. As soon 
 as Telephoron had tolde his tale, they which sate at the table 
 replenished with wine, laughed heartily. And while they 
 drank one to another, Birrhena spake to me and said, 
 From the first foundation of this city we have a custome to 
 celebrate the festivall day of the god Risus, and to-morrow 
 is the feast, when as I pray you to bee present, to set out the 
 same more honourably, and I would with all my heart that 
 you could find or devise somewhat of your selfe, that might 
 be in honor of so great a god. To whom I answered, Verily 
 cousin I will do as you command me, and right glad would 
 I be, if I might invent any laughing or merry matter to 
 please or satisfie Risus withall. Then I rose from the table 
 
 59
 
 THE SECOND BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER and took leave of Byrrhena and departed. And when I came 
 XI into the first street my torch went out, that with great pain 
 How Apuleius j COU 1J scarse get home, by reason it was so dark, for fear of 
 BvrrhenfTand stumbling : and when I was wel nigh come unto the dore, 
 whata strange behold I saw three men of great stature, heaving and lifting 
 tale Bellepho- at Milo^s gates to get in : and when they saw me they were 
 ron told at the nothing afeard, but assaied with more force to breake down 
 the dores, whereby they gave me occasion, and not without 
 cause, to thinke that they were strong theeves. Whereupon 
 I by and by drew out my sword, which I carried for that 
 purpose under my cloak, and ran in amongst them, and 
 wounded them in such sort that they fell downe dead before 
 my face. Thus when I had slaine them all, I knocked 
 sweating and breathing at the doore til Fotis let me 
 in. And then full weary with the slaughter of those 
 Theeves, like Hercules when he fought against 
 the king Gerion, I went to my chamber 
 and layd me down to sleep.
 
 THE 
 
 THIRD BOOKE 
 
 of LUCIUS APULEIUS of 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE
 
 THE THIRD BOOKE 
 
 THE TWELFTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was taken and put in prison 
 for murther. 
 
 HEN morning was come, and that I was 
 awaked from sleep, my heart burned sore 
 with remembrance of the murther which 
 I had committed the night before : and I 
 rose and sate downe on the side of the 
 bed with my legges acrosse, and wringing 
 my hands, I weeped in most miserable sort. 
 For I imagined with my selfe, that I was 
 brought before the Judge in the Judgment place, and that he 
 awarded sentence against me, and that the hangman was 
 ready to leade me to the gallows. And further I imagined 
 and sayd, Alasse what Judge is he that is so gentle or 
 benigne, that will thinke that I am unguilty of the slaughter 
 and murther of these three men. Howbeit the Assyrian 
 Diophanes did firmely assure unto me, that my peregrination 
 and voyage hither should be prosperous. But while I did 
 thus unfold my sorrowes, and greatly bewail my fortune, be- 
 hold I heard a great noyse and cry at the dore, and in came 
 the magistrates and Officers, who commanded two Sergeants 
 to binde and leade me to prison. Whereunto I was willingly 
 obedient, and as they led me through the street, all the City 
 gathered together and followed me, and although I looked 
 alwayes on the ground for very shame, yet sometimes I cast 
 my head aside, and marvelled greatly, that among so many 
 
 63
 
 THE THIRD BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER thousand people there was not one but laughed exceedingly. 
 
 XII Finally, when they had brought me through all the streets of 
 
 ? OV t^ PUleiU | ^ ne c ity, in manner of those that go in procession, and do 
 
 put in prison sacr> ifi ce to mitigate the ire of the gods, they placed mee in 
 
 for murther the Judgement hall, before the seat of the Judges : and 
 
 after that the Crier had commanded all men to keepe silence, 
 
 the people desired the Judges to give sentence in the 
 
 great Theatre, by reason of the great multitude that was 
 
 there, whereby they were in danger of stifling. And behold 
 
 the prease of people increased stil, some climed to the top 
 
 of the house, some got upon the beames, some upon the 
 
 Images, and some thrust their heads through the windowes, 
 
 little regarding the dangers they were in, so they might 
 
 see me. 
 
 Then the officers brought mee forth openly into the 
 middle of the hall, that every man might behold me. And 
 after that the Crier had made a noyse, and willed all such as 
 would bring any evidence against me, should come forth, 
 there stept out an old man with a glasse of water in his 
 hand, dropping out softly, who desired that hee might 
 have liberty to speake during the time of the continu- 
 ance of the water. Which when it was granted, 
 he began his oration in this sort. 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was accused by an old man, and 
 how hee answered for himselfe. 
 
 MOST reverend and just Judges, the thing 
 which I purpose to declare unto you is no 
 small matter, but toucheth the estate and 
 tranquility of this whole City, and the 
 punishment thereof may be a right good 
 example to others. Wherefore I pray you 
 most venerable Fathers, to whom and to 
 every of whom it doth appertain, to pro- 
 vide for the dignity and safety of the Commonweale, that 
 64
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 you would in no wise suffer this wicked Homicide, embrued CHAPTER 
 with the bloud of so many murthered citisens, to escape un- 
 punished. And thinke you not that I am moved hereunto How 
 b 
 
 by envy or hatred, but by reason of my office, in that I am man 
 
 captain of the night Watch, and because no man alive should and how hee 
 accuse mee to bee remisse in the same, I wil declare all the answered for 
 whole matter, orderly as it was done this last night. himselfe 
 
 This night past, when as at our accustomed houre I dili- 
 gently searched every part of the city, Behold, I fortuned 
 to espy this cruell young man drawing out his sword against 
 three Citisens, and after a long combat foughten betweene 
 them, he murthered one after another miserably: which when 
 he had done, moved in his conscience at so great a crime hee 
 ran away, and aided by reason of darknes, slipt into a house, 
 and there lay hidden all night, but by the providence of the 
 Gods, which suffereth no heynous offence to passe unpunished, 
 hee was taken by us this morning before he escaped any 
 further, and so brought hither to your honourable presence 
 to receive his desert accordingly. 
 
 So have you here a guilty person, a culpable homicide, and 
 an accused stranger, wherefore pronounce yee judgement 
 against this man beeing an alien, when as you would most 
 severely and sharpely revenge such an offence found in a known 
 Citisen. In this sort the cruell accuser finished and ended 
 his terrible tale. Then the Crier commanded me to speake, 
 if I had any thing to say for my selfe, but I could in no wise 
 utter any word at all for weeping. And on the other side I 
 esteemed not so much his rigorous accusation, as I did con- 
 sider myne owne miserable conscience. Howbeit, beeing in- 
 spired by divine audacity, at length I gan say, Verily I know 
 that it is an hard thing for him that is accused to have slaine 
 three persons, to perswade you that he is not innocent, al- 
 though he should declare the whole truth, and confesse the 
 matter how it was indeed, but if your honours will vouchsafe 
 to give me audience, I will shew you, that if I bee condemned 
 to die, I have not deserved it as myne owne desert, but that 
 I was mooved by fortune and reasonable cause to doe that 
 fact. For returning somewhat late from supper yester night 
 (beeing well tipled with wine, which I will not deny) and 
 
 I 65
 
 THE THIRD BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER approehing nigh to my common lodging, which was in the 
 Xni house of one Milo a Citisen of this city, I fortuned to espy 
 How Apuleius j.j iree great theeves attempting to break down his walls and 
 was accused by .1 i i . A j u tu 
 
 an old man g a tes, and to open the locks to enter in. And when they 
 
 and how hee had removed the dores out of the hookes, they consulted 
 answered for amongst themselves, how they would handle such as they 
 himselfe found in the house. And one of them being of more courage, 
 and of greater stature than the rest, spake unto his fellows 
 and sayd, Tush you are but boyes, take mens hearts unto 
 you, and let us enter into every part of the house, and such 
 as we finde asleep let us kill, and so by that meanes we shall 
 escape without danger. Verily ye Judges, I confesse that I 
 drew out my sword against those three Citizens, but I 
 thought it was the office and duty of one that beareth good 
 will to this Aveale publique, so to doe, especially since they 
 put me in great fear, and assayed to rob and spoyl my friend 
 Milo. But when those cruell and terrible men would in no 
 case run away, nor feare my naked sword, but boldly resist 
 against me, I ran upon them and fought valiantly. One of 
 them which was the Captaine invaded me strongly, and drew 
 me by the haire with both his hands, and began to beat me 
 with a great stone : but in the end I proved the hardier man, 
 and threw him downe at my feet and killed him. I tooke 
 likewise the second that clasped about my legs and bit me, 
 and slew him also. And the third that came running 
 violently against me, after that I had strucken him under 
 the stomacke fell downe dead. Thus when I had delivered 
 my selfe, the house, myne Hoste, and all his family from 
 this present danger, I thought that I should not onely escape 
 unpunished, but also have some great reward of the city for 
 my paines. 
 
 Moreover, I that have alwayes beene cleare and unspotted 
 of crime, and that have esteemed myne innocency above all 
 the treasure of the world, can finde no reasonable cause why 
 upon myne accusation I should be condemned to die, since 
 first I was mooved to set upon the theeves by just occasion. 
 Secondly, because there is none that can affirme, that there 
 hath been at any time either grudge or hatred between us. 
 Thirdly, we were men meere strangers, and of no acquaint- 
 66 *
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 ance. Last of all, no man can proove that I committed that 
 fact for lucre or gaine. 
 
 When I had ended my words in this sort, behold, I weeped 
 againe pitteously, and holding up my hands I prayed all the 
 people by the mercy of the Commonweale, and for the love 
 of my poore infants and children, to shew me some pitty and 
 favour. And when their hearts were somewhat relented and 
 mooved by my lamentable teares, I called all the gods to 
 witnesse that I was unguilty of the crime, and so to their 
 divine providence I committed my present estate, but turn- 
 ing my selfe againe, I perceived that all the people laughed 
 exceedingly, and especially my good friend and host Milo. 
 Then thought I with my selfe, Alasse where is faith ? Where 
 is remorse of conscience ? Behold, I am condemned to die as 
 
 a murtherer, for the safegard of myne Host Milo and his 
 Family. Yet is he not contented with that, but like- 
 wise laugheth me to sconie, when otherwise he 
 should comfort and helpe mee. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XIII 
 
 How Apuleius 
 was accused by 
 an old man, 
 and how hee 
 answered for 
 himselfe 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was accused by two women, and 
 
 how the slaine bodies were found blowne 
 
 bladders. 
 
 HEN this was done, out came a woman 
 weeping in the middle of the Theatre 
 arrayed in mourning vesture, and bearing 
 a childe in her armes. And after her 
 came an old woman in ragged robes, cry- 
 ing and howling likewise : and they 
 brought with them the Olive boughs 
 wherewith the three slain bodies were 
 covered on the Beere, and cried out on this manner: O 
 right Judges, we pray you by the justice and humanity 
 which is in you, to have mercy upon these slaine persons, 
 and succour our Widowhood and losse of our deare hus- 
 bands, and especially this poore Infant, who is now an
 
 THE THIRD BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER Orphan, and deprived of all good fortune: and execute your 
 XIV justice by order and law, upon the bloud of this Theefe, 
 low Apuleius w j lo j g ne occas ion of all our sorrowes. When they had 
 wasaccuse^^y S p O k en |; nese W ords, one of the most antient Judges did rise 
 and how the and say, Touching this murther, which deserveth great 
 slaine bodies punishment, this malefactor himselfe cannot deny, but our 
 were found duty is to enquire and try out, whether he had no Coadjutors 
 W ders a " * helpe him. For it is not likely that one man alone could 
 kill three such great and valiant persons, wherefore the truth 
 must be tried out by the racke, and so wee shall learne what 
 other companions he hath, and root out the nest of these 
 mischievous murtherers. And there was no long delay, for 
 according unto the custome of Grecia, the fire, the wheele, 
 and many other torments were brought in. Then my sorrow 
 encreased or rather doubled, in that I could not end my life 
 with whole and unperished members. And by and by the old 
 woman, who troubled all the Court with her howling, desired 
 the Judges, that before I should be tormented on the racke, I 
 might uncover the bodies which I had slaine, that every man 
 might see their comely shape and youthfull beauty, and that 
 I might receive condigne and worthy punishment, according 
 to the quality of my offence : and therewithall shee made a 
 signe of joy. Then the Judge commanded me forthwith to 
 discover the bodies of the slain, lying upon the beere, with 
 myne owne hands: but when I refused a good space, by reason 
 I would not make my fact apparant to the eies of all men, 
 the Sergeants charged me by commandement of the Judges, 
 and thrust me forward to do the same. I then being forced 
 by necessity, though it were against my wil, uncovered their 
 bodies : but O good Lord what a strange sight did I see, 
 what a monster ? What sudden change of all my sorrows ? 
 I seemed as though I were one of the house of Proserpina 
 and of the family of death, insomuch that I could not suffi- 
 ciently expresse the forme of this new sight, so far was I 
 amased and astonied therat : for why, the bodies of the three 
 slain men were no bodies, but three blown bladders mangled 
 in divers places, and they seemed to be wounded in those 
 parts where I remembred I wounded the theeves the night 
 before. Wherat the people laughed exceedingly : some 
 68
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 rejoyced marvellously at the remembrance thereof, some held CHAPTER 
 
 their stomacks that aked with joy, but every man delighted Xiv 
 
 at this passing sport, so passed out of the theatre. But I Apuleius 
 
 from the time that I uncovered the bodies stood stil as cold two^wome^ 
 
 as ice, no otherwise than as the other Statues and images and how the 
 
 there, neither came I into my right sences, until such time slaine bodies 
 
 as Milo my Host came and tooke mee by the hand, and with ^j ere f ?'j in 1 d 
 
 civil violence lead me away weeping and sobbing, whether I V * 
 
 would or no. And because that I might be seene, he brought 
 
 mee through many blinde wayes and lanes to his house, where 
 
 he went about to comfort me, beeing sad and yet fearefull, 
 
 with gentle entreaty of talke. But he could in no wise 
 
 mitigate my impatiency of the injury which I conceived 
 
 within my minde. And behold, by and by the Magistrates 
 
 and Judges with their ensignes entred into the house, and 
 
 endeavoured to pacific mee in this sort, saying, O Lucius, we 
 
 are advertised of your dignity, and know the genealogie 
 
 of your antient linage, for the nobility of your Kinne doe 
 
 possesse the greatest part of all this Province : and thinke 
 
 not that you have suffered the thing wherfore you weepe, to 
 
 any your reproach and ignominy, but put away all care and 
 
 sorrow out of your minde. For this day, which we celebrate 
 
 once a yeare in honour of the god Risus, is alwaies renowned 
 
 with some solemne novel, and the god doth continually 
 
 accompany with the inventor therof, and wil not suffer that 
 
 he should be sorrowfull, but pleasantly beare a joyfull face. 
 
 And verily all the City for the grace that is in you, intend 
 
 to reward you with great honours, and to make you a Patron. 
 
 And further, that your statue or image may be set up for a 
 
 perpetuall remembrance. 
 
 To whom I answered, As for such benefits as I have re- 
 ceived of the famous City of Thessaly, I yeeld and render 
 most entire thanks, but as touching the setting up of any 
 statues or Images, I would wish that they should bee reserved 
 for myne Auntients, and such as are more worthy than I. 
 
 And when I had spoken these words somewhat gravely, 
 and shewed my selfe more merry than I was before, the 
 Judges and magistrates departed, and I reverendly tooke my 
 leave of them, and bid them farewell. And behold, by and 
 
 69
 
 CHAPTER 
 XIV 
 
 How Apuleius 
 was accused by 
 two women, 
 and how the 
 slaine bodies 
 were t ; found; 
 ( blowne blad- 
 ders 
 
 THE THIRD BOOKE 
 
 by there came one running unto me in haste and sayd, Sir, 
 your cousin Byrrhena desireth you to take the paines accord- 
 ing to your promise yester night, to come to supper, for it is 
 ready. But I greatly fearing to goe any more to her house 
 in the night, said unto the messenger, My friend I pray you 
 tell to my cousine your mistresse, that I would willingly be 
 at her commandement, but for breaking my troth and credit. 
 For myne host Milo enforced me to assure him, and compelled 
 me by the feast of this present day, that I should not depart 
 from his company, wherefore I pray you to excuse me, and to 
 defer my promise to another time. 
 
 And while I was speaking these words, Milo tooke me by 
 the hand, and lead me towards the next Baine : but by the 
 way I went couching under him, to hide my selfe from the 
 sight of men, because I had ministred such an occasion of 
 laughter. And when I had washed and wiped my selfe, and 
 returned home againe, I never remembred any such thing, 
 so greatly was I abashed at the nodding and poynting of 
 every person. Then I went to supper with Milo, where God 
 
 wot we fared but meanly. Wherefore feigning that my 
 head did ake by reason of my sobbing and weep- 
 ing all the day, I desired license to depart to 
 my Chamber, and so I went to bed. 
 
 THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Fotis told to Apuleius, what witchcraft 
 her mistresse did use. 
 
 HEN I was a bed I began to call to minde 
 all the sorrowes and griefes that I was in 
 the day before, until! such time as my 
 love Fotis, having brought her mistresse 
 to sleepe, came into the chamber, not as 
 shee was wont to do, for she seemed 
 nothing pleasant neither in countenance 
 nor talke, but with sowre face and frown- 
 ing looke, gan speake in this sort, Verily I confesse that I 
 70
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 have been the occasion of all thy trouble this day, and there- CHAPTER 
 with shee pulled out a whippe from under her apron, and 
 
 delivered it unto mee saying, Revenge thy selfe of me mis- How ? otl f * old 
 
 i u i 4- 4-ui t Apulems, 
 
 chievous harlot, or rather slay me. what r w i tc h- 
 
 And thinke you not that I did willingly procure this craft her mis- 
 anguish and sorrow unto you, I call the gods to witnesse. tresse did 
 For I had rather myne owne body to perish, than that you use 
 should receive or sustaine any harme by my meanes, but that 
 which I did was by the commandement of another, and 
 wrought as I thought for some other, but behold the un- 
 lucky chance fortuned on you by my evill occasion. 
 
 Then I, very curious and desirous to know the matter, 
 answered, In faith (quoth I) this most pestilent and evill 
 favoured whip which thou hast brought to scourge thee 
 withal, shal first be broken in a thousand pieces, than it 
 should touch or hurt thy delicate and dainty skin. But I 
 pray you tell me, how have you been the cause and mean 
 of my trouble and sorow ? For I dare sweare by the love 
 that I beare unto you, and I will not be perswaded, though 
 you your selfe should endeavor the same, that ever you went 
 to trouble or harm me : perhaps sometimes you imagined an 
 evil thought in your mind, which afterwards you revoked, 
 but that is not to bee deemed as a crime. 
 
 When I had spoken these words, I perceived by Fotis eys 
 being wet with tears, and well nigh closed up, that shee had 
 a desire unto pleasure, and specially because shee embraced 
 and kissed me sweetly. And when she was somewhat restored 
 unto joy, she desired mee that shee might first shut the 
 chamber doore, least by the untemperance of her tongue, 
 in uttering any unfitting words, there might grow further 
 inconvenience. Wherewithall she barred and propped the 
 doore, and came to me againe, and embracing me lovingly 
 about the necke with both her armes, spake with a soft voice 
 and said, I doe greatly feare to discover the privities of this 
 house, and to utter the secret mysteries of my dame. But 
 I have such a confidence in you and in your wisedome, by 
 reason that you are come of so noble a line, and endowed 
 with so profound sapience, and further instructed in so many 
 holy and divine things, that you will faithfully keepe silence, 
 
 71
 
 THE THIRD BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER and that whatsoever I shall reveale or declare unto you, you 
 XV would close them within the bottome of your heart, and never 
 discover the same : for I ensure you, the love that I beare unto 
 what P witch- vou > enforceth mee to utter it. Now shal you know all the 
 craft her mis- estate of our house, now shal you know the hidden secrets of 
 tresse did my mistres, unto whome the powers of hel do obey, and by 
 use whom the celestial planets are troubled, the gods made 
 weake, and the elements subdued, neither is the violence of 
 her art in more strength and force, than when she espieth 
 some comly yong man that pleaseth her fancie, as often- 
 times it hapneth, for now she loveth one Boetian a fair and 
 beautiful person, on whom she employes al her sorcery and 
 enchantment, and I heard her say with mine own ears yester- 
 night, that if the Sun had not then presently gon downe, 
 and the night come to minister convenient time to worke 
 her magicall enticements, shee would have brought perpetuall 
 darkenes over all the world her selfe. And you shall know, 
 That when she saw yester night, this Beotian sitting at the 
 Barbers a polling, when she came from the Baines shee 
 secretly commanded me to gather some of the haire of his 
 head which lay dispersed upon the ground, and to bring it 
 home. Which when I had thought to have done the Barber 
 espied me, and by reason it was bruted throughout all the City 
 that we were Witches and Enchantresses, he cried out and 
 said, Wil you never leave off stealing of young mens haires ? 
 In faith I assure you, unlesse you cease your wicked Sorceries, 
 I will complaine to the Justices. Wherewithall he came 
 angerly towards me, and tooke away the haire which I had 
 gathered, out of my apron : which grieved me very much ; for 
 I knew my Mistresses manners, that she would not be con- 
 tented but beat me cruelly. 
 
 Wherefore I intended to runne away, but the remembrance 
 of you put alwayes that thought out of my minde, and so I 
 came homeward very sorrowfull : but because I would not 
 seeme to come to my mistresse sight with empty hands, I 
 saw a man shearing of blowne goat skinnes, and the hayre 
 which he had shorne off was yellow, and much resembled the 
 haire of the Beotian, and I tooke a good deale therof, and 
 colouring the matter, brought it to my mistresse. And so 
 72
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 when night came, before your returne from supper, she to CHAPTER 
 bring her purpose to passe, went up to a high Gallery of her 
 house, opening to the East part of the world, and preparing How Fotis told 
 her selfe according to her accustomed practise, shee gathered w j urt ^itch- 
 together all substance for fumigations, she brought forth craft her mis- 
 plates of mettal carved with strange characters, she prepared tresse did 
 the bones of such as were drowned by tempest in the seas, use 
 she made ready the members of dead men, as the nosethrils 
 and fingers, shee set out the lumps of flesh of such as were 
 hanged, the blood which she had reserved of such as were 
 slaine, and the jaw bones and teeth of wilde beasts, then she 
 said certaine charmes over the haire, and dipped it in divers 
 waters, as in Wei water, Cow milke, mountaine honey, and 
 other liquor. Which when she had done, she tied and 
 lapped it up together, and with many perfumes and smells 
 threw it into an hot fire to burn. Then by the great force 
 of this Sorcerie, and the violence of so many confections, 
 those bodies whose haire was burning in the fire, received 
 humane shape, and felt, heard, and walked: And smelling the 
 sent of their owne haire, came and rapped at our doores in 
 stead of Boetius. Then you being well tipled, and deceived 
 by the obscurity of the night, drew out your sword coura- 
 giously like furious Ajax, and killd not as he did, whole 
 heard of beasts, but three blowne skinnes, to the intent that 
 I after the slaughter of so many enemies, without effusion 
 of bloud might embrace and kisse not an homicide, but an 
 Utricide. 
 
 Thus when I was pleasantly mocked and taunted by Fotis, 
 I sayd unto her, Verily now may I for this atchieved enter- 
 prise be numbered as Hercules, who by his valiant prowesse 
 performed the twelve notable Labors, as Gerion with three 
 bodies, and as Cerberus with three heads, for I have slaine 
 three blown Goats skinnes. But to the end I may pardon 
 thee of that which thou hast committed, performe the thing 
 which I shall most earnestly desire of thee, that is, bring me 
 that I may see and behold when thy mistresse goeth about 
 any Sorcery or enchantment, and when she prayeth unto the 
 gods : For I am very desirous to learne that art, and as it 
 seemeth unto mee, thou thy selfe hath some experience in 
 
 K 73
 
 CHAPTER 
 XV 
 
 THE THIRD BOOKE 
 
 the same. For this I know and plainely feele, That where- 
 as I have alwayes yrked and loathed the embracings and 
 How Fotis told j ove Q f Matrones, I am so stricken and subdued with thy 
 what ^itch- shining eyes, ruddy cheekes, glittering haire, sweet cosses, 
 craft her mis- and lilly white paps, that I neither have minde to goe 
 tresse did home, nor to depart hence, but esteeme the pleasure which 
 use I shall have with thee this night, above all the joyes of the 
 world. Then (quoth shee) O my Lucius, how willing would 
 I be to fulfil your desire, but by reason shee is so hated, 
 she getteth her selfe into solitary places, and out of the 
 presence of every person, when she mindeth to work her 
 enchantments. Howbeit I regard more to gratifie your 
 request, than I doe esteeme the danger of my life : and when 
 I see opportunitie and time I wil assuredly bring you word, 
 so that you shal see all her enchantments, but alwayes upon 
 this condition, that you secretly keepe close such things as 
 are done. 
 
 Thus as we reasoned together the courage of Venus as- 
 sailed, as well our desires as our members, and so shee un- 
 rayed her selfe and came to bed, and we passed the night 
 in pastime and dalliance, till as by drowsie and un- 
 lusty sleep I was constrained to lie still. 
 
 THE SIXTEENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Fotis brought Apuleius to see her Mistresse 
 
 enchant. 
 
 N a day Fotis came running to me in great 
 feare, and said that her mistresse, to worke 
 her sorceries on such as shee loved, intended 
 the night following to transforme her 
 selfe into a bird, and to fly whither she 
 pleased. Wherefore she willed me privily 
 to prepare my self to see the same. And 
 when midnight came she led me softly 
 into a high chamber, and bid me look thorow the chink of 
 a doore : where first I saw how shee put of all her garments, 
 74
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 and took out of a certain coffer sundry kindes of Boxes, of the CHAPTER 
 which she opened one, and tempered the ointment therein XVI 
 with her fingers, and then rubbed her body therewith from , How , F tis 
 the sole of the foot to the crowne of the head, and when she le s to see 
 had spoken privily with her selfe, having the candle in her her Mistresse 
 hand, she shaked the parts of her body, and behold, I per- enchant 
 ceived a plume of feathers did burgen out, her nose waxed 
 crooked and hard, her nailes turned into clawes, and so she 
 became an Owle. Then she cried and screeched like a Bird 
 of that kinde, and willing to proove her force, mooved her 
 selfe from the ground by little and little, til at last she flew 
 quite away. 
 
 Thus by her sorcery shee transformed her body into what 
 shape she would. Which when I saw I was greatly astonied ; 
 and although I was inchanted by no kind of charme, yet 
 I thought that I seemed not to have the likenesse of Lucius, 
 for so was I banished from my sences, amazed in madnesse, 
 and so I dreamed waking, that I felt myne eyes, whether I 
 were asleepe or no. But when I was come againe to my 
 selfe, I tooke Fotis by the hand, and moved it to my face 
 and said, I pray thee while occasion doth serve, that I may 
 have the fruition of the fruits of my desire, and grant me 
 some of this oyntment. O Fotis I pray thee by thy sweet 
 paps, to make that in the great flames of my love I may bee 
 turned into a bird, so wil I ever hereafter be bound unto 
 you, and obedient to your commandement. Then said Fotis, 
 Wil you go about to deceive me now, and inforce me to 
 work my own sorow ? Are you in the mind that you wil not 
 tarry in Thessaly ? if you be a bird, where shal I seek you, 
 and when shal I see you ? Then answered I, God forbid 
 that I should commit such a crime, for though I could fly 
 in the aire as an Eagle, or though I were the messenger of 
 Jupiter, yet would I have recourse to nest with thee : and 
 I swear by the knot of thy amiable hair, that since the time 
 I first loved thee, I never fancied any other person : more- 
 over, this commeth to my minde, that if by vertue of the 
 oyntment I shall become an Owle, I will take heed that I 
 come nigh no mans house : for I am not to learn, how these 
 matrons would handle their lovers, if they knew that they 
 
 75
 
 THE THIRD BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER were transformed into Owles : Moreover, when they are 
 XVI taken in any place they are nayled upon posts, and so they 
 F <? tls are worthily rewarded, because it is thought that they bring 
 to see ev ^ fortune to the house. But I pray you (which I had 
 
 her Mistresse almost forgotten) tell me by what meanes when I am an 
 enchant Owle, I shall returne to my pristine shape, and become 
 Lucius againe. Feare not (quoth she) for my mistres hath 
 taught me the way to bring that to passe, neither thinke 
 you that she did it for any good will and favour, but to the 
 end I might helpe her, and minister some remedy when she 
 returneth home. 
 
 Consider I pray you with your selfe, with what frivolous 
 
 trifles so marvellous a thing is wrought : For by Hercules 
 
 I sweare I give her nothing else save a little Dill and 
 
 Lawrell leaves, in Well water, the which she drinketh, and 
 
 washeth her selfe withall. Which when she had spoken shee 
 
 went into the chamber and tooke a box out of the coffer, 
 
 which I first kissed and embraced, and prayed that I might 
 
 [have] good successe in my purpose. And then I put off 
 
 all my garments, and greedily thrust my hand into 
 
 the box, and took out a good deale of oyntment 
 
 and rubbed my selfe withall. 
 
 THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius thinking to be turned into a Bird, 
 
 was turned into an Asse, and how hee was 
 
 led away by Theeves. 
 
 FTER that I had well rubbed every part 
 and member of my body, I hovered with 
 myne armes, and moved my selfe, looking 
 still when I should bee changed into a 
 Bird as Pamphiles was, and behold neither 
 feathers nor appearance of feathers did 
 burgen out, but verily my haire did turne 
 in ruggednesse, and my tender skin waxed 
 tough and hard, my fingers and toes losing the number of 
 76
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 five, changed into hoofes, and out of myne arse grew a great CHAPTER 
 taile, now my face became monstrous, my nosthrils wide, my xvn 
 lips hanging downe, and myne eares rugged with haire : S^f^"! 61 
 neither could I see any comfort of my transformation, for my tJrned^ into 
 members encreased likewise, and so without all helpe (view- a Bird, was 
 ing every part of my poore body) I perceived that I was no turned into 
 bird, but a plaine Asse. an Asse > and 
 
 Then I thought to blame Fotis, but being deprived as wel i e d w iJL^S 
 of language as humane shape, I looked upon her with my Theeves 
 hanging lips and watery eyes. Who as soone as shee espied 
 me in such sort, cried out, Alas poore wretch that I am, I 
 am utterly cast away. The feare I was in, and my haste 
 hath beguiled me, but especially the mistaking of the boxe 
 hath deceived me. But it forceth not much, in regard a 
 sooner medicine may be gotten for this than for any other 
 thing. For if thou couldst get a Rose and eat it, thou 
 shouldst be delivered from the shape of an Asse, and become 
 my Lucius againe. And would to God I had gathered some 
 garlands this evening past, according to my custome, then 
 thou shouldst not continue an Asse one nights space, but in 
 the morning I will seeke some remedy. Thus Fotis lamented 
 in pittifull sort, but I that was now a perfect asse, and for 
 Lucius a brute beast, did yet retaine the sence and under- 
 standing of a man. And did devise a good space with my 
 selfe, whether it were best for me to teare this mischievous 
 and wicked harlot with my mouth, or to kicke and kill her 
 with my heels. But a better thought reduced me from so 
 rash a purpose : for I feared lest by the death of Fotis I 
 should be deprived of all remedy and help. Then shaking 
 myne head, and dissembling myne ire, and taking my adversity 
 in good part, I went into the stable to my own horse, where 
 I found another Asse of Miloes, somtime my host, and I 
 did verily think that mine owne horse (if there were any 
 natural conscience or knowledge in brute beasts) would take 
 pitty upon me, and prefer me lodging for that night : but 
 it chanced far otherwise. For see, my horse and the asse as 
 it were consented together to work my harm, and fearing 
 lest I should eat up their provender, would in no wise suffer 
 me to come nigh the manger, but kicked me with their 
 
 77
 
 THE THIRD BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER heeles from their meat, which I my selfe gave them the night 
 
 XVII . before. Then I being thus handled by them, and driven 
 
 HowApulems awa ^ g O me i n ^ o a corner of the stable, where while I 
 
 turned^ into remembred their uncurtesie, and how on the morrow I should 
 
 a Bird, was returne to Lucius by the help of a Rose, when as I thought 
 
 turned into to revenge my self of myne owne horse, I fortuned to espy 
 
 an Asse, and j n fa e m idd\e o f a pillar sustaining the rafters of the stable 
 
 leA a\vav "by ^ ne i ma g e f the goddesse Hippone, which was garnished and 
 
 Theeves decked round about with faire and fresh roses : then in hope 
 
 of present remedy, I leaped up with my fore feet as high as 
 
 I could, stretching out my neck, and with my lips coveting 
 
 to snatch some roses. But in an evill houre I did go about 
 
 that enterprise, for behold the boy to whom I gave charge 
 
 of my horse came presently in, and finding mee climbing 
 
 upon the pillar, ranne fretting towards me and said, How 
 
 long shall wee suffer this wild Asse, that doth not onely eat 
 
 up his fellowes meat, but also would spoyle the images of 
 
 the gods ? Why doe not I kill this lame theefe and weake 
 
 wretch ? And therewithall looking about for some cudgel, 
 
 hee espied where lay a fagot of wood, and ch using out a 
 
 crabbed truncheon of the biggest hee could finde, did never 
 
 cease beating of me poore wretch, untill such time as by 
 
 great noyse and rumbling hee heard the doores of the house 
 
 burst open, and the neighbours crying in most lamentable 
 
 sort, which inforced him being stricken in feare, to fly his way. 
 
 And by and by a troup of theeves entred in, and kept every 
 
 part and corner of the house with weapons. And as men 
 
 resorted to aid and help them which were within the doores, 
 
 the theeves resisted and kept them back, for every man was 
 
 armed with a sword and target in his hand, the glimpses 
 
 whereof did yeeld out such light as if it had bin day. Then 
 
 they brake open a great chest with double locks and bolts, 
 
 wherin was layd all the treasure of Milo, and ransackt the 
 
 same : which when they had done they packed it up and 
 
 gave every one a portion to carry : but when they had more 
 
 than they could beare away, yet were they loth to leave any 
 
 behind, but came into the stable, and took us two poore 
 
 asses and my horse, and laded us with greater trusses than 
 
 wee were able to beare. And when we were out of the house 
 
 78
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 they followed us with great staves, and willed one of their CHAPTER 
 fellows to tarry behind, and bring them tydings what was XVII 
 done concerning the robbery : and so they beat us forward 5\^ pu J ei ^ S 
 over great hils out of the way. But I, what with my heavy turned 1 * iiito 
 burden and long journy, did nothing differ from a dead a Bird, was 
 asse : wherfore I determined with my self to seek some civil turned into 
 
 remedy, and by invocation of the name of the prince of the ? n Asse, an< * 
 ..IJT j f i how nee was 
 
 country to be delivered from so many miseries : and on a led aw b 
 
 time I passed through a great faire, I came among a multi- Theeves 
 tude of Greeks, and I thought to call upon the renowned 
 name of the Emperor, and to say, O Cesar, and cried out 
 aloud, O, but Cesar I could in no wise pronounce. The 
 Theeves little regarding my crying, did lay mee on and beate 
 my wretched skinne in such sort, that after it was neither 
 apt nor meet to make Sives or Sarces. Howbeit at last 
 Jupiter administred unto me an unhoped remedy. For when 
 we had passed through many townes and villages, I fortuned 
 to espy a pleasant garden, wherein beside many other flowers 
 of delectable hiew, were new and fresh roses : and being very 
 joyful, and desirous to catch some as I passed by, I drew 
 neerer and neerer: and while my lips watered upon them, 
 I thought of a better advice more profitable for me, lest if 
 from an Asse I should become a man, I might fall into the 
 hands of the theeves, and either by suspition that I were 
 some witch, or for feare that I should utter their theft, I 
 should be slaine, wherefore I abstained for that time 
 from eating of Roses, and enduring my present 
 adversity, I eat hay as other Asses did. 
 
 79
 
 THE 
 
 FOURTH FIFTH 
 AND SIXTH BOOKES 
 
 of LUCIUS APULEIUS of 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE
 
 THE FOURTH BOOKE 
 
 THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius thinking to eat Roses, was cruelly 
 beaten by a Gardener, and chased by dogs. 
 
 HEN noone was come, that the broyling 
 heate of the sunne had most power, we 
 turned into a village to certaine of the 
 theeves acquaintance and friends, for 
 verily their meeting and embracing to- 
 gether did give me, poore asse, cause to 
 deeme the same, and they tooke the 
 trusse from my backe, and gave them 
 part of the Treasure which was in it, and they seemed to 
 whisper and tell them that it was stollen goods, and after that 
 we were unladen of our burthens, they let us loose into a 
 medow to pasture, but myne own horse and Miloes Asse 
 would not suffer me to feed there with them, but I must 
 seeke my dinner in some other place. 
 
 Wherefore I leaped into a garden which was behinde 
 the stable, and being well nigh perished with hunger, al- 
 though I could finde nothing there but raw and green 
 fallets, yet I filled my hungry guts therwithall abundantly, 
 and praying unto all the gods, I looked about in every 
 place if I could espy any red roses in the gardens by, and 
 my solitary being alone did put me in good hope, that if 
 I could find any remedy, I should presently of an Asse be 
 changed into Lucius out of every mans sight. And while 
 I considered these things, I looked about, and behold I saw 
 
 83
 
 THE FOURTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER a farre off a shadowed valley adjoyning nigh unto a wood, 
 
 XVIII where amongst divers other hearbes and pleasant verdures, 
 
 HowApuleius me thought I saw divers flourishing Roses of bright damaske 
 
 eatRosfs was colour ; and said within my beastiall mind, Verily that place 
 
 cruelly beaten is the place of Venus and the Graces, where secretly glistereth 
 
 byaGardener, the royall hew, of so lively and delectable a floure. Then I 
 
 and chased desiring the help of the guide of my good fortune, ramie 
 
 by dogs i us tily towards the wood, insomuch that I felt my self that I 
 
 was no more an Asse, but a swift coursing horse : but my 
 
 agility and quicknes could not prevent the cruelty of my 
 
 fortune ; for when I came to the place I perceived that they 
 
 were no roses, neither tender nor pleasant, neither moystned 
 
 with the heavenly drops of dew, nor celestiall liquor, which 
 
 grew out of the thicket and thornes there. Neither did I 
 
 perceive that there was any valley at all, but onely the bank 
 
 of the river, environed with great thick trees, which had long 
 
 branches like unto lawrell and bearing a flour without any 
 
 manner of sent, and the common people call them by the 
 
 name of Lawrel roses, which be very poyson to all manner of 
 
 beasts. Then was I so intangled with unhappy fortune that 
 
 I little esteemed mine own danger, and went willingly to eat 
 
 of those roses, though I knew them to be present poyson : 
 
 and as I drew neere I saw a yong man that seemed to be the 
 
 gardener, come upon mee, and when he perceived that I had 
 
 devoured all his hearbs in the garden, he came swearing 
 
 with a great staffe in his hand, and laid upon me in such 
 
 sort, that I was well nigh dead, but I speedily devised some 
 
 remedy my self, for I lift up my legs and kicked me with my 
 
 hinder heels, that I left him lying at the hill foot wel nigh 
 
 slain, and so I ran away. Incontinently came out his wife, 
 
 who seeing her husband halfe dead, cried and howled in 
 
 pittifull sort, and went toward her husband, to the intent 
 
 that by her lowd cries shee might purchase to me present 
 
 destruction. Then all the persons of the town, moved by 
 
 her noise came forth, and cried for dogs to tear me down. 
 
 Out came a great company of Bandogs and mastifes, more fit 
 
 to pul down bears and lions than me, whom when I beheld I 
 
 thought verily I should presently die : but I turned my self 
 
 about, and ranne as fast as ever I might to the stable from 
 
 84
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 whence I came. Then the men of the towne called in their CHAPTER 
 dogs, and took me and bound mee to the staple of a post, XVIII 
 and scourged mee with a great knotted whip till I was well How Apulems 
 nigh dead, and they would undoubtedly have slaine me, gausses was 
 had it not come to passe, that what with the paine of cruelly beaten 
 their beating, and the greene hearbes that lay in my byaGardener, 
 guts, I caught such a laske that I all besprinkled and chased 
 
 their faces with my liquid dung, and enforced 
 them to leave off. 
 
 THE NINETEENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was prevented of his purpose, and 
 how the Theeves came to their den. 
 
 OT long after, the theeves laded us againe, 
 but especially me, and brought us forth 
 of the stable, and when wee had gone a 
 good part of our journey, what with the 
 long way, my great burthen, the beating 
 of staves, and my worne hooves, I was 
 so weary that I could scantly go. Then I 
 saw a little before mee a river running with 
 said to my selfe, Behold, now I have found 
 for I will fall downe when I come yonder, 
 
 faire water, and I 
 
 a good occasion : 
 
 and surely I will not rise againe, neither with scourging nor 
 
 beating, for I had rather be slaine there presently, than goe 
 
 any further. 
 
 And the cause why I determined so to doe was this, I 
 thought that the theeves when they did see me so feeble and 
 weake that I could not travell, to the intent they would not 
 stay in their journey, they would take the burthen from my 
 backe and put it upon my fellowes, and so for my further 
 punishment to leave me as a prey to the wolves and ravening 
 beasts. But evill fortune prevented so good a consideration ; 
 for the other Asse being of the same purpose that I was of, 
 by feigned and coloured wearincsse fell downe first, with all 
 his burthen upon the ground as though hee were dead, and 
 
 85
 
 THE FOURTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER hee would not rise neither with beating nor pricking, nor 
 stand upon his feet, though they pulled him by the tayl, by 
 iowApuleius ^ig j e g Sj an( J by hi s eares : which when the theeves beheld, 
 tfhismirpos^ ^ without all hope they said one unto another, What 
 and how the should we stand here so long about a dead, or rather a stony 
 Theeves came asse ? let us bee gone : and so they tooke his burthen, and 
 to their den divided some to mee, and some to my horse. And then they 
 drew out their swords and cut off his legs, and threw his 
 body from the point of an hill downe into a great valley. 
 Then I considering with my selfe of the evill fortune of my 
 poore companion, and purposed now to forget all subtilty 
 and deceit, and to play the good Asse to get my masters 
 favour, for I perceived by their talke that we were come home 
 well nigh at our journies end. And after that wee had 
 passed over a little hill, wee came to our appointed place, 
 where when we were unladen of our burthens, and all things 
 carried in, I tumbled and wallowed in the dust, to refresh 
 my selfe in stead of water. The thing and the time com- 
 pelleth me to make description of the places, and especially 
 of the den where the theeves did inhabit, I will prove my wit 
 what I can doe, and then consider you whether I was an asse 
 in judgement and sence, or no. For first there was an exceed- 
 ing great hill compassed about with big trees very high, 
 with many turning bottoms full of sharpe stones, whereby 
 it was inaccessible. There was many winding and hollow 
 vallies, environed with thickets and thornes, and naturally 
 fortressed round about. From the top of the hill ranne a 
 running water as cleare as silver, and watered all the valleyes 
 below, that it seemed like unto a sea inclosed, or a standing 
 floud. Before the denne where was no hill stood an high 
 tower, and at the foot thereof were sheepe-coats fenced and 
 walled with clay. Before the gate of the house were pathes 
 made in stead of Avals, in such sort that you would easily 
 judge it to be a very den for theeves, and there was nothing 
 else save a little coat covered with thatch, wherein the 
 Theeves did nightly accustome to watch by order, as I after 
 perceived. And when they were all crept into the house, 
 and we fast tied with halters at the dore, they began to 
 chide with an old woman there, crooked with age, who had 
 86
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 the government and rule of all the house, and said, How is it CHAPTER 
 old witch, old trot, and strumpet, that thou sittest idley all XIX 
 day at home, and having no regard to our perillous labors, HowApulems 
 hast provided nothing for our suppers, but sittest eating and JnhiSpmpose, 
 swilling thy selfe from morning till night ? Then the old and how the 
 woman trembled, and scaiitly able to speak gan say, Behold Theeves came 
 my puissant and faithfull masters, you shall have meat and 
 pottage enough by and by : here is first store of bread, wine 
 plenty, filled in cleane rinsed pots, likewise here is hot water 
 prepared to bathe you. 
 
