The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mediaeval Tales

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Title: Mediaeval Tales

Editor: Henry Morley

Release date: February 16, 2009 [eBook #28094]

Language: English

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This volume of "Mediæval Tales" is in four parts, containing severally, (1) Turpin's "History of Charles the Great and Orlando," which is an old source of Charlemagne romance; (2) Spanish Ballads, relating chiefly to the romance of Charlemagne, these being taken from the spirited translations of Spanish ballads published in 1823 by John Gibson Lockhart; (3) a selection of stories from the "Gesta Romanorum;" and (4) the old translation of the original story of Faustus, on which Marlowe founded his play, and which is the first source of the Faust legend in literature.


Turpin's "History of Charles the Great and Orlando" is given from a translation made by Thomas Rodd, and published by himself in 1812, of "Joannes Turpini Historia de Vita Caroli Magni et Rolandi." This chronicle, composed by some monk at an unknown date before the year 1122, professed to be the work of a friend and secretary of Charles the Great, Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, who was himself present in the scenes that he describes. It was--like Geoffrey of Monmouth's nearly contemporary "History of British Kings," from which were drawn tales of Gorboduc, Lear and King Arthur—romance itself, and the source of romance in others. It is at the root of many tales of Charlemagne and Roland that reached afterwards their highest artistic expression in Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso." The tale ascribed to Turpin is of earlier date than the year 1122, because in that year Pope Calixtus II. officially declared its authenticity. But it was then probably a new invention, designed for edification, for encouragement of faith in the Church, war against infidels, and reverence to the shrine of St. James of Compostella.

The Church vouched for the authorship of Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, "excellently skilled in sacred and profane literature, of a genius equally adapted to prose and verse; the advocate of the poor, beloved of God in his life and conversation, who often hand to hand fought the Saracens by the Emperor's side; and who flourished under Charles and his son Lewis to the year of our Lord eight hundred and thirty." But while this work gave impulse to the shaping of Charlemagne romances with Orlando (Roland) for their hero, there came to be a very general opinion that, whether the author of the book were Turpin or another, he too was a romancer. His book came, therefore, to be known as the "Magnanime Mensonge," a lie heroic and religious.

No doubt Turpin's "Vita Caroli Magni et Rolandi" was based partly on traditions current in its time. It was turned of old into French verse and prose; and even into Latin hexameters. The original work was first printed at Frankfort in 1566, in a collection of Four Chronographers—"Germanicarum Rerum." Mr. Rodd's translation, here given, was made from the copy of the original given in Spanheim's "Lives of Ecclesiastical Writers."


Publication of the songs and ballads of Spain began at Valencia in the year 1511 with a collection by Fernando del Castillo, who on his title-page professed to collect pieces "as well ancient as modern." From 1511 to 1573 there were nine editions of this "Cancionero." A later collection made between 1546 and 1550—The "Cancionero de Romances"—was made to consist wholly of ballads. A third edition of it, in 1555, is the fullest and best known. The greatest collection followed in nine parts, published separately between 1593 and 1597, at Valencia, Burgos, Toledo, Alcala, and Madrid. This formed the great collection known as the "Romancero General."


The chief hero of the Spanish Ballads is the Cid Campeador; and Robert Southey used these ballads as material for enriching the "Chronicle of the Cid," which has already been given in this Library. Songs of the Cid were sung as early as the year 1147, are of like date with the "Magnanime Mensonge" and Geoffrey of Monmouth's "History of British Kings." In 1248 St. Ferdinand gave allotments to two poets who had been with him during the Siege of Seville, and who were named Nicolas and Domingo Abod "of the Romances." There is also evidence from references to what "the juglares sing in their chants and tell in their tales," that in the middle of the thirteenth century tales of Charlemagne and of Bernardo del Carpio were familiar in the mouths of ballad-singers.

The whole number of the old ballads of Spain exceeds a thousand, and of these John Gibson Lockhart has translated some of the best into English verse. Lockhart was born in 1793, was the son of a Scottish minister, was educated at the Universities of Glasgow and Oxford, and was called to the bar at Edinburgh in 1816. Next year he was one of the keenest of the company of young writers whose genius and lively audacity established the success of "Blackwood's Magazine." Three years later, in 1820, he married the eldest daughter of Sir Walter Scott. Lockhart's vigorous rendering of the spirit of the Spanish Romances was first published in 1823, two years before he went to London to become editor of the "Quarterly Review." He edited the "Quarterly" for about thirty years, and died in 1854.


The "Gesta Romanorum;" is a mediæval compilation of tales that might be used to enforce and enliven lessons from the pulpit. Each was provided with its "Application." The French Dominican, Vincent of Beauvais, tells in his "Mirror of History" that in his time—the thirteenth century—it was the practice of preachers, to rouse languid hearers by quoting fables out of Æsop, and he recommends a sparing and discreet use of profane fancies in discussing sacred subjects. Among the Harleian MSS. is an ancient collection of 215 stories, romantic, allegorical and legendary, compiled by a preacher for the use of monastic societies. There were other such collections, but the most famous of all, widely used not only by the preachers but also by the poets, was the Latin story-book known as the "Gesta Romanorum." Its name, "Deeds of the Romans," was due to its fancy for assigning every story to some emperor who had or had not reigned in Rome; the emperor being a convenient person in the Application, which might sometimes begin with, "My beloved, the emperor is God." Perhaps the germ of the collection may have been a series of applied tales from Roman history. But if so, it was soon enriched with tales from the East, from the "Clericalis Disciplina," a work by Petrus Alfonsus, a baptized Jew who lived in 1106, and borrowed professedly from the Arabian fabulists. Mediæval tales of all kinds suitable for the purpose of the "Gesta Romanorum" were freely incorporated, and the book so formed became a well-known storehouse of material for poetic treatment. Gower, Shakespeare, Schiller are some of the poets who have used tales which are among the thirty given in this volume.

The "Gesta Romanorum" was first printed in 1473, and after that date often reprinted. It was translated into Dutch as early as the year 1484. There was a translation of forty-three of its tales into English, by Richard Robinson, published in 1577, of which there were six or seven editions during the next twenty-four years. A version of forty-five of its tales was published in 1648 as "A Record of Ancient Histories." The fullest English translation was that by the Rev. C. Swan, published in 1824. In this volume two or three tales are given in the earlier English form, the rest from Mr. Swan's translation, with a little revision of his English. Mr. Swan used Book English, and was apt to write "an instrument of agriculture" where he would have said "a spade." I give here thirty of the Tales, but of the "Applications" have left only enough to show how they were managed.


In the volume of this Library, which contains Marlowe's "Faustus" and Goethe's "Faust," reference has been made to the old German History of Faustus, first published at Frankfort in September 1587, and reprinted with slight change in 1588. There was again a reprint of it with some additions in 1589. This book was written by a Protestant in early days of the Reformation, but shaped by him from mediæval tales of magic, with such notions of demons and their home as had entered deeply in the Middle Ages into popular belief. From it was produced within two years of its first publication Marlowe's play of "Faustus," which has already been given, and that English translation of the original book which will be found in the present volume. It was reprinted by Mr. William J. Thoms in his excellent collection of "Early English Prose Romances," first published in 1828, of which there was an enlarged second edition, in three volumes, in 1858. That is a book of which all students of English literature would like to see a third and cheap edition.

H. M.

October 1884.



Turpin's History


Charles the Great and Orlando.






Charles the Great and Orlando.






Archbishop Turpin's Epistle to Leopander.

Turpin, by the grace of God, Archbishop of Rheims, the faithful companion of the Emperor Charles the Great in Spain, to Leopander, Dean of Aix-la-Chapelle, greeting.

Forasmuch as you requested me to write to you from Vienne (my wounds being now cicatrized) in what manner the Emperor Charles delivered Spain and Gallicia from the yoke of the Saracens, you shall attain the knowledge of many memorable events, and likewise of his praiseworthy trophies over the Spanish Saracens, whereof I myself was eyewitness, traversing France and Spain in his company for the space of forty years; and I hesitate the less to trust these matters to your friendship, as I write a true history of his warfare. For indeed all your researches could never have enabled you fully to discover those great events in the Chronicles of St. Denis, as you sent me word: neither could you for certain know whether the author had given a true relation of those matters, either by reason of his prolixity, or that he was not himself present when they happened. Nevertheless this book will agree with his history. Health and happiness.



How Charles the Great delivered Spain and Gallicia
from the Saracens.

The most glorious Christian Apostle St. James, when the other Apostles and Disciples of our Lord were dispersed abroad throughout the whole world, is believed to have first preached the gospel in Gallicia. After his martyrdom, his servants, rescuing his body from King Herod, brought it by sea to Gallicia, where they likewise preached the gospel. But soon after, the Gallicians, relapsing into great sins, returned to their former idolatry, and persisted in it till the time of Charles the Great, Emperor of the Romans, French, Germans, and other nations. Charles therefore, after prodigious toils in Saxony, France, Germany, Lorraine, Burgundy, Italy, Brittany, and other countries; after taking innumerable cities from sea to sea, which he won by his invincible arm from the Saracens, through divine favour; and after subjugating them with great fatigue of mind and body to the Christian yoke, resolved to rest from his wars in peace.

But observing the starry way in the heavens, beginning at the Friezeland sea, and passing over the German territory and Italy, between Gaul and Aquitaine, and from thence in a straight line over Gascony, Bearne, and Navarre, and through Spain to Gallicia, wherein till his time lay undiscovered the body of St. James; when night after night he was wont to contemplate it, meditating upon what it might signify, a certain beautiful resplendent vision appeared to him in his sleep, and, calling him son, inquired what he was attempting to discover. At which Charles replied, "Who art thou, Lord?" "I am," answered the vision, "St. James the Apostle, Christ's disciple, the son of Zebedee, and brother of John the Evangelist, whom the Lord was pleased to think worthy, in his ineffable goodness, to elect on the sea of Galilee to preach the gospel to his people, but whom Herod the King slew. My body now lies concealed in Gallicia, long so grievously oppressed by the Saracens, from whose yoke I am astonished that you, who have conquered so many lands and cities, have not yet delivered it. Wherefore I come to warn you, as God has given you power above every other earthly prince, to prepare my way, and rescue my dominions from the Moabites, that so you may receive a brighter crown of glory for your reward. The starry way in the heavens signifies that you, with a great army, will enter Gallicia to fight the Pagans, and, recovering it from them, will visit my church and shrine; and that all the people from the borders of the sea, treading in your steps, will ask pardon of God for their sins, and return in safety, celebrating his praise; that you likewise will acknowledge the wonders he hath done for you in prolonging your life to its present span. Proceed then as soon as you are ready; I am your friend and helper; your name shall become famous to all eternity, and a crown of glory shall be your reward in heaven."

Thus did the blessed Apostle appear thrice to the Emperor, who, confiding in his word, assembled a great army, and entered Spain to fight the infidels.



Of the Walls of Pampeluna, that fell of themselves.

The first city Charles besieged was Pampeluna; he invested it three months, but was not able to take it, through the invincible strength of the walls. He then made this prayer to God: "O Lord Jesus Christ, for whose faith I am come hither to fight the Pagans; for thy glory's sake deliver this city into my hands; and O blessed St. James, if thou didst indeed appear to me, help me to take it." And now God and St. James, hearkening to his petition, the walls utterly fell to the ground of themselves; but Charles spared the lives of the Saracens that consented to be baptized; the rest he put to the edge of the sword. The report of this miracle induced all their countrymen to surrender their cities, and consent to pay tribute to the Emperor. Thus was the whole land soon subdued.

The Saracens were amazed to see the French well clothed, accomplished in their manners and persons, and strictly faithful to their treaties; they gave them therefore a peaceful and honourable reception, dismissing all thoughts of war. The Emperor, after frequently visiting the shrine of St. James, came to Ferrol, and, fixing his lance in the sea, returned thanks to God and the Apostle for having brought him to this place, though he could then proceed no further.

The Pagan nations, after the first preaching of St. James and his disciples, were converted by Archbishop Turpin, and by the grace of God baptized; but those who refused to embrace the faith were either slain or made slaves by the Christians. Turpin then traversed all Spain from sea to sea.



Of the idol Mahomet.

The Emperor utterly destroyed the idols and images in Spain, except the idol in Andalusia, called Salamcadis. Cadis properly signifies the place of an island, but in Arabic it means God. The Saracens had a tradition that the idol Mahomet, which they worshipped, was made by himself in his lifetime; and that by the help of a legion of devils it was by magic art endued with such irresistible strength, that it could not be broken. If any Christian approached it he was exposed to great danger; but when the Saracens came to appease Mahomet, and make their supplications to him, they returned in safety. The birds that chanced to light upon it were immediately struck dead.

There is, moreover, on the margin of the sea an ancient stone excellently sculptured after the Saracenic fashion; broad and square at the bottom, but tapering upward to the height that a crow generally flies, having on the top an image of gold, admirably cast in the shape of a man, standing erect, with a certain great key in his hand, which the Saracens say was to fall to the ground immediately after the birth of a King of Gaul, who would overrun all Spain with a Christian army, and totally subdue it. Wherefore it was enjoined them, whenever that happened, to fly the country, and bury their jewels in the earth.



Of the Churches the King built.

Charles remained three years in these parts, and with the gold given him by the kings and princes greatly enlarged the church of the blessed St. James, appointing an Abbot and Canons of the order of St. Isidore, martyr and confessor, to attend it: he enriched it likewise with bells, books, robes, and other gifts. With the residue of the immense quantity of gold and silver, he built many churches on his return from Spain; namely, of the blessed Virgin in Aix-la-Chapelle, of St. James in Thoulouse, and another in Gascony, between the city commonly called Aix, after the model of St. John's at Cordova, in the Jacobine road; the church likewise of St. James at Paris, between the river Seine and Montmartre, besides founding innumerable abbeys in all parts of the world.



Of the King's Return to France, and of Argolander,
King of the Africans.

After the King's return from Spain, a certain Pagan King, called Argolander, recovered the whole country with his army, driving the Emperor's soldiers from the towns and garrisons, which led him to march back his troops, under their General, Milo de Angleris.



Of the false Executor.

But the judgment inflicted on a false executor deserves to be recorded, as a warning to those who unjustly pervert the alms of the deceased. When the King's army lay at Bayonne, a certain soldier, called Romaricus, was taken grievously ill, and, being at the point of death, received the eucharist and absolution from a priest, bequeathing his horse to a certain kinsman, in trust, to dispose of for the benefit of the priest and the poor. But when he was dead his kinsman sold it for a hundred pence, and spent the money in debauchery. But how soon does punishment follow guilt! Thirty days had scarcely elapsed when the apparition of the deceased appeared to him in his sleep, uttering these words: "How is it you have so unjustly misapplied the alms entrusted to you for the redemption of my soul? Do you not know they would have procured the pardon of my sins from God? I have been punished for your neglect thirty days in fire; to-morrow you shall be plunged in the same place of torment, but I shall be received into Paradise." The apparition then vanished, and his kinsman awoke in extreme terror.

On the morrow, as he was relating the story to his companions, and the whole army was conversing about it, on a sudden a strange uncommon clamour, like the roaring of lions, wolves, and calves, was heard in the air, and immediately a troop of demons seized him in their talons, and bore him away alive. What further? Horse and foot sought him four days together in the adjacent mountains and valleys to no purpose; but the twelfth day after, as the army was marching through a desert part of Navarre, his body was found lifeless, and dashed to pieces, on the summit of some rocks, a league above the sea, about four days' journey from the city. There the demons left the body, bearing the soul away to hell. Let this be a warning, then, to all that follow his example to their eternal perdition.



Of the War of the Holy Facundus, where the Spears grew.

Charles and Milo, his General, now marched after Argolander into Spain, and found him in the fields of the river, where a castle stands in the meadows, in the best part of the whole plain, where afterwards a church was built in honour of the blessed martyrs Facundus and Primitivus; where likewise their bodies rest, an abbey was founded, and a city built. When the King's army advanced, Argolander wished to decide the contest by set combat between twenties, forties, hundreds, thousands, or even by two champions only. Charles willingly consented, and marched a hundred of his soldiers against a hundred Saracens, when all of them were slain. Argolander then sent two hundred, who shared the same fate. Two thousand were then led against two thousand, part of whom were slain, and the rest fled. But on the third day Argolander cast lots, and, knowing that evil fortune threatened the Emperor, sent him word he would draw out his whole army on the open plain, on the morrow, which challenge was accepted.

Then did this miracle happen. Certain of the Christians, who carefully had been furbishing their arms against the day of battle, fixed their spears in the evening erect in the ground before the castle in the meadow, near the river, and found them early in the morning covered with bark and branches. Those, therefore, that were about to receive the palm of martyrdom were greatly astonished at this event, ascribing it to divine power. Then cutting off their spears close to the ground, the roots that remained shot out afresh, and became lofty trees, which may be still seen flourishing there, chiefly ash. All this denoted joy to the soul, but loss to the body; for now the battle commenced, and forty thousand Christians were slain, together with Milo, their General, the father of Orlando. The King's horse was likewise slain under him; but Charles resolutely continued the fight on foot, and with two thousand Christians gallantly hewed his way through the Saracens, cleaving many of them asunder from the shoulders to the waist.

The following day both Christians and Saracens remained quietly in their camps, but the day after four Marquisses brought four thousand fresh troops from Italy to the King's assistance; whereupon Argolander retreated with his army to Leon, and Charles led back his forces to France.

And here it is proper to observe we should strive for Christ's blessing; for as the soldiers prepared their arms against the day of battle, so we in like manner should prepare ours, namely, our virtues to resist our passions. For he that would oppose faith to infidelity, brotherly love to hatred, charity to avarice, humility to pride, chastity to lust, prayer to temptation, perseverance to instability, peace to strife, obedience to a carnal disposition, must fortify his soul with grace, and prepare his spear to flourish against the day of judgment. Triumphant indeed will he be in heaven who conquers on earth! As the King's soldiers died for their faith, so should we die to sin, and live in holiness in this world, that we may receive the palm of glory in the next, which shall be the reward of those who fight manfully against their three grand adversaries, the World, the Flesh, and the Devil.



Of King Argolander's Army.

Argolander now assembled together innumerable nations of Saracens, Moors, Moabites, Parthians, Africans, and Persians: Texephin, King of Arabia; Urabell, King of Alexandria; Avitus, King of Bugia; Ospin, King of Algarve; Facin, King of Barbary; Ailis, King of Malclos; Manuo, King of Mecca; Ibrahim, King of Seville; and Almanzor, King of Cordova. Then, marching to the city of Agen, he took it, and sent word to Charles he would give him sixty horse-load of gold, silver, and jewels, if he would acknowledge his right to the sceptre. But Charles returned this answer, "that he would acknowledge him no otherwise than by slaying him whenever it should be his chance to meet him in battle."

The Emperor had by this time approached within four miles of Agen, when, secretly dismissing his army, he proceeded with only sixty soldiers to the mountain near the city. There he left them, and changing his dress, came with his shield reversed, after the custom of messengers in time of war, accompanied by one soldier only to the city; and when the people inquired his business, he informed them he had brought a message from King Charles to Argolander, whereupon he was admitted into his presence, and addressed him in these words: "My King bids me say, you may expect to see him, provided you will come out with only sixty of your people to meet him." Now Argolander little thought it was Charles himself to whom he was speaking, who all the while took especial note of his person, and of the weakest parts of the walls of the city, as well as of the auxiliary kings that were then within it. Argolander then armed himself, and Charles rejoined his sixty soldiers, and soon after the two thousand that at first accompanied him. But Argolander came out with seven thousand men, thinking to slay the Emperor, but was himself compelled to fly.

The King then recruited his army, and besieged the city for six months. On the seventh his battering rams, wooden castles, and other engines, were ready to storm it; but Argolander and the rest of the Kings made their escape in the night through the common sewers, and, passing up the Garonne, got clear off. Charles entered the city in triumph the next day, and slew ten thousand of the remaining Saracens.



Of the City of Xaintonge, where the Spears grew.

Argolander now came to Xaintonge, at that time under the dominion of the Saracens; but Charles pursuing him, summoned him to restore the city, which Argolander refused, resolving first to fight, and that it should be the conqueror's reward. But on the eve of battle, when the battering rams were ready to attack the castle in the meadows, called Taleburg, and that part of the city near the river Carenton, certain of the Christians fixed their spears in the ground before the castle, and on the morrow found them covered with bark and branches. Those therefore that were to receive the crown of martyrdom perished in the fight, after slaying a multitude of the Saracens, namely, about four thousand men. The King's horse was likewise slain under him, but valiantly placing himself at the head of his infantry, he slew so many of his enemies that they were forced back into the city, which Charles invested on every side but the river, through which Argolander made his escape, with the loss of the Kings of Algarve and Bugia, and about four thousand of his army.



Of Argolander's Flight, and of the King's Warriors.

Argolander fled beyond the passes of the Pyrenees, and came to Pampeluna, where he sent Charles word he would stay for him. Charles then returned to France, and with the utmost diligence summoned his troops from all parts to his assistance, proclaiming free pardon to all banished persons, on condition they would join him against the Pagans. What further? He liberated all the prisoners; made the poor rich; clothed the naked; reconciled the disaffected; bestowed honours on the disinherited; preferred the most experienced to the best commands; making friends of enemies, and associating both the civilized and the barbarian in the war of Spain, uniting them through the favour of God in the bond of love. Then did I, Turpin, absolve them from their sins, and give them my benediction.

These are the names of the warriors that attended the King:—Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, who by the precepts of Christ, and for his faith's sake, brought the people to fight valiantly, fighting likewise himself hand to hand with the Saracens. Orlando, General of the whole army, Count of Mans and Lord of Guienne, the King's nephew, son of Milo de Angleris and Bertha the King's sister. His soldiers were four thousand. Another Orlando likewise, of whom we are silent. Oliver, a General also, and a valiant soldier, renowned for strength and skill in war, led three thousand troops. Aristagnus, King of Brittany, seven thousand. Another King of Brittany, of whom little mention is made. Angelerus, Duke of Aquitaine, brought four thousand valiant bowmen. At this time likewise there was in the city of Poictiers another Duke of Aquitaine, but Angelerus was the son of Gascon, Duke of the city of Aquitaine, lying between Limorge, Bourges, and Poictiers, which city Augustus Cæsar founded; and the rest of the cities, as well as Xaintonge and Angoulême, with their provinces, were subject to it; the whole country was also called Aquitaine. But after the death of its lord, who perished with all his people in the fatal battle of Ronceval, it was never fresh colonized, and fell utterly to ruin.

Gayfere, King of Bordeaux, led three thousand warriors. Galerus, Galinus Solomon, Estolfo's friend and companion; Baldwin, Orlando's brother, Galdebode, King of Friezeland, led seven thousand heroes; Ocellus, Count of Nantes, two thousand, who achieved many memorable actions, celebrated in songs to this day. Lambert, Count of Berry, led two thousand men. Rinaldo of the White Thorn, Vulterinus Garinus, Duke of Lorraine, four thousand. Hago, Albert of Burgundy, Berard de Miblis, Gumard, Esturinite, Theodoric, Juonius, Beringaire, Hato, and Ganalon, who afterwards proved the traitor, attended the King into Spain. The army of the King's own territory was forty thousand horse and foot innumerable.

These were all famous heroes and warriors, mighty in battle, illustrious in worldly honour, zealous soldiers of Christ, that spread his name far and near, wherever they came. For even as our Lord and his twelve Apostles subdued the world by their doctrine, so did Charles, King of the French and Emperor of the Romans, recover Spain to the glory of God. And now the troops, assembling in Bordeaux, overspread the country for the space of two days' journey, and the noise they made was heard at twelve miles distance. Arnold of Berlanda first traversed the pass of the Pyrenees, and came to Pampeluna. Then came Astolfo, followed by Aristagnus; Angelerus, Galdebode, Ogier the King, and Constantine, with their several divisions. Charles and his troops brought up the rear, covering the whole land from the river of Rume to the mountains, that lie three leagues beyond them on the Compostella road. They now halted for eight days. In the interval Charles sent Argolander word, if he would restore the city he had built, he would return home, or otherwise wage cruel war against him: but Argolander, finding he could not keep possession of the city, resolved to march out, rather than tamely perish in it. Charles then granted him a truce to draw out his army and prepare for battle; expressing moreover his willingness to see him face to face, as Argolander wished.



Of the Truce, and of the Discourse between the King and Argolander.

A truce thus being granted, Argolander drew out his people from the city, and attended by sixty guards came into the King's presence, who was at this time encamped about a mile from Pampeluna. The two armies occupied a spacious plain six miles square, separated by the main road to Compostella.

When Charles perceived Argolander, he addressed him in these words:

"You are, then, he that have fraudulently taken possession of my territories in Spain and Gascony, which I conquered by the favour of God, and reduced to the faith of Christ. You have perverted the princes from my allegiance, and slain the Christians with the edge of the sword. Availing yourself of my return to Gaul, you have destroyed my towns and castles, and laid waste the territory with fire and sword. At present, therefore, you have the advantage of me."

Now when Argolander heard the King speak in the Arabic tongue, he was greatly pleased and astonished, for Charles had learnt it in his youth in the city of Thoulouse, where he had spent some time. Argolander then answered in these terms: "I wonder you should reason thus, for the territory did not belong to you; neither was it your father's, grandfather's, or great-grandfather's. Why then did you take possession of it?" "Because," replied Charles, "our Lord Jesus Christ, the creator of heaven and earth, elected us in preference to others, and gave us dominion over all the earth: therefore I endeavoured to convert the Saracens to the Christian faith."—"It would be unworthy of us to submit to you," rejoined Argolander, "when our own faith is best. We have Mahomet, a prophet of God, whose precepts we obey. Therefore we have a powerful God, who through his prophet has declared his will, and by him we live and reign." "O Argolander," said the King, "how widely do you err! You follow the vain precepts of a man; we believe and worship Father, Son, and Holy Ghost: you worship mortal man. After death our souls are received into Paradise, and enjoy everlasting life, but yours descend to the abyss of hell. Wherefore our faith is evidently best. Accept then baptism, or fight and perish."

"Far be it from me," said Argolander, "to accept baptism, and deny Mahomet and my God! But I will fight you on these terms: if your faith is best, you shall gain the victory, otherwise heaven shall give it to me; and let shame be the portion of the conquered, but eternal glory reward the conqueror. Furthermore, if my people are subdued, and I survive the contest, I will receive baptism."

These terms being mutually agreed, twenty Christians were sent against twenty Saracens, and the battle commenced. What further? Nearly all the Saracens fell. Forty were then sent against forty, and they were defeated also. A hundred then fought together; but the Saracens turned their backs from the face of the Christians, and were all slain. Are not these Christians then types for us? Does it not argue that we likewise should fight manfully against our sins; should face our spiritual enemies, and never ignobly yield to them, since they will infallibly lead us into perdition? He only, says the Apostle, shall receive the crown that fights the good fight, and overcomes.

Two hundred Saracens were then sent out, and were all slain; lastly a thousand, who shared the same fate. A truce being then granted, Argolander promised to be baptized on the morrow with all his people, and, calling his Kings and Captains together, told them his intention, to which they likewise assented, few only refusing to follow his example.



Of the King's Banquet, and of the Poor, at whom Argolander took
so great Offence that he refused to be Baptized.

On the third day Argolander attended the King, as he promised, and found him at dinner. Many tables were spread at which the guests were sitting; some in military uniform; some in black; some in Priests' habits; which Argolander perceiving, inquired what they were? "Those you see in robes of one colour," replied the King, "are priests and bishops of our holy religion, who expound the gospel to us, absolve us from our offences, and bestow heavenly benediction. Those in black are monks and abbots; all of them holy men, who implore incessantly the divine favour in our behalf." But in the meantime Argolander espying thirty poor men in mean habiliments, without either table or table-cloth, sitting and eating their scanty meals upon the ground, he inquired what they were? "These," replied the King, "are people of God, the messengers of our Lord Jesus, whom in his and his Apostles names we feed daily." Argolander then made this reply: "The guests at your table are happy; they have plenty of the best food set before them; but those you call the messengers of God, whom you feed in his name, are ill fed, and worse clothed, as if they were of no estimation. Certainly he must serve God but indifferently who treats his messengers in this manner, and thus do you prove your religion false." Argolander then refused to be baptized, and, returning to his army, prepared for battle on the morrow.

Charles, seeing the mischief his neglect of these poor men had occasioned, ordered them to be decently clothed and better fed. Here then we may note the Christian incurs great blame who neglects the poor. If Charles, from inattention to their comfort, thereby lost the opportunity of converting the Saracens, what will be the lot of those who treat them still worse? They will hear this sentence pronounced—"Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire; for I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat; naked, and ye clothed me not."

We must consider likewise that our faith in Christ is of little value without good works. As the body, says the Apostle, without the soul is dead, so is faith dead if it produce not good fruit. And as the Pagan King refused baptism because he found something wrong after it, so our Lord, I fear, will refuse our baptism at the day of judgment if superfluity of faults be found in us.



Of the Battle of Pampeluna, and Argolander's Death.

Both armies now prepared for battle in the morning, contending for their different faiths. The King mustered one hundred and thirty thousand men, but Argolander only one hundred thousand. The Christians formed themselves into four squadrons; the Saracens into five; whose first corps being speedily discomfited, they all joined in one phalanx, with Argolander in the midst. The Christians then surrounded them on all sides. First Arnaldo de Berlanda and his troops; then Astolfo; next Aristagnus, Galdebode, Ogier, and Constantine; lastly the King himself, and his innumerable warriors. Arnaldo was the first that broke in upon the enemy, overthrowing them right and left till he reached Argolander himself in the centre, and slew him with his own hand. Then ensued a great shout, and the Christians, rushing in upon the Saracens, slew them on all sides, making so great a slaughter that none escaped but the Kings of Seville and Cordova, and a few of their troops. So great, indeed, was the effusion of blood, that the Christians waded in it to their very knees. They slew likewise all the Saracens left in the city. Charles fought for the faith, and therefore triumphed over Argolander. Note then, O Christian, that whatsoever thou undertakest thou likewise shalt accomplish if thou hast faith, for all things are possible to them that believe. Greatly rejoiced at this victory, the King marched forward, and came to the bridge of Arge in the Compostella road.



Of the Christians that returned unlawfully to Spoil the Dead.

Certain of the Christians however, coveting the spoils of the dead, returned that same night to the field of battle, and loaded themselves with heaps of gold and silver. But as they were returning to the camp, Almanzor, King of Cordova, who had fled for refuge to the mountains with the Saracens that made their escape, came pouring down, and slew them all to the number of a thousand men. These, then, are types of such as strive against sin, but afterwards relapse; who, when they have overcome, continue not stedfast, but seek unlawful pleasures, suffering themselves to be mastered in turn by their grand adversary. So likewise the religious, that forsake their vocations to re-engage in worldly concerns and profits, lose the reward of eternal life, and entail upon themselves everlasting perdition.



Of the War of Furra.

The day after the King was informed that a certain King of Navarre, called Furra, designed to fight him at Mount Garzim. Charles therefore prepared for battle; but desiring to know who should perish in it, he entreated the Lord to show him; whereupon in the morning a red cross appeared on their shoulders behind. In order therefore to preserve them, he confined them in his Oratory. Then joining battle, Furra and three thousand of his troops were slain. These were all Saracens of Navarre. The King now returned to his Oratory, but found them all dead that he had left in it, to the number of one hundred and fifty men.

"O holy band of Christian warriors, though the sword slew you not, yet did you not lose the palm of victory, or the prize of martyrdom!" Charles then made himself master of the mountain and castle of Garzim, and subdued the whole country of Navarre.



Of the War with Ferracute,
and of Orlando's admirable Dispute with him.

Charles now received news that a certain Giant, of the name of Ferracute, of the race of Goliath, was come to Nager, sent thither by Admiraldus, with twenty thousand Turks of Babylon, to fight him. This Giant neither feared spear nor dart, and was stronger than forty men. Charles therefore marched to Nager, and Ferracute, hearing of his arrival, sallied out from the city to challenge any warrior to single combat.

Charles then sent Ogier the Dacian, whom the Giant no sooner perceived, than, leisurely approaching, he caught him up under his right arm, as easily as he would a lamb, and bore him off in sight of all his friends to the city; for the Giant's stature was twelve cubits; his face a cubit long; his nose a palm; his arms and thighs four cubits; and his fingers three palms in length.

Rinaldo of the White Thorn was next sent against him, but he seized him in like manner, and imprisoned him with Ogier. The King then sent Constantine and Ocellus, but, seizing one under each arm, he bore them off likewise. He then sent twenty warriors by pairs against him, but they shared the same fate. Charles dared not then venture to send more warriors: but Orlando with the King's permission approached the Giant, who seized him instantly by the right arm, and seated him upon his steed before him.

But as he was bearing him to the city, Orlando, recovering his strength, and trusting in the Almighty, seized the Giant by the beard, and tumbled him from his horse, so that both came to the ground together. Orlando, then, thinking to slay the Giant, drew his sword, and struck at him, but the blow fell upon his steed, and pierced him through. The Giant being thus on foot, drew his enormous sword, which Orlando perceiving, who had remounted his own charger, struck him on the sword arm, and, though he did not wound him, struck the sword out of his hand; which greatly enraging Ferracute, he aimed a blow at Orlando with his fist, but, missing him, hit his horse on the forehead, and laid him dead on the spot. And now the fight lasted till noon with fists and stones. The Giant then demanded a truce till next day, agreeing to meet Orlando without horse or spear. Each warrior then retired to his post.

Next morning they accordingly met once more. The Giant brought a sword, but Orlando a long staff to ward off the Giant's blows, who wearied himself to no purpose. They now began to batter each other with stones, that lay scattered about the field, till at last the Giant begged a second truce, which being granted, he presently fell fast asleep upon the ground. Orlando, taking a stone for a pillow, quietly laid himself down also. For such was the law of honour between the Christians and Saracens at that time, that no one on any pretence dared to take advantage of his adversary before the truce was expired, as in that case his own party would have slain him.

When Ferracute awoke, he found Orlando awake also, who thereupon rose, and seated himself by the Giant's side, inquiring how it came to pass he was so very strong? "Because," replied the Giant, "I am only vulnerable in the navel." Ferracute spoke in the Spanish language, which Orlando understanding tolerably well, a conversation now followed between them, which Ferracute recommenced by inquiring his name, which Orlando told him. "And what race are you of?" said the Giant. "Of the race of the Franks."—"What law do you follow?" "The law of Christ, so far as his grace permits me."—"Who is this Christ in whom you profess to believe?" "The Son of God, born of a Virgin, who took upon him our nature, was crucified for us, rose again from the dead, and ascended into heaven, where he sitteth on the right hand of his Father."

"We believe," said Ferracute, "that the Creator of heaven and earth is one God, and that, as he was not made himself, so cannot another God spring from him. There is therefore only one God, not three, as I understand you Christians profess." "You say well," said Orlando; "there is but one God, but your faith is imperfect; for as the Father is God, so likewise is the Son, and so is the Holy Ghost. Three persons, but one God."—"Nay," said Ferracute: "if each of these three persons be God, there must be three Gods."

"By no means," replied Orlando; "he is both three and one. The three persons are co-eternal and co-equal. There is indeed distinction of person, but unity of essence, and equality of majesty. Abraham saw three, but worshipped one. Let us recur to natural things. When the harp sounds, there is the art, the strings, and the hand, yet but one harp. In the almond there is the shell, the coat, and the kernel. In the sun, the body, the beams, and the heat. In the wheel, the centre, the spokes, and the nave. In you, likewise, there is the body, the members, and the soul. In like manner may Trinity in Unity be ascribed to God."

"I now comprehend," replied Ferracute, "how God may be three in one, but I know not how he begot the Son." "Do you," answered Orlando, "believe that God made Adam?"—"I do." "Adam himself was not, then, born of any, and yet he begot sons. So God the Father is born of none, yet of his own ineffable grace begot the Son from all eternity."—"Your arguments," said the Giant, "please me exceedingly, but still I am at a loss to know how he that was God became man." "The Creator of heaven and earth, who made all things out of nothing, could certainly," said Orlando, "engender his Son of a pure Virgin, by divine afflation."—"There lies the difficulty," returned Ferracute, "how without human aid, as you affirm, he could spring from the womb." "Surely," said Orlando, "God, who formed Adam from no seed, could form his Son in like manner; and as from God the Father he was without Mother, so from his Mother did he spring without an earthly Father."—"It makes me blush," said the Giant, "to think that a virgin should conceive without a man." "He," answered Orlando, "that causes the worm in the bean, and many species of birds, beasts, and serpents, to engender without the help of the male, could procure God and Man of a pure Virgin without the help of Man. For as his power enabled him to produce the first man from the ground, so could he produce the second from a virgin."—"I grant it," replied the Giant; "he might be born of a virgin; but if he was the Son of God, how could he die, for God never dies?" "That indeed is true," said Orlando; "as God, he could not die; but when he took our nature upon him, and was made man, he became subject to death, for every man dies. As we believe his nativity, so may we likewise believe his passion and resurrection."

"And what is it we are to believe of his resurrection?" inquired Ferracute. "That he died, and rose again the third day."—The Giant, hearing this, was greatly astonished, and exclaimed to Orlando, "Why do you talk so idly? It is impossible that a man, after he is once dead, can return to life again." "Not only did the Son of God rise from the dead," replied Orlando, "but all the men that have died since the creation of the world shall rise again, and appear before his tribunal, where they shall be rewarded everyone according to his deeds, whether they be good or evil. That God, who makes the tree spring from the soil, and the grain of wheat to rot in the ground, that it may revive with fresh increase, can at the last day clothe the souls of men with their own bodies, and restore them to life. Take the mystic example of the lion, which on the third day revives his dead cubs with his breath by licking them. What wonder, then, that God should after three days revive his Son? Nor ought it to seem strange that, as the Son of God rose from the dead, many others of the dead should rise even before his own resurrection. If Elijah and Elisha by the power of God could perform this miracle, how much more easily could the Father restore the Son, whom it was indeed impossible that Death could retain in his fetters. Death fled at his sight, as he shall fly likewise at the sound of his voice, when the whole phalanx of the dead shall rise again."—"Enough," said Ferracute, "I clearly perceive all this; but how could he ascend into heaven?" "He that descended," answered Orlando, "could easily ascend. He that rose of himself could enter the skies in triumph. Does not the wheel of the mill descend low, and return to its height again? Does not the bird in the air ascend and descend? Can you not yourself come down from a mountain, and return thither? Did not the sun yesterday rise in the east and set in the west, and yet rise again in the east to-day? To that place from whence the Son of God descended, did he likewise ascend."

"Well," said Ferracute, "to end our arguments, I will fight you on these terms: If the faith you profess be the true faith, you shall conquer; otherwise the victory shall be mine; and let the issue be eternal honour to the conqueror, but dishonour to the vanquished." "Be it so!" said Orlando: whereupon they immediately fell to blows. But the very first which the Giant aimed at him would have certainly been fatal, if Orlando had not nimbly leaped aside, and caught it on his staff, which was however cut in twain. The Giant, seeing his advantage, then rushed in upon him, and both came to the ground together. Orlando then, finding it impossible to escape, instantly implored the divine assistance, and, feeling himself re-invigorated, sprung upon his feet, when, seizing the Giant's sword, he thrust it into his navel, and made his escape. Ferracute, finding himself mortally wounded, called aloud upon Mahomet; which the Saracens hearing, sallied from the city, and bore him off in their arms. Orlando returned safe to the camp; the Christians then boldly attacked the city, and carried it by storm. The Giant and his people were slain, his castle taken, and all the Christian warriors liberated.



The War of the Masks.

Soon after the Emperor heard that Ibrahim, King of Seville, and Almanzor, who escaped from the battle of Pampeluna, had gathered together at Cordova a body of troops from seven1 of the neighbouring cities of Seville. Thither then did the King pursue his march with six thousand men, and found the Saracens, ten thousand strong, about three miles from the city. The King formed his army into three divisions. The first composed of his best troops, all cavalry; the two last, foot. The Saracens formed theirs in a similar manner. But when the King in person advanced against the first squadrons of Pagans, he found them all disguised in bearded masks, with horns upon their heads, like demons, making so strange a din with their hands upon their drums and other instruments, that the horses were terrified, and galloped back in spite of all their riders could do to prevent them. Whereupon the foot retreated likewise to an adjacent mountain, where, uniting in one squadron, they stopped for the Saracens, who would then advance no further, but gave our people time to pitch their tents, and encamp that night.

Charles then called a council of his captains, and agreed to tie bandages over their horses' eyes, and to stuff their ears, in order to disconcert this stratagem on the morrow. Admirable experiment! For now we fought the enemy from morning till night, and slew a great number, though it was by no means a general slaughter; for the Saracens, again joining in martial array, brought forward a castle, drawn by eight oxen, with a certain red banner waving upon it, which so long as they saw present, it was their rule never to fly. The King, knowing this, armed himself with a strong breast-plate, a mighty spear, and invincible sword, and, aided by divine assistance, hewed his way through his enemies, overturning them to right and left, till he reached the car, when, cutting the flag-pole with his sword, the Saracens instantly fled in all directions. Prodigious shouts were made by both armies. We then slew eight thousand Moors, together with Ibrahim, King of Seville. Almanzor made good his retreat into the city, but submitted to Charles the day after, consenting to be baptized, and to do homage for his dominions.

The King now divided the conquered countries of Spain amongst his soldiers. Navarre and Bearn he gave to the inhabitants of Brittany; Castile to the Franks; Nadres and Saragossa to the Apulians; Arragon to the Ponthieuse; Andalusia, on the sea-coast, to the Germans; and Portugal to the Dacians and Flemings. But the French would not settle in the mountain parts of Gallicia. Thus there seemed to be no more foes in Spain to hurt the Emperor.



Of the Council the Emperor summoned; and of his
Journey to Compostella.

Charles then sent away the greatest part of his troops, and came to Gallicia, where he behaved very liberally to the Christians he found there, but either put to death or banished those that had revolted to the Moorish faith. He then appointed bishops and prelates in every city, and, assembling a council of the chief dignitaries in Compostella, decreed that the church of St. James should be henceforth considered as the Metropolitan, instead of Iria, as it was no city, subjecting Iria likewise to Compostella. In the same council I, Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, together with forty other Bishops and Prelates, dedicated, by the King's command, the church and altar of St. James, with extraordinary splendour and magnificence. All Spain and Gallicia were made subject to this holy place: it was moreover endowed with four pieces of money from every house throughout the kingdom, and at the same time totally freed from the royal jurisdiction; being from that hour styled the Apostolic See, as the body of the holy Apostle laid entombed within it. Here likewise the general councils of Spain are held; the Bishops ordained, and the Kings crowned by the hand of the Metropolitan Bishop, to the Apostle's honour. Here too, when any crying sin is committed, or innovations made in the faith and precepts of our Lord, through the meritoriousness of this venerable edifice the grievance is discovered, and atonement made. As the Eastern Apostolic See was established by St. John, the brother of St. James, at Ephesus, so was the Western established by St. James.

