The golden ass of Apuleius

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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 quaint 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 set out njs 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 robbers1 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 warrant. '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 js 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 love1— 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 taste1 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 nokility 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 not 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 rendering1 : '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 fa}} of 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 great 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 saj(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 jjuj. ne that laughed before at his fellow, said againe,
reasoned5' 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 |ju^ 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 US8toneers '
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 presently came to my remembrance, shee gently entertained

from18 *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 f6^6 Durne RH his h°usej 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 jn tne}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, keePe men
and then I began to slumber. But alas, behold suddenly wakins-
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 thehowtheywere
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>Ito- 1 saw a^ ne^ Sa*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 my feare? 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^ey 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 knockefi aloud. 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^?sh hou£e> answered, I pray thee maid speake more gently, and tel me
him letters wnether 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 unt-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" and 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 shaked 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°mg t° »uy

as you shall goe with me : and to conhrme the same, hee ^^ Bmet witjj

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 and 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 ^f0^ AP"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 {joe ffreatiy tender your safety, and am as carefull for you

fortuned to .„ & * * i 11 i -u t r

meet with his ^ " you were mjne 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 with 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^jrrinpr 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 wjth 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 Sunto
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
Byr" by the waves of the seas and by the great tempests tossed
victuals Sunto 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 narcfly 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 yrl
. • j • ii • J . • j .1 . rtiena 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 atthe
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 wrong a£ anv mans 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 manner 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 ron 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 commest 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 jaw Qf death5 neither intend wee to deprive the earth of his

BvTrhenzTand "gnt? but to tne en(* this ^ac* may ^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 UpOn 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 wickeu1
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

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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 COU1J 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

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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

?OVt^PUleiU| ^ne city, in manner of those that go in procession, and do

put in prison sacr>ifice 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
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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

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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.jiree great theeves attempting to break down his walls and
was accused by .1 i i . A j u tu

an old man gates, 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 wjlo jg £ne occasion of all our sorrowes. When they had
wasaccuse^^y SpOken |;nese Words, 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
°Wders 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
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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 ^jere f?'jin1d

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
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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 ?otlf *old

i • u i 4- 4-ui t° Apulems,

chievous harlot, or rather slay me. what r witch-

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,

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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
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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 wjurt ^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 jove Qf 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,
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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

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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
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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 ie°dw 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^ gO£ me in^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 jn fae midd\e of a pillar sustaining the rafters of the stable

leA a\vav "by ^ne image °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

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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°\^puJei^S
over great hils out of the way. But I, what with my heavy turned1* 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 iustily 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 jegSj an(J by his 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 ku£ 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 naci 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.

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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 Upon 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
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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 crvmg» howling or any other meanes, but being torne with

Scares skin, dogs and wounded with weapons, did yeeld forth a dolefull

and how he Cry, more like unto a beast than a man. And taking his

was handled present 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 mitigate her sorrow by any entreaty of the old woman,

awaeaGent£ 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, THow the
kinsfolke and friends, and made sacrifice in the temples and ^^aGeSS1*
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 XXII
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 riage 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 cjent}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 (jear 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 mostd
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 have wept? then you should have sorrowed as though I had

delectable tale ^een ^eac^ : ^or now ^ see anc^ Perceive 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 Of 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 mldst 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 UpOn 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 ? Of 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 afflicted 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 unto 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 face? 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 Of 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 Psyches
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 Otners 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 nothing 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 Ps7clies
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 pu|- j^ under 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 Of 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 with thy selfe how I, little regarding the commande-

delectable tale ment 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 my selfe from heaven to love thee, and wounded myne owne

and Psyches ko(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 shee had declared all such things as she told to her other

The most sjsterj 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 caught 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 riage of Cupid
not despise or contemne the temples of any of the Gods, but and Psyches
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 ments 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 fnid
f • £ i i_j. j.i T -1.1 11 J delectable tale

reason or marriage, so finely wrought that neither gold nor Of 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 espying Psyches, cried with a loud voyce, saying : O wicked
electabletale narl°t 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 from thy body, thou shalt surely go to hell, but never to
delectable tele returne 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 nell, 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 Of 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 . ... ,, ,le> ,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 psyches 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 Of 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
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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 APuleius
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 aiready 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 i3^116 what thankes I will give : with what honour I will reward

and what™ a thee> and how l wiU use thee' First' l wil1 bravely 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 tnee 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
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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, byt"etheeves,
beating me cruelly with a great staff'e (that they had) full of kj,^ Of 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 my mjnci js 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 shall both sustaine all the punishments which you have

and wheatVea0rdained: 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 cnarge 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°°^ sp8-06) and 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 j1
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