 Which when she had said, they put off all their garments 
 and refreshed themselves by the fire. And after they were 
 washed and nointed with oyle, they sate downe at the table 
 garnished with all kind of dainty meats. They were no 
 sooner sate downe, but in came another company of yong 
 men more in number than was before, who seemed likewise 
 to bee Theeves, for they brought in their preyes of gold and 
 silver, Plate, Jewels, and rich robes, and when they had like- 
 wise washed, they sate amongst the rest, and served one 
 another by order. Then they drank and eat exceedingly, 
 crying, laughing and making such noyse, that I thought I 
 was amongst the tyrannous and wilde Lapithes, Thebans, 
 and Centaures. At length one of them more valiant than 
 the rest, spake in this sort, We verily have manfully con- 
 quered the house of Milo of Hippata, and beside all the 
 riches and treasure which by force we have brought away, we 
 are all come home safe, and are increased the more by this 
 horse and this Asse. But you that have roved about in the 
 country of Beotia, have lost your valiant captaine Lamathus, 
 whose life I more regarded than all the treasure which you 
 have brought : and therfore the memory of him shall bee 
 renowned for ever amongst the most noble kings and valiant 
 captains : but you accustome when you goe abroad, like men 
 with ganders hearts to creepe through every corner and hole 
 for every trifle. Then one of them that came last answered, 
 Why are you only ignorant, that the greater the number 
 is, the sooner they may rob and spoile the house ? And 
 although the family be dispersed in divers lodgings, yet 
 every man had rather to defend his own life, than to save 
 
 87
 
 THE FOURTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER the riches of his master: but when there be but a few 
 XIX theeves, then will they rather not only regard themselves, 
 iowApuleius k u gj[ so their substance, how little or great soever it be. 
 ofhisimrpose ^ nc ^ *o the intent you may beleeve me I will shew you an 
 and how the example : wee were come nothing nigh to Thebes, where is 
 Theeves came the fountain of our art and science, but we learned where a 
 to their deu rich Chuffe called Chriseros did dwell, who for fear of offices 
 in the publique weal dissembled his estate, and lived sole and 
 solitary in a small coat, howbeit replenished with aboundance 
 of treasure, and went daily in ragged and torn apparel. 
 Wherefore wee devised with our selves to go to his house and 
 spoyl him of all his riches. And when night came we drew 
 towards the dore, which was so strongly closed, that we 
 could neither move it, nor lift it out of the hooks, and we 
 thought it not best to break it open, lest by the noyse we 
 should raise up to our harm the neighbors by. Then our 
 strong and valiant captain Lamathus trusting in his own 
 strength and force, thrust in his hand through a hole of the 
 dore, and thought to pull back the bolt : but the covetous 
 caitif Chriseros being awake, and making no noise came 
 softly to the dore and caught his hand and with a great 
 naile nailed it fast to the post : which when he had done, he 
 ran up unto a high chamber and called every one of his 
 neighbors by name, desiring them to succor him with all 
 possible speed, for his house was on fire. Then every one 
 for fear of their owne danger came running out to aid him, 
 wherewith we fearing our present peril, knew not what was 
 best to be don, whether wee should leave our companion 
 there, or yeeld our selves to die with him : but we by his 
 consent devised a better way, for we cut off his arm by the 
 elbow and so let it hang there : then wee bound his wound 
 with clouts, lest we should be traced by the drops of blood : 
 which don we took Lamathus and led him away, for fear we 
 would be taken : but being so nigh pursued that wee were 
 in present danger, and that Lamathus could not keepe our 
 company by reason of faintnesse ; and on the other side per- 
 ceiving that it was not for his profit to linger behinde, he 
 spake unto us as a man of singular courage and vertuc, 
 desiring us by much entreaty and prayer and by the 
 88
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 puissance of the god Mars, and the faith of our confederacy, CHAPTER 
 to deliver his body from torment and miserable captivity : XIX 
 and further he said, How is it possible that so couragious HowApuleius 
 a Captaine can live without his hand, wherewith he could ^fSpurp^e 
 somtime rob and slay so many people? I would thinke my and how the 
 selfe sufficiently happy if I might be slaine by one of you. Theeves came 
 But when he saw that we all refused to commit any such to their den 
 fact, he drew out his sword with his other hand, and after 
 that he had often kissed it, he thrust it clean through his 
 body. Then we honoured the corps of so puissant a man, 
 and wrapped it in linnen cloathes and threw him into the sea. 
 So lieth our master I,amathus, buried and hid in the grave 
 of water, and ended his life as I have declared. But Alcinus, 
 though he were a man of great enterprise, yet could he not 
 beware by Lamathus, nor void himselfe from evill fortune : 
 for on a day when he had entred into an old womans house 
 to rob her, he went up into a high chamber, where hee 
 should first have strangled her : but he had more regard to 
 throw down the bags of mony and gold out at a window, to 
 us that stood under; and when he was so greedy that he 
 would leave nothing behinde, he went unto the old womans 
 bed where she lay asleep, and would have taken off the 
 coverlet to have thrown downe likewise, but shee awaked, 
 and kneeling on her knees, desired him in this manner : O 
 sir I pray you cast not away such torne and ragged clouts 
 into my neighbours houses, for they are rich enough, and 
 need no such things. Then Alcinus thinking her words to 
 be true, was brought in beleefe, that such things as he had 
 throwne out already, and such things as hee should throw 
 out after, was not fallen downe to his fellowes, but into 
 other mens houses : wherefore hee went to the window to see, 
 and as hee thought to behold the places round about, thrust- 
 ing his body out of the window, the old woman marked him 
 wel, and came behind him softly, and though shee had but 
 small strength, yet with a sudden force she tooke him by the 
 heeles and thrust him out headlong, and so he fell upon a mar- 
 vellous great stone and burst his ribs, wherby he vomited and 
 spewed flakes of blood and presently died. Then wee threw him 
 into the river likewise, as we had done Lamathus before. 
 M 89
 
 THE FOURTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER When we had thus lost two of our companions, wee liked 
 
 XIX not Thebes, but marched towards the next city called Platea, 
 
 1U * where we found a man of great fame named Demochares, 
 
 ' that purposed to set forth a great game, where should be a 
 or ms purpose, . r r . 
 
 and how the tnall of all kind of weapons : hee was come of a good house, 
 Theeves came marvellous rich, liberall, and wel deserved that which he had, 
 to their den an( j nac i prepared many showes and pleasures for the Common 
 people, insomuch that there is no man can either by wit or 
 eloquence shew in words his worthy preparations : for first he 
 had provided all sorts of armes, hee greatly delighted in hunt- 
 ing and chasing, he ordained great towers and Tables to 
 move hither and thither, hee made many places to chase and 
 encounter in : he had ready a great number of men and wilde 
 beasts, and many condemned persons were brought from the 
 Judgement place, to try and fight with those beasts. But 
 amongst so great preparations of noble price, he bestowed the 
 most part of his patrimony in buying of Beares, which he 
 nourished to his great cost, and esteemed more than all the 
 other beasts, which either by chasing hee caught himselfe, 
 or which he dearely bought, or which were given him from 
 divers of his friends. 
 
 Howbeit for all his sumptuous cost, hee could not be free 
 
 from the malitious eyes of envy, for some of them were well 
 
 nigh dead with too long tying up, some meagre with the 
 
 broyling heate of the sun, some languished with lying, but all 
 
 having sundry diseases, were so afflicted that they died one 
 
 after another, and there was well nigh none left, in such sort 
 
 that you might see them lying in the streets pittiously dead. 
 
 And the common people having no other meat to feed on, 
 
 little regarding any curiosity, would come forth and fill their 
 
 bellies with the flesh of the beares. Then by and by Babulus 
 
 and I devised a pretty sport, wee drew one of the greatest of 
 
 the Beares to our lodging, as though wee would prepare to eat 
 
 thereof, where wee flayed of his skinne, and kept his ungles 
 
 whole, but we medled not with the head, but cut it off* by 
 
 the necke, and so let it hang to the skinne. Then we 
 
 rased off the flesh from the necke, and cast dust 
 
 thereon, and set it in the sun to dry. 
 
 90
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE TWENTIETH CHAPTER 
 
 How Trasileon was disguised in a Beares skin, and 
 how he was handled. 
 
 HEN the skinne was a drying we made 
 merry with the flesh, and then we devised 
 with our selves, that one of us being more 
 valiant than the rest both in body and 
 courage (so that he would consent there- 
 to) should put on the skin, and feigning 
 that hee were a Beare, should be led to 
 Demochares house in the night, by which 
 means we thought to be received and let in. Many were 
 desirous to play the Beare, but especially one Thrasileon of 
 a couragious minde would take this enterprise in hand. 
 Then wee put him into the Beares skin, which fitted him 
 finely in every point, wee buckled it fast under his belly, and 
 covered the seam with the haire, that it might not be seen. 
 After this we made little holes through the bears head, and 
 through his nosthrils and eyes, for Thrasileon to see out and 
 take wind at, in such sort that he seemed a very lively and 
 natural beast : when this was don we went into a cave which 
 we hired for the purpose, and he crept in after like a bear 
 with a good courage. Thus we began our subtilty, and then 
 wee imagined thus, wee feigned letters as though they came 
 from one Nicanor which dwelt in the Country of Thracia, 
 which was of great acquaintance with this Demochares, 
 wherein we wrote, that hee had sent him beeing his friend, 
 the first fruits of his coursing and hunting. When night 
 was come, which was a meet time for our purpose, we brought 
 Thrasileon and our forged letters and presented them to 
 Demochares. When Demochares beheld this mighty Beare, 
 and saw the liberality of Nicanor his friend, hee commanded 
 his servants to deliver unto us x. crowns, having great store 
 in his coffers. Then (as the novelty of a thing doth accus- 
 tom to stir mens minds to behold the same) many persons 
 
 91
 
 THE FOURTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER came on every side to see this bear: but Thrasileon, lest 
 they should by curious viewing and prying perceive the truth, 
 How Trap ran U p on them to put them in feare that they durst not 
 ised in a come nigh. The people said, Verily Demochares is right 
 Beares skin, happy, in that after the death of so many beasts, hee hath 
 and how he gotten maugre fortunes head, so goodly a bear. Then 
 was handled ][)emochares commanded him with all care to be put into 
 the park among the other beasts : but immediatly I spake 
 unto him and said, Sir I pray you take heed how you put a 
 beast tired with the heat of the sun and with long travell, 
 among others which as I hear say have divers maladies and 
 diseases, let him rather ly in some open place of your house 
 nie some water, where he may take air and ease himself, 
 for doe not you know that such kind of beasts do greatly 
 delight to couch under the shadow of trees and hillocks neer 
 pleasant wels and waters? Hereby Demochares admonished, 
 and remembring how many he had before that perished, was 
 contented we should put the bear where we would. More- 
 over we said unto him, that we our selves were determined 
 to lie all night neer the Bear, to looke unto him, and to give 
 him meat and drinke at his due houre. 
 
 Then he answered, Verily masters you need not put your 
 selves to such paines, for I have men that serve for nothing 
 but for that purpose. So wee tooke leave of him and de- 
 parted : and when we were come without the gates of the 
 town, we perceived before us a great sepulchre standing out 
 of the highway in a privy and secret place, and thither we 
 went and opened the mouth thereof, whereas we found the 
 sides covered with the corruption of man, and the ashes and 
 dust of his long buried body, wherin we got our selves to 
 bring our purpose to passe, and having respect to the dark 
 time of night, according to our custome, when we thought 
 that every one was asleepe, we went with our weapons and 
 besieged the house of Demochares round about. Then 
 Thrasileon was ready at hand, and leaped out of the caverne, 
 and went to kill all such as he found asleepe : but when he 
 came to the Porter, he opened the gates and let us all in, and 
 then he shewed us a large Counter, wherein we saw put the 
 night before a great aboundance of treasure : which when 
 92
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 by violence we had broke open, I bid every one of my CHAPTER 
 fellowes take as much gold and silver as they could carry XX 
 away, and beare it to the Sepulchre, and still as they carried " ow ^ ra " 
 I stood at the gate, watching diligently when they would JJJJJi^ 
 returne. The Beare running about the house, to make such Beares skin, 
 of the family afeard as fortuned to wake and come out. For and how he 
 who is he that is so puissant and couragious, that at the was handled 
 ougly sight of so great a monster will not quayle and keepe 
 his chamber especially in the night? But when wee had 
 brought this matter to so good a point, there chanced a 
 pittifull case, for as I looked for my companions that should 
 come from the sepulchre, behold there was a Boy of the 
 house that fortuned to looke out of a window, and espied 
 the Bear running about, and he went and told all the servants 
 of the house. Whereupon incontinently they came forth 
 with Torches, Lanthornes, and other lights, that they might 
 see all the yard over : they came with clubs, speares, naked 
 swords, Greyhounds, and Mastifes to slay the poore beast. 
 Then I during this broyle thought to run away, but because 
 I would see Thrasileon fight with the Dogs, I lay behinde the 
 gate to behold him. And although I might perceive that 
 he was well nigh dead, yet remembred he his owne faithful- 
 nes and ours, and valiantly resisted the gaping and raven- 
 ous mouths of the hell hounds, so tooke hee in gree the 
 pagiant which willingly he tooke in hand himselfe, and with 
 much adoe tumbled at length out of the house: but when hee 
 was at liberty abroad yet could he not save himselfe, for all 
 the dogs of the Streete joyned themselves to the greyhounds 
 and mastifes of the house, and came upon him. 
 
 Alas what a pittifull sight it was to see our poore Thrasi- 
 leon thus environed and compassed with so many dogs that 
 tare and rent him miserably. Then I impatient of so great 
 a misery, ranne in amongst the prease of the people, and 
 ayding him with my words as much as I might, exhorted 
 them all in this manner : O great and extreame mischance, 
 what a pretious and excellent beast have we lost. But my 
 words did nothing prevaile, for there came out a tall man 
 with a spear in his hand, that thrust him cleane through, and 
 afterwards many that stood by drew out their swords, and so
 
 THE FOURTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER they killed him. But verily our good Captaine Thrasileon, 
 
 XX the honour of our comfort, received his death so patiently, 
 
 ., r ^"., that he would not bewray the league betweene us, either by 
 
 guised in a crvm g howling or any other meanes, but being torne with 
 
 Scares skin, dogs and wounded with weapons, did yeeld forth a dolefull 
 
 and how he C ry, more like unto a beast than a man. And taking his 
 
 was handled p resen t fortune in good part, with courage and glory enough 
 
 did finish his life, with such a terror unto the assembly, that 
 
 no person was so hardy untill it was day, as to touch him, 
 
 though hee were starke dead : but at last there came a 
 
 Butcher more valiant than the rest, who opening the panch 
 
 of the beast, slit out an hardy and ventrous theefe. 
 
 In this manner we lost our Captain Thrasileon, but hee 
 left not his fame and honour. 
 
 When this was done wee packed up our treasure, which we 
 committed to the sepulchre to keepe, and got us out of the 
 bounds of Platea, thus thinking with our selves, that there 
 was more fidelity amongst the dead than amongst the living, 
 by reason that our preyes were so surely kept in the sepulchre. 
 So being wearied with the weight of our burthens, and well 
 nigh tyred with long travell, having lost three of our soldiers, 
 we are come home with these present cheats. 
 
 Thus when they had spoken in memory of their slaine com- 
 panions, they tooke cups of gold, and sung hymnes unto the 
 god Mars, and layd them downe to sleep. Then the old 
 woman gave us fresh barley without measure, insomuch that 
 my horse fed so abundantly that he might well thinke hee 
 was at some banquet that day. But I that was accustomed to 
 eate bran and flower, thought that but a sower kinde of 
 meate. Wherfore espying a corner where lay loaves 
 of bread for all the house, I got me thither and 
 filled my hungry guts therewith. '
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER 
 
 How the Theeves stole away a Gentlewoman, and 
 brought her to their den. 
 
 HEN night was come the Theeves awaked 
 and rose up, and when they had buckled 
 on their weapons, and disguised their 
 faces with visards, they departed. And 
 yet for all the great sleep that came upon 
 me, I could in no wise leave eating : and 
 whereas when I was man I could be con- 
 tented with one or two loaves at the most, 
 now my guts were so greedy that three panniers full would 
 scantly serve me, and while I considered all these things the 
 morning came, and being led to a river, notwithstanding 
 myne Assie shamefastnesse I quencht my thirst. And sud- 
 denly after, the Theeves returned home carefull and heavy, 
 bringing no burthens with them, no not so much as traffe 
 or baggage, save only a maiden, that seemed by her habit 
 to be some gentlewoman borne, and the daughter of some 
 worthy matron of that country, who was so fair and beauti- 
 full, that though I were an Asse, yet had I a great affection 
 to her. The virgin lamented and tare her hair, and rent her 
 garments, for the great sorrow she was in ; but the theeves 
 brought her within the cave, and assaied to comfort her in 
 this sort, Weep not fair gentlewoman we pray you, for be you 
 assured we wil do no outrage nor violence to your person : 
 but take patience a while for our profit, for necessity and 
 poore estate hath compelled us to do this enterprise : we 
 warrant you that your parents, although they bee covetous, 
 will be contented to give us a great quantity of mony to 
 redeeme and ransome you from our hands. 
 
 With such and like flattering words they endeavoured to 
 appease the gentlewoman, howbeit she would in no case bee 
 comforted, but put her head betwixt her knees, and cried 
 pittiously. Then they called the old woman, and commaunded 
 her to sit by the maiden, and pacifie her dolor as much as
 
 THE FOURTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER shee might. And they departed awey to rob, as they accus- 
 
 XXI tomed to doe, but the virgin would not asswage her griefes, 
 
 How the nor m itigate her sorrow by any entreaty of the old woman, 
 
 awa e aGent but nowled and sobbed in such sort, that she made me 
 
 woman and poore Asse likewise to weepe, and thus she said, Alasse can I 
 
 brought her poore wench live any longer, that am come of so good a 
 
 to their den house, forsaken of all my parents, friends, and family, made 
 
 a rapine and prey, closed servilely in this stony prison, 
 
 deprived of all pleasure, wherein I have beene brought up, 
 
 throwne in danger, ready to be rent in pieces among so many 
 
 sturdy theeves and dreadful robbers, can I (I say) cease from 
 
 weeping, and live any longer ? Thus she cried and lamented, 
 
 and after she had wearied her selfe with sorrow and blubbered 
 
 her face with teares, she closed the windowes of her hollow 
 
 eyes and laid her down to sleepe. And after that she had 
 
 slept, she rose againe like a furious and mad woman, and 
 
 beat her breast and comely face more than she did before. 
 
 Then the old woman enquired the causes of her new and 
 sudden lamentation. To whom sighing in pittifull sort shee 
 answered, Alas now am I utterly undone, now am I out of 
 all hope, O give me a knife to kill me, or a halter to hang me. 
 Whereat the old [woman] was more angry, and severely com- 
 manded her to tell her the cause of her sorrow, and why after 
 her sleep she should renew her dolour and miserable weeping. 
 What, thinke you (quoth she) to deceive our yong men of 
 the price of your ransome ? No, no, therefore cease your 
 crying, for the Theeves doe little esteeme your howling, and 
 if you will not, I will surely burn you alive. Hereat the 
 Maiden was greatly feared, and kissed her hand and said, O 
 mother take pitty upon me and my wretched fortune, and 
 give me license a while to speake, for I thinke I shall not 
 long live, let there be mercy ripe and franke in your vener- 
 able hoare head, and hear the sum of my calamity. 
 
 There was a comely young man, who for his bounty and 
 grace was beloved entirely of all the towne, my cousine 
 Germane, and but three yeares older than I ; we two were 
 nourished and brought up in one house, lay under one roofe, 
 and in one chamber, and at length by promise of mariage, 
 and by consent of our parents we were contracted together. 
 96
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 The marriage day was come, the house was garnished with CHAPTER 
 lawrel, and torches were set in every place in the honour of XXI 
 Hymeneus, my espouse was accompanied with his parents, T How the 
 kinsfolke and friends, and made sacrifice in the temples and ^^aGeSS 1 * 
 publique places. And when my unhappy mother pampered w^onian, "and 
 me in her lap, and decked me like a bride, kissing me sweetly, brought her 
 and making me a parent for Children, behold there came in to their den 
 a great multitude of theeves armed like men of warre, with 
 naked swords in their hands, who went not about to doe any 
 harme, neither to take any thing away, but brake into the 
 chamber where I was, and violently tooke me out of my 
 mothers armes, when none of our family would resist forfeare. 
 
 In this sort was our marriage disturbed, like the mariage 
 of Hyppodame and Perithous. But behold my good mother, 
 now my unhappy fortune is renewed and encreased : For I 
 dreamed in my sleepe, that I was pulled out of our house, 
 out of our chamber, and out of my bed, and that I removed 
 about in solitary and unknowne places, calling upon the 
 name of my unfortunate husband, and how that he, as soone 
 as he perceived that I was taken away, even smelling with 
 perfumes and crowned with garlands, did trace me by the 
 steppes, desiring the aid of the people to assist him, in that 
 his wife was violently stollen away. And as he went crying 
 up and down, one of the theeves mooved with indignation, by 
 reason of his pursuit, took up a stone that lay at his feet, and 
 threw it at my husband and killed him. By the terror of 
 which sight, and the feare of so dreadfull a dreame, I awaked. 
 
 Then the old woman rendring out like sighes, beganne to 
 speake in this sort : My daughter take a good heart unto 
 you, and bee not afeard at feigned and strange visions and 
 dreams, for as the visions of the day are accounted false and 
 untrue, so the visions of the night doe often chance contrary. 
 And to dreame of weeping, beating, and killing, is a token of 
 good lucke and prosperous change. Whereas contrary to 
 dreame of laughing, carnall dalliance, and good cheere, is a 
 
 signe of sadnesse, sickenesse, losse of substance, and dis- 
 pleasure. But I will tell thee a pleasant Tale, to put 
 away all thy sorrow, and to revive thy spirits. 
 And so she began in this manner. 
 
 N 97
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 THE TWENTY-SECOND CHAPTER 
 
 The most pleasant and delectable tale of the 
 marriage of Cupid and Psyches. 
 
 HERE was sometimes a certaine King, in- 
 habiting in the West parts, who had to 
 wife a noble Dame, by whom he had three 
 daughters exceeding fair : of whom the 
 two elder were of such conily shape and 
 beauty, as they did excell and passe all 
 other women living, whereby they were 
 thought worthily to deserve the praise 
 and commendation of every person, and deservedly to be 
 preferred above the residue of the common sort. Yet the 
 singular passing beauty and maidenly majesty of the yongest 
 daughter did so farre surmount and excell them two, as no 
 earthly creature could by any meanes sufficiently expresse or 
 set out the same. 
 
 By reason wherof, after the fame of this excellent maiden 
 was spread abroad in every part of the City, the Citisens and 
 strangers there beeing inwardly pricked by the zealous affec- 
 tion to behold her famous person, came daily by thousands, 
 hundreths, and scores, to her fathers palace, who was astonied 
 with admiration of her incomparable beauty, did no lesse 
 worship and reverence her with crosses, signes and tokens, 
 and other divine adorations, according to the custome of the 
 old used rites and ceremonies, than if she were Lady Venus 
 indeed : and shortly after the fame was spread into the next 
 cities and bordering regions, that the goddesse whom the 
 deep seas had born and brought forth, and the froth of the 
 waves had nourished, to the intent to shew her high magnifi- 
 cencie and divine power on earth, to such as erst did honour 
 and worship her, was now conversant amongst mortall men, or 
 else that the earth and not the sea, by a new concourse and 
 influence of the Celestiall planets, had budded and yeelded 
 forth a new Venus, endued with the floure of virginity. 
 98
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 So daily more and more encreased this opinion, and now CHAPTER 
 is her flying fame dispersed into the next Island, and well XXI I 
 nigh into every part and province of the whole world. Wher- 7^* most , 
 upon innumerable strangers resorted from farre Countries, delectebletSe 
 adventuring themselves by long journies on land and by of the mar- 
 great perils on water, to behold this glorious virgin. By ria ge of Cupid 
 occasion whereof such a contempt grew towards the goddesse and Psvches 
 Venus, that no person travelled unto the Towne Paphos, 
 nor to the Isle Gyndos, nor to Cythera to worship her. Her 
 ornaments were throwne out, her temples defaced, her 
 pillowes and cushions torne, her ceremonies neglected, her 
 images and Statues uncrowned, and her bare altars unswept, 
 and fowl with the ashes of old burnt sacrifice. For why, 
 every person honoured and worshipped this maiden in stead 
 of Venus, and in the morning at her first comming abroad 
 offered unto her oblations, provided banquets, called her by 
 the name of Venus, which was not Venus indeed, and in her 
 honour presented floures and garlands in most reverend 
 fashion. 
 
 This sudden change and alteration of celestiall honour, 
 did greatly inflame and kindle the love of very Venus, who 
 unable to temper her selfe from indignation, shaking her 
 head in raging sort, reasoned with her selfe in this manner, 
 Behold the originall parent of all these elements, behold the 
 Lady Venus renowned throughout all the world, with whome 
 a mortall maiden is joyned now partaker of honour : my 
 name registred in the city of heaven, is prophaned and made 
 vile by terrene absurdities. If I shall suffer any mortall 
 creature to present my Majesty on earth, or that any shall 
 beare about a false surmised shape of my person, then in vain 
 did Paris the sheepheard (in whose just judgement and confi- 
 dence the great Jupiter had affiance) preferre me above the 
 residue of the goddesses, for the excellency of my beauty : 
 but she, whatsoever she be that hath usurped myne honour, 
 shal shortly repent her of her unlawfull estate. And by and 
 by she called her winged sonne Cupid, rash enough and hardy, 
 who by his evil manners contemning all publique justice and 
 law, armed with fire and arrowes, running up and downe in 
 the nights from house to house, and corrupting the lawfull 
 
 yy
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER marriages of every person, doth nothing but that which is evill, 
 
 who although that hee were of his owne proper nature suffi- 
 
 1 * most c j en t}y prone to worke mischiefe, yet she egged him forward 
 
 delectable tale w ^ n woi 'ds, and brought him to the city, and shewed him 
 
 of the mar- Psyches (for so the maid was called), and having told the 
 
 riage of Cupid cause of her anger, not without great rage, I pray thee (quoth 
 
 and Psyches sne ^ mv (j ear childe, by motherly bond of love, by the sweet 
 
 wounds of thy piercing darts, by the pleasant heate of thy 
 
 fire, revenge the injury which is done to thy mother by the 
 
 false and disobedient beauty of a mortall maiden, and I pray 
 
 thee, that without delay shee may fall in love with the most 
 
 miserablest creature living, the most poore, the most crooked, 
 
 and the most vile, that there may bee none found in all the 
 
 world of like wretchednesse. When she had spoken these 
 
 words she embraced and kissed her sonne, and took her 
 
 voyage towards the sea. 
 
 When she came upon the sea she began to cal the gods 
 and goddesses, who were obedient at her voyce. For incon- 
 tinent came the daughters of Nereus, singing with tunes 
 melodiously : Portunus with his bristled and rough beard, 
 Salita with her bosome full of fish, Palemon the driver of 
 the Dolphine, the Trumpetters of Tryton, leaping hither 
 and thither, and blowing with heavenly noyse : such was 
 the company which followed Venus, marching towards the 
 ocean sea. 
 
 In the meane season Psyches with all her beauty received 
 no fruit of honor. She was wondred at of all, she was 
 praised of all, but she perceived that no King nor Prince, nor 
 any of the superiour sort did repaire to wooe her. Every 
 one marvelled at her divine beauty, as it were some Image 
 well painted and set out. Her other two sisters which were 
 nothing so greatly exalted by the people, were royally 
 married to two Kings : but the virgin Psyches sitting at 
 home alone, lamented her solitary life, and being disquieted 
 both in mind and body, although she pleased all the world, 
 yet hated shee in her selfe her owne beauty. Whereupon the 
 miserable father of this unfortunate daughter, suspecting 
 that the gods and powers of heaven did envy her estate, 
 went to the town called Milet to receive the Oracle of 
 100
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 Apollo, where he made his prayers and offered sacrifice, and CHAPTER 
 desired a husband for his daughter : but Apollo though he XXI1 
 were a Grecian, and of the country of Ionia, because of the , The most d 
 foundation of Milet, yet hee gave answer in Latine verse, delectable tale 
 the sence wherof was this : of the mar- 
 
 Let Psyches corps be clad in mourning weed. 
 
 And set on rocke of yonder hill aloft : 
 
 Her husband is no wight of humane seed, 
 
 But Serpent dire and fierce as might be thought. 
 
 Who flies with wings above in starry skies, 
 
 And doth subdue each thing with firie flight. 
 
 The gods themselves, and powers that seem so wise, 
 
 With mighty Jove, be subject to his might, 
 
 The rivers blacke, and deadly flouds of paine, 
 
 And darknesse eke, as thrall to him remaine. 
 
 The King, sometimes happy when hee heard the prophesie 
 of Apollo, returned home sad and sorrowfull, and declared to 
 his wife the miserable and unhappy fate of his daughter. 
 Then they began to lament and weep, and passed over many 
 dayes in great sorrow. But now the time approached of 
 Psyches marriage, preparation was made, blacke torches were 
 lighted, the pleasant songs were turned into pittifull cries, 
 the melody of Hymeneus was ended with deadly howling, 
 the maid that should be married did wipe her eyes with her 
 vaile. All the family and people of the city weeped like- 
 wise, and with great lamentation was ordained a remisse time 
 for that day, but necessity compelled that Psyches should be 
 brought to her appointed place, according to the divine 
 appointment. 
 
 And when the solemnity was ended, they went to bring 
 this sorrowfull spowse, not to her marriage, but to her finall 
 end and buriall. And while the father and mother of 
 Psyches did go forward weeping and crying to do this enter- 
 prise, Psyches spake unto them in this sort : Why torment 
 you your unhappy age with continuall dolour ? Why trouble 
 you your spirits, which are more rather myne than yours ? 
 Why soyle ye your faces with teares, which I ought to adore 
 and worship ? Why teare you my eyes in yours ? why pull 
 you your hory haires ? Why knocke ye your breasts for me ? 
 Now you see the reward of my excellent beauty: now, now 
 
 101
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER you perceive, but too late, the plague of envy. When the 
 
 XXII people did honour me, and call me new Venus, then yee should 
 
 The most h ave we pt ? then you should have sorrowed as though I had 
 
 delectable tale ^ een ^ eac ^ : ^ or now ^ see anc ^ P erce i ve that I am come to 
 
 of the mar- this misery by the only name of Venus, bring mee, and as 
 
 riage of Cupid fortune hath appointed, place me on the top of the rocke, 
 
 and Psyches j greatly desire to end my marriage, I greatly covet to see 
 
 my husband. Why doe I delay ? why should I refuse him 
 
 that is appointed to destroy all the world ? 
 
 Thus ended she her words, and thrust her selfe amongst 
 the people that followed. Then they brought her to the 
 appointed rocke of the high hill, and set [her] hereon, and so 
 departed. The Torches and lights were put out with the 
 tears of the people, and every man gone home, the miserable 
 Parents well nigh consumed with sorrow, gave themselves to 
 everlasting darknes. 
 
 Thus poore Psyches being left alone, weeping and trembling 
 on the toppe of the rocke, was blowne by the gentle aire 
 and of shrilling Zephyrus, and caried from the hill with a 
 meek winde, which retained her garments up, and by little 
 and little brought her downe into a deepe valley, where she 
 was laid in a bed of most sweet and fragrant flowers. 
 
 Thus faire Psyches beeing sweetly couched among the soft 
 and tender hearbs, as in a bed of sweet and fragrant floures, 
 and having qualified the thoughts and troubles of her rest- 
 lesse minde, was now well reposed. And when she had 
 refreshed her selfe sufficiently with sleepe, she rose with a 
 more quiet and pacified minde, and fortuned to espy a 
 pleasant wood invironed with great and mighty trees. Shee 
 espied likewise a running river as cleare as crystall : in the 
 midst of the wood well nigh at the fall of the river was a 
 princely Edifice, wrought and builded not by the art or hand 
 of man, but by the mighty power of God : and you would 
 judge at the first entry therin, that it were some pleasent 
 and worthy mansion for the powers of heaven. For the em- 
 bowings above were of Citron and Ivory, propped and under- 
 mined with pillars of gold, the walls covered and seeled with 
 silver, divers sorts of beasts were graven and carved, that 
 seemed to encounter with such as entered in. All things 
 102
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 were so curiously and finely wrought, that it seemed either CHAPTER 
 to be the worke of some Demy god, or God himselfe. The XXII 
 pavement was all of pretious stones, divided and cut one , The most 
 from another, whereon was carved divers kindes of pictures, delectable tele 
 in such sort that blessed and thrice blessed were they which O f the mar- 
 might goe upon such a pavement : Every part and angle of riage of Cupid 
 the house was so well adorned, that by reason of the pretious an( * Psyches 
 stones and inestimable treasure there, it glittered and shone 
 in such sort, that the chambers, porches, and doores gave 
 light as it had beene the Sunne. Neither otherwise did the 
 other treasure of the house disagree unto so great a majesty, 
 that verily it seemed in every point an heavenly Palace, fabri- 
 cate and built for Jupiter himselfe. 
 
 Then Psyches moved with delectation approched nigh, 
 and taking a bold heart entred into the house, and beheld 
 every thing there with great affection, she saw storehouses 
 wrought exceeding fine, and replenished with aboundance of 
 riches. Finally, there could nothing be devised which lacked 
 there : but amongst such great store of Treasure this was 
 most marvellous, that there was no closure, bolt, nor locke 
 to keepe the same. And when with great pleasure she had 
 viewed all these things, she heard a voyce without any body, 
 that sayd, Why doe you marvell Madame at so great riches ? 
 behold, all that you see is at your commandement, where- 
 fore goe you into the chamber, and repose your selfe upon 
 the bed, and desire what bath you will have, and we whose 
 voyces you heare bee your servants, and ready to minister 
 unto you according to your desire. In the meane season, 
 royall meats and dainty dishes shall be prepared for you. 
 
 Then Psyches perceived the felicity of divine providence, 
 and according to the advertisement of the incorporeall voyces 
 she first reposed her selfe upon the bed, and then refreshed 
 her body in the baines. This done, shee saw the table 
 garnished with meats, and a chaire to sit downe. 
 
 When Psyches was set downe, all sorts of divine meates 
 and wines were brought in, not by any body, but as it were 
 with a winde, for she saw no person before her, but only 
 heard voyces on every side. After that all the services 
 were brought to the table, one came in and sung invisibly, 
 
 103
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER another played on the harpe, but she saw no man. The 
 XXII harmony of the Instruments did so greatly shrill in her ears, 
 
 The most ^^ though there were no maner of person, yet seemed she 
 pleasant and . , -, , . , f , ' J 
 
 delectable tale m ^ ne ml dst 01 a multitude or people. 
 
 of the mar- All these pleasures finished, when night aproched Psyches 
 riage of Cupid went to bed, and when she was layd, that the sweet sleep 
 and Psyches came U p O n her, she greatly feared her virginity, because shee 
 was alone. Then came her unknowne husband and lay with 
 her : and after that hee had made a perfect consummation 
 of the marriage, he rose in the morning before day, and 
 departed. Soone after came her invisible servants, and pre- 
 sented to her such things as were necessary for her deflora- 
 tion. And thus she passed forth a great while, and as it 
 happeneth, the novelty of things by continuall custome did 
 encrease her pleasure, but specially the sound of the instru- 
 ments was a comfort unto her being alone. 
 
 During this time that Psyches was in this place of plea- 
 sures, her father and mother did nothing but weepe and 
 lament, and her two sisters hearing of her most miserable 
 fortune, came with great dolour and sorrow to comfort and 
 speake with their parents. 
 
 The night following, Psyches husband spake unto her (for 
 she might feele his eyes, his hands, and his ears) and sayd, O 
 my sweet Spowse and dear wife, fortune doth menace unto 
 thee imminent danger, wherof I wish thee greatly to beware : 
 for know that thy sisters, thinking that thou art dead, bee 
 greatly troubled, and are come to the mountain by thy steps. 
 Whose lamentations if thou fortune to heare, beware that 
 thou doe in no wise either make answer, or looke up to- 
 wards them, for if thou doe thou shalt purchase to mee great 
 sorrow, and to thy selfe utter destruction. Psyches hearing 
 her Husband, was contented to doe all things as hee had 
 commanded. 
 
 After that hee was departed and the night passed away, 
 Psyches lamented and lamented all the day following, think- 
 ing that now shee was past all hopes of comfort, in that shee 
 was closed within the walls of a prison, deprived of humane 
 conversation, and commaunded not to aid her sorrowfull 
 Sisters, no nor once to see them. Thus she passed all the 
 104
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 day in weeping, and went to bed at night, without any re- CHAPTER 
 fection of meat or baine. XXII 
 
 Incontinently after came her husband, who when hee had , The most 
 embraced her sweetly, began to say, Is it thus that you per- JelectabletSe 
 forme your promise, my sweet wife ? What do I finde heere ? O f the mar- 
 Passe you all the day and the night in weeping ? And wil you riage of Cupid 
 not cease in your husbands armes ? Goe too, doe what ye and 
 will, purchase your owne destruction, and when you finde it 
 so, then remember my words, and repent, but too late. Then 
 she desired her husband more and more, assuring him that 
 shee should die, unlesse he would grant that she might see 
 her sisters, wherby she might speake with them and comfort 
 them, whereat at length he was contented, and moreover hee 
 willed that shee should give them as much gold and jewels 
 as she would. But he gave her a further charge saying, 
 Beware that ye covet not (being mooved by the pernicious 
 counsell of your sisters) to see the shape of my person, lest 
 by your curiosity you deprive your selfe of so great and 
 worthy estate. Psyches being glad herewith, rendred unto 
 him most entire thankes, and said, Sweet husband, I had 
 rather die than to bee separated from you, for whosoever you 
 be, I love and retaine you within my heart as if you were 
 myne owne spirit or Cupid himselfe : but I pray you grant 
 this likewise, that you would commaund your servant 
 Zephyrus to bring my sisters downe into the valley as he 
 brought mee. 
 
 Wherewithall shee kissed him sweetly, and desired him 
 gently to grant her request, calling him her spowse, her 
 sweetheart, her Joy, and her Solace. Wherby she enforced 
 him to agree to her mind, and when morning came he de- 
 parted away. 
 
 After long search made, the sisters of Psyches came unto 
 the hill where she was set on the rocke, and cried with a 
 loud voyce in such sort that the stones answered againe. 
 And when they called their sister by her name, that their 
 lamentable cries came unto her eares, shee came forth and 
 said, Behold, heere is shee for whom you weepe, I pray you 
 torment your selves no more, cease your weeping. And by 
 and by shee commaunded Zephyrus by the appointment 
 
 O 105
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER of her husband to bring them downe. Neither did hee 
 
 XXII delay, for with gentle blasts he retained them up and layd 
 
 The most them softly in the valley. I am not able to expresse the 
 
 delectable tale often embracing, kissing and greeting which was betweene 
 
 of the mar- them three, all sorrows and tears were then layd apart. 
 
 riage of Cupid Come in (quoth Psyches) into our house, and refresh your 
 and Psyches a ffli c ted mindes with your sister. 
 
 After this she shewed them the storehouses of treasure, 
 shee caused them to hear the voices which served her, the 
 bain was ready, the meats were brought in, and when they 
 had filled themselves with divine delecates, they conceived 
 great envy within their hearts, and one of them being 
 curious, did demand what her husband was, of what estate, 
 and who was Lord of so pretious a house ? But Psyches 
 remembring the promise which she had made to her husband, 
 feigned that hee was a young man, of comely stature, with 
 a flaxen beard, and had great delight in hunting in the hills 
 and dales by. And lest by her long talke she should be 
 found to trip or faile in her words, she filled their laps with 
 gold, silver, and Jewels, and commanded Zephyrus to carry 
 them away. 
 
 When they were brought up to the mountain, they tooke 
 their wayes homeward to their owne houses, and murmured 
 with envy that they bare against Psyches, saying, Behold 
 cruell and contrary fortune, behold how we, borne all of one 
 Parent, have divers destinies : but especially we that are the 
 elder two bee married to strange husbands, made as Hand- 
 maidens, and as it were banished from our Countrey and 
 friends. Whereas our younger sister hath great abundance 
 of treasure, and hath gotten a god to her husband, although 
 shee hath no skill how to use so great plenty of riches. Saw 
 you not sister what was in the house, what great store of 
 jewels, what glittering robes, what Gemmes, what gold we 
 trod on ? That if shee have a husband according as shee 
 affirmeth, there is none that liveth this day more happy in 
 all the world than she. And so it may come to passe, that 
 at length for the great affection which hee may beare unto 
 her hee may make her a goddesse : for by Hercules, such 
 was her countenance, so she behaved her self, that as a 
 106
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 goddesse she had voices to serve her, and the winds did CHAPTER 
 obey her. XXII 
 
 But I poore wretch have first maried an husband elder , The most 
 than my father, more bald than a Coot, more weake than a delectable tale 
 child, and that locketh me up all day in the house. of the mar- 
 
 Then said the other sister, And in faith I am maried to a riage of Cupid 
 husband that hath the gout, twyfold, crooked, not coura- an( * 
 gious in paying my debt, I am faine to rubbe and mollifie 
 his stony fingers with divers sorts of oyles, and to wrap them 
 in playsters and salves, so that I soyle my white and dainty 
 hands with the corruption of filthy clouts, not using my selfe 
 like a wife, but more like a servant. And you my sister 
 seem likewise to be in bondage and servitude, wherefore 
 I cannot abide to see our younger sister in such great 
 felicity : saw you not I pray you how proudly and arrogantly 
 shee handled us even now ? And how in vaunting her selfe 
 shee uttered her presumptuous minde, how she cast a little 
 gold into our laps, and being weary of our company, com- 
 manded that we should be borne and blown away ? 
 
 Verily I live not, nor am a woman, but I will deprive her 
 of all her blisse. And if you my sister bee so far bent as I, 
 let us consult together, and not to utter our minde to any 
 person, no not to our parents, nor tell that ever we saw 
 her. For it sufficeth that we have seene her, whom it re- 
 penteth to have seene. Neither let us declare her good 
 fortune to our father, nor to any other, since as they seeme 
 not happy whose riches are unknowne : so shall she know 
 that shee hath sisters no Abjects, but worthier than she. 
 
 But now let us goe home to our husbands and poore 
 houses, and when wee are better instructed, let us returne to 
 suppresse her pride. So this evill counsell pleased these 
 two evil women, and they hid the treasure which Psyches 
 gave them, and tare their haire, renewing their false and 
 forged teares. When their father and mother beheld them 
 weep and lament still, they doubled their sorrowes and 
 griefes, but full of yre and forced with Envy, they tooke 
 their voyage homeward, devising the slaughter and destruc- 
 tion of their sister. 
 