And those Sees are undoubtedly the true Sees. Ephesus on the right hand of Christ's earthly kingdom, and Compostella on the left, both which fell to the share of the sons of Zebedee, according to their request. There are, then, three Sees which are deservedly held pre-eminent, even as our Lord gave the pre-eminence to the three Apostles, Peter, James, and John, who first established them. And certainly these three places should be deemed more sacred than others, where they preached, and their bodies lie enshrined. Rome claims the superiority from Peter, Prince of the Apostles. Compostella holds the second place from St. James, the elder brother of St. John, and first inheritor of the crown of martyrdom. He dignified it with his preaching, consecrated it with his sepulchre, and ceases not to exalt it by miracles and dispensations of mercy. The third See justly is Ephesus; for there St. John wrote his gospel, "In the beginning was the Word," assembling there likewise the bishops of the neighbouring cities, whom he calls Angels in the Apocalypse. He established that church by his doctrines and miracles, and there his body was entombed. If, therefore, any difficulty should occur that cannot elsewhere be resolved, let it be brought before these Sees, and it shall, by divine grace, be decided. As Gallicia was freed in these early ages from the Saracen yoke, by the favour of God and St. James, and by the King's valour, so may it continue firm in the orthodox faith till the consummation of ages!



Of the Emperor's Person and Courage.

The Emperor was of a ruddy complexion, with brown hair; of a well-made handsome form, but a stern visage. His height was about eight of his own feet, which were very long. He was of a strong robust make; his legs and thighs very stout, and his sinews firm. His face was thirteen inches long; his beard a palm; his nose half a palm; his forehead a foot over. His lion-like eyes flashed fire like carbuncles; his eyebrows were half a palm over. When he was angry, it was a terror to look upon him. He required eight spans for his girdle, besides what hung loose. He ate sparingly of bread; but a whole quarter of lamb, two fowls, a goose, or a large portion of pork; a peacock, crane, or a whole hare. He drank moderately of wine and water. He was so strong, that he could at a single blow cleave asunder an armed soldier on horseback from the head to the waist, and the horse likewise. He easily vaulted over four horses harnessed together; and could raise an armed man from the ground to his head, as he stood erect upon his hand.

He was liberal, just in his decrees, and fluent of speech. Four days in the year, especially during his residence in Spain, he held a solemn assembly at court, adorning himself with his royal crown and sceptre; namely, on Christmas-day, at Easter, Whitsuntide, and on the festival of St. James. A naked sword, after the imperial fashion, was then borne before him. A hundred and twenty orthodox soldiers matched nightly round his couch, in three courses of forty each. A drawn sword was laid at his right hand, and a lighted candle at his left. Although many would delight to read his great actions, they would be too tedious to relate. How he invested Galifer, Admiral of Coleto, where he was banished, with the military order, and, in return for his kindness, slew Bramantes, his enemy, the proud Saracen King; how many kingdoms and countries he conquered; Abbeys he founded; bodies of the saints and relics he enshrined in gold; how he was made Emperor of Rome, and visited the holy supulchre, bringing back with him the wood of the Holy Cross, wherewith he endowed the shrine of St. James; of all this I shall say no more: the hand and the pen would sooner fail than the history. But what befel his army at his return to France, we now briefly proceed to tell.



Of the Treachery of Ganalon;
the Battle of Ronceval,
and the Sufferings of the Christian Warriors.

When this famous Emperor had thus recovered Spain to the glory of our Lord and St. James, after a season he returned to Pampeluna, and encamped there, with his army. At that time there were in Saragossa two Saracen Kings, Marsir, and Beligard, his brother, sent by the Soldan of Babylon from Persia to Spain. Charles had bowed them to his dominion, and they served him always, but only with feigned fidelity. For the King having sent Ganalon to require them to be baptized, and to pay tribute, they sent him thirty horse-load of gold, silver, and jewels; forty load of wine likewise for his soldiers, and a thousand beautiful Saracen women. But at the same time they covenanted with Ganalon to betray the King's army into their hands for twenty horse-load of gold and silver; which wicked compact being accordingly made, Ganalon returned to the King with intelligence that Marsir would embrace the Christian faith, and was preparing to follow him into France to receive baptism there, and would then hold all Spain under oath of fealty to him. The old soldiers would accept the wine only, but the young men were highly gratified with the present of the women.

Charles, confiding in Ganalon, now began his march through the pass of the mountains, in his return to France; giving the command of the rear to his nephew, Orlando, Count of Mans and Lord of Guienne, and to Oliver, Count of Auvergne, ordering them to keep the station of Ronceval with thirty thousand men, whilst he passed it with the rest of the army. But many, who had on the night preceding intoxicated themselves with wine, and been guilty of fornication with the Saracen women, and other women that followed the camp from France, incurred the penalty of death. What more shall we say? When Charles had safely passed the narrow strait that leads into Gascony, between the mountains, with twenty thousand of his warriors, Turpin, the Archbishop, and Ganalon, and while the rear kept guard, early in the morning Marsir and Beligard, rushing down from the hills, where, by Ganalon's advice, they had lain two days in ambush, formed their troops into two great divisions, and with the first of twenty thousand men attacked our army, which making a bold resistance, fought from morning to the third hour, and utterly destroyed the enemy. But a fresh body of thirty thousand Saracens now poured furiously down upon the Christians, already faint and exhausted with fighting so long, and smote them from high to low, so that scarcely one escaped. Some were transpierced with lances; some killed with clubs; others beheaded, burnt, flayed alive, or suspended on trees: only Orlando, Baldwin, and Theodoric, were left; the two last gained the woods, and finally escaped. After this terrible slaughter the Saracens retreated a league from the field of battle.

And here it may be asked, why God permitted those to perish who in no wise had defiled themselves with women? It was, indeed, to prevent them from committing fresh sins at their return home and to give them a crown of glory in reward for their toils. However neither is it to be doubted but those who were guilty of this fault amply atoned for it by their death. In that awful hour they confessed his name, bewailing their sins, and the all-merciful God forgot not their past labours for the sake of Christ, for whose faith they lost their lives. The company of women is evidently baneful to the warrior: those earthly Princes Darius and Mark Antony were attended by their women, and perished; for lust at once enervates the soul and the body.

Those who fell into intoxication and lasciviousness typify the priests that war against vice, but suffer themselves to be overcome by wine and sensual appetites till they are slain by their enemy the devil, and punished with eternal death.



Of the Death of Marsir, and the Flight of Beligard.

As Orlando was returning after the battle was over to view the Saracen army, he met a certain black Saracen, who had fled from the field, and concealed himself in the woods, whom he seized and bound to a tree with four bands. Then, ascending a lofty hill, he surveyed the Moorish army, and seeing likewise many Christians retreating by the Ronceval road he blew his horn, and was joined by about a hundred of them, with whom he returned to the Saracen, and promised to give him his life if he would show him Marsir; which having performed, he set him at liberty. Animating his little band, Orlando was soon amidst the thickest of the enemy, and finding one of larger stature than the rest, he hewed him and his horse in twain, so that the halves fell different ways. Marsir and his companions then fled in all directions, but Orlando, trusting in the divine aid, rushed forward, and overcoming all opposition, slew Marsir on the spot. By this time every one of the Christians was slain, and Orlando himself sorely wounded in five places by lances, and grievously battered likewise with stones. Beligard, seeing Marsir had fallen, retired from the field with the rest of the Saracens; whilst Theodoric and Baldwin, and some few other Christians, made their way through the pass, towards which Orlando, wandering, came likewise to the foot of it, and, alighting from his steed, stretched himself on the ground, beneath a tree, near a block of marble, that stood upright in the meadows of Ronceval.

Here drawing his sword, Durendal, which signifies a hard blow, a sword of exquisite workmanship, fine temper, and resplendent brightness, which he would sooner have lost his arm than parted with, as he held it in his hand, regarding it earnestly, addressed it in these words: "O sword of unparalleled brightness, excellent dimensions, admirable temper, and hilt of the whitest ivory, decorated with a splendid cross of gold, topped by a berylline apple, engraved with the sacred name of God, endued with keenness and every other virtue, who now shall wield thee in battle? who shall call thee master? He that possessed thee was never conquered, never daunted at the foe; phantoms never appalled him. Aided by Omnipotence, with thee did he destroy the Saracen, exalt the faith of Christ, and acquire consummate glory. Oft hast thou vindicated the blood of Jesus, against Pagans, Jews, and heretics; oft hewed off the hand and foot of the robber, fulfilling divine justice. O happy sword, keenest of the keen; never was one like thee! He that made thee, made not thy fellow! Not one escaped with life from thy stroke! If the slothful timid soldier should now possess thee, or the base Saracen, my grief would be unspeakable! Thus, then, do I prevent thy falling into their hands."—He then struck the block of marble thrice, which cleft it in the midst, and broke the sword in twain.



Of the Sound of Orlando's Horn; of his Confession, and Death.

He now blew a loud blast with his horn, to summon any Christian concealed in the adjacent woods to his assistance, or to recal his friends beyond the pass. This horn was endued with such power, that all other horns were split by its sound; and it is said that Orlando at that time blew it with such vehemence, that he burst the veins and nerves of his neck. The sound reached the King's ears, who lay encamped in the valley still called by his name, about eight miles from Ronceval, towards Gascony, being carried so far by supernatural power. Charles would have flown to his succour, but was prevented by Ganalon, who, conscious of Orlando's sufferings, insinuated it was usual with him to sound his horn on light occasions. "He is, perhaps," said he, "pursuing some wild beast, and the sound echoes through the woods; it will be fruitless, therefore, to seek him." O wicked traitor, deceitful as Judas! What dost thou merit?

Orlando now grew very thirsty, and cried for water to Baldwin, who just then approached him; but unable to find any, and seeing him so near his end, he blessed him, and, again mounting his steed, galloped off for assistance to the army. Immediately after Theodoric came up, and, bitterly grieving to see him in this condition, bade him strengthen his soul by confessing his faith. Orlando had that morning received the blessed Eucharist, and confessed his sins before he went to battle, this being the custom with all the warriors at that time, for which purpose bishops and monks attended the army to give them absolution. The martyr of Christ then cast up his eyes to heaven, and cried, "O Lord Jesus, for whose sake I came into these barbarous regions; through thy aid only have I conquered innumerable Pagans, enduring blows and wounds, reproach, derision, and fatigue, heat and cold, hunger and thirst. To thee do I commit my soul in this trying hour. Thou, who didst suffer on the cross for those who deserved not thy favour, deliver my soul, I beseech thee, from eternal death! I confess myself a most grievous sinner, but thou mercifully dost forgive our sins; thou pitiest every one, and hatest nothing which thou hast made, covering the sins of the penitent in whatsoever day they turn unto thee with true contrition. O thou, who didst spare thy enemies, and the woman taken in adultery; who didst pardon Mary Magdalen, and look with compassion on the weeping Peter; who didst likewise open the gate of Paradise to the thief that confessed thee upon the cross; have mercy upon me, and receive my soul into thy everlasting rest!

"Thou art he who preventest our bodies from perishing in the grave, changing them to greater glory; thou, O Lord, art he, who hast said, 'thou rather wouldst the sinner should live than die.' I believe in thee with my whole heart, and confess thee with my lips; therefore I beseech thee to receive me into the enjoyment of a better life when this is ended. Let my sense and intellects be in the same measure improved as the shadow differs from the substance." And now, grasping the flesh and skin near his heart (as Theodoric afterwards related), he continued his speech with bitter groanings. "O Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, and of the blessed Virgin, with my inmost soul do I confess that thou, my Redeemer, dost live, and that at the day of judgment I shall rise, and in my flesh behold thee, my God and my Saviour!" And thrice, thus grasping his breast, did he repeat those words; and, laying his hand upon his eyes in like manner, he said, "And these eyes shall behold thee!" Uncovering them, he again looked up to heaven, and, signing himself with the sign of the cross, he uttered, "All earthly things are vain and unprofitable; I am now taught of Christ, that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, the good things that God hath prepared for them that love him." Then, stretching his hands to heaven, he uttered this prayer for them that perished in the battle:—

"Let thy bowels of compassion, O Lord, be open to thy faithful servants, who have this day perished by the hand of the barbarians. Hither did they come to vindicate thy faith; for thy sake are they fallen. Do thou, O Lord, mercifully blot out their offences, accounting them worthy to be delivered from the pains of hell. Send thy archangels to rescue their souls from darkness, and bear them to the regions of light, where thy blessed martyrs eternally live and reign with thee, who dost live and reign with God the Father and the Holy Spirit, to all ages. Amen!"—Immediately after this confession and prayer, his soul winged its flight from his body, and was borne by angels to Paradise, where he reigns in transcendent glory, united by his meritorious deeds to the blessed choir of martyrs.



Of Orlando's Rank and Virtue.

No longer it becomes the heart to mourn
A hero of immortal joys possessed;
Of noble rank, and noble parents born,
For nobler deeds in heaven with glory blest.

To none inferior, thine was native worth;
Thy feet still tending to the temple's bounds;
A glorious model to the wondering earth,
A faithful balsam to thy country's wounds.

The Clergy's refuge, and the Widow's friend,
Bounteous to guests, and liberal to the poor;
To heaven thy parting steps may safely bend,
Whose works have opened wide salvation's door.

Thy tongue the fount of heavenly eloquence,
That still would slake the thirst, and never pall,
Endowed with graceful wit, and manly sense,
Proclaimed thee common father, friend of all.

Blest Chief, farewell! but not the marbled urn
That holds thy ashes can thy soul contain:
Our wondering eyes to heaven above we turn,
Where thou for ever dost triumphant reign.



Archbishop Turpin's Vision, and the King's Lamentation for Orlando.

What more shall we say? Whilst the soul of the blessed Orlando was leaving his body, I, Turpin, standing near the King in the valley of Charles, at the moment I was celebrating the mass of the dead, namely, on the 16th day of June, fell into a trance, and, hearing the angelic choir sing aloud, I wondered what it might be. Now, when they had ascended on high, behold, there came after them a phalanx of terrible ones, like warriors returning from the spoil, bearing their prey. Presently I inquired of one of them what it meant, and was answered, "We are bearing the soul of Marsir to hell, but yonder is Michael bearing the Horn-winder to heaven." When mass was over, I told the King what I had seen; and whilst I was yet speaking, behold Baldwin rode up on Orlando's horse, and related what had befallen him, and where he had left the hero in the agonies of death, beside a stone in the meadows at the foot of the mountain; whereupon the whole army immediately marched back to Ronceval.

The King himself first discovered the hero, lying in the form of a cross, and began to lament over him with bitter sighs and sobs, wringing his hands, and tearing his hair and beard. "O right arm," cried he, "of thy Sovereign's body; honour of the French; sword of justice, inflexible spear, inviolable breast-plate, shield of safety; a Judas Maccabeus in probity, a Samson in strength; in death like Saul and Jonathan; brave, experienced soldier, great and noble defender of the Christians, scourge of the Saracens; a wall to the clergy, the widow's and orphan's friend, just and faithful in judgment!—Renowned Count of the French, valiant captain of our armies, why did I leave thee here to perish? How can I behold thee dead, and not die myself? Why hast thou left me sorrowful and alone? A poor miserable King! But thou art exalted to the kingdom of heaven, and dost enjoy the company of angels and martyrs. Without cease I shall lament over thee, as David did over Saul and Jonathan, and his son Absalom.

Thy soul is fled to happier scenes above,
And left us mourning to lament thee here;
Blest in thy God and Saviour's fav'ring love,
Who wipes from every eye the trickling tear.

Six lustres and eight years thou dwelledst below,
But snatched from earth to heaven, thou reign'st on high,
Where feasts divine immortal spirits know,
And joys transcendent fill the starry sky.

Thus did Charles mourn for Orlando to the very last day of his life. On the spot where he died he encamped; and caused the body to be embalmed with balsam, myrrh, and aloes. The whole camp watched it that night, honouring his corse with hymns and songs, and innumerable torches and fires kindled on the adjacent mountains.



How the Sun stood still for three Days;
the Slaughter of four thousand Saracens; and the
Death of Ganalon.

Early on the next day they came to the field of battle in Ronceval, and found the bodies of their friends, many of them still alive, but mortally wounded. Oliver was lying on his face, pinioned to the ground in the form of a cross, and flayed from the neck to his finger-ends; pierced also with darts and javelins, and bruised with clubs. The mourning was now dismal; every one wept for his friend, till the groves and valleys resounded with wailing. Charles solemnly vowed to pursue the Pagans till he found them; and, marching in pursuit with his whole army, the sun stood still for three days, till he overtook them on the banks of the Ebro, near Saragossa, feasting and rejoicing for their success. Attacking them valiantly, he then slew four thousand, and dispersed the rest. What further? We now returned to Ronceval, bearing with us the sick and wounded to the spot where Orlando fell. The Emperor then made strict inquiries after the treachery of Ganalon, which began to be universally rumoured about. Trial was ordained by single combat, Pinabel for Ganalon, and Theodoric for the Accuser; when, the latter gaining the victory, the treason was proved. Ganalon was now sentenced to be torn to pieces by four wild horses, which was accordingly his end.



The Embalming of the Dead.

They now embalmed the dead bodies of their friends; some with myrrh and balsam, some with salt, taking out the bowels, and filling the bodies with aromatic drugs, or with salt only. Some were buried on the spot; others conveyed to France; but many that became putrid and offensive were buried on the road. Wooden carriages were made for the dead, but the sick and wounded were borne away on litters upon their shoulders.



Of the consecrated Cemeteries of Arles and Bordeaux.

Two chief burying grounds were now consecrated at Arles and Bordeaux by seven Bishops: Maximin of Aix, Trophimus of Arles, Paul of Narbonne, Saturnine of Thoulouse, Frontorne of Perigord, Martial of Limoges, and Eutropius of Xaintonge; where the major part of the warriors were interred that fell in the battles of Ronceval and Mount Garzim.



Of the Burial of Orlando and his Companions
at Blaye and other Places.

Charles deferred the burial of Orlando till he came to Blaye. His body was laid upon gold tapestry on two mules, covered with a pall, and at length honourably interred in the Church of St Roman, which he had formerly built, and endowed with regular canons. His helmet was placed upon his head, and his ivory horn at his feet. But the body was afterwards translated to St. Severin in Bordeaux, the chief city of these provinces, where it was joyfully welcomed, as it had liberally tasted his munificence.

At Blaye likewise was buried Oliver, and Galdebode, King of Friezeland; Ogier, King of Dacia; Aristagnus, King of Brittany; Garin, Duke of Lorraine; and many other warriors. Happy town, graced with the sepulchres of so many heroes! At Bordeaux, in the cemetery of St. Severin, were buried Gayfere, King of Bordeaux; Angelerus, Duke of Aquitaine; Lambert, Prince of Bourges; Galerius Galin; Rinaldo of the White Thorn; Walter of the Olive Trees; Vulterinus, and five thousand of their soldiers. Ocellus, Count of Nantes, and most of the inhabitants of Brittany, were buried in that city. Charles gave twelve thousand pieces of silver and talents of gold for the repose of their souls, and fed the poor for many miles round the city of Blaye; endowing the church likewise with rich vestments and silver ornaments, for the love he bore Orlando; freeing the Canons from all service but prayers for him and his companions. He moreover clothed and entertained thirty poor men on the anniversary of their martyrdom, establishing Minstrels, Masses, and other solemnities, which the Canons were not to neglect on that day, as they hoped to merit a crown of glory, which they promised to perform.



Of those Buried at Arles.

After this the King and his army proceeded by the way of Gascony and Thoulouse, and came to Arles, where we found the army of Burgundy, which had left us in the hostile valley, bringing their dead by the way of Morbihan and Thoulouse, to bury them in the plain of Arles. Here we performed the rites of Estolfo, Count of Champagne; of Solomon; Sampson, Duke of Burgundy; Arnold of Berlanda; Alberic of Burgundy; Gumard, Esturinite, Hato, Juonius, Berard, Berengaire, and Naaman, Duke of Bourbon, and of ten thousand of their soldiers. Constantine, Governor of Rome, and other Romans, were conveyed thither by sea, and buried in Apulia. The King gave twelve thousand pieces of silver, and as many talents of gold, for the repose of their souls, and to the poor of Arles.



Of the Council held at St. Denis.

We then came to Vienne, where I remained to be healed of the scars and wounds I received in Spain. The King, much fatigued, at length arrived at Paris; and, assembling a council of his chief princes and bishops at St. Denis, returned thanks to God for his victory over the Pagans, and gave all France as a manor to that church, in the same way as St. Paul and St. Clement had formerly endowed the bishopric of Rome. The French Bishops were likewise to be ordained there, and not made subject to the See of Rome. Then, standing by the tomb of St. Denis, he entreated the Lord for all who had died in his cause.

The very next night St. Denis appeared to the King in his sleep, assuring him that full pardon of sin was granted to all that followed him, and had fought and perished in the wars with the Saracens; that they likewise should recover of their wounds who had bestowed money on the church; which being made known by the King, very liberal offerings were made by the people, who thus acquired the name of Franks; and the whole land, formerly called Gaul, was now changed to France, as being freed from all servitude, and having dominion over other nations. The King then went to Aix-la-Chapelle, in the county of Liege, to bathe and drink the waters, where he liberally endowed St. Mary's Church with gold and silver, ordering it to be painted with ancient and modern histories, and his palace to be decorated with the representation of his wars in Spain; with emblems of the seven liberal arts and other excellent embellishments.



Of the King's Death.

Soon after, the King's approaching death was revealed to me; for, behold, as I was praying in the church of Vienne, I fell into a trance, as I was singing psalms, and saw innumerable companies of soldiers pass before me by the Lorraine road. A certain one, black as an Ethiop, followed them, of whom I inquired whither he was going, and received for answer that he was awaiting the death of Charles to take possession of his soul. "I conjure you, then," said I, "by the name of the Lord Jesus, to return when you have completed your errand." When I had rested some time, and begun to explain the psalms, behold they returned back, and, speaking to the same person I before addressed, I inquired whom he had been seeking, and was answered, "the Gallician;" but the stones and timber of the churches he founded balanced so greatly in his favour, that his good works outweighed his bad, and his soul was snatched from us, and at this the demon vanished. Thus I understood Charles died that day, and was carried into the bosom of God and St. James. But as I had requested him, before we parted at Vienne, to send me notice of his decease in case it preceded mine, being then grievously sick, and remembering his promise, he encharged a certain learned soldier to bring me word the moment he died. What more need I add? The messenger arrived on the fifteenth day after it happened. He had, indeed, been grievously afflicted with illness from the hour he left Spain, and suffered still more in mind than in body for the friends he lost on the unfortunate 16th of June. On the same day that I saw the vision, namely, on the 5th of February, in the year of our Lord 814, he departed this life, and was sumptuously buried in the round church of St. Mary, which he had himself built; and this sign I was credibly informed happened yearly for three years together before his death,—"The Sun and Moon became dark, and his name, Charles the Prince, inscribed on the church, was totally obliterated of itself; and the portico likewise, between the church and the palace, fell to the very foundation." The wooden bridge also which he built six years before over the Rhine at Mentz was destroyed by fire, self-kindled. And the same day, as a traveller was on his journey, he saw a great flame, like the flame of a funeral pile, pass from right to left before him; which terrifying him greatly, he fell from his horse, but was presently relieved by his friends.

We therefore believe that he now enjoys the crown of the blessed martyrs, whose labours he imitated, whose pattern and example he followed. Whereby we may understand, that whoever builds a church to God's glory, provides for himself a residence in his kingdom. For this cause was Charles snatched from the hands of demons, and borne by good angels to heavenly habitations.














The Moor Calaynos
The Escape of Gayferos
The Admiral Guarinos
The March of Bernardo del Carpio
Lady Alda's Dream
The Complaint of the Count of Saldenha
The Funeral of the Count of Saldenha
Bernardo and Alphonso
The Young Cid
Ximena Demands Vengeance
The Cid and the Five Moorish Kings
The Cid's Courtship
The Cid's Wedding
The Cid and the Leper
The Excommunication of the Cid
Count Alarcos and the Infanta Solisa





In the following version I have taken liberty to omit a good many of the introductory stanzas of the famous Coplas de Calainos. The reader will remember that this ballad is alluded to in Don Quixote, where the Knight's nocturnal visit to Toboso is described.

It is generally believed to be among the most ancient, and certainly was among the most popular, of all the ballads in the Cancionero.


"I had six Moorish nurses, but the seventh was not a Moor,
 The Moors they gave me milk enow, but the Christian gave me lore;
 And she told me ne'er to listen, though sweet the words might be,
 Till he that spake had proved his troth, and pledged a gallant fee."—


"Fair damsel," quoth Calaynos, "if thou wilt go with me,
 Say what may win thy favour, and thine that gift shall be.
 Fair stands the castle on the rock, the city in the vale,
 And bonny is the red red gold, and rich the silver pale."—


"Fair sir," quoth she, "virginity I never will lay down
 For gold, nor yet for silver, for castle, nor for town;
 But I will be your leman for the heads of certain peers—
 And I ask but three—Rinaldo's—Roland's—and Olivier's."—


He kissed her hand where she did stand, he kissed her lips also,
And "Bring forth," he cries, "my pennon, for to Paris I must go."—
I wot ye saw them rearing his banner broad right soon,
Whereon revealed his bloody field its pale and crescent moon.


That broad bannere the Moore did rear, ere many days were gone,
In foul disdain of Charlemagne, by the church of good Saint John;
In the midst of merry Paris, on the bonny banks of Seine,
Shall never scornful Paynim that pennon rear again.


His banner he hath planted high, and loud his trumpet blown,
That all the twelve might hear it well around King Charles's throne;
The note he blew right well they knew; both Paladin and Peer
Had the trumpet heard of that stern lord in many a fierce career.


It chanced the King, that fair morning, to the chace had made him bowne,
With many a knight of warlike might, and prince of high renown;
Sir Reynold of Montalban, and Claros' Lord, Gaston,
Behind him rode, and Bertram good, that reverend old Baron.


Black D'Ardennes' eye of mastery in that proud troop was seen,
And there was Urgel's giant force, and Guarinos' princely mien;
Gallant and gay upon that day was Baldwin's youthful cheer,
But first did ride, by Charles's side, Roland and Olivier.


Now in a ring around the King, not far in the greenwood,
Awaiting all the huntsman's call, it chanced the nobles stood;
"Now list, mine earls, now list!" quoth Charles, "yon breeze will come again,
Some trumpet-note methinks doth float from the bonny banks of Seine."—


He scarce had heard the trumpet, the word he scarce had said,
When among the trees he near him sees a dark and turbaned head;
"Now stand, now stand at my command, bold Moor," quoth Charlemagne,
"That turban green, how dare it be seen among the woods of Seine."—


"My turban green must needs be seen among the woods of Seine,"
 The Moor replied, "since here I ride in quest of Charlemagne—
 For I serve the Moor Calaynos, and I his defiance bring
 To every lord that sits at the board of Charlemagne your King.


"Now lordlings fair, if anywhere in the wood ye've seen him riding,
 O tell me plain the path he has ta'en—there is no cause for chiding;
 For my lord hath blown his trumpet by every gate of Paris—
 Long hours in vain, by the bank of Seine, upon his steed he tarries."—


When the Emperor had heard the Moor, full red was his old cheek,
"Go back, base cur, upon the spur, for I am he you seek—
Go back, and tell your master to commend him to Mahoun,
For his soul shall dwell with him in hell, or ere yon sun go down.


"Mine arm is weak, my hairs are grey," (thus spake King Charlemagne,)
"Would for one hour I had the power of my young days again,
 As when I plucked the Saxon from out his mountain den—
 O soon should cease the vaunting of this proud Saracen!


"Though now mine arm be weakened, though now my hairs be grey,
 The hard-won praise of other days cannot be swept away—
 If shame there be, my liegemen, that shame on you must lie—
 Go forth, go forth, good Roland; to-night this Moor must die."—


Then out and spake rough Roland—"Ofttimes I've thinned the ranks
Of the hot Moor, and when all was o'er have won me little thanks;
Some carpet knight will take delight to do this doughty feat,
Whom damsels gay shall well repay with their smiles and whispers sweet!"—


Then out and spake Sir Baldwin—the youngest peer was he,
The youngest and the comeliest—"Let none go forth but me;
Sir Roland is mine uncle, and he may in safety jeer,
But I will show the youngest may be Sir Roland's peer."—


"Nay, go not thou," quoth Charlemagne, "thou art my gallant youth,
 And braver none I look upon; but thy cheek it is too smooth;
 And the curls upon thy forehead they are too glossy bright;—
 Some elder peer must couch his spear against this crafty knight."—


But away, away goes Baldwin, no words can stop him now,
Behind him lies the greenwood, he hath gained the mountain's brow,
He reineth first his charger, within the churchyard green,
Where, striding slow the elms below, the haughty Moor is seen.


Then out and spake Calaynos—"Fair youth, I greet thee well;
Thou art a comely stripling, and if thou with me wilt dwell,
All for the grace of thy sweet face, thou shalt not lack thy fee,
Within my lady's chamber a pretty page thou'lt be."—


An angry man was Baldwin, when thus he heard him speak,
"Proud knight," quoth he, "I come with thee a bloody spear to break."—
O, sternly smiled Calaynos, when thus he heard him say,—
O loudly as he mounted his mailèd barb did neigh.


One shout, one thrust, and in the dust young Baldwin lies full low—
No youthful knight could bear the might of that fierce warrior's blow;
Calaynos draws his falchion, and waves it to and fro,
"Thy name now say, and for mercy pray, or to hell thy soul must go."—


The helpless youth revealed the truth. Then said the conqueror—
"I spare thee for thy tender years, and for thy great valour;
But thou must rest thee captive here, and serve me on thy knee,
For fain I'd tempt some doughtier peer to come and rescue thee."


Sir Roland heard that haughty word, (he stood behind the wall,)
His heart, I trow, was heavy enow, when he saw his kinsman fall;
But now his heart was burning, and never a word he said,
But clasped his buckler on his arm, his helmet on his head.


Another sight saw the Moorish knight, when Roland blew his horn,
To call him to the combat in anger and in scorn;
All cased in steel from head to heel, in the stirrup high he stood,
The long spear quivered in his hand, as if athirst for blood.


Then out and spake Calaynos—"Thy name I fain would hear;
A coronet on thy helm is set; I guess thou art a Peer."—
Sir Roland lifted up his horn, and blew another blast,
"No words, base Moor," quoth Roland, "this hour shall be thy last."—


I wot they met full swiftly, I wot the shock was rude;
Down fell the misbeliever, and o'er him Roland stood;
Close to his throat the steel he brought, and plucked his beard full sore—
"What devil brought thee hither?—speak out or die, false Moor!"—


"O! I serve a noble damsel, a haughty maid of Spain,
 And in evil day I took my way, that I her grace might gain;
 For every gift I offered, my lady did disdain,
 And craved the ears of certain Peers that ride with Charlemagne."—


Then loudly laughed rough Roland—"Full few will be her tears,
It was not love her soul did move, when she bade thee beard the peers."—
With that he smote upon his throat, and spurned his crest in twain,
"No more," he cries, "this moon will rise above the woods of Seine."



The story of Gayfer de Bourdeaux is to be found at great length in the Romantic Chronicle of Charlemagne; and it has supplied the Spanish minstrels with subjects for a long series of ballads.

In that which follows, Gayferos, yet a boy, is represented as hearing from his mother the circumstances of his father's death; and as narrowly escaping with his own life, in consequence of his stepfather's cruelty.


Before her knee the boy did stand, within the dais so fair,
The golden shears were in her hand, to clip his curlèd hair;
And ever as she clipped the curls, such doleful words she spake,
That tears ran from Gayferos' eyes, for his sad mother's sake.


"God grant a beard were on thy face, and strength thine arm within,
To fling a spear, or swing a mace, like Roland Paladin!
For then, I think, thou wouldst avenge thy father that is dead,
Whom envious traitors slaughtered within thy mother's bed.


"Their bridal-gifts were rich and rare, that hate might not be seen;
 They cut me garments broad and fair—none fairer hath the Queen."—
 Then out and spake the little boy—"Each night to God I call,
 And to his blessèd Mother, to make me strong and tall!"—


The Count he heard Gayferos, in the palace where he lay;—
"Now silence, silence, Countess! it is falsehood that you say;
I neither slew the man, nor hired another's sword to slay;—
But, for that the mother hath desired, be sure the son shall pay!"


The Count called to his esquires, (old followers were they,
Whom the dead Lord had nurtured for many a merry day)—
He bade them take their old Lord's heir, and stop his tender breath—
Alas! 'twas piteous but to hear the manner of that death.


"List, esquires, list, for my command is offspring of mine oath—
 The stirrup-foot and the hilt-hand see that ye sunder both;—
 That ye cut out his eyes 'twere best—the safer he will go—
 And bring a finger and the heart, that I his end may know."—


The esquires took the little boy aside with them to go;
Yet, as they went, they did repent—"O God! must this be so?
How shall we think to look for grace, if this poor child we slay,
When ranged before Christ Jesu's face at the great judgment day?"—


While they, not knowing what to do, were standing in such talk,
The Countess' little lap-dog bitch by chance did cross their walk;
Then out and spake one of the 'squires, (you may hear the words he said,)
"I think the coming of this bitch may serve us in good stead—


"Let us take out the bitch's heart, and give it to Galvan;
 The boy may with a finger part, and be no worser man."—
 With that they cut the joint away, and whispered in his ear,
 That he must wander many a day, nor once those parts come near.


"Your uncle grace and love will show; he is a bounteous man;"—
 And so they let Gayferos go, and turned them to Galvan.
 The heart and the small finger upon the board they laid,
 And of Gayferos' slaughter a cunning story made.


The Countess, when she hears them, in great grief loudly cries:
Meantime the stripling safely unto his uncle hies:—
"Now welcome, my fair boy," he said, "what good news may they be
Come with thee to thine uncle's hall?"—"Sad tidings come with me—


"The false Galvan had laid his plan to have me in my grave;
 But I've escaped him, and am here, my boon from thee to crave:
 Rise up, rise up, mine uncle, thy brother's blood they've shed;
 Rise up—they've slain my father within my mother's bed.2



The following is a version of another of the ballads concerning Gayferos. It is the same that is quoted in the chapter of the Puppet-show in Don Quixote.

"'Child, child,' said Don Quixote, 'go on directly with your story, and don't keep us here with your excursions and ramblings out of the road. I tell you there must be a formal process, and legal trial, to prove matters of fact.'— 'Boy,' said the master from behind the show, 'do as the gentleman bids you. Don't run so much upon flourishes, but follow your plain song, without venturing on counterpoints, for fear of spoiling all'—'I will, sir,' quoth the boy, and so proceeding: 'Now, sirs, he that you see there a-horseback, wrapt up in the Gascoign-cloak, is Don Gayferos himself, whom his wife, now revenged on the Moor for his impudence, seeing from the battlements of the tower, takes him for a stranger, and talks with him as such, according to the ballad,

'Quoth Melisendra, if perchance,
 Sir Traveller, you go for France,
 For pity's sake, ask when you're there,
 For Gayferos, my husband dear.'

"'I omit the rest, not to tire you with a long story. It is sufficient that he makes himself known to her, as you may guess by the joy she shows; and, accordingly, now see how she lets herself down from the balcony, to come at her loving husband, and get behind him; but, unhappily, alas! one of the skirts of her gown is caught upon one of the spikes of the balcony, and there she hangs and hovers in the air miserably, without being able to get down. But see how Heaven is merciful, and sends relief in the greatest distress! Now Don Gayferos rides up to her, and, not fearing to tear her rich gown, lays hold on it, and at one pull brings her down; and then at one lift sets her astride upon his horse's crupper, bidding her to sit fast, and clap her arms about him, that she might not fall; for the lady Melisendra was not used to that kind of riding.

"'Observe now, gallants, how the horse neighs, and shows how proud he is of the burden of his brave master and fair mistress. Look, now, how they turn their backs, and leave the city, and gallop it merrily away towards Paris. Peace be with you, for a peerless couple of true lovers! may ye get safe and sound into your own country, without any lett or ill chance in your journey, and live as long as Nestor, in peace and quietness among your friends and relations.'—'Plainness, boy!' cried Master Peter, 'none of your flights, I beseech you, for affectation is the devil.'—The boy answered nothing, but going on: 'Now, sirs,' quoth he, 'some of those idle people, that love to pry into everything, happened to spy Melisendra as she was making her escape, and ran presently and gave Marsilius notice of it; whereupon he straight commanded to sound an alarm; and now mind what a din and hurly-burly there is, and how the city shakes with the ring of the bells backwards in all the mosques!'—'There you are out, boy,' said Don Quixote; 'the Moors have no bells, they only use kettle-drums, and a kind of shaulms like our waits or hautboys; so that your ringing of bells in Sansueña is a mere absurdity, good Master Peter.'—'Nay, sir,' said Master Peter, giving over ringing, 'if you stand upon these trifles with us, we shall never please you. Don't be so severe a critic. Are there not a thousand plays that pass with great success and applause, though they have many greater absurdities, and nonsense in abundance? On, boy, on, let there be as many impertinences as motes in the sun; no matter, so I get the money.'—'Well said,' answered Don Quixote.—'And now, sirs,' quoth the boy, 'observe what a vast company of glittering horse comes pouring out of the city, in pursuit of the Christian lovers; what a dreadful sound of trumpets, and clarions, and drums, and kettle-drums there is in the air. I fear they will overtake them, and then will the poor wretches be dragged along most barbarously at the tails of their horses, which would be sad indeed.'

"Don Quixote, seeing such a number of Moors, and hearing such an alarm, thought it high time to assist the flying lovers; and starting up, 'It shall never be said while I live,' cried he aloud, 'that I suffered such a wrong to be done to so famous a knight and so daring a lover as Don Gayferos. Forbear, then, your unjust pursuit, ye base-born rascals! Stop, or prepare to meet my furious resentment!' Then drawing out his sword, to make good his threats, at one spring he gets to the show, and with a violent fury lays at the Moorish puppets, cutting and slashing in a most terrible manner: some he overthrows, and beheads others; maims this, and cleaves that in pieces. Among the rest of his merciless strokes, he thundered one down with such a mighty force, that had not Master Peter luckily ducked and squatted down, it had certainly chopped off his head as easily as one might cut an apple."



At Sansueña,3 in the tower, fair Melisendra lies,
Her heart is far away in France, and tears are in her eyes;
The twilight shade is thickening laid on Sansueña's plain,
Yet wistfully the lady her weary eyes doth strain.


She gazes from the dungeon strong, forth on the road to Paris,
Weeping, and wondering why so long her Lord Gayferos tarries,
When lo! a knight appears in view—a knight of Christian mien,
Upon a milk-white charger he rides the elms between.


She from her window reaches forth her hand a sign to make,
"O, if you be a knight of worth, draw near for mercy's sake;
For mercy and sweet charity, draw near, Sir Knight to me,
And tell me if ye ride to France, or whither bowne ye be.


"O, if ye be a Christian knight, and if to France you go,
I pr'ythee tell Gayferos that you have seen my woe;
That you have seen me weeping, here in the Moorish tower,
While he is gay by night and day, in hall and lady's bower.


"Seven summers have I waited, seven winters long are spent,
Yet word of comfort none he speaks, nor token hath he sent;
And if he is weary of my love, and would have me wed a stranger,
Still say his love is true to him—nor time nor wrong can change her."—


The knight on stirrup rising, bids her wipe her tears away,—
"My love, no time for weeping, no peril save delay—
Come, boldly spring, and lightly leap—no listening Moor is near us,
And by dawn of day we'll be far away"—so spake the Knight Gayferos.


She has made the sign of the Cross divine, and an Ave she hath said,
And she dares the leap both wide and deep—that damsel without dread;
And he hath kissed her pale pale cheek, and lifted her behind,
Saint Denis speed the milk-white steed—no Moor their path shall find.



Of Bernardo del Carpio, we find little or nothing in the French romances of Charlemagne. He belongs exclusively to Spanish History, or rather perhaps to Spanish Romance; in which the honour is claimed for him of slaying the famous Orlando, or Roland, the nephew of Charlemagne, in the fatal field of Roncesvalles.

The continence which procured for Alonzo, who succeeded to the precarious throne of the Christians, in the Asturias, about 795, the epithet of the Chaste, was not universal in his family. By an intrigue with Sancho Diaz, Count of Saldaña, or Saldenha, Donna Ximena, sister of this virtuous prince, bore a son. Some historians attempt to gloss over this incident, by alleging that a private marriage had taken place between the lovers: but King Alphonso, who was well-nigh sainted for living only in platonic union with his wife Bertha, took the scandal greatly to heart. He shut up the peccant princess in a cloister, and imprisoned her gallant in the castle of Luna, where he caused him to be deprived of sight. Fortunately, his wrath did not extend to the offspring of their stolen affections, the famous Bernardo del Carpio. When the youth had grown up to manhood, Alphonso, according to the Spanish chroniclers, invited the Emperor Charlemagne into Spain, and having neglected to raise up heirs for the kingdom of the Goths in the ordinary manner, he proposed the inheritance of his throne as the price of the alliance of Charles. But the nobility, headed by Bernardo del Carpio, remonstrated against the king's choice of a successor, and would on no account consent to receive a Frenchman as heir of their crown. Alphonso himself repented of the invitation he had given Charlemagne, and when that champion of Christendom came to expel the Moors from Spain, he found the conscientious and chaste Alphonso had united with the infidels against him. An engagement took place in the renowned pass of Roncesvalles, in which the French were defeated, and the celebrated Roland, or Orlando, was slain. The victory was ascribed chiefly to the prowess of Bernardo del Carpio.

The following ballad describes the enthusiasm excited among the Leonese, when Bernard first raised his standard to oppose the progress of Charlemagne's army.



With three thousand Men of Leon, from the city Bernard goes,
To protect the soil Hispanian from the spear of Frankish foes
From the city which is planted in the midst between the seas,
To preserve the name and glory of old Pelayo's victories.


The peasant hears upon his field the trumpet of the knight,
He quits his team for spear and shield, and garniture of might,
The shepherd hears it 'mid the mist—he flingeth down his crook,
And rushes from the mountain like a tempest-troubled brook.


The youth who shows a maiden's chin, whose brows have ne'er been bound
The helmet's heavy ring within, gains manhood from the sound;
The hoary sire beside the fire forgets his feebleness,
Once more to feel the cap of steel a warrior's ringlets press.


As through the glen his spears did gleam, these soldiers from the hills,
They swelled his host, as mountain-stream receives the roaring rills;
They round his banner flocked, in scorn of haughty Charlemagne,
And thus upon their swords are sworn the faithful sons of Spain.


"Free were we born," 'tis thus they cry, "though to our King we owe
The homage and the fealty behind his crest to go;
By God's behest our aid he shares, but God did ne'er command,
That we should leave our children heirs of an enslavèd land.