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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 perswa(Jed 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 greater 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 sjlver &§ hee would. Then every one consented, that hee that
Miloe house seemed 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 pata 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 Jm- .' ,/ ,./. ,; , 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

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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 &reat ^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 marriage, 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- JJjjj1 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 well asleePe»
the fields to pasture, by the commandement of my master. ApuldiLTwas

0 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 fetci, 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 LeChery 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 .tlle ,
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 Qf wjckecl manners and conversation, he had the re-

dTdared6 the Pu^e an(^ was Pu^ °^ 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

le™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°ung
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 sjew jjg played 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?iu ptn(*- *"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
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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°unS
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 Jet 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°ung

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

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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(je relation 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 of their houses, who compassing us round about leaped

was lead away J • j • . u f\ • iU •

by the Horse- on every 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 forsaken of all men. And when many buiers came by and

bv^di'vere^p/r- l°°ked 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 HowApuleius
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 macl 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. S0ns, 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 tooke 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 anj 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

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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 empty 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 Wa7 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 sort that I could scarce come to the plaine

w^sofd tTa fie[d. Pathes- 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 wife, 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 b7 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 what 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 6over lfttter 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

hbPhouse and had °Pened 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- what 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

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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 cl°thes 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- nad 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 • j8 being
me poore Asse, and the other Horses the same time to the his wtfe, c°om-
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
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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 onejy 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
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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^™uSs ^
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 what 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

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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

ftW h n kUS ^or himselfe> much lesse had he any littor or place to cover

was handed me withall, 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 ,aP~ 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^d1"

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 JjaP~

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

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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 eares, 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}lould use your tyranny against the poore, when as the law
p -,aP~ 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
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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 2teJth 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 whatdreadfl
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.

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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
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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£js ^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°sWf^undeibS contention betweene the souldiers and our Host, for they
his shadow saj^ 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

A°i?nipf, v6 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- < nature, 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 and 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 haP~
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 kuy p0yson which he mingled with wine, to the intent he
souldier drave J ^ J • • > . ,u . j • i

Apuleiusaway, wou^" glve ^ *° «•* young 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 Apufefusaway6
proceed by examination of witnesses, and with order ofand 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 gave it me to give the child, which when I refused he

*M^ !^e °ffered it to his brother with his own hands. When the

Apuleiusaway6 vai>let 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 Wd&th ^ culpable, 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 *Jat 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 mimster a further cause of his mischiefe, either that he
Apuleiusaway, would 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 js of 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 fei}ow : is 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{\\ ]ge 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 nowbeit, 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^ my fame was Spred 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- yOU how 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 fgjj16 • arron
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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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
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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^ aj™g
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,

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CHAPTER but he yeelded up the ghost : And the other young man

XLVI lived not long after, but likewise dyed, amongst the feined

fr 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 tT?ow f, c.er"
offence, was condemned to be eaten with wild beasts. Behold fe le ^ aj™
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 aiove goates. 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
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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

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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 conclition, was preferred in Martiall prowesse above
tame Matron . .. ,,£, , . ,., , . ,

fell in love gre&^ 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

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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 ^JJ16 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

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CHAPTER the puissant Goddesse, saying : O blessed Queene of heaven,
XLVII whether thou be the Dame Ceres which art the originall and

by° Rostand motherly 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
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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°^spgle^
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

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CHAPTER the healthfull day which is ordained by my providence, there-
XLVII fore be ready to attend to my commandement. This day

How Apulems which shall 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,
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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 Layer68 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 " ^

OVR "H ant^ thither, you might see the pompe of the goddesse

prayer68 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 Layer68 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.

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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
prayer6 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 prayer68 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 5j *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.

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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 an7 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 went 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 fasni°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 leius 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 HoMl the ,
sacred to the religion of great Osiris, the soveraigne father fri^sofApu-
of all the goddesses, between whom, although there was a leius 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 ^i68^ spake 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 |jeas^s an(j fi^ jn 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^ sYlvejtj"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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