 In the meane season the husband of Psyches did warne 
 
 107
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER her againe in the night with these words : Seest thou not 
 XXII (quoth he) what perill and danger evill fortune doth 
 The most threaten un t o thee, whereof if thou take not good heed 
 delectable tale ^ w ^ shortly come upon thee. For the unfaithfull harlots 
 of the mar- doe greatly endeavor to set their snares to catch thee, and 
 riage of Cupid their purpose is to make and perswade thee to behold my 
 and Psyches f ace? which if thou once fortune to see, as I have often told, 
 thou shalt see no more. Wherfore if these naughty hagges, 
 armed with wicked minds, doe chance to come againe (as 
 I thinke no otherwise but that they will) take heed that 
 thou talke not with them, but simply suffer them to speake 
 what they will, howbeit if thou canst not refraine thy selfe, 
 beware that thou have no communication of thy husband, 
 nor answer a word if they fortune to question of me, so 
 will we encrease our stocke, and this young and tender childe, 
 couched in this young and tender belly of thine, if thou con- 
 ceale my secrets, shall be made an immortall god, otherwise 
 a mortal creature. Then Psyches was very glad that she 
 should bring forth a divine babe, and very joyfull in that 
 she should be honored as a mother. She reckened and 
 numbered carefully the days and months that passed, and 
 beeing never with child before, did marvel greatly that in 
 so short a time her belly should swel so big. But those 
 pestilent and wicked furies breathing out their Serpentine 
 poyson, took shipping to bring their enterprise to passe. 
 Then Psyches was warned again by her husband in this sort : 
 Behold the last day, the extream case, and the enemies of 
 thy blood, hath armed themselves against us, pitched their 
 campe, set their host in array, and are marching towards 
 us, for now thy two sisters have drawn their swords, and 
 are ready to slay thee. O with what force are we assailed 
 this day ! O sweet Psyches I pray thee to take pitty on thy 
 selfe, of me, and deliver thy husband and this infant within 
 thy belly from so great danger, and see not neither heare 
 these cursed women, which are not worthy to be called thy 
 sisters, for their great hatred and breach of sisterly amity, 
 for they wil come like Syrens to the mountains, and yeeld 
 out their pittious and lamentable cries. When Psyches had 
 heard these words shee sighed sorrowfully and said, O deare 
 JLUo
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 husband, this long time have you had experience and triall CHAPTER 
 of my faith, and doubt you not but that I will persever in XXII 
 the same, wherefore command your winde Zephyrus, that , The m 8t 
 hee may doe as hee hath done before, to the intent that SSbletalt 
 where you have charged me not to behold your venerable O f the mar- 
 face, yet that I may comfort my selfe with the sight of my riage of Cupid 
 sisters. I pray you by these beautifull haires, by these round and Ps yches 
 cheeks delicate and tender, by your pleasant hot breast, 
 whose shape and face I shall learne at length by the childe 
 in my belly, grant the fruit of my desire, refresh your deare 
 Spowse Psyches with joy, who is bound and linked unto you 
 for ever. I little esteeme to see your visage and figure, little 
 doe I regard the night and darkenesse thereof, for you are 
 my only light. 
 
 Her husband being as it were inchanted with these words 
 and compelled by violence of her often embracing, wiping 
 away her teares with his haire, did yeeld unto his wife. 
 And when morning came, departed as hee was accustomed 
 to doe. 
 
 Now her sisters arrived on land, and never rested til they 
 came to the rock, without visiting their parents, and leapt 
 down rashly from the hill themselves. Then Zephyrus 
 according to the divine commandment brought them down, 
 though it were against his wil, and laid them in the vally 
 without any harm : by and by they went into the palace to 
 their sister without leave, and when they had eftscone 
 embraced their prey, and thanked her with flattering words 
 for the treasure which she gave them, they said, O deare 
 sister Psyches, know you that you are now no more a childe, 
 but a mother : O what great joy beare you unto us in your 
 belly ? What a comfort will it be unto all the house ? 
 How happy shall we be, that shall see this Infant nourished 
 amongst so great plenty of Treasure ? That if he be like 
 his parents, as it is necessary he should, there is no doubt 
 but a new Cupid shall be borne. By this kinde of meanes 
 they went about to winne Psyches by little and little, but 
 because they were wearie with travell, they sate them downe 
 in chaires, and after that they had washed their bodies in 
 baines they went into a Parlour, where all kinde of meats 
 
 109
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER were ready prepared. Psyches commanded one to play with 
 
 XXII his harpe, it was done. Then immediately others sung, 
 
 , most O t ners tuned their instruments, but no person was scene, by 
 
 delectable tale whose sweet harmony and modulation the sisters of Psyches 
 
 of the mar- were greatly delighted. 
 
 riage of Cupid Howbeit the wickednesse of these cursed women was 
 
 and Psyches no thing suppressed by the sweet noyse of these instruments, 
 but they setled themselves to worke their treasons against 
 Psyches, demanding who was her husband, and of what 
 Parentage. Then shee having forgotten by too much sim- 
 plicity, what she had spoken before of her husband, invented 
 a new answer, and said that her husband was of a great 
 province, a merchant, and a man of a middle age, having his 
 beard interspaced with gray haires. Which when shee had 
 spoken (because she would have no further talke) she filled 
 their laps full of Gold and Silver, and bid Zephyrus to bear 
 them away. 
 
 In their returne homeward they murmured within them- 
 selves, saying, How say you sister to so apparant a lye of 
 Psyches ? First she sayd that her husband was a young man 
 of flourishing yeares, and had a flaxen beard, and now she 
 sayth that he is halfe gray with age. What is he that in 
 so short a space can become so old ? You shall finde it no 
 otherwise my sister, but that either this cursed queane hath 
 invented a great lie, or else that she never saw the shape of 
 her husband. And if it be so that she never saw him, then 
 verily she is married to some god, and hath a yong god in 
 her belly. But if it be a divine babe, and fortune to come 
 to the eares of my mother (as God forbid it should) then may 
 I go and hang my selfe : wherfore let us go to our parents, 
 and with forged lies let us colour the matter. 
 
 After they were thus inflamed, and had visited their 
 Parents, they returned againe to the mountaine, and by the 
 ayd of the winde Zephyrus were carried downe into the valley, 
 and after they had streined their eye lids, to enforce them- 
 selves to weepe, they called unto Psyches in this sort, Thou 
 (ignorant of so great evill) thinkest thy selfe sure and happy, 
 and sittest at home nothing regarding thy peril, whereas wee 
 goe about thy affaires, and are carefull lest any harme should 
 110
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 happen unto you: for we are credibly informed, neither can CHAPTER 
 we but utter it unto you, that there is a great serpent full of XXII 
 deadly poyson, with a ravenous and gaping throat, that lieth , The m 8t 
 with thee every night. Remember the Oracle of Apollo, who SelSleSe 
 pronounced that thou shouldest be married to a dire and of the mar- 
 fierce Serpent, and many of the Inhabitants hereby, and riage of Cupid 
 such as hunt about in the countrey, affirme that they saw him and Ps 7 cli es 
 yesternight returning from pasture and swimming over the 
 River, whereby they doe undoubtedly say, that hee will not 
 pamper thee long with delicate meats, but when the time of 
 delivery shall approach he will devoure both thee and thy 
 child : wherefore advise thy selfe whether thou wilt agree 
 unto us that are carefull of thy safety, and so avoid the 
 perill of death, and bee contented to live with thy sisters, or 
 whether thou wilt remaine with the Serpent, and in the end 
 be swallowed into the gulfe of his body. And if it be so 
 that thy solitary life, thy conversation with voices, this 
 servile and dangerous pleasure, and the love of the Serpent 
 doe more delight thee, say not but that we have played the 
 parts of naturall sisters in warning thee. 
 
 Then the poore and simple miser Psyches was mooved with 
 the feare of so dreadfull words, and being amazed in her 
 mind, did cleane forget the admonitions of her husband, and 
 her owne promises made unto him, and throwing her selfe 
 headlong into extreame misery, with a wanne and sallow 
 countenance, scantly uttering a third word, at length gan 
 say in this sort : O my most deare sisters, I heartily thanke 
 you for your great kindenesse toward me, and I am now 
 verily perswaded that they which have informed you hereof 
 hath informed you of nothing but truth, for I never saw the 
 shape of my husband, neither know I from whence he came, 
 only I heare his voice in the night, insomuch that I have an 
 uncertaine husband, and one that loveth not the light of the 
 day : which causeth me to suspect that he is a beast, as you 
 affirme. Moreover, I doe greatly feare to see him, for he 
 doth menace and threaten great evill unto mee, if I should 
 goe about to spy and behold his shape, wherefore my loving 
 sisters if you have any wholsome remedy for your sister in 
 danger, give it now presently. Then they opened the gates
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER of their subtill mindes, and did put away all privy guile, and 
 
 XXII egged her forward in her fearefull thoughts, perswading her 
 
 The most ^ Q ^ QQ ^ they would have her: whereupon one of them 
 
 ddectabletale began and sayd, Because that wee little esteeme any perill 
 
 of the mar- or danger, to save your life, we intend to shew you the best 
 
 riage of Cupid way and meane as we may possibly do. Take a sharpe razor 
 
 and Psyches an( j p u |- j^ un der the pillow of your bed ; and see that you 
 
 have ready a privy burning lampe with oyle, hid under some 
 
 part of the hanging of the chamber, and finely dissembling 
 
 the matter, when according to his custome hee commeth to 
 
 bed and sleepeth soundly, arise you secretly, and with your 
 
 bare feet goe and take the lampe, with the Razor in your 
 
 right hand, and with valiant force cut off the head of the 
 
 poysonous serpent, wherein we will aid and assist you : and 
 
 when by the death of him you shall be made safe, we wil 
 
 marry you to some comely man. 
 
 After they had thus inflamed the heart of their sister, 
 fearing lest some danger might happen unto them by reason 
 of their evill counsell, they were carried by the wind Zephyrus 
 to the top of the mountaine, and so they ran away and tooke 
 shipping. 
 
 When Psyches was left alone (saving that she seemed not 
 to be alone, being stirred by so many furies) she was in a 
 tossing minde like the waves of the sea, and although her 
 wil was obstinate, and resisted to put in execution the 
 counsell of her Sisters, yet she was in doubtfull and divers 
 opinions touching her calamity. Sometime she would, some- 
 time she would not, sometime she is bold, sometime she 
 feareth, somtime shee mistrusteth, somtime she is mooved, 
 somtime she hateth the beast, somtime she loveth her 
 husband : but at length night came, when as she prepared 
 for her wicked intent. 
 
 Soon after her husband came, and when he had kissed and 
 embraced her he fel asleep. Then Psyches (somwhat feeble 
 in body and mind, yet mooved by cruelty of fate) received 
 boldnes and brought forth the lampe, and tooke the razor, 
 so by her audacity she changed her mind : but when she took 
 the lamp and came to the bed side, she saw the most meeke 
 and sweetest beast of all beasts, even faire Cupid couched 
 
 112
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 fairly, at whose sight the very lampe encreased his light for CHAPTER 
 joy, and the razor turned his edge. XXII 
 
 But when Psyches saw so glorious a body shee greatly , The mo8t 
 feared, and amazed in mind, with a pale countenance all delectable tele 
 trembling fel on her knees and thought to hide the razor, yea O f the mar- 
 verily in her owne heart, which doubtlesse she had done, had riage of Cupid 
 it not through feare of so great an enterprise fallen out of and 
 her hand. And when she saw and beheld the beauty of the 
 divine visage shee was well recreated in her mind, she saw his 
 haires of gold, that yeelded out a sweet savor, his neck more 
 white than milk, his purple cheeks, his haire hanging comely 
 behinde and before, the brightnesse whereof did darken the 
 light of the lamp, his tender plume feathers, dispersed upon 
 his sholders like shining flours, and trembling hither and 
 thither, and his other parts of his body so smooth and so 
 soft, that it did not repent Venus to beare such a childe. At 
 the beds feet lay his bow, quiver, and arrowes, that be the 
 weapons of so great a god : which when Psyches did curiously 
 behold, she marvelling at her husbands weapons, took one of 
 the arrows out of the quiver, and pricked her selfe withall, 
 wherwith she was so grievously wounded that the blood 
 followed, and thereby of her owne accord shee added love 
 upon love ; then more broyling in the love of Cupid shee 
 embraced him and kissed him and kissed him a thousand 
 times, fearing the measure of his sleepe. But alas while shee 
 was in this great joy, whether it were for envy, for desire to 
 touch this amiable body likewise, there fell out a droppe of 
 burning oyle from the lampe upon the right shoulder of the 
 god. O rash and bold lampe, the vile ministery of love, how 
 darest thou bee so bold as to burne the god of all fire ? 
 When as he invented thee, to the intent that all lovers 
 might with more joy passe the nights in pleasure. 
 
 The god beeing burned in this sort, and perceiving that 
 promise and faith was broken, hee fled away without utter- 
 ance of any word, from the eyes and hands of his most un- 
 happy wife. But Psyches fortuned to catch him as hee was 
 rising, by the right thigh, and held him fast as hee flew above 
 in the aire, untill such time as constrained by wearinesse shee 
 let goe and fell downe upon the ground. But Cupid followed 
 
 P
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER her downe, and lighted upon the top of a Cypresse tree, and 
 
 XXII angerly spake unto her in this manner : O simple Psyches, 
 
 e most colder w ith thy selfe how I, little regarding the commande- 
 
 delectable tale men t of my mother (who willed mee that thou shouldst bee 
 
 of the mar- married to a man of base and miserable condition) did come 
 
 riage of Cupid m y selfe from heaven to love thee, and wounded myne owne 
 
 and Psyches k o( jy with my proper weapons, to have thee to my Spowse : 
 
 And did I seeme a beast unto thee, that thou shouldst go 
 
 about to cut off my head with a razor, who loved thee so 
 
 well ? Did not I alwayes give thee a charge ? Did not I 
 
 gently will thee to beware ? But those cursed aiders and 
 
 Counsellors of thine shall be worthily rewarded for their 
 
 paines. As for thee thou shalt be sufficiently punished by 
 
 my absence. When hee had spoken these words he tooke 
 
 his flight into the aire. Then Psyches fell flat on the ground, 
 
 and as long as she could see her husband she cast her eyes 
 
 after him into the aire, weeping and lamenting pitteously : 
 
 but when hee was gone out of her sight shee threw her selfe 
 
 into the next running river, for the great anguish and dolour 
 
 that shee was in for the lack of her husband ; howbeit the 
 
 water would not suffer her to be drowned, but tooke pitty 
 
 upon her, in the honour of Cupid which accustomed to 
 
 broyle and burne the river, and threw her upon the bank 
 
 amongst the herbs. 
 
 Then Pan the rusticall god sitting on the river side, embrac- 
 ing and [teaching] the goddesse Canna to tune her songs and 
 pipes, by whom were feeding the young and tender Goats, after 
 that he perceived Psyches in sorrowfull case, not ignorant (I 
 know not by what meanes) of her miserable estate, endeavored 
 to pacific her in this sort : O faire maid, I am a rusticke and 
 rude heardsman, howbeit by reason of my old age expert in 
 many things, for as farre as I can learne by conjecture 
 (which according as wise men doe terme is called divination) 
 I perceive by your uncertaine gate, your pale hew, your sob- 
 bing sighes, and your watery eyes, that you are greatly in 
 love. Wherefore hearken to me, and goe not about to slay 
 your selfe, nor weepe not at all, but rather adore and worship 
 the great god Cupid, and winne him unto you by your gentle 
 promise of service. 
 114
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 When the god of Shepheards had spoken these words, she CHAPTER 
 gave no answer, but made reverence to him as to a god, and XXII 
 so departed. iSLt^fnd 
 
 After that Psyches had gone a little way, she fortuned delectable tale 
 unawares to come to a city where the husband of one of her of the mar- 
 Sisters did dwell. Which when Psyches did understand, shee ria e olf Cupid 
 caused that her sister had knowledge of her comming, and and Psvche8 
 so they met together, and after great embracing and saluta- 
 tion, the sister of Psyches demaunded the cause of her tra- 
 vell thither. Marry (quoth she) doe you not remember the 
 counsell you gave me, whereby you would that I should kill 
 the beast which under colour of my husband did lie with 
 mee every night ? You shall understand, that as soone as I 
 brought forth the lampe to see and behold his shape, I per- 
 ceived that he was the sonne of Venus, even Cupid himselfe 
 that lay with mee. Then I being stricken with great pleasure, 
 and desirous to embrace him, could not throughly asswage 
 my delight, but alas by evill chance the boyling oyle of the 
 lampe fortuned to fall on his shoulder, which caused him to 
 awake, and seeing me armed with fire and weapons, gan say, 
 How darest thou be so bold to doe so great a mischiefe ? 
 depart from me and take such things as thou didst bring : 
 for I will have thy sister (and named you) to my wife, and she 
 shall be placed in thy felicity, and by and by hee commaunded 
 Zephyrus to carry me away from the bounds of his house. 
 
 Psyches had scantly finished her tale, but her sister pierced 
 with the pricke of carnall desire and wicked envy, ran home, 
 and feigning to her husband that shee had heard word of the 
 death of her parents, tooke shipping and came to the moun- 
 taine. And although there blew a contrary winde, yet being 
 brought in a vaine hope, she cried, O Cupid take me a more 
 worthy wife, and thou Zephyrus beare downe thy mistresse, 
 and so she cast her selfe headlong from the mountaine : but 
 shee fell not into the valley neither alive nor dead, for all 
 the members and parts of her body were torne amongst the 
 rockes, wherby she was made a prey unto the birds and wild 
 beasts, as she worthily deserved. 
 
 Neither was the vengeance of the other delayed, for 
 Psyches travelling in that country, fortuned to come to 
 
 115
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER another city where her other sister did dwel ; to whom when 
 
 XXII s hee had declared all such things as she told to her other 
 
 The most s j s t erj snee ran likewise unto the rock and was slaine in like 
 
 delectable tale SO1 '^' Then Psyches travelled about in the countrey to seeke 
 
 of the mar- her husband Cupid, but he was gotten into his mothers 
 
 riage of Cupid chamber, and there bewailed the sorrowfull wound which he 
 
 and Psyches cau ght by the oyle of a burning lamp. 
 
 Then the white bird the Gull, which swims on the waves 
 of the water, flew toward the Ocean sea, where he found 
 Venus washing and bathing her selfe : to whom she declared 
 that her son was burned and in danger of death, and more- 
 over that it was a common brute in the mouth of every 
 person (who spake evill of all the family of Venus) that her 
 son doth nothing but haunt harlots in the mountain, and she 
 her self lasciviously use to ryot in the sea: wherby they 
 say that they are now become no more gratious, pleasant, 
 nor gentle, but incivile, monstrous and horrible. Moreover, 
 that marriages are not for any amity, or for love of procrea- 
 tion, but full of envy, discord, and debate. This the curious 
 Gul did clatter in the ears of Venus, reprehending her son. 
 But Venus began to cry and sayd, What hath my sonne 
 gotten any Love ? I pray thee gentle bird that doest serve 
 me so faithfully, tell me what she is, and what is her name 
 that hath troubled my son in such sort ? whether shee be any 
 of the Nymphs, of the number of the goddesses, of the com- 
 pany of the Muses, or of the mistery of the Graces ? To 
 whom the bird answered, Madam I know not what shee is, 
 but this I know that she is called Psyches. Then Venus with 
 indignation cried out, What is it she ? the usurper of my 
 beauty, the Vicar of my name ? What did he think that I 
 was a bawd, by whose shew he fell acquainted with the maid ? 
 And immediately she departed and went to her chamber, 
 where she found her son wounded as it was told unto her, 
 whom when she beheld she cries out in this sort, 
 
 Is this an honest thing, is this honourable to thy parents ? 
 is this reason, that thou hast violated and broken the com- 
 mandement of thy mother and soveraign mistresse : and 
 whereas thou shouldst have vexed my enemy with loathsom 
 love, thou hast done otherwise ? 
 116
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 For beeing of tender and unripe yeares, thou hast with CHAPTER 
 too licentious appetite embraced my most mortall Foe, to XXII 
 whome I shall bee made a mother, and shee a Daughter. , ' I" 08 * , 
 
 Thou presumest and thinkest, thou trifling boy, thou delectable tale 
 Varlet, and without all reverence, that thou art most worthy of the mar- 
 and excellent, and that I am not able by reason of myne age "age of Cupid 
 to have another son, which if I should have, thou shouldst 
 well understand that I would beare a more worthier than 
 thou. But to worke thee a greater despight, I do determine 
 to adopt one of my servants, and to give him these wings, 
 this fire, this bow, and these Arrowes, and all other furniture 
 which I gave to thee, not to this purpose, neither is any 
 thing given thee of thy father for this intent : but first thou 
 hast beene evill brought up, and instructed in thy youth 
 thou hast thy hands ready and sharpe. Thou hast often 
 offended thy antients, and especially me that am thy mother, 
 thou hast pierced mee with thy darts, thou contemnest me as 
 a widow, neither dost thou regard thy valiant and invincible 
 father, and to anger me more, thou art amorous of harlots 
 and wenches : but I will cause that thou shalt shortly repent 
 thee, and that this marriage shalbe dearely bought. To what 
 a point am [I] now driven ? What shall I do ? Whether 
 shall I goe ? How shall I represse this beast ? Shall I aske 
 ayd of myne enemy Sobriety, whom I have often offended to 
 engender thee ? Or shall I seeke for counsel of every poore 
 rusticall woman ? No, no, yet had I rather dye, howbeit I will 
 not cease my vengeance, to her must I have recourse for helpe, 
 and to none other (I meane to Sobriety), who may correct 
 thee sharpely, take away thy quiver, deprive thee of thy 
 arrowes, unbend thy bow, quench thy fire, and which is more, 
 subdue thy body with punishment: and when that I have 
 rased and cut off this thy haire, which I have dressed with 
 myne owne hands, and made to glitter like gold, and when I 
 have clipped thy wings, which I my selfe have caused to 
 burgen, then shall I thinke to have revenged my selfe suffi- 
 ciently upon thee for the injury which thou hast done. When 
 shee had spoken these words shee departed in a great rage 
 out of her chamber, 
 
 Immediatelie as she was going away came Juno and Ceres, 
 
 117
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER demaunding the cause of her anger. Then Venus answered, 
 XXII Verily you are come to comfort my sorrow, but I pray you 
 
 
 
 pleasant and w *^ n a ^ diligence to seeke out one whose name is Psyches, 
 delectable tale wno * s a vagabond, and runneth about the Countries, and 
 of the mar- (as I thinke) you are not ignorant of the brute of my son 
 riage of Cupid Cupid, and of his demeanour, which I am ashamed to declare. 
 and Psyches Then they understanding the whole matter, endeavoured to 
 mitigate the ire of Venus in this sort : What is the cause 
 Madam, or how hath your son so offended, that you shold 
 so greatly accuse his love, and blame him by reason that he 
 is amorous ? and why should you seeke the death of her, 
 whom he doth fancie ? We most humbly intreat you to 
 pardon his fault, if hee have accorded to the mind of any 
 maiden : what do you not know that he is a young man ? 
 Or have you forgotten of what yeeres he is ? Doth he 
 seeme alwayes unto you to be a childe ? You are his mother, 
 and a kind woman, will you continually search out his 
 dalliance ? Will you blame his luxury ? Will you bridle 
 his love ? and will you reprehend your owne art and delights 
 in him ? What God or man is hee, that can endure that 
 you should sowe or disperse your seed of love in every place, 
 and to make restraint thereof within your owne doores ? 
 certes you will be the cause of the suppression of the publike 
 paces of young Dames. In this sort this goddesse en- 
 deavoured to pacifie her mind, and to excuse Cupid with al 
 their power (although he were absent) for feare of his darts 
 and shafts of love. But Venus would in no wise asswage her 
 heat, but (thinking that they did rather trifle and taunt at 
 her injuries) she departed from them, and tooke her voiage 
 towards the sea in all haste. In the meane season Psyches 
 hurled her selfe hither and thither, to seeke her husband, 
 the rather because she thought that if he would not be 
 appeased with the sweet flattery of his wife, yet he would 
 take mercy on her at her servile and continuall prayers. 
 And (espying a Church on the top of a high hill) she said, 
 What can I tell whether my husband and master be there or 
 no ? wherefore she went thitherward, and with great paine 
 and travell, moved by hope, after that she climbed to the 
 top of the mountaine, she came to the temple, and went in, 
 118
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 wheras behold she espied sheffes of corn lying on a heap, CHAPTER 
 blades withered with garlands, and reeds of barly, moreover XXII 
 she saw hooks, sithes, sickles, and other instruments, to reape, ^ e " lost , 
 but every thing lay out of order, and as it were cast in by delectable tale 
 the hands of laborers, which when Psyches saw she gathered of the mar- 
 up and put every thing in order, thinking that she would ria ge of Cupid 
 not despise or contemne the temples of any of the Gods, but and Ps y ches 
 rather get the favour and benevolence of them all : by and 
 by Ceres came in, and beholding her busie and curious in her 
 chapell, cried out a far off, and said, O Psyches need full of 
 mercy, Venus searcheth for thee in every place to revenge 
 her selfe and to punish thee grievously, but thou hast more 
 mind to be heere, and carest for nothing lesse, then for thy 
 safety. Then Psyches fell on her knees before her, watring 
 her feet with her teares, wiping the ground with her haire, 
 and with great weeping and lamentation desired pardon, 
 saying, O great and holy Goddesse, I pray thee by thy 
 plenteous and liberall right hand, by the joy full ceremonies 
 of thy harvest, by the secrets of thy Sacrifice, by the flying 
 chariots of thy dragons, by the tillage of the ground of 
 Sicilie, which thou hast invented, by the marriage of Pro- 
 serpin, by the diligent inquisition of thy daughter, and by 
 the other secrets which are within the temple of Eleusis in 
 the land of Athens, take pitty on me thy servant Psyches, 
 and let me hide my selfe a few dayes amongst these sheffes 
 of corne, untill the ire of so great a Goddesse be past, or 
 untill that I be refreshed of my great labour and travell. 
 Then answered Ceres, Verely Psyches, I am greatly moved by 
 thy prayers and teares, and desire with all my heart to aide 
 thee, but if I should suffer thee to be hidden here, I should 
 increase the displeasure of my Cosin, with whom I have 
 made a treatie of peace, and an ancient promise of amity : 
 wherefore I advise thee to depart hence and take it not in 
 evil part in that I will not suffer thee to abide and remaine 
 here within my temple. Then Psyches driven away con- 
 trary to her hope, was double afflicted with sorrow, and so 
 she returned back againe. And behold she perceived a far 
 off in a vally a Temple standing within a Forest, faire 
 and curiously wrought, and minding to over-passe no place
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER whither better hope did direct her, and to the intent she 
 XXII would desire pardon of every God, she approached nigh unto 
 The most ^ e gac^d doore, whereas she saw pretious riches and vesti- 
 delectable tale men ts ingraven with letters of gold, hanging upon branches 
 of the mar- of trees, and the posts of the temple testifying the name of 
 riage of Cupid the goddesse Juno, to whom they were dedicate, then she 
 and Psyches kneeled downe upon her knees, and imbraced the Alter with 
 her hands, and wiping her teares, gan pray in this sort : O 
 deere spouse and sister of the great God Jupiter which art 
 adored and worshipped amongst the great temples of Samos, 
 called upon by women with child, worshipped at high 
 Carthage, because thou wast brought from heaven by the 
 lyon, the rivers of the floud Inachus do celebrate thee : and 
 know that thou art the wife of the great god, and the god- 
 desse of goddesses ; all the east part of the world have thee 
 in veneration, all the world calleth thee Lucina : I pray thee 
 to be my advocate in my tribulations, deliver me from the 
 great danger which pursueth me, and save me that am weary 
 with so long labours and sorrow, for I know that it is thou 
 that succorest and helpest such women as are with child and 
 in danger. Then Juno hearing the prayers of Psyches, 
 appeared unto her in all her royalty, saying, Certes Psyches 
 I would gladly help thee, but I am ashamed to do any thing 
 contrary to the will of my daughter in law Venus, whom 
 alwaies I have loved as mine owne child, moreover I shall 
 incurre the danger of the law, intituled, De servo corrupto^ 
 whereby I am forbidden to retaine any servant fugitive, 
 against the will of his Master. Then Psyches cast off like- 
 wise by Juno, as without all hope of the recovery of her 
 husband, reasoned with her selfe in this sort : Now what 
 comfort or remedy is left to my afflictions, when as my 
 prayers will nothing availe with the goddesses ? what shall I 
 do ? whither shall I go ? In what cave or darknesse shall 
 I hide my selfe, to avoid the furor of Venus ? Why do I 
 not take a good heart, and offer my selfe with humilitie 
 unto her, whose anger I have wrought ? What do I know 
 whether he (whom I seeke for) be in his mothers house or 
 no ? Thus being in doubt, poore Psyches prepared her selfe 
 to her owne danger, and devised how she might make her 
 120
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 orison and prayer unto Venus. After that Venus was weary CHAPTER 
 with searching by Sea and Land for Psyches, shee returned XXII 
 toward heaven, and commanded that one should prepare her The most 
 
 Chariot, which her husband Vulcanus gave unto her by ? , I'^i f n i d 
 f i i_j. j.i T -1.1 11 J delectable tale 
 
 reason or marriage, so finely wrought that neither gold nor O f the mar- 
 silver could be compared to the brightnesse therof. Four riage of Cupid 
 white pigeons guided the chariot with great diligence, and an( ^ Psyches 
 when Venus was entred in, a number of sparrowes flew 
 chirping about, making signe of joy, and all other kind of 
 birds sang sweetly, foreshewing the comming of the great 
 goddesse : the clouds gave place, the heavens opened, and 
 received her joyfully, the birds that followed nothing feared 
 the Eagle, Hawkes, or other ravenous foules of the aire. 
 Incontinently she went unto the royall Pallace of God 
 Jupiter, and with a proud and bold petition demanded the 
 service of Mercury, in certaine of her affaires, whereunto 
 Jupiter consented : then with much joy shee descended from 
 Heaven with Mercury, and gave him an earnest charge to 
 put in execution her words, saying : O my Brother, borne 
 in Arcadia, thou knowest well, that I (who am thy sister) 
 did never enterprise to doe any thing without thy presence, 
 thou knowest also how long I have sought for a girle and 
 cannot finde her, wherefore there resteth nothing else save 
 that thou with thy trumpet doe pronounce the reward to 
 such as take her : see thou put in execution my commande- 
 ment, and declare that whatsoever he be that retaineth her 
 wittingly, against my will shall not defend himselfe by any 
 meane or excusation : which when she had spoken, she 
 delivered unto him a libell, wherein was contained the name 
 of Psyches, and the residue of his publication, which done, 
 she departed away to her lodging. By and by, Mercurius 
 (not delaying the matter) proclaimed throughout all the 
 world, that whatsoever hee were that could tell any tydings 
 of a Kings fugitive Daughter, the servant of Venus, named 
 Psyches, should bring word to Mercury, and for reward of 
 his paines, he should receive seaven sweet kisses of Venus. 
 After that Mercury had pronounced these things, every man 
 was enflamed with desire to search out Psyches. 
 
 This proclamation was the cause that put all doubt from 
 
 Q
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER Psyches, who was scantly come in the sight of the house of 
 XXII Venus, but one of her servants called Custome came out, who 
 The most es pyi n g Psyches, cried with a loud voyce, saying : O wicked 
 electabletale nar lt as thou art, now at length thou shalt know that thou 
 of the mar- hast a mistresse above thee. What, dost thou make thy 
 riage of Cupid selfe ignorant, as though thou didst not understand what 
 and Psyches travell wee have taken in searching for thee? I am glad 
 that thou art come into my hands, thou art now in the gulfe 
 of hell, and shalt abide the paine and punishment of thy 
 great contumacy, and therewithall she tooke her by the 
 haire, and brought her in, before the presence of the god- 
 desse Venus. When Venus spied her, shee began to laugh, 
 and as angry persons accustome to doe, she shaked her head, 
 and scratched her right eare saying, O goddesse, goddesse, 
 you are now come at length to visit your husband that is in 
 danger of death, by your meanes : bee you assured, I will 
 handle you like a daughter : where be my maidens, Sorrow 
 and Sadnesse ? To whom (when they came) she delivered 
 Psyches to be cruelly tormented ; then they fulfilled the 
 commandement of their Mistresse, and after they had 
 piteously scourged her with rods and whips, they presented 
 her againe before Venus ; then she began to laugh againe, say- 
 ing : Behold she thinketh (that by reason of her great belly, 
 which she hath gotten by playing the whore) to move me to 
 pitty, and to make me a grandmother to her childe. Am 
 not I happy, that in the flourishing time of al mine age, 
 shall be called a grandmother, and the sonne of a vile harlot 
 shall bee accounted the nephew of Venus : Howbeit I am a 
 foole to tearm him by the name of my son, since as the 
 marriage was made betweene unequall persons, in the field 
 without witnesses, and not by the consent of parents, where- 
 fore the marriage is illegitimate, and the childe (that shall 
 be borne) a bastard ; if we fortune to suffer thee to live so 
 long till thou be delivered. When Venus had spoken these 
 words she leaped upon the face of poore Psyches, and (tear- 
 ing her apparell) tooke her by the haire, and dashed her 
 head upon the ground. Then she tooke a great quantity 
 of wheat, of barly, poppy seede, peason, lintles, and 
 beanes, and mingled them altogether on a heape saying : 
 1XX
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 Thou evill favoured girle, thou seemest unable to get the CHAPTER 
 grace of thy lover, by no other meanes, but only by diligent XXII 
 and painefull service, wherefore I will prove what thou canst , The most 
 doe : see that thou separate all these graines one from another, ddeSabletale 
 disposing them orderly in their quantity, and let it be done of the mar- 
 before night. When she had appointed this taske unto riage of Cupid 
 Psyches, she departed to a great banket that was prepared and 
 that day. But Psyches went not about to dissever the 
 graine, (as being a thing impossible to be brought to passe 
 by reason it lay so confusedly scattered) but being astonyed 
 at the cruell commandement of Venus, sate still and said 
 nothing. Then the little pismire the emote, taking pitty of 
 her great difficulty and labour, cursing the cruellnesse of the 
 daughter of Jupiter, and of so evill a mother, ran about, 
 hither and thither, and called to all her friends, Yee quick 
 sons of the ground, the mother of all things, take mercy on 
 this poore maid, espouse to Cupid, who is in great danger of 
 her person, I pray you helpe her with all diligence. Incon- 
 tinently one came after another, dissevering and dividing the 
 graine, and after that they had put each kinde of corne in 
 order, they ranne away againe in all haste. When night came, 
 Venus returned home from the banket wel tippled with wine, 
 smelling of balme, and crowned with garlands of roses, who 
 when shee had espied what Psyches had done, gan say, This 
 is not the labour of thy hands, but rather of his that is 
 amorous of thee : then she gave her a morsel of brown bread, 
 and went to sleep. In the mean season, Cupid was closed 
 fast in the surest chamber of the house, partly because he 
 should not hurt himself with wanton dalliance, and partly 
 because he should not speake with his love : so these two 
 lovers were divided one from another. When night was 
 passed Venus called Psyches, and said, Seest thou yonder 
 Forest that extendeth out in length with the river ? there be 
 great sheepe shining like gold, and kept by no manner of 
 person. I command thee that thou go thither and bring me 
 home some of the wooll of their fleeces. Psyches arose will- 
 ingly not to do her commandement, but to throw her selfe 
 headlong into the water to end her sorrows. Then a green 
 reed inspired by divine inspiration, with a gratious tune and 
 
 123
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER melody gan say, O Psyches I pray thee not to trouble or 
 XXII pollute my water by the death of thee, and yet beware that 
 The most thou goe not towards the terrible sheepe of this coast, untill 
 detectable tele sucn time as ^ ne nea ^ f the sunne be past, for when the 
 of the mar- sunne is in his force, then seeme they most dreadfull and 
 riage of Cupid furious, with their sharpe homes, their stony foreheads and 
 and Psyches their gaping throats, wherewith they arme themselves to the 
 destruction of mankinde. But untill they have refreshed 
 themselves in the river, thou maist hide thy selfe here by me, 
 under this great plaine tree, and as soone as their great fury 
 is past, thou maist goe among the thickets and bushes under 
 the wood side and gather the lockes of their golden Fleeces, 
 which thou shalt finde hanging upon the briers. Then spake 
 the gentle and benigne reed, shewing a mean to Psyches to 
 save her life, which she bore well in memory, and with all 
 diligence went and gathered up such lockes as shee found, 
 and put them in her apron, and carried them home to Venus. 
 Howbeit the danger of this second labour did not please her, 
 nor give her sufficient witnesse of the good service of Psyches, 
 but with a sower resemblance of laughter, did say : Of a 
 certaine I know that this is not thy fact, but I will prove if 
 that thou bee of so stout, so good a courage, and singular 
 prudency as thou seemest to bee. Then Venus spake unto 
 Psyches againe saying : Seest thou the toppe of yonder great 
 Hill, from whence there runneth downe waters of blacke and 
 deadly colour, which nourisheth the floods of Stix, Cocytus ? 
 I charge thee to goe thither, and bring me a vessell of that 
 water: wherewithall she gave her a bottle of Christall, 
 menacing and threatning her rigorously. Then poor Psyches 
 went in all haste to the top of the mountaine, rather to end 
 her life, then to fetch any water, and when she was come up 
 to the ridge of the hill, she perceived that it was impossible 
 to bring it to passe : for she saw a great rocke gushing out 
 most horrible fountaines of waters, which ran downe and fell 
 by many stops and passages into the valley beneath : on each 
 side shee did see great Dragons, which were stretching out 
 their long and bloody Neckes, that did never sleepe, but 
 appointed to keepe the river there : the waters seemed to 
 themselves likewise saying, Away, away, what wilt thou doe ? 
 124
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 flie, flie, or else thou wilt be slaine. Then Psyches (seeing the CHAPTER 
 impossibility of this affaire) stood still as though she were XXII 
 transformed into a stone, and although she was present in /^ e most 
 body, yet was she absent in spirit and sense, by reason of the delectable tale 
 great perill which she saw, insomuch that she could not of the mar- 
 comfort her self with weeping, such was the present danger riage of Cupid 
 that she was in. But the royall bird of great Jupiter, the and 
 Eagle remembring his old service which he had done, when 
 as by the pricke of Cupid he brought up the boy Ganimedes, 
 to the heavens, to be made butler of Jupiter, and minding 
 to shew the like service in the person of the wife of Cupid, 
 came from the high-house of the Skies, and said unto 
 Psyches, O simple woman without all experience, doest thou 
 thinke to get or dip up any drop of this dreadfull water ? 
 No, no, assure thy selfe thou art never able to come nigh 
 it, for the Gods themselves do greatly feare at the sight 
 thereof. What, have you not heard, that it is a custome 
 among men to sweare by the puissance of the Gods, and 
 the Gods do sweare by the majesty of the river Stix ? But 
 give me thy bottle, and sodainly he tooke it, and filled it 
 with the water of the river, and taking his flight through 
 those cruell and horrible dragons, brought it unto Psyches : 
 who being very joyfull thereof, presented it to Venus, who 
 would not yet be appeased, but menacing more and more said, 
 What, thou seemest unto me a very witch and enchauntresse, 
 that bringest these things to passe, howbeit thou shalt do no- 
 thing more. Take this box and to Hell to Proserpina, and 
 desire her to send me a little of her beauty, as much as will 
 serve me the space of one day, and say that such as I had is 
 consumed away since my sonne fell sicke, but returne againe 
 quickly, for I must dresse my selfe therewithall, and goe to 
 the Theatre of the Gods : then poore Psyches perceived the 
 end of all fortune, thinking verely that she should never re- 
 turne, and not without cause, when as she was compelled to 
 go to the gulfe and furies of hell. Wherefore without any 
 further delay, she went up to an high tower to throw her 
 selfe downe headlong (thinking that it was the next and 
 readiest way to hell) but the tower (as inspired) spake unto 
 her saying, O poore miser, why goest thou about to slay thy
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 CHAPTER selfe ? Why dost them rashly yeeld unto thy last perill and 
 XXII danger ? know thou that if thy spirit be once separated 
 The most f rom thy body, thou shalt surely go to hell, but never to 
 delectable tele re turne againe, wherefore harken to me ; Lacedemon a Citie 
 of the mar- in Greece is not farre hence : go thou thither and enquire 
 riage of Cupid for the hill Tenarus, whereas thou shalt find a hold leading 
 and Psyches to ne ll, even to the Pallace of Pluto, but take heede thou go 
 not with emptie hands to that place of darknesse : but carrie 
 two sops sodden in the flour of barley and Honney in thy 
 hands, and two halfepence in thy mouth. And when thou hast 
 passed a good part of that way, thou shalt see a lame Asse 
 carrying of wood, and a lame fellow driving him, who will 
 desire thee to give him up the sticks that fall downe, but 
 passe thou on and do nothing ; by and by thou shalt come 
 unto a river of hell, whereas Charon is ferriman, who will 
 first have his fare paied him, before he will carry the soules 
 over the river in his boat, whereby you may see that avarice 
 raigneth amongst the dead, neither Charon nor Pluto will do 
 any thing for nought : for if it be a poore man that would 
 passe over and lacketh money, he shal be compelled to die 
 in his journey before they will shew him any reliefe, where- 
 fore deliver to carraine Charon one of the halfepence (which 
 thou bearest for thy passage) and let him receive it out of thy 
 mouth. And it shall come to passe as thou sittest in the 
 boat thou shalt see an old man swimming on the top of the 
 river, holding up his deadly hands, and desiring thee to 
 receive him into the barke, but have no regard to his piteous 
 cry: when thou art passed over the floud, thou shalt espie old 
 women spinning, who will desire thee to helpe them, but 
 beware thou do not consent unto them in any case, for these 
 and like baits and traps will Venus set to make thee let fall 
 one of thy sops, and thinke not that the keeping of thy sops 
 is a light matter, for if thou leese one of them thou shalt be 
 assured never to returne againe to this world. Then shalt 
 thou see a great and marvailous dogge, with three heads, 
 barking continually at the soules of such as enter in, but he 
 can do them no other harme, he lieth day and night before 
 the gate of Proserpina, and keepeth the house of Pluto with 
 great diligence, to whom if thou cast one of thy sops, thou 
 126
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 maist have accesse to Proserpina without all danger : shee CHAPTER 
 
 will make thee good cheere, and entertaine thee with delicate XXII 
 
 meate and drinke, but sit thou upon the ground, and desire /^ ost , 
 
 browne bread, and then declare thy message unto her, and Selectable tale 
 
 when thou hast received such beauty as she giveth, in thy O f the mar- 
 
 returne appease the rage of the dogge with thy other sop, riage of Cupid 
 
 and give thy other halfe penny to covetous Charon, and an 
 
 come the same way againe into the world as thou wentest : 
 
 but above all things have a regard that thou looke not in the 
 
 boxe, neither be not too curious about the treasure of the 
 
 divine beauty. In this manner the tower spake unto Psyches, 
 
 and advertised her what she should do : and immediatly she 
 
 tooke two halfe pence, two sops, and all things necessary, 
 
 and went to the mountaine Tenarus to go towards hell. 
 
 After that Psyches had passed by the lame Asse, paid her 
 
 halfe pennie for passage, neglected the old man in the river, 
 
 denyed to helpe the women spinning, and filled the ravenous 
 
 mouth of the dogge with a sop, shee came to the chamber of 
 
 Proserpina. There Psyches would not sit in any royall seate, 
 
 nor eate any delicate meates, but kneeled at the feete of 
 
 Proserpina, onely contented with course bread, declared her 
 
 message, and after she had received a mysticall secret in a 
 
 boxe, she departed, and stopped the mouth of the dogge with 
 
 the other sop, and paied the boat-man the other halfe penny. 
 
 When Psyches was returned from hell, to the light of the 
 
 world, shee was ravished with great desire, saying, Am not I 
 
 a foole, that knowing that I carrie heere the divine beauty, 
 
 will not take a little thereof to garnish my face, to please 
 
 my love withall ? And by and by shee opened the boxe 
 
 where she could perceive no beauty nor any thing else, save 
 
 onely an infernall and deadly sleepe, which immediatly 
 
 invaded all her members as soone as the boxe was uncovered, 
 
 in such sort that shee fell downe upon the ground, and lay 
 
 there as a sleeping corps. 
 