"Our breasts are not so timorous, nor are our arms so weak,
Nor are our veins so bloodless, that we our vow should break,
To sell our freedom for the fear of Prince or Paladin,—
At least we'll sell our birthright dear, no bloodless prize they'll win.


"At least King Charles, if God decrees he must be lord of Spain,
Shall witness that the Leonese were not aroused in vain;
He shall bear witness that we died, as lived our sires of old,
Nor only of Numantium's pride shall minstrel tales be told.


"The Lion4 that hath bathed his paws in seas of Libyan gore,
Shall he not battle for the laws and liberties of yore?
Anointed cravens may give gold to whom it likes them well,
But steadfast heart and spirit bold Alphonso ne'er shall sell."



The following is an attempt to render one of the most admired of all the Spanish ballads.

En Paris esta Doña Alda, la esposa de Don Roldan,
Trecientas damas con ella, para la accompañar,
Todas visten un vestido, todas calçan un calçar, &c.

In its whole structure and strain it bears a very remarkable resemblance to several of our own old ballads—both English and Scottish.


In Paris sits the lady that shall be Sir Roland's bride,
Three hundred damsels with her, her bidding to abide;
All clothed in the same fashion, both the mantle and the shoon,
All eating at one table, within her hall at noon:
All, save the Lady Alda, she is lady of them all,
She keeps her place upon the dais, and they serve her in her hall;
The thread of gold a hundred spin, the lawn a hundred weave,
And a hundred play sweet melody within Alda's bower at eve.


With the sound of their sweet playing, the lady falls asleep,
And she dreams a doleful dream, and her damsels hear her weep;
There is sorrow in her slumber, and she waketh with a cry,
And she calleth for her damsels, and swiftly they come nigh.
"Now, what is it, Lady Alda," (you may hear the words they say,)
"Bringeth sorrow to thy pillow, and chaseth sleep away?"—
"O, my maidens!" quoth the lady, "my heart it is full sore!
I have dreamt a dream of evil, and can slumber never more.


"For I was upon a mountain, in a bare and desert place,
And I saw a mighty eagle, and a falcon he did chase;
And to me the falcon came, and I hid it in my breast,
But the mighty bird, pursuing, came and rent away my vest;
And he scattered all the feathers, and blood was on his beak,
And ever, as he tore and tore, I heard the falcon shriek;—
Now read my vision, damsels, now read my dream to me,
For my heart may well be heavy that doleful sight to see."—


Out spake the foremost damsel was in her chamber there—
(You may hear the words she says), "O! my lady's dream is fair—
The mountain is St. Denis' choir; and thou the falcon art,
And the eagle strong that teareth the garment from thy heart,
And scattereth the feathers, he is the Paladin—
That, when again he comes from Spain, must sleep thy bower within;—
Then be blithe of cheer, my lady, for the dream thou must not grieve,
It means but that thy bridegroom shall come to thee at eve."—


"If thou hast read my vision, and read it cunningly"—
Thus said the Lady Alda, "thou shalt not lack thy fee." But
woe is me for Alda! there was heard, at morning hour,
A voice of lamentation within that lady's bower,
For there had come to Paris a messenger by night,
And his horse it was a-weary, and his visage it was white;
And there's weeping in the chamber and there's silence in the hall,
For Sir Roland had been slaughtered in the chase of Roncesval.



This is a translation of the ballad which Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, when at Toboso, overheard a peasant singing, as he was going to his work at daybreak.—"Iba cantando," says Cervantes, "aquel romance que dice,

Mala la vistes Franceses la caça de Roncesvalles."


The day of Roncesvalles was a dismal day for you,
Ye men of France, for there the lance of King Charles was broke in two.
Ye well may curse that rueful field, for many a noble peer,
In fray or fight, the dust did bite, beneath Bernardo's spear.


There captured was Guarinos, King Charles's admiral;
Seven Moorish kings surrounded him, and seized him for their thrall;
Seven times, when all the chase was o'er, for Guarinos lots they cast;
Seven times Marlotes won the throw, and the knight was his at last.


Much joy had then Marlotes, and his captive much did prize,
Above all the wealth of Araby, he was precious in his eyes.
Within his tent at evening he made the best of cheer,
And thus, the banquet done, he spake unto his prisoner.


"Now, for the sake of Alla, Lord Admiral Guarinos
Be thou a Moslem, and much love shall ever rest between us.
Two daughters have I—all the day thy handmaid one shall be,
The other (and the fairer far) by night shall cherish thee.


"The one shall be thy waiting-maid, thy weary feet to lave,
To scatter perfumes on thy head, and fetch thee garments brave;
The other—she the pretty—shall deck her bridal bower,
And my field and my city they both shall be her dower.


"If more thou wishest, more I'll give—speak boldly what thy thought is."—
Thus earnestly and kindly to Guarinos said Marlotes;—
But not a moment did he take to ponder or to pause,
Thus clear and quick the answer of the Christian Captain was:


"Now, God forbid! Marlotes, and Mary, his dear mother,
That I should leave the faith of Christ, and bind me to another.
For women—I've one wife in France, and I'll wed no more in Spain;
I change not faith, I break not vow, for courtesy or gain."—


Wroth waxed King Marlotes, when thus he heard him say,
And all for ire commanded, he should be led away;
Away unto the dungeon keep, beneath its vault to lie,
With fetters bound in darkness deep, far off from sun and sky.


With iron bands they bound his hands. That sore unworthy plight
Might well express his helplessness, doomed never more to fight.
Again, from cincture down to knee, long bolts of iron he bore,
Which signified the knight should ride on charger never more.


Three times alone, in all the year, it is the captive's doom,
To see God's daylight bright and clear, instead of dungeon-gloom;
Three times alone they bring him out, like Samson long ago,
Before the Moorish rabble-rout to be a sport and show.


On three high feasts they bring him forth, a spectacle to be,
The feast of Pasque, and the great day of the Nativity,
And on that morn, more solemn yet, when the maidens strip the bowers,
And gladden mosque and minaret with the first fruits of the flowers.


Days come and go of gloom and show. Seven years are come and gone,
And now doth fall the festival of the holy Baptist John;
Christian and Moslem tilts and jousts, to give it homage due;
And rushes on the paths to spread they force the sulky Jew.


Marlotes, in his joy and pride, a target high doth rear,
Below the Moorish knights must ride and pierce it with the spear;
But 'tis so high up in the sky, albeit much they strain,
No Moorish lance so far may fly, Marlotes' prize to gain.


Wroth waxed King Marlotes, when he beheld them fail,
The whisker trembled on his lip, and his cheek for ire was pale;
And heralds proclamation made, with trumpets, through the town,—
"Nor child shall suck, nor man shall eat, till the mark be tumbled down."


The cry of proclamation, and the trumpet's haughty sound,
Did send an echo to the vault where the admiral was bound.
"Now, help me God!" the captive cries, "what means this din so loud?
Oh, Queen of Heaven! be vengeance given on these thy haters proud!


"O! is it that some Pagan gay doth Marlotes' daughter wed,
And that they bear my scorned fair in triumph to his bed?
Or is it that the day is come—one of the hateful three,
When they, with trumpet, fife, and drum, make heathen game of me?"—


These words the jailer chanced to hear, and thus to him he said,
"These tabors, Lord, and trumpets clear, conduct no bride to bed;
Nor has the feast come round again, when he that has the right,
Commands thee forth, thou foe of Spain, to glad the people's sight.


"This is the joyful morning of John the Baptist's day,
When Moor and Christian feasts at home, each in his nation's way;
But now our King commands that none his banquet shall begin,
Until some knight, by strength or sleight, the spearman's prize do win."—


Then out and spake Guarinos, "O! soon each man should feed,
Were I but mounted once again on my own gallant steed.
O! were I mounted as of old, and harnessed cap-a-pee,
Full soon Marlotes' prize I'd hold, whate'er its price may be.


"Give me my horse, mine old grey horse, so be he is not dead,
All gallantly caparisoned, with plate on breast and head,
And give the lance I brought from France, and if I win it not,
My life shall be the forfeiture—I'll yield it on the spot."—


The jailer wondered at his words. Thus to the knight said he,
"Seven weary years of chains and gloom have little humbled thee;
There's never a man in Spain, I trow, the like so well might bear;
An' if thou wilt, I with thy vow will to the King repair."—


The jailer put his mantle on, and came unto the King,
He found him sitting on the throne, within his listed ring;
Close to his ear he planted him, and the story did begin,
How bold Guarinos vaunted him the spearman's prize to win.


That, were he mounted but once more on his own gallant grey,
And armed with the lance he bore on the Roncesvalles' day,
What never Moorish knight could pierce, he would pierce it at a blow,
Or give with joy his life-blood fierce, at Marlotes' feet to flow.


Much marvelling, then said the King, "Bring Sir Guarinos forth,
And in the Grange go seek ye for his grey steed of worth;
His arms are rusty on the wall—seven years have gone, I judge,
Since that strong horse has bent his force to be a carrion drudge.


"Now this will be a sight indeed, to see the enfeebled lord
Essay to mount that ragged steed, and draw that rusty sword;
And for the vaunting of his phrase he well deserves to die,
So, jailer, gird his harness on, and bring your champion nigh."—


They have girded on his shirt of mail, his cuisses well they've clasped,
And they've barred the helm on his visage pale, and his hand the lance hath clasped,
And they have caught the old grey horse, the horse he loved of yore,
And he stands pawing at the gate—caparisoned once more.


When the knight came out the Moors did shout, and loudly laughed the King,
For the horse he pranced and capered, and furiously did fling;
But Guarinos whispered in his ear, and looked into his face,
Then stood the old charger like a lamb, with a calm and gentle grace.


O! Lightly did Guarinos vault into the saddle-tree,
And slowly riding down made halt before Marlotes' knee;
Again the heathen laughed aloud—"All hail, Sir Knight," quoth he,
"Now do thy best, thou champion proud. Thy blood I look to see."—


With that Guarinos, lance in rest, against the scoffer rode,
Pierced at one thrust his envious breast, and down his turban trode.
Now ride, now ride, Guarinos—nor lance nor rowel spare—
Slay, slay, and gallop for thy life.—The land of France lies there!



This ballad is intended to represent the feelings of Don Sancho, Count of Saldenha or Saldaña, while imprisoned by King Alphonso, and, as he supposed, neglected and forgotten, both by his wife, or rather mistress, Donna Ximena, and by his son, the famous Bernardo del Carpio.


The Count Don Sancho Diaz, the Signior of Saldane,
Lies weeping in his prison, for he cannot refrain:—
King Alphonso and his sister, of both doth he complain,
But most of bold Bernardo, the champion of Spain.


"The weary years I durance brook, how many they have been,
When on these hoary hairs I look, may easily be seen;
When they brought me to this castle, my curls were black, I ween,
Woe worth the day! they have grown grey these rueful walls between.


"They tell me my Bernardo is the doughtiest lance in Spain,
But if he were my loyal heir, there's blood in every vein
Whereof the voice his heart would hear—his hand would not gainsay;—
Though the blood of kings be mixed with mine, it would not have all the sway.


"Now all the three have scorn of me—unhappy man am I!
They leave me without pity—they leave me here to die.
A stranger's feud, albeit rude, were little dole or care,
But he's my own, both flesh and bone; his scorn is ill to bear.


"From Jailer and from Castellain I hear of hardiment
And chivalry in listed plain on joust and tourney spent;—
I hear of many a battle, in which thy spear is red,
But help from thee comes none to me where I am ill bested.


"Some villain spot is in thy blood to mar its gentle strain,
Else would it show forth hardihood for him from whom 'twas ta'en;
Thy hope is young, thy heart is strong, but yet a day may be,
When thou shalt weep in dungeon deep, and none thy weeping see."



The ballads concerning Bernardo del Carpio are, upon the whole, in accordance with his history as given in the Coronica General. According to the Chronicle, Bernardo being at last wearied out of all patience by the cruelty of which his father was the victim, determined to quit the Court of his King, and seek an alliance among the Moors. Having fortified himself in the Castle of Carpio, he made continual incursions into the territory of Leon, pillaging and plundering wherever he came. The King at length besieged him in his stronghold, but the defence was so gallant, that there appeared no prospect of success; whereupon many of the gentlemen in Alphonso's camp entreated the King to offer Bernardo immediate possession of his father's person, if he would surrender his castle.

Bernardo at once consented; but the King gave orders to have Count Sancho Diaz taken off instantly in his prison. "When he was dead they clothed him in splendid attire, mounted him on horseback, and so led him towards Salamanca, where his son was expecting his arrival. As they drew nigh the city, the King and Bernardo rode out to meet them; and when Bernardo saw his father approaching, he exclaimed,—'O God! is the Count of Saldaña indeed coming?'—'Look where he is,' replied the cruel King; 'and now go and greet him whom you have so long desired to see.' Bernardo went forward and took his father's hand to kiss it; but when he felt the dead weight of the hand, and saw the livid face of the corpse, he cried aloud, and said,—'Ah, Don Sandiaz, in an evil hour didst thou beget me!—Thou art dead, and I have given my stronghold for thee, and now I have lost all.'"


All in the centre of the choir Bernardo's knees are bent,
Before him for his murdered sire yawns the old monument.


His kinsmen of the Carpio blood are kneeling at his back,
With knightly friends and vassals good, all garbed in weeds of black.


He comes to make the obsequies of a basely slaughtered man,
And tears are running down from eyes whence ne'er before they ran.


His head is bowed upon the stone; his heart, albeit full sore,
Is strong as when in days bygone he rode o'er Frank and Moor;


And now between his teeth he mutters, that none his words can hear;
And now the voice of wrath he utters, in curses loud and clear.


He stoops him o'er his father's shroud, his lips salute the bier;
He communes with the corse aloud, as if none else were near.


His right hand doth his sword unsheath, his left doth pluck his beard;—
And while his liegemen held their breath, these were the words they heard:—


"Go up, go up, thou blessed ghost, into the arms of God;
Go, fear not lest revenge be lost, when Carpio's blood hath flowed;


"The steel that drank the blood of France, the arm thy foe that shielded,
Still, Father, thirsts that burning lance, and still thy son can wield it."



The incident recorded in this ballad may be supposed to have occurred immediately after the funeral of the Count of Saldenha. As to what was the end of the knight's history, we are left almost entirely in the dark, both by the Chronicle and by the Romancero. It appears to be intimated, that after his father's death, he once more "took service" among the Moors, who are represented in several of the ballads as accustomed to exchange offices of courtesy with Bernardo.


With some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appeared
Before them all in the palace hall, the lying King to beard;
With cap in hand and eye on ground, he came in reverend guise,
But ever and anon he frowned, and flame broke from his eyes.


"A curse upon thee," cries the King, "who comest unbid to me;
But what from traitor's blood should spring, save traitors like to thee?
His sire, Lords, had a traitor's heart; perchance our Champion brave
Made think it were a pious part to share Don Sancho's grave."


"Whoever told this tale the King hath rashness to repeat,"
Cries Bernard, "here my gage I fling before the liar's feet!
No treason was in Sancho's blood, no stain in mine doth lie—
Below the throne what knight will own the coward calumny?


"The blood that I like water shed, when Roland did advance,
By secret traitors hired and led, to make us slaves of France;—
The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval,—
Your words, Lord King, are recompense abundant for it all.


"Your horse was down—your hope was flown—I saw the falchion shine,
That soon had drunk your royal blood, had not I ventured mine;
But memory soon of service done deserteth the ingrate,
And ye've thanked the son for life and crown by the father's bloody fate.


"Ye swore upon your kingly faith, to set Don Sancho free,
But curse upon your paltering breath, the light he ne'er did see;
He died in dungeon cold and dim, by Alphonso's base decree,
And visage blind, and stiffened limb, were all they gave to me.


"The King that swerveth from his word hath stained his purple black,
No Spanish Lord will draw the sword behind a Liar's back;
But noble vengeance shall be mine, an open hate I'll show—
The King hath injured Carpio's line, and Bernard is his foe."


"Seize—seize him!"—loud the King doth scream—"There are a thousand here—
Let his foul blood this instant stream—What! Caitiffs, do ye fear?
Seize—seize the traitor!"—But not one to move a finger dareth,—
Bernardo standeth by the throne, and calm his sword he bareth.


He drew the falchion from the sheath, and held it up on high,
And all the hall was still as death:—cries Bernard, "Here am I,
And here is the sword that owns no lord, excepting heaven and me;
Fain would I know who dares his point—King, Condé, or Grandee."


Then to his mouth the horn he drew—(it hung below his cloak)
His ten true men the signal knew, and through the ring they broke;
With helm on head, and blade in hand, the knights the circle brake,
And back the lordlings 'gan to stand, and the false king to quake.


"Ha! Bernard," quoth Alphonso, "what means this warlike guise?
Ye know full well I jested—ye know your worth I prize."—
But Bernard turned upon his heel, and smiling passed away—
Long rued Alphonso and his realm the jesting of that day.






The Ballads in the Collection of Escobar, entitled "Romancero e Historia del muy valeroso Cavallero El Cid Ruy Diaz de Bivar," are said by Mr. Southey to be in general possessed of but little merit. Notwithstanding the opinion of that great scholar and poet, I have had much pleasure in reading them; and have translated a very few, which may serve, perhaps, as a sufficient specimen.

The following is a version of that which stands fifth in Escobar:—

Cavalga Diego Laynez al buen Rey besar la mano, &c.


Now rides Diego Laynez, to kiss the good King's hand,
Three hundred men of gentry go with him from his land,
Among them, young Rodrigo, the proud Knight of Bivar;
The rest on mules are mounted, he on his horse of war.


They ride in glittering gowns of soye,—He harnessed like a lord;
There is no gold about the boy, but the crosslet of his sword;
The rest have gloves of sweet perfume,—He gauntlets strong of mail;
They broidered caps and flaunting plume,—He crest untaught to quail


All talking with each other thus along their way they passed,
But now they've come to Burgos, and met the King at last;
When they came near his nobles, a whisper through them ran,—
"He rides amidst the gentry that slew the Count Lozan."—


With very haughty gesture Rodrigo reined his horse,
Right scornfully he shouted, when he heard them so discourse,—
"If any of his kinsmen or vassals dare appear,
The man to give them answer, on horse or foot, is here."—


"The devil ask the question!" thus muttered all the band;—
With that they all alighted, to kiss the good King's hand,—
All but the proud Rodrigo, he in his saddle stayed,—
Then turned to him his father (you may hear the words he said).


"Now, light, my son, I pray thee, and kiss the good King's hand,
He is our lord, Rodrigo; we hold of him our land."—
But when Rodrigo heard him, he looked in sulky sort,—
I wot the words he answered they were both cold and short.


"Had any other said it, his pains had well been paid,
But thou, sir, art my father, thy word must be obeyed."—
With that he sprung down lightly, before the King to kneel,
But as the knee was bending, out leapt his blade of steel.


The King drew back in terror, when he saw the sword was bare;
"Stand back, stand back, Rodrigo, in the devil's name beware,
Your looks bespeak a creature of father Adam's mould,
But in your wild behaviour you're like some lion bold."


When Rodrigo heard him say so, he leapt into his seat,
And thence he made his answer, with visage nothing sweet,—
"I'd think it little honour to kiss a kingly palm,
And if my fathers kissed it, thereof ashamed I am."—


When he these words had uttered, he turned him from the gate,
His true three hundred gentles behind him followed straight;
If with good gowns they came that day, with better arms they went;
And if their mules behind did stay, with horses they're content.



This ballad, the sixth in Escobar, represents Ximena Gomez as, in person, demanding of the King vengeance for the death of her father, whom the young Rodrigo de Bivar had fought and slain.


Within the court at Burgos a clamour doth arise,
Of arms on armour clashing, and screams, and shouts, and cries;
The good men of the King, that sit his hall around,
All suddenly upspring, astonished at the sound.


The King leans from his chamber, from the balcony on high—
"What means this furious clamour my palace-porch so nigh?"
But when he looked below him, there were horsemen at the gate,
And the fair Ximena Gomez, kneeling in woeful state.


Upon her neck, disordered, hung down the lady's hair,
And floods of tears were streaming upon her bosom fair.
Sore wept she for her father, the Count that had been slain;
Loud cursèd she Rodrigo, whose sword his blood did stain.


They turned to bold Rodrigo, I wot his cheek was red;—
With haughty wrath he listened to the words Ximena said—
"Good King, I cry for justice. Now, as my voice thou hearest,
So God befriend the children, that in thy land thou rearest.


"The King that doth not justice hath forfeited his claim,
Both to his kingly station, and to his kingly name;
He should not sit at banquet, clad in the royal pall,
Nor should the nobles serve him on knee within the hall.


"Good King, I am descended from barons bright of old,
That with Castilian pennons, Pelayo did uphold;
But if my strain were lowly, as it is high and clear,
Thou still shouldst prop the feeble, and the afflicted hear.


"For thee, fierce homicide, draw, draw thy sword once more,
And pierce the breast which wide I spread thy stroke before;
Because I am a woman, my life thou needst not spare,—
I am Ximena Gomez, my slaughtered father's heir.


"Since thou hast slain the Knight that did our faith defend,
And still to shameful flight all the Almanzors send,
'Tis but a little matter that I confront thee so,
Come, champion, slay his daughter, she needs must be thy foe."—


Ximena gazed upon him, but no reply could meet;
His fingers held the bridle; he vaulted to his seat.
She turned her to the nobles, I wot her cry was loud,
But not a man durst follow; slow rode he through the crowd.



The reader will find the story of this ballad in Mr. Southey's "Chronicle of the Cid." "And the Moors entered Castile in great power, for there came with them five kings," &c. Book I. Sect. 4.


With fire and desolation the Moors are in Castile,
Five Moorish kings together, and all their vassals leal;
They've passed in front of Burgos, through the Oca-Hills they've run,
They've plundered Belforado, San Domingo's harm is done.


In Najara and Lograno there's waste and disarray:—
And now with Christian captives, a very heavy prey,
With many men and women, and boys and girls beside,
In joy and exultation to their own realms they ride.


For neither king nor noble would dare their path to cross,
Until the good Rodrigo heard of this skaith and loss;
In old Bivar the castle he heard the tidings told,
(He was as yet a stripling, not twenty summers old.)


He mounted Bavieca, his friends he with him took,
He raised the country round him, no more such scorn to brook;
He rode to the hills of Oca, where then the Moormen lay,
He conquered all the Moormen, and took from them their prey.


To every man had mounted he gave his part of gain,
Dispersing the much treasure the Saracens had ta'en;
The Kings were all the booty himself had from the war,
Them led he to the castle, his stronghold of Bivar.


He brought them to his mother, proud dame that day was she:—
They owned him for their Signior, and then he set them free:
Home went they, much commending Rodrigo of Bivar,
And sent him lordly tribute, from their Moorish realms afar.



See Mr. Southey's "Chronicle of the Cid" (Book I. Sect. V) for this part of the Cid's story, as given in the General Chronicle of Spain.


Now, of Rodrigo de Bivar great was the fame that run,
How he five Kings had vanquished, proud Moormen every one;
And how, when they consented to hold of him their ground,
He freed them from the prison wherein they had been bound.


To the good King Fernando, in Burgos where he lay,
Came then Ximena Gomez, and thus to him did say:—
"I am Don Gomez' daughter, in Gormaz Count was he;
Him slew Rodrigo of Bivar in battle valiantly.


"Now am I come before you, this day a boon to crave,
And it is that I to husband may this Rodrigo have;
Grant this, and I shall hold me a happy damosell,
Much honoured shall I hold me, I shall be married well.


"I know he's born for thriving, none like him in the land;
I know that none in battle against his spear may stand;
Forgiveness is well pleasing in God our Saviour's view.
And I forgive him freely, for that my sire he slew."—


Right pleasing to Fernando was the thing she did propose;
He writes his letter swiftly, and forth his foot-page goes;
I wot, when young Rodrigo saw how the King did write,
He leapt on Bavieca—I wot his leap was light.


With his own troop of true men forthwith he took the way,
Three hundred friends and kinsmen, all gently born were they;
All in one colour mantled, in armour gleaming gay,
New were both scarf and scabbard, when they went forth that day.


The King came out to meet him, with words of hearty cheer;
Quoth he, "My good Rodrigo, you are right welcome here;
This girl Ximena Gomez would have ye for her lord,
Already for the slaughter her grace she doth accord.


"I pray you be consenting, my gladness will be great;
You shall have lands in plenty, to strengthen your estate."—
"Lord King," Rodrigo answers, "in this and all beside
Command, and I'll obey you. The girl shall be my bride."—


But when the fair Ximena came forth to plight her hand,
Rodrigo, gazing on her, his face could not command:
He stood and blushed before her;—thus at the last said he—
"I slew thy sire, Ximena, but not in villany:—


"In no disguise I slew him, man against man I stood;
There was some wrong between us, and I did shed his blood.
I slew a man, I owe a man; fair lady, by God's grace,
An honoured husband thou shalt have in thy dead father's place."



The following ballad, which contains some curious traits of rough and antique manners, is not included in Escobar's Collection. There is one there descriptive of the same event, but apparently executed by a much more modern hand.


Within his hall of Burgos the King prepares the feast:
He makes his preparation for many a noble guest.
It is a joyful city, it is a gallant day,
'Tis the Campeador's wedding, and who will bide away?


Layn Calvo, the Lord Bishop, he first comes forth the gate,
Behind him comes Ruy Diaz, in all his bridal state;
The crowd makes way before them as up the street they go;—
For the multitude of people their steps must needs be slow.


The King had taken order that they should rear an arch,
From house to house all over, in the way where they must march;
They have hung it all with lances, and shields, and glittering helms,
Brought by the Campeador from out the Moorish realms.


They have scattered olive branches and rushes on the street,
And the ladies fling down garlands at the Campeador's feet;
With tapestry and broidery their balconies between,
To do his bridal honour, their walls the burghers screen.


They lead the bulls before them all covered o'er with trappings;
The little boys pursue them with hootings and with clappings;
The fool, with cap and bladder, upon his ass goes prancing,
Amidst troops of captive maidens with bells and cymbals dancing.


With antics and with fooleries, with shouting and with laughter,
They fill the streets of Burgos—and The Devil he comes after,
For the King has hired the horned fiend for sixteen maravedis,
And there he goes, with hoofs for toes, to terrify the ladies.


Then comes the bride Ximena—the King he holds her hand;
And the Queen, and, all in fur and pall, the nobles of the land;
All down the street the ears of wheat are round Ximena flying,
But the King lifts off her bosom sweet whatever there is lying.


Quoth Suero, when he saw it, (his thought you understand,)
"'Tis a fine thing to be a King; but Heaven make me a Hand!"
The King was very merry, when he was told of this,
And swore the bride ere eventide, must give the boy a kiss.


The King went always talking, but she held down her head,
And seldom gave an answer to anything he said;
It was better to be silent, among such a crowd of folk,
Than utter words so meaningless as she did when she spoke.



Like our own Robert the Bruce, the great Spanish hero is represented as exhibiting, on many occasions, great gentleness of disposition and compassion. But while old Barbour is contented with such simple anecdotes as that of a poor laundress being suddenly taken ill with the pains of childbirth, and the king stopping the march of his army rather than leave her unprotected, the minstrels of Spain, never losing an opportunity of gratifying the superstitious propensities of their audience, are sure to let no similar incident in their champion's history pass without a miracle.


He has ta'en some twenty gentlemen, along with him to go,
For he will pay that ancient vow he to Saint James doth owe;
To Compostella, where the shrine doth by the altar stand,
The good Rodrigo de Bivar is riding through the land.


Where'er he goes, much alms he throws, to feeble folk and poor;
Beside the way for him they pray, him blessings to procure;
For, God and Mary Mother, their heavenly grace to win,
His hand was ever bountiful: great was his joy therein.


And there, in middle of the path, a leper did appear;
In a deep slough the leper lay, none would to help come near.
With a loud voice he thence did cry, "For God our Saviour's sake,
From out this fearful jeopardy a Christian brother take."—


When Roderick heard that piteous word, he from his horse came down;
For all they said, no stay he made, that noble champion;
He reached his hand to pluck him forth, of fear was no account,
Then mounted on his steed of worth, and made the leper mount.


Behind him rode the leprous man; when to their hostelrie
They came, he made him eat with him at table cheerfully;
While all the rest from that poor guest with loathing shrunk away,
To his own bed the wretch he led, beside him there he lay.


All at the mid-hour of the night, while good Rodrigo slept,
A breath came from the leprous man, it through his shoulders crept;
Right through the body, at the breast, passed forth that breathing cold;
I wot he leaped up with a start, in terrors manifold.


He groped for him in the bed, but him he could not find,
Through the dark chamber groped he, with very anxious mind;
Loudly he lifted up his voice, with speed a lamp was brought,
Yet nowhere was the leper seen, though far and near they sought.


He turned him to his chamber, God wot, perplexèd sore
With that which had befallen—when lo! his face before,
There stood a man, all clothed in vesture shining white:
Thus said the vision, "Sleepest thou, or wakest thou, Sir Knight?"—


"I sleep not," quoth Rodrigo; "but tell me who art thou,
For, in the midst of darkness, much light is on thy brow?"—
"I am the holy Lazarus, I come to speak with thee;
I am the same poor leper thou savedst for charity.


"Not vain the trial, nor in vain thy victory hath been;
God favours thee, for that my pain thou didst relieve yestreen.
There shall be honour with thee, in battle and in peace,
Success in all thy doings, and plentiful increase.


"Strong enemies shall not prevail, thy greatness to undo;
Thy name shall make men's cheeks full pale—Christians and Moslem too;
A death of honour shalt thou die, such grace to thee is given,
Thy soul shall part victoriously, and be received in heaven."—


When he these gracious words had said, the spirit vanished quite,
Rodrigo rose and knelt him down—he knelt till morning light;
Unto the Heavenly Father, and Mary Mother dear,
He made his prayer right humbly, till dawned the morning clear.



Montaigne, in his curious Essay, entitled "Des Destriers," says that all the world knows everything about Bucephalus. The name of the favourite charger of the Cid Ruy Diaz, is scarcely less celebrated. Notice is taken of him in almost every one of the hundred ballads concerning the history of his master,—and there are two or three of these, of which the horse is more truly the hero than his rider. In one of these ballads, the Cid is giving directions about his funeral; he desires that they shall place his body "in full armour upon Bavieca," and so conduct him to the church of San Pedro de Cardeña. This was done accordingly; and, says another ballad—

Truxeron pues a Babieca;
Y en mirandole se puso
Tan triste como si fuera
Mas rasonable que bruto.

In the Cid's last will, mention is also made of this noble charger. "When ye bury Bavieca, dig deep," says Ruy Diaz; "for shameful thing were it, that he should be eat by curs, who hath trampled down so much currish flesh of Moors."


The King looked on him kindly, as on a vassal true;
Then to the King Ruy Diaz spake after reverence due,—
"O King, the thing is shameful, that any man beside
The liege lord of Castile himself should Bavieca ride:


"For neither Spain nor Araby could another charger bring
So good as he, and certes, the best befits my King.
But that you may behold him, and know him to the core,
I'll make him go as he was wont when his nostrils smelt the Moor."—


With that, the Cid, clad as he was in mantle furred and wide,
On Bavieca vaulting, put the rowel in his side;
And up and down, and round and round, so fierce was his career,
Streamed like a pennon on the wind Ruy Diaz' minivere.


And all that saw them praised them—they lauded man and horse,
As matched well, and rivalless for gallantry and force;
Ne'er had they looked on horseman might to this knight come near,
Nor on other charger worthy of such a cavalier.


Thus, to and fro a-rushing the fierce and furious steed,
He snapt in twain his hither rein:—"God pity now the Cid."
"God pity Diaz," cried the Lords,—but when they looked again,
They saw Ruy Diaz ruling him, with the fragment of his rein;
They saw him proudly ruling with gesture firm and calm,
Like a true lord commanding—and obeyed as by a lamb.


And so he led him foaming and panting to the King,
But "No," said Don Alphonso, "it were a shameful thing
That peerless Bavieca should ever be bestrid
By any mortal but Bivar—Mount, mount again, my Cid."



The last specimen I shall give of the Cid-ballad, is one the subject of which is evidently of the most apocryphal cast. It is, however, so far as I recollect, the only one of all that immense collection that is quoted or alluded to in Don Quixote. "Sancho," cried Don Quixote, "I am afraid of being excommunicated for having laid violent hands upon a man in holy orders, Juxta illud; si quis suadente diabolo, &c. But yet, now I think on it, I never touched him with my hands, but only with my lance; besides, I did not in the least suspect I had to do with priests, whom I honour and revere as every good Catholic and faithful Christian ought to do, but rather took them to be evil spirits. Well, let the worst come to the worst, I remember what befel the Cid Ruy Diaz, when he broke to pieces the chair of a king's ambassador in the Pope's presence, for which he was excommunicated; which did not hinder the worthy Rodrigo de Bivar from behaving himself that day like a valorous knight, and a man of honour."


It was when from Spain across the main the Cid had come to Rome,
He chanced to see chairs four and three beneath Saint Peter's dome.
"Now tell, I pray, what chairs be they;"—"Seven kings do sit thereon,
As well doth suit, all at the foot of the holy Father's throne."


"The Pope he sitteth above them all, that they may kiss his toe,
Below the keys the Flower-de-lys doth make a gallant show:
For his great puissance, the King of France next to the Pope may sit,
The rest more low, all in a row, as doth their station fit."—


"Ha!" quoth the Cid, "now God forbid! it is a shame, I wiss,
To see the Castle5 planted beneath the Flower-de-lys.6
No harm, I hope, good Father Pope—although I move thy chair."
—In pieces small he kicked it all, ('twas of the ivory fair).


The Pope's own seat he from his feet did kick it far away,
And the Spanish chair he planted upon its place that day;
Above them all he planted it, and laughed right bitterly;
Looks sour and bad I trow he had, as grim as grim might be.


Now when the Pope was aware of this, he was an angry man,
His lips that night, with solemn rite, pronounced the awful ban;
The curse of God, who died on rood, was on that sinner's head—
To hell and woe man's soul must go if once that curse be said.


I wot, when the Cid was aware of this, a woful man was he,
At dawn of day he came to pray at the blessèd Father's knee:
"Absolve me, blessèd Father, have pity upon me,
Absolve my soul, and penance I for my sin will dree."—


"Who is this sinner," quoth the Pope, "that at my foot doth kneel?"
—"I am Rodrigo Diaz—a poor Baron of Castile."—
Much marvelled all were in the hall, when that name they heard him say,
—"Rise up, rise up," the Pope he said, "I do thy guilt away;—


"I do thy guilt away," he said—"and my curse I blot it out—
God save Rodrigo Diaz, my Christian champion stout;—
I trow, if I had known thee, my grief it had been sore,
To curse Ruy Diaz de Bivar, God's scourge upon the Moor."






Mr. Bouterweck has analyzed this ballad, and commented upon it at some length, in his History of Spanish Literature. See Book I, Section 1.

He bestows particular praise upon a passage, which the reader will find attempted in the fourth line of stanza xxxi. of the following version—

Dedes me aça este hijo amamare por despedida.

"What modern poet," says he, "would have dared to imagine that trait, at once so natural and touching?"

Mr. Bouterweck seems to be of opinion that the story of the ballad had been taken from some prose romance of chivalry; but I have not been able to find any trace of it.


Alone, as was her wont, she sate,—within her bower alone;—
Alone, and very desolate, Solisa made her moan,
Lamenting for her flower of life, that it should pass away,
And she be never wooed to wife, nor see a bridal day.


Thus said the sad Infanta—"I will not hide my grief,
I'll tell my father of my wrong, and he will yield relief."—
The King, when he beheld her near, "Alas! my child," said he,
"What means this melancholy cheer?—reveal thy grief to me."—


"Good King," she said, "my mother was buried long ago,
She left me to thy keeping, none else my griefs shall know;
I fain would have a husband, 'tis time that I should wed,—
Forgive the words I utter, with mickle shame they're said."—


'Twas thus the King made answer,—"This fault is none of mine,
You to the Prince of Hungary your ear would not incline;
Yet round us here where lives your peer?—nay, name him if you can,—
Except the Count Alarcos, and he's a married man."—


"Ask Count Alarcos, if of yore his word he did not plight
To be my husband evermore, and love me day and night?
If he has bound him in new vows, old oaths he cannot break—
Alas! I've lost a loyal spouse, for a false lover's sake."—


The good King sat confounded in silence for some space,
At length he made this answer, with very troubled face,—
"It was not thus your mother gave counsel you should do;
You've done much wrong, my daughter; we're shamed, both I and you.


"If it be true that you have said, our honour's lost and gone;
And while the Countess is in life, remeed for us is none.
Though justice were upon our side, ill-talkers would not spare—
Speak, daughter, for your mother's dead, whose counsel eased my care."


"How can I give you counsel?—but little wit have I;
But certes, Count Alarcos may make this Countess die;
Let it be noised that sickness cut short her tender life,
And then let Count Alarcos come and ask me for his wife.
What passed between us long ago, of that be nothing said;
Thus none shall our dishonour know, in honour I shall wed."—


The Count was standing with his friends, thus in the midst he spake—
"What fools we be! what pains men dree for a fair woman's sake!
I loved a fair one long ago;—though I'm a married man,
Sad memory I can ne'er forego, how life and love began."—


While yet the Count was speaking, the good King came full near;
He made his salutation with very courteous cheer.
"Come hither, Count Alarcos, and dine with me this day,
For I have something secret I in your ear must say."—


The King came from the chapel, when he had heard the mass;
With him the Count Alarcos did to his chamber pass;
Full nobly were they servèd there, by pages many a one;
When all were gone, and they alone, 'twas thus the King begun.—


"What news be these, Alarcos, that you your word did plight,
To be a husband to my child, and love her day and night?
If more between you there did pass, yourself may know the truth,
But shamed is my grey-head—alas!—and scorned Solisa's youth.


"I have a heavy word to speak—a lady fair doth lie
Within my daughter's rightful place, and certes! she must die—
Let it be noised that sickness cut short her tender life,
Then come and woo my daughter, and she shall be your wife:—
What passed between you long ago, of that be nothing said,
Thus, none shall my dishonour know—in honour you shall wed."


Thus spake the Count Alarcos—"The truth I'll not deny,
I to the Infanta gave my troth, and broke it shamefully;
I feared my King would ne'er consent to give me his fair daughter;
But, oh! spare her that's innocent—avoid that sinful slaughter."—


"She dies, she dies," the King replies; "from thine own sin it springs,
If guiltless blood must wash the blot which stains the blood of kings:
Ere morning dawn her life must end, and thine must be the deed,
Else thou on shameful block must bend: thereof is no remeed."


"Good King, my hand thou mayst command, else treason blots my name!
I'll take the life of my dear wife—(God! mine be not the blame!)
Alas! that young and sinless heart for others' sin should bleed!
Good King, in sorrow I depart."——"May God your errand speed!"—


In sorrow he departed, dejectedly he rode
The weary journey from that place, unto his own abode;
He grieved for his fair Countess, dear as his life was she;
Sore grieved he for that lady, and for his children three.


The one was yet an infant upon its mother's breast,
For though it had three nurses, it liked her milk the best;
The others were young children, that had but little wit,
Hanging about their mother's knee while nursing she did sit.


"Alas!" he said, when he had come within a little space,
"How shall I brook the cheerful look of my kind lady's face?
To see her coming forth in glee to meet me in my hall,
When she so soon a corpse must be, and I the cause of all!"


Just then he saw her at the door with all her babes appear—
(The little page had run before to tell his lord was near)
"Now welcome home, my lord, my life!—Alas! you droop your head
Tell, Count Alarcos, tell your wife, what makes your eyes so red?"—


"I'll tell you all—I'll tell you all: It is not yet the hour;
We'll sup together in the hall—I'll tell you in your bower."
The lady brought forth what she had, and down beside him sate;
He sat beside her pale and sad, but neither drank nor ate.


The children to his side were led (he loved to have them so),
Then on the board he laid his head, and out his tears did flow:—
"I fain would sleep—I fain would sleep,"—the Count Alarcos said:—
Alas! be sure, that sleep was none that night within their bed.


They came together to the bower where they were used to rest,
None with them but the little babe that was upon the breast:
The Count had barred the chamber doors, they ne'er were barred till then;
"Unhappy lady," he began, "and I most lost of men!"


"Now, speak not so, my noble lord, my husband and my life,
Unhappy never can she be, that is Alarcos' wife."—
"Alas! unhappy lady, 'tis but little that you know,
For in that very word you've said is gathered all your woe.


"Long since I loved a lady,—long since I oaths did plight,
To be that lady's husband, to love her day and night;
Her father is our lord the King, to him the thing is known,
And now, that I the news should bring! she claims me for her own.


"Alas! my love, alas! my life, the right is on their side;
Ere I had seen your face, sweet wife, she was betrothed my bride;
But, oh! that I should speak the word—since in her place you lie,
It is the bidding of our Lord, that you this night must die."—


"Are these the wages of my love, so lowly and so leal?—
O, kill me not, thou noble Count, when at thy foot I kneel!—
But send me to my father's house, where once I dwelt in glee,
There will I live a lone chaste life, and rear my children three."—


"It may not be—mine oath is strong—ere dawn of day you die!"—
"O! well 'tis seen how all alone upon the earth am I—
My father is an old frail man,—my mother's in her grave,—
And dead is stout Don Garcia—Alas! my brother brave!


"'Twas at this coward King's command they slew my brother dear,
And now I'm helpless in the land:—It is not death I fear,
But loth, loth am I to depart, and leave my children so—
Now let me lay them to my heart, and kiss them ere I go."—


"Kiss him that lies upon thy breast—the rest thou mayst not see."—
"I fain would say an Ave."—"Then say it speedily."—
She knelt her down upon her knee: "O Lord! behold my case—
Judge not my deeds, but look on me in pity and great grace."—


When she had made her orison, up from her knees she rose—
"Be kind, Alarcos, to our babes, and pray for my repose—
And now give me my boy once more upon my breast to hold,
That he may drink one farewell drink, before my breast be cold."—


"Why would you waken the poor child? you see he is asleep—
Prepare, dear wife, there is no time, the dawn begins to peep."—
"Now hear me, Count Alarcos! I give thee pardon free—
I pardon thee for the love's sake wherewith I've lovèd thee.


"But they have not my pardon, the King and his proud daughter—
The curse of God be on them, for this unchristian slaughter!—
I charge them with my dying breath, ere thirty days be gone,
To meet me in the realm of death, and at God's awful throne!"—


He drew a kerchief round her neck, he drew it tight and strong,
Until she lay quite stiff and cold her chamber floor along;
He laid her then within the sheets, and, kneeling by her side,
To God and Mary Mother in misery he cried.


Then called he for his esquires:—oh! deep was their dismay,
When they into the chamber came, and saw her how she lay;—
Thus died she in her innocence, a lady void of wrong,
But God took heed of their offence—his vengeance stayed not long.


Within twelve days, in pain and dole, the Infanta passed away,
The cruel King gave up his soul upon the twentieth day;
Alarcos followed ere the Moon had made her round complete.—
Three guilty spirits stood right soon before God's judgment-seat.







I.   The Eight Pennies.
II.   The Three Truths.
III.   The Husband of Aglaes.
IV.   The Three Caskets.
V.   The Three Cakes.
VI.   The Hermit.
VII.   The Lost Foot.
VIII.   Placidus.
IX.   Dead Alexander.
X.   The Tree of Paletinus.
XI.   Hungry Flies.
XII.   The Humbling of Jovinian.
XIII.   The Two Physicians.
XIV.   The Falcon.
XV.   Let the Laziest be King.
XVI.   The Three Maxims.
XVII.   A Loaf for a Dream.
XVIII.   Lower than the Beasts.
XIX.   Of Real Friendship.
XX.   Royal Bounty.
XXI.   Wily Beguiled.
XXII.   The Basilisk.
XXIII.   The Trump of Death.
XXIV.   Alexander and the Pirate.
XXV.   A Tale of a Penny.
XXVI.   Of Avoiding Imprecations.
XXVII.   A Verse Exercise.
XXVIII.   Bred in the Bone.
XXIX.   Fulgentius.
XXX.   Vengeance Deferred.




When Titus was Emperor of Rome, he made a decree that the natal day of his first-born son should be held sacred, and that whosoever violated it by any kind of labour should be put to death. Then he called Virgil to him, and said, "Good friend, I have made a certain law; we desire you to frame some curious piece of art which may reveal to us every transgressor of the law." Virgil constructed a magic statue, and caused it to be set up in the midst of the city. By virtue of the secret powers with which it was invested, it told the emperor whatever was done amiss. And thus by the accusation of the statue, an infinite number of persons were convicted and punished.

Now there was a certain carpenter, called Focus, who pursued his occupation every day alike. Once, as he lay in bed, his thoughts turned upon the accusations of the statue, and the multitudes which it had caused to perish. In the morning he clothed himself, and proceeded to the statue, which he addressed in the following manner: "O statue! statue! because of thy informations, many of our citizens have been taken and slain. I vow to my God, that if thou accusest me, I will break thy head." Having so said, he returned home.

About the first hour, the emperor, as he was wont, despatched sundry messengers to the statue, to inquire if the edict had been strictly complied with. After they had arrived, and delivered the emperors pleasure, the statue exclaimed: "Friends, look up; what see ye written upon my forehead?" They looked, and beheld three sentences which ran thus: "Times are altered. Men grow worse. He who speaks truth has his head broken." "Go," said the statue, "declare to his majesty what you have seen and read." The messengers obeyed, and detailed the circumstances as they had happened.

The emperor therefore commanded his guard to arm, and march to the place on which the statue was erected; and he further ordered, that if any one presumed to molest it, they should bind him hand and foot, and drag him into his presence.

The soldiers approached the statue and said, "Our emperor wills you to declare the name of the scoundrel who threatens you."

The statue made answer, "It is Focus the carpenter. Every day he violates the law, and, moreover, menaces me with a broken head, if I expose him."

Immediately Focus was apprehended, and conducted to the emperor, who said, "Friend, what do I hear of thee? Why hast thou broken my law?"

"My lord," answered Focus, "I cannot keep it; for I am obliged to obtain every day eight pennies, which, without incessant work, I have not the means of getting."

"And why eight pennies?" said the emperor.

"Every day through the year," returned the carpenter, "I am bound to repay two pennies which I borrowed in my youth; two I lend; two I lose; and two I spend."

"For what reason do you this?" asked the emperor.

"My lord," he replied, "listen to me. I am bound each day to repay two pennies to my father; for, when I was a boy, my father expended upon me daily the like sum. Now he is poor, and needs my assistance, and therefore I return what I borrowed formerly. Two other pennies I lend to my son, who is pursuing his studies; in order, that if by any chance I should fall into poverty, he may restore the loan, just as I have done to his grandfather. Again, I lose two pennies every day on my wife; for she is contradictious, wilful, and passionate. Now, because of this disposition, I account whatsoever is given to her entirely lost. Lastly, two other pennies I expend upon myself in meat and drink. I cannot do with less, nor can I earn them without unremitting labour. You now know the truth; and, I pray you, judge dispassionately and truly."

"Friend," said the emperor, "thou hast answered well. Go, and labour earnestly in thy calling."

Soon after this the emperor died, and Focus the carpenter, on account of his singular wisdom, was elected in his stead by the unanimous choice of the whole nation. He governed as wisely as he had lived; and at his death, his picture, bearing on the head eight pennies, was reposited among the effigies of the deceased emperors.



A certain king, named Asmodeus, established an ordinance, by which every malefactor taken and brought before the judge, should distinctly declare three truths, against which no exception could be taken, or else be hanged. If, however, he did this, his life and property should be safe. It chanced that a certain soldier transgressed the law and fled. He hid himself in a forest, and there committed many atrocities, despoiling and slaying whomsoever he could lay his hands upon. When the judge of the district ascertained his haunt, he ordered the forest to be surrounded, and the soldier to be seized, and brought bound to the seat of judgment.

"You know the law," said the judge.

"I do," returned the other. "If I declare three unquestionable truths I shall be free; but if not, I must die."

"True," replied the judge; "take then advantage of the law's clemency, or undergo the punishment it awards without delay."

"Cause silence to be kept," said the soldier undauntedly.

His wish being complied with, he proceeded in the following manner: "The first truth is this. I protest before ye all, that from my youth up, I have been a bad man."

The judge, hearing this, said to the bystanders, "He says true?" They answered: "Else he had not now been in this situation." "Go on, then," said the judge. "What is the second truth?"

"I like not," exclaimed he, "the dangerous situation in which I stand."

"Certainly," said the judge, "we may credit thee. Now then for the third truth, and thou hast saved thy life."

"Why," he replied, "if I once get out of this confounded place, I will never willingly re-enter it."

"Amen," said the judge, "thy wit hath preserved thee; go in peace." And thus he was saved.



In Rome some time dwelt a mighty emperor named Philominus, who had one only daughter, who was fair and gracious in the sight of every man, who had to name Aglaes. There was also in the emperor's palace a gentle knight that loved dearly this lady. It befell after on a day, that this knight talked with this lady, and secretly uttered his desire to her. Then she said courteously, "Seeing you have uttered to me the secrets of your heart, I will likewise for your love utter to you the secrets of my heart: and truly I say, that above all other I love you best." Then said the knight, "I purpose to visit the Holy Land, and therefore give me your troth, that this seven years you shall take no other man, but only for my love to tarry for me so long, and if I come not again by this day seven years, then take what man you like best. And likewise I promise you that within this seven years I will take no wife." Then said she, "This covenant pleaseth me well." When this was said, each of them was betrothed to other, and then this knight took his leave of the lady, and went to the Holy Land.

Shortly after the emperor treated with the king of Hungary for the marriage of his daughter. Then came the king of Hungary to the emperor's palace, and when he had seen his daughter, he liked marvellous well her beauty and her behaviour, so that the emperor and the king were accorded in all things as touching the marriage, upon the condition that the damsel would consent. Then called the emperor the young lady to him, and said, "O, my fair daughter, I have provided for thee, that a king shall be thy husband, if thou list consent; therefore tell me what answer thou wilt give to this." Then said she to her father, "It pleaseth me well; but one thing, dear father, I entreat of you, if it might please you to grant me: I have vowed to keep my virginity, and not to marry these seven years; therefore, dear father, I beseech you for all the love that is between your gracious fatherhood and me, that you name no man to be my husband till these seven years be ended, and then I shall be ready in all things to fulfil your will." Then said the emperor, "Sith it is so that thou hast thus vowed, I will not break thy vow; but when these seven years be expired, thou shalt have the king of Hungary to thy husband."

Then the emperor sent forth his letters to the king of Hungary, praying him if it might please him to stay seven years for the love of his daughter, and then he should speed without fail. Herewith the king was pleased and content to stay the prefixed day.

And when the seven years were ended, save a day, the young lady stood in her chamber window, and wept sore, saying, "Woe and alas, as to-morrow my love promised to be with me again from the Holy Land; and also the king of Hungary to-morrow will be here to marry me, according to my father's promise; and if my love comes not at a certain hour, then am I utterly deceived of the inward love I bear to him."

When the day came, the king hasted toward the emperor, to marry his daughter, and was royally arrayed in purple. And while the king was riding on his way, there came a knight riding on his way, who said, "I am of the empire of Rome, and now am lately come from the Holy Land, and I am ready to do you the best service I can." And as they rode talking by the way, it began to rain so fast that all the king's apparel was sore wet. Then said the knight, "My lord, ye have done foolishly, for as much as ye brought not with you your house." Then said the king: "Why speakest thou so? My house is large and broad, and made of stones and mortar, how should I bring then with me my house? Thou speakest like a fool." When this was said, they rode on till they came to a great deep water, and the king smote his horse with his spurs, and leapt into the water, so that he was almost drowned. When the knight saw this, and was over on the other side of the water without peril, he said to the king, "Ye were in peril, and therefore ye did foolishly, because ye brought not with you your bridge." Then said the king, "Thou speakest strangely: my bridge is made of lime and stone, and containeth in quality more than half a mile; how should I then bear with me my bridge? therefore thou speakest foolishly." "Well," said the knight, "my foolishness may turn you to wisdom." When the king had ridden a little further, he asked the knight what time of day it was. Then said the knight, "If any man hath list to eat, it is time of the day to eat. Wherefore, my lord, pray take a modicum with me, for that is no dishonour to you, but great honour to me before the states of this empire." Then said the king, "I will gladly eat with thee." They sat both down in a fair vine garden, and there dined together, both the king and the knight. And when dinner was done, and that the king had washed, the knight said unto the king, "My lord, ye have done foolishly, for that ye brought not with you your father and mother." Then said the king, "What sayest thou? My father is dead, and my mother is old, and may not travel; how should I then bring them with me? Therefore, to say the truth, a foolisher man than thou art did I never hear." Then said the knight, "Every work is praised at the end."

When the knight had ridden a little further, and nigh to the emperor's palace, he asked leave to go from him; for he knew a nearer way to the palace, to the young lady, that he might come first, and carry her away with him. Then said the king, "I pray thee tell me by what place thou purposest to ride?" Then said the knight, "I shall tell you the truth. This day seven years I left a net in a place, and now I purpose to visit it, and draw it to me, and if it be whole, then will I take it to me, and keep it as a precious jewel; if it be broken, then will I leave it." And when he had thus said, he took his leave of the king, and rode forth; but the king kept the broad highway.

When the emperor heard of the king's coming, he went towards him with a great company, and royally received him, causing him to shift his wet clothes, and to put on fresh apparel. And when the emperor and the king were set at meat, the emperor welcomed him with all the cheer and solace that he could. And when he had eaten, the emperor asked tidings of the king. "My lord," said he, "I shall tell you what I have heard this day by the way: there came a knight to me, and reverently saluted me; and anon after there fell a great rain, and greatly spoiled my apparel. And anon the knight said, 'Sir, ye have done foolishly, for that ye brought not with you your house.'" Then said the emperor, "What clothing had the knight on?" "A cloak," quoth the king. Then said the emperor, "Sure that was a wise man, for the house whereof he spake was a cloak, and therefore he said to you that you did foolishly, because had you come with your cloak, then your clothes had not been spoiled with rain." Then said the king, "When he had ridden a little further, we came to a deep water, and I smote my horse with my spurs, and I was almost drowned, but he rid through the water without any peril. Then said he to me, 'You did foolishly, for that you brought not with you your bridge.'" "Verily," said the emperor, "he said truth, for he called the squires the bridge, that should have ridden before you, and assayed the deepness of the water." Then said the king, "We rode further, and at the last he prayed me to dine with him. And when he had dined, he said, I did unwisely, because I brought not with me my father and mother." "Truly," said the emperor, "he was a wise man, and saith wisely: for he called your father and mother, bread and wine, and other victual." Then said the king, "We rode further, and anon after he asked me leave to go from me, and I asked earnestly whither he went; and he answered again, and said, 'This day seven years I left a net in a private place, and now I will ride to see it; and if it be broken and torn, then will I leave it, but if it be as I left it, then shall it be unto me right precious.'"

When the emperor heard this, he cried with a loud voice, and said, "O ye my knights and servants, come ye with me speedily unto my daughter's chamber, for surely that is the net of which he spake." And forthwith his knights and servants went unto his daughter's chamber, and found her not, for the aforesaid knight had taken her with him. And thus the king was deceived of the damsel, and he went home again to his own country ashamed.



Some time dwelt in Rome a mighty emperor, named Anselm, who had married the king's daughter of Jerusalem, a fair lady, and gracious in the sight of every man, but she was long time with the emperor ere she bare him any child; wherefore the nobles of the empire were very sorrowful, because their lord had no heir of his own body begotten: till at last it befell, that this Anselm walked after supper, in an evening, into his garden, and bethought himself that he had no heir, and how the king of Ampluy warred on him continually, for so much as he had no son to make defence in his absence; therefore he was sorrowful, and went to his chamber and slept. Then he thought he saw a vision in his sleep, that the morning was more clear than it was wont to be, and that the moon was much paler on the one side than on the other. And after he saw a bird of two colours, and by that bird stood two beasts, which fed that little bird with their heat. And after that came more beasts, and bowing their breasts toward the bird, went their way. Then came there divers birds that sung sweetly and pleasantly: with that the emperor awaked.

In the morning early this Anselm remembered his vision, and wondered much what it might signify; wherefore he called to him his philosophers, and all the states of the empire, and told them his dream, charging them to tell him the signification thereof on pain of death, and if they told him the true interpretation thereof, he promised them good reward. Then said they, "Dear lord, tell us your dream, and we shall declare to you what it betokens." Then the emperor told them from the beginning to the ending, as is aforesaid. When the philosophers heard this, with glad cheer they answered, and said, "Sir, the vision that you saw betokeneth good, for the empire shall be clearer than it is.

"The moon that is more pale on the one side than on the other, betokeneth the empress, that hath lost part of her colour, through the conception of a son that she hath conceived. The little bird betokeneth the son that she shall bare. The two beasts that fed this bird betoken the wise and rich men of the empire which shall obey the son. These other beasts that bowed their breasts to the bird betoken many other nations that shall do him homage. The bird that sang so sweetly to this little bird betokeneth the Romans, who shall rejoice and sing because of his birth. This is the very interpretation of your dream."

When the emperor heard this, he was right joyful. Soon after that, the empress travailed in childbirth, and was delivered of a fair son, at whose birth there was great and wonderful joy made.

When the king of Ampluy heard this, he thought in himself thus: "Lo, I have warred against the emperor all the days of my life, and now he hath a son who, when he cometh to full age, will revenge the wrong I have done against his father; therefore it is better that I send to the emperor and beseech him of truce and peace, that the son may have nothing against me when he cometh to manhood." When he had thus said to himself, he wrote to the emperor, beseeching him to have peace. When the emperor saw that the king of Ampluy wrote to him more for fear than for love, he wrote again to him, that if he would find good and sufficient sureties to keep the peace, and bind himself all the days of his life to do him service and homage, he would receive him to peace.

When the king had read the tenor of the emperor's letter, he called his council, praying them to give him counsel how he best might do, as touching this matter. Then said they, "It is good that ye obey the emperor's will and commandment in all things. For first, in that he desired of you surety for the peace; to this we answer thus: Ye have but one daughter, and the emperor one son, wherefore let a marriage be made between them, and that may be a perpetual covenant of peace. Also he asketh homage and tribute, which it is good to fulfil." Then the king sent his messengers to the emperor, saying, that he would fulfil his desire in all things, if it might please his highness that his son and the king's daughter might be married together. All this well pleased the emperor, yet he sent again, saying, "If his daughter were a pure maid from her birth unto that day, he would consent to that marriage." Then was the king right glad, for his daughter was a pure maid.

Therefore, when the letters of covenant and compact were sealed, the king furnished a fair ship, wherein he might send his daughter, with many noble knights, ladies, and great riches, unto the emperor, for to have his son in marriage.

And when they were sailing in the sea, towards Rome, a storm arose so extremely and so horribly that the ship brake against a rock, and they were all drowned save only the young lady, which fixed her hope and heart so greatly on God, that she was saved, and about three of the clock the tempest ceased, and the lady drove forth over the waves in that broken ship which was cast up again. But a huge whale followed after, ready to devour both the ship and her. Wherefore this young lady, when night came, smote fire with a stone, wherewith the ship was greatly lightened, and then the whale durst not adventure toward the ship for fear of that light. At the cock-crowing, this young lady was so weary of the great tempest and trouble of sea, that she slept, and within a little while after the fire ceased, and the whale came and devoured the virgin. And when she awaked and found herself swallowed up in the whale's belly, she smote fire, and with a knife wounded the whale in many places, and when the whale felt himself wounded, according to his nature he began to swim to land.

There was dwelling at that time in a country near by a noble earl named Pirris, who for his recreation walking on the sea-shore, saw the whale coming towards the land; wherefore he turned home again, and gathered a great many of men and women, and came thither again, and fought with the whale, and wounded him very sore, and as they smote, the maiden that was in his belly cried with a high voice, and said: "O gentle friends, have mercy and compassion on me, for I am a king's daughter, and a true maid from the hour of my birth unto this day." When the earl heard this he wondered greatly, and opened the side of the whale, and found the young lady, and took her out. And when she was thus delivered, she told him forthwith whose daughter she was, and how she had lost all her goods in the sea, and how she should have been married unto the emperor's son. And when the earl heard this, he was very glad, and comforted her the more, and kept her with him till she was well refreshed. And in the meantime he sent messengers to the emperor, letting him to know how the king's daughter was saved.

Then was the emperor right glad of her safety, and coming, had great compassion on her, saying, "Ah, good maiden, for the love of my son thou hast suffered much woe; nevertheless, if thou be worthy to be his wife, soon shall I prove." And when he had thus said, he caused three vessels to be brought forth. The first was made of pure gold, well beset with precious stones without, and within full of dead men's bones, and thereupon was engraven this posie: "Whoso chooseth me, shall find that he deserveth." The second vessel was made of fine silver, filled with earth and worms, the superscription was thus: "Whoso chooseth me, shall find that his nature desireth." The third vessel was made of lead, full within of precious stones, and thereupon was insculpt this posie: "Whoso chooseth me, shall find that God hath disposed for him." These three vessels the emperor showed the maiden, and said: "Lo, here daughter, these be rich vessels. If thou choose one of these, wherein is profit to thee and to others, then shalt thou have my son. And if thou choose that wherein is no profit to thee, nor to any other, soothly thou shalt not marry him."

When the maiden heard this, she lift up her hands to God, and said, "Thou Lord, that knowest all things, grant me grace this hour so to choose, that I may receive the emperor's son." And with that she beheld the first vessel of gold, which was engraven royally, and read the superscription, "Whoso chooseth me, shall find that he deserveth;" saying thus, "Though this vessel be full precious, and made of pure gold, nevertheless I know not what is within, therefore, my dear lord, this vessel will I not choose."

And then she beheld the second vessel, that was of pure silver, and read the superscription, "Whoso chooseth me, shall find that his nature desireth." Thinking thus within herself, "If I choose this vessel, what is within I know not, but well I know, there shall I find that nature desireth, and my nature desireth the lust of the flesh, and therefore this vessel will I not choose."

When she had seen these two vessels, and had given an answer as touching them, she beheld the third vessel of lead, and read the superscription, "Whoso chooseth me, shall find that God hath disposed." Thinking within herself, "This vessel is not very rich, nor outwardly precious, yet the superscription saith, 'Whoso chooseth me, shall find that God hath disposed;' and without doubt God never disposeth any harm, therefore, by the leave of God, this vessel will I choose."

When the emperor heard this, he said, "O fair maiden, open thy vessel, for it is full of precious stones, and see if thou hast well chosen or no." And when this young lady had opened it, she found it full of fine gold and precious stones, as the emperor had told her before. Then said the emperor, "Daughter, because thou hast well chosen, thou shalt marry my son." And then he appointed the wedding-day; and they were married with great solemnity, and with much honour continued to their lives' end.



A certain carpenter, in a city near the sea, very covetous, and very wicked, collected a large sum of money, and placed it in the trunk of a tree, which he set by his fire-side, and never lost sight of. A place like this, he thought, no one could suspect: but it happened, that while all his household slept, the sea overflowed its boundaries, broke down that side of the building where the log was placed, and carried it away. It floated many miles, and reached, at length, a city in which there lived a person who kept open house. Arising early in the morning, he perceived the trunk of a tree in the water, and thinking it would be of use to him, he brought it home. He was a liberal, kind-hearted man; and a great benefactor to the poor. It one day chanced that he entertained some pilgrims in his house; and the weather being extremely cold, he cut up the log for firewood. When he had struck two or three blows with the axe, he heard a rattling sound; and cleaving it in twain, the gold pieces rolled out and about. Greatly rejoiced at the discovery, he put them by in a safe place, until he should ascertain who was the owner.

Now the carpenter, bitterly lamenting the loss of his money, travelled from place to place in pursuit of it. He came, by accident, to the house of the hospitable man who had found the trunk. He failed not to mention the object of his search; and the host, understanding that the money was his, reflected whether his title to it were good. "I will prove," said he to himself, "if God will that the money should be returned to him."

Accordingly, he made three cakes, the first of which he filled with earth; the second with the bones of dead men; and in the third he put a quantity of the gold which he had discovered in the trunk.

"Friend," said he, addressing the carpenter, "we will eat three cakes made of the best meat in my house. Choose which you will have."

The carpenter did as he was directed; he took the cakes and weighed them in his hand, one after another, and finding that with the earth weigh heaviest, he chose it. "And if I want more, my worthy host," added he, "I will have that"—laying his hand upon the cake containing the bones. "You may keep the third cake yourself."

"I see clearly," murmured the host, "I see very clearly that God does not will the money to be restored to this wretched man." Calling therefore the poor and the infirm, the blind and the lame, he opened the cake of gold in the presence of the carpenter, to whom he spoke, "Thou miserable varlet; this is thine own gold. But thou preferredst the cake of earth, and dead men's bones. I am persuaded, therefore, that God wills not that I return thee thy money." Without delay, he distributed it all amongst the poor, and drove the carpenter away.



There once lived a hermit, who in a remote cave passed day and night in God's service. Not far from his cell there was a flock kept by a shepherd, who one day fell into a deep sleep, when a robber, seeing him careless, carried off his sheep. When the keeper awoke, he began to swear in good set terms that he had lost his sheep; and where they were gone to he knew not. But the lord of the flock bade him be put to death. This gave to the hermit great offence. "O heaven," said he to himself, "seest thou this deed? The innocent suffers for the guilty: why permittest thou such things? If thus injustice triumph, why do I remain here? I will again enter the world, and do as other men do."

And so he left his hermitage, and went again into the world; but God willed not that he should be lost: an angel in the form of a man was sent to join him. And so, crossing the hermit's path, he said to him, "Whither bound, my friend?" "I go," said he, "to yonder city." "I will go with you," replied the angel; "I am a messenger from heaven, come to be your companion on the way."

So they walked on together to the city. When they had entered, they begged for the love of God harbourage during the night, at the house of a certain soldier, who received them cheerfully and entertained them nobly. The soldier had an only and most dear son lying in the cradle. After supper, their bed-chamber was sumptuously adorned for them; and the angel and the hermit went to rest. But about the middle of the night the angel rose, and strangled the sleeping infant. The hermit, horror-struck at what he witnessed, said within himself, "Never can this be an angel of God. The good soldier gave us everything that was necessary; he had but this poor innocent, and he is strangled." Yet he was afraid to reprove him.

In the morning both arose and went forward to another city, in which they were honourably entertained at the house of one of the inhabitants. This person had a rich gold cup, which he highly valued; and of which, during the night, the angel robbed him. But still the hermit held his peace, for great was his fear.

On the morrow they went forward; and as they walked they came to a certain river, over which was a bridge. They went on the bridge, and about midway a poor pilgrim met them. "My friend," said the angel to him, "show us the way to yonder city." The pilgrim turned, and pointed with his finger to the road they were to take; but as he turned the angel seized him by the shoulders, and hurled him into the stream below. At this the terror of the hermit became greater. "It is the devil," he said to himself; "it is the devil, and no good angel! What evil had the poor man done that he should be drowned?"

He would now have gladly gone alone; but was afraid to speak his mind. About the hour of vespers they came to a city, in which they again sought shelter for the night; but the master of the house where they applied sharply refused it. "For the love of heaven," said the angel, "give us shelter, lest we fall prey to the wolves." The man pointed to a sty. "That," said he, "has pigs in it; if it please you to lie there you may, but to no other place will I admit you." "If we can do no better," said the angel, "we must accept your ungracious offer." They did so; and next morning the angel calling their host, said, "My friend, I give you this cup;" and he gave him the gold cup he had stolen. The hermit, more and more amazed at what he saw, said to himself, "Now I am sure this is the devil. The good man who received us with all kindness he despoiled, and now he gives the plunder to this fellow who refused us a lodging."

Turning therefore to the angel, he cried, "I will travel with you no more. I commend you to God." "Dear friend," the angel said, "first hear me, and then go thy way."



"When thou wert in thy hermitage, the owner of the flock unjustly put to death his servant. True it is he died innocently, and therefore was in a fit state to enter another world. God permitted him to be slain, foreseeing, that if he lived he would commit a sin, and die before repentance followed. But the guilty man who stole the sheep will suffer eternally; while the owner of the flock will repair, by alms and good works, that which he ignorantly committed. As for the son of the hospitable soldier whom I strangled in the cradle, know, that before the boy was born he performed numerous works of charity and mercy; but afterwards grew parsimonious and covetous in order to enrich the child, of which he was inordinately fond. This was the cause of its death; and now its distressed parent is again become a devout Christian. Then for the cup which I purloined from him who received us so kindly, know, that before the cup was made, there was not a more abstemious person in the world; but afterwards he took such pleasure in it, and drank from it so often, that he was intoxicated twice or thrice during the day. I took away the cup, and he has returned to his former sobriety. Again I cast the pilgrim into the river; and know that he whom I drowned was a good Christian, but had he proceeded much further, he would have fallen into a mortal sin. Now he is saved, and reigns in celestial glory. Then, that I bestowed the cup upon the inhospitable citizen, know nothing is done without reason. He suffered us to occupy the swine-house and I gave him a valuable consideration. But he will hereafter reign in hell. Put a guard, therefore, on thy lips, and detract not from the Almighty. For He knoweth all things."

The hermit, hearing this, fell at the feet of the angel and entreated pardon. He returned to his hermitage, and became a good and pious Christian.



A certain tyrannical and cruel knight retained in his service a very faithful servant. One day, when he had been to the market, he returned with this servant through a grove; and by the way lost thirty silver marks. As soon as he discovered the loss, he questioned his servant about it. The man solemnly denied all knowledge of the matter, and he spoke truth. But when the money was not to be found, he cut off the servant's foot, and leaving him in that place, rode home. A hermit, hearing the groans and cries of the man, went speedily to his help. He confessed him; and being satisfied of his innocence, conveyed him upon his shoulders to his hermitage.

Then entering the oratory, he dared to reproach the All-just with want of justice, inasmuch as he had permitted an innocent man to lose his foot.

For a length of time he continued in tears, and prayers, and reproaches; until at last an angel of the Lord appeared to him, and said, "Hast thou not read in the Psalms, 'God is a just judge, strong and patient?'"

"Often," answered the hermit meekly, "have I read and believed it from my heart; but to-day I have erred. That wretched man, whose foot has been cut off, perhaps under the veil of confession deceived me."

"Tax not the Lord with injustice," said the angel; "His way is truth, and His judgments equitable. Recollect how often thou hast read, 'The decrees of God are unfathomable.' Know that he who lost his foot, lost it for a former crime. With the same foot he maliciously spurned his mother, and cast her from a chariot—for which eternal condemnation overtook him. The knight, his master, was desirous of purchasing a war-horse, to collect more wealth, to the destruction of his soul; and therefore, by the just sentence of God, the money which he had provided for the purchase was lost. Now hear; there is a very poor man with his wife and little ones, who daily supplicate heaven, and perform every religious exercise. He found the money, when otherwise he would have starved, and therewith procured for himself and family the necessaries of life, entrusting a portion to his confessor to distribute to the poor. But first he diligently endeavoured to find out the right owner. Not accomplishing this, the poor man applied it to its proper use. Place then a bridle upon thy thoughts; and no more upbraid the righteous Disposer of all things, as thou but lately didst. For he is just, and strong, and patient."



In the reign of Trajan there lived a knight named Placidus, who was commander-in-chief of the emperor's armies. He was very merciful, but a worshipper of idols. His wife too was an idolater. They had two sons, brought up in all magnificence, and from the kindness and goodness of their hearts, they deserved a revelation of the way of truth.

As he was one day following the chase, Placidus discovered a herd of deer, amongst which was one remarkable for size and beauty. Separating itself from the rest, it plunged into the thickest part of the brake. While the hunters, therefore, occupied themselves with the remainder of the herd, Placidus swiftly followed this deer's track. The stag scaled a lofty precipice, and Placidus, approaching as near as he could, considered how it might be followed yet. But as he regarded it with fixed attention, there appeared upon the centre of the brow, the form of the cross, which glittered with more splendour than the noonday sun. Upon this cross an image of Jesus Christ was suspended; and the stag thus addressed the hunter: "Why dost thou persecute me, Placidus? For thy sake have I assumed the shape of this animal. I am Christ, whom thou ignorantly worshippest. Thine alms have gone up before me, and therefore I come; but as thou hast hunted this stag, so will I hunt thee."

Some indeed assert that the image, hanging between the deer's antlers, said these things. However that may be, Placidus, filled with terror, fell from his horse; and in about an hour, returning to himself, arose from the earth and said, "Declare what thou wouldst have, that I may believe in thee."

"I am Christ, O Placidus! I created heaven and earth; I caused the light to arise, and divided it from the darkness. I appointed days, and seasons, and years. I formed man out of the dust of the earth; and I became incarnate for the salvation of mankind. I was crucified, and buried; and on the third day I rose again."

When Placidus understood these sublime truths, he fell again upon the earth, and exclaimed: "I believe, O Lord, that thou hast done all this; and that thou art He who bringest back the wanderer."

The Lord answered: "If thou believest this, go into the city and be baptized."

"Wouldst thou, O Lord, that I tell what has befallen me to my wife and children, that they also may believe?"

"Do so; tell them, that they also may be cleansed from their iniquities. And on the morrow return hither, where I will appear again, and show you of the future."

Placidus, therefore, went to his own home, and told all that had passed to his wife. But she too had had a revelation; and in like manner had been enjoined to believe in Christ, together with her children. So they hastened to the city of Rome, where they were entertained and baptized with great joy. Placidus was called Eustacius, and his wife, Theosbyta; the two sons, Theosbytus and Agapetus.

In the morning, Eustacius, according to custom, went out to hunt, and coming with his attendants near the place, he dispersed them, as if for the purpose of discovering the prey. Immediately the vision of yesterday reappeared, and prostrating himself, he said, "I implore thee, O Lord, to manifest thyself according to thy word."

"Blessed art thou, Eustacius, because thou hast received the laver of my grace, and thereby overcome the devil. Now hast thou trod him to dust, who beguiled thee. Now will thy fidelity appear; for the devil, whom thou hast deserted, will rage against thee in many ways. Much must thou undergo ere thou possessest the crown of victory. Much must thou suffer from the dignified vanity of the world; and much from spiritual intolerance. Fail not, therefore; nor look back upon thy former condition. Thou must be as another Job; but from the very depth of thy humiliation, I will restore thee to the height of earthly splendour. Choose, then, whether thou wouldst prefer thy trials at the end of life."

Eustacius replied: "If it become me, O Lord, to be exposed to trials, let them presently approach; but do thou uphold me, and supply me with patient strength."

"Be bold, Eustacius: my grace shall support your souls." Saying thus, the Lord ascended into heaven. After which Eustacius returned home to his wife, and explained to her what had been decreed.

In a few days a pestilence carried off the whole of their men-servants and maid-servants; and before long the sheep, horses, and cattle also perished. Robbers plundered their habitation, and despoiled them of every ornament; while he himself, together with his wife and sons, fled naked and in the deepest distress. But devoutly they worshipped God; and apprehensive of an Egyptian redness, went secretly away. Thus were they reduced to utter poverty. The king and the senate, greatly afflicted with their general's calamities, sought for, but found not the slightest trace of him.

In the meantime this unhappy family approached the sea; and finding a ship ready to sail, they embarked in it. The master of the vessel observing that the wife of Eustacius was very beautiful, determined to secure her; and when they had crossed the sea, demanded a large sum of money for their passage, which, as he anticipated, they did not possess. Notwithstanding the vehement and indignant protestations of Eustacius, he seized upon his wife; and beckoning to the mariners, commanded them to cast the unfortunate husband headlong into the sea. Perceiving, therefore, that all opposition was useless, he took up his two children, and departed with much and heavy sorrow. "Merciful heaven," he exclaimed, as he wept over his bereaved offspring, "your poor mother is lost; and, in a strange land, in the arms of a strange lord, must lament her fate."

Travelling along, he came to a river, the water of which ran so high, that it appeared hazardous in an eminent degree to cross with both the children at the same time. One, therefore, he placed carefully upon the bank, and then passed over with the other in his arms. This effected, he laid it upon the ground, and returned immediately for the remaining child. But in the midst of the river, accidentally glancing his eye back, he beheld a wolf hastily snatch up the child, and run with it into an adjoining wood. Half maddened at a sight so truly afflicting, he turned to rescue it from the destruction with which it was threatened; but at that instant a huge lion approached the child he had left; and seizing it, presently disappeared. To follow was useless, for he was in the middle of the water. Giving himself up, therefore, to his desperate situation, he began to lament and to pluck away his hair, and would have cast himself into the stream, had not Divine Providence preserved him.

Certain shepherds, however, observing the lion carrying off the child in his teeth, pursued him with dogs, and by the peculiar dispensation of heaven it was dropped unhurt. As for the other, some ploughmen witnessing the adventure, shouted lustily after the wolf, and succeeded in liberating the poor victim from its jaws. Now it happened that both the shepherds and ploughmen resided in the same village, and brought up the children amongst them. But Eustacius knew nothing of this, and his affliction was so poignant that he was unable to control his complaints. "Alas!" he would say, "once I nourished like a luxuriant tree, but now I am altogether blighted. Once I was encompassed with military ensigns and bands of armed men; now I am a single being in the universe. I have lost all my children and everything that I possessed. I remember, O Lord, that thou saidst my trials should resemble Job's; behold they exceed them. For although he was destitute, he had a couch, however vile, to repose upon; I, alas! have nothing. He had compassionating friends; while I, besides the loss of my children, am left a prey to the savage beasts. His wife remained, but mine is forcibly carried off. Assuage my anguish, O Lord, and place a bridle upon my lips, lest I utter foolishness, and stand up against thee." With such words he gave free course to the fulness of his heart; and after much travel, entered a village, where he abode. In this place he continued for fifteen years, as the hired servant of one of the villagers.

To return to the two boys. They were educated in the same neighbourhood, but had no knowledge of their consanguinity. And as for the wife of Eustacius, she preserved her purity, and suffered not the infamous usage which she had to fear. After some time her persecutor died.

In the meanwhile the Roman emperor was beset by his enemies, and recollecting how valiantly Placidus had behaved himself in similar straits, his grief at the deplorable change of fortune was renewed. He despatched soldiers through various parts of the world in pursuit of them; and promised to the discoverer infinite rewards and honours. It happened that some of the emissaries, being of those who had attended upon the person of Placidus, came into the country in which he laboured, and one of them he recognized by his gait. The sight of these men brought back to the exile's mind the situation of wealth and honour which he had once possessed; and being filled with fresh trouble at the recollection—"O Lord!" he exclaimed, "even as beyond expectation I have seen these people again, so let me be restored to my beloved wife. Of my children I speak not; for I know too well that they are devoured by wild beasts."

At that moment a voice whispered, "Be faithful, Eustacius, and thou wilt shortly recover thy lost honours, and again look upon thy wife and offspring."

Now when the soldiers met Placidus they knew not who he was; and accosting him, they asked if he were acquainted with any foreigner named Placidus, with his wife and two sons. He replied that he did not, but requested that they would rest in his house. And so he took them home, and waited on them. And here, as before, at the recollection of his former splendour, his tears flowed. Unable to contain himself, he went out of doors, and when he had washed his face he re-entered, and continued his service. By-and-by one said to the other, "Surely this man bears great resemblance to him we inquire after." "Of a truth," answered his companion, "you say well. Let us examine if he possess a sabre-mark on his head, which he received in action." They did so, and finding a scar which indicated a similar wound, they leaped up and embraced him, and inquired after his wife and sons.

He told his adventures; and the neighbours coming in, listened with wonder to the account delivered by the soldiers of his military achievements and former magnificence. Then, obeying the command of the emperor, they clothed him in sumptuous apparel. On the fifteenth day they reached the imperial court, and the emperor, apprised of his coming, went out to meet him, and saluted him with great gladness. Eustacius told all that had befallen him. He was then invested with the command of the army, and restored to every office that he had held before his departure.

He now therefore prepared with energy to encounter their enemies. He drew together from all parts the young men of the country; and it fell to the lot of the village where his own children were educated, to send two to the army; and these very youths were selected by the inhabitants as the best and bravest of their number. They appeared before the general, and their elegant manners, so much above their station, united to a singular propriety of conduct, won his esteem. He placed them in the van of his troops, and began his march against the enemy. Now the spot on which he pitched his tent was near his wife's abode; and, strange to say, the sons themselves, in the general distribution of the soldiers, were quartered with their own mother, but all the while ignorant with whom they were stationed.

About mid-day, the lads sitting together, related the various chances to which their infancy had been subject; and the mother, who was at no great distance, became an attentive listener. "Of what I was while a child," said the elder of the brothers, "I remember nothing, except that my beloved father was a leader of a company of soldiers; and that my mother, who was very beautiful, had two sons, of whom I was the elder. We left home with our parents during the night, and embarking on board a vessel that immediately put to sea, sailed I know not whither. Our mother remained in the ship, but wherefore I am also ignorant. In the meantime, our father carried my brother and myself in his arms, and me he left upon the nearer bank of a river, until he had borne the younger of us across. But when he was returning to me, a wolf darted from a thicket and bore him off in his mouth. Before he could hasten back to him, a prodigious lion seized upon me, and carried me into a neighbouring wood. But shepherds delivered me, and brought me up amongst them."

The younger brother here burst into a flood of tears, and exclaimed, "Surely I have found my brother; for they who brought me up frequently declared that I was saved from the jaws of a wolf." They exchanged embraces, and the mother, who listened, felt a strong conviction that they were her own children. She was silent, however, and the next day went to the commander of the forces, and begged leave to go into her own country. "I am a Roman woman," said she, "and a stranger in these parts."

As she uttered these words, her eye fixed with an earnest and anxious gaze upon the countenance of him she addressed. It was her husband, whom she now for the first time recollected; and she threw herself at his feet, unable to contain her joy. "My lord," cried the glad woman, "I entreat you to tell something of your past life; for unless I greatly mistake, you are Placidus, the master of the soldiery, since known by the name of Eustacius, whom our blessed Saviour converted and tried by temptations. I am his wife, taken from him at sea by a wretch, who yet spared me from the worst. I had two sons, Agapetus and Theosbytus."

These words recalled Eustacius to himself. Time and sorrow had made much change in both, but the recognition was full of happiness. They embraced and wept, giving glory to God as the God of all consolation. The wife then said, "My lord, what has become of our children?" "Alas!" replied he, "they were carried off by wild beasts;" and he told the manner of their loss. "Give thanks," said his wife, "give manifold thanks to the Lord; for as His Providence hath revealed our existence to each other, so will He give us back our beloved offspring." "Did I not tell you," returned he, "that wild beasts had devoured them?"

"True; but yesternight as I sat in the garden I overheard two young men tell of their childhood, and whom I believe to be our sons. Ask them, and they will tell you."

Messengers were immediately despatched for this purpose, and a few questions convinced Eustacius of the full completion of his happiness. They fell upon each other's neck and wept aloud. It was a joyful occasion; the whole army shared the joy of their general. A splendid victory ensued. Before their return the Emperor Trajan died, and was succeeded by Adrian, more wicked even than his predecessor. However, he received the conqueror and his family with great magnificence, and sumptuously entertained them at his own table. But the day following the emperor would have proceeded to the temple of his idols to sacrifice, in consequence of the late victory, and desired his guests to accompany him. "My lord," said Eustacius, "I worship the God of the Christians; and Him only do I serve and propitiate with sacrifice."

Enraged at an opposition he had not contemplated, he placed the man who had freed Rome from a foreign yoke, with his whole family, in the arena, and let loose a ferocious lion upon them. But the lion, to the astonishment of all, held down his head before them, as if in reverence. On which the ungrateful emperor ordered a brazen ox to be fabricated, and heated to the highest degree. In this his victims were cast alive; but with prayer and supplication they commended themselves to the mercy of God, and three days after, being taken out of the furnace in the presence of the emperor, it appeared as if they had died tranquilly in bed. Not a hair of their heads was scorched, nor was there the smallest perceptible change, more than the easiest transition from life occasions. The Christians buried their corpses in the most honourable manner, and over them constructed an oratory. They perished in the first year of Adrian, A.D. 120, in the kalends of November; or, as some write, the 12th of the kalends of October.



We read, that at the death of Alexander a golden sepulchre was constructed, and that a number of philosophers assembled round it. One said: "Yesterday, Alexander made a treasure of gold, and now gold makes a treasure of him." Another observed: "Yesterday, the whole world was not enough to satiate his ambition; to-day, three or four ells of cloth are more than sufficient." A third said: "Yesterday, Alexander commanded the people; to-day, the people command him." Another said: "Yesterday, Alexander could enfranchise thousands; to-day, he cannot free himself from the bonds of death." Another remarked: "Yesterday, he pressed the earth; to-day, it oppresses him." "Yesterday," continued another, "all men feared Alexander; to-day, men repute him nothing." Another said: "Yesterday, Alexander had a multitude of friends; to-day, not one." Another said: "Yesterday, Alexander led on an army; to-day that army bears him to the grave."



Valerius tells us, that a man named Paletinus one day burst into tears; and calling his son and his neighbours around him, said, "Alas! alas! I have now growing in my garden a fatal tree, on which my first poor wife hung herself, then my second, and after that my third. Have I not therefore cause for wretchedness?" "Truly," said one who was called Arrius, "I marvel that you should weep at such unusual good fortune! Give me, I pray you, two or three sprigs of that gentle tree, which I will divide with my neighbours, and thereby enable every man to indulge his spouse." Paletinus complied with his friend's request; and ever after found this tree the most productive part of his estate.