 But Cupid being now healed of his wound and Maladie, 
 not able to endure the absence of Psyches, got him secretly 
 out at a window of the chamber where hee was enclosed, and 
 (receiving his wings,) tooke his flight towards his loving wife, 
 whom when he had found, hee wiped away the sleepe from 
 
 127
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 
 C H AFTER her face, and put it againe into the boxe, and awaked her with 
 XXII the tip of one of his arrows, saving : O wretched Caitife, be- 
 
 The most ^ o \^ thou wert well-nigh perished againe, with the overmuch 
 pleasant and . ... ,, , l e > , r ,. 
 
 delectable tale curiositie : well, goe thou, and do thy message to my .Mother, 
 
 of the mar- and in the meaiie season, I will provide for all things accord- 
 riage of Cupid iiigly : wherewithall he tooke his flight into the aire, and 
 and Psyches p s y c hes brought her present to Venus. 
 
 Cupid being more and more in love with Psyches, and 
 fearing the displeasure of his Mother, did pearce into the 
 heavens, and arrived before Jupiter to declare his cause: then 
 Jupiter after that hee had eftsoone embraced him, gan say in 
 this manner : O my well beloved sonne, although thou haste 
 not given due reverence and honour unto me as thou oughtest 
 to doe, but haste rather spoiled and wounded this my brest 
 (whereby the laws and order of the Elements and Planets 
 be disposed) with continuall assaults, of Terren luxury and 
 against all laws, and the discipline Julia, and the utility of 
 the publike weale, in transforming my divine beauty into 
 serpents, fire, savage beasts, birds, and into Bulles : Howbeit 
 remembring my modesty, and that I have nourished thee 
 with mine owne proper hands, I will doe and accomplish all 
 thy desire, so that thou canst beware of spitefull and envious 
 persons. And if there be any excellent Maiden of comely 
 beauty in the world, remember yet the benefit which I shall 
 shew unto thee by recompence of her love towards me againe. 
 When he had spoken these words he commanded Mercury 
 to call all the gods to counsell, and if any of the celestiall 
 powers did faile of appearance he would be condemned in 
 ten thousand pounds : which sentence was such a terrour to 
 all the goddesses, that the high Theatre was replenished, and 
 Jupiter began to speake in this sort : O yee gods, registred 
 in the bookes of the Muses, you all know this young man 
 Cupid whom I have nourished with mine owne hands, whose 
 raging flames of his first youth, I thought best to bridle and 
 restraine. It sufficeth that hee is defamed in every place for 
 his adulterous living, wherefore all occasion ought to bee 
 taken away by meane of marriage : he hath chosen a Maiden 
 that fancieth him well, and hath bereaved her of her virginity, 
 let him have her still, and possesse her according to his owne 
 128
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHES 
 
 pleasure : then he returned to Venus, and said, And you my CHAPTER 
 daughter, take you no care, neither feare the dishonour of XXII 
 your progeny and estate, neither have regard in that it is a J^ 16 most 
 mortall marriage, for it seemeth unto me just, lawfull, and delectable tal 
 legitimate by the law civill. Incontinently after, Jupiter O f the mar- 
 commanded Mercury to bring up Psyches, the spouse of riage of Cupid 
 Cupid, into the Pallace of heaven. And then he tooke a pot an 
 of immortality, and said, Hold Psyches, and drinke, to the end 
 thou maist be immortall, and that Cupid may be thine ever- 
 lasting husband. By and by the great banket and marriage 
 feast was sumptuously prepared, Cupid sate downe with his 
 deare spouse betweene his armes: Juno likewise with Jupiter, 
 and all the other gods in order, Ganimedes filled the pot of 
 Jupiter, and Bacchus served the rest. Their drinke was 
 Nectar, the wine of the gods, Vulcanus prepared supper, 
 the howers decked up the house with roses and other 
 sweet smells, the graces threw about balme, the Muses 
 sang with sweet harmony, Apollo tuned pleasantly to the 
 Harpe, Venus danced finely : Satirus and Paniscus plaid 
 on their pipes ; and thus Psyches was married to Cupid, 
 and after she was delivered of a child whom we call Pleasure. 
 This the trifling old woman declared unto the cap- 
 tive maiden : but I poore Asse, not standing farre of, 
 was not a little sorry in that I lacked pen and 
 inke to write so worthy a tale. 
 
 129
 
 THE SIXTH BOOKE 
 
 THE TWENTY-THIRD CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius carried away the Gentlewoman, 
 
 and how they were taken againe by the 
 
 theeves, and what a kind of death 
 
 was invented for them. 
 
 Y and by the theeves came home laden with 
 treasure, and many of them which were of 
 strongest courage (leaving behind such as 
 were lame and wounded, to heale and aire 
 themselves) said they would returne backe 
 againe to fetch the rest of their pillage, 
 which they had hidden in a certaine cave, 
 and so they snatched up their dinner 
 greedily, and brought us forth into the way and beate us 
 before them with staves. About night (after that we had 
 passed over many hilles and dales) we came to a great cave, 
 where they laded us with mighty burthens, and would not 
 suffer us to refresh our selves any season but brought us 
 againe in our way, and hied so fast homeward, that what with 
 their haste and their cruell stripes, I fell downe upon a stone 
 by the way side, then they beate me pittifully in lifting me 
 up, and hurt my right thigh and my left hoofe, and one of 
 them said, What shall we do with this lame 111 favoured Asse, 
 that is not worth the meate he eats ? And other said, 
 Since the time that we had him first he never did any good, 
 and I thinke he came unto our house with evill lucke, for we 
 have had great wounds since, and losse of our valiant cap- 
 taines, and other said, As soone as he hath brought home his 
 burthen, I will surely throw him out upon the mountaine to 
 be a pray for wild beasts : While these gentlemen reasoned 
 together of my death, we fortuned to come home, for the 
 feare that I was in, caused my feet to turne into wings : after 
 that we were discharged of our burthens, they went to their 
 fellowes that were wounded, and told them of our great tardity 
 130
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 and slownesse by the way, neither was I brought into small CHAPTER 
 anguish, when I perceived my death prepared before my face : XXIII 
 Why standest thou still Lucius ? Why dost thou not looke How A P ul eius 
 for thy death ? Knowst thou not that the theeves have the GeS 
 ordained to slay thee ? seest thou not these sharpe and woman, and 
 pointed flints which shall bruise and teare thee in peeces, if how they were 
 by adventure thou happen upon them ? Thy gentle Magitian ^ken againe 
 hath not onely given thee the shape and travell of an Asse, S^d^wh?^ 
 but also a skinne so soft and tender as it were a swallow : why kind of death 
 dost thou not take courage and runne away to save thy selfe ? was invented 
 Art thou afraid of the old woman more then halfe dead, for them 
 whom with a stripe of thy heele thou maist easily dispatch ? 
 But whither shall I fly ? What lodging shall I seek ? See 
 my Assy cogitation. Who is he that passeth by the way 
 and will not take me up ? While I devised these things, I 
 brake the halter wherewith I was tyed and ran away with 
 all my force, howbeit I could not escape the kitish eyes of 
 the old woman, for shee ran after me, and with more audacity 
 then becommeth her kind age, caught me by the halter and 
 thought to pull me home : but I not forgetting the cruell 
 purpose of the theeves, was mooved with small pity, for I 
 kicked her with my hinder heeles to the ground and had 
 welnigh slaine her, who (although shee was throwne and 
 hurled downe) yet shee held still the halter, and would not 
 let me goe ; then shee cryed with a loud voyce and called for 
 succour, but she little prevayled, because there was no person 
 that heard her, save onely the captive gentlewoman, who 
 hearing the voice of the ola woman, came out to see what the 
 matter was, and perceiving her hanging at the halter, tooke 
 a good courage and wrested it out of her hand, and (entreat- 
 ing me with gentle words) got upon my backe. Then I 
 began to runne, and shee gently kicked mee forward, whereof 
 I was nothing displeased, for I had as great a desire to escape 
 as shee : insomuch that I seemed to scowre away like a horse. 
 And when the Gentlewoman did speake, I would answere her 
 with my neighing, and oftentimes (under colour to rub my 
 backe) I would sweetly kisse her tender feet. Then shee 
 fetching a sigh from the bottome of her heart, lifted up her 
 eyes to the heavens, saying : O soveraigne Gods, deliver mee
 
 THE SIXTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER if it be your pleasure, from these present dangers : and thou 
 XXIII cruell fortune cease thy wrath, let the sorrow suffice thee 
 How Apuldus which j have a i rea dy sustained. And thou little Asse, that 
 the" 6 GentlT ar * the occasion of my safety and liberty, if thou canst once 
 woman, and render me safe and sound to my parents, and to him that 
 how they were so greatly desireth to have mee to his wife, thou shalt see 
 If ^v, 11 i 3 ^ 116 what thankes I will give : with what honour I will reward 
 
 and what a thee > and how l wiU use thee ' First ' l wil1 bravel y dresse 
 kind of death the haires of thy forehead, and then will I finely combe thy 
 
 was invented maine, I will tye up thy rugged tayle trimly, I will decke 
 for them t nee round about with golden trappes, in such sort that thou 
 shalt glitter like the starres of the skie, I will bring thee daily 
 in my apron the kirnels of nuts, and will pamper thee up 
 with delicates ; I will set store by thee, as by one that is the 
 preserver of my life : Finally, thou shalt lack no manner of 
 thing. Moreover amongst thy glorious fare, thy great ease, 
 and the blisse of thy life, thou shalt not be destitute of 
 dignity, for thou shalt be chronicled perpetually in memory 
 of my present fortune, and the providence divine. All the 
 whole history shall be painted upon the wall of our house, 
 thou shalt be renowned throughout all the world. And it 
 shall be registred in the bookes of Doctours, that an Asse 
 saved the life of a young maiden that was captive amongst 
 Theeves : Thou shalt be numbred amongst the ancient 
 miracles : wee beleeve that by like example of truth Phryxus 
 saved himselfe from drowning upon the Ram, Arion escaped 
 upon a Dolphin, and that Europa was delivered by the Bull. 
 If Jupiter transformed himselfe into a Bull, why may it not 
 be that under the shape of this Asse, is hidden the figure of 
 a man, or some power divine ? While that the Virgin did 
 thus sorrowfully unfold her desires, we fortuned to come to 
 a place where three wayes did meet, and shee tooke me by 
 the halter, and would have me to turne on the right hand 
 to her fathers house : but I (knowing that the theeves were 
 gone that way to fetch the residue of their pillage) resisted 
 with my heau as much as I might, saying within my selfe: 
 What wilt thou doe unhappy maiden ? Why wouldst thou 
 goe so willingly to hell ? Why wilt thou runne into destruc- 
 tion by meane of my feet ? Why dost thou seek thine own 
 132
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 harme, and mine likewise? And while we strived together CHAPTER 
 whether way we might take, the theeves returned, laiden with XXIII 
 their pray, and perceived us a farre off by the light of the ^ow Apuleius 
 Moon : and after they had known us, one of them gan say, j)" ie GentfZ 
 Whither goe you so hastely ? Be you not affraid of spirits ? woman, and 
 And you (you harlot) doe you not goe to see your parents ? how they were 
 Come on, we will beare you company ? And therewithall taken againe 
 they tooke me by the halter, and drave me backe againe, b yt" et heeves, 
 beating me cruelly with a great staff'e (that they had) full of kj,^ O f death 
 knobs : then I returning againe to my ready destruction, and was invented 
 remembring the griefe of my hoofe, began to shake my head, for them 
 and to waxe lame, but he that led me by the halter said, 
 What, dost thou stumble ? Canst thou not goe ? These 
 rotten feet of thine ran well enough, but they cannot walke : 
 thou couldest mince it finely even now with the gentlewoman, 
 that thou seemedst to passe the horse Pegasus in swiftnesse. 
 In saying of these words they beat mee againe, that they 
 broke a great staffe upon mee. And when we were come 
 almost home, we saw the old woman hanging upon a bow 
 of a Cipresse tree ; then one of them cut downe the bowe 
 whereon shee hanged, and cast her into the bottome of 
 a great ditch : after this they bound the maiden and fell 
 greedily to their victuals, which the miserable old woman 
 had prepared for them. At which time they began to de- 
 vise with themselves of our death, and how they might be 
 revenged ; divers was the opinions of this divers number : 
 the first said, that hee thought best the Mayd should be 
 burned alive : the second said she should be throwne out to 
 wild beasts : the third said, she should be hanged upon a 
 gibbet : the fourth said she should be flead alive : thus was 
 the death of the poore Maiden scanned betweene them foure. 
 But one of the theeves after every man had declared his 
 judgement, did speake in this manner : It is not convenient 
 unto the oath of our company, to suffer you to waxe more 
 cruell then the quality of the offence doth merit, for I would 
 that shee should not be hanged nor burned, nor throwne to 
 beasts, nor dye any sodaine death, but by my counsell I 
 would have her punished according to her desert. You 
 know well what you have determined already of this dull 
 
 133
 
 THE SIXTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER Asse, that eateth more then he is worth, that faineth lame- 
 
 XXIII nesse, and that was the cause of the flying away of the Maid : 
 
 [owApuleius m y m j nc i j s that he shall be slaine to morrow, and when all 
 
 the" Gentl^ ^ e guts and entrailes of his body is taken out, let the 
 
 woman, and Maide be sowne into his belly, then let us lay them upon a 
 
 how they were great stone against the broiling heate of the Sunne, so they 
 
 taken againe s hall both sustaine all the punishments which you have 
 
 and wh e at Ve a 0rdained: for first the AsSG sha11 be slaine M y U have 
 kind of death determined, and she shall have her members torne and 
 
 was invented gnawne with wild beasts, when as she is bitten and rent with 
 
 for them wormes, shee shall endure the paine of the fire, when as the 
 
 broyling heat of the Sunne shall scortch and parch the belly 
 
 of the Asse, shee shall abide the gallows when the Dogs and 
 
 Vultures shall have the guts of her body hanging in their 
 
 ravenous mouthes. I pray you number all the torments which 
 
 she shall suffer : First shee shall dwell within the paunch of 
 
 an Asse : secondly her nosethrilles shall receive a carraine 
 
 stinke of the beast : thirdly shee shall dye for hunger : last of 
 
 all, shee shall finde no meane to ridde her selfe from her 
 
 paines, for her hands shall be sowen up within the skinne of 
 
 the Asse : This being said, all the Theeves consented, and 
 
 when I (poore Asse) heard and understood all their 
 
 device, I did nothing else but lament and bewayle 
 
 my dead carkasse, which should be handled in 
 
 such sort on the next morrow. 
 
 134
 
 THE 
 
 SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 of LUCIUS APULEIUS of 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 THE TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER 
 
 How hee that was left behinde at Hippata did bring 
 
 newes concerning the robbery of Miloes house, 
 
 came home and declared to his Company, that all 
 
 the fault was laid to one Apuleius his charge. 
 
 S soone as night was past, and the cleare 
 Chariot of the Sunne had spred his bright 
 beames on every coast, came one of the 
 company of the theeves, (for so his and 
 their greeting together did declare) who 
 at the first entry into the Cave (after hee 
 had breathed himselfe, and was able to 
 speake) told these tydings unto his com- 
 panions in this sort. Sirs, as touching the house of Milo of 
 Hippata, which we forcibly entred and ransackt the last day, 
 we may put away all feare, and doubt nothing at all. For 
 after that ye by force of armes, had spoyled and taken away 
 all things in the house, and returned hither into our Cave, I 
 (thrusting my selfe amongst the presse of the people, and 
 shewing my selfe as though I were sad and sorrowfull for the 
 mischance) consulted with them for the boulting out of the 
 matter, and devising what meanes might be wrought for the 
 apprehension of the theeves, to the intent I might learne and 
 see all that was done to make relation thereof unto you as you 
 willed me, insomuch that the whole fact at length by mani- 
 S 137
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER fest and evident proof es as also by the common opinion and 
 XXIV judgement of the people, was laid to one Lucius Apuleius 
 How hee that cnar g e as manifest author of this common robbery, who 
 '^d & t H' 6 - a ^ ew dayes before by false and forged letters and colored 
 patadid bring honesty, fell so farre in favour with this Milo, that he enter- 
 newes con- tained him into his house, and received him as a chiefe of his 
 cerning the familiar friends, which Lucius after that he had sojourned 
 M^oesflumse tnere a S^ sp 8 - 06 ) an d won the heart of Miloes Maid, by 
 etc . ' fained love, did throughly learne the waies and doores of all 
 the house, and curiously viewed the cofers and chests, wherein 
 was laid the whole substance of Milo : neither was there small 
 cause given to judge him culpable, since as the very same 
 night that this robbery was done he fled away, and could not 
 be found in no place : and to the intent hee might cleane 
 escape, and better prevent such as made hew and crie after 
 him, he tooke his white horse and gallopped away, and after 
 this, his servant was found in the house, who (accused as 
 accessary to the fellony and escape of his Master) was com- 
 mitted to the common gaole, and the next day following was 
 cruelly scourged and tormented till hee was welnigh dead, 
 to the intent hee should confesse the matter, but when they 
 could wreast or learne no such thing of him, yet sent they 
 many persons after, towardes Lucius Countrey to enquire him 
 out, and so to take him prisoner. As he declared these 
 things, I did greatly lament with my selfe, to thinke of 
 mine old and pristine estate, and what felicity I was some- 
 times in, in comparison to the misery that I presently sus- 
 teined, being changed into a miserable Asse, then had I no 
 small occasion to remember, how the old and ancient Writers 
 did affirme, that fortune was starke blind and without eies, 
 because she alwaies bestoweth her riches upon evill persons, 
 and fooles, and chooseth or favoureth no mortall person by 
 judgement, but is alwaies conversant, especially with such as 
 if she could see, she should most shunne, and forsake, yea and 
 that which is more worse, she soweth such evill or contrary 
 opinions in men, that the wicked doe glory with the name of 
 good, and contrary the good and innocent be detracted and 
 slandred as evill. Furthermore I, who by her great cruelty, 
 was turned into a foure footed Asse, in most vile and abject 
 138
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 manner : yea, and whose estate seemed worthily to be lamented CHAPTER 
 and pittied of the most hard and stonie hearts, was accused XXIV 
 of theft and robbing of my deare host Milo, which villany j 1 
 might rather be called parricide then theft, yet might not I hinde at 
 defend mine owne cause or denie the fact any way, by reason pata did bring 
 I could not speake ; howbeit least my conscience should seeme newes con- 
 to accuse me by reason of silence, and againe being enforced cern ,||^ *J? e 
 by impatience I endevored to speake, and faine would have MUoes 
 said, Never did I that fact, and verely the first word, never, etc. 
 I cried out once or twise, somewhat handsome, but the 
 residue I could in no wise pronounce, but still remaining in 
 one voice, cried, Never, never, never. Howbeit I settled my 
 hanging lips as round as I could to speake the residue : 
 but why should I further complaine of the crueltie of my 
 fortune, since as I was not much ashamed, by reason that 
 my servant and my horse, was likewise accused with me of 
 the robbery. 
 
 While I pondered with my selfe all these things, a great 
 care [came] to my remembrance, touching the death, which 
 the theeves provised for me and the maiden, and still as I 
 looked downe to my belly, I thought of my poore gentle- 
 woman that should be closed within me. And the theefe 
 which a little before had brought the false newes against 
 me, drew out of the skirt of his coate, a thousand crowns, 
 which he had rifled from such as hee met, and brought it 
 into the common treasury. Then hee carefully enquired how 
 the residue of his companions did. To whom it was declared 
 that the most valiant was murdred and slaine in divers 
 manners, whereupon he perswaded them to remit all their 
 affaires a certaine season, and to seeke for other fellowes to be 
 in their places, that by the exercise of new lads, the terror of 
 their martiall band might be reduced to the old number, 
 assuring them that such as were unwilling, might be com- 
 pelled by menaces and threatnings, and such as were will- 
 ing might be incouraged forward with reward. Further he 
 said, that there were some, which (seeing the profite which 
 they had) would forsake their base and servile estate, and 
 rather bee contented to live like tyrants amongst them. 
 Moreover he declared, that for his part he had spoken with 
 
 139
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER a certaine tall man, a valiant companion, but of young age, 
 XXIV stout in body, and couragious in fight, whom he had fully 
 How hee that p erswa( J e d to exercise his idle hands, dull with slothfullnesse, 
 was left be- f ... j / u-i i, i i\ A -4.1 
 
 hinde at Hip- * nls g rea ter pront, and (while he might) to receive the 
 
 pata did bring blisse of better Fortune, and not to hold out his sturdy arme 
 newes con- to begge for a penny, but rather to take as much gold and 
 cerning the s jl ver & hee would. Then every one consented, that hee that 
 Miloe house seeme d so worthy to be their companion, should be one of 
 etc. ' their company, and that they would search for others to 
 make up the residue of the number, whereupon he went 
 out, and by and by (returning againe) brought in a tall 
 young man (as he promised) to whom none of the residue 
 might bee compared, for hee was higher then they by the 
 head, and of more bignesse in body, his beard began to 
 burgen, but hee was poorely apparelled, insomuch that you 
 might see all his belly naked. As soone as he was entred 
 in he said, God speed yee souldiers of Mars and my faith- 
 full companions, I pray you make me one of your band, and 
 I will ensure you, that you shall have a man of singular 
 courage and lively audacity : for I had rather receive stripes 
 upon my backe, then money or gold in my hands. And as 
 for death (which every man doth feare) I passe nothing at 
 all, yet thinke you not that I am an abject or a begger, 
 neither judge you my vertue and prowesse by ragged clothes, 
 for I have beene a Captaine of a great company, and sub- 
 dued all the countrey of Macedonia. I am the renowned 
 theefe Hemes the Thracian, whose name all countreyes and 
 nations do so greatly feare : I am the sonne of Theron 
 the noble theefe, nourished with humane bloud, enter- 
 tained amongst the stoutest ; finally I am inheritour and 
 follower of all my fathers vertues, yet I lost in a short 
 time all my company and all my riches, by one assault, 
 which I made upon a Factor of the Prince, which some- 
 time had beene Captaine of two hundred men, for fortune 
 was cleane against me : harken and I will tell you the whole 
 matter. 
 
 There was a certaine man in the court of the Emperour, 
 which had many offices, and in great favour, who at last by 
 the envy of divers persons, was banished away and compelled 
 140
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 to forsake the court : his wife Platina, a woman of rare faith CHAPTER 
 and singular shamefastnes having borne ten children to her XXIV 
 husband, despised all worldly Pompe and delicacy, and deter- How hee that 
 mined to follow her husband, and to be partaker of his perils ^ de atHip- 
 and danger, wherefore shee cut off her haire, disguised her p a ta did bring 
 selfe like a man, and tooke with her all her treasure, passing newes con- 
 through the hands of the souldiers, and the naked swords ceruing the 
 
 without any feare, whereby she endured many miseries, and ', !7 
 
 . i- 7 i J m- .' ,/ ,./. ,; , Miloes house, 
 
 was partaker of much affliction, to save the life of her etc 
 
 husband, such was her love which she bare unto him. And 
 when they had escaped many perillous dangers, as well by 
 land as by sea, they went together towards Zacynthe, to con- 
 tinue there according as fortune had appointed. But when 
 they were arived on the sea coast of Actium (where we in 
 our returne from Macedony were roving about) when night 
 came, they returned into a house not far distant from their 
 ship, where they lay all night. Then we entred in and tooke 
 away all their substance, but verely we were in great danger : 
 for the good matron perceiving us incontinently by the noise 
 of the gate, went into the chamber, and called up every man 
 by his name, and likewise the neighbors that dwelled round 
 about, insomuch that by reason of the feare that every one 
 was in, we hardly escaped away, but this most holy woman, 
 faithfull and true to her husband (as the truth must be 
 declared) returned to Caesar, desiring his aid and puissance, 
 and demanding vengeance of the injury done to her husband, 
 who granted all her desire : then went my company to 
 wracke, insomuch that every man was slaine, so great was 
 the authority and word of the Prince. Howbeit, when all 
 my band was lost, and taken by search of the Emperours 
 army, I onely stole away and delivered my selfe from the 
 violence of the souldiers, for I clothed my selfe in a womans 
 attire, and mounted upon an Asse, that carryed barly 
 sheafes, and (passing through the middle of them all) I 
 escaped away, because every one deemed that I was a woman 
 by reason I lacked a beard. Howbeit I left not off for all 
 this, nor did degenerate from the glory of my father, or mine 
 own vertue, but freshly comming from the bloody skirmish, 
 and disguised like a woman, I invaded townes and castles 
 
 141
 
 CHAPTER 
 XXIV 
 
 How hee that 
 was left be- 
 hiride at Hip- 
 pata did bring 
 newes con- 
 cerning the 
 
 robbery of 
 
 Miloes house, 
 
 etc. 
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 alone to get some pray. And therewithall he pulled out two 
 
 thousand crownes, which he had under his coate, saying : 
 
 Hold here the dowry which I present unto you, hold eke 
 
 my person, which you shall alwayes find trusty and faithfull, 
 
 if you willingly receive me : and I will ensure you that in 
 
 so doing, within short space I will make and turne this 
 
 stony house of yours into gold. Then by and by every 
 
 one consented to make him their Captaine, and so they 
 
 gave him better garments, and threw away his old. When 
 
 they had changed his attire, hee imbraced them one 
 
 after another, then placed they him in the highest 
 
 roome of the table, and drunke unto him in 
 
 token of good lucke. 
 
 THE TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER 
 
 How the death of the Asse, and the Gentlewoman 
 was stayed. 
 
 FTER supper they began to talke, and 
 declare unto him the going away of the 
 Gentlewoman, and how I bare her upon 
 my backe, and what death was ordained 
 for us two. Then he desired to see her, 
 whereupon the Gentlewoman was brought 
 forth fast bound, whom as soone as he 
 beheld, he turned himselfe wringing his 
 nose, and blamed them saying : I am not so much a beast, 
 or so rash a fellow to drive you quite from your purpose, but 
 my conscience will not suffer me to conceale any thing that 
 toucheth your profit, since I am as carefull for you, howbeit 
 if my counsell doe displease you, you may at your liberty 
 proceed in your enterprise. I doubt not but all theeves, and 
 such as have a good judgement, will preferre their owne lucre 
 and gain above all things in the world, and above their 
 vengeance, which purchaseth damage to divers persons. 
 Therefore if you put this virgin in the Asses belly, you 
 shall but execute your indignation against her, without all 
 142
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 manner of profit : But I would advise you to carry the CHAPTER 
 virgin to some towne and to sell her : and such a brave girle XXV 
 
 as she is, may be sold for a great quantity of money. And I , ? Vf * he , 
 
 if i _4. u j -\x i, i death of the 
 
 my selfe know certame bawdy Marchants, amongst whom j sse and the 
 
 peradventure one will give us summes of gold for her. This Gentlewoman 
 is my opinion touching this affaire : but advise you what you was stayed 
 intend to do, for you may rule me in this case. In this 
 manner the good theefe pleaded and defended our cause, 
 being a good Patron to the silly virgin, and to me poore 
 Asse. But they staied hereupon a good space, with long 
 deliberation, which made my heart (God wot) and spirit 
 greatly to quaile. Howbeit in the end they consented to 
 his opinion, and by and by the Maiden was unloosed of her 
 bonds, who seeing the young man, and hearing the name 
 of brothels and bawdy Merchants, began to wax joyfull, 
 and smiled with her selfe. Then began I to deeme evill 
 of the generation of women, when as I saw the Maiden 
 (who was appointed to be married to a young Gentleman, 
 and who so greatly desired the same) was now delighted 
 with the talke of a wicked brothel house, and other 
 things dishonest. In this sort the consent and 
 manners of women depended in the judge- 
 ment of an Asse. 
 
 THE TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER 
 
 How all the Theeves were brought asleepe by their 
 new companion. 
 
 HEN the young man spake againe, saying, 
 Masters, why goe wee not about to make 
 our prayers unto Mars, touching this selling 
 of the Maiden, and to seeke for other com- 
 panions. But as farre as I see, here is no 
 other manner of beast to make sacrifice 
 withall, nor wine sufficient for us to drinke. 
 Let me have (quoth hee) tenne more with 
 me, and wee will goe to the next Castle, to provide for meat 
 
 143
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER and other things necessary. So he and tenne more with 
 XXVI him, went their way : In the meane season, the residue made 
 
 II 11 
 
 th Th a & rea t ^ re anc ^ an Alter with greene turffes in the honour 
 were bro^g-ht ^ Mars. By and by after they came againe, bringing with 
 asleepe them bottles of wine, and a great number of beasts, amongst 
 by their new which there was a big Ram Goat, fat, old, and hairy, which 
 companion they killed and offered unto Mars. Then supper was pre- 
 pared sumptuously, and the new companion said unto the 
 other, You ought to accompt me not onely your Captaine in 
 robbery and fight, but also in pleasures ana jolity, whereupon 
 by and by with pleasant cheere he prepared meat, and trim- 
 ming up the house he set all things in order, and brought 
 the pottage and dainty dishes to the Table : but above all 
 he plyed them wel with great pots and jugs of wine. Some- 
 times (seeming to fetch somewhat) hee would goe to the 
 Maiden and give her pieces of meate, which he privily tooke 
 away, and would drinke unto her, which she willingly tooke 
 in good part. Moreover, hee kissed her twice or thrice, 
 whereof she was well pleased, but I (not well contented 
 thereat) thought in my selfe : O wretched Maid, thou hast 
 forgotten thy marriage, and doest esteeme this stranger and 
 bloudy theefe above thy husband which thy Parents ordained 
 for thee, now perceive I well thou hast no remorse of con- 
 science, but more delight to tarry and play the harlot heere 
 amongst so many swords. What ? knowest thou not how 
 the other theeves if they knew thy demeanour, would put 
 thee to death as they had once appointed, and so worke my 
 destruction likewise ? Well now I perceive thou hast a 
 pleasure in the dammage and hurt of other. While I did 
 angerly devise with my selfe all these things, I perceived by 
 certaine signes and tokens (not ignorant to so wise an Asse) 
 that he was not the notable theefe Hemus, but rather 
 Lepolemus her husband, for after much communication he 
 beganne to speake more franckly, not fearing at all my pre- 
 sence, and said, Be of good cheere my sweete friend Charites, 
 for thou shalt have by and by all these thy enemies captive 
 unto thee. Then hee filled wine to the theeves more and 
 more, and never ceased, till as they were all overcome with 
 abundance of meat and drinke, when as hee himselfe ab- 
 144
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 stained and bridled his owne appetite. And truely I did CHAPTER 
 greatly suspect, least hee had mingled in their cups some XXVI 
 deadly poyson, for incontinently they all fell downe 
 asleepe on the ground one after an other, and 
 lay as though they had beene dead. 
 
 THE TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How the Gentlewoman was carried home by her 
 
 husband while the theeves were asleepe, and 
 
 how much Apuleius was made of. 
 
 HEN the theeves were all asleepe by their 
 great and immoderate drinking, the young 
 man Lepolemus took the Maiden and set 
 her upon my backe, and went homeward. 
 When we were come home, all the people 
 of the Citie, especially her Parents, friends, 
 and family, came running forth joyfully, 
 and all the children and Maidens of the 
 towne gathered together to see this virgin in great triumph 
 sitting upon an Asse. Then I (willing to shew as much joy 
 as I might, as present occasion served) I set and pricked up 
 my long eares, I ratled my nosethrils, and cryed stoutly, nay 
 rather I made the towne to ring againe with my shrilling 
 sound : when wee were come to her fathers house, shee was 
 received into a chamber honourably : as for me, Lepolemus 
 (accompanied with a great number of Citizens) did presently 
 after drive me backe againe with other horses to the cave of 
 the theeves, where wee found them all asleepe lying on the 
 ground as wee left them ; then they first brought out all the 
 gold, and silver, and other treasure of the house, and laded 
 us withall, which when they had done, they threw many of 
 the theeves downe into the bottome of deepe ditches, and 
 the residue they slew with their swords : after this wee 
 returned home glad and merry of so great vengeance upon 
 them, and the riches which wee carried was commited to the 
 publike treasurie. This done, the Maid was married to 
 T 145 
 
 How all 
 the Theeves 
 were brought 
 
 asleepe 
 
 by their new 
 
 companion
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER Lepolemus, according to the law, whom by so much travell 
 XXVII ne had valiantly recovered : then my good Mistresse looked 
 
 n about for me, and asking for me commanded the very same 
 
 Lrentlewoman j ,. i ,1 fe , , , , 11 s .,, 
 
 was carried " av * ner m arriage, that my manger should be filled with 
 
 home by her barly, and that I should have hay and oats aboundantly, and 
 
 husband while she would call me her little Camell. But how greatly did I 
 
 theeves curse Fotis, in that shee transformed me into an Asse, and 
 
 and^o^mudi no ^ * n ^ a ^ogge, because I saw the dogges had filled their 
 
 Apuleius was paunches with the reliks and bones of so worthy a supper. 
 
 made of The next day this new wedded woman (my Mistresse) did 
 
 greatly commend me before her Parents and husband, for 
 
 the kindnesse which I had shewed unto her, and never leaved 
 
 off, untill such time as they promised to reward me with 
 
 great honours. Then they called together all their friends, and 
 
 thus it was concluded : one said, that I should be closed in a 
 
 stable and never worke, but continually to be fedde and 
 
 fatted with fine and chosen barly and beanes, and good 
 
 littour, howbeit another prevailed, who wishing my liberty, 
 
 perswaded them that it was better for me to runne in the 
 
 fields amongst the lascivious horses and mares, whereby I 
 
 might engender some mules for my Mistresse : then he tnat 
 
 had in charge to keepe the horse, was called for, and I was 
 
 delivered unto him with great care, insomuch that I was right 
 
 pleasant and joyous, because I hoped that I should carry no 
 
 more fardels nor burthens, moreover I thought that when I 
 
 should thus be at liberty, in the spring time of the yeere 
 
 when the meddows and fields were greene, I should find 
 
 some roses in some place, whereby I was fully perswaded 
 
 that if my Master and Mistresse did render to me so many 
 
 thanks and honours being an Asse, they would much more 
 
 reward me being turned into a man : but when hee (to whom 
 
 the charge of me was so straightly committed) had brought 
 
 me a good way distant from the City, I perceived no delicate 
 
 meates nor no liberty which I should have, but by and by 
 
 his covetous wife ana most cursed queane made me a mill 
 
 Asse, and (beating me with a cudgill full of knots) would 
 
 wring bread for her selfe and her husband out of my skinne. 
 
 Yet was she not contented to weary me and make me a 
 
 drudge with carriage and grinding of her owne corne, but I 
 
 146
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 was hired of her neighbours to beare their sackes likewise, CHAPTER 
 howbeit shee would not give me such meate as I should have, XXVII 
 nor sufficient to sustaine my life withall, for the barly which **ow ^ e 
 I ground for mine owne dinner she would sell to the Inhabi- JJjjj 1 JJJJJJ ^J 
 tants by. And after that I had laboured all day, she would home by"iher 
 set before me at night a little filthy branne, nothing cleane husband while 
 but full of stones. Being in this calamity, yet fortune ^ e theeves 
 worked me other torments, for on a day I was let loose into we ll aslee P e 
 the fields to pasture, by the commandement of my master. ApuldiLTwas 
 
 how I leaped for joy, now I neighed to see my selie in such made of 
 liberty, but especially since I beheld so many Mares, which 
 
 1 thought should be my wives and concubines ; and I espied 
 out and chose the fairest before I came nigh them ; but this 
 my joyfull hope turned into utter destruction, for incon- 
 tinently all the stone Horses which were well fedde and made 
 strong by ease of pasture, and thereby much more puissant 
 then a poore Asse, were jealous over me, and (having no 
 regard to the law and order of God Jupiter) ranne fiercely 
 and terribly against me ; one lifted up his forefeete ana 
 kicked me spitefully, another turned himselfe, and with his 
 hinder heeles spurned me cruelly, the third threatning with 
 a malicious neighing dressed his eares and shewing his 
 sharpe and white teeth bit me on every side. In like sort 
 have I read in Histories how the King of Thrace would 
 
 throw his miserable ghests to be torne in peeces and 
 
 devoured of his wild Horses, so niggish was that 
 
 Tyrant of his provender, that he nourished 
 
 them with the bodies of men. 
 
 147
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 THE TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was made a common Asse to fetch 
 home wood, and how he was handled by a boy. 
 
 FTER that I was thus handled by horses, I 
 was brought home againe to the Mill, but 
 behold fortune (insatiable of my torments) 
 had devised a new paine for me. I was 
 appointed to bring home wood every day 
 from a high hill, and who should drive me 
 thither and home againe, but a boy that 
 was the veriest hangman in all the world, 
 who was not contented with the great travell that I tooke in 
 climbing up the hill, neither pleased when he saw my hoofe 
 torne and worne away by sharpe flintes, but he beat me cruelly 
 with a great staffe, insomuch that the marrow of my bones 
 did ake for woe, for he would strike me continually on the 
 right hip, and still in one place, whereby he tore my skinne 
 and made of my wide sore a great hole or trench, or rather 
 a window to looke out at, and although it runne downe of 
 blood, yet would he not cease beating me in that place : 
 moreover he laded me with such great burthens of wood 
 that you would thinke they had beene rather prepared for 
 Elephants then for me, and when he perceived that my wood 
 hanged more on one side then another, (when he should 
 rather take away the heavy sides, and so ease me, or else lift 
 them up to make them equall with the other) he laid great 
 stones upon the weaker side to remedy the matter, yet could 
 he not be contented with this my great misery and im- 
 moderate burthens of wood, but when hee came to any river 
 (as there were many by the way) he to save his feete from 
 water, would leape upon my loynes likewise, which was no 
 small loade upon loade. And if by adversity I had fell 
 downe* in any dirty or myrie place, when he should have 
 pulled me out either with ropes, or lifted me up by the taile, 
 he would never helpe me, but lay me on from top to toe 
 148
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 with a mighty staffe, till he had left no haire on all my CHAPTER 
 body, no not so much as on mine eares, whereby I was com- XXVIII 
 pelled by force of blowes to stand up. The same hangman How Apuleius 
 
 boy did invent another torment for me : he gathered a great was m& ^ e . a 
 
 i ji j Yi common Asse 
 
 many sharp thornes as sharp as needles and bound them to f etc i, j, ome 
 
 together like a fagot, and tyed them at my tayle to pricke wood, and 
 me, then was I afflicted on every side, for if I had indea- how he was 
 voured to runne away, the thorns would have pricked me, handled by a 
 if I had stood still, the boy would have beaten mee, and yet 
 the boy beate mee to make me runne, whereby I perceived 
 that the hangman did devise nothing else save onely to kill 
 me by some manner of meanes, and he would sweare and 
 threaten to do me worse harme, and because hee might have 
 some occasion to execute his malicious minde, upon a day 
 (after that I had endeavoured too much by my patience) I 
 lifted up my heeles and spurned him welfavouredly. Then 
 he invented this vengeance against me, after that he had 
 well laded me with shrubs and rubble, and trussed it round 
 upon my backe, hee brought me out into the way : then hee 
 stole a burning coale out of a mans house of the next village, 
 and put it into the middle of the rubbell ; the rubbell and 
 shrubs being very dry, did fall on a light fire and burned me 
 on every side. I could see no remedy how I might save my 
 selfe, and in such a case it was not best for me to stand still : 
 but fortune was favourable towards me, perhaps to reserve 
 me for more dangers, for I espyed a great hole full of raine 
 water that fell the day before, thither I ranne hastily and 
 plunged my selfe therein, in such sort that I quenched the 
 fire, and was delivered from that present perill, but the vile 
 boy to excuse himselfe declared to all the neighbours and 
 shepheards about, that I willingly tumbled in the fire 
 as I passed through the village. Then he laughed 
 upon me saying : How long shall we nourish 
 and keepe this fiery Asse in vaine ? 
 
 149
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 THE TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was accused of Lechery by the boy. 
 
 FEW dayes after, the boy invented another 
 mischiefe : For when he had sold all the 
 wood which I bare, to certaine men dwell- 
 ing in a village by, he lead me homeward 
 unladen : And then he cryed that he was 
 not able to rule me, and that hee would 
 not drive mee any longer to the hill for 
 wood, saying : Doe you not see this slow 
 and dull Asse, who besides all the mischiefes that he hath 
 wrought already, inventeth daily more and more. For he 
 espyeth any woman passing by the way, whether she be old 
 or marryed, or if it be a young chila, hee will throw his 
 burthen from his backe, and runneth fiercely upon them. 
 And after that he hath thrown them downe, he will stride 
 over them to commit his buggery and beastly pleasure, 
 moreover hee will faine as though hee would kisse them, but 
 he will bite their faces cruelly, which thing may worke us 
 great displeasure, or rather to be imputed unto us as a crime : 
 and even now when he espyed an honest maiden passing by 
 the high way, he by and by threw downe his wood and runne 
 after her : And when he had throwne her down upon the 
 ground, he would have ravished her before the face of all 
 the world, had it not beene that by reason of her crying 
 out, she was succored and pulled from his heeles, and so 
 delivered. And if it had so come to passe that this fearefull 
 maid had beene slaine by him, what danger had we beene 
 in ? By these and like lies, he provoked the shepheards 
 earnestly against me, which grieved mee (God wot) full sore 
 that said nothing. Then one of the shepheards said : Why 
 doe we not make sacrifice of this common adulterous Asse ? 
 My sonne (quoth he) let us kill him and throw his guts to 
 the dogges, and reserve his flesh for the labourers supper. 
 Then let us cast dust upon his skinne, and carry it home to 
 150
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 our master, and say that the Woolves have devoured him. CHAPTER 
 The boy that was my evill accuser made no delay, but pre- XXIX 
 
 pared himselfe to execute the sentence of the shepheard, HowApuleius 
 
 j IL/-VI iiTiT was accused 
 
 rejoycmg at my present danger, but O how greatly did I of Le C h e ry by 
 
 then repent that the stripe which I gave him with my heele the boy 
 had not killed him. Then he drew out his sword and 
 made it sharp upon the whetstone to slay me, but another 
 of the shepheards gan say, Verely it is a great offence to 
 kill so faire an Asse, and so (by accusation of luxurie and 
 lascivious wantonnesse) to lack so necessarie his labour and 
 service, where otherwise if ye would cut off his stones, he 
 might not onely be deprived of his courage but also become 
 gentle, that we should be delivered from all feare and danger. 
 Moreover he would be thereby more fat and better in flesh. 
 For I know my selfe as well many Asses, as also most fierce 
 horses, that by reason of their wantonnesse have beene most 
 mad and terrible, but (when they were gelded and cut) they 
 have become gentle and tame, and tractable to all use. 
 Wherefore I would counsell you to geld him. And if you 
 consent thereto, I will by and by, when I go to the next 
 market fetch mine irons and tooles for the purpose : And I 
 ensure you after that I have gelded and cut off his stones, 
 I will deliver him unto you as tame as a lambe. When I 
 did perceive that I was delivered from death, and reserved to 
 be gelded, I was greatly sorrie, insomuch that I thought all 
 the hinder part of my body and my stones did ake for 
 woe, but I sought about to kill my selfe by some 
 manner of meanes, to the end if I should die, I 
 would die with unperished members. 
 
 151
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 THE THIRTIETH CHAPTER 
 
 How the boy that lead Apuleius to the field, was 
 slaine in the wood. 
 