Josephus mentions that Tiberius Cæsar, inquiring why the governors of provinces remain so long in office, was answered by an example. "I have seen," said the respondent, "an infirm man covered with ulcers, grievously tormented by a swarm of flies. When asked why he did not use a flap and drive off his tormentors, he answered, 'The very circumstance which you think would relieve me would, in effect, cause tenfold suffering. For by driving away the flies now saturated with my blood, I should afford an opportunity to those that were empty and hungry to supply their place. And who doubts that the biting of a hungry insect is ten thousand times more painful than that of one completely gorged, unless the person attacked be stone, and not flesh.'"



When Jovinian was emperor, he had very great power, and as he lay in bed reflecting upon the extent of his dominions, his heart was elated.

"Is there," he impiously asked, "is there any other god than me?" Amid such thoughts he fell asleep.

In the morning, he reviewed his troops, and said, "My friends, after breakfast we will hunt."

Preparations being made accordingly, he set out with a large retinue. During the chase, the emperor felt such extreme oppression from the heat, that he believed his very existence depended upon a cold bath. As he anxiously looked around, he discovered a sheet of water at no great distance. "Remain here," said he to his guard, "until I have refreshed myself in yonder stream." Then spurring his steed, he rode hastily to the edge of the water. Alighting, he stripped off his clothes, and experienced the greatest pleasure from its invigorating freshness and coolness. But whilst he was thus employed, a person similar to him in every respect—in countenance and gesture—arrayed himself unperceived in the emperor's dress, and then mounting his horse, rode off to the attendants. The resemblance to the sovereign was such, that no doubt was entertained of the reality; and straightway command was issued for their return to the palace.

Jovinian, however, having quitted the water, sought in every possible direction for his horse and clothes, and to his utter astonishment, could find neither. Vexed beyond measure at the circumstance (for he was completely naked, and saw no one near to assist him) he began to reflect upon what course he should pursue. "Miserable man that I am," said he, "to what a strait am I reduced! There is, I remember, a knight who lives close by; I will go to him, and command his attendance and service. I will then ride on to the palace and strictly investigate the cause of this extraordinary conduct. Some shall smart for it."

Jovinian proceeded, naked and ashamed, to the castle of the aforesaid knight, and beat loudly at the gate. The porter, without unclosing the wicket, inquired the cause of the knocking. "Open the gate," said the enraged emperor, "and you will see who I am." The gate was opened; and the porter, struck with the strange appearance he exhibited, replied, "In the name of all that is marvellous, what are you?" "I am," said he, "Jovinian, your emperor; go to your lord, and command him from me to supply the wants of his sovereign. I have lost both horse and clothes." "Infamous ribald!" shouted the porter, "just before thy approach, the Emperor Jovinian, accompanied by the officers of his household, entered the palace. My lord both went and returned with him; and but even now sat with him at meat. But because thou hast called thyself the emperor, however madly, my lord shall know of thy presumption." The porter entered, and related what had passed. Jovinian was introduced, but the knight retained not the slightest recollection of his master, although the emperor remembered him. "Who are you?" said the knight, "and what is your name?" "I am the Emperor Jovinian," rejoined he; "canst thou have forgotten me? At such a time I promoted thee to a military command." "Why, thou most audacious scoundrel," said the knight, "darest thou call thyself the emperor? I rode with him myself to the palace, from whence I am this moment returned. But thy impudence shall not go without its reward. Flog him," said he, turning to his servants. "Flog him soundly, and drive him away."

This sentence was immediately executed, and the poor emperor, bursting into a convulsion of tears, exclaimed, "Oh, my God, is it possible that one whom I have so much honoured and exalted should do this? Not content with pretending ignorance of my person, he orders these merciless villains to abuse me! However, it will not be long unavenged. There is a certain duke, one of my privy councillors, to whom I will make known my calamity. At least, he will enable me to return decently to the palace." To him, therefore, Jovinian proceeded, and the gate was opened at his knock. But the porter, beholding a naked man, exclaimed in the greatest amaze, "Friend, who are you, and why come you here in such a guise?" He replied, "I am your emperor; I have accidentally lost my clothes and my horse, and I have come for succour to your lord. Inform the duke, therefore, that I have business with him." The porter, more and more astonished, entered the hall, and told of the man outside. "Bring him in," said the duke. He was brought in, but neither did he recognize the person of the emperor. "What art thou?" was again asked, and answered as before. "Poor mad wretch," said the duke, "a short time since, I returned from the palace, where I left the very emperor thou assumest to be. But ignorant whether thou art more fool or knave, we will administer such remedy as may suit both. Carry him to prison, and feed him with bread and water." The command was no sooner delivered, than obeyed; and the following day his naked body was submitted to the lash, and again cast into the dungeon.

Thus afflicted, he gave himself up to the wretchedness of his untoward condition. In the agony of his heart, he said: "What shall I do? Oh! what will be my destiny? I am loaded with the coarsest contumely, and exposed to the malicious observation of my people. It were better to hasten immediately to my palace, and there discover myself—my wife will know me; surely, my wife will know me!" Escaping, therefore, from his confinement, he approached the palace and beat upon the gate. The same questions were repeated, and the same answers returned. "Who art thou?" said the porter. "It is strange," replied the aggrieved emperor, "it is strange that thou shouldst not know me; thou, who hast served me so long!" "Served thee!" returned the porter indignantly; "thou liest abominably. I have served none but the emperor." "Why," said the other, "thou knowest that I am he. Yet, though you disregard my words, go, I implore you, to the empress; communicate what I will tell thee, and by these signs, bid her send the imperial robes, of which some rogue has deprived me. The signs I tell thee of are known to none but to ourselves." "In verity," said the porter, "thou art specially mad; at this very moment my lord sits at table with the empress herself. Nevertheless, out of regard for thy singular merits, I will intimate thy declaration within; and rest assured thou wilt presently find thyself most royally beaten." The porter went accordingly, and related what he had heard. But the empress became very sorrowful, and said: "Oh, my lord, what am I to think? The most hidden passages of our lives are revealed by an obscene fellow at the gate, and repeated to me by the porter, on the strength of which he declares himself the emperor, and my espoused lord!" When the fictitious monarch was apprised of this, he commanded him to be brought in. He had no sooner entered, than a large dog, which couched upon the hearth, and had been much cherished by him, flew at his throat, and, but for timely prevention, would have killed him. A falcon also, seated upon her perch, no sooner beheld him than she broke her jesses and flew out of the hall. Then the pretended emperor, addressing those who stood about him, said: "My friends, hear what I will ask of yon ribald. Who are you? and what do you want?" "These questions," said the suffering man, "are very strange. You know I am the emperor and master of this place." The other, turning to the nobles who sat or stood at the table, continued: "Tell me, on your allegiance, which of us two is your lord and master?" "Your majesty asks us an easy thing," replied they, "and need not to remind us of our allegiance. That obscene wretch cannot be our sovereign. You alone are he, whom we have known from childhood; and we intreat that this fellow may be severely punished as a warning to others how they give scope to their mad presumption." Then turning to the empress, the usurper said: "Tell me, my lady, on the faith you have sworn, do you know this man who calls himself thy lord and emperor?" She answered: "My lord, how can you ask such a question? Have I not known thee more than thirty years, and borne thee many children? Yet, at one thing I do admire. How can this fellow have acquired so intimate a knowledge of what has passed between us?"

The pretended emperor made no reply, but addressing the real one, said: "Friend, how darest thou to call thyself emperor? We sentence thee, for this unexampled impudence, to be drawn, without loss of time, at the tail of a horse. And if thou utterest the same words again, thou shalt be doomed to an ignominious death." He then commanded his guards to see the sentence put in force, but to preserve his life. The unfortunate emperor was now almost distracted; and urged by his despair, wished vehemently for death. "Why was I born?" he exclaimed. "My friends shun me, and my wife and children will not acknowledge me. But there is my confessor, still. To him will I go; perhaps he will recollect me, because he has often received my confessions." He went accordingly, and knocked at the window of his cell. "Who is there?" said the confessor. "The Emperor Jovinian," was the reply; "open the window and I will speak to thee." The window was opened; but no sooner had he looked out than he closed it again in great haste. "Depart from me," said he, "accursed thing: thou art not the emperor, but the devil incarnate." This completed the miseries of the persecuted man; and he tore his hair, and plucked up his beard by the roots. "Woe is me," he cried, "for what strange doom am I reserved?" At this crisis, the impious words which, in the arrogance of his heart, he had uttered, crossed his recollection. Immediately he beat again at the window of the confessor's cell, and exclaimed: "For the love of Him who was suspended from the cross, hear my confession." The recluse opened the window, and said, "I will do this with pleasure;" and then Jovinian acquainted him with every particular of his past life; and principally how he had lifted himself up against his Maker.

The confession made, and absolution given, the recluse looked out of his window, and directly knew him. "Blessed be the most high God," said he, "now I do know thee. I have here a few garments: clothe thyself, and go to the palace. I trust that they also will recognize thee." The emperor did as the confessor directed. The porter opened the gate, and made a low obeisance to him. "Dost thou know me?" said he. "Very well, my lord!" replied the menial; "but I marvel that I did not observe you go out." Entering the hall of his mansion, Jovinian was received by all with a profound reverence. The strange emperor was at that time in another apartment with the queen; and a certain knight going to him, said, "My lord, there is one in the hall to whom everybody bends; he so much resembles you, that we know not which is the emperor." Hearing this, the usurper said to the empress, "Go and see if you know him." She went, and returned greatly surprised at what she saw. "Oh, my lord," said she, "I declare to you that I know not whom to trust." "Then," returned he, "I will go and determine you." And taking her hand he led her into the hall and placed her on the throne beside him. Addressing the assembly, he said, "By the oaths you have taken, declare which of us is your emperor." The empress answered: "It is incumbent on me to speak first; but heaven is my witness, that I am unable to determine which is he." And so said all. Then the feigned emperor spoke thus: "My friends, hearken! That man is your king and your lord. He exalted himself to the disparagement of his Maker; and God, therefore, scourged and hid him from your knowledge. But his repentance removes the rod; he has now made ample satisfaction, and again let your obedience wait upon him. Commend yourselves to the protection of heaven." So saying, he disappeared. The emperor gave thanks to God, and surrendering to Him all his soul, lived happily and finished his days in peace.



Two physicians once lived in a city, who were admirably skilled in medicine, insomuch that all the sick who took their prescriptions were healed; and it thence became a question with the inhabitants, which of them was the best. After a while, a dispute arose between them upon this point.

Said one, "My friend, why should discord or envy or anger separate us; let us make the trial, and whosoever is inferior in skill shall serve the other."

"But how," replied his friend, "is this to be brought about?"

The first physician answered: "Hear me. I will pluck out your eyes without doing you the smallest injury, and lay them before you on the table; and when you desire it I will replace them as perfect and serviceable as they were before. If, in like manner, you can perform this, we will then be esteemed equal, and walk as brethren through the world. But, remember, he who fails in the attempt shall become the servant of the other."

"I am well pleased," returned his fellow, "to do as you say." Whereupon he who made the proposition took out his instruments and extracted the eyes, besmearing the sockets and the outer part of the lids with a certain rich ointment.

"My dear friend," said he, "what do you perceive?"

"Of a surety," cried the other, "I see nothing. I want the use of my eyes, but I feel no pain from their loss. I pray you, however, restore them to their places as you promised."

"Willingly," said his friend. He again touched the inner and outer part of the lids with the ointment, and then, with much precision, inserted the balls into their sockets. "How do you see now?" asked he.

"Excellently," returned the other, "nor do I feel the least pain." "Well, then," continued the first, "it now remains for you to treat me in a similar manner." "I am ready," he said. And accordingly taking the instruments, as the first had done, he smeared the upper and under parts of the eye with a peculiar ointment, drew out the eyes and placed them upon the table. The patient felt no pain, but added, "I wish you would hasten to restore them." The operator cheerfully complied; but as he prepared his implements, a crow entered by an open window, and seeing the eyes upon the table, snatched one of them up, and flew away with it. The physician, vexed at what had happened, said to himself, "If I do not restore the eye to my companion, I must become his slave." At that moment a goat, browsing at no great distance, attracted his observation. Instantly he ran to it, drew out one of his eyes, and put it into the place of the lost one.

"My dear friend," exclaimed the operator, "how do things appear to you?"

"Neither in extracting nor in replacing," he answered, "did I suffer the least pain; but—bless me!—one eye looks up to the trees!"

"Ah!" replied the first, "this is the very perfection of medicine. Neither of us is superior; henceforward we will be friends, as we are equals; and banish far off that spirit of contention which has destroyed our peace." The goat-eyed man of physic acquiesced; they lived from this time in the greatest amity.



In the reign of Pompey there lived a fair and amiable lady, and near to her dwelt a handsome, noble soldier. He often visited her, and professed much honourable love. The soldier coming once to see her, observed a falcon upon her wrist, which he greatly admired. "Dear lady," said he, "if you love me, give me that beautiful bird." "I consent," returned she, "but on one condition, that you do not attach yourself so much to it as to rob me of your society." "Far be such ingratitude from your servant," cried the soldier, "I would not forsake you on any account; and believe me, this generosity binds me more than ever to love you."

The lady presented the falcon to him; and bidding her farewell, he returned to his own castle. But he liked the bird so much, that he forgot his promise to the lady, and never thought of her except when he sported with the falcon. She sent messengers to him, but it was of no use; he came not: and at last she wrote a very urgent letter, entreating him, without the least delay, to hasten to her and bring the falcon along with him.

He acquiesced; and the lady, after salutation, asked him to let her touch the bird. But when she had it in her hands, she wrenched its head from the body. "Madam," said the vexed soldier, "what have you done?" To which the lady answered, "Be not offended, but rather rejoice at what I have done. That falcon was the cause of your absence, and I killed him that I might enjoy your company as I was wont." The soldier, satisfied with the reason, became once more faithful in his love.



My beloved, the king is our heavenly Father; the lady, our human nature joined to the divinity in Christ. The soldier is any Christian, and the falcon, temporal prosperity.



The Emperor Pliny had three sons, to whom he was very indulgent. He wished to dispose of his kingdom, and calling the three into his presence, spoke thus: "The laziest of you shall reign after my death."

"Then," answered the elder, "the kingdom must be mine; for I am so lazy, that sitting once by the fire, I burnt my legs, because I was too slothful to withdraw them."

The second son said, "The kingdom should properly be mine, for if I had a rope round my neck, and held a sword in my hand, my idleness is such, that I should not put forth my hand to cut the rope."

"But I," said the third son, "ought to be preferred to you both; for I outdo both in sloth. While I lay upon my bed, water dropped from above upon my eyes; and though, from the nature of the water, I was in danger of becoming blind, I neither could nor would turn my head ever so little to the right hand or to the left." The emperor, hearing this, bequeathed the kingdom to him, thinking him the laziest of the three.



Domitian was a very wise and just prince, and suffered no offender to escape. It happened that as he once sat at table, a certain merchant knocked at the gate. The porter opened it, and asked what he pleased to want.

"I have brought some useful things for sale," answered the merchant. The porter introduced him, and he very humbly made obeisance to the emperor.

"My friend," said the emperor, "what merchandise have you to dispose of?"

"Three maxims of especial wisdom and excellence, my lord."

"And how much will you take for your maxims?"

"A thousand florins."

"And so," said the king, "if they are of no use to me I lose my money?"

"My lord," answered the merchant, "if the maxims do not stand you in stead, I will return the money."

"Very well," said the emperor. "Let us hear your maxims."

"The first, my lord, is this: 'Whatever you do, do wisely; and think of the consequences.' The second is: 'Never leave the highway for a byway.' And, thirdly: 'Never stay all night as a guest in that house where you find the master an old man and his wife a young woman.' These three maxims, if you attend to them, will be extremely serviceable."

The emperor, being of the same opinion, ordered him to be paid a thousand florins; and so pleased was he with the first, that he commanded it to be inscribed in his court, in his bed-chamber, and in every place where he was accustomed to walk, and even upon the table-cloths from which he ate.

Now the rigid justice of the emperor occasioned a conspiracy among the vicious and refractory of his subjects; and finding the means of accomplishing their purposes somewhat difficult, they engaged a barber, by large promises, to cut his throat as he shaved him.

When the emperor, therefore, was to be shaved, the barber lathered his beard, and began to operate upon it; but casting his eyes over the towel which he had fastened round the royal neck, he perceived woven thereon, "Whatever you do, do wisely, and think of the consequences." The inscription startled the tonsor, and he said to himself, "I am to-day hired to destroy this man. If I do it, my end will be ignominious; I shall be condemned to the most shameful death. Therefore, whatsoever I do, it is good to consider the end, as the writing testifies." These cogitations disturbed the barber so much that his hand trembled, and the razor fell to the ground. The emperor, seeing this, inquired the cause.

"Oh, my lord," said the barber, "have mercy upon me: I was hired this day to destroy you; but accidentally, or rather by the will of God, I read the inscription on the towel, 'Whatever you do, do wisely, and think of the consequences.' Whereby, considering that, of a surety, the consequence would be my own destruction, my hand trembled so much, that I lost all command over it."

"Well," thought the emperor, "this first maxim hath assuredly saved my life: in a good hour was it purchased. My friend," said he to the barber, "on condition that you be faithful hereafter, I pardon you."

The noblemen who had conspired against the emperor, finding that their project had failed, consulted with one another what they were to do next.

"On such a day," said one, "he journeys to a particular city; we will hide ourselves in a bypath, through which, in all probability, he will pass, and so kill him."

The counsel was approved.

The king, as had been expected, prepared to set out; and riding on till he came to a cross-way, much less circuitous than the high road, his knights said, "My lord, it will be better for you to go this way, than to pass along the broad road; it is considerably nearer."

The king pondered the matter within himself. "The second maxim," thought he, "admonishes me never to forsake the highway for a byway. I will adhere to that maxim."

Then turning to his soldiers, "I shall not quit the public road; but you, if it please you, may proceed by that path, and prepare for my approach." Accordingly a number of them went; and the ambush, imagining that the king rode in their company, fell upon them and put the greater part to the sword. When the news reached the king, he secretly exclaimed, "My second maxim hath also saved my life."

Seeing, therefore, that by cunning they were unable to slay their lord, the conspirators again took counsel, and it was observed, that on a certain day he would lodge in a particular house, "because," said they, "there is no other fit for his reception. Let us then agree with the master of that house, and his wife, for a sum of money to kill the emperor as he lies in bed."

This was agreed to.

But when the emperor had come into the city, and had been lodged in the house to which the conspirators referred, he commanded his host to be called into his presence. Observing that he was an old man, the emperor said, "Have you not a wife?"

"Yes, my lord."

"I wish to see her."

The lady came; and when it appeared that she was very young—not eighteen years of age—the king said hastily to his chamberlain, "Away, prepare me a bed in another house. I will remain here no longer."

"My lord," replied he, "be it as you please. But they have made everything ready for you: were it not better to lie where you are, for in the whole city there is not so commodious a place."

"I tell you," answered the emperor, "I will sleep elsewhere."

The chamberlain, therefore, removed; and the king went privately to another residence, saying to the soldiers about him, "Remain here, if you like; but join me early in the morning."

Now while they slept, the old man and his wife arose, and not finding the king, put to death all the soldiers who had remained. In the morning, when the murder was discovered, the emperor gave thanks to God for his escape. "Oh," cried he, "if I had continued here, I should have been destroyed. So the third maxim hath also preserved me."

But the old man and his wife, with the whole of their family, were crucified. The emperor retained the three maxims in memory during life, and ended his days in peace.



There were once three friends who agreed to make a pilgrimage together. It happened that their provisions fell short, and having but one loaf between them, they were nearly famished.

"Should this loaf," they said to each other, "be divided amongst us, there will not be enough for any one. Let us then take counsel together, and consider how the bread is to be disposed of."

"Suppose we sleep upon the way," replied one of them; "and whosoever hath the most wonderful dream shall possess the loaf."

The other two acquiesced, and settled themselves to sleep.

But he who gave the advice, arose while they were sleeping, and ate up the bread, not leaving a single crumb for his companions. When he had finished he awoke them.

"Get up quickly," said he, "and tell us your dreams."

"My friends," answered the first, "I have had a very marvellous vision. A golden ladder reached up to heaven, by which angels ascended and descended. They took my soul from my body, and conveyed it to that blessed place where I beheld the Holy Trinity; and where I felt such an overflow of joy, as eye hath not seen, nor ear heard. This is my dream."

"And I," said the second, "beheld the devils with iron instruments, by which they dragged my soul from the body, and plunging it into hell flames, most grievously tormented me, saying, 'As long as God reigns in heaven this will be your portion.'"

"Now then," said the third, who had eaten the bread, "hear my dream. It appeared as if an angel came and addressed me in the following manner: 'My friend, would you see what is become of your companions?' I answered, 'Yes, Lord. We have but one loaf among us, and I fear that they have run off with it.' 'You are mistaken,' he rejoined, 'it lies beside us; follow me.' He immediately led me to the gate of heaven, and by his command I put in my head and saw you; and I thought that you were snatched up into heaven and sat upon a throne of gold, while rich wines and delicate meats stood around you. Then said the angel, 'Your companion, you see, has an abundance of good things, and dwells in all pleasures. There he will remain for ever; for he has entered a celestial kingdom, and cannot return. Come now where your other associate is placed.' I followed, and he led me to hell-gates, where I beheld you in torment, as you just now said. Yet they furnished you, even there, with bread and wine in abundance. I expressed my sorrow at seeing you in misery, and you replied, 'As long as God reigns in heaven here I must remain, for I have merited it. Do you then rise up quickly, and eat all the bread, since you will see neither me nor my companion again.' I complied with your wishes; arose, and ate the bread."



In the reign of a certain king there lived a proud and oppressive seneschal. Now near the royal palace was a forest well stocked with game; and by the direction of this person various pits were dug there, and covered with leaves, for the purpose of entrapping the beasts. It happened that the seneschal himself went into this forest, and with much exaltation of heart exclaimed internally, "Lives there a being in the empire more powerful than I am?" This braggart thought was scarcely formed, ere he rode upon one of his own pitfalls, and immediately disappeared.

The same day had been taken a lion, a monkey, and a serpent. Terrified at the situation into which fate had thrown him, he cried out lustily; and his noise awoke a poor man called Guido, who had come with his ass into that forest for firewood, by the sale of which he got his bread. Hastening to the mouth of the pit, and finding the cause of the noise, he was promised great wealth if he would lift the seneschal out.

"My friend," answered Guido, "I have no means of obtaining a livelihood except by the faggots which I collect; if I neglect this for one day, I shall starve."

The seneschal renewed his promises of enriching him. Guido went back to the city, and returned with a long cord, which he let down into the pit, and bade the seneschal bind it round his waist. But before he could do so, the lion leaped forward, and seizing upon the cord, was drawn up in his stead. Immediately, in high glee, the beast ran off into the wood. The rope again descended, and the monkey having noticed the success of the lion, vaulted above the man's head, and shaking the cord, was in like manner set at liberty. Without staying to return thanks, he hurried off to his haunts. A third time the cord was let down, and the serpent twining around it, was drawn up, and escaped.

"O my good friend," said the seneschal, "the beasts are gone, now draw me up quickly, I pray you."

Guido complied, and afterwards succeeded in drawing up his horse, which the seneschal instantly mounted and rode back to the palace.

Guido returned home; and his wife observing that he had come without wood, was very dejected, and inquired the cause. He related what had occurred, and the riches he was to receive for his service. The wife's countenance brightened, and early in the morning she posted off her husband to the palace. But the seneschal denied all knowledge of him, and ordered him to be whipped for his presumption. The porter executed the directions, and beat him so severely that he left him half dead. As soon as Guido's wife understood this, she saddled their ass, and brought him home. The sickness which ensued, consumed the whole of their little property; but as soon as he had recovered, he went back to his usual occupation in the wood.

Whilst he was thus employed, he saw afar off ten asses laden with packs, and a lion by the last of them, coming along the path. On looking narrowly at this beast, he remembered that it was the same which he had freed from its imprisonment in the pit. The lion signified with his foot that he should take the loaded asses, and go home. This Guido did, and the lion followed. When he had come to his own door, the noble beast fawned upon him, and wagging his tail as if in triumph, ran back to the woods. Guido caused proclamation to be made in different churches, 7 that if any asses had been lost, the owners should come to him; but no one appearing to demand them, he opened the packages, and to his great joy discovered them full of money.

On the second day Guido returned to the forest, but forgot an iron instrument to cleave the wood. He looked up, and saw the monkey whom he had set free; and the animal, by help of teeth and nails, worked for him. Guido then loaded his asses and went home.

The next day he renewed his visit to the forest; and sitting down to prepare his axe, discerned the serpent, whose escape he had aided, carrying a stone in its mouth of three colours; the one white, another black, and the third red. It opened its mouth and let the stone fall into Guido's lap. Having done this, it departed. Guido took the stone to a skilful lapidary, who had no sooner inspected it than he knew its virtues, and would willingly have paid him a hundred florins for it. But Guido refused; and by means of that singular stone, obtained great wealth, and was promoted to a military command.

The emperor having heard of the extraordinary qualities which it possessed, desired to see it. Guido went accordingly; and the emperor was so struck with its uncommon beauty, that he wished to purchase it at any rate; and threatened, if Guido refused compliance, to banish him the kingdom.

"My lord," answered he, "I will sell the stone; but let me say one thing—if the price be not given, it shall be presently restored to me."

He demanded three hundred florins, and then taking it from a small coffer, put it into the emperor's hands. Full of admiration, he exclaimed, "Tell me where you procured this beautiful stone?"

This he did; and related from the beginning the seneschal's accident and subsequent ingratitude. He told how severely he had been whipped by his command; and the benefits he had received from the lion, the monkey, and serpent.

Much moved at the recital, the emperor sent for the seneschal, and said, "What is this I hear of thee?" He was unable to reply. "O wretch!" continued the emperor—monster of ingratitude! Guido liberated thee from the most imminent danger, and for this thou hast nearly destroyed him. Dost thou see how even irrational things have rendered him good for the service he performed? but thou hast returned evil for good. Therefore I deprive thee of thy dignity, which I will bestow upon Guido; and I further adjudge you to be hung on a cross." This decree infinitely rejoiced the noblemen of the empire; and Guido, full of honours and years, ended his days in peace.



A certain king had an only son whom he much loved. The young man was desirous of travelling, and obtained his father's leave to travel. After an absence of seven years he returned, and his father, overjoyed at his arrival, asked what friends he had made. "Three," said the son, "the first of whom I love more than myself; the second, as much as myself; and the third, little or nothing."

"You say well," returned the father; "but it is a good thing to prove them before you need their help. Therefore kill a pig, put it into a sack, and go at night to the house of him whom you love best, and say that you have accidentally killed a man, and if the body should be found I shall condemn you to an ignominious death. Intreat him if he ever loved you, to give his help in this extremity." The son did so; and the friend answered, "Since you have rashly destroyed a man, you must needs be crucified. Now because you were my friend, I will bestow upon you three or four ells of cloth to wrap your body in."

The youth hearing this, went in much indignation to the second of his friends, and told the same story. He received him like the first, and said, "Do you believe me mad, that I should expose myself to such peril? But since I have called you my friend, I will accompany you to the cross, and console you as much as possible upon the way."

This liberal proposal not meeting the prince's approbation, he went to the third, and said, "I am ashamed to speak what I have done; but alas! I have accidentally slain a man." "My friend," answered the other, "I will readily lay down my life in your defence; and should you be condemned to expiate your misfortune on the cross, I will be crucified either for you or with you." This man, therefore, proved that he was his friend.



A king issued a proclamation, that whosoever would come to him should obtain all they asked. The noble and the rich desired dukedoms, or counties, or knighthood; and some treasures of silver and gold. But whatsoever they desired they had. Then came the poor and the simple, and solicited a like boon.

"Ye come late," said the king, "the noble and the rich have already been, and have carried away all I possess." This reply troubled them exceedingly; and the king, moved by their concern, said, "My friends, though I have given away all my wealth, I have still the sovereign power; no one asked for that. I appoint you, therefore, to be their judges and masters."

When this came to the ears of the rich, they were extremely disturbed, and said to the king, "My lord, we are greatly troubled at your appointing these poor wretches our rulers; it were better for us to die than admit such servitude."

"Sirs," answered the king, "I do you no wrong: whatever you asked I gave; insomuch that nothing remains to me but the supreme power. Nevertheless, I will give you counsel. Whosoever of you has enough to support life, let him bestow the superfluity upon these poor people. They will then live honestly and comfortably, and upon these conditions I will resume the sovereignty and keep it, while you avoid the servitude you fear." And thus it was done.



A thief went one night to the house of a rich man, and scaling the roof, peeped through a hole to see whether any part of the family were yet stirring. The master of the house, suspecting something, said secretly to his wife, "Ask me in a loud voice how I got my property, and do not stop until I bid you."

The woman complied, and began to shout, "My dear husband, pray tell me, since you never were a merchant, how you came by all the wealth you have."

"My love," answered her husband, "do not ask such foolish questions."

But she persisted in her inquiries; and at length, as if overcome by her urgency, he said, "Keep what I am going to tell you a secret, and you shall know."

"Oh! trust me."

"Well, then, you must know that I was a thief, and got what I now enjoy by nightly depredations."

"It is strange," said the wife, "that you were never taken."

"Why," he replied, "my master, who was a skilful clerk, taught me a particular word, which, when I went on the tops of people's houses, I pronounced, and thus escaped detection."

"Tell me, I conjure you," returned the lady, "what that powerful word was."

"Hear, then; but never mention it again, or we shall lose all our property."

"Be sure of that," said the lady; "it shall never be repeated."

"It was—is there no one within hearing?—the mighty word was 'False.'"

The lady, apparently quite satisfied, fell asleep; and her husband feigned it. He snored lustily, and the thief above, who had heard their conversation with much pleasure, aided by the light of the moon, descended, repeating seven times the cabalistic sound. But being too much occupied with the charm to mind his footing, he stepped through the window into the house; and in the fall dislocated his leg and arm, and lay half dead upon the floor. The owner of the mansion, hearing the noise, and well knowing the reason, though he pretended ignorance, asked "What was the matter?" "Oh!" groaned the suffering thief, "False falls." In the morning he was taken before the judge, and afterwards suspended on a cross.



Alexander the Great was lord of the whole world. He once collected a large army, and besieged a certain city, around which many knights and others were killed without any visible wound. Much surprised at this, he called together his philosophers, and said, "My masters, how is this? My soldiers die, and there is no apparent wound!" "No wonder," replied they; "under the walls of the city is a basilisk, whose look infects your soldiers, and they die of the pestilence it creates." "And what remedy is there for this?" said the king.

"Place a glass in a high place between the army and the wall under which the basilisk cowers; and no sooner shall he behold it, than his own figure, reflected in the mirror, shall return the poison upon himself, and kill him." Alexander took their advice, and thus saved his followers.



My beloved, look into the glass of reflection, and by remembrance of human frailty destroy the vices which time breeds.



A king made a law, by which whosoever was suddenly to be put to death, in the morning, before sunrise should be saluted with songs and trumpets; and, arrayed in black garments, should receive judgment. This king made a great feast; and convoked all the nobles of his kingdom, who appeared accordingly. The most skilful musicians were assembled, and there was much sweet melody.

But the king was discontented and out of humour; his countenance expressed intense sorrow, and sighs and groans rose from his heart. The courtiers were all amazed; but none dared ask the cause of his sadness. At last, the king's brother whispered to him the surprise of his guests, and intreated that he might understand the cause of his grief. "Go home now," answered the king; "to-morrow you shall know." This was done.

Early in the morning the king caused the trumpets to sound before his brother's house, and the guards to bring him to the court. The brother, greatly alarmed at the sounding of the trumpets, arose, and put on black. When he came before the king, the king commanded a deep pit to be dug, and a rotten chair, with four decayed feet, to be slightly suspended over it. In this chair he made his brother sit; above his head he caused a sword to hang, attached to one silk thread; and four men, each armed with a very sharp sword, to stand near him, one before and one behind; a third on the right hand, and the fourth on the left. When they were thus placed, the king said, "The moment I give the word, strike him to the heart."

Trumpets, and all other kind of musical instruments, were brought; and a table, covered with various dishes, was set before him. "My dear brother," said the king, "what is the cause of your sorrow? Here are the greatest delicacies, the most enrapturing harmony; why do you not rejoice?"

"How can I rejoice?" answered he. "In the morning, trumpets sounded for my death; and I am now placed upon a frail chair, in which, if I move ever so little, I shall probably be thrown upon the pointed sword beneath. If I raise my head, the weapon above will pierce to my brain. Besides this, the four torturers around stand ready to kill me at your bidding. These things considered, were I lord of the universe I could not rejoice."

"Now, then," answered the king, "I will reply to your question of yesterday. I am, on my throne, as you on that frail chair. For my body is its emblem, supported by four decayed feet, that is, by the four elements. The pit below me is hell. Above my head is the sword of divine justice, ready to take life from my body. Before me is the sword of death; behind, the sword of sin, ready to accuse me at the tribunal of God. The weapon on the right hand is the devil; and that on the left, is the worms which after death shall gnaw my body. And, considering all these circumstances, how can I rejoice? If you to-day feared me, who am mortal, how much more ought I to dread my Creator and my Redeemer, our Lord Jesus Christ? Go, dearest brother, and be careful that you do not again ask such questions."

The brother rose from his unpleasant seat, and rendering thanks to the king for the lesson he had given him, firmly resolved to amend his life. All who were present commended the ingenuity of the royal reproof.



Augustine tells us in his book, "De Civitate Dei," that Diomedes, in a piratical galley, for a long time infested the sea, plundering and sinking many ships. Being captured by command of Alexander, before whom he was brought, the king inquired how he dared to molest the seas. "How darest thou," replied he, "molest the earth? Because I am master only of a single galley, I am termed a robber; but you, who oppress the world with huge squadrons, are called a king and a conqueror. Would my fortune change I might become better; but as you are the more fortunate, so much are you the worse." "I will change thy fortune," said Alexander, "lest fortune should be blamed by thy malignity." Thus he became rich; and from a robber was made a prince and a dispenser of justice.



There was an emperor whose porter was very shrewd. He earnestly besought his master that he might have the custody of a city for a single month, and receive, by way of tax, one penny from every crook-backed, one-eyed, scabby, leprous, or ruptured person. The emperor admitted his request, and confirmed the gift under his own seal.

Accordingly, the porter was installed in his office; and as the people entered the city he took note of their defects, and charged them in accordance with the grant. It happened that a hunch-backed fellow one day entered, and the porter made his demand. Hunch-back protested that he would pay nothing.

The porter immediately laid hands upon him, and accidentally raising his cap, discovered that he was one-eyed also. He demanded two pennies forthwith.

The other still more vehemently opposed, and would have fled; but the porter catching hold of his head, the cap came off, and disclosed a bald scab; whereupon he required three pennies.

Hunch-back, very much enraged, persisted in his refusal, and began to struggle with the porter. This caused an exposure of his arms, by which it became manifest that he was leprous. The fourth penny was therefore laid claim to; and the scuffle continuing, revealed a rupture, which made a fifth.

Thus, a fellow unjustly refusing to pay a rightful demand of one penny, was necessitated, much against his inclination, to pay five.



Gervase of Tilbury relates a very remarkable occurrence, but at the same time full of excellent caution and prudent exhortation.

During the reign of the Roman emperor Otto, there was, in the bishopric of Girona, in Catalonia, a very high mountain, whose ascent was extremely arduous, and, except in one place, inaccessible. On the summit was an unfathomable lake of black water. Here also stood, as it is reported, a palace of demons, with a large gate, continually closed; but the palace itself, as well as its inhabitants, existed in invisibility. If any one cast a stone or other hard substance into this lake, the demons exhibited their anger by furious storms. In one part of the mountain was perpetual snow and ice, with abundance of crystal. At its foot flowed a river, whose sands were of gold; and the precious metal thus obtained, was denominated, by the vulgar, its cloak. The mountain itself and the parts adjacent, furnished silver; and its inexhaustible fertility was not the least surprising.

Not far from hence lived a certain farmer, who was much occupied with domestic matters, and troubled exceedingly by the incessant squalling of his little girl; insomuch, that at length wearied out by the torment, in a moment of fretfulness he wished his infant at the devil. This incautious desire was scarcely uttered, ere the girl was seized by an invisible hand, and carried off. Seven years afterwards, a person journeying at the foot of the mountain near the farmer's dwelling, distinguished a man hurrying along at a prodigious rate, and uttering the most doleful complaints. He stopped to inquire the occasion; and was told, that for the space of seven years last passed, he had been committed to the custody of the demons upon that mountain, who daily made use of him as of a chariot, in consequence of an unwary exclamation to that effect. The traveller startled at an assertion so extraordinary, and a little incredulous, was informed that his neighbour had suffered in a similar degree; for that having hastily committed his daughter to their power, they had instantly borne her off. He added, that the demons, weary of instructing the girl, would willingly restore her, provided the father presented himself on the mountain and there received her.

The auditor, thunder-struck at this communication, doubted whether he should conceal things so incredible, or relate them as he had heard. He determined, at last, to declare the girl's situation to her father; and hastening, accordingly, found him still bewailing the lengthened absence of his daughter. Ascertaining the cause, he went on to state what he had heard from the man whom the devils used as a chariot. "Therefore," said he, "I recommend you, attesting the divine name, to demand of these devils the restitution of your daughter." Amazed at what was imparted to him, the father deliberated upon the best method of proceeding; and finally, pursued the counsel of the traveller. Ascending the mountain, he passed forward to the lake, and adjured the demons to restore the girl whom his folly had committed to them. Suddenly a violent blast swept by him, and a girl of lofty stature stood in his presence. Her eyes were wild and wandering, and her bones and sinews were scarcely covered with skin. Her horrible countenance discovered no sign of sensibility; and, ignorant of all language, she scarcely could be acknowledged for a human being. The father, wondering at her strange appearance, and doubtful whether she should be taken to his own home or not, posted to the bishop of Girona, and with a sorrowful aspect detailed what had befallen him; at the same time requesting his advice. The bishop, as a religious man, and one entrusted with a charge of so much importance, narrated every circumstance respecting the girl to his diocese. He warned them against rashly committing their fortunes to the power of concealed demons; and showed that our adversary the devil, as a raging lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour; that he will slay those who are given to him, and hold them in eternal bonds.

The man who was used by the devils as a chariot, a long time remained in this miserable situation. But his subsequent faith and discretion emancipated him. He stated that near the above-mentioned place there was an extensive subterranean palace, whose entrance was by a single gate, enveloped in the thickest darkness. Through this portal the devils, who had been on embassies to various parts of the world, returned, and communicated to their fellows what they had done. No one could tell of what the palace was constructed, save themselves, and those who passed under their yoke to eternal damnation. From all which, my beloved, we may gather the dangers we are exposed to, and how cautious we should be of invoking the devil to our assistance, as well as of committing our family to his power. Let us guard our hearts, and beware that he catch not up the sinful soul, and plunge it into the lake of everlasting misery; where there is snow and ice unthawed; crystal, that reflects the awakened and agonized conscience perpetually burning with immortal fire.



Alexander had an only son called Celestinus, whom he loved with the utmost tenderness. He desired to have him well instructed; and sending for a certain philosopher, said, "Sir, instruct my son, and I will pay you bountifully." The philosopher agreed, and took the boy home with him. He diligently performed his duty; and it happened, that one day entering a meadow with his pupil, they saw a horse lying on the ground, grievously affected with the mange. Near the animal two sheep were tied together, which busily cropped the grass that grew around them. It so chanced that the sheep were on each side of the horse, and the cord with which they were bound passed over his back, and chafing the sores, galled him exceedingly. Disturbed by this, he got up; but the cord, then loaded with the weight of the sheep, afflicted him more and more; and filled with fury, he began to run off at a great speed, dragging along the unfortunate sheep. And in equal proportion to their resistance was the increase of the horse's suffering, for the cord, having worn itself into a hollow, sunk, at every struggle, deeper into the wound.

Adjoining the meadow was the house of a miller, toward which the horse, impelled by the anguish of his wound, galloped, and entered, with the sheep hanging as we have said. The house was then unoccupied; but there was a fire burning upon the hearth; and the horse plunging and striking his hoofs, so scattered the fire, that the flame caught hold of the building, and burnt all to ashes, together with the horse and the sheep. "Young man," said the preceptor to his pupil, "you have witnessed the beginning, the middle, and the end of this incident: make me some correct verses upon it; and show me why the house was burnt. Unless you do this, I promise I will punish you severely."

Celestinus, during the absence of his master, applied himself diligently to study, but he was unable to do his task. This much troubled him; and the devil, ever on the alert, met him in the likeness of a man, and said, "My son, what has made you so sorrowful?"

Celest. "Never mind; it is no use telling you."

Devil. "You know not that; tell me, and I will help you."

Celest. "I am charged, under a heavy punishment, to make some verses about a scabby horse and two sheep, and I don't know how."

Devil. "Young man, I am the devil in a human form, and the best poet going; care nothing about your master, but promise to serve me faithfully, and I will compose such delectable verses for you that they shall excel those of your pedagogue himself."

Celestinus, tempted by this insidious proposal, gave his word to serve him faithfully if he fulfilled his engagement.

The devil then produced the following verses:—

Bound by a thong, that passed along
A horse's mangy hide;
Two sheep there lay, as I you say,
One upon either side.

The steed uprose, and upward goes
Each sheep with dangling breech;
Borne by the horse's rapid course,
The miller's hut they reach.

Scattering the fire, with reckless ire,
The rafters caught the flame;
And bleating breed and scabby steed
Were roasted in the same.

Now had that wight, that miller hight,
Vouchsafed his house to keep;
Ere he returned, it had not burned,
Nor burned his horse and sheep.8

The boy, made happy by the present, returned home.

Master. "My child, have you stolen your verses, or made them?"

Celest. "I made them, sir."

He then read what we have given above; and the master, struck with the greatest astonishment at their uncommon beauty, exclaimed, "My dear boy, tell me if any one made these verses for you?"

Celest. "No, sir; no one did."

Master. "Unless you tell me the truth, I will flog you till the blood run."

The lad, fearful of what might follow, declared all that occurred, and how he had bound himself to the devil. The preceptor, grieved at the communication, induced the youth to confess himself, and renounce this fearful confederacy. When this was done he became a holy man; and after a well-spent life, gave up his soul to God.



There reigned some time in Rome a wise and mighty emperor, named Anselm, who did bear in his arms a shield of silver with five red roses. This emperor had three sons, whom he loved much. He had also continual war with the king of Egypt, in which war he lost all his temporal goods except a precious tree. It fortuned after on a day that he gave battle to the same king of Egypt, wherein he was grievously wounded; nevertheless, he obtained the victory, notwithstanding he had his deadly wound. Wherefore, while he lay at point of death, he called unto his eldest son, and said: "My dear and well-beloved son, all my temporal riches are spent, and almost nothing is left me but a precious tree, the which stands in the midst of my empire. I give to thee all that is under the earth and above the earth of the same tree." "O my reverend father," quoth he, "I thank you much."

Then said the emperor, "Call to me my second son." Anon the eldest son, greatly joying of his father's gift, called in his brother. And when he came, the emperor said, "My dear son, I may not make my testament, forasmuch as I have spent all my goods, except a tree which stands in the midst of mine empire, of the which tree, I bequeath to thee all that is great and small." Then answered he and said, "My reverend father, I thank you much."

Then said the emperor, "Call to me my third son." And so it was done. And when he was come the emperor said, "My dear son, I must die of these wounds, and I have only a precious tree, of which I have given thy brethren their portion, and to thee I bequeath thy portion; for I will that thou have of the said tree all that is wet and dry." Then said his son, "Father, I thank you."

Soon after the emperor had made his bequest, he died. And the eldest son took possession of the tree. Now when the second son heard this, he came to him, saying, "My brother, by what law or title occupy you this tree?" "Dear brother," quoth he, "I occupy it by this title: my father gave me all that is under the earth, and above of the said tree, by reason thereof the tree is mine." "Unknowing to thee," quoth the second brother, "he gave unto me all that is great and small of the said tree, and therefore I have as great right in the tree as you." This hearing, the third son he came to them and said, "My well-beloved brethren, it behoveth you not to strive for this tree, for I have as much right in the tree as ye, for by the law ye wot that the last will and testament ought to stand, for of truth he gave me of the said tree all that is wet and dry, and therefore the tree by right is mine; but forasmuch as your words are of great force and mine also, my counsel is that we be judged by reason, for it is not good nor commendable that strife or dissension should be among us. Here beside dwelleth a king full of reason; therefore, to avoid strife, let us go to him, and each of us lay his right before him, and as he shall judge, let us stand to his judgment." Then said his brethren, "Thy counsel is good." Wherefore they went all three unto the king of reason, and each of them severally showeth forth his right unto him, as it is said before.

When the king had heard the titles, he rehearsed them all again severally, first saying to the eldest son thus: "You say," quoth the king, "that your father gave you all that is under the earth and above the earth of the said tree. And to the second brother he bequeathed all that is great and small of that tree. And to the third brother he gave all that is wet and dry."

And with that he laid the law to them, and said that this will ought to stand.

"Now, my dear friends, briefly I shall satisfy all your requests;" and when he had thus said, he turned him unto the eldest brother, saying, "My dear friend, if you list to abide the judgment of right, it behoveth you to be letten blood of the right arm." "My lord," quoth he, "your will shall be done." Then the king called for a discreet physician, commanding him to let him blood.

When the eldest son was letten blood, the king said unto them all three, "My dear friends, where is your father buried?" Then answered they, and said, "Forsooth, my lord, in such a place." Anon the king commanded to dig in the ground for the body, and to take a bone out of his breast, and to bury the body again: and so it was done. And when the bone was taken out, the king commanded that it should be laid in the blood of the elder brother, and it should lie till it had received kindly the blood, and then to be laid in the sun and dried, and after that it should be washed with clear water. His servants fulfilled all that he had commanded: and when they began to wash, the blood vanished clean away; when the king saw this, he said to the second son, "It behoveth that thou be letten blood, as thy brother was." Then said he, "My lord's will shall be fulfilled," and anon he was done unto like as his brother was in all things, and when they began to wash the bone, the blood vanished away. Then said the king to the third son, "It behoveth thee to be letten blood likewise." He answered and said, "My lord, it pleaseth me well so to be." When the youngest brother was letten blood, and done unto in all things as the two brethren were before, then the king's servants began to wash the bone, but neither for washing nor rubbing might they do away the blood of the bone, but it ever appeared bloody: when the king saw this, he said, "It appeareth openly now that this blood is of the nature of the bone, thou art his true son, and the other two are bastards. I judge thee the tree for evermore."



In Rome some time dwelt a mighty emperor named Martin, which for entire affection kept with him his brother's son, whom men called Fulgentius. With this Martin dwelt also a knight that was steward of the empire, and uncle unto the emperor, which envied this Fulgentius, studying day and night how he might bring the emperor and this youth at debate. Wherefore the steward on a day went to the emperor, and said, "My lord," quoth he, "I that am your true servant, am bound in duty to warn your highness, if I hear anything that toucheth your honour, wherefore I have such things that I must needs utter it in secret to your majesty between us two." Then said the emperor, "Good friend, say on what thee list."

"My most dear lord," quoth the steward, "Fulgentius, your cousin and your nigh kinsman, hath defamed you wonderfully and shamefully throughout all your whole empire, saying that your breath stinketh, and that it is death to him to serve your cup." Then the emperor was grievously displeased, and almost beside himself for anger, and said unto him thus: "I pray thee, good friend, tell me the very truth, if that my breath stinketh as he saith?" "My lord," quoth the steward, "ye may believe me, I never perceived a sweeter breath in my days than yours is." "Then," said the emperor, "I pray thee, good friend, tell me how I may bring this thing to good proof."

The steward answered and said: "My lord," quoth he, "ye shall right well understand the truth; for to-morrow next when he serveth you of your cup, ye shall see that he will turn away his face from you, because of your breath, and this is the most certain proof that may be had of this thing." "Verily," quoth the emperor, "a truer proof cannot be had of this thing." Therefore anon, when the steward heard this, he went straight to Fulgentius, and took him aside, saying thus: "Dear friend, thou art near kinsman and also nephew unto my lord the emperor, therefore if thou wilt be thankful unto me, I will tell thee of a fault whereof my lord the emperor complaineth oft, and thinks to put thee from him, except it be the sooner amended, and that will be a great reproof to thee." Then said this Fulgentius: "Ah, good sir, for his love that died upon the cross, tell me why my lord is so sore moved with me, for I am ready to amend my fault in all that I can or may, and for to be ruled by your discreet counsel."

"Thy breath," quoth the steward, "stinketh so sore, that his drink doth him no good, so grievous unto him is the stinking breath of thy mouth." Then said Fulgentius unto the steward: "Truly; that perceived I never till now. But what think ye of my breath? I pray you tell me the very truth." "Truly," quoth the steward, "it stinketh greatly and foul." And this Fulgentius believed all that he had said, and was right sorrowful in his mind, and prayed the steward of his counsel and help in this woeful case. Then said the steward unto him, "If that thou wilt do my counsel, I shall bring this matter to a good conclusion; wherefore do as I shall tell thee.

"I counsel thee for the best, and also warn thee that when thou servest my lord the emperor of his cup, that thou turn thy face away from him, so that he may not smell thy stinking breath, until the time that thou hast provided thee of some remedy therefore."

Then was Fulgentius right glad, and sware to him that he would do by his counsel.

Not long after it befell that this young man Fulgentius served his lord as he was wont to do, and therewith suddenly he turned his face from the lord the emperor, as the steward had taught him.

And when the emperor perceived the avoiding of his head, he smote this young Fulgentius on the breast with his foot, and said to him thus: "O thou lewd varlet; now I see well it is true that I have heard of thee, and therefore go thou anon out of my sight, that I may see thee no more in this place." And with that this young Fulgentius wept full sore, and avoided the place, and went out of his sight.

And when this was done, the emperor called unto him his steward, and said, "How may I rid this varlet from the world, that thus hath defamed me?" "My most dear lord," quoth the steward, "right well you shall have your intent.

"For here beside, within these three miles, ye have brickmakers, which daily make great fire, for to burn brick, and also they make lime; therefore, my lord, send to them this night, charge them upon pain of death, that whosoever cometh to them first in the morning, saying to them thus, 'My lord commandeth them to fulfil his will,' that they take him and cast him into the furnace and burn him: and this night command you this Fulgentius, that he go early in the morning to your workmen, and that he ask them whether they have fulfilled your will which they were commanded or not; and then shall they, according to your commandment, cast him into the fire, and thus shall he die an evil death."

"Surely," quoth the emperor, "thy counsel is good; therefore call to me that varlet Fulgentius." And when the young man was come to the emperor's presence, he said to him thus: "I charge thee upon pain of death, that thou rise early in the morning, and go to the burners of lime and brick, and that thou be with them early before the sun rise, three miles from this house, and charge them in my behalf, that they fulfil my commandment, or else they shall die a most shameful death."

Then spake this Fulgentius: "My lord, if God send me my life, I shall fulfil your will, were it that I go to the world's end."

When Fulgentius had this charge, he could not sleep for thought, that he must rise early to fulfil his lord's commandment. The emperor about midnight sent a messenger on horseback unto his brickmakers, commanding, that upon pain of death, that whosoever came to them first in the morning, saying unto them (as is before rehearsed) they should take him and bind him, and cast him into the fire, and burn him to the bare bones.

The brickmakers answered and said, it should be done. Then the messenger returns home again, and told the emperor that his commandment should be diligently fulfilled.

Early in the morning following, Fulgentius arose and prepared him towards his way, and as he went, he heard a bell ring to service, wherefore he went to hear service, and after the end of service he fell asleep, and there slept a long while so soundly, that the priest, nor none other, might awake him.

The steward desiring inwardly to hear of his death, about two of the clock he went to the workmen, and said unto them thus: "Sirs," quoth he, "have ye done the emperor's commandment or not?"

The brickmakers answered him and said: "No, truly, we have not yet done his commandment, but it shall be done," and with that they laid hands on him. Then cried the steward, and said, "Good sirs, save my life, for the emperor commanded that Fulgentius should be put to death." Then said they, "The messenger told us not so, but he bade us, that whosoever came first in the morning, saying, as you have said, that we should take him, and cast him into the furnace, and burn him to ashes." And with that they threw him into the fire.

And when he was burnt, Fulgentius came to them and said, "Good sirs, have you done my lord's commandment?" "Yea, soothly," said they, "and therefore go ye again to the emperor, and tell him so." Then said Fulgentius, "For Christ's love, tell me that commandment?"

"We had in commandment," said they, "upon pain of death, that whosoever came to us first in the morning, and said like as thou hast said, that we should take him and cast him into the furnace. But before thee came the steward and therefore on him have we fulfilled the emperor's commandment; now he is burnt to the bare bones."

When Fulgentius heard this, he thanked God that he had so preserved him from death; therefore he took his leave of the workmen, and went again to the palace.

When the emperor saw him, he was almost distract of his wits for anger, and thus he said, "Hast thou been with the brickmakers, and fulfilled my commandment?" "Soothly, my gracious lord, I have been there, but ere I am there, your commandment was fulfilled." "How may that be true," quoth the emperor.

"Forsooth," said Fulgentius, "the steward came to them afore me, and said that I should have said, so they took him and threw him into the furnace; and if I had come any earlier, so would they have done to me, and therefore I thank God that he hath preserved me from death."

Then said the emperor, "Tell me the truth of such questions as I shall demand of thee." Then said Fulgentius to the emperor, "You never found me in any falsehood, and therefore I greatly wonder why ye have ordained such a death for me; for well ye know that I am your own brother's son." Then said the emperor to Fulgentius: "It is no wonder, for that death I ordained for thee, through counsel of the steward, because thou didst defame me throughout all my empire, saying, that my breath did stink so grievously, that it was death to thee, and in token thereof thou turnedst away thy face when thou servedst me of my cup, and that I saw with mine eyes; and for this cause I ordained for thee such a death; and yet thou shalt die, except I hear a better excuse."

Then answered Fulgentius, and said, "Ah, dear lord, if it might please your highness for to hear me, I shall show you a subtle and deceitful imagination." "Say on," quoth the emperor.

"The steward," quoth Fulgentius, "that is now dead, came to me and said, that ye told unto him that my breath did stink, and thereupon he counselled me, that when I served you of your cup, I should turn my face away; I take God to witness, I lie not."

When the emperor heard this, he believed him, and said, "O my nephew, now I see, through the right wise judgment of God, the steward is burnt, and his own wickedness and envy is fallen on himself, for he ordained this malice against thee, and therefore thou art much bound to Almighty God that hath preserved thee from death."



A law was made at Rome, that no man should marry for beauty, but for riches only; and that no woman should be united to a poor man, unless he should by some means acquire wealth equal to her own. A certain poor knight solicited the hand of a rich lady, but she reminded him of the law, and desired him to use the best means of complying with it, in order to effect their union. He departed in great sorrow; and after much inquiry, was informed of a rich duke, who had been blind from the day of his birth. Him he resolved to murder, and obtain his wealth; but found that he was protected in the daytime by several armed domestics, and at night by the vigilance of a faithful dog. He contrived, however, to kill the dog with an arrow, and immediately afterwards the master; with whose money he returned to the lady. He informed her that he had accomplished his purpose; and being asked how this had been done in so short a space of time, he told all that had happened.

The lady desired, before the marriage should take place, that he would go to the spot where the duke was buried, lay himself on his tomb, listen to what he might hear, and then report it to her. The knight armed himself, and went accordingly. In the middle of the night he heard a voice saying, "O duke, that liest here, what askest thou that I can do for thee?" The answer was, "O Jesus, thou upright judge, all that I require is vengeance for my blood unjustly spilt." The voice rejoined, "Thirty years from this time thy wish shall be fulfilled." The knight, extremely terrified, returned with the news to the lady. She reflected that thirty years were a long time, and resolved on the marriage. During the whole thirty years the parties remained in perfect happiness.

When the thirty years were nearly passed, the knight built a strong castle, and over one of the gates, in a conspicuous place, caused the following verses to be written—

"In my distress, religious aid I sought:
 But my distress relieved, I held it nought.
 The wolf was sick, a lamb he seemed to be;
 But health restored, a wolf again was he."

Interrogated as to the meaning of these enigmatical lines, the knight at once explained them, by relating his own story, and added, that in eight days time the thirty years would expire.

He invited all his friends to a feast at that date, and when the day was arrived, the guests placed at table, and the minstrels attuning their instruments of music, a beautiful bird flew in at the window, and began to sing with uncommon sweetness. The knight listened attentively and said, "I fear this bird prognosticates misfortune." He then took his bow, and shot an arrow into it, in presence of all the company. Instantly the castle divided into two parts, and, with the knight, his wife, and all who were in it, was precipitated to the lowest depth of the infernal regions. The story adds, that on the spot where the castle stood, there is now a spacious lake, on which no substance whatever floats, but is immediately plunged to the bottom.





Most Famous Dr. John Faustus,







Doctor Faustus.





Of his Parentage and Birth.

John Faustus, born in the town of Rhodes, being in the province of Weimar, in Germany, his father a poor husbandman, and not able well to bring him up, yet having an uncle at Wittenburg, a rich man, and without issue, took this Faustus from his father, and made him his heir, insomuch that his father was no more troubled with him, for he remained with his uncle at Wittenburg, where he was kept at the university in the same city, to study Divinity; but Faustus being of a naughty mind, and otherwise addicted, plyed not his studies, but betook himself to other exercises, which his uncle oftentimes hearing, rebuked him for it; as Eli oftentimes rebuked his children for sinning against the Lord, even so this good old man laboured to have Faustus apply his study to Divinity, that he might come to the knowledge of God and his law. But it is manifest that many virtuous parents have wicked children, as Cain, Reuben, Absolom, and such like, have been to their parents. So Faustus having godly parents, who seeing him to be of a toward wit, were desirous to bring him up in those virtuous studies, namely, of Divinity; but he gave himself secretly to necromancy, and conjuration, insomuch that few or none could perceive his profession.

But to the purpose, Faustus continued at study in the university, and was by the rectors, and sixteen masters afterwards, examined how he had profited in his studies, and being found by them, that none of his time were able to argue with him in divinity, or for the excellency of his wisdom to compare with him, with one consent they made him Doctor of Divinity. But Doctor Faustus, within short time after he had obtained his degree, fell into such fantasies, and deep cogitations, that he was mocked of many, and of the most part of the students was called the Speculator, and sometimes he would throw the Scriptures from him, as though he had no care of his former profession, so that he began a most ungodly life, as hereafter more at large may appear, for the old proverb saith, "Who can hold what will away?" So, who can hold Faustus from the devil, that seeks after him with all his endeavours; for he accompanied himself with divers that were seen in those devilish arts, and that had the Chaldean, Persian, Hebrew, Arabian, and Greek tongues, using figures, characters, conjurations, incantations, with many other ceremonies belonging to those infernal arts, as necromancy, charms, soothsaying, witchcraft, enchantment, being delighted with their books, words, and names so well, that he studied day and night therein, insomuch that he could not abide to be called Doctor of Divinity, but waxed a worldly man, and named himself an astrologian, and a mathematician, and for a shadow sometimes a physician, and did great cures, namely with herbs, roots, waters, drinks, receipts and glysters; and without doubt he was passing wise and excellent perfect in Holy Scripture. But he that knoweth his master's will, and doth it not, is worthy to be beaten with many stripes. It is written, "No man can serve two masters, and thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." But Faustus threw all this in the wind, and made his soul of no estimation, regarding more his worldly pleasures than the joys to come; therefore at the day of judgment, there is no hope of his redemption.



How Doctor Faustus began to practise his devilish Art,
and how he conjured the Devil,
making him to appear, and meet him on the morrow-morning
at his own House.

You have heard before that all Faustus's mind was to study the arts of necromancy and conjuration, the which exercise he followed day and night, and taking to him the wings of an eagle thought to fly over the whole world, and to know the secrets of heaven and earth, for his speculation was so wonderful, being expert in using his vocabula, figures, characters, conjuration, and other ceremonial actions, that in all haste he put in practice to bring the devil before him, and taking his way to a thick wood near to Wittenburg, called in the German tongue, Spisser Holt, that is in English, the Spisser's Wood, as Faustus would oftentimes boast of it among the crew, being in jollity, he came into the wood one evening into the cross-way, where he made with a wand a circle in the dust, and within that many more circles and characters; and thus he past away the time until it was nine or ten of the clock in the night, then began Dr. Faustus to call on Mephistophiles the Spirit, and to charge him in the name of Belzebub, to appear there presently, without any long stay.

Then presently the devil began so great a rumour in the wood, as if heaven and earth would have come together, with wind, and the trees bowed their tops to the ground, then fell the devil to roar, as if the whole wood had been full of lions, and suddenly about the circle run the devil, as if a thousand waggons had been running together on paved-stones. After this, at the four corners of the wood it thundered horribly, with such lightning, as the whole world to his seeming had been on fire. Faustus all this while, half amazed at the devil's so long tarrying, and doubting whether he were best to abide any more such horrible conjurings, thought to leave his circle, and depart, whereupon the devil made him such music of all sorts, as if the nymphs themselves had been in place: whereat Faustus revived, and stood stoutly in his circle, expecting his purpose, and began again to conjure the spirit Mephistophiles in the name of the Prince of Devils, to appear in his likeness: whereat suddenly, over his head hung hovering in the air a mighty dragon; then calls Faustus again after his devilish manner, at which there was a monstrous cry in the wood, as if hell had been open, and all the tormented souls cursing their condition.

Presently, not three fathoms above his head, fell a flame in manner of lightning, and changed itself into a globe; yet Faustus feared it not, but did persuade himself that the devil should give him his request before he would leave. Oftentimes after to his companions he would boast that he had the stoutest head under the cope of heaven at command. Whereat they answered, They knew no stouter than the Pope or Emperor. But Dr. Faustus said, "The head that is my servant, is above all upon earth;" and repeated certain words out of St. Paul to the Ephesians, to make his argument good, "The Prince of the World is upon earth and under heaven." Well, let us come again to his conjuration, where we left him at the fiery globe; Faustus, vexed at his spirit's so long tarrying, used his charms, with full purpose not to depart before he had his intent; and crying on Mephistophiles the spirit, suddenly the globe opened, and sprung up in the height of a man, so burning a time, in the end it converted to the shape of a fiery man. This pleasant beast ran about the circle a great while, and lastly appeared in the manner of a Gray Friar, asking Faustus what was his request.

Faustus commanded, that the next morning at twelve of the clock, he should appear to him at his house; but the devil would in no wise grant it. Faustus began to conjure him again, in the name of Belzebub, that he should fulfil his request; whereupon the spirit agreed, and so they departed each on his way.



The Conference of Doctor Faustus, with his Spirit Mephistophiles,
the Morning following at his own House.

Dr. Faustus, having commanded the spirit to be with him, at his hour appointed, he came and appeared in his chamber, demanding of Faustus what his desire was. Then began Dr. Faustus anew with him, to conjure him, That he would be obedient unto him, and to answer him certain articles, to fulfil them in all points:

1. That the spirit would serve him, and be obedient unto him in all things that he asked of him, from that hour until the hour of his death.

2. Further, anything that he desired of him, he should bring him.

3. Also that in all Faustus's demands and interrogations, the spirit should tell him nothing but that which was true.

Hereupon the spirit answered, and laid his case forth, that he had no such power of himself until he had first given his prince (that was ruler over him) to understand thereof, and to know if he could obtain so much of his lord: "Therefore speak farther, that I may do thy whole desire to my prince; for it is not in my power to fulfil without his leave."

"Show me the cause why?" said Faustus.

The spirit answered Faustus: "Thou shalt understand, that with us it is even as well a kingdom as with you on earth; yea, we have our rulers and servants, as I myself am one; and we have our whole number the legion, for although that Lucifer is thrust and fallen out of heaven, through his pride and high mind, yet he hath notwithstanding a legion of devils at his command, that we call the Oriental Princes, for his power is infinite; also there is a power in meridie, in septentrio, in occidente, and for that Lucifer hath his kingdom under heaven; we must change and give ourselves to men, to serve them at their pleasure. It is also certain, we have not as yet opened to any man the truth of our dwelling, neither of our ruling, neither what our power is; neither have we given any man any gift, or learned him anything, except he promise to be ours."

Dr. Faustus upon this arose where he sat, and said, "I will have my request, and yet I will not be damned."

The spirit answered: "Then shalt thou want thy desire, and yet art thou mine notwithstanding; if any men would detain thee, it is but in vain, for thy infidelity hath confounded thee."

Hereupon spake Faustus: "Get thee hence from me, and take St. Valentine's farewell, and Crisman with thee; yet I conjure thee, that thou be here at evening, and bethink thyself of what I have asked thee; ask thy prince's counsel therein."

Mephistophiles the spirit, thus answered, vanished away, leaving Faustus in his study, where he sat pondering with himself how he might obtain his request of the devil, without the loss of his soul; yet he was fully resolved in himself, rather than to want his pleasure, to do what the spirit and his lord should condition upon.



The second Time of the Spirit's appearing to Faustus at his House,
and their Parley.

Faustus continued in his devilish cogitations, never moving out of the place where the spirit left him, such was his fervent love to the devil; the night approaching, this swift-flying spirit appeared to Faustus, offering himself with all submission to his service, with full authority from his prince, to do whatsoever he would request; if so be Faustus would promise to be his. "This answer I bring thee, an answer must thou make by me again: yet I will hear what is thy desire, because thou hast sworn to me to be here at this time."

Dr. Faustus gave him this answer, though faintly for his soul's sake, that his request was none other, but to become a devil, or at least a limb of him, and that the spirit should agree to these articles following:

1. That he might be a spirit in shape and quality.

2. That Mephistophiles should be his servant at his command.

3. That Mephistophiles should bring him anything, and do for him whatsoever he desired.

4. That all times he would be in the house invisible to all men, except only to himself, and at his command to show himself.

5. That Mephistophiles should at all times appear at his command, in what form or shape soever he would.

Upon these points the spirit answered Dr. Faustus. That all this should be granted him, and fulfilled, and more if he would agree unto him upon certain articles as followeth:

1. That Dr. Faustus should give himself to the lord Lucifer, body and soul.

2. For confirmation of the same, he should make him a writing written in his own blood.

3. That he would be an enemy to all Christian people.

4. That he would deny the Christian belief.

5. That he let not any man change his opinion, if so be any man should go about to dissuade or withdraw him from it.

Farther the spirit promised Faustus to give him certain years to live in health and pleasure, and when such years were expired, that then Faustus would be fetched away; and if he would hold these articles and conditions, that then he should have whatsoever his heart would wish or desire; and that Faustus should quickly perceive himself to be a spirit in all manner of actions whatsoever. Hereupon Dr. Faustus's mind was inflamed, that he forgot his soul, and promises Mephistophiles to hold all things as he mentioned them: he thought the devil was not so black as they used to paint him, nor hell so hot as the people say.



The third Parley between Dr. Faustus and Mephistophiles
about a Conclusion.

After Dr. Faustus had made his promise to the devil, in the morning betimes he called the spirit before him, and commanded him, that he should always come to him like a friar, after the order of St. Francis, with a bell in his hand like St. Anthony, and to ring it once or twice before he appeared, that he might know of his certain coming: then Faustus demanded of his spirit what was his name?

The spirit answered, "My name is as thou sayest, Mephistophiles, and I am a prince, but a servant to Lucifer, and all the circuit from septentrio to the meridian, I rule under him."

Even at these words was this wicked wretch Faustus inflamed, to hear himself to have gotten so great a potentate to serve him, forgetting the Lord his Maker, and Christ his Redeemer, he became an enemy to all mankind; yea, worse than the giants, whom the poets said to climb the hills to make war with the gods, not unlike the enemy of God and Christ, that for his pride was cast into hell; so likewise Faustus forgot, that high climbers catch the greatest falls, and sweet meats have oft sourest sauce.

After a while Faustus promised Mephistophiles to write and make his obligation with all assurance of the articles in the chapter before rehearsed: a pitiful case, Christian reader, for certainly this letter or obligation was found in his house, after his most lamentable end, with all the rest of his damnable practices used in his whole life.

Wherefore I wish all Christians to take example by this wicked doctor, and to be comforted in Christ, concerning themselves with that vocation whereunto it has pleased God to call them, and not so esteem the vain delights of this life as did this unhappy Faustus in giving his soul to the devil: and to confirm it the more assuredly, he took a small penknife, and pricked a vein in his left hand, and for certainty thereupon were seen on his hand these words written, as if they had been written in his own blood, O Homo fuge; whereat the spirit vanished, but Faustus continued in his damnable mind.



How Dr. Faustus set his Blood in a Saucer on warm Ashes,
and writ as followeth:

I, John Faustus, doctor, do openly acknowledge with mine own hand, to the great force and strengthening of this letter, that since I began to study, and speculate the course and nature of the elements, I have not found, through the gift that is given me from above, any such learning and wisdom that can bring me to my desire and for that I find that men are unable to instruct me any farther in the matter; now have I, Dr. Faustus, to the hellish prince of Orient, and his messenger Mephistophiles, given both body and soul, upon such conditions, that they shall learn me, and fulfil my desires in all things, as they have promised and vowed unto me, with due obedience unto me, according to the articles mentioned between us.

Farther, I do covenant and grant with them by these presents, that at the end of twenty-four years next ensuing, the date of this present letter, they being expired, and I in the mean time, during the said years, be served of them at my will, they accomplishing my desires to the full in all points as we are agreed: that then I give to them all power to do with me at their pleasure, to rule, to send, fetch or carry me or mine, be it either body, soul, flesh, blood or goods, into their habitation, be it wheresoever: and hereupon I defy God and his Christ, all the Host of Heaven, and all living creatures that bear the shape of God; yea, all that live: And again I say it, and it shall be so, and to the more strengthening of this writing, I have written it with my own hand and blood, being in perfect memory: and hereupon I subscribe to it with my name and title, calling all the infernal, middle, and supreme powers to witness of this my letter and subscription.

John Faustus,   
Approved in the elements, and the spiritual doctor.



How Mephistophiles came for his Writing,
and in what manner he appeared, and his Sights he showed him;
and how he caused him to keep a Copy of his own Writing.

Dr. Faustus sitting pensive, having but one only boy with him, suddenly there appeared his spirit Mephistophiles in likeness of a very man, from whom issued most horrible fiery flames, insomuch that the boy was afraid, but being hardened by his master, he bid him stand still, and he should have no harm: this spirit began to bleat as in a singing manner. This pretty sport pleased Dr. Faustus well; but he would not call his spirit into his counting-house until he had seen more. Anon was heard a rushing of armed men, and trampling of horses; this ceasing, came a kennel of hounds, and they chased a great hart in the hall, and there the hart was slain. Faustus took heart, came forth and looked upon the hart, but presently before him there was a lion and a dragon together, fighting so fiercely, that Faustus thought they would have thrown down the house; but the dragon overcame the lion, and so they vanished. After this came in a peacock and peahen; the cock, bruising of his tail, turning to the female, beat her, and so vanished. Afterward followed a furious bull, that with a full fierceness ran upon Faustus, but coming near him vanished away. Afterward followed a great old ape; this ape offered Faustus the hand, but he refused; so the ape ran out of the hall again. Hereupon fell a mist in the hall, that Faustus saw no light, but it lasted not; and so soon as it was gone, there lay before Faustus two great sacks, one full of gold, another of silver.

Lastly, was heard by Faustus all manner of instruments of music, as organs, clarigolds, lutes, viols, citterns, waits, hornpipes, flutes, anomes, harps, and all manner of other instruments, which so ravished his mind, that he thought he had been in another world, forgot both body and soul, insomuch that he was minded never to change his opinion concerning that which he had done.

Hereat came Mephistophiles into the hall to Faustus, in apparel like unto a friar, to whom Faustus spake: "Thou hast done me a wonderful pleasure in showing me this pastime; if thou continue as thou hast begun, thou shalt win my heart and soul, yea, and have it."

Mephistophiles answered: "This is nothing; I will please thee better; yea, that thou mayst know my power on all, ask what request thou wilt of me, that shalt thou have, conditionally hold thy promise, and give me thy handwriting." At which words the wretch thrust forth his hand, saying, "Hold thee, there hast thou my promise."

Mephistophiles took the writing and willed Faustus to take a copy of it. With that the perverse Faustus being resolute in his damnation, wrote a copy thereof, and gave the devil the one, and kept in store the other. Thus the spirit and Faustus were agreed, and dwelt together; no doubt there was a virtuous house-keeping.



The manner how Faustus proceeded in this damnable Life, and of the diligent Service
that Mephistophiles used towards him.

Dr. Faustus having given his soul to the devil, renouncing all the powers of heaven, confirming all his lamentable action with his own blood, and having already delivered his writing now into the devil's hand, the which so puffed up his heart, that he forgot the mind of a man, and thought himself to be a spirit.

Thus Faustus dwelt at his uncle's house at Wittenburg, who died, and bequeathed it in his testament to his cousin Faustus.

Faustus kept a boy with him, that was his scholar, an unhappy wag, called Christopher Wagner, to whom this sport and life that he saw his master followed, seemed pleasant. Faustus loved the boy well, hoping to make him as good or better seen in his hellish exercises than himself, and he was fellow with Mephistophiles. Otherwise Faustus had no company in his house but himself and boy, and spirit that ever was diligent at Faustus's command, going about the house, clothed like a friar, with a little bell in his hand, seen of none but Faustus.

For victuals and other necessaries, Mephistophiles brought him at his pleasure from the Duke of Saxony, the Duke of Bavaria, and the Bishop of Salisburg; and they had many times their best wine stolen out of their cellars by Mephistophiles, likewise their provisions for their own table. Such meat as Faustus wished for, his spirit brought him in. Besides that, Faustus himself was become so cunning, that when he opened his window, what fowl soever he wished for, it came presently flying into the house, were it never so dainty. Moreover, Faustus and his boy went in sumptuous apparel, the which Mephistophiles stole from the mercers at Norenburg, Aspurg, Franckford, and Tipzig; for it was hard for them to find a lock to keep out such a thief. All their maintenance was but stolen and borrowed ware; and thus they lived an odious life in the sight of God, though as yet the world were unacquainted with their wickedness. It must be so, for their fruits be none other, as Christ saith in John, where he calls the devil a thief and murderer; and that found Faustus, for he stole him away both body and soul.



How Dr. Faustus would have married, and how the Devil had almost killed him for it.

Dr. Faustus continued thus in this epicurish life day and night, believed not that there was a God, hell, or devil: he thought that soul and body died together, and had quite forgot divinity, or the immortality of the soul, but stood in that damnable heresy day and night, and bethinking himself of a wife, called Mephistophiles to council: which would in no case agree, demanding of him if he would break the covenant made with him, or if he had forgot it. "Hast thou," quoth Mephistophiles, "sworn thyself an enemy to God and to all creatures? To this I answer thee, Thou canst not marry, thou canst not serve two masters, God and my prince; for wedlock is a chief institution ordained of God, and that thou hast promised to defy as we do all, and that hast thou not only done, but moreover thou hast confirmed it with thy blood, persuade thyself that what thou dost in contempt of wedlock, it is all to thy own delight. Therefore, Faustus, look well about thee, and bethink thyself better, and I wish thee to change thy mind, for if thou keep not what thou hast promised in thy writing, we will tear thee in pieces like the dust under thy feet. Therefore, sweet Faustus, think with what unquiet life, anger, strife, and debate thou shalt live in when thou takest a wife. Therefore change thy mind."

Dr. Faustus was with these speeches in despair; and as all that have forsaken the Lord can build upon no good foundation, so this wretched doctor having forsook the rock, fell into despair with himself, fearing, if he should motion matrimony any more, that the devil should tear him in pieces. "For this time," quoth he to Mephistophiles, "I am not minded to marry." "Then dost thou well," answered his spirit.

But within two hours after Faustus called again to his spirit, who came in his old manner like a friar. Then Faustus said unto him, "I am not able to resist or bridle my fancy; I must and will have a wife, and I pray thee give thy consent to it." Suddenly upon these words came such a whirlwind about the place that Faustus thought the whole house would have come down; all the doors of the house flew off the hooks. After all this his house was full of smoke, and the floor covered with ashes; which, when Dr. Faustus perceived, he would have gone upstairs, and flying up he was taken and thrown down into the hall, that he was not able to stir hand nor foot; then round about him ran a monstrous circle of fire, never standing still, that Faustus cried as he lay, and thought there to have been burned. Then cried he out to his spirit Mephistophiles for help, promising him he would live, for all this, as he had vowed by his handwriting. Hereupon appeared unto him an ugly devil, so dreadful and monstrous to behold, that Faustus durst not look on him. The devil said, "What wouldst thou have, Faustus? How likest thou thy wedding? What mind art thou in now?" Faustus answered, he had forgot his promise, desiring of him pardon, and he would talk no more of such things. "Thou art best so to do;" and so vanished from him.

After appeared unto him his friar Mephistophiles, with a bell in his hand, and spake to Faustus: "It is no jesting with us; hold thou that which thou hast vowed, and we will perform that which we have promised; and more than that, thou shalt have thy heart's desire of what woman soever thou wilt, be she alive or dead, and so long as thou wilt thou shalt keep her by thee." These words pleased Faustus wonderful well, and repented himself that he was so foolish to wish himself married, that might have any woman in the whole city brought him at his command, the which he practised and persevered in a long time.



Questions put forth by Dr. Faustus unto his Spirit Mephistophiles.

Dr. Faustus living in all manner of pleasure that his heart could desire, continuing of his amorous drifts, his delicate fare, and costly apparel, called on a time his Mephistophiles to him, who being come, brought him a book in his hand of all manner of devilish and enchanting arts, the which he gave Faustus, saying, "Hold, my Faustus; work now thy heart's desire." The copy of this enchanting book was afterwards found by his servant Christopher Wagner. "Well," quoth Faustus to his spirit, "I have called thee to know what thou canst do if I have need of thy help."

Then answered Mephistophiles, and said, "My lord Faustus, I am a flying spirit, yea, so swift as thought can think, to do whatsoever."

Here Faustus said, "But how came lord and master Lucifer to have so great a fall from heaven?"

Mephistophiles answered: "My lord Lucifer was a fair angel, created of God as immortal, and being placed in the Seraphims, which are above the Cherubims, he would have presumed upon the Throne of God, with intent to thrust God out of his seat; upon this presumption the Lord cast him down headlong, and where before he was an angel of light, now dwells in darkness, not able to come near his first place, without God send for him to appear before him; as Raphael, unto the lower degree of angels, that have their conversation with men, he may come, but not unto the second degree of the heavens, that is kept by the archangels, namely, Michael and Gabriel, for these are called Angels of God's wonders; these are far inferior places to that from whence my lord and master Lucifer fell; and thus far, Faustus, because thou art one of the beloved children of the lord Lucifer, following thy mind in manner as he did his, I have shortly resolved thy request, and more I will do for thee at thy pleasure."

"I thank thee, Mephistophiles," quoth Faustus, "come, let us now go to rest, for it is night;" upon this they left their communication.



How Dr. Faustus dreamed that he had seen Hell in his Sleep,
and how he questioned with the Spirit of matters concerning Hell,
with the Spirit's answer.

The night following after Faustus's communication with Mephistophiles, as concerning the fall of Lucifer, Dr. Faustus dreamed that he had seen a part of hell, but in what manner it was, or in what place, he knew not, whereby he was much troubled in mind, and called unto him Mephistophiles his spirit, saying unto him, "I pray thee resolve me in this doubt: What is hell? What substance is it of? In what place stands it? And when was it made?"

Mephistophiles answered: "Faustus, thou shalt know, that before the fall of my lord Lucifer there was no hell, but even then was hell ordained. It is no substance, but a confused thing; for I tell thee, that before all elements were made, or the earth seen, the spirit of God moved upon the waters, and darkness was over all; but when God said, 'Let there be light,' it was at his word, and the light was on God's right hand, and he praised the light. Judge thou farther, God stood in the middle, the darkness was on his left hand, in the which my Lord was bound in chains until the day of judgment. In this confused hell is nought to find but a sulphurish fire, and stinking mist or fog. Farther, we devils know not what substance it is of, but a confused thing; for as the bubble of water flieth before the wind, so doth hell before the breath of God. Moreover, the devils know not how God hath laid the foundation of our hell, nor where it is; but to be short, Faustus, we know that hell hath neither bottom nor end."



The second Question put forth by Dr. Faustus to his Spirit,
what Kingdoms were in Hell, how many,
and what were the Rulers' names.

Faustus spake again to his spirit, saying, "Thou speakest of wonderful things: I pray thee now tell me what kingdoms are there in your hell? How many are there? What they are called? And who rules them?"

The spirit answered him: "My Faustus, know that hell is, as thou wouldst think with thyself, another world, in the which we have our being under the earth, even to the heavens; within the circumference whereof are contained ten kingdoms, namely, 1. Lacus Mortis. 2. Stagnum Ignis. 3. Terra Tenebrosa. 4. Tartarus. 5. Terra Oblivionis. 6. Gehenna. 7. Erebus. 8. Barathrum. 9. Styx. 10. Acheron. The which kingdoms are governed by five kings, that is, Lucifer in the Orient, Belzebub in Septentrio, Belial in Meredie, Ascheroth in the Occident, and Phlegeton in the midst of them all; whose rules and dominions have no end until the day of doom; and thus far, Faustus, hast thou heard of our rule and kingdom."



Another Question put forth by Dr. Faustus to his Spirit,
concerning his Lord Lucifer,
with the sorrow that Faustus fell afterwards into.

Dr. Faustus began again to reason with Mephistophiles, requiring him to tell in what form and shape, and in what estimation his lord Lucifer was, when he was in favour with God.

Whereupon his spirit required of him three days' respite, which Faustus granted.

The three days being expired, Mephistophiles gave him this answer: "Faustus, my lord Lucifer (so called now for that he was banished out of the clear light of heaven) was at the first an angel of God, yea, he was so of God ordained for shape, pomp, authority, worthiness, and dwelling, that he far exceeded all the other creatures of God, yea, or gold and precious stones; and so illuminated that he far surpassed the brightness of the sun, and all other stars where God placed him on the cherubims; he had a kingly office, and was always before God's seat, to the end he might be the more perfect in all his being; but when he began to be high-minded, proud, and so presumptuous, that he would usurp the seat of God's Majesty, then was he banished out from amongst the heavenly powers, separated from their abiding, into the manner of a fiery stone, that no water is able to quench, but continually burneth until the end of the world."

Dr. Faustus, when he had heard the words of his spirit, began to ponder with himself, having divers and sundry opinions in his head, and very pensively, saying nothing to his spirit, he went into his chamber and laid him on his bed, recording the words of Mephistophiles, which so pierced his heart that he fell into sighing and great lamentation, crying out, "Alas! Ah, woe is me! What have I done? Even so shall it come to pass with me: am I not also a creature of God's making, bearing his own image and similitude, into whom he hath breathed the spirit of life and immortality, unto whom he hath made all things living subject; but woe is me! My haughty mind, proud aspiring stomach, and filthy flesh, hath brought my soul into perpetual damnation, yea, pride hath abused my understanding, insomuch that I have forgot my Maker, the Spirit of God is departed from me; I have promised the devil my soul, and therefore it is but a folly for me to hope for grace, but it must be even with me as with Lucifer, thrown into perpetual burning fire: ah! woe is me that ever I was born."

In this perplexity lay this miserable Dr. Faustus, having quite forgot his faith in Christ, never falling to repentance truly, thereby to attain the grace and holy Spirit of God again, the which would have been able to have resisted the strong assaults of Satan; for although he had made him a promise, yet he might have remembered, through true repentance sinners may once come again into the favour of God, which faith the faithful firmly hold, knowing they that kill the body are not able to hurt the soul; but he was in all his opinions doubtful, without faith or hope, and so he continued.



Another disputation betwixt Dr. Faustus and his Spirit,
of the Power of the Devil, and
his Envy to Mankind.

After Faustus had a while pondered and sorrowed with himself on his wretched estate, he called again Mephistophiles unto him, commanding him to tell him the judgment, rule, power, attempts, tyranny, and temptation of the devil; and why he was moved to such kind of living?

Whereupon the spirit answered to this question: "That thou demandest of me will turn thee to no small discontentment; therefore thou shouldst not have desired of me such matters, for it toucheth the secrets of our kingdom, although I cannot deny to resolve thy request: therefore know, Faustus, that so soon as my lord Lucifer fell from Heaven, he became mortal enemy both to God and man, and hath used, as now he doth, all manner of tyranny to the destruction of man, as is manifested by divers examples: one falling suddenly dead, another hangs himself, another drowns himself, others stab themselves, others unlawfully despair, and so come to utter confusion. The first Adam, that was made perfect to the similitude of God, was by my lord's policy the whole decay of man; yea, Faustus, in him was the beginning and first tyranny of my lord Lucifer to man. The like did he with Cain; the same with the children of Israel when they worshipped strange gods, and fell to whoredom with strange women; the like with Saul; so did he by the seven husbands of her that after was the wife of Tobias; likewise Dagon, our fellow, brought to destruction fifty thousand men, whereupon the ark of God was stolen, and Belial made David to number his men, whereupon were slain sixty thousand. Also he deceived King Solomon, that worshipped the gods of the heathen: and there are such spirits innumerable, that can come by men, and tempt them, and drive them to sin, and weaken their belief; for we rule the hearts of kings and princes, stirring them up to war and bloodshed, and to this intent do we spread ourselves through all the world, as the utter enemies of God and his Son Christ—yea, and all that worship them, and that thou knowest by thyself, Faustus. How have we dealt by thee?"