 HILE I devised with my selfe in what man- 
 ner I might end my life, the roperipe boy 
 on the next morrow lead me to the same 
 hill againe, and tied me to a bow of a 
 great Oke, and in the meane season he 
 tooke his hatchet and cut wood to load 
 me withall, but behold there crept out of 
 a cave by, a marvailous great Beare, hold- 
 ing out his mighty head, whom when I saw, I was sodainly 
 stroken in feare, and (throwing all the strength of my body 
 into my hinder heeles) lifted up my strained head and brake 
 the halter, wherewith I was tied. Then there was no need 
 to bid me runne away, for I scoured not onely on foot, but 
 tumbled over the stones and rocks with my body till I came 
 into the open fields, to the intent I would escape from the 
 terrible Beare, but especially from the boy that was worse 
 then the Beare. Then a certaine stranger that passed by 
 the way (espying me alone as a stray Asse) tooke me up and 
 roade upon my backe, beating me with a staffe (which he 
 bare in his hand) through a wide and unknowne lane, where- 
 at I was nothing displeased, but willingly went forward to 
 avoid the cruell paine of gelding, which the shepherds had 
 ordained for me, but as for the stripes I was nothing moved, 
 since I was accustomed to be beaten so every day. But evill 
 fortune would not suffer me to continue in so good estate 
 long : For the shepheards looking about for a Cow that 
 they had lost (after they had sought in divers places) for- 
 tuned to come upon us unwares, who when they espied and 
 knew me, they would have taken me by the halter, but he 
 that rode upon my backe resisted them saying, O Lord 
 masters, what intend you to do ? Will you rob me ? Then 
 said the shepheards, What ? thinkest thou we handle thee 
 152
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 otherwise then thou deservest, which hast stollen away our CHAPTER 
 Asse ? Why dost thou not rather tell us where thou hast 
 hidden the boy whom thou hast slaine ? And therewithall , 7 . tl l e , 
 they pulled him downe to the ground, beating him with their Apuleius to 
 fists, and spurning him with their feete. Then he answered the field, was 
 unto them saying, that he saw no manner of boy, but onely slaine in the 
 found the Asse loose and straying abroad, which he tooke wood 
 up to the intent to have some reward for the finding of him 
 and to restore him againe to his Master. And I would to 
 God (quoth he) that this Asse (which verely was never scene) 
 could speake as a man to give witnesse of mine innocency : 
 Then would you be ashamed of the injury which you have 
 done to me. Thus (reasoning for himselfe) he nothing pre- 
 vailed, for they tied the halter about my necke, and (maugre 
 his face) pulled me quite away, and lead me backe againe 
 through the woods of the hill to the place where the boy 
 accustomed to resort. And after they could find him in no 
 place, at length they found his body rent and torne in peeces, 
 and his members dispersed in sundry places, which I well 
 knew was done by the cruell Beare : and verely I would have 
 told it if I might have spoken, but (which I could onely 
 do) I greatly rejoyced at his death, although it came 
 too late. Then they gathered together the peeces of his 
 body and buried them. By and by they laid the fault 
 to my new Master, that tooke me up by the way, and 
 (bringing him home fast bound to their houses) pur- 
 posed on the next morrow to accuse him of mur- 
 ther, and to lead him before the Justices to 
 have judgement of death. 
 
 U 153
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 THE THIRTY-FIRST CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was cruelly beaten by the Mother 
 of the boy that was slain e. 
 
 N the meane season, while the Parents of 
 the boy did lament and weepe for the 
 death of their sonne, the shepheard (ac- 
 cording to his promise) came with his 
 instruments and tooles to geld me. Then 
 one of them said, Tush we little esteeme 
 the mischiefe he did yesterday, but now 
 we are contented that to morrow his stones 
 shall not onely be cut off, but also his head. So was it 
 brought to passe, that my death was delayed till the next 
 morrow, but what thanks did I give to that good boy, who 
 (being so slaine) was the cause of my pardon for one short 
 day. Howbeit I had no time then to rest my selfe, for the 
 Mother of the boy, weeping and lamenting for his death, 
 attired in mourning vesture, tare her haire and beat her 
 breast, and came presently into the stable, saying, Is it 
 reason that this carelesse beast should do nothing all day 
 but hold his head in the manger, filling and belling his guts 
 with meat without compassion of my great miserie, or re- 
 membrance of the pittifull death of his slaine Master : and 
 contemning my age and infirmity, thinketh that I am unable 
 to revenge his mischiefs, moreover he would perswade me, 
 that he were not culpable. Indeed, it is a convenient thing 
 to looke and plead for safety, when as the conscience doeth 
 confesse the offence, as theeves and malefactors accustome to 
 do. But O good Lord, thou cursed beast, if thou couldest 
 utter the contents of thine owne mind, whom (though it were 
 the veriest foole in all the world) mightest thou perswade 
 that this murther was voide or without thy fault, when as it 
 lay in thy power, either to keepe off the theeves with thy 
 heeles, or else to bite and teare them with thy teeth ? 
 Couldest not thou (that so often in his life time diddest spurne 
 154
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 and kicke him) defend him now at the point of death by CHAPTER 
 the like meane ? Yet at least, thou shouldest have taken XXXI 
 him upon thy backe, and so brought him from the cruell HowApulems 
 hands of the theeves : where contrary thou runnest away beaten by the 
 alone, forsaking thy good Master, thy pastor and conductor. Mother of the 
 Knowest thou not, that such as denie their wholsome help boy that was 
 and aid to them which lie in danger of death, ought to be slaine 
 punished, because they have offended against good manners, 
 and the law naturall ? but I promise thee, thou shalt not 
 long rejoyce at my harmes, thou shalt feele the smart of thy 
 homicide and offence, I will see what I can doe. And there- 
 withall she unclosed her apron, and bound all my feete 
 together, to the end I might not help my selfe, then she 
 tooke a great barre, which accustomed to bar the stable 
 doore, and never ceased beating me till she was so weary 
 that the bar fell out of her hands, whereupon she (complain- 
 ing of the soone faintnesse of her armes) ran to her fire and 
 brought a firebrand and thrust it under my taile, burning 
 me continually, till such time as (having but one remedy) I 
 all arayed her face and eies with my durty dunge, whereby 
 (what with the stinke thereof, and what with the filthinesse 
 that fell in her eies) she was welnigh blinded : so I en- 
 forced the queane to leave off, otherwise I had died 
 as Meleager did by the sticke, which his mad 
 mother Althea cast into the fire. 
 
 155
 
 THE 
 
 EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 of LUCIUS APULEIUS of 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 THE THIRTY-SECOND CHAPTER 
 
 How a young man came and declared the miser- 
 able death of Lepolemus and his wife Charites. 
 
 BOUT midnight came a young man, which 
 seemed to be one of the family of the 
 good woman Charites, who sometimes 
 endured so much misery and calamity 
 with mee amongst the theeves, who after 
 that hee had taken a stoole, and sate 
 downe before the fire-side, in the com- 
 pany of the servants, began to declare 
 many terrible things that had happened unto the house of 
 Charites, saying : O yee house-keepers, shepheards and cow- 
 heards, you shall understand that wee have lost our good 
 mistris Charites miserably and by evill adventure : and to 
 the end you may learne and know all the whole matter, I 
 purpose to tell you the circumstance of every point, whereby 
 such as are more learned then I (to whom fortune hath 
 ministred more copious stile) may painte it out in paper in 
 forme of an History. There was a young Gentleman dwell- 
 ing in the next City, borne of good parentage, valiant in 
 prowesse, and riche in substance, but very much given and 
 adicted to whorehunting, and continuall revelling. Where- 
 by he fell in company with Theeves, and had his hand ready 
 to the effusion of humane blood ; his name was Thrasillus. 
 The matter was this according to the report of every man. 
 Hee demanded Charites in marriage, who although he were 
 
 159
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER a man more comely then the residue that wooed her, and also 
 
 XXXII had riches abundantly, yet because he was of evill fame, and 
 
 low a youug a man Q f w j c k ec l manners and conversation, he had the re- 
 
 dTdared 6 the P u ^ e an( ^ was P u ^ ^ by Charites, and so she married with 
 miserable Lepolemus. Howbeit this young man secretly loved her, 
 
 death of Lepo- yet moved somewhat at her refusall, hee busily searched some 
 
 l e us and his meanes to worke his damnable intent. Ana (having found 
 Chantes o^^ion &n ^ opportunity to accomplish his purpose, which 
 he had long time concealed) brought to passe, that the same 
 day that Charites was delivered by the subtill meane and 
 valiant audacity of her husband, from the puissance of the 
 Theeves, he mingled himselfe among the assembly, faining 
 that he was glad of the new marriage, and comming home 
 againe of the maiden, whereby (by reason that he came of so 
 noble parents) he was received and entertained into the house 
 as one of their chiefe and principall friends : Howbeit under 
 cloake of a faithfull welwiller, hee dissimuled his mischievous 
 mind and intent : in continuance of time by much familiarity 
 and often conversation and banketting together, he fell more 
 and more in favour, like as we see it fortuneth to Lovers, 
 who first doe little delight themselves in love : till as by 
 continuall acquaintance they kisse and imbrace each other. 
 Thrasillus perceiving that it was a hard matter to breake 
 his minde secretly to Charites, whereby he was wholly barred 
 from the accomplishment of his luxurious appetite, and on 
 the other side perceiving that the love of her and her 
 husband was so strongly lincked together, that the bond 
 betweene them might in no wise be dissevered, moreover, it 
 was a thing impossible to ravish her, although he had con- 
 sented thereto, yet was hee still provoked forward by vehe- 
 ment lust, when as hee saw himselfe unable to bring his 
 purpose to passe. Howbeit at length the thing which seemed 
 so hard and difficill, thorough hope of his fortified love, did 
 now appeare easie and facill: but marke I pray you diligently 
 to what end the furious force of his inordinate desire came. 
 On a day Lepolemus went to the chase with Thrasillus, to 
 hunt for Goates, for his wife Charites desired him earnestly 
 to meddle with no other beasts, which were of more fierce 
 and wilde nature. When they were come within the chase 
 160
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 to a great thicket fortressed about with bryers and thornes, CHAPTER 
 they compassed round with their Dogs, and beset every XXXII 
 place with nets : by and by warning was given to let loose. How a y un g 
 The Dogs rushed in with such a cry, that all the Forrest S^ 6 ^ 
 rang againe with the noyse, but behold there leaped out no miserable 
 Goat, nor Deere, nor gentle Hinde, but an horrible and death of Lepo- 
 dangerous wild Boare, hard and thicke skinned, bristeled lemus and his 
 terribly with thornes, foming at the mouth, grinding his 
 teeth, and looking direfully with fiery eyes. The Dogs that 
 first set upon him, he tare and rent with his tuskes, and 
 then he ranne quite through the nets, and escaped away. 
 When wee saw the fury of this beast, wee were greatly 
 striken with feare, and because wee never accustomed to 
 chase such dreadfull Boares, and further because we were 
 unarmed and without weapons, we got and hid our selves 
 under bushes and trees. Then Thrasillus having found 
 opportunity to worke his treason, said to Lepolemus : What 
 stand we here amazed ? Why show we our selves like 
 dastards ? Why leese we so worthy a prey with our feminine 
 hearts ? Let us mount upon our Horses, and pursue him 
 incontinently : take you a hunting staffe, and I will take a 
 chasing speare. By and by they leaped upon their Horses, 
 and followed the beast. But nee returning against them 
 with furious force, pryed with his eyes, on whom hee might 
 first assayle with his tuskes : Lepolemus strooke the beast 
 first on the backe with his hunting staffe. Thrasillus fain- 
 ing to ayde and assist him, came behind, and cut off the 
 hinder legges of Lepolemus Horse, in such sort that hee fell 
 downe to the ground with his master : and sodainely the 
 Boare came upon Lepolemus, and furiously tare and rent 
 him with his teeth. Howbeit, Thrasillus was not sufficed to 
 see him thus wounded, but when he desired his friendly help, 
 he thrust Lepolemus through the right thigh with his speare, 
 the more because he thought the wound of the speare would 
 be taken for a wound of the Boars teeth, then he killed the 
 beast likewise. And when he was thus miserably slaine, 
 every one of us came out of our holes, and went towards our 
 slaine master. But although that Thrasillus was joyfull of 
 the death of Lepolemus, whom he did greatly hate, yet he 
 X 161
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER cloked the matter with a sorrowfull countenance, he fained 
 XXXII a dolorous face, he often imbraced the body which himselfe 
 
 How a young s j ew jjg pl a y e d all the parts of a mourning person, saving 
 man came and , f ,, r *. f r ,. rp, , , ,' , . & 
 
 declared the there fell no teares from his eyes. Ihus hee resembled us in 
 
 miserable each point, who verily and not without occasion had cause to 
 death of Lepo- lament for our master, laying all the blame of this homicide 
 * e ?i u pt n( *- *" s unto the Boare. Incontinently after the sorrowfull newes of 
 !S the death of Lepolemus, came to the eares of all the family, 
 but especially to Charites, who after she had heard such 
 pitifull tydings, as a mad and raging woman, ran up and 
 down the streets, crying and howling lamentably. All the 
 Citizens gathered together, and such as they met bare them 
 company running towards the chasse. When they came to 
 the slaine body of Lepolemus, Charites threw her selfe upon 
 him weeping and lamenting grievously for his death, in such 
 sort, that she would have presently ended her life, upon the 
 corps of her slaine husband, whom shee so entirely loved, had 
 it not beene that her parents and friends did comfort her, and 
 pulled her away. The body was taken up, and in funerall 
 pompe brought to the City and buried. In the meane season, 
 Thrasillus fained much sorrow for the death of Lepolemus, but 
 in his heart he was well pleased and joyfull. And to counter- 
 feit the matter, he would come to Charites and say : O what a 
 losse have I had of my friend, my fellow, my companion Le- 
 polemus ? O Charites comfort your selfe, pacific your dolour, 
 refraine your weeping, beat not your breasts : and with such 
 other and like words and divers examples he endeavoured 
 to suppresse her great sorrow, but he spake not this for 
 any other intent but to win the heart of the woman, and 
 to nourish his odious love with filthy delight. Howbeit, 
 Charites after the buriall of her husband sought the meanes 
 to follow him, and (not sustaining the sorrows wherein she 
 was wrapped) got her secretly into a chamber and purposed 
 to finish her life there with dolour and tribulation. But 
 Thrasillus was very importunate, and at length brought to 
 passe, that at the intercession of the Parents and friends of 
 Charites, she somewhat refreshed her fallen members with re- 
 fection of meate and baine. Howbeit, she did it more at the 
 commandement of her Parents, then for any thing else : for 
 162
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 she could in no wise be merry, nor receive any comfort, but CHAPTER 
 tormented her selfe day and night before the Image of her XXXII 
 husband which she made like unto Bacchus, and rendred How a y un S 
 unto him divine honours and services. In the meane season d^.".^ 6 t^e 
 Thrasillus not able to refraine any longer, before Charites miserable 
 had asswaged her dolor, before her troubled mind had death of Lepo- 
 pacified her fury, even in the middle of all her griefes, while le us and his 
 she tare her haire and rent her garments, demanded her in e Chantes 
 marriage, and so without shame, he detected the secrets and 
 unspeakeable deceipts of his heart. But Charites detested 
 and abhorred his demand, and as she had beene stroken 
 with some clap of thunder, with some storme, or with the 
 lightning of Jupiter, she presently fell downe to the ground 
 all amazed. Howbeit when her spirits were revived and that 
 she returned to her selfe, perceiving that Thrasillus was so 
 importunate, she demanded respite to deliberate and to take 
 advise on the matter. In the meane season, the shape of 
 Lepolemus that was slaine so miserably, appeared to Charites 
 saying, O my sweet wife (which no other person can say but 
 I) I pray thee for the love which is betweene us two, if 
 there be any memorie of me in thy heart, or remembrance 
 of my pittifull death, marry with any other person, so 
 that thou marry not with the traitour Thrasillus, have no 
 conference with him, eate not with him, lie not with 
 him, avoid the bloudie hand of mine enemie, couple not 
 thy selfe with a paricide, for those wounds (the bloud 
 whereof thy teares did wash away) were not the wounds of 
 the teeth of the Boare, but the speare of Thrasillus, that 
 deprived me from thee. Thus spake Lepolemus, unto his 
 loving wife, and declared the residue of the damnable fact. 
 Then Charites, awaking from sleepe, began to renew her 
 dolour, to teare her garments, ana to beate her armes with 
 her comely hands, howbeit she revealed the vision which she 
 saw to no manner of person, but dissimuling that she knew 
 no part of the mischiefe, devised with her selfe how she 
 might be revenged on the traitor, and finish her owne life to 
 end and knit up all sorrow. Incontinently came Thrasillus, 
 the detestable demander of sodaine pleasure, and wearied 
 the closed eares of Charites with talke of marriage, but she 
 
 163
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER gently refused his communication, and coloring the matter, 
 XXXII with passing craft in the middest of his earnest desires gan 
 How a young ^y^ Thrasillus you shall understand that yet the face of your 
 de* hired & the brother and my husband, is alwayes before mine eies, I smell 
 miserable J e t the Cinamon sent of his pretious body, I yet feele 
 death of Lepo- Lepolemus alive in my heart: wherefore you shall do well if 
 lemus and his vou grant to me miserable woman, necessarie time to bewaile 
 -ife Charites ^ death, that after the residue of a few moneths, the whole 
 yeare may be expired, which thing toucheth as well my shame 
 as your wholsome profit, lest peradventure by your speed 
 and quicke marriage we should justly raise and provoke the 
 spirit of my husband to worke our destruction. Howbeit, 
 Thrasillus was not contented with this promise, but more 
 and more came upon her : Insomuch, that she was enforced 
 to speake to him in this manner : My friend Thrasillus, if 
 thou be so contented untill the whole yeare be compleate and 
 finished, behold here is my bodie, take thy pleasure, but in 
 such sort and so secret that no servant of the house may 
 perceive it. Then Thrasillus trusting to the false promises 
 of the woman, and preferring his inordinate pleasure above 
 all things in the world, was joyfull in his heart and looked 
 for night, when as he might have his purpose. But come 
 thou about midnight (quoth Charites) disguised without 
 companie, and doe but hisse at my chamber doore, and my 
 nourse shall attend and let thee in. This counsell pleased 
 Thrasillus marveilously, who (suspecting no harme) did al- 
 waies looke for night, and the houre assigned by Charites. 
 The time was scarce come, when as (according to her com- 
 mandement) he disguised himselfe, and went straight to the 
 chamber, where he found the nourse attending for him, who 
 (by the appointment of her Mistresse) fed him with flatter- 
 ing talke, and gave him mingled and doled drinke in a cup, 
 excusing the absence of her Mistresse Charites, by reason 
 that she attended on her Father being sick, untill such time, 
 that with sweet talke and operation of the wine, he fell in a 
 sound sleepe : Now when he lay prostrate on the ground 
 readie to all adventure, Charites (being called for) came in, 
 and with manly courage and bold force stood over the sleep- 
 ing murderer, saying : Behold the faithfull companion of my 
 164
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 husband, behold this valiant hunter; behold me deere spouse, CHAPTER 
 this is the hand which shed my bloud, this is the heart XXXII 
 which hath devised so many subtill meanes to worke my How a y un g 
 
 destruction, these be the eies whom I have ill pleased, ^iVral * the 
 behold now they foreshew their owne destinie : sleepe care- miserable 
 lesse, dreame that thou art in the hands of the mercifull, for death of Lepo- 
 I will not hurt thee with thy sword or any other weapon : lemus and his 
 God forbid that I should slay thee as thou slewest my * 
 husband, but thy eies shall faile thee, and thou shalt see no 
 more, then that whereof thou dreamest : Thou shalt thinke 
 the death of thine enemie more sweet then thy life ; Thou 
 shalt see no light, thou shalt lacke the aide of a leader, thou 
 shalt not have me as thou hopest, thou shalt have no delight 
 of my marriage, thou shalt not die, and yet living thou 
 shalt have no joy, but wander betweene light and darknesse 
 as an unsure Image : thou shalt seeke for the hand that 
 pricked out thine eies, yet shalt thou not know of whom 
 thou shouldest complaine : I will make sacrifice with the 
 bloud of thine eies upon the grave of my husband. But what 
 gainest thou through my delay? Perhaps thou dreamest 
 that thou embracest me in thy armes : leave off the darknesse 
 of sleepe and awake thou to receive a penall deprivation of 
 thy sight, lift up thy face, regard thy vengeance and evill 
 fortune, reckon thy miserie ; so pleaseth thine eies to a chast 
 woman, that thou shalt have blindnesse to thy companion, 
 and an everlasting remorse of thy miserable conscience. 
 When she had spoken these words, she tooke a great needle 
 from her head and pricked out both his eies : which done, 
 she by and by caught the naked sword which her husband 
 Lepolemus accustomed to weare, and ranne throughout all 
 the Citie like a mad woman towards the Sepulchre of her 
 husband. Then all we of the house, with all the Citizens, 
 ranne incontinently after her to take the sword out of her 
 hand, but she clasping about the tombe of Lepolemus, kept 
 us off with her naked weapon, and when she perceived that 
 every one of us wept and lamented, she spake in this sort : 
 I pray you my friends weepe not, nor lament for me, for I 
 have revenged the death of my husband, I have punished 
 deservedly the wicked breaker of our marriage ; now is it time 
 
 165
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER to seeke out ray sweet Lepolemus, and presently with this 
 XXXII sword to finish my life. And therewithall after she had 
 low a young ma( j e re lation of the whole matter, declared the vision which 
 ieclared the sne saw anc ^ ^^ ^y what meane she deceived Thrasillus, 
 miserable thrusting her sword under her right brest, and wallowing 
 death of Lepo- in her owne bloud, at length with manly courage yeelded 
 d ; his up the Ghost. Then immediatly the friends of miserable 
 Charites did bury her body within the same Sepulchre. 
 Thrasillus hearing all the matter, and knowing not by what 
 meanes he might end his life, for he thought his sword was 
 not sufficient to revenge so great a crime, at length went to 
 the same Sepulchre, and cryed with a lowd voice, saying : 
 O yee dead spirites whom I have so highly and greatly 
 offended, vouchsafe to receive me, behold I make Sacrifice 
 unto you with my whole body : which said, hee closed the 
 Sepulchre, purposing to famish himselfe, and to finish his life 
 there in sorrow. These things the young man with pitifull 
 sighes and teares, declared unto the Cowheards and Shep- 
 heards, which caused them all to weepe : but they 
 fearing to become subject unto new masters, 
 prepared themselves to depart away. 
 
 THE THIRTY-THIRD CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was lead away by the Horsekeeper : 
 and what danger he was in. 
 
 Y and by the Horsekeeper, to whom the 
 charge of me was committed, brought 
 forth all his substance, and laded me and 
 other Horses withall, and so departed 
 thence : we bare women, children, pullets, 
 sparrowes, kiddes, whelpes, and other 
 things which were not able to keepe pace 
 with us, and that which I bare upon my 
 backe, although it was a mighty burthen, yet seemed it very 
 light, because I was driven away from him that most ter- 
 ribly had appointed to kill me. When we had passed over 
 166
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 a great mountaine full of trees, and were come againe into CHAPTER 
 the open fields, behold we approached nigh to a faire and XXXIII 
 rich Castell, where it was told unto us that we were not able How Apuleius 
 to passe in our journey that night, by reason of the great J^the HorTe^ 
 number of terrible Wolves which were in the Country about, keeper : and 
 so fierce and cruell that they put every man in feare, in such w 'hat danger 
 sort that they would invade and set upon such which passed he was in 
 by like theeves, and devoure both them and their beasts. 
 Moreover, we were advertised that there lay in the way 
 where we should passe, many dead bodies eaten and torne 
 with wolves. Wherefore we were willed to stay there all 
 night, and on the next morning, to goe close and round 
 together, whereby we might passe and escape all dangers. 
 But (notwithstanding this good counsell) our caitife drivers 
 were so covetous to goe forward, and so fearefull of pursuite, 
 that they never stayed till the morning : But being welnigh 
 midnight, they made us trudge in our way apace. Then I 
 fearing the great danger which might happen, ran amongst 
 the middle of the other Horses, to the end I might defend 
 and save my poore buttockes from the Wolves, whereat every 
 man much marvelled to see, that I scowred away swifter 
 then the other Horses. But such was my agility, not to get 
 me any prayse, but rather for feare : at that time I remembred 
 with my selfe, that the valiant Horse Pegasus did fly in the 
 ayre more to avoyd the danger of dreadfull Chimera, then 
 for any thing else. The shepheards which drave us before 
 them were well armed like warriours : one had a speare, 
 another had a sheepehooke, some had darts, some clubbes, 
 some gathered up great stones, some held up their sharp 
 Javelings, and some feared away the Woolves with light fire- 
 brands. Finally wee lacked nothing to make up an Army, 
 but onely Drummes and Trumpets. But when we had passed 
 these dangers, not without small feare, wee fortuned to fall 
 into worse, for the Woolves came not upon us, either because 
 of the great multitude of our company, or else because [of] 
 our firebrands, or peradventure they were gone to some other 
 place, for wee could see none, but the Inhabitants of the 
 next villages (supposing that wee were Theeves by reason of 
 the great multitude) for the defence of their owne substance, 
 
 167
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER and for the feare that they were in, set great and mighty 
 
 XXXIII masties upon us, which they had kept and nourished for the 
 
 How Apulems ^fety o f their houses, who compassing us round about leaped 
 
 was lead away J j . u f\ iU 
 
 by the Horse- on ever y slc * e > tearing us with their teeth, in such sort that 
 
 keeper : and they pulled many of us to the ground : verily it was a 
 
 what danger pittifull sight to see so many Dogs, some following such as 
 
 he was in flyed, some invading such as stood still, some tearing those 
 
 which lay prostrate, but generally there were none which 
 
 escaped cleare : Behold upon this another danger ensued, the 
 
 Inhabitants of the Towne stood in their garrets and win- 
 
 dowes, throwing great stones upon our heads, that wee could 
 
 not tell whether it were best for us to avoyd the gaping 
 
 mouthes of the Dogges at hand or the perill of the stones 
 
 afarre, amongst whome there was one that hurled a great 
 
 flint upon a woman, which sate upon my backe, who cryed 
 
 out pitiously, desiring her husband to helpe her. Then 
 
 he (comming to succour and ayd his wife) beganne to speake 
 
 in this sort : Alas masters, what mean you to trouble us 
 
 poore labouring men so cruelly? What meane you to revenge 
 
 your selves upon us, that doe you no harme ? What thinke 
 
 you to gaine by us ? You dwell not in Caves or Dennes : 
 
 you are no people barbarous, that you should delight in 
 
 effusion of humane blood. At these words the tempest of 
 
 stones did cease, and the storme of the Dogges vanished 
 
 away. Then one (standing on the toppe of a great Cypresse 
 
 tree) spake unto us saying : Thinke you not masters that 
 
 we doe this to the intent to rifle or take away any of 
 
 your goods, but for the safeguard of our selves and family : 
 
 now a Gods name you may depart away. So we went 
 
 forward, some wounded with stones, some bitten 
 
 with Dogs, but generally there was none 
 
 which escapea free. 
 
 168
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE THIRTY-FOURTH CHAPTER 
 
 How the shepheards determined to abide in a 
 certaine wood to cure their wounds. 
 
 HEN we had gone a good part of our way, 
 we came to a certaine wood invironed 
 with great trees and compassed about 
 with pleasant meddowes, whereas the 
 Shepheards appointed to continue a cer- 
 taine space to cure their wounds and 
 sores ; then they sate downe on the ground 
 ' to refresh their wearie minds, and after- 
 wards they sought for medicines, to heale their bodies : some 
 washed away their blood with the water of the running 
 River : some stopped their wounds with Spunges and cloutes, 
 in this manner every one provided for his owne safety. In 
 the meane season wee perceived an old man, who seemed to 
 be a Shepheard, by reason of the Goates and Sheep that fed 
 round about him. Then one of our company demanded 
 whether he had any milke, butter, or cheese to sell. To 
 whom he made answere saying : Doe you looke for any meate 
 or drinke, or any other refection here? Know you not in 
 what place you be ? 
 
 And therewithall he tooke his sheepe and drave them 
 away as fast as he might possible. This answere made our 
 shepheards greatly to feare, that they thought of nothing 
 else, but to enquire what Country they were in : Howbeit 
 they saw no manner of person of whom they might demand. 
 At length as they were thus in doubt, they perceived another 
 old man with a staffe in his hand very weary with travell, 
 who approching nigh to our company, began to weepe and 
 complaine saying: Alas masters I pray you succour me 
 miserable caitife, and restore my nephew to me againe, that 
 by following a sparrow that flew before him, is fallen into a 
 ditch hereby, and verily I thinke he is in danger of death. 
 As for me, I am not able to helpe him out by reason of mine 
 Y 169
 
 CHAPTER 
 XXXIV 
 
 How the shep- 
 heards deter- 
 mined to abide 
 in a certaine 
 wood to cure 
 their wounds 
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 old age, but you that are so valiant and lusty may easily 
 helpe me herein, and deliver me my boy, my heire and guide 
 of my life. These words made us all to pity him : And then 
 the youngest and stoutest of our company, who alone escaped 
 best the late skirmish of Dogges and stones, rose up and 
 demanded in what ditch the boy was fallen : Mary (quod he) 
 yonder, and pointed with his finger, and brought him to a 
 great thicket of bushes and thornes where they both entred in. 
 In the meane season, after we cured our wounds, we tooke up 
 our packs, purposing to depart away. And because we 
 would not goe away without the young man our fellow : 
 The shepheards whistled and called for him, but when he 
 gave no answer, they sent one out of their company to seeke 
 him out, who after a while returned againe with a pale face 
 and sorrowfull newes, saying that he saw a terrible Dragon 
 eating and devouring their companion : and as for the old 
 man, hee could see him in no place. When they heard this, 
 (remembring likewise the words of the first old man that 
 shaked his head, and drave away his sheep) they 
 ran away beating us before them, to fly from 
 this desart and pestilent Country. 
 
 THE THIRTY-FIFTH CHAPTER 
 
 How a woman killed her selfe and her child, because 
 her husband haunted harlots. 
 
 FTER that we had passed a great part of 
 our journey, we came to a village where 
 we lay all night, but harken, and I will 
 tell you what mischiefs happened there : 
 you shall understand there was a servant 
 to whom his Master had committed the 
 whole government of his house, and was 
 Master of the lodging where we lay : 
 this servant had married a Maiden of the same house, how- 
 beit he was greatly in love with a harlot of the towne, 
 and accustomed to resort unto her, wherewith his wife 
 170
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 was so highly displeased and became so jealous, that she 
 gathered together all her husbands substance, with his tales 
 and books of account, and threw them into a light fire: she 
 was not contented with this, but she tooke a cord and bound 
 her child which she had by her husband, about her middle 
 and cast her selfe headlong into a deepe pit. The Master 
 taking in evill part the death of these twaine, tooke his ser- 
 vant which was the cause of this murther by his luxurie, and 
 first after that he had put off all his apparell, he annointed 
 his body with honey, and then bound him sure to a fig-tree, 
 where in a rotten stocke a great number of Pismares had 
 builded their neasts, the Pismares after they had felt the 
 sweetnesse of the honey came upon his body, and by little and 
 little (in continuance of time) devoured all his flesh, in such sort, 
 that there remained on the tree but his bare bones : this was 
 declared unto us by the inhabitants of the village there, 
 who greatly sorrowed for the death of this servant : 
 then we avoiding likewise from this dreadfull 
 lodging, incontinently departed away. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 XXXV 
 
 How a woman 
 killed her 
 selfe and her 
 child, because 
 her husband 
 haunted har- 
 lots 
 
 THE THIRTY-SIXTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was cheapned by divers persons, 
 
 and how they looked in his mouth to 
 
 know his age. 
 
 FTER this we came to a faire Citie very 
 populous, where our shepheards deter- 
 mined to continue, by reason that it 
 seemed a place where they might live 
 unknowne, far from such as should pursue 
 them, and because it was a countrey very 
 plentifull of come and other victuals, 
 where when we had remained the space 
 three dayes, and that I poore Asse and the other 
 horses were fed and kept in the stable to the intent we 
 might seeme more saleable, we were brought out at length 
 to the market, and by and by a crier sounded with his home 
 7 171
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER to notifie that we were to be sold : all my companion horses 
 
 XXXVI were bought up by Gentlemen, but as for me I stood still 
 
 lowApuleius f orsa k en o f all men. And when many buiers came by and 
 
 bv^di'vere^p/r- lked in my mouth to know mine age, I was so weary with 
 
 sous, and how opening my j awes that at length (unable to endure any longer) 
 
 they looked when one came with a stinking paire of hands, and grated 
 
 in his mouth mv gummes with his filthy fingers, I bit them cleane oft', which 
 
 o know his th"ing caused the slanders by to forsake me as being a fierce 
 
 and cruell beast : the crier when he had gotten a hoarse voice 
 
 with crying, and saw that no man would buy me, began to 
 
 mocke me saving, To what end stand we here with this wide 
 
 Asse, this feeble beast, this slow jade with worne hooves, good 
 
 for nothing but to make sives of his skin ? Why do we not 
 
 give him to some body, for he earneth not his hay? In this 
 
 manner he made all the standers by to laugh exceedingly, but 
 
 my evill fortune which was ever so cruell against me, whom I 
 
 by travell of so many countreys could in no wise escape, did 
 
 more and more envie me, with invention of new meanes to 
 
 afflict my poore body in giving me a new Master as spitefull 
 
 as the rest. There was an old man somewhat bald, with 
 
 long and gray haire, one of the number of those that go from 
 
 door to door, throughout all the villages, bearing the Image 
 
 of the goddesse Syria, and playing with Gimbals to get the 
 
 almes of good and charitable folks, this old man came hastely 
 
 towards the cryer, and demanded where I was bred : Marry 
 
 (quoth he) hi Cappadocia : Then he enquired what age I was 
 
 of, the cryer answered as a Mathematician, which disposed to 
 
 me my Planets, that I was five yeares old, and willed the old 
 
 man to looke in my mouth : For I would not willingly (quoth 
 
 he) incur the penalty of the law Cornelia, in selling a free 
 
 Citizen for a servile slave, buy a Gods name this faire beast 
 
 to ride home on, and about in the countrey : But this curious 
 
 buier did never stint to question of my qualities, and at 
 
 length he demanded whether I were gentle or no : Gentle 
 
 (quoth the crier) as gentle as a Lambe, tractable to all use, 
 
 he will never bite, he will never kicke, but you would rather 
 
 thinke that under the shape of an Asse there were some well 
 
 advised man, which verely you may easily conject, for if you 
 
 would thrust your nose in his taile you shall perceive how 
 
 172
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 patient he is: Thus the cryer mocked the old man, but he CHAPTER 
 perceiving his taunts and jests, waxed very angry saying, Away XXXVI 
 doting cryer, I pray the omnipotent and omniparent goddesse How Apuleius 
 Syria, Saint Sabod, Bellona, with her mother Idea, and Venus, RjJJjJJj! 
 with Adonis, to strike out both thine eies, that with taunting sons, and how 
 mocks hast scoffed me in this sort : Dost thou thinke that I the/ looked 
 will put a goddesse upon the backe of any fierce beast, where- in his mouth 
 by her divine Image snould be throwne downe on the ground, to 
 and so I poore miser should be compelled (tearing my haire) 
 to looke for some Physition to helpe her ? When I heard 
 him speake thus, I thought with my selfe sodainly to leap 
 upon him like a mad Asse, to the intent he shoulcf not buy 
 me, but incontinently there came another Marchant that 
 prevented my thought, and offered 17 Pence for me, then 
 my Master was glad and received the mony, and delivered me 
 to my new Master who was called Phelibus, and he caried his 
 new servant home, and before he came to his house, he called 
 out his daughters saying, Behold my daughters, what a gentle 
 servant I have bought for you : then they were marvailous 
 glad, and comming out pratling and shouting for joy, thought 
 verely that he had brought home a fit and conveniable ser- 
 vant for their purpose, but when they perceived that it was 
 an Asse, they began to provoke him, saying, that he had not 
 bought a servant for his Maidens, but rather an Asse for 
 himselfe. Howbeit (quoth they) keepe him not wholly for 
 your owne riding, but let us likewise have him at commande- 
 ment. Therewithall they led me into the stable, and tied 
 me to the manger : there was a certaine yong man with a 
 mighty body, wel skilled in playing on instruments before the 
 gods to get money, who (as soone as he had espied me) enter- 
 tained me verie well, fqr he filled my racke and maunger full 
 of meat, and spake merrily saying, O master Asse, you are 
 very welcome, now you shall take my office in hand, you are 
 come to supply my roome, and to ease me of my miserable 
 labour : but I pray God thou maist long live and please my 
 Master well, to the end thou maist continually deliver me 
 from so great paine. When I heard these words I did prog- 
 nosticate my miserie to come. 
 
 The day following I saw there a great number of persons
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER apparelled in divers colours, having painted faces, miters on 
 
 XXXVI their heads, vestiments coloured like saffron, Surplesses of 
 
 lowApuleius gjike^ an( j on their feet yellow shooes, who attired the god- 
 
 bv^ivers^r- desse in a robe of Purple, and put her upon my backe. Then 
 
 sons, and how they went forth with their armes naked to their shoulders, 
 
 they looked bearing with them great swords and mightie axes, and dancing 
 
 in his mouth \j^ e mac l persons. After that we had passed many small 
 
 o know his yjHagg^ we fortuned to come to one Britunis house, where at 
 
 our first entrie they began to hurle themselves hither and 
 
 thither, as though they were mad. They made a thousand 
 
 gestures with their feete and their hands, they would bite 
 
 themselves, finally, every one tooke his weapon and wounded 
 
 his armes in divers places. 
 
 Amongst whom there was one more mad then the rest, that 
 fet many deepe sighes from the bottome of his heart, as 
 though he had beene ravished in spirite, or replenished with 
 divine power. And after that, he somewhat returning to 
 himselfe, invented and forged a great lye, saying, that he had 
 displeased the divine majesty of the goddesse, by doing of 
 some thing which was not convenable to the order of their 
 holy religion, wherefore he would doe vengeance of himselfe : 
 and therewithall he tooke a whip, and scourged his owne 
 body, that the bloud issued out aboundantly, which thing 
 caused me greatly to feare, to see such wounds and effusion 
 of bloud, least the same goddesse desiring so much the bloud 
 of men, should likewise desire the bloud of an Asse. After 
 they were wearie with hurling and beating themselves, they 
 sate downe, and behold, the inhabitants came in, and offered 
 gold, silver, vessels of wine, milke, cheese, flower, wheate and 
 other things : amongst whom there was one, that brought 
 barly to the Asse that carried the goddesse, but the greedie 
 whoresons thrust all into their sacke, which they brought for 
 the purpose and put it upon my backe, to the end I might 
 serve for two purposes, that is to say, for the barne by reason 
 of my come, and for the Temple by reason of the goddesse. 
 In this sort, they went from place to place, robbing all the 
 Countrey over. At length they came to a certaine Castle 
 where under colour of divination, they brought to passe that 
 they obtained a fat sheepe of a poore husbandman for the 
 174
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 goddesse supper and to make sacrifice withall. After that CHAPTER 
 the banket was prepared, they washed their bodies, and XXXVI 
 brought in a tall young man of the village, to sup with them, HowApulems 
 who had scarce tasted a few pottage, when hee began to dis- by^ive^per- 
 cover their beastly customes and inordinate desire of luxury. S0 ns, and how 
 For they compassed him round about, sitting at the table, they looked 
 and abused the young man, contrary to all nature and reason. * n *" s mouth 
 When I beheld this horrible fact, I could not but attempt to t 
 utter my mind and say, O masters, but I could pronounce no 
 more but the first letter O, which I roared out so valiantly, 
 that the young men of the towne seeking for a straie Asse, 
 that they had lost the same night, and hearing my voice, 
 whereby they judged that I had beene theirs, entred into the 
 house unwares, and found these persons committing their 
 vilde abhomination, which when they saw, they declared to 
 all the inhabitants by, their unnaturall villany, mocking and 
 laughing at this the pure and cleane chastity of their religion. 
 In the meane season, Phelibus and his company, (by reason 
 of the bruit which was dispersed throughout all the region 
 there of their beastly wickednesse) put all their trumpery 
 upon my backe, and departed away about midnight. When 
 we had passed a great part of our journey, before the rising 
 of the Sun, we came into a wild desart, where they conspired 
 together to slay me. For after they had taken the goofdesse 
 from my backe and set her gingerly upon the ground, they 
 likewise tooke off my harnesse, and bound me surely to an 
 Oake, beating me with their whip, in such sort that all my 
 body was mortified. Amongst whom there was one that 
 threatned to cut off my legs with his hatchet, because by my 
 noyse I diffamed his chastity, but the other regarding more 
 their owne profit then my utility, thought best to spare my 
 life, because I might carry home the goddesse. So they laded 
 me againe, driving me before them with their naked swords, 
 till they came to a noble City : where the principall Patrone 
 bearing high reverence unto the goddesse, came in great 
 devotion before us with Tympany, Cymbals, and other 
 instruments, and received her, and all our company with much 
 sacrifice and veneration. But there I remember, I thought 
 my selfe in most danger, for there was one that brought to 
 
 175
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER the Master of the house, a side of a fat Bucke for a present, 
 XXXVI which being hanged behind the kitchin doore, not far from 
 liu ? the ground, was cleane eaten up by a gray hound, that came 
 by divers^per- * n - T ne Cooke when he saw the Venison devoured, lamented 
 sons, and how and wept pitifully. And because supper time approached nigh, 
 they looked when as he should be reproved of too much negligence, he 
 m his mouth t oo k e a halter to hang himselfe : but his wife perceiving where- 
 about he went, ran incontinently to him, and taking the 
 halter in both her hands, stopped him of his purpose, saying, 
 O husband, are you out of your wits ? pray husband follow 
 my counsel, cary this strange Asse out into some secret place 
 and kill him, which done, cut off one of his sides, and 
 sawce it well like the side of the Bucke, and set it before 
 your Master. Then the Cooke hearing the counsell 
 of his wife, was well pleased to slay me to save 
 himselfe : and so he went to the whetstone, 
 to sharpe his tooles accordingly. 
 
 176
 
 THE 
 
 NINTH BOOKE 
 
 of LUCIUS APULEIUS of 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 THE THIRTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius saved himselfe from the Cooke, 
 
 breaking his halter, and of other things 
 
 that happened. 
 