To this said Faustus: "Then thou didst also beguile me?"

"I did what I could to help thee forward, for as soon as I saw how thy heart did despise thy degree taken in divinity, and didst study to search and know the secrets of our kingdom, then did I enter into thee, giving thee divers foul and filthy cogitations, pricking thee forward in thy intent, persuading thee thou couldst never attain to thy desire till thou hadst the help of some devil; and when thou wast delighted in this, then took I root in thee, and so firmly, that thou gavest thyself to us both body and soul, which thou canst not deny."

Hereat answered Faustus: "Thou sayest true; I cannot deny it. Ah, woe is me, most miserable Faustus! How have I been deceived! Had I not had a desire to know too much, I had not been in this case; for having studied the lives of the holy saints and prophets, and thereby thought to understand sufficient heavenly matters, I thought myself not worthy to be called Dr. Faustus if I should not also know the secrets of hell, and be associated with the furious fiends thereof; now, therefore, must I be rewarded accordingly."

Which speeches being uttered, Faustus went very sorrowful away from his spirit.



How Dr. Faustus desired again of his Spirit, to know the
Secrets and Pains of Hell;
and whether those damned Devils, and their Company, might ever
come to the Favour and Love of God again.

Dr. Faustus was pondering with himself how he might get loose from so damnable an end as he had given himself unto, both soul and body; but his repenting was like that of Cain and Judas—he thought his sin greater than God could forgive; hereupon resting his mind, he looked up to heaven, but saw nothing therein, for his heart was so possessed of the devil that he could think of nought else but of hell and the pains thereof.

Wherefore in all haste he called unto him his spirit Mephistophiles, desiring him to tell him some more of the secrets of hell; what pain the damned are in, and how they were tormented; and whether the damned souls might get again the favour of God, and so be released out of their torments or not.

Whereupon the spirit answered: "My Faustus, thou mayst well leave to question any more of such matters, for they will but disquiet thy mind; I pray thee, what meanest thou, thinkest thou through these thy fantasies to escape us? No, for if thou shouldst climb up to heaven, there to hide thyself, yet would I thrust thee down again; for thou art mine, and thou belongest to our society. Therefore, sweet Faustus, thou wilt repent this thy foolish demand, except thou be content that I shall tell thee nothing."

Quoth Faustus, ragingly: "I will know, or I will not live, wherefore dispatch and tell me."

To whom Mephistophiles answered: "Faustus, it is no trouble unto me at all to tell thee; and therefore since thou forcest me thereto, I will tell thee things to the terror of thy soul, if thou wilt abide the hearing: thou wilt have me to tell thee of the secrets of hell, and of the pains thereof. Know, Faustus, that hell hath many figures, semblances, and names; but it cannot be named or figured in such sort to the living that are damned, as it is to those that are dead, and do both see and feel the torments thereof: for hell is said to be deadly, out of which came never any to life again but one, but he is nothing for thee to reckon upon; hell is bloodthirsty, and is never satisfied: hell is a valley into which the damned souls fall; for so soon as the soul is out of man's body, it would gladly go to the place from whence it came, and climbeth up above the highest hills, even to the heavens, where being by the angels of the first model denied entertainment (in consideration of their evil life spent on earth), they fall into the deepest pit or valley, that hath no bottom, into a perpetual fire which shall never be quenched; for like as the flint thrown in the water loseth not virtue, neither is the fire extinguished, even so the hellish fire is unquenchable: and even as the flint-stone in the fire burns red hot, and consumeth not, so likewise the damned souls in our hellish fire are ever burning, but their pain never diminishing. Therefore is hell called the everlasting pain, in which is never hope for mercy; so it is called utter darkness, in which we see neither the light, the sun, moon, nor stars; and were our darkness like the darkness of night, yet were there hope of mercy: but ours is perpetual darkness, clean exempt from the face of God. Hell hath also a place within it, called Chasma, out of which issueth all manner of thunders and lightnings, with such shriekings and wailings, that oftentimes the very devils themselves stand in fear thereof; for one while it sendeth forth wind, with exceeding snow, hail, and rain, congealing the water into ice, with the which the damned are frozen, gnash their teeth, howl, and cry, yet cannot die. Other whiles, it sendeth forth most horrible hot mists, or fogs, with flashing of flames of fire and brimstone, wherein the sorrowful souls of the damned lie broiling in their reiterated torments. Yea, Faustus, hell is called a prison, wherein the damned lie continually bound; it is called Pernicies and Exitium, death, destruction, hurtfulness, mischief, a mischance, a pitiful and evil thing, world without end. We have also with us in hell a ladder, reaching of exceeding height, as though the top of the same would touch the heaven, to which the damned ascend to seek the blessing of God, but through their infidelity, when they are at very highest degree, they fall down again into their former miseries, complaining of the heat of that unquenchable fire; yea, sweet Faustus, so much understand thou of hell, the while thou art desirous to know the secrets of our kingdom. And mark, Faustus, hell is the nurse of death, the heat of fire, the shadow of heaven and earth, the oblivion of all goodness; the pains unspeakable, the griefs unremovable, the dwelling of the devils. Dragons, serpents, adders, toads, crocodiles, and all manner of venomous and noisome creatures; the puddle of sin, the stinking far ascending from the Stygian lake, brimstone, pitch, and all manner of unclean metals, the perpetual and unquenchable fire, the end of whose miseries was never purposed by God. Yea, yea, Faustus, thou sayest I shall, I must, nay, I will tell thee the secrets of our kingdom, for thou buyest it dearly, and thou must and shalt be partaker of our torments, that, as the Lord said, shall never cease, for hell, the woman's belly, and the earth, are never satisfied; there shalt thou abide horrible torments, howling, crying, burning, freezing, melting, swimming in a labyrinth of miseries, scolding, smoking in thine eyes, stinking in thy nose, hoarseness in thy speech, deafness in thy ears, trembling in thy hands, biting thine own tongue with pain, thy heart crushed as with a press, thy bones broken, the devils tossing firebrands unto thee: yea, thy whole carcass tossed upon muck-forks from one devil to another; yea, Faustus, then wilt thou wish for death, and he will fly from thee, thine unspeakable torments shall be every day augmented more and more, for the greater the sin the greater is the punishment. How likest thou this, my Faustus? A resolution answerable to thy request.

"Lastly, Thou wilt have me tell thee that which only belongeth to God, which is, if it be possible for the damned to come again into the favour of God, or not. Why, Faustus, thou knowest that this is against thy promise; for why shouldst thou desire to know that having already given thy soul to the devil, to have the pleasure of the world, and to know the secrets of hell; therefore thou art damned, and how canst thou then come again to the favour of God? Wherefore I discreetly answer, no; for whomsoever God hath forsaken and thrown into hell must there abide his wrath and indignation in that unquenchable fire, where is no hope of mercy to be looked for, but abiding his perpetual pains, world without end: for even as much it availeth thee, Faustus, to hope for the favour of God again as Lucifer himself; who indeed, although he and we have a hope, yet it is to small avail and taketh none effect, for out of that place God will neither hear crying nor singing; if he do, thou shalt have a little remorse, as Dives, Cain, and Judas had. What helpeth the emperor, king, prince, duke, earl, baron, lord, knight, esquire, or gentleman, to cry for mercy being there? Nothing; for if on earth they would not be tyrants and self-willed, rich with covetousness, proud with pomp, gluttons, drunkards, whoremongers, backbiters, robbers, murderers, blasphemers, and such like, then were there some hope to be looked for; therefore, my Faustus, as thou comest to hell with these qualities thou mayst say with Cain, 'My sins are greater than can be forgiven;' go hang thyself with Judas; and lastly, be contented to suffer torments with Dives. Therefore know, Faustus, that the damned have neither end nor time appointed in the which they may hope to be released; for if there were any such hope that they, by throwing one drop of water out of the sea in a day until it were dry, or there were one heap of sand as high as from the earth to the heavens, that a bird carrying away but one corn in a day, at the end of this so long labour, that yet they might hope at the last God would have mercy on them, they would be comforted; but now there is no hope that God once thinks upon them, or that their howling shall ever be heard; yea, so impossible it is for thee to hide thyself from God, as it is impossible for thee to remove the mountains, or to empty the sea, or to tell the drops of rain that have fallen from heaven until this day, or to tell what there is most of in the world; yea, and as for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, even so impossible it is for thee, Faustus, and the rest of the damned, to come again into the favour of God. And thus, Faustus, hast thou heard my last sentence, and I pray thee, how dost thou like it? But know this, that I counsel thee to let me be unmolested hereafter with such disputations, or else will I vex thee every limb to thy small contentment."

Dr. Faustus parted from his spirit very pensive and sorrowful, laying him on his bed, altogether doubtful of the grace and favour of God, wherefore he fell into fantastical cogitations. Fain he would have had his soul at liberty again, but the devil had so blinded him, and had taken such deep root in his heart, that he could never think to crave God's mercy; or, if by chance he had any good motion, straightways the devil would thrust in a fair lady into his chamber, which fell to kissing and dalliance with him, through which means he threw the godly motions in the wind, going forward still in his wicked practice, to the utter ruin both of body and soul.



Another Question put forth by Dr. Faustus to his Spirit Mephistophiles
of his own Estate.

Dr. Faustus being yet desirous to hear more strange things, called his spirit unto him, saying, "My Mephistophiles, I have yet another suit unto thee, which I pray thee deny me not to resolve me of."

"Faustus," quoth the spirit, "I am loth to reason with thee any further, for thou art never satisfied in thy mind, but always bringest me a new."

"Yet, I pray thee, this once," quoth Faustus, "do me so much favour as to tell me the truth in this matter, and hereafter I will be no more so earnest with thee."

The spirit was altogether against it; but yet once more he would abide him. "Well," said the spirit to Faustus, "what demandest thou of me."

Faustus said, "I would gladly know of thee if thou wert a man in manner and form as I am, what wouldst thou do to please both God and man?"

Whereat the spirit smiled, saying, "My Faustus, if I was a man as thou art, and that God had adorned me with those gifts of nature which thou once hadst, even so long as the breath of God were by and within me, would I humble myself unto his majesty, endeavouring all that I could to keep his commandments, praise him and glorify him, that I might continue in his favour, so were I sure to enjoy the eternal joy and felicity of his kingdom."

Faustus said, "But that I have not done."

"No, thou sayest truth," quoth Mephistophiles, "thou hast not done it; but thou hast denied the Lord thy Maker which gave thee the breath of life, speech, hearing, sight, and all other thy reasonable senses, that thou mightest understand his will and pleasure, to live to the glory and honour of his name, and to the advancement of thy body and soul. Him, I say, being thy Maker, hast thou denied and defied; yea, wickedly hast thou applied that excellent gift of understanding, and given thy soul to the devil; therefore give none the blame but thine own self-will, thy proud and aspiring mind, which hath brought thee unto the wrath of God and utter damnation."

"This is most true," quoth Faustus; "but tell me, Mephistophiles, would thou be in my case as I am now?"

"Yea," saith the spirit (and with that fetched a great sigh), "for yet I would so humble myself that I would win the favour of God."

"Then," said Dr. Faustus, "it were time enough for me if I amended."

"True," said Mephistophiles, "if it were not for thy great sins, which are so odious and detestable in the sight of God, that it is too late for thee, for the wrath of God resteth upon thee."

"Leave off," quoth Faustus, "and tell me my question to my greater comfort."




Dr. Faustus having received denial of his spirit to be resolved any more in such questions propounded, forgot all good works, and fell to be a calendar-maker by the help of his spirit, and also in short time to be a good astronomer or astrologian. He had learned so perfectly of his spirit the course of the sun, moon, and stars, that he had the most famous name of all the mathematicians that lived in his time, as may well appear by his works dedicated unto sundry dukes and lords, for he did nothing without the advice of his spirit, which learned him to presage of matters to come, which have come to pass since his death. The like praise won he with his calendars and almanack-making; for when he presaged of anything, operations, and alterations of the weather or elements, as wind, rain, fogs, snow, hail, moist, dry, warm, cold, thunder, lightning, it fell so duly out, as if an angel of heaven had forewarned it. He did not, like the unskilful astronomers in our time, that set in winter, cold moist air, frosty, and in the dog days, hot, dry, thunder, fire, and such like; but he set in all his works the day and hour, when, where, and how it should happen. If any wonderful things were at hand, as mortality, famine, plague, wars, he would set the time and place, in true and just order, when it would come to pass.



A Question put forth by Dr. Faustus to his Spirit,
concerning Astronomy.

Now Faustus falling to practice, and making his prognostications, he was doubtful in many points, wherefore he called unto him Mephistophiles his spirit, saying, "I find the ground of the science very difficult to attain unto; for when that I confer Astronomia and Astrologia, as the mathematicians and ancient writers have left in memory, I find them vary, and very much to disagree; wherefore I pray thee to teach me the truth of this matter."

To whom his spirit answered: "Faustus, thou shalt know that the practitioners or speculators, or at least the first inventors of these arts, have done nothing of themselves certain, whereupon thou mayst attain to the true prognosticating or presaging of things concerning the heavens, or of the influence of the planets; for if by chance some one mathematician or astronomer have left behind him anything worthy of memory, they have so blinded it with enigmatical words, blind characters, and such obscure figures, that it is impossible for any earthly man to attain the knowledge thereof without the aid of some spirits, or else the special gift of God, for such as are the hidden works of God from men, yet do we spirits, that fly and fleet all elements, know such; and there is nothing to be done, or by the heavens portended, but we know it, except only the day of doom. Wherefore, Faustus, learn of me: I will teach thee the course and re-course of the planets, the cause of winter and summer, the exaltation and declination of the sun, and eclipse of the moon, the distance and height of the poles and every fixed star, the nature and opposition of the elements—fire, air, water, and earth—and all that is contained in them; yea, herein there is nothing hidden from me, but only the filthy essence which once thou hadst, Faustus, at liberty, but now thou hast lost it past recovery; therefore, leaving that which will not be again had, learn now of me to make thunder, lightning, hail, snow, and rain; the clouds to rend the earth; and craggy rocks to shake and split in sunder; the seas to swell and roar, and overrun their marks. Knowest thou not that the deeper the sun shines the hotter it pierces; so the more thy art is famous whilst thou art here, the greater shall be thy name when thou art gone. Knowest thou not that the earth is frozen, cold, and dry; the water running, cold and moist; the air flying, hot and moist; the fire consuming, hot and dry: yea, Faustus, so must thy heart be inflamed like the fire to mount on high. Learn, Faustus, to fly like myself, as swift as thought from one kingdom to another: to sit at princes' tables, to eat their dainty fare, to have thy pleasure of their ladies, wives, and concubines; to use all their jewels and costly robes as things belonging unto thee, and not unto them. Learn of me, Faustus, to run through walls, doors, and gates of stone and iron; to creep into the earth like a worm, or swim in the water like a fish; to fly in the air like a bird, and to live and nourish thyself in the fire like a salamander: so shalt thou be famous, renowned, far spoken of, and extolled for thy skill; going on knives not hurting thy feet, carrying fire in thy bosom and not burning thy shirt; seeing through the heavens as through a crystal, wherein is placed the planets, with all the rest of the presaging comets—the whole circuit of the world from east to west, north and south. There shalt thou know, Faustus, whereof the fiery sphere above, and the signs of the Zodiac doth not burn and consume the whole face of the earth, being hindered by placing the two moist elements between them—the airy clouds and wavering waves of water. Yea, Faustus, I will learn thee the secrets of Nature; what the cause is, that the sun in summer, being at the highest, giveth all his heat downwards on the earth; and being winter at the lowest, giveth all his heat upwards into the heavens; that the snow should be of so great virtue as the honey, and the Lady Saturnia in occulto more hot than the sun in manifesto. Come on, my Faustus; I will make thee as perfect in these ways as myself; I will learn thee to go invisible, to find out the mines both of gold and silver, the fodines of precious stones—as the carbuncle, the diamond, sapphire, emerald, ruby, topaz, jacinth, granat, jaspies, amethyst: use all these at thy pleasure—take thy heart's desire. Thy time, Faustus, weareth away; then why wilt thou not take thy pleasure of the world? Come up, we will go unto kings at their own courts, and at their most sumptuous banquets be their guests. If willingly they invite us not, then by force we will serve our own turn with their best meat and daintest wine."

"Agreed," quoth Faustus; "but let me pause a while upon this thou hast even now declared unto me."



How Dr. Faustus fell into Despair with himself, for having put
a question unto his Spirit; they fell at Variance,
whereupon the Rout of Devils appeared unto him,
threatening him sharply.

Dr. Faustus resolved with himself the speeches of his spirit, and became so woeful and sorrowful in his cogitations that he thought himself already frying in the hottest flame of hell; and lying in this muse, suddenly there appeared unto him his spirit, demanding what thing so grieved and troubled his conscience?

Whereat Dr. Faustus gave no answer. Yet the spirit lay very earnestly upon him to know the cause, and if it were possible he would find a remedy for his grief and ease him of his sorrows.

To whom Faustus answered, "I have taken thee unto me as a servant to do my service, and thy service will be very dear unto me; yet I cannot have any diligence of thee farther than thou list thyself, neither dost thou in anything as it becometh thee."

The spirit replied: "My Faustus, thou knowest that I was never against thy commandment as yet, but ready to serve and resolve thy questions, although I am not bound unto thee in such respects as concern the hurt of our kingdom; yet was I always willing to answer thee, and so am I still: therefore, my Faustus, say on boldly, what is thy will and pleasure?"

At which words the spirit stole away the heart of Faustus, who spake in this sort: "Mephistophiles, tell me how and after what sort God made the world and all the creatures in it? And why man was made after the image of God?"

The spirit hearing this, answered Faustus: "Thou knowest that all this is in vain for thee to ask. I know that thou art sorry for what thou hast done, but it availeth thee not; for I will tear thee in a thousand pieces if thou change not thy opinions." And hereat he vanished away.

Whereat Faustus, all sorrowful that he had put forth such a question, fell to weeping and to howling bitterly, not for his sins towards God, but that the devil was departed from him so suddenly in such a rage. And being in this perplexity, he was suddenly taken with such extreme cold, as if he would have frozen in the place where he sat, in which the greatest devil in hell appeared unto him, with certain of his hideous and infernal company, in most ugly shapes, that it was impossible to think upon; and traversing the chamber round about where Faustus sat, Faustus thought to himself, "Now are they come for me, though my time be not come, and that because I have asked such questions of my servant Mephistophiles." At whose cogitations the chiefest devil, which was the lord unto whom he gave his soul, that was Lucifer, spake in this sort: "Faustus, I have seen thy thoughts, which are not as thou hast vowed unto me, by the virtue of this letter [and showed him the obligation which he had written with his own blood]; wherefore I am come to visit thee, and to show thee some of our hellish pastimes, in hope that will draw and confirm thy mind a little more steadfast unto us."

"Content," quoth Faustus: "go to, let me see what pastime you can make."

At which words the great devil in his likeness sate him down by Faustus, commanding the rest of his devils to appear in the form as if they were in hell. First entered Belial, in form of a bear, with curled black hair to the ground, his ears standing upright; within his ears were as red as blood, out of which issued flames of fire; his teeth were at least a foot long, and as white as snow, with a tail three ells long at the least, having two wings, one behind each arm; and thus one after another they appeared to Faustus in form as they were in hell. Lucifer himself sate in a manner of a man all hairy, but of brown colour like a squirrel, curled, and his tail curling upwards on his back as the squirrels use. I think he could crack nuts too like a squirrel. After him came Belzebub in curled hair of a horse-flesh colour, his head like the head of a bull, with a mighty pair of horns, and two long ears down to the ground, and two wings on his back, with two pricking things like horns; out of his wings issued flames of fire; his tail was like a cow's. Then came Astaroth in the form of a worm, going upright on his tail, and had no feet, but a tail like a glow-worm; under his chops grew two short hands, and his back was coal black; his belly thick in the middle, yellow, like gold, having many bristles on his back like a hedgehog. After him came Cannagosta, being white and grey mixed, exceeding curled and hairy; he had a head like the head of an ass, and a tail like a cat, and claws like an ox, lacking nothing of an ell broad. Then came Anobis: this devil had a head like a dog, white and black hair; in shape like a hog, saving that he had but two feet—one under his throat, the other at his tail; he was four ells long, with hanging ears like a blood-hound. After him came Dithican: he was a short thief, in form of a large bird, with shining feathers, and four feet; his neck was green, and body red, and his feet black. The last was called Brachus, with very short feet, like a hedgehog, yellow and green; the upper side of his body was brown, and the belly like blue flames of fire, the tail red like the tail of a monkey. The rest of the devils were in form of unreasonable beasts, as swine, harts, bears, wolves, apes, buffes, goats, antelopes, elephants, dragons, horses, asses, lions, cats, snakes, toads, and all manner of ugly odious serpents and worms; yet came in such sort that every one at his entry into the hall made their reverence unto Lucifer, and so took their places, standing in order as they came until they had filled the whole hall, wherewith suddenly fell a most horrible thunder-clap, that the house shook as if it would have fallen unto the ground; upon which every monster had a muck-fork in his hand, holding them towards Faustus as though they would have run a tilt at him; which, when Faustus perceived, he thought upon the words of Mephistophiles, when he told him how the souls in hell were tormented, being cast from devil to devil upon muck-forks, he thought verily to have been tormented there by them in like sort.

But Lucifer perceiving his thought, spake to him, "My Faustus, how likest thou this crew of mine?"

Quoth Faustus, "Why came you not in another manner of shape?"

Lucifer replied: "We cannot change our hellish form, we have showed ourselves here as we are there; yet can we blind men's eyes in such sort, that when we will, we appear unto them as if we were men or angels of light, although our dwelling be in darkness."

Then said Faustus, "I like not so many of you together."

Whereupon Lucifer commanded them to depart, except seven of the principal; forthwith they presently vanished, which Faustus perceiving, he was somewhat better comforted, and spake to Lucifer, "Where is my servant Mephistophiles? let me see if he can do the like."

Whereupon came a fierce dragon flying, and spitting fire round about the house, and coming towards Lucifer, made reverence, and then changed himself to the form of a friar, saying, "Faustus, what wilt thou?"

Faustus said, "I will that thou teach me to transform myself in like sort, as thou and the rest have done."

Then Lucifer put forth his paw and gave Faustus a book, saying, "Hold, do what thou wilt."

Which he looking upon, straightways changed himself into a hog, then into a worm, then into a dragon, and finding thus for his purpose it liked him well.

Quoth he to Lucifer, "And how cometh it that so many filthy forms are in the world?"

Lucifer answered, "They are ordained of God, as plagues unto men, and so shalt thou be plagued," quoth he; whereupon came scorpions, wasps, emets, bees, and gnats, which fell to stinging and biting him, and all the whole house was filled with a most horrible stinking fog, insomuch that Faustus saw nothing, but still was tormented; wherefore he cried for help, saying, "Mephistophiles, my faithful servant, where art thou? Help, help, I pray thee."

Hereat the spirit answered nothing, but Lucifer himself said, "Ho, ho, ho, Faustus, how likest thou the creation of the world?"

And incontinent it was clear again, and the devils and all the filthy cattle were vanished, only Faustus was left alone, seeing nothing, but hearing the sweetest music that ever he heard before; at which he was so ravished with delight, that he forgot his fears he was in before, and it repented him that he had seen no more of their pastime.



How Dr. Faustus desired to see Hell, and of the manner
how he was used therein.

Dr. Faustus bethinking how his time went away, and how he had spent eight years thereof, he meant to spend the rest to his better contentment, intending quite to forget any such motions as might offend the devil any more: wherefore on a time he called his spirit Mephistophiles, and said unto him, "Bring thou hither unto me thy lord Lucifer or Belial." He brought him (notwithstanding) one that was called Belzebub, the which asked Faustus his pleasure.

Quoth Faustus, "I will know of thee if I might see hell, and take a view thereof?"

"That thou shalt," said the devil, "and at midnight I will fetch thee."

Well, night being come, Dr. Faustus waited very diligently for the coming of the devil to fetch him, and thinking that he tarried too long, he went to the window, where he pulled open a casement, and looking into the element, he saw a cloud in the north more black, and darker, and obscurer than all the rest of the sky, from whence the wind blew most horribly right into Faustus's chamber, and filled the whole house with smoke, that Faustus was almost smothered; hereat fell an exceeding thunder-clap, and withal came a great rugged black bear all curled, and upon his back a chair of beaten gold, and spake to Faustus, saying, "Sir, up and away with me:" and Dr. Faustus that had so long abode the smoke, wished rather to be in hell than there, got on the devil, and so they went on together.

Mark how the devil blinded him, and made him believe he carried him into hell, for he carried him into the lake, where Faustus fell into a sound sleep, as if he had sate into a warm water or bath: at last they came to a place which burneth continually with flashing flames of fire and brimstone, whereout issued an exceeding mighty clap of thunder, with so horrible a noise that Faustus awaked. But the devil went forth on his way, and carried Faustus therein, yea, notwithstanding however it burnt, Dr. Faustus felt no more heat than as it were the glimpse of the sun in May; there heard he all manner of music to overcome him, but saw none playing on them; it pleased him well, but he durst not ask, for he was forbidden it before. To meet the devil and the guest that came with him came three other ugly devils, the which ran back again before the bear, to make the way; against whom there came running an exceeding great hart, which would have thrust Faustus out of the chair; but being defended by the other three devils, the hart was put to the repulse: thence going on the way, Faustus looked, and behold there was nothing but snakes, and all manner of venomous beasts about him, which were exceeding great: unto the which snakes came many storks, and swallowed up the whole multitude of snakes, that they left not one: which when Faustus saw, he marvelled greatly. But proceeding farther on their hellish voyage, there came forth out of a hollow clift an exceeding great flying bull, the which with such a force hit Faustus's chair with his head and horns, that he turned Faustus and his bear over and over, so that the bear vanished away: whereat Faustus began to cry, "Oh! woe to me that ever I came here!" For he thought there to have been beguiled of the devil; and to make an end before his time appointed or conditioned of the devil: but shortly after came to him a monstrous ape, bidding Faustus to be of good cheer, and said, "Get upon me."

All the fire in hell seemed to Faustus to have been put out, whereupon followed a monstrous thick fog, that he saw nothing, but shortly after it seemed to him to wax clear, where he saw two great dragons fastened unto a waggon, in the which the ape ascended and set Faustus therein; forth flew the dragons into an exceeding dark cloud, where Faustus saw neither dragons nor chariot wherein he sate, and such were the cries of tormented souls, with mighty thunder-claps and flashing lightnings about his ears, that poor Faustus shook for fear; upon this they came to a water, stinking and filthy, thick like mud, into the which ran the dragons, sinking under with waggon and all; but Faustus felt no water, but as it were a small mist, saving that the waves beat so sore upon him, that he saw nothing under or over him but only water, in the which he lost his dragons, ape, and waggon; and sinking deeper and deeper, he came at last as it were upon a high rock, where the waters parted and left him thereon: but when the water was gone, it seemed to him he should there have ended his life, for he saw no way but death. The rock was so high from the bottom as heaven is from the earth. There sate he, seeing nor hearing any man, and looked ever upon the rock. At length he saw a little hole out of which issued fire. Thought he, "How shall I now do? I must either fall to the bottom or burn in the fire, or sit in despair." With that, in his madness he gave a skip into the fire-hole, saying, "Hold, you infernal hags! take here this sacrifice as my last end, that which I have justly deserved."

Upon this he was entered, and finding himself as yet unburned or touched of that fire, he was the better appayed. But there was so great a noise that he never heard the like before; it passed all the thunder that ever he had heard. And coming down farther to the bottom of the rock, he saw a fire, wherein were many worthy and noble personages, as emperors, kings, dukes, and lords, and many thousand more tormented souls, at the edge of which fire ran a most pleasant, clear, and cold water to behold; into the which many tormented souls sprang out of the fire to cool themselves, but being so freezing cold, they were constrained to return again into the fire, and thus wearied themselves and spent their endless torments out of one labyrinth into another, one while in heat, another while in cold. But Faustus, standing here all this while gazing on them that were thus tormented, he saw one leaping out of the fire, shrieking horribly, whom he thought to have known, wherefore he would fain have spoken unto him, but remembering he was forbidden, he refrained speaking. Then this devil that brought him in, came to him again in likeness of a bear, with the chair on his back, and bid him sit up, for it was time to depart. So Faustus got up, and the devil carried him out into the air, where he had so sweet music that he fell asleep by the way.

His boy Christopher, being all this while at home, and missing his master so long, thought his master would have tarried and dwelt with the devil for ever; but whilst the boy was in these cogitations, his master came home; for the devil brought him home fast asleep as he sate in his chair, and threw him on his bed, where (being thus left of the devil) he lay until day. When he awaked, he was amazed, like a man who had been in a dark dungeon; musing with himself, if it were true or false that he had seen hell, or whether he was blinded or not; but he rather persuaded himself he had been there than otherwise, because he had seen such wonderful things; wherefore he most carefully took pen and ink, and wrote those things in order as he had seen; which writing was afterwards found by his boy in his study, which afterwards was published to the whole city of Wittenburg in print, for example to all Christians.



How Dr. Faustus was carried through the Air, up to the Heavens
to see the whole World, and how the Sky and Planets ruled;
after the which he wrote a Letter to his Friend of the same to Liptzig,
and how he went about the World in eight days.

This letter was found by a freeman and citizen of Wittenburg, written with his own hand, and sent to his friend at Liptzig, a physician, named Love Victori, the contents of which were as followeth:

"Amongst other things, my beloved friend and brother, I remember yet the former friendship we had together when we were schoolfellows and students in the university at Wittenburg; whereas you first studied physic, astronomy, astrology, geometry, and cosmography, I, to the contrary, you know, studied divinity, notwithstanding now in any of your own studies I am sure I have proceeded farther than yourself; for since I began I have never erred, for, might I speak it without affecting mine own praise, my calendars and other practices have not only the commendations of the common sort, but also the chiefest lords and nobles of this our Dutch nation, because (which is chiefly to be noted) I write and presage of matters to come, which all accord and fall out so right, as if they had already been before. And for thee, my beloved Victori, you write to know my voyage which I made unto the heavens, the which (as you certify me) you have had some suspicion of, although you partly persuade yourself that it is a thing impossible; no matter for that, it is as it is, and let it be as it will, once it is done in such a manner as now according, unto your request, I will give you here to understand. I being once laid in my bed, and I could not sleep for thinking on my calendar and practice, I marvelled with myself how it were possible that the firmament should be known, and so largely written of by men, or whether they write true or false, by their own opinions and suppositions, or by due observation and true course of the heavens; behold, I thought my house would have been blown down, so that all my doors and chests flew open, whereat I was not a little astonished, for withal I heard a groaning voice, which said, 'Get up; the desire of thy heart, mind, and thought thou shalt see.' At the which I answered, 'What my heart desireth that would I fain see; and to make proof if I shall see, I will away with thee.' 'Why, then,' quoth he, 'look out the window, there cometh a messenger for thee.' That did I; and behold, there stood a waggon with two dragons before it to draw the same, and all the waggon was of a light burning fire, and for that the moon shone I was the willinger at that time to depart. But the voice spoke again: 'Sit up, and let us away.' 'I will,' said I, 'go with thee, but upon condition that I may ask after all things that I see, hear, or think on.' The voice answered: 'I am content for this time.' Hereupon I got me into the waggon, so that the dragons carried me up right into the air.

"The waggon had four wheels, the which rattled so, and made such a noise, as if it had been all this while running on the stones, and round about us flew flames of fire; and the higher that I came, the more the earth seemed to be darkened, so that methought I came out of a dungeon; and looking down from heaven, behold Mephistophiles my spirit and servant was behind me; and when he perceived that I saw him, he came and sate by me; to whom I said, 'I pray thee, Mephistophiles, whither shall I go now?' 'Let not that trouble thy mind,' said he; and yet they carried us higher up. And now I will tell thee, good friend and schoolfellow, what things I have seen and proved; for on the Tuesday I went out, and on Tuesday seven nights following I came home again, that's eight days, in which time I slept not, no not one wink came within my eyes; and we went invisible of any man; and as the day began to appear, after the first night's journey, I said to my spirit Mephistophiles, 'I pray thee how far have we now ridden? I am sure thou knowest, for methinks we have ridden exceeding far, the world seemeth so little.' Mephistophiles answered me, 'My Faustus, believe me, that from the place from whence thou camest unto this place where we now are is already forty-seven leagues right in height.' And as the day increased, I looked down into the world. Asia, Europe, and Africa, I had a sight of; and being so high, quoth I to my spirit, 'Tell me how these kingdoms lie, and what they are called?' The which he denied not, saying, 'See this on our left hand is Hungaria, this is also Prussia on our left hand, and Poland, Muscovia, Tartary, Silesia, Bohemia, Saxony; and here on our right hand, Spain, Portugal, France, England, and Scotland; then right on before us lie the kingdoms of Persia, India, Arabia, the king of Althar, and the great Cham. Now we are come to Wittenburg, and are right over the town of Weim, in Austria, and ere long we will be at Constantinople, Tripoli, and Jerusalem, and after will we pierce the frozen zone, and shortly touch the horizon and the zenith of Wittenburg.' There looked I on the ocean sea, and beheld a great many ships and galleys ready to battle one against another; and thus I spent my journey, and I cast my eyes here, now there, towards south, north, east, and west. I have been in one place where it rained and hailed, and in another where the sun shone excellent fair; and so I think that I saw most things in and about the world, with great admiration; that in one place it rained, and in another hail and snow; on this side the sun shone bright, some hills covered with snow never consuming, others were so hot that grass and trees were burned and consumed therewith. Then looked I up to the heavens, and behold they went so swift, that I thought they would have sprung into thousands; likewise it was so clear and so hot, that I could not gaze upon it, it so dimmed my sight; and had not my spirit Mephistophiles covered me, as it were with a shadowing cloud, I had been burnt with the extreme heat thereof; for the sky which we behold here, when we look up from the earth, is so fast and thick as a wall, clear and shining bright as crystal, in which is placed the sun, which casteth forth his rays and beams over the whole world, to the uttermost confines of the earth. But we think that the sun is very little; no, it is altogether as big as the world; indeed the body substantial is but little in compass, but the rays or streams that it casteth forth by reason of the thing wherein it is placed, maketh him to extend and show himself all over the whole world; and we think that the sun runneth his course, and that the heavens stand still; no, it is the heavens that moves his course, and the sun abideth perpetually in his place, he is permanent and fixed in his place; and although we see him beginning to ascend in the orient or east, at the highest in the meridian or south, setting in occident or west, yet is he in the lowest in septentrio or north, and yet he moveth not, it is the axle of the heavens that moveth, the whole firmament being a chaos or confused thing, and for that proof I will show this example: like as thou seest a bubble made of water and soap blown out of a quill, it is in form of a confused mass or chaos, and being in this form is moved at pleasure of the wind, which runneth round about that chaos, and moveth him also round; even so the whole firmament or chaos, wherein are placed the sun and the rest of the planets, is turned and carried at the pleasure of the spirit of God, which is wind. Yea, Christian reader, to the glory of God, and to the profit of my soul, I will open unto thee a divine opinion touching the rule of this confounded chaos, far more than my rude German author, being possessed with the devil, was able to utter, and prove some of my sentences before to be true; look into Genesis, into the works of God, at the creation of the world, there shalt thou find that the spirit of God moved upon the water, before heaven and earth were made. Mark how he made it, and how by his word every element took his place; these were not his works, but his words, for all the words he used before, concluded afterwards in one work, which was in making man. Mark, reader, with patience, for thy soul's health, see into all that was done by the word and work of God. Light and darkness was, the firmament stood, and the great and little light in it; the moist waters were in one place, the earth was dry, and every element brought forth according to the word of God. Now follow his works: he made man after his own image. How? Out of the earth. The earth will shape no image without water; there was one of the elements; but all this while there was wind. All elements were at the word of God. Man was made, and in a form by the work of God, yet moved not that work before God had breathed the spirit of life into his nostrils, and made him a living soul. Here was the first wind and spirit of God, out of his own mouth; which we have likewise from the same seed which was only planted by God in Adam; which wind, breath, or spirit, when he had received, he was living and moved on earth; for it was ordained of God for his habitation, but the heavens are the habitation of the Lord. And like as I showed before of the bubble or confused chaos made of water and soap, through the wind and breath of man is turned round and carried with the wind, even so the firmaments wherein the sun and the rest of the planets are fixed, be moved, turned, and carried with the wind, breath, and spirit of God; for the heavens and firmaments are moveable as the chaos, but the sun is fixed in the firmament. And farther, my good schoolfellow, I was thus nigh the heavens, where methought every planet was but as half the earth, and under the firmament ruled the spirits in the air. As I came down, I looked upon the world and heavens, and methought that the earth was inclosed (in comparison) within the firmament as the yolk of an egg within the white; methought that the whole length of the earth was not a span long, and the water was as it had been twice as broad and as long as the earth. Even thus, at eight days' end, I came home again, and fell asleep, and so I continued sleeping three days and three nights together, and the first hour I waked, fell fresh again to my calendars, and have made them in right ample manner as you know. And to satisfy your request for that you write unto me, I have (in consideration of our old friendship had at the university of Wittenburg) declared unto you my heavenly voyage, wishing no worse unto you than unto myself, that is, that your mind were as mine in all respects. Dixi, Dr. Faustus the astrologian."



How Dr. Faustus made his Journey through the principal and most famous Lands in the World.

Dr. Faustus having overrun fifteen years of his appointed time, he took upon him a journey, with full intent to see the whole world, and calling his spirit Mephistophiles unto him, he said, "Thou knowest that thou art bound unto me upon conditions, to form and fulfil my desire in all things, wherefore my intent is to visit the whole face of the earth, visible and invisible, when it pleaseth me; therefore I command and enjoin thee to the same." Whereupon Mephistophiles answered, "I am ready, my lord, at thy command;" and forthwith the spirit changed himself into the likeness of a flying horse, saying, "Faustus, sit up, I am ready."

Dr. Faustus softly sate upon him, and forwards they went. Faustus came through many a land and province, as Pannonia, Austria, Germany, Bohemia, Silesia, Saxony, Messene, During, Frankland, Swaalband, Byerland, Sayrir, Corinthia, Poland, Litaw, Lesland, Prussia, Denmark, Muscovia, Tartaria, Turkey, Persia, Cathai, Alexandria, Barbaria, Ginny, Porut, the Straights Maghellane, India, all about the frozen zone, and Terra-incognita, Nova Hispaniola, the Isles of Tereza, Madera, St. Michaels, the Canaries, and the Trenorirolcio into Spain, and Mainland, Portugal, Italy, Campania, the Kingdom of Naples, the Isles of Sicilia, Malta, Majorca, Minorca, to the Knights of the Rhodes, Candy or Crete, Cypress, Corinth, Switzerland, France, Freezeland, Westphalia, Zealand, Holland, Brabant, and all the seventeen provinces in Netherland, England, Scotland, Ireland, and America, and Island, the Gut-Isles of Scotland, the Orcades, Norway, the Bishopric of Bream; and so home again.

All these kingdoms, and provinces, and countries he passed in twenty-five days, in which time he saw nothing that delighted his mind; wherefore he took little rest at home, and burning in desire to see more at large, and to behold the secrets of each kingdom, he set forward again on his journey on his swift horse Mephistophiles, and came to Trent, for that he chiefly desired to see this town, and the monuments thereof, but there he saw not any wonders, except two fair palaces that belonged unto the bishop, and also a mighty large castle that was built with brick, with three walls, and three great trenches, so strong that it was impossible for any prince's power to win it; then he saw a church wherein was buried Simon and the bishop of Popo. Their tombs are of most sumptuous stone-marble, closed and joined together with great bars of iron. From thence he departed to Paris, where he liked well the academy; and what place or kingdom soever fell in his mind, the same he visited.

He came from Paris to Mentz, where the river of Maine falls into the Rhine, notwithstanding he tarried not long there, but went into Campania, in the kingdom of Neapoly, in which he saw an innumerable sort of cloisters, nunneries, and churches, and great houses of stone, the streets fair and large, and straight forth from one end of the town to the other all alike, and all the pavement of the city was of brick, and the more it rained in the town the fairer the streets were. There saw he the tomb of Virgil, and the highway that he cut through the mighty hill of stone in one night, the whole length of an English mile, where he saw the number of galleys and argosies that lay there at the city head, the windmill that stood in the water, the castle in the water, and the houses above the water, where many galleys might ride most safely from rain or wind; then he saw the castle on the hill over the town, and many monuments therein, also the hill called Vesuvius, whereon groweth all the Greekish wine and most pleasant sweet olives.

From thence he came to Venice, whereat he wondered not a little to see a city so famously built standing in the sea, where through every street the water came in such largeness that great ships and barques might pass from one street to another, having yet a way on both sides the water whereon men and horses might pass. He marvelled also how it was possible so much victuals to be found in the town, and so good and cheap, considering that for a whole league nothing grew near the same. He wondered not a little at the fairness of St. Mark's Place, and the sumptuous church standing thereon, called St. Mark; how all the pavement was set with coloured stones, and all the rood or loft of the church double gilded over.

Leaving this, he came to Padua, beholding the manner of their academy, which is called the mother or nurse of Christendom; there heard he the doctors, and saw most of the monuments of the town, entered his name in the university of the German nation, and wrote himself Dr. Faustus, the insatiable speculator. Then saw he the worthiest monument in the world for a church, named St. Anthony's Cloister, which for the pinnacles thereof and the contrivement of the church, hath not the like in Christendom. The town is fenced about with three mighty walls of stone and earth, betwixt the which runneth goodly ditches of water. Betwixt every four-and-twenty hours passeth boats betwixt Padua and Venice with passengers, as they do here betwixt London and Gravesend, and even so far they differ in distance. Faustus beheld likewise the council-house and castle, with no small wonder.

Well, forward he went to Rome, which lay, and doth yet lie, on the river Tibris, the which divideth the city into two parts. Over the river are four great stone bridges, and upon the one bridge, called Ponte St. Angelo, is the Castle of St. Angelo, wherein are so many great cast pieces as there are days in the year, and such pieces as will shoot seven bullets off with one fire. To this castle cometh a privy vault from the church and the palace of St. Peter, through the which the pope (if any danger be) passeth from his palace to the castle for safeguard. The city hath eleven gates, and a hill called Vaticinium, whereupon St. Peter's church is built. In that church the holy fathers will hear no confessions without the penitent bring money in his hand. Adjoining to the church is the Campo Santo, the which Carolus Magnus built, where every day thirteen pilgrims have their dinners served of the best; that is to say, Christ and his twelve apostles. Hard by this he visited the churchyard of St. Peter, where he saw that pyramid that Julius Cæsar brought forth of Africa; it stood in Faustus's time leaning against the church-wall of St. Peter's; but Pope Sixtus hath erected it in the middle of St. Peter's churchyard. It is fourteen fathom long, and at the lower end five fathom four square, and so forth smaller upwards. On the top is a crucifix of beaten gold, the stone standing on four lions of brass. Then he visited the seven churches of Rome, that were St. Peter, St. Paul, St. Sebastian, St. John Lateran, St. Laurence, St. Mary Magdalen, and St. Mary Majora. Then went he without the town, where he saw the conduits of water that run level through hill and dale, bringing water into the town fifteen Italian miles off. Other mountains he saw, too many to recite.