 N this manner the traiterous Cooke prepared 
 himselfe to slay me : and when he was 
 ready with his knives to doe his feat, I 
 devised with my selfe how I might escape 
 the present perill, and I did not long 
 delay : for incontinently I brake the halter 
 wherewith I was tied, and flinging my 
 heeles hither and thither to save my selfe, 
 at length I ran hastily into a Parlour, where the Master 
 of the house was feasting with the Priests of the god- 
 desse Syria, and disquieted all the company, throwing downe 
 their meats and drinks from the table. The Master of 
 the house dismayed at my great disorder, commanded one 
 of his servants to take me up, and locke me in some strong 
 place, to the end I might disturb them no more. But I 
 little regarded my imprisonment, considering that I was 
 happily delivered from the hands of the traiterous Cooke. 
 Howbeit fortune, or the fatall disposition of the divine provi- 
 dence, which neither can be avoided by wise counsell, neither 
 yet by any wholesome remedie, invented a new torment, for 
 by and by a young ladde came running into the Parlour all 
 trembling, and declared to the Master of the house, that there 
 was a madde Dog running about in the streetes, which had 
 
 179
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER done much harme, for he had bitten many grey hounds 
 XXXVII ^d Horses in the Inne by : And he spared neither man nor 
 ^A P ulejus beast For there was Qne Mitilius a Mulettour, Epheseus, 
 selfe from the a Cooke, Hyppanius a chamberlaine, and Appolonius a 
 Cooke, break- Physition, who (thinking to chase away the madde Dogge) 
 ing his halter, were cruelly wounded by him, insomuch that many Horses 
 and of ther an j o ^ ner beasts infectecl with the venyme of his poysonous 
 harmened teeth became madde likewise. Which thing caused them all 
 at the table greatly to feare, and thinking that I had beene 
 bitten in like sort, came out with speares, Clubs, and Pitch- 
 forks purposing to slay me, and I had undoubtedly beene 
 slaine, had I not by and by crept into the Chamber, where 
 my Master intended to lodge all night. Then they closed 
 and locked fast the doores about me, and kept the chamber 
 round, till such time as they thought that the pestilent rage 
 of madnesse had killed me. When I was thus shutte in the 
 chamber alone, I laid me downe upon the bed to sleepe, con- 
 sidering it was long time past, since I lay and tooke my rest as 
 a man doth. When morning was come, and that I was well 
 reposed, I rose up lustily. In the meane season, they which 
 were appointed to watch about the chamber all night, reasoned 
 with themselves in this sort, Verely (quoth one) I think that 
 this rude Asse be dead. So think I (quoth another) for the 
 outragious poyson of madnes hath killed him, but being thus 
 in divers opinions of a poore Asse, they looked through a 
 crevis, and espied me standing still, sober and quiet in the 
 middle of the chamber ; then they opened the doores, and 
 came towards me, to prove whether I were gentle or no. 
 Amongst whom there was one, which in my opinion, was sent 
 from Heaven to save my life, that willed the other to set 
 a bason of faire water before me, and thereby they would 
 know whether I were mad or no, for if I did drinke without 
 feare as I accustomed to do, it was a signe that I was whole, 
 and in mine Assie wits, where contrary if I did flie and 
 abhorre the tast of the water, it was an evident proofe of my 
 madnes, which thing he said that he had read in ancient and 
 credible books, whereupon they tooke a bason of cleere water, 
 and presented it before me : but I as soone as I perceived the 
 wholsome water of my life, ran incontinently, thrusting my
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 head into the bason, drank as though I had beene greatly 
 athirst ; then they stroked me with their hands, and bowed 
 mine eares, and tooke me by the halter, to prove my patience, 
 but I taking each thing in good part, disproved their mad 
 presumption, by my meeke and gentle behaviour : when I 
 was thus delivered from this double danger, the next day I 
 was laded againe with the goddesse Siria, and other trumpery, 
 and was brought into the way with Trumpets and Cymbals 
 to beg in the villages which we passed by according to our 
 custome. And after that we had gone through a few towns 
 and Castles, we fortuned to come to a certaine village, which 
 was builded (as the inhabitants there affirme) upon the foun- 
 dation of a famous ancient Citie. And after that we had 
 turned into the next Inne, we heard of a prettie jest 
 committed in the towne there, which I would 
 that you should know likewise. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 XXXVII 
 
 HowApuleius 
 saved him- 
 self e from the 
 Cooke, break- 
 ing his halter, 
 and of other 
 things that 
 happened 
 
 THE THIRTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER 
 
 Of the deceipt of a Woman which made her 
 husband Cuckold. 
 
 HERE was a man dwelling in the towne 
 very poore, that had nothing but that 
 which he got by the labour and travell of 
 his hands : his wife was a faire young 
 woman, but very lascivious, and given to 
 the appetite and desire of the flesh. It 
 fortuned on a day, that while this poore 
 man was gone betimes in the morning to 
 the field about his businesse, according as he accustomed to 
 doe, his wives lover secretly came into his house to have his 
 pleasure with her. And so it chanced that during the time 
 that shee and he were basking together, her husband sus- 
 pecting no such matter, returned home praising the chast 
 continency of his wife, in that hee found his doores fast 
 closed, wherefore as his custome was, he whistled to declare 
 his comming. Then his crafty wife ready with shifts, caught 
 
 181
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER her lover and covered him under a great tub standing in a 
 XXXVIII corner, and therewithal! she opened the doore, blaming her 
 
 O^ 6 -^ 606 ^* husband in this sort: Commest thou home every day with 
 
 which made em pty hands, and bringest nothing to maintaine our house ? 
 
 her husband thou hast no regard for our profit, neither providest for any 
 Cuckold meate or drinke, whereas I poore wretch doe nothing day 
 and night but occupie my selfe with spinning, and yet my 
 travell will scarce find the Candels which we spend. O how 
 much more happy is my neighbour Daphne, that eateth and 
 drinketh at her pleasure, and passeth the time with her 
 amorous lovers according to her desire. What is the matter 
 (quoth her husband) though our Master hath made holiday 
 at the fields, yet thinke not but I have made provision for 
 our supper ; doest thou not see this tub that keepeth a place 
 here in our house in vaine, and doth us no service ? Behold I 
 have sold it to a good fellow (that is here present) for five 
 pence, wherefore I pray thee lend me thy hand, that I may 
 deliver him the tub. His wife (having invented a present 
 shift) laughed on her husband, saying: What marchant I 
 pray you have you brought home hither, to fetch away my 
 tub for five pence, for which I poore woman that sit all day 
 alone in my house have beene preferred so often seaven : her 
 husband being well apayed of her words demanded what he 
 was that had bought the tub : Looke (quoth she) he is gone 
 under, to see where it be sound or no : then her lover which 
 was under the tub, began to stirre and rustle himselfe, and 
 because his words might agree to the words of the woman, 
 he sayd : Dame will you have me tell the truth, this tub is 
 rotten and crackt as me seemeth on every side. And then 
 turning to her husband sayd : I pray you honest man light a 
 Candle, that I may make cleane the tub within, to see if it 
 be for my purpose or no, for I doe not mind to cast away 
 my money wilfully : he by and by (being made a very Oxe) 
 lighted a candle, saying, I pray you good brother put not 
 your selfe to so much paine, let me make the tub cleane 
 and ready for you. Whereupon he put off his coate, and 
 crept under the tub to rub away the filth from the sides. In 
 the meane season this minion lover cast his wife on the 
 bottome of the tub, and had his pleasure with her over his 
 182
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 head, and as he was in the middest of his pastime, hee turned CHAPTER 
 his head on this side and that side, finding fault with this XXXVIII 
 
 and with that, till as they had both ended their businesse, Of the deceipt 
 
 , IJTJ p.i or a Woman 
 
 when as he delivered seaven pence for the tub, and vrhich made 
 
 caused the good man himselfe to carry it on her husband 
 
 his backe againe to his Inne. Cuckold 
 
 THE THIRTY-NINTH CHAPTER 
 
 How the Priests of the goddesse Siria were taken 
 
 and put in prison, and how Apuleius was 
 
 sold to a Baker. 
 
 FTER that we had tarried there a few dayes 
 at the cost and charges of the whole Vil- 
 lage, and had gotten much mony by our 
 divination and prognostication of things 
 to come : The priests of the goddesse 
 Siria invented a new meanes to picke 
 mens purses, for they had certaine lofts, 
 whereon were written : Coniuncti terram 
 proscindunt boves ut injuturum Iceta germinent sata : that is 
 to say : The Oxen tied and yoked together, doe till the 
 ground to the intent it may bring forth his increase : and 
 by these kind of lottes they deceive many of the simple sort, 
 for if one had demanded whether he should have a good 
 wife or no, they would say that his lot did testifie the same, 
 that he should be tyed and yoked to a good woman and 
 have increase of children. If one demanded whether he 
 should buy lands and possession, they said that he should 
 have much ground that should yeeld his increase. If one 
 demanded whether he should have a good and prosperous 
 voyage, they said he should have good successe, and it should 
 be for the increase of his profit. If one demanded whether 
 hee should vanquish his enemies, and prevaile in pursuite 
 of theeves, they said that this enemy should be tyed and 
 yoked to him : and his pursuite after theeves should be 
 prosperous. Thus by the telling of fortunes, they gathered 
 
 183
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER a great quantity of money, but when they were weary with 
 XXXIX giving of answers, they arave me away before them next 
 
 How the night, through a lane which was more dangerous and stony 
 
 rnests of the ,1.1 r i_ . .1 i , i /? / ,1 
 
 ffoddesse Siria ^" en ^ ne Wa 7 wnlcn we went the night before, for on the one 
 
 were taken side were quagmires and foggy marshes, on the other side 
 
 and put in were falling trenches and ditches, whereby my legges failed 
 
 prison, and m6j m sucn sor t that I could scarce come to the plaine 
 
 w^sofd tTa fie[d . P athes - A* 1 * 1 behold by and by a great company of in- 
 
 Baker habitants of the towne armed with weapons and on horse- 
 
 backe overtooke us, and incontinently arresting Philebus and 
 
 his Priests, tied them by the necks and beate them cruelly, 
 
 calling them theeves and robbers, and after they had 
 
 manacled their hands : Shew us (quoth they) the cup of 
 
 fold, which (under the colour of your solemne religion) ye 
 ave taken away, and now ye thinke to escape in the night 
 without punishment for your fact. By and by one came 
 towards me, and thrusting his hand into the bosome of the 
 goddesse Siria, brought out the cup which they had stole. 
 Howbeit for all they appeared evident and plaine they 
 would not be confounded nor abashed, but jesting and 
 laughing out the matter, gan say : Is it reason masters that 
 you should thus rigorously intreat us, and threaten for a 
 small trifling cup, which the mother of the goddesse deter- 
 mined to give to her sister for a present ? Howbeit for all 
 their lyes and cavellations, they were carryed backe unto the 
 towne, and put in prison by the Inhabitants, who taking the 
 cup of gold, and the goddesse which I bare, did put and 
 consecrate them amongst the treasure of the temple. The 
 next day I was carryed to the market to be sold, and my 
 price was set at seaven pence more then Philebus gave for 
 me. There fortuned to passe by a Baker of the next village, 
 who after that he had bought a great deale of corne, bought 
 me likewise to carry it home, and when he had well laded 
 me therewith, he drave me through a thorny and dangerous 
 way to his bakehouse ; there I saw a great company of horses 
 that went in the mill day and night grinding of corne, but 
 lest I should be discouraged at the first, my master entertained 
 me well, for the first day I did nothing but fare daintily, 
 howbeit such mine ease and felicity did not long endure, for 
 184
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 the next day following I was tyed to the mill betimes in the CHAPTER 
 morning with my face covered, to the end in turning and XXXIX 
 
 winding so often one way, I should not become giddy, but ? ow ** 
 i , i . i.i vi T T Priests of the 
 
 keepe a certame course, but although when I was a man I goddesse Siria 
 
 had seen many such horsemills and knew well enough how were taken 
 
 they should be turned, yet feining my selfe ignorant of such and put in 
 
 kind of toile, I stood still and would not goe, whereby I P" 80n > and 
 
 thought I should be taken from the mill as an Asse unapt, ^ SS^l 
 
 and put to some other light thing, or else to be driven into Baker 
 
 the fields to pasture, but my subtilty did me small good, 
 
 for by and by when the mill stood still, the servants came 
 
 about me, crying and beating me forward, in such sort 
 
 that I could not stay to advise my selfe, whereby all the 
 
 company laughed to see so suddaine a change. When a good 
 
 part of the day was past, that I was not able to endure 
 
 any longer, they tooke off my harnesse, and tied me to 
 
 the manger, but although my bones were weary, and that 
 
 I needed to refresh my selfe with rest and provender, yet 
 
 I was so curious that I did greatly delight to behold the 
 
 bakers art, insomuch that I could not eate nor drinke while 
 
 I looked on. 
 
 O good Lord what a sort of poore slaves were there ; some 
 had their skinne blacke and blew, some had their backes 
 striped with lashes, some were covered with rugged sackes, 
 some had their members onely hidden: some wore such ragged 
 clouts, that you might perceive all their naked bodies, some 
 were marked and burned in the heads with hot yrons, some 
 had their haire halfe clipped, some had lockes on their 
 legges, some very ugly and evill favoured, that they could 
 scarce see, their eyes and face were so blacke and dimme witli 
 smoake, like those that fight in the sands, and know not 
 where they strike by reason of dust: And some had their 
 faces all mealy. But how should I speake of the horses my 
 companions, how they being old and weake, thrust their 
 heads into the manger : they had their neckes all wounded 
 and worne away : they rated their nosethrilles with a con- 
 tinuall cough, their sides were bare with their harnesse and 
 great travell, their ribs were broken with beating, their 
 hooves were battered broad with incessant labour, and their 
 
 2 A 185
 
 CHAPTER 
 XXXIX 
 
 How the 
 
 Priests of the 
 
 goddesse Siria 
 
 were taken 
 
 and put in 
 
 prison, and 
 
 how Apuleius 
 
 was sold to a 
 
 Baker 
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 skinne rugged by reason of their lancknesse. When I saw 
 
 this dreadfull sight, I began to feare, least I should come to 
 
 the like state : and considering with my selfe the good 
 
 fortune which I was sometime in when I was a man, I 
 
 greatly lamented, holding downe my head, and would eate 
 
 no meate, but I saw no comfort or consolation of my evill 
 
 fortune, saving that my mind was somewhat recreated to 
 
 heare and understand what every man said, for they neither 
 
 feared nor doubted my presence. At that time I remembred 
 
 how Homer the divine authour of ancient Poetry, described 
 
 him to be a wise man, which had travelled divers countries 
 
 and nations, wherefore I gave great thanks to my Asse for 
 
 me, in that by this meanes I had scene the experience of many 
 
 things, and was become more wise (notwithstanding the great 
 
 misery and labour which I daily sustained) : but I will 
 
 tell you a pretty jest, which commeth now to my 
 
 remembrance, to the intent your eares may be 
 
 delighted in hearing the same. 
 
 THE FORTIETH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was handled by the Bakers wife, 
 which was a harlot. 
 
 HE Baker which bought me was an honest 
 and sober man ; but his wife was the most 
 pestilent woman in all the world, inso- 
 much that he endured many miseries and 
 afflictions with her, so that I my selfe did 
 secretly pitty his estate, and bewaile his 
 evill fortune : for she had not one fault 
 alone, but all the mischiefes that could 
 be devised : shee was crabbed, cruell, lascivious, drunken, 
 obstinate, niggish, covetous, riotous in filthy expenses, and an 
 enemy to faith and chastity, a despiser of all the Gods, whom 
 other did honour, one that affirmed that she had a God by 
 her selfe, wherby she deceived all men, but especially her 
 poore husband, one that abandoned her body with continuall 
 186
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 whoredome. This mischievous queane hated me in such sort, CHAPTER 
 that shee commanded every day before she was up, that I XL 
 should be put into the mill to grind : and the first thing which H w Apuleiua 
 she would doe in the morning, was to see me cruelly beaten, S!A^!! 
 and that I should grind when the other beasts did feed and w if e , which 
 take rest. When I saw that I was so cruelly handled, she gave was a harlot 
 me occasion to learne her conversation and life, for I saw often- 
 times a yong man which would privily goe into her chamber, 
 whose face I did greatly desire to see, but I could not by 
 reason mine eyes were covered every day. And verily if I 
 had beene free and at liberty, I would have discovered all 
 her abhomination. She had an old woman, a bawd, a 
 messenger of mischiefe that daily haunted to her house, 
 and made good cheere with her to the utter undoing and 
 impoverishment of her husband, but I that was greatly 
 offended with the negligence of Fotis, who made me an 
 Asse, in stead of a Bird, did yet comfort my selfe by this 
 onely meane, in that to the miserable deformity of my 
 shape, I had long eares, whereby I might heare all things 
 that was done : On a day I heard the old bawd say to the 
 Bakers wife : 
 
 Dame you have chosen (without my counsell) a young 
 man to your lover, who as me seemeth, is dull, fearefull, 
 without any grace, and dastardlike coucheth at the frowning 
 looke of your odious husband, whereby you have no delight 
 nor pleasure with him : how farre better is the young man 
 Philesiterus who is comely, beautifull. in the flower of his 
 youth, liberall, courteous, valiant and stout against the 
 diligent pries and watches of your husband, whereby to 
 embrace the worthiest dames of this country, and worthy to 
 weare a crowne of gold, for one part that he played to one 
 that was jealous over his wife. Hearken how it was and then 
 judge the diversity of these two Lovers : Know you not one 
 Barbarus a Senator of our towne, whom the vulgar people 
 call likewise Scorpion for his severity of manners? This 
 Barbarus had a gentlewoman to his wife, whom he caused 
 daily to be enclosed within his house, with diligent custody. 
 Then the Bakers wife said, I know her very well, for we two 
 dwelleth together in one house : Then you know (quoth 
 
 187
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER the old woman) the whole tale of Philesiterus ? No verily 
 XL (said she) but I greatly desire to know it : therefore I 
 HowApuleius pray you mother tell me the whole story. By and 
 
 ^the Bakers b 7 the old woman which knew wel1 to babble, 
 wife which began to tell as followeth. 
 
 was a harlot 
 
 THE FORTY-FIRST CHAPTER 
 
 How Barbarus being jealous over his wife, com- 
 manded that shee should be kept close in his 
 house, and what happened. 
 
 OU shall understand that on a day this 
 Barbarus preparing himselfe to ride 
 abroad, and willing to keepe the chastity 
 of his wife (whom he so well loved) alone 
 to himselfe, called his man Myrmex 
 (whose faith he had tryed and proved in 
 many things) and secretly committed to 
 him the custody of his wife, willing him 
 that he should threaten, that if any man did but touch her 
 with his finger as he passed by, he would not onely put him 
 in prison, and bind him hand and foote, but also cause him 
 to be put to death, or else to be famished for lacke of sus- 
 tenance, which words he confirmed by an oath of all the Gods 
 in heaven, and so departed away : When Barbarus was gone, 
 Myrmex being greatly astonied of his masters threatnings, 
 would not suffer his mistresse to goe abroad, but as she sate 
 all day a Spinning, he was so carefull that he sate by her ; 
 when night came he went with her to the baines, holding 
 her by the garment, so faithfull he was to fulfill the com- 
 mandement of his master : Howbeit the beauty of this 
 matron could not be hidden from the burning eyes of Phile- 
 siterus, who considering her great chastity, and how she 
 was diligently kept by Myrmex, thought it impossible to 
 have his purpose, yet (indevouring by all kind of meanes to 
 enterprise the matter, and remembring the fragility of 
 man, that might be intised and currupted with money, since 
 188
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 as by gold the Adamant gates may be opened) on a day, CHAPTER 
 when he found Myrmex alone, he discovered his love, desir- XLI 
 ing him to shew his favour, (otherwise he should certainly . How ]^ r " 
 dye) with assurance that he need not to feare when as hejJJJJJ'g "ver 
 might privily be let in and out in the night, without know- his wife, com- 
 ledge of any person. When he thought, with these and manded that 
 other gentle words to allure and prick forward the obstinate shee should be 
 mind of Myrmex he shewed him glittering gold in his hand, ^house^and 
 saying that he would give his mistresse twenty crownes and w h a t hap- 
 him ten, but Myrmex hearing these words, was greatly pened 
 troubled, abhorring in his mind to commit such a mischiefe : 
 wherfore he stopped his eares, and turning his head departed 
 away : howbeit the glittering view of these crownes could 
 never out of his mind, but being at home he seemed to see the 
 money before his eyes, which was so worthy a prey, where- 
 fore poore Myrmex being in divers opinions could not tell 
 what to doe, lor on the one side he considered the promise 
 which he made to his master, and the punishment that should 
 ensue if he did contrary. On the other side he thought of the 
 gaine, and the passing pleasure of the crownes of gold ; in the 
 end the desire of the money did more prevaile then the feare 
 of death, for the beauty of the flowrishing crownes did so 
 sticke in his mind, that where the menaces of his master com- 
 pelled him to tarry at home, the pestilent avarice of gold 
 egged him out a doores, wherefore putting all shame aside, 
 without further delay, he declared all the whole matter to his 
 Mistresse, who according to the nature of a woman, when she 
 heard him speake of so great a summe, she bound chastity in 
 a string, and gave authority to Myrmex to rule her in that 
 case. Myrmex seeing the intent of his Mistresse, was very glad, 
 and for great desire of the gold, he ran hastily to Philesiterus, 
 declaring that his Mistresse was consented to his mind, 
 wherefore he demanded the gold which he promised. Then 
 incontinently Philesiterus delivered him tenne Crownes, and 
 when night came, Myrmex brought him disguised into his 
 mistresses Chamber. About Midnight when he and she were 
 naked together, making sacrifice unto the Goddesse Venus, 
 behold her husband (contrary to their expectation) came and 
 knocked at the doore, calling with a loud voice to his Servant 
 
 189
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER Myrmex : whose long tarrying increased the suspition of his 
 XLI Master, in such sort that he threatned to beat Myrmex 
 
 TTjr -ry J 
 
 . rt cruelly : but he being troubled with feare, and driven to his 
 
 jealous 6 over l ft tter shifts, excused the matter saying : that he could not 
 
 his wife, com- find the key : by reason it was so darke. In the meane 
 
 manded that season Philesiterus hearing the noise at the doore, slipt on 
 
 shee should be \ l [ s coa ^ an( j privily ran out of the Chamber. When Myrmex 
 
 hb P house and had P ened th . e doore to his Master that threatned terribly, 
 
 what hap- an ^ had let him in, he went into the Chamber to his wife : 
 
 pened In the meane while Myrmex let out Philesiterus, and barred 
 
 the doores fast, and went againe to bed. The next morning 
 
 when Barbaras awaked, he perceived two unknown slippers 
 
 lying under his bed, which Philesiterus had forgotten when 
 
 he went away. Then he conceived a great suspition and 
 
 jealousie in mind, howbeit he would not discover it to his 
 
 wife, neither to any other person, but putting secretly the 
 
 slippers into his bosome, commanded his other Servants to 
 
 bind Myrmex incontinently, and to bring him bound to the 
 
 Justice after him, thinking verily that by the meane of the 
 
 slippers he might boult out the matter. It fortuned that 
 
 while Barbarus went towards the Justice in a fury and rage, 
 
 and Myrmex fast bound, followed him weeping, not because 
 
 he was accused before his master, but by reason he knew his 
 
 owne conscience guilty : behold by adventure Philesiterus 
 
 (going about earnest businesse) fortuned to meete with them 
 
 by the way, who fearing the matter which he committed the 
 
 night before, and doubting lest it should be knowne, did 
 
 suddainly invent a meane to excuse Myrmex, for he ran upon 
 
 him and beate him about the head with his fists, saying : Ah 
 
 mischievous varlet that thou art, and perjured knave. It 
 
 were a good deed if the Goddesse and thy master here, would 
 
 put thee to death, for thou art worthy to be imprisoned and 
 
 to weare out these yrons, that stalest my slippers away when 
 
 thou werest at my baines yester night. Barbarus hearing this 
 
 returned incontinently home, and called his servant Myrmex, 
 
 commanding him to deliver the slippers againe to the right 
 
 owner. The old woman had scant finished her tale when the 
 
 Bakers wife gan say : Verily she is blessed and most blessed, 
 
 that hath the fruition of so worthy a lover, but as for me 
 
 190
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 poore miser, I am fallen into the hands of a coward, who CHAPTER 
 is not onely afraid of my husband but also of every clap of XLI 
 the mill, and dares not doe nothing, before the blind face , How 
 
 of yonder scabbed Asse. Then the old woman answered, ; PA 
 
 I. . i ./, .,, i 11 i .1 J* 5 " 
 
 promise you certainly if you will, you shall have this young his wife, corn- 
 man at your pleasure, and therewithall when night came, manded that 
 she departed out of her chamber. In the meane season, the shee should be 
 Bakers wife made ready a supper with abundance of wine and hShouse^and 
 exquisite fare : so that there lacked nothing, but the com- w hat hap- 
 ming of the young man, for her husband supped at one of pened 
 her neighbours houses. When time came that my harnesse 
 should be taken off and that I should rest my selfe, I was 
 not so joyfull of my liberty, as when the vaile was taken from 
 mine eyes, I should see all the abhomination of this mis- 
 chievous queane. When night was come and the Sunne gone 
 downe, behold the old bawd and the young man, who seemed 
 to me but a child, by reason he had no beard, came to the 
 doore. Then the Bakers wife kissed him a thousand times 
 and received him courteously, placed him downe at the table : 
 but he had scarce eaten the first morsell, when the good man 
 (contrary to his wives expectation) returned home, for she 
 thought he would not have come so soone : but Lord how 
 she cursed him, praying God that he might breake his necke 
 at the first entry in. In the meane season, she caught her 
 lover and thrust him into the bin where she bolted her flower, 
 and dissembling the matter, finely came to her husband 
 demanding why he came home so soone. I could not abide 
 (quod he) to see so great a mischiefe and wicked fact, which 
 my neighbours wife committed, but I must run away : O 
 harlot as she is, how hath she dishonoured her husband, I 
 sweare by the goddesse Ceres, that if I had [not] scene it with 
 mine eyes, I would never have beleeved it. His wife desirous 
 to know the matter, desired him to tell what she had done : 
 then hee accorded to the request of his wife, and ignorant 
 of the estate of his own house, declared the mischance of 
 another. You shall understand (quoth he) that the wife of 
 the Fuller my companion, who seemed to me a wise and 
 chast woman, regarding her own honesty and profit of her 
 house, was found this night with her knave. For while we 
 
 191
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER went to wash our hands, hee and she were together : who 
 
 XLI being troubled with our presence ran into a corner, and she 
 
 , thrust him into a mow made with twigs, appoynted to lay 
 
 jealous "ver on c lthes to make them white with the smoake of fume 
 
 his wife, com- and brymstone. Then she sate down with us at the table 
 
 manded that to colour the matter : in the meane season the young man 
 
 shee should be covered in the mow, could not forbeare sneesing, by reason 
 
 ose *j of the smoake of the brymstone. The good man thinking 
 
 his house, and . , , , , . . /, , , . , . 
 
 what hap- na d beene his wife that sneesed, cryed, Christ helpe. 
 
 pened But when he sneesed more, he suspected the matter, and 
 willing to know who it was, rose from the table, and went 
 to the mow, where hee found a young man welnigh dead with 
 smoke. When hee understood the whole matter, he was so 
 inflamed with anger that he called for a sword to kill him, 
 and undoubtedly he had killed him, had I not restrained his 
 violent hands from his purpose, assuring him, that his enemy 
 would dye with the force of his brimstone, without the 
 harme which he should doe. Howbeit my words would not 
 appease his fury, but as necessity required he tooke the 
 young man well nigh choked, and carried him out at the 
 doores. In the meane season, I counsailed his wife to absent 
 her selfe at some of her Neighbours houses, till the choller 
 of her Husband was pacified, lest he should be moved against 
 her, as he was against the young-man. And so being weary 
 of their Supper, I forthwith returned home. When the 
 Baker had told his tale, his impudent wife began to curse 
 and abhorre the wife of the Fuller, and generally all other 
 wives, which abandon their bodies with any other then with 
 their owne Husbands, breaking the faith and bond of mar- 
 riage, whereby she said, they were worthy to be burned 
 alive. But knowing her owne guilty conscience and proper 
 whoredome, lest her lover should be hurt lying in the bin, 
 she willed her husband to goe to bed, but he having eaten 
 nothing, said that he would sup before he went to rest : 
 whereby shee was compelled to maugre her eies, to set such 
 things on the Table as she had prepared for her Lover. 
 
 But I, considering the great mischiefe of this wicked 
 queane, devised with my selfe how I might reveale the mat- 
 ter to my Master, and by kicking away the cover of the 
 
 192
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 binne (where like a Snaile the young-man was couched) to CHAPTER 
 make her whoredome apparant and knowne. At length I XLI 
 was ayded by the providence of God, for there was an old How Bar ' 
 man to whom the custody of us was committed, that drave j 8 being 
 me poore Asse, and the other Horses the same time to the his wtfe, com- 
 water to drinke ; then had I good occasion ministred, to manded' that 
 revenge the injury of my master, for as I passed by, I per- shee should be 
 ceived the fingers of the young-man upon the side of the ?# close in 
 binne, and lifting up my heeles, I spumed off the flesh what^ 
 with the force of my hoofes, whereby he was compelled pened 
 to cry out, and to throw downe the binne on the ground, 
 and so the whoredome of the Bakers wife was knowne and 
 revealed. The Baker seeing this was not a little moved at 
 the dishonesty of his wife, but hee tooke the young-man 
 trembling for feare by the hand, and with cold and courteous 
 words spake in this sort : Feare not my Sonne, nor thinke 
 that I am so barbarous or cruell a person, that I would 
 stiffle thee up with the smoke of Sulphur as our neighbour 
 accustorneth, nor I will not punish thee according to the 
 rigour of the law of Julia, which commandeth the Adul- 
 terers should be put to death : No no, I will not execute my 
 cruelty against so faire and comely a young-man as you be, 
 but we will devide our pleasure betweene us, by lying all 
 three in one bed, to the end there may be no debate nor 
 dissention betweene us, but that either of us may be con- 
 tented, for I have alwayes lived with my wife in such tran- 
 quility, that according to the saying of the wise-men, what- 
 soever I say, she holdeth for law, and indeed equity will not 
 suffer, but that the husband should beare more authority 
 then the wife : with these and like words he lead the young- 
 man to his Chamber, and closed his wife in another Chamber. 
 On the next morrow, he called two of the most sturdiest 
 Servants of his house, who held up the young-man, while 
 he scourged his buttockes welfavouredly with rods like a 
 child. When he had well beaten him, he said : Art not 
 thou ashamed, thou that art so tender and delicate a child, 
 to desire the violation of honest marriages, and to defame 
 thy selfe with wicked living, whereby thou hast gotten the 
 name of an Adulterer ? After he had spoken these and like 
 2B 193
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER words, he whipped him againe, and chased him out of his 
 
 XLI house. The young-man who was the comeliest of all the 
 
 How Bar- adulterers, ran away, and did nothing else that night save 
 
 barus being one j y bewaile his striped and painted buttockes. Soone after 
 
 jealous over ,, , , r , . . r r , ,. , , . , . 
 
 his wife com- the Baker sent one to his wife, who divorced her away in his 
 
 manded that name, but she beside her owne naturall mischiefe, (offended 
 shee should be a this great contumely, though she had worthily deserved 
 e ^ the same) had recourse to wicked arts and trumpery, never 
 ^ ak hap- ceasing untill she had found out an Enchantresse, who (as 
 pened it was thought) could doe what she would with her Sorcery 
 and conjuration. The Bakers wife began to intreate her, 
 promising that she would largely recompence her, if shee 
 could bring one of these things to passe, eyther to make that 
 her husband may be reconciled to her againe, or else if hee 
 would not agree thereto, to send an ill spirit into him, to 
 dispossesse the spirit of her husband. Then the witch with 
 her abhominable science, began to conjure and to make her 
 Ceremonies, to turne the heart of the Baker to his wife, but 
 all was in vaine, wherefore considering on the one side that 
 she could not bring her purpose to passe, and on the other 
 side the losse of her gaine, she ran hastily to the Baker, 
 threatning to send an evill spirit to kill him, by meane of 
 her conjurations. But peradventure some scrupulous reader 
 may demand me a question, how I, being an Asse, and tyed 
 alwayes in the mill house, could know the secrets of these 
 women : Verily I answer, notwithstanding my shape of an 
 Asse, I had the sence and knowledge of a man, and curiously 
 endeavoured to know out such injuries as were done to my 
 master. About noone there came a woman into the Mil- 
 house, very sorrowfull, raggedly attired, with bare feete, 
 meigre, ill-favoured, and her hayre scattering upon her face : 
 This woman tooke the Baker by the hand, and faining that 
 she had some secret matter to tell him, went into a chamber, 
 where they remained a good space, till all the corne was 
 ground, when as the servants were compelled to call their 
 master to give them more corne, but when they had called 
 very often, and no person gave answer, they began to mis- 
 trust, insomuch that they brake open the doore : when they 
 were come in, they could not find the woman, but onely their 
 194
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 master hanging dead upon a rafter of the chamber, where- CHAPTER 
 upon they cryed and lamented greatly, and according to the XLI 
 custome, when they had washed themselves, they tooke the , ** ow ^ r " 
 body and buried it. The next day morrow, the daughter of je^ u S s ^ 
 the Baker, which was married but a little before to one of his wife com- 
 the next Village, came crying and beating her breast, not manded that 
 because she heard of the death of her father by any man, shee should be 
 but because his lamentable spirit, with a halter about his j^ 1 ^ close 1 
 necke appeared to her in the night, declaring the whole w h a t hap- 
 circumstance of his death, and how by inchantment he was pened 
 descended into hell, which caused her to thinke that her 
 father was dead. After that she had lamented a good 
 space, and was somewhat comforted by the servants of the 
 house, and when nine dayes were expired, as inheretrix 
 to her father, she sold away all the substance of 
 the house, whereby the goods chanced into 
 divers mens hands. 
 
 THE FORTY-SECOND CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius after the Baker was hanged, was 
 
 sold to a Gardener, and what dreadfull 
 
 things happened. 
 
 HERE was a poore Gardener amongst the 
 rest, which bought me for the summe of 
 fifty pence, which seemed to him a great 
 price, but he thought to gayne it againe 
 by the continuall travel! of my body. 
 The matter requireth to tell likewise, 
 how I was handled in his service. This 
 Gardener accustomed to drive me, every 
 morning laded with hearbes to the next Village, and when 
 he had sold his hearbes, hee would mount upon my backe 
 and returne to the Garden, and while he digged the ground 
 and watered the hearbes, and went about other businesse, I 
 did nothing but repose my selfe with great ease, but when 
 Winter approached with sharpe haile, raine and frosts, and I 
 
 li/D
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER standing under a hedge side, was welnigh killed up with 
 
 XLII cold, and my master was so poore that he had no lodging 
 
 ft W h n k US ^ or hi mse lf e > much lesse had he any littor or place to cover 
 
 was handed me w ithall, for he himselfe alwayes lay under a little roofe 
 
 was sold to a shadowed with boughes. In the morning when I arose, I 
 
 Gardener, and found my hoofes shriveled together with cold, and unable 
 
 what dreadfull j- o passe upon the sharpe ice, and frosty mire, neither could 
 
 ; s , a P~ I fill my belly with meate, as I accustomed to doe, for my 
 
 master and I supped together, and had both one fare : how- 
 
 beit it was very slender since as wee had nothing else saving 
 
 old and unsavoury sallets which were suffered to grow for 
 
 seed, like long broomes, and that had lost all their sweet 
 
 sappe and juice. 
 
 It fortuned on a day that an honest man of the next 
 village was benighted and constrained by reason of the rain 
 to lodge (very lagged and weary) in our Garden, where 
 although he was but meanely received, yet it served well 
 enough considering time and necessity. This honest man to 
 recompence our entertainment, promised to give my master 
 some corne, oyle, and two bottels of wine : wherefore my 
 master not delaying the matter, laded me with sackes and 
 bottels, and rode to the Towne which was seaven miles off. 
 
 When we came to the honest mans house, he entertained 
 and feasted my master exceedingly. And it fortuned while 
 they eate and dranke together as signe of great amity there 
 chanced a strange and dreadfull case : for there was a Hen 
 which ran kackling about the yard, as though she would have 
 layed an Egge. The good man of the house perceiving her, 
 said : O good and profitable pullet that feedest us every day 
 with thy fruit, thou seemest as though thou wouldest give us 
 some pittance for our dinner : Ho boy put the Pannier in 
 the corner that the Hen may lay. Then the boy did as his 
 master commanded, but the Hen forsaking the Pannier, came 
 toward her master and laid at his feet not an Egge, which 
 every man knoweth, but a Chickin with feathers, clawes, and 
 eyes, which incontinently ran peeping after his damme. By 
 and by happened a more strange thing, which would cause 
 any man to abhorre : under the Table where they sate, the 
 ground opened, and there appeared a great well and fountain 
 196
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 of bloud, insomuch that the drops thereof sparckled about CHAPTER 
 
 the Table. At the same time while they wondred at this XUI 
 
 dreadfull sight one of the Servants came running out of the How Apuleius 
 
 Seller, and told that all the wine was boyled out of the ^""^an^d 1 " 
 
 vessels, as though there had beene some great fire under, was sohTto a 
 
 By and by a Weasel was scene that drew into the house a Gardener, and 
 
 dead Serpent, and out of the mouth of a Shepheards dog wn| rt dreadfull 
 
 leaped a live frog, and immediately after one brought word thin ^ 8 Jj a P~ 
 
 that a Ram had strangled the same dog at one bit. All 
 
 these things that happened, astonied the good man of the 
 
 house, and the residue that were present, insomuch that they 
 
 could not tell what to doe, or with what sacrifice to appease 
 
 the anger of the gods. While every man was thus stroken 
 
 in feare, behold, one brought word to the good man of the 
 
 house, that his three sonnes who had been brought up in 
 
 good literature, and endued with good manners were dead, 
 
 for they three had great acquaintance and ancient amity with 
 
 a poore man which was their neighbour, and dwelled hard by 
 
 them : and next unto him dwelled another young man very 
 
 rich both in lands and goods, but bending from the race of 
 
 his progenies dissentions, and ruling himselfe in the towne 
 
 according to his owne will. This young royster did mortally 
 
 hate this poore man, insomuch that he would kill his sheepe, 
 
 steale his oxen, and spoyle his corne and other fruits before 
 
 the time of ripenesse, yet was he not contented with this, but 
 
 he would encroch upon the poore mans ground, and clayme 
 
 all the heritage as his owne. The poore man which was very 
 
 simple and fearefull, seeing all his goods taken away by the 
 
 avarice of the rich man, called together and assembled many 
 
 of his friends to shew them all his land, to the end he 
 
 might have but so much ground of his fathers heritage, as 
 
 might bury him. Amongst whom, he found these three 
 
 brethren, as friends to helpe and ayd him in his adversity 
 
 and tribulation. 
 
 Howbeit, the presence of these honest Citizens, could in 
 no wise perswade him to leave his extort power, no nor yet 
 to cause any temperance of his tongue, but the more they 
 went about with gentle words to tell him his faults, the more 
 would he fret and likewise fume, swearing all the oathes under 
 
 197
 
 -, 
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER God, that he little regarded the presence of the whole City, 
 
 XLII whereupon incontinently he commanded his servants to take 
 
 How Apuleius ^ e p^j-g man by ^ e e ares, and carry him out of his ground, 
 
 aftertheBaker ,. r , ., rfr j j n iu n f .1 
 
 no . A/ i which greatly oitended all the standers by. Ihen one of the 
 
 w <iH jlillli^tn* ' * B 11111 i 
 
 was sold to a brethren spake unto him somewhat boldly, saying: It is but 
 Gardener, and a folly to have such affiance in your riches, whereby you 
 what dreadfull s } lou ld use your tyranny against the poore, when as the law 
 p -, a P~ is common for all men, and a redresse may be had to 
 suppresse your insolency. These words chafed him more then 
 the burning oile, or flaming brimstone, or scourge of whipps, 
 saying : that they should be hanged and their law too, 
 before he would be subject unto any person : and there- 
 withall he called out his bandogges and great masties, which 
 accustomed to eate the carrion and carkases of dead beasts in 
 the fields, and to set upon such as passe by the way ; then he 
 commanded they should be put upon all the assistance to 
 teare them in peeces : who as soone as they heard the hisse 
 of their master, ran fiercely upon them invading them on 
 every side, insomuch that the more they flied to escape away, 
 the more cruell and terrible were the dogges. It fortuned 
 amongst all this fearefull company, that in running, the 
 youngest of the three brethren stumbled at a stone, and fell 
 down to the ground : Then the dogs came upon him and 
 tare him in peeces with their teeth, whereby he was com- 
 pelled to cry for succour : His other two brethren hearing 
 his lamentable voice ran towards him to helpe him, casting 
 their cloakes about their left armes, tooke up stones to chase 
 away the dogs, but all was in vaine, for they might see their 
 brother dismembred in every part of his body : Who lying 
 at the very point of death, desired his brethren to revenge 
 his death against that cruell tyrant : And therewithall he 
 gave up the ghost. The other two brethren perceiving so 
 great a murther, and neglecting their owne lives, like de- 
 sperate persons dressed themselves against the tyrant, and 
 threw a great number of stones at him, but the bloudy 
 theefe exercised in such and like mischiefes, tooke a speare 
 and thrust it cleane through the body : howbeit he fell not 
 downe to the ground. For the speare that came out at his 
 backe ran into the earth, and sustained him up. By and by 
 198
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 came one of these tyrants servants the most sturdiest of CHAPTER 
 the rest to helpe his master, who at the first comming tooke XLII 
 up a stone and threw at the third brother, but by reason the 2teJ t h J^^J 
 stone ran along his arme it did not hurt him, which chanced was hanged, 
 otherwise then all mens expectation was : by and by the was sold to a 
 young man feigning that his arme was greatly wounded, Gardener, and 
 spake these words unto the cruell bloud sucker : Now maist w hatdreadfl 
 thou, thou wretch, triumph upon the destruction of all our "^jned 
 family, now hast thou fed thy insatiable cruelty with the 
 bloud of three brethren, now maist thou rejoyce at the fall 
 of us Citizens, yet thinke not but that how farre thou dost 
 remove and extend the bounds of thy land, thou shalt have 
 some neighbor, but how greatly am I sorry in that I have 
 lost mine arme wherewithall I minded to cut off thy head. 
 When he had spoken these words, the furious theefe drew 
 out his dagger, and running upon the young man thought 
 verily to have slaine him, but it chanced otherwise : For the 
 young man resisted him stoutly, and in buckling together 
 by violence wrested the dagger out of his hand : which done, 
 he killed the rich theefe with his owne weapon, and to the 
 intent the young man would escape the hands of the servants 
 which came running to assist their master, with the same 
 dagger he cut his owne throat. These things were signified 
 by the strange and dreadfull wonders which fortuned in the 
 house of the good man, who after he had heard these sor- 
 rowfull tydings could in no wise weepe, so farre was he 
 stroken with dolour, but presently taking his knife where- 
 with he cut his cheese and other meate before, he cut 
 his owne throat likewise, in such sort that he fell upon 
 the bord and imbraced the table with the streames of his 
 bloud, in most miserable manner. Hereby was my master 
 the Gardener deprived of his hope, and paying for 
 his dinner the watry teares of his eyes, mounted 
 upon my backe and so we went homeward 
 the same way as wee came. 
 
 199
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 THE FORTY-THIRD CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was found by his shadow. 
 
 S wee passed by the way wee met with a 
 tall souldier (for so his habite and counte- 
 nance declared) who with proud and arro- 
 gant words spake to my master in this 
 sort: Quorsum vacuum ducis Asinum? My 
 master somewhat astonied at the strange 
 sights which he saw before, and ignorant 
 of the Latine tongue, roade on and spake 
 never a word : The souldier unable to refraine his insolence, 
 and offended at his silence, strake him on the shoulders as he 
 sate on my backe ; then my master gently made answer that 
 he understood not what he said, whereat the souldier angerly 
 demanded againe, whether he roade with his Asse ? Marry 
 (quoth he) to the next City : But I (quoth the souldier) have 
 need of his helpe, to carry the trusses of our Captaine from 
 yonder Castle, and therewithall he tooke me by the halter and 
 would violently have taken me away : but my master wiping 
 away the blood of the blow which he received of the souldier, 
 desired him gently and civilly to take some pitty upon him, 
 and to let him depart with his owne, swearing and affirming 
 that his slow Asse, welnigh dead with sicknesse, could scarce 
 carry a few handfuls of hearbs to the next towne, much lesse 
 he was able to beare any greater trusses : but when he saw 
 the souldier would in no wise be intreated, but ready with his 
 staffe to cleave my masters head, my master fell down at his 
 feete, under colour to move him to some pitty, but when he 
 saw his time, he tooke the souldier by the legs and cast him 
 upon the ground: Then he buffetted him, thumped him, bit 
 him, and tooke a stone and beat his face and his sides, that he 
 could not turne and defend himselfe, but onely threaten that 
 if ever he rose, he would choppe him in pieces. The Gardener 
 when he heard him say so, drew out his javelin which hee 
 had by his side, and when he had throwne it away, he knockt 
 200
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 and beate him more cruelly then he did before, insomuch that CHAPTER 
 the souldier could not tell by what meanes to save himselfe, XLIII 
 but by feining that he was dead. Then my master tooke the How Apuleius 
 javelin and mounted upon my backe, riding in all hast to w j s ^adow 
 the next village, having no regard to goe to his Garden, and 
 when he came thither, he turned into one of his friends house 
 and declared all the whole matter, desiring him to save his 
 life and to hide himselfe and his Asse in some secret place, 
 untill such time as all danger were past. Then his friends 
 not forgetting the ancient amity betweene them, entertained 
 him willingly and drew me up a paire of staires into a 
 chamber, my master crept into a chest, and lay there with 
 the cover closed fast : The souldier (as I afterwards learned) 
 rose up as one awaked from a drunken sleepe, but he could 
 scarce goe by reason of his wounds : howbeit at length by 
 little and little through ayd of his staffe he came to the 
 towne, but hee would not declare the matter to any person 
 nor complaine to any justice, lest he should be accused of 
 cowardise or dastardnesse, yet in the end he told some of his 
 companions of all the matter that happened: then they tooke 
 him and caused him to be closed in some secret place, think- 
 ing that beside the injury which he had received, he should 
 be accused of the breach of his faith, by reason of the losse 
 of his speare, and when they had learned the signes of my 
 master, they went to search him out : at last there was an 
 unfaithfull neighbour that told them where he was, then 
 incontinently the souldiers went to the Justice declaring that 
 they had lost by the way a silver goblet of their Captaines, 
 and that a Gardener had found it, who refusing to deliver 
 the goblet, was hidden in one of his friends houses : by and 
 by the Magistrates understanding the losse of the Captaine, 
 came to the doores where we were, commanded our host to 
 deliver my master upon paine of death : howbeit these threat- 
 nings could not enforce him to confesse that he was within 
 his doores, but by reason of his faithfull promise and for 
 the safeguard of his friend, he said, that hee saw not 
 the Gardener a great while, neither knew where he was : the 
 souldiers said contrary, whereby to know the verity of the 
 matter, the Magistrates commanded their Seargants and 
 2 C 201
 
 THE NINTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER ministers to search every corner of the house, but when they 
 XLIII could find neither Gardener nor Asse, there was a great 
 H s W f^und ei b S con t en tion betweene the souldiers and our Host, for they 
 his shadow sa j^ we were within the house : and he said no, but I that 
 was very curious to know the matter, when I heard so great 
 a noyse, put my head out of the window to learne what the 
 stirre and tumult did signifie. It fortuned that one of the 
 souldiers perceived my shadow, whereupon he began to cry, 
 saying : that hee had certainly seene me ; then they were all 
 glad and came up into the chamber, and pulled me downe 
 like a prisoner. When they had found mee, they doubted 
 nothing of the Gardener, but seeking about more narrowly, 
 at length they found him couched in a chest. And so they 
 brought out the poore gardener to the Justices, who was com- 
 mitted immediately to prison, but they could never for- 
 beare laughing from the time they found me by my 
 shadow, wherefore is risen a common Proverbe : 
 * The shadow of the Asse.' 
 
 202
 
 THE 
 
 TENTH BOOKE 
 
 of LUCIUS APULEIUS of 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 THE FORTY-FOURTH CHAPTER 
 
 How the souldier drave Apuleius away, and how 
 
 he came to a Captaines house, and what 
 
 happened there. 
 
 HE next day how my master the Gardener 
 sped, I knew not, but the gentle souldier, 
 who was well beaten for his cowardise, 
 lead me to his lodging without the con- 
 tradiction of any man : Where hee laded 
 me well, and garnished my body (as seemed 
 to me) like an Asse of armes. For on the 
 one side I bare an helmet that shined 
 exceedingly : On the other side a Target that glistered more 
 a thousand folde. And on the top of my burthen he put 
 a long speare, which things he placed thus gallantly, not 
 because he was so expert in warre (for the Gardener proved 
 the contrary) but to the end he might feare those which 
 passed by, when they saw such a similitude of warre. When 
 we had gone a good part of our journey, over the plaine and 
 easie fields, we fortuned to come to a little towne, where we 
 lodged at a certaine Captaines house. And there the souldier 
 tooke me to one of the servants, while he himselfe went to- 
 wards his captaine ; who had the charge of a thousand men. 
 And when we had remained there a few dayes, I understood 
 of a wicked and mischievous fact committed there, which I 
 have put in writing to the end you may know the same. 
 
 205
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER The master of the house had a soiine instructed in good liter- 
 
 XLIV ature, and endued with vertuous manners, such a one as you 
 
 H w tjhe would desire to have the like. Long time before his mother 
 
 Ai?nipf, v 6 dyed, and when his father married a new wife, and had 
 
 Apuieiusawaj, '77 i ,* ,r /. mi j 
 
 and how he another child of the age of xn. yeares. The stepdame was 
 came to a Cap- more excellent in beauty then honesty : for she loved this 
 taines house, young man her sonne in law, either because she was unchast 
 
 and what hap- < na ture, or because she was enforced by fate of stepmother, 
 pened there , J .' . , . ~ ^ ./ 
 
 to commit so great a mischiefe. Gentle reader, thou shalt 
 
 not read of a fable, but rather a tragedy : This woman when 
 her love began first to kindle in her heart, could easily resist 
 her desire and inordinate appetite by reason of shame and 
 feare, lest her intent should be knowne : But after it com- 
 passed and burned every part of her brest, she was compelled 
 to yeeld unto the raging flame of Cupid, and under colour 
 of the disease and infirmity of her body, to conceale the wound 
 of her restlesse mind. Every man knoweth well the signes 
 and tokens of love, and the malady convenient to the same : 
 Her countenance was pale, her eyes sorrowfull, her knees 
 weake, and there was no comfort in her, but continuall weep- 
 ing and sobbing, insomuch that you would have thought that 
 she had some spice of an ague, saving that she wept im- 
 measurably : the Phisitians knew not her disease, when they 
 felt the beating of her veines, the intemperance of her heart, 
 the sobbing sighes, and her often tossing of every side : No, 
 no, the cunning Phisitian knew it not, but a scholler of Venus 
 Court might easily conjecture the whole. After that she had 
 beene long time tormented in her affliction, and was no more 
 able to conceale her ardent desire, shee caused her sonne to 
 be called for, (which word son she would faine put away if it 
 were not for shame :) Then he nothing disobedient to the 
 commandement of his mother, with a sad and modest counte- 
 nance, came into the chamber of his stepdame, the mother of 
 his brother, but she speaking never a word was in great doubt 
 what she might doe, and could not tell what to say first, by 
 reason of shame. The young man suspecting no ill, with 
 humble courtesie demanded the cause of her present disease. 
 Then she having found an occasion to utter her intent, with 
 weeping eyes and covered face, began boldly to speake unto 
 206
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 him in this manner: Thou, thou, art the originall cause of all CHAPTER 
 
 my dolour : Thou art my comfort and onely health, for those XLIV 
 
 thy comely eyes are so enfastned within my brest, that unlesse How the 
 
 they succour me, I shall certainly die : Have pitty therefore eh 
 upon me, be not the occasion of my destruction, neither let an d how he 
 my conscience reclaime to offend thy father, when as thou came to a Cap- 
 shalt save the life of thy mother. Moreover since thou dost t*" 1168 house, 
 
 resemble thy fathers shape in every point, it giveth me cause and w at ha P~ 
 the more to fancy thee : Now is ministred unto thee time pM 
 and place : Now hast thou occasion to worke thy will, seeing 
 that we are alone. And it is a common saying : 
 
 Never knowne, never done. 
 
 This young man troubled in mind at so suddaine an ill, 
 although hee abhorred to commit so beastly a crime, yet hee 
 would not cast her off with a present deniall, but warily 
 pacified her mind with delay of promise. Wherefore he 
 promised to doe all according to her desire : And in the 
 meane season, he willed his mother to be of good cheere, and 
 comfort her selfe till as he might find some convenient time 
 to come unto her, when his father was ridden forth : Where- 
 withall hee got him away from the pestilent sight of his 
 stepdame. And knowing that this matter touching the 
 ruine of all the whole house needed the counsell of wise and 
 grave persons, he went incontinently to a sage old man and 
 declared the whole circumstance of the matter. The old 
 man after long deliberation, thought there was no better way 
 to avoyd the storme of cruell fortune to come, then to run 
 away. In the meane season this wicked woman impatient 
 of her love, and the long delay of her sonne, egged her hus- 
 band to ride abroad into farre countreyes. And then she 
 asked the young-man the accomplishment of his promise, 
 but he to rid himselfe entirely from her hands, would find 
 alwayes excuses, till in the end she understood by the 
 messengers that came in and out, that he nothing regarded 
 her. Then she by how much she loved him before, by so 
 much and more she hated him now. And by and by she 
 called one of her servants, ready to all mischiefes : To whom 
 she declared all her secrets. And there it was concluded 
 
 207
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER betweene them two, that the surest way was to kill the 
 XLIV young man : Whereupon this varlet went incontinently to 
 
 How the k u y p y son which he mingled with wine, to the intent he 
 souldier drave J ^ J > . , u . j i 
 
 Apuleiusaway, wou ^" g lve ^ * * y oun g man * drinke, and thereby pre- 
 and how he sently to kill him. But while they were in deliberation how 
 came to a Cap- they might offer it unto him, behold here happened a strange 
 taines house, adventure. For the young sonne of the woman that came 
 from scnoole at noone (being very thirsty) tooke the pot 
 wherein the poyson was mingled, and ignorant of the venim, 
 dranke a good draught thereof, which was prepared to kill 
 his brother : whereby he presently fell downe to the ground 
 dead. His schoole-master seeing his suddaine chance, called 
 his mother, and all the servants of the house with a lowd 
 voyce. Incontinently every man declared his opinion, touch- 
 ing the death of the child : but the cruell woman the onely 
 example of stepmothers malice, was nothing moved by the 
 bitter death of her sonne, or by her owne conscience of 
 paracide, or by the misfortune of her house, or by the dolour 
 of her husband, but rather devised the destruction of all her 
 family. For by and by shee sent a messenger after her 
 husband to tell him the great misfortune which happened 
 after his departure. And when he came home, the wicked 
 woman declared that his sonne had empoysoned his brother, 
 because he would not consent to his will, and told him divers 
 other leasings, adding in the end that hee threatned to kill 
 her likewise, because she discovered the fact : Then the un- 
 happy father was stroken with double dolour of the death of 
 his two children, for on the one side he saw his younger 
 sonne slaine before his eyes, on the other side, he seemed to 
 see the elder condemned to dye for his offence : Againe, where 
 he beheld his wife lament in such sort, it gave him further 
 occasion to hate his sonne more deadly; but the funerals of 
 his younger sonne were scarce finished, when the old man the 
 father with weeping eyes even at the returne from the grave, 
 went to the Justice and accused his sonne of the slaughter of 
 his brother, and how he threatned to slay his wife, whereby 
 the rather at his weeping and lamentation, he mooved all the 
 Magistrates and people to pitty, insomuch that without any 
 delay, or further inquisition they cryed all that hee should 
 208
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 be stoned to death, but the Justices fearing a farther incon- CHAPTER 
 venience to arise by the particular vengeance, and to the end XLIV 
 there might fortune no sedition amongst the people, prayed How the 
 the decurions and other Officers of the City, that they might Apufefusaway 6 
 proceed by examination of witnesses, and with order of a nd how^he 
 justice according to the ancient custome before the judging came to a Cap- 
 of any hasty sentence or judgement, without the hearing of taines house 
 the contrary part, like as the barbarous and cruell tyrants and ^ 
 accustome to use : otherwise they should give an ill example 
 to their successours. This opinion pleased every man, where- 
 fore the Senatours and counsellers were called, who being 
 placed in order according to their dignity, caused the accuser 
 and defender to be brought forth, and by the example of the 
 Athenian law, and judgement materiall, their Advocates were 
 commanded to plead their causes briefly without preambles or 
 motions of the people to pitty, which were too long a pro- 
 cesse. And if you demand how I understood all this matter, 
 you shall understand that I heard many declare the same, 
 but to recite what words the accuser used in his invective, 
 what answer the defender made, the orations and pleadings 
 of each party, verily I am not able to doe : for I was fast 
 bound at the manger. But as I learned and knew by others, 
 I will God willing declare unto you. So it was ordered, that 
 after the pleadings of both sides was ended, they thought 
 best to try and boult out the verity by witnesses, all pre- 
 sumptions and likelihood set apart, ana to call in the ser- 
 vant, who onely was reported to know all the matter : by and 
 by the servant came in, who nothing abashed, at the feare 
 of so great a judgement, or at the presence of the Judges, 
 or at his owne guilty conscience, which hee so finely fained, 
 but with a bold countenance presented himselfe before the 
 Justices and confirmed the accusation against the young 
 man, saying : O yee judges, on a day when this young man 
 loathed and hated his stepmother, hee called mee, desiring 
 mee to poyson his brother, whereby hee might revenge him- 
 selfe, and if I would doe it and keepe the matter secret, hee 
 promised to give me a good reward for my paines : but when 
 the young man perceived that I would not accord to his will, 
 he threatned to slay mee, whereupon hee went himselfe and 
 2D 209
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER bought poyson, and after tempered it with wine, and then 
 
 XLIV g a ve it me to give the child, which when I refused he 
 
 *M^ !^ e ff ere d it to his brother with his own hands. When the 
 
 Apuleiusaway 6 vai> l e t w ^h a trembling countenance had ended these words 
 
 and how he which seemed a likelihood of truth, the judgement was 
 
 came to a Cap- ended : neither was there found any judge or counseller, so 
 
 ta ^ es house, niercifull to the young man accused, as would not judge him 
 
 D W d & th ^ cu lp a ble, but that he should be put and sowne in a skin, 
 
 with a dogge, a Cocke, a Snake, and an Ape, according to 
 
 the law against parricides : wherefore they wanted nothing 
 
 but (as the ancient custome was) to put white stones and 
 
 black into a pot, and to take them out againe, to see whether 
 
 the young-man accused should be acquitted by judgment or 
 
 condemned, which was a thing irrevocable. 
 
 In the mean season he was delivered to the hands of the 
 executioner. But there arose a sage and ancient Physitian, a 
 man of a good conscience and credit throughout all the City, 
 that stopped the mouth of the pot wherein the stones were 
 cast, saying : I am right glad ye reverend Judges, that I am 
 a man of name and estimation amongst you, whereby I am 
 accompted such a one as will not suffer any person to be put 
 to death by false and untrue accusations, considering there 
 hath bin no homicide or murther committed by this yong man 
 in this case, neither you (being sworn to judge uprightly) to 
 be misinformed and abused by invented lyes and tales. For 
 I cannot but declare and open my conscience, least I should 
 be found to beare small honour and faith to the Gods, 
 wherefore I pray you give eare, and I will shew you the 
 whole truth of the matter. You shall understand that this 
 servant which hath merited to be hanged, came one of these 
 dayes to speake with me, promising to give me a hundred 
 crownes, if I would give him present poyson, which would 
 cause a man to dye suddenly, saying, that he would have it 
 for one that was sicke of an incurable disease, to the end he 
 might be delivered from all torment, but I smelling his 
 crafty and subtill fetch, and fearing least he would worke 
 some mischiefs withall, gave him a drinke : but to the intent 
 I might cleare my selfe from all danger that might happen, 
 I would not presently take the money which he offered. 
 210
 
 But least any of the crownes should lacke weight or be found CHAPTER 
 counterfeit, I willed him to scale the purse wherein they were XLIV 
 put, with his manuell signe, whereby the next day we might How the 
 goe together to the Goldsmith to try them, which he did ; JJjJ? 
 wherefore understanding that he was brought present before and "ho"* Ye 
 you this day, I hastily commanded one of my servants to came to a Cap- 
 fetch the purse which he had sealed, and here I bring it t^nes house, 
 unto you to see whether he will deny his owne signe or no : and *J at h * n ' 
 and you may easily conject that his words are untrue, which per 
 he alleadged against the young man, touching the buying of 
 the poyson, considering hee bought the poyson himselfe. 
 When the Physitian had spoken these words you might per- 
 ceive how the trayterous knave changed his colour, how hee 
 sweat for feare, how he trembled in every part of his body : 
 and how he set one leg upon another, scratching his head and 
 grinding his teeth, whereby there was no person but would 
 judge him culpable. In the end, when he was somewhat 
 returned to his former subtilty, he began to deny all that 
 was said, and stoutly affirmed, that the Physitian did lye. 
 But the Physitian perceiving that he was rayled at and his 
 words denyed, did never cease to confirme his sayings, and to 
 disprove the varlet, till such time as the Officers by the com- 
 mandement of the Judges, bound his hands and brought out 
 the seale, wherewith he had sealed the purse, which augmented 
 suspition which was conceived of him first. Howbeit, neither 
 the feare of the wheele or any other torment according to 
 the use of the Grecians, which were ready prepared, no, nor 
 yet the fire could enforce him to confesse the matter, so 
 obstinate and grounded was he in his mischievous mind. 
 But the Physitian perceiving that the menaces of these tor- 
 ments did nothing prevaile, gan say: I cannot suffer or abide 
 that this young man who is innocent, should against all law 
 and conscience, be punished and condemned to die, and the 
 other which is culpable, should escape so easily, and after 
 mocke and flowte at your judgement : for I will give you an 
 evident proofs and argument of this present crime. You 
 shall understand, that when this caytifFe demanded of me a 
 present and strong poyson, considering that it was not my 
 part to give occasion of any others death, but rather to cure
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER and save sicke persons by meane of medicines: and on the 
 XLIV other side, fearing least if I should deny his request, I might 
 uld^ d m i ms ter a further cause of his mischiefe, either that he 
 Apuleiusaway, wou ld buy poyson of some other, or else returne and worke 
 and how he his wicked intent, with a sword or some dangerous weapon, I 
 came to a Cap- gave him no poyson, but a doling drinke of Mandragora, 
 ames house, which j s o f such force, that it will cause any man to sleepe as 
 pened^here" though he were dead. Neither is it any marvaile if this most 
 desperate man, who is certainly assured to be put to death, 
 ordained by an ancient custome, can suffer and abide these 
 facill and easie torments, but if it be so that the child hath 
 received the drinke as I tempered it with mine owne hands, 
 he is yet alive and doth but sleepe, and after his sleepe he 
 shall returne to life againe, but if he be dead indeed, then 
 may you further enquire of the causes of his death. The 
 opinion of this ancient Physitian was found good, and every 
 man had a desire to goe to the Sepulchre where the child 
 was layd ; there was none of the Justices, none of any reputa- 
 tion of the towne, nor any of the common people, but went 
 to see this strange sight. Amongst them all the father of 
 the child remooved with his owne hands the stone of the 
 Sepulchre, and found his Sonne rising up after his dead and 
 soporiferous sleepe, whom when he beheld, he imbraced him 
 in his armes, and presented him before the people, with great 
 joy and consolation, and as he was wrapped and bound in his 
 grave, so he brought him before the Judges, whereupon the 
 wickednesse of the Servant, and the rest of the Servant, and 
 the treason of the stepdame was plainely discovered, and the 
 verity of the matter revealed, whereby the woman was per- 
 petually exiled, the Servant hanged on a Gallowes, and the 
 Physitian had the Crownes, which was prepared to buy the 
 poyson. Behold how the fortune of the old man was changed, 
 who thinking to be deprived of all his race and posterity, 
 was in one moment made the Father of two Children. 
 But as for me, I was ruled and handled by for- 
 tune, according to her pleasure. 
 
 212
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE FORTY-FIFTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius was sold to two brethren, whereof 
 
 one was a Baker, and the other a Cooke, and 
 
 how finely and daintily he fared. 
 
 HE Souldier that payed never a peny for 
 me, by the commandement of his Captaine, 
 was sent unto Rome, to cary Letters to 
 the great Prince, and Generall of the 
 Campe. Before he went, he sold me for 
 eleven pence to two of his Companions, 
 being Servants to a man of worship, 
 whereof one was a Baker that baked 
 sweet bread and delicates, the other a Cooke, which dressed 
 fine and excellent meats for his Master. These two lived in 
 common, and would drive me from place to place, to carry 
 such things as was necessary, insomuch that I was received 
 by these two, as a third Brother, and Companion, and I 
 thought I was never better placed, then with them : for when 
 night came that Supper was done, and their businesse ended, 
 they would bring many good morsels into their Chamber for 
 themselves. One would bring Pigs, Chickens, fish, and other 
 good meates, the other fine bread, pasties, tarts, custards and 
 other delicate Junkets dipped in hony. And when they had 
 shut their chamber doore, and went to the bains : (O Lord) 
 how I would fill my guts with these goodly dishes : neither 
 was I so much a foole, or so very an Asse, to leave the 
 dainty meats, and to grind my teeth upon hard hay. In this 
 sort I continued a great space, for I played the honest Asse, 
 taking but a little of one dish, and a little of another, 
 wherby no man distrusted me. In the end, I was more 
 hardier and began to devoure the whole messes of the sweet 
 delicates, which caused the Baker and the Cooke to suspect, 
 howbeit they nothing mistrusted me, but searched about to 
 apprehend the theefe. At length they began to accuse one 
 another of theft, and to set the dishes and morsels of meat in 
 
 213
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER order, one by another, because they would learne what was 
 XLV taken away, whereby one of them was compelled to say thus 
 HowApulems j. Q ^ s f e i} ow : i s it reason to breake promise and faith in 
 two brethren ^ n ^ s sor ^' % stealing away the best meat, and to sell it to 
 whereof one augment thy good, and yet neverthelesse to have thy part in 
 was a Baker, the residue that is left : if our partnership doe mislike thee, 
 and the other we w {\\ ]g e partners and brothers in other things, but in 
 
 howfinS* and tnis we wil1 breake off : for I perceive that the great losse 
 daintily he which I sustain, will at length be a cause of great discord 
 fared betweene us. Then answered the other, Verily I praise thy 
 great constancy and subtilnesse, in that (when thou hast 
 secretly taken away the meat) [thou] dost begin to complaine 
 first, whereas I by long space of time have suffered thee, be- 
 cause I would not seeme to accuse my brother of theft, but I 
 am right glad in that wee are fallen into communication of 
 the matter, least by our silence, like contention might arise 
 betweene us, as fortuned betweene Eteocles and his Brother. 
 When they had reasoned together in this sort, they swore 
 both earnestly, that neither of them stale or tooke away any 
 jote of the meate, wherefore they concluded to search out 
 the Theefe by all kind of meanes. For they could not 
 imagin or thinke, the Asse who stood alone there, would 
 eate any such meates, neither could they thinke that Mice or 
 Flyes, were so ravenous, as to devouer whole dishes of meat, 
 like the Birds Harpies which carried away the meates of 
 Phineus the King of Archadia. In the meane season while 
 I was fed with dainty morsels, I gathered together my flesh, 
 my skin waxed soft, my haire began to shine, and was gallant 
 on every part, but such faire and comely shape of my body, 
 was cause of my dishonour, for the Baker and Cooke mar- 
 velled to see me so slick and fine, considering I did eate no 
 hay at all. Wherefore on a time at their accustomed houre, 
 they went to the baines, and locked their chamber doore. 
 It fortuned that ere they departed away, they espyed me 
 through a hole, how I fell roundly to my victuals : then they 
 marvelled greatly, and little esteemed the losse of their meate, 
 laughed exceedingly, calling the servants of the house, to 
 shew them the greedy gorge and appetite of the Asse. Their 
 laughing was so immoderate that the master of the house
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 heard them, and demanded the cause of their laughter, and CHAPTER 
 when hee understood all the matter, hee looked through the XLV 
 hole likewise, wherewith hee tooke such a delectation that hee HowApuleius 
 commanded the doore to be opened, that hee might see mee ^jj brethren* 
 at his pleasure. Then I perceiving every man laugh, was whereof one 
 nothing abashed, but rather more bold, whereby I never was a Baker, 
 rested eating, till such time as the master of the house com- an( ^ ^ e other 
 manded me to be brought into his parler as a novelty, and f Cooke > an 
 there caused all kinds of meates which were never touched to daintily he 
 be set on the table, which (although I had eaten sufficiently fared 
 before, yet to win the further favour of the master of the 
 house) I did greedily devoure and made a cleane riddance of 
 all the delicate meates. And to prove my nature wholly, 
 they gave mee such meates as every Asse doth abhorre : for 
 they put before mee beefe and vineger, birds and pepper, 
 fish and verjuice: in the meane season they that beheld 
 mee at the table did nothing but laugh. Then one of 
 the servants of the house sayd to his master, I pray 
 you sir give him some drinke to his supper : Marry 
 (quoth hee) I thinke thou saist true, for it may be, that 
 to his meate hee would drinke likewise a cup of wine. 
 Hoe boy, wash yonder pot, and fill it with wine, which 
 done, carry it to the Asse, and say that I have drunke to 
 him. Then all the standers by looked on, to see what 
 would come to passe : but I (as soone as I beheld the cup) 
 staied not long, but gathering my lips together, supped up 
 all the wine at one draught. The master being right joy- 
 full hereat caused the Baker and Cooke which had bought 
 me, to come before him, to whom he delivered foure times 
 as much for me, as they paid, which done he commited me 
 to one of his rich Libertines, and charged him to looke well 
 to me, and that I should lacke nothing, who obeied his 
 masters commandement in every point : and to the end he 
 would creepe further into his favour, he taught me a thou- 
 sand qualities. First he instructed me to sit at the table 
 upon my taile, and how I should leape and dance, holding 
 up my former feete : moreover hee taught me how I should 
 answer when any body spake unto me, with nodding my head, 
 which was a strange and marvailous thing, and if I did lacke 
 
 215
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER drinke, I should looke still upon the pot. All which things 
 
 XLV I did willingly bring to passe, and obeyed his doctrine : 
 
 lowApuleius now beit, I could have done all these things without his 
 
 two brethren teaching, but I feared greatly lest in shewing my selfe 
 
 whereof one cunning without a master, I should pretend some great and 
 
 was a Baker, strange wonder, and thereby be throwne out to wild beasts. 
 
 and the other gy^ m y f ame was S pred about in every place, and the 
 
 a k*|pke, ^^ qualities which I could doe, insomuch that my master was 
 
 daintily he renowned throughout all the Country by reason of mee. For 
 
 fared every man would say : Behold the Gentleman that hath an 
 
 Asse, that will eate and drinke with him, that will dance, 
 
 and understand what is said to him, will shew his fantasie 
 
 by signes. But first I will tell you (which I should have 
 
 done before) who my master was, and of what country. His 
 
 name was Thiasus, hee was borne at Corinth, which is a 
 
 principall towne of Achaia, and he had passed many offices 
 
 of honor, till hee had taken upon him the degree Quin- 
 
 quenuall, according as his birth and dignity required, who 
 
 to shew his worthinesse, and to purchase the benevolence 
 
 of every person, appointed publike joyes and triumphs, 
 
 to endure the space of three dayes, and to bring 
 
 his endeavour to passe, he came into Thessaly 
 
 to buy excellent Beasts, and valiant 
 
 fighters for the purpose. 
 
 216
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE FORTY-SIXTH CHAPTER 
 
 How a certaine Matron fell in love with Apuleius, 
 
 how hee had his pleasure with her, and what 
 
 other things happened. 
 
 HEN he had bought such things as was 
 necessary, he would not returne home in- 
 to his Countrey in Chariots, or waggon, 
 neither would he ride upon Thessalian 
 Horses, or Jenets of France, or Spanish 
 Mules, which be most excellent as can be 
 found, but caused me to be garnished and 
 trimmed with trappers and barbs of Gold, 
 with brave harnesse, with purple coverings, with a bridle of 
 silver, with pictured cloths, and with shrilling bells, and in 
 this manner he rode upon me lovingly, speaking and intreat- 
 ing me with gentle words, but above all things he did greatly 
 rejoyce in that I was his Servant to beare him upon my 
 backe, and his Companion to feed with him at the Table : 
 After long time when we had travelled as well by Sea as 
 Land, and fortuned to arive at Corinth, the people of the 
 Towne came about us on every side, not so much to doe 
 honour to Thiasus, as to see me : For my fame was so greatly 
 spread there, that I gained my master much money, and 
 when the people was desirous to see me play prankes, they 
 caused the Gates to be shut, and such as entered in should 
 pay money, by meanes whereof I was a profitable companion 
 to them every day : There fortuned to be amongst the 
 Assembly a noble and rich Matron that conceived much 
 delight to behold me, and could find no remedy to her 
 passions and disordinate appetite, but continually desired to 
 have her pleasure with me, as Pasiphae had with a Bull. In 
 the end she promised a great reward to my keeper for the 
 custody of me one night, who for gaine of a little money 
 accorded to her desire, and when I had supped in a Parler 
 with my Master, we departed away and went into our 
 8E ' 217
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER Chamber, where we found the faire Matron, who had tarried 
 
 XLVI a great space for our comming : I am not able to recite unto 
 
 How a cer- y OU h ow g]\ things were prepared : there were foure Eunuches 
 
 fell* 6 inlove that la ^ on a bed of ^owne on the ground with Boulsters 
 withApuleius, accordingly for us to lye on, the Coverlet was of cloth of 
 etc. Gold, and the pillowes soft and tender, whereon the delicate 
 Matron had accustomed to lay her head. Then the Eunuches 
 not minding to delay any longer the pleasure of their 
 Mistresse, closed the doores of the Chamber and departed 
 away : within the Chamber were Lamps that gave a cleare 
 light all the place over : Then she put off all her Garments 
 to her naked skinne, and taking the Lampe that stood next 
 to her, began to annoint all her body with balme, and mine 
 likewise, but especially my nose, which done, she kissed me, 
 not as they accustome to doe at the stewes, or in brothell 
 houses, or in the Curtiant Schooles for gaine of money, but 
 purely, sincerely, and with great affection, casting out these 
 and like loving words : Thou art he whom I love, thou art 
 he whom I onely desire, without thee I cannot live, and other 
 like preamble of talke as women can use well enough, when 
 as they mind to shew or declare their burning passions and 
 great affection of love : Then she tooke me by the halter 
 and cast me downe upon the bed, which was nothing strange 
 unto me, considering that she was so beautifull a Matron 
 and I so wel boldened out with wine, and perfumed with 
 balme, whereby I was readily prepared for the purpose : 
 But nothing grieved me so much as to think, how I should 
 with my huge and great legs imbrace so faire a Matron, 
 or how I should touch her fine, dainty, and silken skinne, 
 with my hard hoofes, or how it was possible to kisse her soft, 
 pretty and ruddy lips, with my monstrous mouth and stony 
 teeth, or how she, who was young and tender, could be able 
 to receive me. 
 
 And I verily thought, if I should hurt the woman by any 
 kind of meane, I should be throwne to the wild Beasts : But 
 in the meane season she kissed me, and looked in my mouth 
 with burning eyes, saying : I hold thee my cunny, I hold 
 thee my nops, my sparrow, and therewithall she eftsoones 
 imbraced my body round about, and had her pleasure with 
 218
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 me, whereby I thought the mother of Minotarus did not CHAPTER 
 causelesse quench her inordinate desire with a Bull. When XLVI 
 night was passed, with much joy and small sleepe, the Matron How a cer ~ 
 went before day to my keeper, to bargaine with him another fgjj 16 a r ron 
 night, which he willingly granted, partly for gaine of money, withApuleius, 
 and partly to finde new pastime for my master. Who after etc. 
 he was informed of all the history of my luxury, was right 
 glad, and rewarded my keeper well for his paine, minding to 
 shew before the face of all the people, what I could doe : 
 but because they would not suffer the Matron to abide such 
 shame, by reason of her dignity, and because they could finde 
 no other that would endeavour so great a reproach, at length 
 they obtained for money a poore woman, which was con- 
 demned to be eaten of wilde beasts, with whom I should 
 openly have to doe : But first I will tell you what tale I 
 heard concerning this woman. This woman had a husband, 
 whose father minding to ride foorth, commanded his wife 
 which he left at home great with child, that if she were 
 delivered of a daughter, it should incontinently be killed. 
 When the time of her delivery came, it fortuned that she 
 had a daughter, whom she would not suffer to be slaine, by 
 reason of the naturall affection which she bare unto her 
 child, but secretly committed her to one of her neighbours 
 to nurse. And when her husband returned home, shee 
 declared unto him that shee was delivered of a daughter, 
 whom (as hee commanded,) shee had caused to be put to 
 death. But when this child came to age, and ready to be 
 married, the mother knew not by what meanes shee should 
 endow her daughter, but that her husband should understand 
 and perceive it. Wherefore shee discovered the matter to 
 her sonne, who was the husband of this woman, condemned 
 to be eaten of wild beasts : For shee greatly feared least 
 hee should unawares fancie or fall in love with his owne 
 sister. The young man understanding the whole matter (to 
 please and gratifie his mother) went immediately to the 
 young mayden, keeping the matter secret in his heart, for 
 feare of inconveniency, and (lamenting to see his sister for- 
 saken both of mother and father) incontinently after endowed 
 her with part of his owne goods, and would have married her 
 
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 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER to one of his especiall and trusty friends : But although hee 
 XLVI brought this to passe very secretly and sagely, yet in the end 
 . ovv * cer " cruell fortune sowed great sedition in his house. For his wife 
 fell in love w ^ was now condemned to beasts, waxed jealous of her 
 withApuleius, husband and began to suspect the young woman as a harlot 
 etc. and common queane, insomuch that shee invented all manner 
 of meanes to dispatch her out of the way. And in the end 
 shee invented this kind of mischiefe : She privily stale away 
 her husbands ring, and went into the country, whereas she 
 commanded one of her trusty servants to take the ring and 
 carry it to the mayden. To whom he should declare that 
 her brother did pray her to come into the country to him, 
 and that she should come alone without any person. And 
 to the end shee should not delay but come with all speed 
 he should deliver her the ring, which should be a sufficient 
 testimony of the message. This mayden as soone as she 
 had received the ring of her brother, being very willing and 
 desirous to obey his commandement : (For she knew no 
 otherwise but that he had sent for her) went in all hast as 
 the messenger willed her to doe. But when she was come 
 to the snare and engine which was prepared for her, the 
 mischievous woman, like one that were mad, and possessed 
 with some ill spirit, when the poore maiden called for helpe 
 with a loud voyce to her brother, the wicked harlot (weening 
 that she had invented and feined the matter) tooke a burn- 
 ing firebrand and thrust it into her secret place, whereby 
 she died miserably. The husband of this maiden but especi- 
 ally her brother, advertised of her death, came to the place 
 where she was slain, and after great lamentation and weeping, 
 they caused her to be buried honourably. This yong man 
 her brother taking in ill part the miserable death of his 
 sister, as it was convenient he should, conceived so great dolour 
 within his mind and was strucken with so pestilent fury of 
 bitter anguish, that he fell into the burning passions of a 
 dangerous ague, whereby he seemed in such necessity, that 
 he needed to have some speedy remedy to save his life. The 
 woman that slew the Maiden having lost the name of wife 
 together with her faith, went to a traiterous Physitian, who 
 had killed a great many persons in his dayes and promised 
 220
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 him fifty peeces of Gold, if he would give her a present CHAPTER 
 poyson to kill her Husband out of hand, but in presence of XLVI 
 her Husband, she feined that it was necessary for him to I ? ow * cer " 
 receive a certaine kind of drinke, which the Maisters and fe ie j^ a jg 
 Doctours of Physicke doe call a sacred Potion, to the intent withApuleius, 
 he might purge Choller, and secure the interiour parts of his etc. 
 body. But the Physitian in stead of that drinke prepared 
 a mortall and deadly poyson, and when he had tempered it 
 accordingly, he tooke the pot in the presence of the family, 
 and other neighbours and friends of the sick yong man, and 
 offered it to his patient. But the bold and hardy woman, to 
 the end she might accomplish her wicked intent, and also 
 gaine the money which she had promised the Physitian, staid 
 the pot with her hand, saying : I pray you master Physitian, 
 minister not this drinke unto my deare Husband, untill such 
 time as you have drunke some part thereof your selfe : For 
 what know I, whether you have mingled any poyson in the 
 drinke or no, wherein I would have you not to be offended : 
 For I know that you are a man of wisedome and learning, 
 but this I do to the intent the conscience and love that 
 I beare to the health and safegard of my husband, may be 
 apparant. The Physitian being greatly troubled at the 
 wickednesse of this mischievous woman, as voyd of all 
 counsell and leysure to consider of the matter, and least 
 he might give any cause of suspition to the standers by, 
 or shew any scruple of his guilty conscience, by reason of 
 long delay, tooke the pot in his hand, and presently drunke 
 a good draught thereof, which done, the young man having 
 no mistrust, drunke up the residue. The Physitian would 
 have gone immediatly home to receive a counterpoyson, to 
 expell and drive out tne first poyson : But the wicked woman 
 persevering in her mischiefe, would not suffer him to depart 
 a foot, untill such time as the poyson began to worke in him, 
 and then by much prayer and intercession she licensed him 
 to goe home : By the way the poyson invaded the intrailes 
 and bowels of the whole body of the Physitian, in such sort 
 that with great paine he came to his owne house, where he 
 had scarce time to speake to his wife, and to will her to 
 receive the promised salitary of the death of two persons, 
 
 221
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER but he yeelded up the ghost : And the other young man 
 
 XLVI lived not long after, but likewise dyed, amongst the feined 
 
 f r c . er " and deceitfull teares of his cursed wife. A few dayes after, 
 
 in love wnen the young man was buried and the funerall ended, the 
 
 withApuleius, Physitians wife demanded of her the fifty peeces of gold 
 etc. which she promised her husband for the drinke, whereat the 
 ill disposed woman, with resemblance of honesty, answered 
 her with gentle words, and promised to give her the fifty 
 peeces of gold, if she would fetch her a little of that same 
 drinke, to proceed and make an end of all her enterprise. 
 The Physitians wife partly to winne the further favour of this 
 rich woman, and partly to gaine the money, ranne incon- 
 tinently home, and brought her a whole roote of poyson, 
 which when she saw, having now occasion to execute her 
 further malice, and to finish the damnable plot, began to 
 stretch out her bloody hands to murther. She had a daughter 
 by her husband (that was poysoned) who according to order 
 of law, was appointed heire of all the lands and goods of her 
 father : but this woman knowing that the mothers succoured 
 their children, and received all their goods after their death, 
 purposed to shew her selfe a like parent to her child, as she 
 was a wife to her husband, whereupon she prepared a dinner 
 with her owne hands, and empoysoned both the wife of the 
 Physitian and her owne daughter : The child being young 
 and tender dyed incontinently by force of the drinke, but 
 the Physitians wife being stout and strong of complexion, 
 feeling the poison to trill down into her body, doubted the 
 matter, and thereupon knowing of certainty that she had 
 received her bane, ran forthwith to the judges house, that 
 what with her cryes, and exclamations, she raised up the 
 people of the towne, and promising them to shew divers 
 wicked and mischievous acts, caused that the doores and 
 gates were opened. When she came in she declared from the 
 beginning to the end the abhomination of this woman : but 
 shee had scarce ended her tale, when opening her falling lips, 
 and grinding her teeth together, she fell downe dead before 
 the face of the Judge, who incontinently to try the truth of 
 the matter, caused the cursed woman, and her servants to be 
 pulled out of the house, and enforced by paine of torment to 
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 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 confesse the verity, which being knowne, this mischievous CHAPTER 
 woman farre lesse then she deserved, but because there could XLV1 
 be no more cruell a death invented for the quality of her t T? ow f, c . er " 
 offence, was condemned to be eaten with wild beasts. Behold f e le ^ a j 
 with this woman was I appointed to have to doe before the withApuleius 
 face of the people, but I being wrapped in great anguish, etc. 
 and envying the day of the triumph, when we two should so 
 abandon our selves together, devised rather to sley my selfe, 
 then to pollute my body with this mischievous harlot, and 
 so for ever to remaine defamed : but it was impossible for 
 me so to doe, considering that I lacked hands, and was not 
 able to hold a knife in my hoofes : howbeit standing in a 
 pretty cabin, I rejoyced in my selfe to see that spring time 
 was come, and that all things flourished, and that I was in 
 good hope to find some Roses, to render me my humane 
 shape. When the day of triumph came, I was led with 
 great pompe and benevolence to the appointed place, where 
 when I was brought, I first saw the preamble of that 
 triumph, dedicated with dancers and merry taunting jests, 
 and in the meane season was placed before the gate of 
 the Theater, whereas on the one side I saw the greene 
 and fresh grasse growing before the entry thereof, where- 
 on I greatly desired to feed : on the other side I con- 
 ceived a great delectation to see when the Theater gates 
 were opened, how all things was finely prepared and set 
 forth: For there I might see young children and maidens 
 in the flowre of their youth of excellent beauty, and 
 attired gorgiously, dancing and mooved in comely order, 
 according to the order of Grecia, for sometime they would 
 dance in length, sometime round together, sometime divide 
 themselves into foure parts, and sometimes loose hands on 
 every side : but when the trumpet gave warning that every 
 man should retire to his place, then began the triumph to 
 appeare. First there was a hill of wood, not much unlike that 
 which the Poet Homer called Idea, for it was garnished about 
 with all sort of greene verdures and lively trees, from the top 
 whereof ran downe a cleare and fresh fountaine, nourishing 
 the waters below, about which wood were many young and 
 tender Goates, plucking and feeding daintily on the budding
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER trees, then came a young man a shepheard representing Paris, 
 XLVI richly arrayed with vestments of Barbary, having a mitre of 
 ^ W \f CCr " &ld upon his head, and seeming as though he kept the 
 fell^ in a iove g oa tes. After him ensued another young man all naked, 
 withApuleius, saving that his left shoulder was covered with a rich cloake, 
 etc. and his head shining with glistering haires, and hanging 
 downe, through which you might perceive two little wings, 
 whereby you might conjecture that he was Mercury, with his 
 rod called Caduceus, he bare in his right hand an Apple of 
 gold, and with a seemely gate went towards him that repre- 
 sented Paris, and after hee had delivered him the Apple, 
 hee made a signe, signifying that Jupiter had commanded 
 him so to doe : when he had done his message he departed 
 away. And by and by, there approached a faire and comely 
 mayden, not much unlike to Juno, for she had a Diademe 
 of gold upon her head, and in her hand she bare a re- 
 gall scepter: then followed another resembling Pallas, for 
 she had on her head a shining sallet, whereon was bound a 
 garland of Olive branches, having in one hand a target or 
 shield : and in the other a speare as though she would fight : 
 then came another which passed the other in beauty, and 
 presented the Goddesse Venus, with the color of Ambrosia, 
 when she was a maiden, and to the end she would shew her 
 perfect beauty, shee appeared all naked, saving that her fine 
 and dainty skin was covered with a thin smocke, which the 
 wind blew hither and thither to testifie the youth and flowre 
 of the age of the dame. Her colour was of two sorts, for her 
 body was white as descended from heaven, and her smocke 
 was blewish, as arrived from the sea : After every one of the 
 Virgins which seemed goddesses, followed certaine waiting 
 servants, Castor and Pollux went behind Juno, having on 
 their heads helmets covered with starres. This Virgin Juno 
 sounded a Flute, which shee bare in her hand, and mooved 
 her selfe towards the shepheard Paris, shewing by honest signes 
 and tokens, and promising that hee should be Lord of all 
 Asia, if hee would judge her the fairest of the three, and to 
 give her the apple of gold : the other maiden which seemed 
 by her armour to be Pallas, was accompanied with two young 
 men armed, and brandishing their naked swords in their 
 224
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 hands, whereof one named Terror, and the other Feare; be- CHAPTER 
 hind them approached one sounding his trumpet to provoke XLVI 
 and stirre men to battell ; this maiden began to dance and ^ow * cer ~ 
 shake her head, throwing her fierce and terrible eyes upon fe |" e in & {^ 
 Paris and promising that if it pleased him to give her the withApuleius, 
 victory of beauty, shee would make him the most strong and etc. 
 victorious man alive. Then came Venus and presented her 
 selfe in the middle of the Theater, with much favour of all 
 the people, for shee was accompanied with a great many 
 of youth, whereby you would have judged them all to be 
 Cupidoes, either to have flowne from heaven or else from the 
 river of the sea, for they had wings, arrowes, and the residue 
 of their habit according in each point, and they bare in their 
 hands torches lighted, as though it had beene a day of 
 marriage. Then came in a great multitude of faire maidens : 
 on the one side were the most comely Graces : on the other 
 side, the most beautifull Houres carrying garlands and loose 
 flowers, and making great honor to the goddesse of pleasure ; 
 the flutes and Pipes yeelded out the sweet sound of Lydians, 
 whereby they pleased the minds of the standers by exceed- 
 ingly, but the more pleasing Venus mooved forward more and 
 more, and shaking her head answered by her motion and 
 gesture, to the sound of the instruments. For sometimes she 
 would winke gently, sometimes threaten and looke aspishly, 
 and sometimes dance onely with her eyes : As soone as she 
 was come before the Judge, she made a signe and token to 
 give him the most fairest spouse of all the world, if he would 
 prefer her above the residue of the goddesses. Then the young 
 Phrygian shepheard Paris with a willing mind delivered the 
 golden Apple to Venus, which was the victory of beauty. 
 Why doe ye marvell, ye Orators, ye Lawyers, and Advocates, 
 if many of our judges now a daies sell their judgements for 
 money, when as in the beginning of the world one onely 
 Grace corrupted the sentence betweene God and men, and 
 that one rusticall Judge and shepheard appointed by the 
 counsell of great Jupiter, sold his judgement for a little 
 pleasure, which was the cause afterward of the mine of all 
 his progeny ? By like manner of meane, was sentence given 
 between the noble Greekes : For the noble and valiant per- 
 2F 225
 
 THE TENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER sonage Palamedes was convicted and attainted of treason, by 
 XLA I false perswasion and accusation, and Ulisses being but of 
 
 How a cer- j^g conc lition, was preferred in Martiall prowesse above 
 tame Matron . .. ,,, , . ,., , . , 
 
 fell in love g re& ^ Ajax. What judgement was there likewise amongst the 
 
 withApuleius, Athenian lawyers, sage and expert in all sciences ? Was not 
 etc. Socrates who was preferred by Apollo, above all the wise men 
 in the world, by envy and mab'ce of wicked persons impoy- 
 soned with the herbe Cicuta, as one that corrupted the youth 
 of the countrey, whom alwaies be kept under by correction ? 
 For we see now a dayes many excellent Philosophers greatly 
 desire to follow his sect, and by perpetuall study to value and 
 revolve his workes, but to the end I may not be reproved of 
 indignation by any one that might say: What, shall wee suffer 
 an Asse to play the Philosopher? I will returne to my 
 further purpose. 
 
 After the judgement of Paris was ended, Juno and Pallas 
 ' departed away angerly, shewing by their gesture, that they 
 would revenge themselves on Paris, but Venus that was right 
 pleased and glad in her heart, danced about the Theater 
 with much joy. This done from the top of the hill through 
 a privy spout, ran a floud of the colour of Saffron, which 
 fell upon the Goates, and changed their white haire into 
 yellow, with a sweet odour to all them of the Theater. By 
 and by after by certaine engines, the ground opened, and 
 swallowed up the hill of wood : and then behold there came 
 a man of armes through the multitude, demanding by the 
 consent of the people, the woman who was condemned to the 
 beasts, and appointed for me to have to doe withall : our bed 
 was finely and bravely prepared, and covered with silke and 
 other things necessary. But I, beside the shame to commit 
 this horrible fact, and to pollute my body with this wicked 
 harlot did greatly feare the danger of death : for I thought 
 in my selfe, that when she and I were together, the savage 
 beast appointed to devoure the woman, was not so instructed 
 and taught, or would so temper his greedinesse, as that hee 
 would teare her in peeces lying under mee, and spare mee 
 with a regard of mine innocency. Wherefore I was more 
 carefull for the safeguard of my fife, then for the shame that 
 I should abide, but in the meane season while my master 
 
 226
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 made ready the bed, all the residue did greatly delight to see CHAPTER 
 the hunting and pleasantnesse of the triumph, I began to XLVI 
 thinke and devise for my selfe. When I perceived that no man *? ow * cer ~ 
 had regard to mee, that was so tame and gentle an Asse, I ^JJ 16 i^i" 
 stole out of the gate that was next me, and then I ran withApuleius 
 away with all force, and came to Cenchris, which is the most etc. 
 famous towne of all the Carthaginians, bordering upon the 
 Seas called Ageum, and Saronicum, where is a great and 
 mighty Haven, frequented with many a sundry Nation. 
 There because I would avoyd the multitude of the people, I 
 went to a secret place of the Sea coast, where I laid me 
 down upon the sand, to ease and refresh my selfe, 
 for the day was past and the Sunne gone downe, 
 and lying in this sort on the ground, did 
 fall in a sound sleepe. 
 
 227
 
 THE 
 
 ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 of LUCIUS APULEIUS of 
 THE GOLDEN ASSE
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 THE FORTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER 
 
 How Apuleius by Roses and prayer returned to his 
 humane shape. 
 
 HEN midnight came that I had slept my 
 first sleepe, I awaked with suddaine feare, 
 and saw the Moone shining bright, as when 
 shee is at the full, and seeming as though 
 she leaped out of the Sea. Then thought 
 I with my selfe, that that was the most 
 secret time, when the goddesse Ceres had 
 most puissance and force, considering that 
 all humane things be governed by her providence : and not 
 onely all beasts private and tame, but also all wild and savage 
 beasts be under her protection. And considering that all 
 bodies in the heavens, the earth and the seas, be by her 
 increasing motions increased, and by her diminishing motions 
 diminished : as weary of all my cruell fortune and calamity, 
 I found good hope and soveraigne remedy, though it were 
 very late, to be delivered from all my misery, by invocation 
 and prayer, to the excellent beauty of the Goddesse, whom I 
 saw shining before mine eyes, wherefore shaking off mine 
 Assie and drowsie sleepe, I arose with a joyfull face, and 
 mooved by a great affection to purifie my selfe, I plunged my 
 selfe seven times into the water of the Sea, which number of 
 seven is conveniable and agreeable to holy and divine things, 
 as the worthy and sage Philosopher Pythagoras hath declared. 
 Then with a weeping countenance, I made this Orison to 
 
 231
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER the puissant Goddesse, saying : O blessed Queene of heaven, 
 XLVII whether thou be the Dame Ceres which art the originall and 
 
 by Rostand mot h erl y nource of a11 fruitfull things in earth, who after the 
 prayer 8 r^ finding of thy daughter Proserpina, through the great joy 
 
 turned to his which thou diddest presently conceive, madest barraine and 
 
 humane shape unfruitfull ground to be plowed and sowne, and now thou 
 inhabitest in the land of Eleusie ; or whether thou be the 
 celestiall Venus, who in the beginning of the world diddest 
 couple together all kind of things with an ingendered love, 
 by an eternall propagation of humane kind, art now wor- 
 shipped within the Temples of the He Paphos, thou which 
 art the sister of the God Phoebus, who nourishest so many 
 people by the generation of beasts, and art now adored at the 
 sacred places of Ephesus, thou which art horrible Proserpina, 
 by reason of the deadly bowlings which thou yeeldest, that 
 hast power to stoppe and put away the invasion of the 
 hags and Ghoasts which appeare unto men, and to keepe 
 them downe in the closures of the earth : thou which art 
 worshipped in divers manners, and doest illuminate all the 
 borders of the earth by the feminine shape, thou which 
 nourishest all the fruits of the world by thy vigor and force ; 
 with whatsoever name or fashion it is lawfull to call upon 
 thee, I pray thee, to end my great travaile and misery, and 
 deliver mee from the wretched fortune, which had so long 
 time pursued me. Grant peace and rest if it please thee to my 
 adversities, for I have endured too too much labour and perill. 
 Remoove from me my shape of mine Asse, and render to me 
 my pristine estate, and if I have offended in any point of 
 divine Majesty, let me rather dye then live, for I am full 
 weary of my life. When I had ended this orison, and dis- 
 covered my plaints to the Goddesse, I fortuned to fall asleepe, 
 and by and by appeared unto me a divine and venerable face, 
 worshipped even of the Gods themselves. Then by little and 
 little I seemed to see the whole figure of her body, mounting 
 out of the sea and standing before mee, wherefore I purpose 
 to describe her divine semblance, if the poverty of my humane 
 speech will suffer me, or her divine power give me eloquence 
 thereto. First, shee had a great abundance of haire, dis- 
 persed and scattered about her neck, on the crowne of her 
 232
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 head she bare many garlands enterlaced with floures, in the CHAPTER 
 middle of her forehead was a compasse in fashion of a glasse, XLVII 
 or resembling the light of the Moone, in one of her hands P^ s p g le ^ 
 she bare serpents, in the other, blades of corne, her vestiment ^yer* * 
 was of fine silke yeelding divers colours, sometime yellow, turned to his 
 sometime rosie, sometime flamy, and sometime (which troubled humane shape 
 my spirit sore) darke and obscure, covered with a blacke robe 
 in manner of a shield, and pleated in most subtill fashion at 
 the skirts of her garments, the welts appeared comely, where- 
 as here and there the starres glimpsed, and in the middle of 
 them was placed the Moone, which shone like a flame of fire, 
 round about the robe was a coronet or garland made with 
 flowres and fruits. In her right hand shee had a timbrell of 
 brasse, which gave a pleasant sound, in her left hand shee bare 
 a cup of gold, out of the mouth whereof the serpent Aspis 
 lifted up his head, with a swelling throat, her odoriferous 
 feete were covered with shoes interlaced and wrought with 
 victorious palme. Thus the divine shape breathing out the 
 pleasant spice of fertill Arabia, disdained not with her divine 
 voyce to utter these words unto me : Behold Lucius I am 
 come, thy weeping and prayers hath mooved mee to succour 
 thee. I am she that is the naturall mother of all things, 
 mistresse and governesse of all the Elements, the initiall pro- 
 geny of worlds, chiefe of powers divine, Queene of heaven, 
 the principall of the Gods celestiall, the light of the god- 
 desses : at my will the planets of the ayre, the wholesome 
 winds of the Seas, and the silences of hell be disposed ; my 
 name, my divinity is adored throughout all the world in 
 divers manners, in variable customes and in many names, for 
 the Phrygians call me the mother of the Gods : the Athenians, 
 Minerva : the Cyprians, Venus : the Candians, Diana : the 
 Sicilians, Proserpina : the Eleusians, Ceres : some Juno, other 
 Bellona, other Hecate : and principally the ^Ethiopians which 
 dwell in the Orient, and the ^Egyptians which are excellent 
 in all kind of ancient doctrine, and by their proper ceremonies 
 accustome to worship mee, doe call mee Queene Isis. Behold 
 I am come to take pitty of thy fortune and tribulation, 
 behold I am present to favour and ayd thee, leave off thy 
 weeping and lamentation, put away all thy sorrow, for behold 
 2G 233
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER the healthfull day which is ordained by my providence, there- 
 XLVII f ore be ready to attend to my commandement. This day 
 
 How Apulems w hich s hall come after this night, is dedicated to my service, 
 by Roses and, v . &. , ,,. . . -.J 
 
 prayer re- by an eternall religion, my Priests and Ministers doe accus- 
 
 turned to his tome after the tempests of the Sea, be ceased, to offer in my 
 humane shape name a new ship as a first fruit of my Navigation. I com- 
 mand thee not to prophane or despise the sacrifice in any 
 wise, for the great Priest shall carry this day following in 
 procession by my exhortation, a Garland of Roses, next the 
 timbrell of his right hand : follow thou my procession 
 amongst the people, and when thou commest to the Priest, 
 make as though thou wouldest kisse his hand, but snatch at 
 the Roses, whereby I will put away the skin and shape of an 
 Asse, which kind of beast I have long time abhorred and 
 despised, but above all things beware thou doubt not nor 
 feare any of those things, as hard and difficill to bee brought 
 to passe, for in the same houre that I am come to thee, I have 
 commanded the Priest by a vision what he shall doe, and all 
 the people by my commandement shall be compelled to give 
 thee place and say nothing ! Moreover, thinke not that 
 amongst so faire and joyfull Ceremonies, and in so good a 
 company that any person shall abhorre thy ill-favoured and 
 deformed figure, or that any man shall be so hardy, as to 
 blame and reprove thy suddaine restoration to humane shape, 
 wherby they should gather or conceive any sinister opinion : 
 and know thou this of certaine, that the residue of thy life 
 untill the houre of death shall be bound and subject to 
 me ! And think it not an injury to be alwayes serviceable 
 towards me, since as by my meane and benefit thou shalt 
 become a man : thou shalt live blessed in this world, thou 
 shalt live glorious by my guide and protection, and when 
 thou descendest to Hell, where thou shalt see me shine 
 in that subterene place, shining (as thou seest me now) 
 in the darknesse of Acheron, and raigning in the deepe 
 profundity of Stix, thou shalt worship me, as one that 
 hath bin favourable to thee, and if I perceive that thou 
 art obedient to my commandement, addict to my religion, 
 and merite my divine grace, know thou, that I will pro- 
 long thy daies above the time that the fates have appointed, 
 234
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 and the celestial Planets ordeined. When the divine Image CHAPTER 
 had spoken these words, she vanished away ! By and XLVII 
 by when I awaked, I arose, haveing the members of my How Apulems 
 bodie mixed with feare, joy and sweate, and marvailed at Layer 68 re- 
 the cleare presence of the puissant goddesse, and being turned to his 
 sprinkled with the water of the sea, I recounted orderly her humane shape 
 admonitions and divine commandements. Soone after, the 
 darknes chased away, and the cleare and golden sunne arose, 
 whenas behold I saw the streets replenished with people 
 going in a religious sort and in great triumph. All things 
 seemed that day to be joyfull, as well all manner of beasts 
 and houses, as also the very day it selfe seemed to rejoyce. 
 For after the hore-frost, ensued the hot and temperat sun, 
 whereby the little birds weening that the spring time had 
 bin come, did chirp and sing in their steven melodiously: the 
 mother of stars, the parent of times, and mistres of all the 
 world : The fruitful trees rejoyced at their fertility : The 
 barren and sterill were contented at their shadow, rendering 
 sweete and pleasant shrills ! The seas were quiet from winds 
 and tempests : The heaven had chaced away the clouds, and 
 appeared faire and cleare with his proper light. Behold then 
 more and more appeared the pomps and processions, attired 
 in regall manner and singing joyfully : One was girded about 
 the middle like a man of armes : Another bare and spare, 
 and had a cloake and high-shooes like a hunter ! another was 
 attired in a robe of silke, and socks of gold, having his haire 
 laid out, and dressed in forme of a woman ! There was 
 another ware legge-harnesse, and bare a target, a sallet, and 
 a speare like a martial souldier : after him marched one 
 attired in purple with vergers before him like a magistrate ! 
 after him followed one with a maurell, a staffe, a paire of 
 pantofles, and with a gray beard, signifying a philosopher : 
 after him went one with lime, betokening a fowler, another 
 with hookes declaring a fisher: I saw there a meeke and 
 tame beare, which in matron habite was carried on a stoole : 
 An Ape with a bonet on his head, and covered with lawne, 
 resemling a shepheard, and bearing a cup of gold in his 
 hand : an Asse which had wings glewed to his backe, and 
 went after an old man, whereby you would judge the one 
 
 235
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER to be Pegasus, and the other Bellephoron. Amongst the 
 XLVII pleasures and popular delectations, which wandered hither 
 
 TJ A 1 " ^ 
 
 OV R "H ant ^ thither, you might see the pompe of the goddesse 
 
 prayer 68 re^ triumphantly march forward : The woman attired in white 
 turned to his vestiments, and rejoysing, in that they bare garlands and 
 humane shape flowres upon their heads, bespread the waies with hearbes, 
 which they bare in their aprons, where this regall and 
 devout procession should passe : Other caried glasses on their 
 backes, to testifie obeysance to the goddes which came after. 
 Other bare combes of Ivory, and declared by their gesture 
 and motions of their armes, that they were ordained and 
 readie to dresse the goddesse : Others dropped in the wayes 
 as they went Balme and other pretious ointments : Then came 
 a great number, as well of men as women, with candels, 
 torches, and other lights, doing honour to the celestial! 
 goddesse : After that sounded the musicall harmony of in- 
 struments : then came a faire companie of youth, apparelled 
 in white vestiments, singing both meeter and verse, with a 
 comely grace Avhich some studious Poet had made in honour 
 of the Muses : In the meane season, arrived the blowers of 
 trumpets, which were dedicated unto Serapis, and to the 
 temple before them were officers and bedles, preparing roome 
 for the goddes to passe. Then came the great company 
 of men and women, which had taken divine orders, whose 
 garments glistered all the streets over. The women had 
 their haire annointed and their heads covered with linnen : 
 but the men had their crownes shaven, which were the 
 terrene stars of the goddesse, holding in their hands instru- 
 ments of brasse, silver and gold, which rendered a pleasant 
 sound. The principall Priests which were apparelled with 
 white surplesses hanging downe to the ground, bare the 
 relikes of the puissant goddesse. One carried in his hand a 
 light, not unlike to those which we used in our houses, 
 saving that in the middle thereof appeared a bole which 
 rendred a more bright flame. The second attired like the 
 other, bare in his hand an Altar, which the goddesse her selfe 
 named the succor of nations. The third held a tree of 
 palme with leaves of gold, and the verge of Mercurie. The 
 fourth shewed out a token of equitie by his left hand, which 
 236
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 was deformed in every place, signifiing thereby more equitie CHAPTER 
 then by the right hand. The same Priest carried a round XLVII 
 vessell of gold, in forme of a cap. The fift bare a van, ^ R^and 
 wrought with springs of gold, and another carried a vessell Layer 68 re" 
 for wine : By and by after the goddesse followed a foot as turned to his 
 men do, and specially Mercurie, the messenger of the humane shape 
 goddesse infernall and supernall, with his face sometime 
 blacke, sometime faire, lifting up the head of the dogges 
 Annubis, and bearing in his left hand, his verge, and in his 
 right hand, the branches of a palme tree, after whom followed 
 a cow with an upright gate, representing the figure of the 
 great goddesse, and he that guided her, marched on with 
 much gravity. Another carried after the secrets of their 
 religion, closed in a coffer. There was one that bare on his 
 stomacke a figure of his god, not formed like any beast, bird, 
 savage thing or humane shape, but made by a new invention, 
 whereby was signified that such a religion should not be dis- 
 covered or revealed to any person. There was a vessell 
 wrought with a round bottome, haveing on the one side, 
 pictures figured like unto the manner of the Egyptians, and 
 on the other side was an eare, whereupon stoode the Serpent 
 Aspis, holding out his scaly necke. Finally, came he which 
 was apointed to my good fortun according to the promise of 
 the goddesse. For the great Priest which bare the restora- 
 tion of my human shape, by the commandement of the 
 goddes, approached more and more, bearing in his left hand 
 the timbrill, and in the other a garland of Roses to give me, 
 to the end I might be delivered from cruel fortune, which 
 was alwaies mine enemie, after the sufferance of so much 
 calamitie and paine, and after the endurance of so manie 
 perilles : Then I not returning hastilie, by reason of sodaine 
 joye, lest I should disturbe the quiet procession with mine 
 importunitie, but going softly through the prease of the 
 people, which gave me place on every side, went after the 
 Priest. The priest being admonished the night before, as I 
 might well perceive stood still and holding out his hand, 
 thrust out the garland of roses into my mouth, I (trembling) 
 devoured with a great affection : And as soone as I had eaten 
 them, I was not deceived of the promise made unto me. 
 
 237
 
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 CHAPTER For my deforme and Assie face abated, and first the rugged 
 XLVII haire of my body fell off, my thick skin waxed soft and 
 
 b ^ Apulem ? tender, the hoves of my feet changed into toes, my hands 
 prayer 6 re- returned againe, my neck grew short, my head and mouth 
 
 turned to his began round, my long eares were made little, my great and 
 
 humane shape stonie teeth, waxed lesse like the teeth of men, and my tayle 
 which combred me most, appeared no where : then the people 
 began to marvaile, and the religious honoured the goddesse, 
 for so evident a miracle, they wondred at the visions which 
 they saw in the night, and the facilitie of my reformation, 
 whereby they rendered testimonie of so great a benefit which 
 I received of the goddesse. When I saw my selfe in such estate, 
 I stood still a good space and said nothing, for I could not 
 tell what to say, nor what word I shoulde first speake, nor what 
 thanks I should render to the goddesse, but the great Priest 
 understanding all my fortune and miserie, by divine advertise- 
 ment, commanded that one should give me garments to 
 cover me : Howbeit as soone as I was transformed from an 
 asse to my humane shape, I hid the privitie of my body with 
 my hands as shame and necessity compelled mee. Then one 
 of the company put off his upper robe and put it on my 
 backe : which done, the Priest looked upon me, with a sweete 
 and benigne voice, gan say in this sort : O my friend Lucius, 
 after the endurance of so many labours, and the escape of so 
 many tempests of fortune, thou art at length come to the 
 port and haven of rest and mercy : neither did thy noble 
 linage, thy dignity, thy doctrine, or any thing prevaile, but 
 that thou hast endured so many servil pleasures, by a little 
 folly of thy youthfullnes, whereby thou hast had a sinister 
 reward for thy unprosperous curiositie, but howsoever the 
 blindnes of fortune tormented thee in divers dangers : so it 
 is, that now unwares to her, thou art come to this present 
 felicitie : let fortune go, and fume with fury in another place, 
 let her finde some other matter to execute her cruelty, for 
 fortune hath no puissance against them which serve and 
 honour our goddesse. For what availed the theeves : the beasts 
 savage : thy great servitude : the ill and dangerous waies : the 
 long passages : the feare of death every day ? Know thou, 
 that now thou art safe, and under the protection of her, who 
 238
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 by her cleare light doth lighten the other gods: wherefore CHAPTER 
 rejoyce and take a convenable countenance to thy white XLVII 
 habit, follow the pomp of this devout and honorable pro- How Apuleius 
 cession, to the end that such which be not devout to the prayer 68 r 
 Goddes, may see and acknowledge their errour. Behold turned to his 
 Lucius, thou art delivered from so great miseries, by the pro- humane shape 
 vidence of the goddesse Isis, rejoyce therefore and triumph 
 of the victory of fortune ; to the end thou maist live more 
 safe and sure, make thy selfe one of this holy order, dedicate 
 thy minde to the Obsequy of our Religion, and take upon 
 thee a voluntary yoake of ministrie : And when thou begin- 
 nest to serve and honour the goddes, then thou shalt feele 
 the fruit of thy liberty : After that the great Priest had 
 prophesied in this manner, with often breathings, he made a 
 conclusion of his words : Then I went amongst the company 
 of the rest and followed the procession : everie one of the 
 people knew me, and pointing at me with their fingers, said 
 in this sort : Behold him who is this day transformed into a 
 man by the puissance of the soveraigne goddesse, verily he is 
 blessed and most blessed that hath merited so great grace 
 from heaven, as by the innocencie of his former life, and as it 
 were by a new regeneration is reserved to the obsequie of 
 the goddesse. In the meane season by little and little we 
 approached nigh unto the sea cost, even to that place where 
 I lay the night before being an Asse. There after the images 
 and reliques were orderly disposed, the great Priest compassed 
 about with divers pictures according to the fashion of the 
 ^Egyptians, did dedicate and consecrate with certaine prayers 
 a fair ship made very cunningly, and purified the same with 
 a torch, an egge, and sulphur ; the saile was of white linnen 
 cloath, whereon was written certaine letters, which testified 
 the navigation to be prosperous, the mast was of a great 
 length, made of a Pine tree, round and very excellent with a 
 shining top, the cabin was covered over with coverings of 
 gold, and all the shippe was made of Citron tree very faire ; 
 then all the people as well religious as prophane tooke a 
 great number of Vannes, replenished with odours and 
 pleasant smells and threw them into the sea mingled with 
 milke, untill the ship was filled up with large gifts and 
 
 239
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER prosperous devotions, when as with a pleasant wind it 
 XLVII lanched out into the deep. But when they had lost the 
 
 How Apuleius sight of the ship, every man caried againe that he brought, 
 by Roses and 5 j *j ,v J , i vi j j 5 
 
 prayer re- an " wen ^ toward the temple m like pompe and order as 
 
 turned to his they came to the sea side. When we were come to the 
 
 humane shape temple, the great priest and those which were deputed to 
 
 carrie the divine figures, but especially those which had long 
 
 time bin worshippers of the religion, went into the secret 
 
 chamber of the goddesse, where they put and placed the 
 
 images according to their ordor. This done, one of the 
 
 company which was a scribe or interpreter of letters, who in 
 
 forme of a preacher stood up in a chaire before the place of 
 
 the holy college, and began to reade out of a booke, and to 
 
 interpret to the great prince, the senate, and to all the noble 
 
 order of chivalry, and generally to all the Romane people, and 
 
 to all such as be under the juris-diction of Rome, these words 
 
 following (Laois Aphesus) which signified the end of their 
 
 divin service and that it was lawfull for every man to depart, 
 
 whereat all the people gave a great showt, and replenished 
 
 with much joy, bare all kind of hearbs and garlands of 
 
 flowers home to their houses, kissing and imbracing the steps 
 
 where the goddesse passed : howbeit I could not doe as the 
 
 rest, for my mind would not suffer me to depart one foot 
 
 away, so attentiv was I to behold the beauty of 
 
 the goddesse, with remembrance of the great 
 
 miserie I had endured. 
 
 240
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 THE FORTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER 
 
 How the parents and friends of Apuleius heard 
 news that he was alive and in health. 
 
 N the meane season newes was carried into 
 my couixtrey (as swift as the flight of 
 birds, or as the blast of windes) of the 
 grace and benefit which I received of the 
 goddesse, and of my fortune worthy to 
 be had in memory. Then my parents 
 friends and servants of our house under- 
 standing that I was not dead, as they 
 were falsely informed, came towards me with great dilligence 
 to see me, as a man raised from death to life : and I which 
 never thought to see them againe, was as joyfull as they, 
 accepting and taking in good part their honest gifts and 
 oblations that they gave, to the intent I might buy such 
 things as was necessarie for my body : for after I haa made 
 relation unto them of all my pristine miserie, and present 
 joyes, I went before the face of the goddesse and hired me a 
 house within the cloister of the temple to the end I might 
 continually be ready to the service of the goddesse, and 
 ordinarily frequent the company of the priests, whereby I 
 would wholy become devout to the goddesse, and an insepar- 
 able worshipper of her divine name : It fortuned that the 
 goddesse appeared to me oftetimes in the night, perswading 
 and commanding me to take the order of her religion, but I, 
 though I was indued with a desirous good will, yet the feare 
 of the same withheld me considering her obeysance was hard 
 and difficile, the chastitie of the Priests intolerable, and the 
 life fraile and subject to manie inconveniences. Being thus in 
 doubt, I refrained my selfe from all those things as seemed 
 impossible. 
 
 On a night the great priest appeared unto me, present- 
 ing his lap full of treasure, and when I demanded what 
 it signified, he answered, that it was sent me from the 
 2H 241
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER countrey of Thessaly, and that a servant of mine named 
 XLVIII Candidas was arived likewise : when I was awake, I mused 
 16 , in my selfe what this vision should pretend, considering I had 
 fnendsof Apu- never an 7 servant called by that name : but what soever it 
 leius heard did signifie, this I verely thought, that it was a foreshew of 
 news that he gaine and prosperous chance : while I was thus astonied I 
 was alive and wen t to the temple, and taried there till the opening of the 
 gates, then I went in and began to pray before the face of 
 the goddesse, the Priest prepared and set the divine things 
 of every Altar, and pulled out the fountaine and holy vessell 
 with solempne supplication. Then they began to sing the 
 mattens of the morning, testifying thereby the houre of the 
 prime. By and by behold arived my servant which I had 
 left in the country, when Fotis by errour made me an Asse, 
 bringing with him my horse, recovered by her through 
 certaine signes and tokens which I had upon my backe. 
 Then I perceived the interpretation of my dreame, by reason 
 that beside the promise of gaine, my white horse was re- 
 stored to me, which was signified by the argument of my 
 servant Candidus. 
 
 This done I retired to the service of the goddesse in 
 hope of greater benefits, considering I had received a 
 signe and token, whereby my courage increased every day 
 more and more to take upon me the orders and sacraments 
 of the temple : insomuch that I oftentimes communed 
 with the Priest, desiring him greatly to give me the degree 
 of the religion, but he which was a man of gravitie, and 
 well renowned in the order of priesthood, deferred my 
 affection from day to day, with comfort and better hope, as 
 parents commonly bridle the desires of their children, when 
 they attempt or indeavour any unprofitable thing, saying, 
 that the day when any one should be admitted into their 
 order is appointed by the goddesse, the Priest which should 
 minister the sacrifice is chosen by her providence, and the 
 necessary charges of the ceremonies is alotted by her com- 
 mandement, all which things he willed me to attend with 
 marvailous patience, and that I should beware either of too 
 much hastinesse, or too great slack nesse, considering that 
 there was like danger, if being called I should delay, or not 
 242
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 called I should be hasty: moreover he said that there was CHAPTER 
 
 none of his company either of so desperate a mind, or so rash XLVIII 
 
 and hardy, as to enterprise any thing without the commande- 
 
 ment of the goddesse, whereby he should commit a deadly fS^nd^f A?u- 
 
 offence, considering that it was in her power to damne and leius heard 
 
 save all persons, and if any were at the point of death, and news that he 
 
 in the way to damnation, so that he were capable to receive wa ? alive and 
 
 the secrets of the goddesse, it was in her power by divine in healtl1 
 
 providence to reduce him to the path of health, as by a 
 
 certaine kind of regeneration : Finally he said that I must 
 
 attend the celestial! precept, although it was evident and 
 
 plaine, that the goddesse had already vouchsafed to call and 
 
 appoint me to her ministery, and to will me refraine from 
 
 prophane and unlawfull meates, as those Priests which were 
 
 already received, to the end I might come more apt and 
 
 cleane to the knowledge of the secrets of religion. Then 
 
 was I obedient unto these words, and attentive with meek 
 
 quietnesse, and probable taciturnity, I daily served at the 
 
 temple : in the end the wholesome gentlenesse of the 
 
 goddesse did nothing deceive me, for in the night she 
 
 appeared to me in a vision, shewing that the day was come 
 
 which I had wished for so long, she told me what provision 
 
 and charges I should be at, and how that she had appointed 
 
 her principallest Priest Mythra to be a minister with me in 
 
 my sacrifices. 
 
 When I heard these divine commandements, I greatly re- 
 joy ced : and arose before day to speake with the great Priest, 
 whom I fortuned to espie comming out of his chamber : 
 Then I saluted him, and thought with my selfe to aske and 
 demand his counsell with a bold courage, but as soone 
 as he perceived me, he began first to say : O Lucius now 
 know I well that thou art most happy and blessed, whom 
 the divine goddesse doth so greatly accept with mercy, why 
 dost thou delay ? Behold the day which thou desiredst when 
 as thou shalt receive at my hands the order of religion, and 
 know the most pure secrets of the gods, whereupon the old 
 man tooke me by the hand, and lead me to the gate of the 
 great temple, where at the first entrie he made a solempne 
 celebration, and after morning sacrifice ended, brought out of 
 
 243
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER the secret place of the temple books, partly written with un- 
 XLVJII known characters, and partly painted with figures of beasts 
 16 , declaring briefly every sentence, with tops and tailes, turning 
 frfendsof Apu- ^ n f asn i n f a wheele, which were strange and impossible to 
 leius heard be read of the prophane people : There he interpreted to me 
 news that he such things as were necessary to the use and preparation of 
 was alive and mme order. This done, I gave charge to certaine of my 
 companions to buy liberally, whatsoever was needfull and 
 convenient, then he brought me to the next bains accom- 
 panied with all the religious sort, and demanding pardon of 
 the goddesse, washed me and purified my body, according to 
 custome. After this, when noone approached, he brought 
 me backe againe to the temple, presented me before the face 
 of the goddesse, giving a charge of certaine secret things 
 unlawfull to be uttered, and commanding me, and generally 
 all the rest, to fast by the space of ten continuall daies, 
 without eating of any beast, or drinking any wine, which 
 thing I observed with a marvellous continencie. Then 
 behold the day approached, when as the sacrifice should be 
 done, and when night came there arrived on every coast, a 
 great multitude of Priests, who according to their order 
 offered me many presents and gifts : then was all the Laity 
 and prophane people commanded to depart, and when they 
 had put on my back a linnen robe, they brought me to the 
 most secret and sacred place of all the temple. You would 
 peradventure demand (you studious reader) what was said 
 and done there, verely I would tell you if it were lawfull for 
 me to tell, you shoula know if it were convenient for you to 
 heare, but both thy eares, and my tongue shall incur the like 
 paine of rash curiositie : Howbeit, I will content thy mind 
 for this present time, which peradventure is somewhat re- 
 ligious and given to some devotion, listen therefore and 
 beleeve it to be true : Thou shalt understand that I 
 approached neere unto Hell, even to the gates of Proserpina, 
 and after that, I was ravished throughout all the Element, 
 I returned to my proper place : About midnight I saw the 
 Sun shine, I saw likewise the gods celestiall and gods in- 
 fernall, before whom I presented my selfe, and worshipped 
 them : Behold now have I told thee, which although thou 
 244
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 hast heard, yet it is necessarie them conceale it; this have CHAPTER 
 I declared without offence, for the understanding of the XLVIII 
 prophane. How the 
 
 When morning came, and that the solemnities were frS^ofAni 
 finished, I came forth sanctified with xii. Stoles and in a l e ius heard 
 religious habit, whereof I am not forbidden to speake, con- news that he 
 sidering that many persons saw me at that time : there I was wa . s ^ ve and 
 commanded to stand upon a seate of wood, which stood in m health 
 the middle of the temple, before the figure and remembrance 
 of the goddesse ; my vestiment was of fine linnen, covered and 
 embroidered with flowers. I had a pretious Cope upon my 
 shoulders hanging downe to the ground, whereon were 
 beasts wrought of divers colours, as Indian dragons, and 
 Hiperborian Griphons, whom in forme of birds, the other 
 world doth ingender ; the Priests commonly call such a habit, 
 a celestiall Stole : in my right hand I carried a light torch, 
 and a garland of flowers upon my head, with Palme leaves 
 sprouting out on every side : I was adorned like unto the 
 Sun, and made in fashion of an Image, in such sort that all 
 the people compassed about to behold me : then they began 
 to solemnize the feast of the nativitie, and the new procession 
 with sumptuous bankets and delicate meates : the third day 
 was likewise celebrated with like ceremonies with a religious 
 dinner, and with all the consummation of the order : when 
 I had continued there a good space, I conceived a marvailous 
 great pleasure and consolation in beholding ordinarily the 
 Image of the goddesse, who at length admonished me to 
 depart homeward, not without rendring of thanks, which 
 although it were not sufficient, yet they were according to 
 my power. Howbeit I could unneth be perswaded to depart, 
 before I had fallen prostrate before the face of the goddesse, 
 and wiped her steps with my face, whereby I began so greatly 
 to weepe and sigh that my words were interrupted, and as 
 devouring my prayer, I began to say in this sort : O holy 
 and blessed dame, the perpetuall comfort of humane kind, 
 who by thy bounty and grace nourishest all the world, and 
 bearest a great affection to the adversities of the miserable, 
 as a loving mother thou takest no rest, neither art thou idle 
 at any time in giving thy benefits, and succoring all men, as 
 
 245
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER well on land as sea; thou art she that puttest away all 
 XLVIII stormes and dangers from mans life by the right hand, 
 16 , whereby likewise thou restrainest the fatall dispositions, 
 frtends of Apu- appeasest the great tempests of fortune and keepest backe 
 leius heard the course of the stars : the gods supernall doe honour thee : 
 news that he the gods infernall have thee in reverence : thou environ- 
 was alive and es & l\ the world, thou givest light to the Sunne, thou 
 governest the world, thou treadst downe the power of hell : 
 By thy meane the times returne, the Planets rejoyce, the 
 Elements serve : at thy commandement the winds do blow, 
 the clouds increase, the seeds prosper, and the fruits prevaile, 
 the birds of the aire, the beasts of the hill, the serpents of 
 the den, and the fishes of the sea, do tremble at thy majesty, 
 but my spirit is not able to give thee sufficient praise, my 
 patrimonie is unable to satisfie thy sacrifice, my voice hatn 
 no power to utter that which I thinke, no if I had a thousand 
 mouths and so many tongues : Howbeit as a good religious 
 person, and according to my estate, I will alwaies keepe thee 
 in remembrance and close thee within my breast. When I 
 had ended mine orison, I went to imbrace the great Priest 
 Mythra my spirituall father, and to demand his pardon, 
 considering I was unable to recompence the good which he 
 had done to me : after great greeting and thanks I departed 
 from him to visit my parents and friends ; and within a 
 while after by the exhortation of the goddesse, I made up 
 my packet, and tooke shipping toward the Citie of Rome, 
 wnere with a prosperous winde I arrived about the xii. 
 day of December. And the greatest desire that I had 
 there, was daily to make my praiers to the soveraigne god- 
 desse Isis, who by reason of the place where her temple was 
 builded, was called Campensis, and continually adored of 
 the people of Rome. Her minister and worshipper was I, 
 howbeit I was a stranger to her Church, and unknowne 
 to her religion there. 
 
 When the yeare was ended, and the goddesse warned 
 me againe to receive this new order and consecration, I 
 marvailed greatly what it should signifie, and what should 
 happen, considering that I was a sacred person already. 
 But it fortuned that while I partly reasoned with my selfe, 
 246
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 and partly examining the thing with the Priests and Bishops, CHAPTER 
 there came a new and marvailous thought in my mind, that XLVIII 
 is to say, I was onely religious to the goddesse Isis, but not HoM l the , 
 sacred to the religion of great Osiris, the soveraigne father fri^sofApu- 
 of all the goddesses, between whom, although there was a l e ius heard 
 religious unitie and concord, yet there was a great difference news that he 
 of order and ceremony. And because it was necessary v that wa . s a ' ive an( * 
 I should likewise be a minister unto Osiris, there was no long 
 delay : for in the night after, appeared unto me one of that 
 order, covered with linnen robes, holding in his hands 
 speares wrapped in Ivie, and other things not convenient 
 to declare, which then he left in my chamber, and sitting 
 in my seate, recited to me such things as were necessary 
 for the sumptuous banket of mine entrie. And to the end 
 I might know him againe, he shewed me how the ankle 
 of his left foote was somewhat maimed, which caused him 
 a little to halt. 
 
 After that I manifestly knew the will of the god Osiris, 
 when mattins was ended, I went from one to another, to 
 find him out which had the halting marke on his foote, 
 according as I learned by my vision ; at length I found it 
 true : for I perceived one of the company of the Priests who 
 had not onely the token of his foote, but the stature and 
 habite of his body, resembling in every point as he appeared 
 in the night : he was called Asinius Marcellus, a name not 
 much disagreeing from my transformation. By and by I went 
 to him, which knew well enough all the matter, as being 
 monished by like precept in the night : for the night before 
 as he dressed the flowers and garlands about the head of the 
 god Osiris, he understood by the mouth of the image which 
 told the predestinations of all men, how he had sent a poore 
 man of Madura, to whom he should minister his sacraments, 
 to the end hee should receive a reward by divine providence, 
 and the other glory, for his vertuous studies. When I saw 
 my selfe thus deputed unto religion, my desire was stopped 
 by reason of povertie, for I had spent a great part of my 
 goods in travell and peregrination, but most of all in the 
 Citie of Rome, whereby my low estate withdrew me a 
 great while. 
 
 247
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOKE 
 
 CHAPTER In the end being oft times stirred forward, not without 
 
 XLVIII great trouble of mind, I was constrained to sell my robe for 
 
 How the a \ftt\e money : howbeit sufficient for all my affaires. Then 
 
 frhmcteof ADU- ^ ne ^i 68 ^ s p a ke unto me saying, How is it that for a little 
 
 leius heard pleasure thou art not afraid to sell thy vestiments, and 
 
 news that he entring into so great ceremonies, fearest to fall into povertie ? 
 
 was alive and Prepare thy selfe, and abstaine from all animall meats, as 
 
 in health |j eas ^ s an( j fi^ j n the meane season I frequented the 
 
 sacrifices of Serapis, which were done in the night, which 
 
 thing gave me great comfort to my peregrination, and 
 
 ministred unto me more plentifull living, considering I 
 
 gained some money in haunting the court, by reason of my 
 
 Latin tongue. 
 
 Immediatly after I was eftsoones called and admonished 
 by the god Osiris, to receive a third order of religion. 
 Then I was greatly astonied, because I could not tell 
 what this new vision signified, or what the intent of the 
 celestiall god was, doubting least the former Priests had 
 given me ill counsell, and fearing that they had not faith- 
 fully instructed me : being in this manner as it were incensed 
 the god Osiris appeared to me the night following, and 
 giving me admonition said, There is no occasion why thou 
 shouldest be afraid with so often order of religion, as though 
 there were somewhat omitted, but that thou shouldest rather 
 rejoyce, since as it hath pleased the gods to call thee three 
 times, when as there was never yet any person that atchieved 
 to the order but once : wherefore thou maist thinke thy selfe 
 happy for so great benefits. And know thou that the 
 religion which thou must now receive, is right necessary, if 
 thou meane to persever in the worshipping of the goddesse, 
 and to make solempnity on the festivall day with the 
 blessed habite, which thing shall be a glory and renowne 
 to thee. 
 
 After this sort, the divine majesty perswaded me in my 
 sleepe, whereupon by and by I went towards the Priest, 
 and declared all that which I had seene, then I fasted ten 
 dayes according to the custome, and of mine owne proper 
 will I abstained longer then I was commanded : and verely 
 I did nothing repent of the paine which I had taken, and of 
 248
 
 OF LUCIUS APULEIUS 
 
 the charges which I was at, considering that the divine pro- CHAPTER 
 vidence had given me such an order, that I gained much 
 
 money in pleading of causes : Finally after a few dayes, 
 
 ,, J j r* j 1-1. x j- parents and 
 
 the great god Usiris appeared to me in the night, not dis- friendsofApu- 
 
 guised in any other forme, but in his owne essence, com- leius heard 
 mandina; me that I should be an Advocate in the court, news that he 
 
 1* A 
 
 and not feare the slander and envie of ill persons, which Wl ^ s Y lve j t j" 1 
 
 beare me stomacke and grudge by reason of my doctrine, 
 
 which I had gotten by much labour : moreover, he would 
 
 not that I should be any longer of the number of his 
 
 Priests, but he allotted me to be one of the Decurions 
 
 and Senatours : and after he appointed me a place 
 
 within the ancient pallace, which was erected in 
 
 the time of Silla, where I executed my office 
 
 in great joy with a shaven Crowne. 
 
 FINIS 
 
 249
 
 EDINBURGH 
 
 T. <& A. CONSTABLE 
 
 Printers to Her Majesty 
 
 1893
 
 UC8B LIBRAE
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Santa Barbara 
 
 THIS BOOK IS Dl'E ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 BEIURNED 01 
 
 NOV 
 
 100M 11/86 Series 9482
 
 
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