But amongst the rest he was desirous to see the pope's court, and his manner of service at his table, wherefore he and his spirit made themselves invisible, and came to the pope's court and privy-chamber, where he was; there saw he many servants attending on his holiness, with many a flattering sycophant carrying his meat; and there he marked the pope, and the manner of his service, which he seeing to be so unmeasurable and sumptuous: "Fie," quoth Faustus, "why had not the devil made a pope of me?" Faustus saw there notwithstanding such as were like to himself, proud, stout, wilful gluttons, drunkards, whoremongers, breakers of wedlock, and followers of all manner of ungodly excess; wherefore he said to his spirit, "I thought that I had been alone a hog or pork of the devil's, but he must bear with me a little longer; for these hogs of Rome are ready fatted, and fitted to make him roast meat; the devil might do well to spit them all, and have them to the fire, and let him summon the nuns to turn the spits; for as none must confess the nun but the friar, so none should turn the roasting friar but the nun." Thus continued Faustus three days in the pope's palace, and yet had no lust to his meat, but stood still in the pope's chamber, and saw everything whatsoever it was.

On a time the pope would have a feast prepared for the Cardinal of Pavia, and for his first welcome the cardinal was bidden to dinner, and as he sate at meat the pope would ever be blessing and crossing over his mouth. Faustus would suffer it no longer, but up with his fist and smote the pope on his face, and withal he laughed that the whole house might hear him, yet none of them saw him, or knew where he was. The pope persuaded his company that it was a damned soul, commanding mass presently to be said for his delivery out of purgatory, which was done; the pope sat still at meat, but when the latter mess came to the pope's board, Dr. Faustus laid hands thereon, saying, "This is mine," and so he took both dish and meat, and flew into the Capitol or Campadolia, calling his spirit unto him, and said, "Come, let us be merry, for thou must fetch me some wine, and the cup that the pope drinks out of; and hereupon morte caval, we will make good cheer in spite of the pope and all his fat abbey lubbers."

His spirit hearing this, departed towards the pope's chamber, where he found them yet sitting, quaking; wherefore he took from before the pope the fairest piece of plate, or drinking goblet, and a flagon of wine, and brought it to Faustus.

But when the pope and the rest of his crew perceived they were robbed, and knew not after what sort, they persuaded themselves that it was a damned soul that before had vexed the pope so, and that smote him on the face; wherefore he sent commandment through the whole city of Rome, that they should say a mass in every church, and ring all the bells, for to lay the walking spirit, and to curse him with bell, book, and candle, that so invisibly had misused the pope's holiness, with the Cardinal of Pavia, and the rest of their company.

But Faustus notwithstanding made good cheer with that which he had beguiled the pope of, and in the midst of the order of St. Bernard's, bare-footed friars, as they were going on procession through the market-place, called Campo de Fiore, he let fall his plate, dish, and cup, and withal for a farewell he made such a thunder-clap and storm of rain, as though heaven and earth would have met together, and left Rome, and came to Millain in Italy, near the Alps or borders of Switzerland, where he praised much to his spirit the pleasures of the place, the city being founded in so brave a plain, by the which ran most pleasant rivers on every side of the same, having besides within the compass of a circuit of seven miles, seven small seas: he saw also therein many fair places, and goodly buildings, the duke's palace, and the mighty strong castle, which is in a manner half the bigness of the town. Moreover, it liked him well to see the hospital of St. Mary, with divers other things: he did there nothing worthy of memory, but he departed back again towards Bologna, and from thence to Florence, where he was well pleased to see the pleasant walk of merchants, the goodly vaults of the city, for that almost the whole city is vaulted, and the houses themselves are built outwardly in such sort, that the people go under them as under a vault: then he perused the sumptuous church in the duke's castle, called Nostra Dama, our Lady's church, in which he saw many monuments, as a marble door most huge to look upon; the gates of the castle are bell-metal, wherein are graven the holy patriarchs, with Christ and his twelve apostles, and divers other histories out of the Old and New Testament.

Then went he to Siena, where he highly praised the church and hospital of Sancta Maria Formosa, with the goodly buildings, and especially the fairness and greatness of the city, and beautiful women: then came he to Lyons in France, where he marked the situation of the city, which lay between two hills, environed with two waters; one worthy monument pleased him well, that was the great church, with the image therein; he commended the city highly for the great resort that it had unto it of strangers.

From thence he went to Cullen, which lieth upon the river of Rhine, wherein he saw one of the ancientest monuments in the world, the which was the tomb of the three kings that came by the angel of God, and their knowledge they had in the stars, to worship Christ, which when Faustus saw, he spake in this manner: "Ah! alas, good men! How have you erred, and lost your way! You should have gone to Palestina, and Bethlehem in Judea; how came you hither? Or belike after your death you were thrown into Mare Mediterraneum, about Tripolis in Syria, and so you steered out of the Straights of Gibralterra, in the ocean seas, and so into the Bay of Portugal. And not finding any rest, you are driven along the coast of Gallicia, Biscay and France, and into the narrow seas: then from thence into Mare Germanicum, and taken up I think about the town of Dort in Holland: you were brought to Cullen to be buried, or else (I think) you came most easily with a whirlwind over the Alps, and being thrown into the river of Rhine, it conveyed you to this place where you are kept a monument." Then saw he the church of St. Ursula, where remains a monument of the thousand virgins; it pleased him also to see the beauty of the women.

Not far from Cullen lieth the town of Ach, where he saw the gorgeous temple that the Emperor Carolus Quartus built of marble-stone for a remembrance of him, to the end that all his successors should there be crowned.

From Cullen and Ach he went to Geneva, a city in Savoy, lying near Switzerland; it is a town of great traffic, the lord thereof is a bishop, whose wine-cellar Faustus and his spirit visited for the love of his good wine.

From thence he went to Strasburg, where he beheld the fairest temple that ever he had seen in his life before, for on every side thereof he might see through, even from the covering of the minster to the top of the pinnacle, and it is named one of the wonders of the world; wherefore, he demanded why it is called Strasburg? His spirit answered, "Because it hath so many highways common to it on every side, for Stros in Dutch is a Highway, and hereof came the name: yea," said Mephistophiles, "the church that thou so wonderest at, hath more revenues belonging to it than the twelve dukes of Silesia are worth, for there pertain unto this church fifty-five towns, and four hundred and sixty-three villages, besides many houses in the town."

From thence went Faustus to Basil, in Switzerland, where the river of Rhine runneth through the town, parting the same as the river of Thames doth London: in the town of Basil he saw many rich monuments, the town walled with brick round about, without it goeth a great trench: no church pleased him but the Jesuits' church, which was sumptuously builded, and set full of alabaster pillars, where the spirit told Faustus that before the city was founded, there used a Basiliscus, a kind of serpent: this serpent killed as many men, women and children as he took a sight of, but there was a knight that made himself a cover of crystal, to come over his head and down to the ground, and being first covered with a black cloth, over that he put the crystal, and so boldly went to see the Basiliscus, and finding the place where she haunted, he expected her coming even before the mouth of the cave, where standing a while, the Basiliscus came forth, where when she saw her own venomous shadow in the crystal, she split in a thousand pieces, wherefore the knight was richly rewarded of the emperor, after the which the knight founded this town upon the place where he had slain the serpent, and gave it the name Basil, in remembrance of his deed.

From Basil, Faustus went to Costnitz in Sweitz, at the head of the Rhine, where is a most sumptuous bridge that goeth over the Rhine, even from the gates of the town to the other side of the stream; at the head of the river of Rhine, is a small sea, called of the Switzers the Black Sea, twenty thousand paces long, and fifty hundred paces broad. The town Costnitz took the name of this; the emperor gave it a clown for expounding of his riddle: wherefore the clown named the town Costnitz, that is in English, "Cost me nothing."

From Costnitz he came to Ulm, where he saw the sumptuous town house built by two-and-fifty of the ancient senators of the city; it took the name Ulm, because the whole land thereabouts is full of Elms: but Faustus minding to depart from thence, his spirit said unto him, "Faustus, think of the town as you will; it hath three dukedoms belonging to it, the which they have bought with ready money."

From Ulm he came unto Watzberg, the chiefest town in Frankland, wherein the bishop altogether keepeth his court, through the which town passeth the river Mayne, that runs into the Rhine; thereabouts groweth strong and pleasant wine, the which Faustus well proved: the castle standeth on a hill on the north side of the town, at the foot thereof runneth the river. This town is full of beggarly friars, nuns, priests, and Jesuits; for there are five sorts of begging friars, besides three cloisters of nuns; at the foot of the castle stands a church, in the which there is an altar, where are engraven all the four elements, and all the orders and degrees in heaven, that any man of understanding whosoever, that hath a light thereof, may say that it is the artificialist thing that ever he beheld.

From thence he went to Norenberg, whither as he went by the way his spirit informed him that the town was named of Claudius Tiberius, the son of Nero the Tyrant. In the town are two famous cathedral churches, one called St. Sabelt, the other St. Laurence; in which church stands all the relics of Carolus Magnus, that is to say, his cloak, his hose, his doublet, his sword and crown, the sceptre and apple. It hath a very glorious gilded conduit in the market-place of St. Laurence; in which conduit is the spear that thrust our Saviour into the side, and a piece of the holy cross; the wall is called the fair wall of Norenberg, and five hundred and twenty-eight streets, a hundred and sixty wells, four great and two small clocks, six great gates, two small doors, eight stone bridges, twelve small hills, ten fair market-places, thirteen common hot-houses, ten churches; within the town are twenty wheels of water-mills, it hath a hundred and thirty-eight tall ships, two mighty town walls of hewed stone and earth, with very deep trenches: the walls have a hundred and eighty towers about them, and four fair platforms, ten apothecaries, ten doctors of the common law, fourteen doctors of physic.

From Norenberg he went to Auspurg, where at the break of the day he demanded of his spirit whereupon the town took his name. "This town," quoth he, "hath had many names; when it was first built, it was called Vindelica; secondly, it was called Zizaria, the iron-bridge; lastly, by the Emperor Octavus Augustus, it was called Augusta, and by the corruption of language, the Germans had named it Auspurg."

Now, for because that Faustus had been there before, he departed (without seeing their monuments) to Ravensberg, where his spirit certified him that the city had seven names: the first Diperia, the second Quadratis, the third Heaspolis, the fourth Reginipolis, the fifth Imbripolis, the sixth Ratisbona, the last is Ravensberg. The situation of this city pleased Faustus well, also the strong and sumptuous building; by the walls thereof runneth the river Danubius, in Dutch called Danow, into which not far from the compass of the city falleth near hand threescore other small rivers and fresh waters. Faustus also liked the sumptuous stone bridge over the same water, with the church standing thereon, the which was founded Anno 1115, the name whereof is called St. Remedian; in the town Faustus went into the cellar of an inn-holder, and let out all the beer and wine that was in the cellar.

After which feat, he returned into Mentz in Bavaria, a right princely town: the town appeared as if it were new, with great streets therein, both of breadth and length from Mentz to Salisburg, where the bishop is always resident: here saw he all the commodities that were possible to be seen, for at the hill he saw the form of a bell made in crystal, a huge thing to look upon, that every year groweth bigger and bigger, by reason of the freezing cold.

From thence he went to Vienna in Austria; the town is of great antiquity, that it is not possible to find the like. "In this town," said the spirit, "is more wine than water, for all under the town are wells, which are filled every year with wine, and all the water that they have runneth by this town; this is the river Danubius."

From thence he went into Prage, the chief city of Bohemia; this is divided into three parts, that is old Prage, little Prage, and new Prage. Little Prage is the place where the emperor's court is placed; upon an exceeding high mountain there is a castle, where are two fair churches; in the one he found a monument which might well have been a mirror for himself, and that was the sepulchre of a notable conjurer, which by his magic had so enchanted his sepulchre that whosoever set foot thereon, should be sure never to die in their beds. From this castle he came and went down over the bridge; this bridge has twenty-four arches, and in the middle of the bridge stands a very fair monument, being a cross builded of stone, and most artificially carved. From thence he went into the old Prage, the which is separated from the new Prage, with an exceeding deep ditch, and round about enclosed with a wall of brick; unto this is adjoining the Jews' town, wherein are thirteen thousand men, women, and children, all Jews; there he viewed the college and the gardens, where all manner of savage beasts are kept; and from thence he fetched a compass round about the three towns, whereat he wondered greatly to see so mighty a city stand all within the walls.

From Prage he flew into the air, and bethought himself what he might do, or which way to take; so looked round about, and behold he espied a passing fair city, which lay not far from Prage, about some four-and-twenty miles, and that was Bressaw in Silesia, in which when he was entered, it seemed to him that he had been in Paradise, so neat and clean were the streets, and so sumptuous were their buildings. In the city he saw not many wonders, except the brazen Virgin that standeth on a bridge over the water, and under which standeth a mill like a paper-mill, which Virgin is made to do execution upon those disobedient town-born children that be so wild that their parents cannot bridle them; which, when any such are found with some heinous offence, turning to the shame of their parents and kindred, they are brought to kiss the Virgin, which openeth her arms. The person then to be executed kisseth her, then doth she close her arms together with such violence, that she crusheth out the breath of the party, breaketh his bulk, and so he dieth; but being dead she openeth her arms again, and letteth the party fall into the mill, where he is stamped into small morsels, which the water carrieth away, so that no part is found again.

From Bressaw he went toward Cracovia, in the kingdom of Polionia, where he beheld the academy, the which pleased him wonderful well. In the city the king most commonly holdeth his court at a castle, in which castle are many famous monuments; there is a most sumptuous church in the same, in which standeth a silver altar gilded and set with rich stones, and over it is a covenance full of all manner of silver ornaments belonging to mass. In the church hangeth the jaw-bones of a huge dragon, that kept the rock before the castle was edified thereon: it is full of all manner of munition, and hath always victuals for three years to serve three thousand men; through the town runneth a river, called the Vessnal or Wessel, where over is a fair wooden bridge; this water divideth the town and Gasmere; in this Gasmere dwell the Jews, being a small walled town by themselves, to the number of twenty-five thousand men, women and children; within one mile of the town there is a salt mine, where they found stones of pure salt, one thousand pound, two thousand pound, or more in weight, and that in great quantity: this salt is as black as the Newcastle coal when it comes out of the mines, but being beaten to powder, it is as white as snow. The like they have four miles from thence at a town called Buckma.

From thence Faustus went to Sandentz, the Captain thereof was called Don Spicket Jordan. In this town are many monuments, as the tomb and sepulchre of Christ, in as ample a manner as that is at Jerusalem, at the proper costs of a gentleman that went thrice a year to Jerusalem from that place and returned again. Not far from that town is a new town wherein is a nunnery of the order of St. Dioclesian, into which order may none come except they be gentlewomen, and well formed, and fair to look upon, which pleased Faustus well; but having a will to travel further, and to see more wonders, mounting up towards the east, over many lands and provinces, as in Hungaria, Transilvania, Shede, Ingatz, Sardinia, and so into Constantinople, where the Turkish emperor kept his court.

This city was surnamed by Constantine, the founder thereof, being builded of very fair stone. In the same the Great Turk hath three fair palaces: the walls are strong, the pinnacles are very huge, and the streets very large. But this liked not Faustus that one man should have as many wives as he would. The sea runneth hard by the city; the wall hath eleven gates. Faustus abode there a certain time to see the manner of the Turkish emperor's service at his table, where he saw his royal service to be such that he thought if all the Christian princes should banquet together, and every one adorn the feast to the utmost, that they were not able to compare with the Turk and his table, and the rest of his country service. Wherefore it so affrighted Faustus that he vowed to be revenged on him, for his pomp, he thought, was more fit for himself; wherefore as the Turk sate at meat Faustus showed them a little apish play, for round about the privy-chamber he sent forth flashing flames of fire, insomuch that the whole company forsook their meat and fled, except only the Great Turk himself; him Faustus charmed in such sort that he could neither rise nor fall, neither could any man pull him up. With this was the hall so light as if the sun had shined in the house. Then came Faustus in form of a pope to the Great Turk, saying, "All hail, emperor, now art thou honoured, that I so worthily appear unto thee as thy Mahomet was wont to do." Hereupon he vanished, and forthwith it thundered that the whole palace shook. The Turk greatly marvelled what this should be that so vexed him, and was persuaded by the chiefest counsellors that it was Mahomet, his prophet, which had so appeared unto them; whereupon the Turk commanded them to fall down on their knees and to give him thanks for doing them so great honour as to show himself unto them. But the next day Faustus went into the castle where he kept his wives and concubines, in which castle might no man, upon the pain of death, come, except those that were appointed by the Great Turk to do him service, and they were all eunuchs, which when Faustus perceived, he said to his spirit Mephistophiles, "How likest thou this sport? Are not these fair ladies greatly to be pitied that thus consume their youth at the pleasure of one only man?"

"Why," quoth the spirit, "mayst not thou instead of the emperor embrace these fair ladies? Do what thy heart desireth herein, and I will aid thee, and what thou wishest thou shalt have it performed."

Wherefore Faustus (being before this counsel apt enough to put such matters in practice) caused a great fog to be round about the castle, both within and without, and he himself appeared amongst the ladies in all points as they used to paint Mahomet; at which sight the ladies fell on their knees and worshipped him. Then Faustus took the fairest by the hand, and when he had delighted himself sufficiently with her, he put her away, and made his spirit bring him another; and so he passed away six days, all which time the fog was so thick and so stinking that they within the house thought that they had been in hell for the time, and they without wondered thereat, in such sort that they went to their prayers, calling on their God Mahomet, and worshipping of the image; where the sixth day Faustus exalted himself into the air like a pope, in the sight of the Great Turk and all his people, and he had no sooner departed the castle but the fog vanished away. Whence presently the Turk went to his wives and concubines, demanding of them if they knew the cause why the castle was beset with a mist so long. They said it was the God Mahomet himself that had caused it, and how he was in the castle personally six days. The Turk, hearing this, fell down upon his knees and gave Mahomet thanks, desiring him to forgive him for being offended with his visiting his castle and wives these six days.

From thence Faustus went to Alker, the which before times was called Chairam, or Memphis. In this city the Egyptian Soldan holdeth his court; from thence the river Nilus hath his head and spring. It is the greatest fresh water river that is in the whole world, and always when the sun is in Cancer it overfloweth the whole land of Egypt.

Then he returned again towards the north-east, and to the town of Osen and Sebasa in Hungaria. This Osen is the closest city in Hungaria, and standing in a fertile soil, wherein groweth most excellent wine; and not far from the tower there is a well called Zipzan, the water whereof changeth iron into copper. There are mines of gold and silver and all manner of metal. We Germans call this town Osen, but in the Hungarian speech it is Start. In the town standeth a very fair castle, and very well fortified.

From thence he went to Austria, and so through Silesia into Saxony, unto the towns of Magdeburg, and Lipzig, and Lubeck. Magdeburg is a bishopric. In this city is one of the pitchers wherein Christ changed the water into wine in Cana in Galilee. At Lipzig nothing pleased Faustus so well as the great vessel in the castle made of wood, the which is bound about with twenty-four iron hoops, and every hoop weighed two hundred pound weight. You must go upon a ladder thirty steps high before you can look into it. He saw also the new churchyard where it was walled, and standeth upon a fair plain. The yard is two hundred paces long, and round about the side of the wall are good places, separated one from each other to see sepulchres in, which in the middle of the yard standeth very sumptuous; therein standeth a pulpit of white work and gold.

From thence he went to Lubeck and Jamberg, where he made no abode, but away again to Erford in Duriten, where he visited the Frescold; and from Erford he went home to Wittenburg, when he had seen and visited many a strange place, being from home one year and a half, in which time he wrought more wonders than are here declared.



How Dr. Faustus had sight of Paradise.

After this Dr. Faustus set forth again to visit the countries of Spain, Portugal, France, England, Scotland, Denmark, Sweden, Poland, Muscovy, India, Cataia, Africa, Persia, and lastly, into Barbaria, amongst the Black Moors; and in all his wandering he was desirous to visit the ancient monuments and mighty hills, amongst the rest, beholding the high hill called Theno Reise, was desirous to rest upon it. From thence he went into the Isle of Britain, wherein he was greatly delighted to see the fair water and warm baths, the divers sorts of metal, with many precious stones and divers other commodities, the which Faustus brought thence with him. He was also at the Orcades behind Scotland, where he saw the tree that bringeth forth fruit, that when it is ripe, openeth and falleth in the water, wherein engendereth a certain kind of fowl and birds. These islands are in number twenty-three, but ten of them are not habitable, the other thirteen were inhabited.

From thence he went to the hill Caucasus, which is the highest in all that tropic: it lieth near the borders of Scythia. Hereon Faustus stood and beheld many lands and kingdoms. Faustus, being on such a high hill, thought to look over all the world, and beyond, for he went to Paradise, but he durst not commune with his spirit thereof; and being on the hill Caucasus, he saw the whole land of India and Scythia, and as he looked towards the east, he saw a mighty clear streak of fire coming from heaven upon earth, even as if it had been one of the beams of the sun. He saw in the water four mighty waters springing, one had his course towards India, the second towards Egypt, the third and fourth towards Armenia. When he saw these he would needs know of his spirit what waters they were, and from whence they came?

His spirit gave him gently an answer, saying, "It is Paradise that lieth so far in the east, the garden that God himself hath planted with all manner of pleasure; and the fiery streams which thou seest is the wall or fence of the garden; but the clear light which thou seest afar of, that is the angel that hath the custody thereof with a fiery sword; and although thou thinkest thyself to be hard by, thou are yet further thither from hence than thou hast ever been. The water that thou seest divided in four parts, is the water that issueth out of the well in the middle of Paradise. The first is called Ganges or Pison, the second Gihon, the third Tygris, and the fourth Euphrates; also thou seest that he standeth under Libra and Aries, right towards the Zenith; and upon this fiery wall standeth the angel Michael with his flaming sword, to keep the tree of life, which he hath in charge. But," the spirit said to Faustus, "neither thou, nor I, nor any after us, yea, all men whatsoever, are denied to visit, or come any nearer than we be."



Of a certain Comet that appeared in Germany,
and how Dr. Faustus was desired by certain Friends of his
to know the meaning thereof.

In Germany, over the town of St. Elzeben, was seen a mighty great comet, whereat the people wondered, but Dr. Faustus being there, was asked of certain of his friends his judgment or opinion in the matter; whereupon he answered: "It falleth out often by the course and change of the sun and moon, that the sun is under the earth, and the moon above; but when the moon draweth near the change, then is the sun so strong that it taketh away the light of the moon in such sort as she is red as blood; and, on the contrary side, after they have been together, she soon taketh her light from him, and so increasing in light to the full, she will be as red as the sun was before, and change herself into divers and sundry colours, of which springeth the prodigal monster, or, as you call it, a comet, which is a figure or token appointed of God as a forewarning of his displeasure: as at one time he sendeth hunger, plague, sword, or such like, being all tokens of his judgments, which comet cometh through the conjunction of the sun and moon, and begetteth a monster, whose father is the sun, and whose mother is the moon: moon and sun."



Another Question put forth to Dr. Faustus concerning the Stars.

There was a learned man of the town of Halberstat, named N. W., who invited Dr. Faustus to his table, but falling into communication before supper was ready, they looked out of the window, and seeing many stars in the firmament, this man being a doctor of physic, and a good astrologian, said: "Dr. Faustus, I have invited you as my guest, hoping you will take in good part with me, and withal, I request you to impart some of your experience in the stars and planets;" and seeing a star fall, he said: "I pray you, Faustus, what is the condition, quality, or greatness of the stars in the firmament?"

Faustus answered him: "My friend and brother, you see that the stars that fall from heaven, when they come to the earth, they be very small to our thinking as candles, but being fixed in the firmament, they are many as great as a city, some as great as a province or dukedom, others as great as the whole earth, other some far greater than the earth twelve times, and from the height of the heavens there is scarce any earth to be seen—yea, the planets in the heavens are some so great as this land, some so great as the whole empire of Rome, some as Turkey, yea, some as great as the whole world."



How Faustus was asked a Question concerning
the Spirits that vexed Men.

"That is most true," said he to Faustus, "concerning the stars and planets; but, I pray you, in what kind or manner do the spirits use to vex men so little by day and so greatly by night?"

Dr. Faustus answered: "Because the spirits are of God forbidden the light; their dwelling is in darkness, and the clearer the sun shineth, the farther the spirits have their abiding from it, but in the night when it is dark, they have their familiarity and abiding near unto us men. For although in the night we see not the sun, yet the brightness thereof so lighted the first moving of the firmament, as it doth here on earth in the day, by which reason we are able to see the stars and planets in the night, even so the rays of the sun piercing upwards into the firmament, the spirits abandon the place, and so come near us on earth, the darkness filling our heads with heavy dreams and fond fancies, with shrieking and crying in many deformed shapes: and sometimes when men go forth without light, there falleth to them a fear, that their hairs standeth up on end, so many start in their sleep, thinking there is a spirit by them, groping or feeling for him, going round about the house in their sleep, and many such like fancies, and all this is, because in the night the spirits are more familiarly by us than we are desirous of their company, and so they carry us, blinding us, and plaguing us more than we are able to perceive."



How Dr. Faustus was asked a Question concerning
the Stars that fell from Heaven.

Dr. Faustus being demanded the cause why the stars fall from heaven, he answered: "That it is but our opinion; for if one star fall, it is the great judgment of God upon us, as a forewarning of some great thing to come: for when we think that a star falleth, it is but as a spark that issueth from a candle or flame of fire; for if it were a substantial thing, we should not so soon lose the sight of them as we do. But likewise if so be that we see as it were a stream of fire fall from the firmament, as it oft happeneth, yet are they not stars, but as it were a flame of fire vanishing, but the stars are substantial; therefore are they firm and not falling; if there fall any, it is a sign of some great matter to come, as a scourge to a people or country; and then such stars falling, and the gates of heaven are opened, and the clouds send forth floods and other plagues, to the damage of the whole land and people."



How Faustus was asked a Question concerning Thunder.

In the month of August there was over Wittenburg a mighty great lightning and thunder; and as Dr. Faustus was jesting merrily in the market-place with certain of his friends and companions, being physicians, they desired him to tell them the cause of that weather. Faustus answered: "It hath been commonly seen heretofore that, before a thunder-clap, fell a shower of rain or a gale of wind; for commonly after a wind falleth rain, and after rain a thunder-clap, such thickness come to pass when the four winds meet together in the heavens, the airy clouds are by force beaten against the fixed crystal firmament, but when the airy clouds meet with the firmament, they are congealed, and so strike, and rush against the firmament, as great pieces of ice when they meet on the water; then each other sounded in our ears, and that we call thunder, which indeed was none other than you have heard."






How the Emperor Carolus Quintus requested of Faustus
to see some of his Cunning,
whereunto he agreed.

The Emperor Charles the Fifth of that name, was personally, with the rest of the nobles and gentlemen, at the town of Intzbrack, where he kept his court, unto the which also Dr. Faustus resorted, and being there well known of divers nobles and gentlemen, he was invited in the court to meat, even in the presence of the emperor, whom when the emperor saw, he looked earnestly upon him, thinking by his looks he was some wonderful fellow; wherefore he asked one of his nobles whom he should be? He answered, that he was called Dr. Faustus. Whereupon the emperor held his peace until he had taken his repast; after which he called unto him Faustus into his privy-chamber; where being come, he said unto him: "Faustus, I have heard much of thee, that thou art excellent in the black art, and none like thee in my empire; for men say that thou hast a familiar spirit with thee, and that thou canst do what thou list. It is, therefore," said the emperor, "my request of thee that thou let me see proof of thy experience, and I vow unto thee, by the honour of my imperial crown, none evil shall happen unto thee for so doing."

Hereupon Dr. Faustus answered his Majesty, that upon those conditions he was ready in anything that he could to do his highness's command in what service he could appoint him.

"Well, hear then what I say," quoth the emperor. "Being once solitary in my house, I called to mind my elders and ancestors, how it was possible for them to attain to so great a degree and authority, yea, so high, that we, the successors of that line, are not able to come near. As for example, the great and mighty monarch of the world, Alexander Magnus, was such a pattern and spectacle to all his successors, as the chronicles make mention of, having so great riches, conquering and subduing so many kingdoms, the which I and those that follow me (I fear) shall never be able to attain unto; wherefore, Faustus, my hearty desire is that thou wouldst vouchsafe to let me see that Alexander and his paramour, the which was praised to be so fair; and I pray thee show me them in such sort that I may see their personages, shapes, gesture and apparel, as they used in their lifetime, and that here before my face, to that end that I may say, I have my long desire fulfilled, and to praise thee to be a famous man in thy art and experience."

Dr. Faustus answered: "My most excellent lord, I am ready to accomplish your request in all things, so far forth as I and my spirit are able to perform; yet your Majesty shall know that their dead bodies are not able substantially to be brought before you; but such spirits as have seen Alexander and his paramour alive shall appear unto you in manner and form as they both lived in their most flourishing time, and herewith I hope to please your imperial Majesty." Then Faustus went a little aside and spoke to his spirit, but he returned again presently, saying, "Now, if it please your Majesty, you shall see them, yet upon this condition, that you demand no question of them, nor speak unto them;" which the emperor agreed unto.

Whereupon Dr. Faustus opened the privy-chamber door, where presently entered the great and mighty emperor, Alexander Magnus, in all things to look upon as if he had been alive; in proportion, a strong set thick man, of a middle stature, black hair, and that both thick and curled, head and beard, red cheeks, and a broad face, with eyes like a basilisk; he had a complete harness furnished and engraven, exceeding rich to look upon; and so passing towards the Emperor Carolus he made a low and reverend courtesy; whereat the Emperor Carolus would have stood up to receive and greet him with the like reverence. Faustus took hold on him, and would not permit him to do it. Shortly after Alexander made humble reverence, and went out again, and coming to the door, his paramour met him. She coming in, made the emperor likewise reverence. She was clothed in blue velvet, wrought and embroidered with pearls and gold; she was also excellent fair, like blood and milk mixed, tall and slender, with a face as round as an apple, and thus passed they certain times up and down the house, which the emperor marking, said to himself, "Now I have seen two persons which my heart hath long wished to behold; and sure it cannot otherwise be," said he to himself, "but that the spirits have changed themselves into these forms, and have but deceived me," calling to mind the woman that raised the prophet Samuel. And for that the emperor should be more satisfied in the matter, he said, "I have often heard that behind in her neck she had a great wart or wen;" wherefore he took Faustus by the hand without any words, and went to see if it were able to be seen on her or not; but she perceiving that he came to her, bowed down her neck, where he saw a great wart, and hereupon she vanished, leaving the emperor and the rest well contented.



How Dr. Faustus, in the sight of the Emperor,
conjured a Pair of Hart's Horns upon a Knight's Head,
that slept out at a casement.

When Dr. Faustus had accomplished the emperor's desire in all things as he was requested, he went forth into the gallery, and leaning over a rail to look into the privy garden, he saw many of the emperor's courtiers walking and talking together, and casting his eyes now this way, now that way, he espied a knight leaning out of the window of the great hall, who was fast asleep (for in those days it was hot); but the person shall be nameless that slept, for that he was a knight, though it was all done to no little disgrace of the gentleman. It pleased Dr. Faustus, through the help of his spirit Mephistophiles, to fix on his head as he slept a huge pair of hart's horns; and as the knight awaked, thinking to pull in his head, he hit his horns against the glass, that the panes thereof flew about his ears. Think here how this good gentleman was vexed, for he could neither get backward nor forward; which, when the emperor heard, all the courtiers laughed, and came for to see what had happened. The emperor also, when he beheld the knight with so fair a head, laughed heartily thereat, and was therewith well pleased. At last Faustus made him quit of his horns again, but the knight perceived not how they came.



How the above-mentioned Knight went about
to be revenged of Dr. Faustus.

Dr. Faustus took his leave of the emperor and the rest of the courtiers, at whose departure they were sorry, giving him many rewards and gifts; but being a league and a half out of the city, he came into a wood, where he beheld the knight that he had jested with at the court with others in harness, mounted upon fair palfreys, and running with full charge towards Faustus; but he seeing their intent ran towards the bushes, and before he came among the bushes he returned again, running as it were to meet them that chased him: whereupon suddenly all the bushes were turned into horsemen, which also ran to encounter with the knight and his company, and coming to them, they enclosed the knight and the rest, and told them they must pay their ransom before they departed; whereupon the knight seeing himself in such distress, besought Faustus to be good to them, which he denied not but let them loose; yet he so charmed them, that every one, knight and other, for the space of a whole month did wear a pair of goat's horns on their brows, and every palfrey a pair of ox's horns on his head; and this was their penance appointed by Faustus.



How three young Dukes being together at Wittenburg,
to behold the University, requested Faustus
to help them at a Wish to the Town of Muncheon, in Bavaria,
there to see the Duke of Bavaria's Son's Wedding.

Three worthy young dukes, the which are not here to be named, but being students all together, at the university of Wittenburg, met on a time all together, where they fell in reasoning concerning the pomp and bravery that should be in the city of Muncheon in Bavaria, at the wedding of the duke's son, wishing themselves there but one half hour to see the manner of their jollity; to whom one replied, saying to the two other gentlemen, "If it please you to give me the hearing, I will give you good counsel, that you may see the wedding, and be here again to-night, and this is my meaning: let us send to Dr. Faustus, make him a present of some rare thing, and open our minds unto him, desiring him to assist us in our enterprise, and assure ye he will not deny to fulfil our request." Hereupon they all concluded: sent for Faustus, told him their minds, and gave him a gift, and invited him to a sumptuous banquet, wherewith Faustus was well contented, and promised to further their journey to the uttermost: and when the time was come that the three young gentlemen came into his house, commanding them that they would put on their best apparel, and adorn themselves as rich as they could. He took off his great large cloak, went into the garden that was adjoining unto his house, and set the three young dukes upon his cloak, and he himself in the midst: but he gave them in charge, that in anywise they should not at once open their mouths to speak, or make answer to any man so soon as they went out, not so much as if the Duke of Bavaria or his son should speak to them, or offer them courtesy, they should give no word or answer again; to which they all agreed.

These conditions being made, Dr. Faustus began to conjure, and on a sudden arose a mighty wind, heaving up the cloak, and so carried them away in the air, and in due time they came unto Muncheon to the duke's court; where being entered into the utmost court, the marshal had espied them, who presently went to the duke, showing his grace that all the lords and gentlemen were ready set at the table, notwithstanding there were newly come three goodly gentlemen with one servant, the which stood without in the court, wherefore the good old duke came out unto them, welcoming them, requiring what they were, and whence? But they made no answer at all; whereat the duke wondered, thinking they had been all dumb: notwithstanding for his honour's sake he took them into the court, and feasted them. Faustus notwithstanding spake to them, "If anything happen otherwise than well, when I say, Sit up, then fall you all on the cloak, and good enough."

Well, the water being brought, and that they must wash, one of the three had some manners as to desire his friend to wash first, which when Faustus heard, he said, "Sit up;" and all at once they got on the cloak, but he that spoke fell off again, the other two with Dr. Faustus were again presently at Wittenburg: but he that remained was taken and laid in prison: wherefore the other two gentlemen were very sorrowful for their friend, but Faustus comforted them, promising that on the morrow he should also be at Wittenburg.

Now all this while was the duke taken in great fear, and strucken into an exceeding dumps, wondering with himself that his hap was so hard to be left behind, and not the rest: and now being locked and watched with so many keepers: there was also certain of the guests that fell to reasoning with him to know what he was, and also what the other were that were vanished away? But the poor prisoner thought with himself, "If I open what they are, then it will be evil also with me." Wherefore all this while he gave no man any answer, so that he was there a whole day and gave no man a word: wherefore the old duke gave charge that the next morning they should rack him until he had confessed; which when the young duke heard, he began to sorrow, and to say with himself, "It may be, that to-morrow (if Dr. Faustus come not to aid me) I shall be racked and grievously tormented, insomuch that I shall be constrained by force to say more than willingly I would do."

But he comforted himself with hope that his friends would entreat Dr. Faustus about his deliverance, as also it came to pass: for that before it was day, Dr. Faustus was by him, and he conjured them that watched him into such a heavy sleep, that he with his charms made open all the locks in the prison, and therewithal brought the young duke again in safety to the rest of his fellows and friends, where they presented Faustus with a sumptuous gift, and so departed one from another.



How Dr. Faustus borrowed Money of a Jew,
and laid his own Leg in Pawn for it.

It is a common proverb in Germany that, although a conjurer have all things at command, the day will come that he shall not be worth a penny: so it is like to fall out with Dr. Faustus in promising the devil so largely; but as the devil is the author of all lies, even so he led Faustus his mind in practising things to deceive the people, and blinding them, wherein he took his whole delight, thereby to bring himself to riches. Notwithstanding, in the end he was never the richer; and although during twenty-four years of his time that the devil set him he wanted nothing, yet was he best pleased when he might deceive anybody; for out of the mightiest potentates' courts in all these countries he would send his spirit to fetch away their best cheer.

And on a time, being in his merriment, where he was banqueting with other students in an inn, thereunto resorted many Jews; which when Dr. Faustus perceived, he was minded to play a merry jest to deceive a Jew, desiring one of them to lend him some money for a time. The Jew was content, and lent Faustus threescore dollars for a month, which time being expired, the Jew came for his money and interest; but Dr. Faustus was never minded to pay the Jew again. At length the Jew coming home to his house, and calling importunately for his money, Dr. Faustus made him this answer: "Jew, I have no money, nor know I how to pay thee; but notwithstanding to the end thou mayst be contented, I will cut off a limb of my body, be it arm or leg, and the same thou shalt have in pawn for thy money; yet with this condition, that when I shall pay thee thy money again, then thou shalt give me my limb."

The Jew, that was never a friend to a Christian, thought with himself, 'This fellow is right for my purpose, that will lay his limbs in pawn for money,' and was therewith very well content. Wherefore Dr. Faustus took a saw and therewith seemed to cut off his leg, being notwithstanding nothing so. Well, he gave it to the Jew, yet upon this condition, when he got money to pay the Jew should deliver him his leg, to the end he might set it on again.

The Jew was with this matter very well pleased, took his leg and departed; and having to go far home he was somewhat weary, and by the way he thus bethought him: "What helpeth me a knave's leg? If I should carry it home it would stink and infect my house; besides, it is too hard a piece of work to set it on again: wherefore, what an ass was Faustus to lay so great a pawn for so small a sum of money! And for my part," quoth the Jew to himself, "this will never profit me anything;" and with these words he cast the leg away from him into a ditch.

All this Dr. Faustus knew right well, therefore within three days after sent for the Jew to make him payment of his sixty dollars. The Jew came, and Dr. Faustus demanded his pawn—there was his money ready for him. The Jew answered, "The pawn was not profitable nor necessary for anything, so I cast it away." But Faustus, threatening, replied, "I will have my leg again, or else one of thine for it." The Jew fell to intreat, promising him to give him what money he would ask if he would not deal strictly with him. Wherefore the Jew was constrained to give him sixty dollars more to be rid of him; and yet Faustus had his leg on, for he had but blinded the Jew.



How Dr. Faustus deceived the Horse-courser.

After this manner he deceived a horse-courser at a fair, called Pheifering: for Faustus, through his conjuring, had gotten an excellent fair horse, whereupon he rid to the fair, where he had many chapmen that offered him money; lastly, he sold him for forty dollars, and willing him that bought him, that in anywise he should not ride him over the water. But the horse-courser marvelled with himself that Faustus bade him ride over no water. "But," quoth he, "I will prove;" and forthwith he rid him into the river. Presently the horse vanished from under him, and he was left on a bottle of straw, insomuch that the man was almost drowned.

The horse-courser knew well where he lay that had sold him his horse; whereupon he went angerly to his inn, where he found Dr. Faustus fast asleep and snorting on a bed. But the horse-courser could no longer forbear him, but took him by the leg and began to pull him off the bed; but he pulled him so that he pulled his leg from his body, insomuch that the horse-courser fell backwards in the place. Then began Dr. Faustus to cry with open throat, "He hath murdered me." Hereat the horse-courser was afraid, and gave the flight, thinking no other with himself but that he had pulled his leg from his body. By this means Dr. Faustus kept his money.



How Dr. Faustus ate a Load of Hay.

Dr. Faustus being at a town in Germany called Zwickow, where he was accompanied with many doctors and masters, and going forth to walk after supper, they met with a clown that drew a load of hay.

"Good even, good fellow," said Faustus to the clown, "what shall I give thee to let me eat my bellyful of hay?" The clown thought with himself, "What a madman is this to eat hay." Thought he with himself, "Thou wilt not eat much." They agreed for three farthings he should eat as much as he could.

Wherefore Dr. Faustus began to eat, and so ravenously, that all the rest of the company fell a-laughing; blinding so the poor clown that he was sorry at his heart, for he seemed to have eaten more than half of the hay; wherefore the clown began to speak him fair, for fear he should have eaten the other half also. Faustus made as though he had pity on the clown, and went away. When the clown came in the place where he would be, he had his hay again as he had before, a full load.



How Dr. Faustus served the Twelve Students.

At Wittenburg, before Faustus's house, there was a quarrel between seven students, and five that came to part the rest, one part stronger than the other. Wherefore Dr. Faustus, seeing them to be over-matched, conjured them all blind, insomuch that the one could not see the other, and he dealt so with them, that they fought and smote at one another still; whereat all the beholders fell a-laughing; and thus they continued blind, beating one another until the people parted them and led each one to his own house, where being entered into their houses, they received their sight presently again.



How Dr. Faustus served the Drunken Clowns.

Dr. Faustus went into an inn wherein were many tables full of clowns, the which were tippling can after can of excellent wine; and to be short, they were all drunken; and as they sate, they so sang and holloaed, that one could not hear a man speak for them. This angered Dr. Faustus; wherefore he said to them that called him in, "Mark, my masters, I will show a merry jest."

The clowns continued still holloaing and singing; he conjured them that their mouths stood as wide open as it was possible for them to hold them, and never a one of them was able to close his mouth again; by-and-by the noise was gone; the clowns notwithstanding looked earnest one upon another, and knew not what was happened. One by one they went out, and so soon as they came without, they were all as well as ever they were, but none of them desired to go in any more.



How Dr. Faustus sold five Swine for six Dollars apiece.

Dr. Faustus began another jest. He made ready five fat swine the which he sold to one for six dollars apiece, upon this condition, that the swine-driver should not drive them into the water. Dr. Faustus went home again, and as the swine had fouled themselves in the mud, the swine-driver drove them into the water, where presently they were changed into so many bundles of straw, swimming upright in the water. The buyer looked wistfully upon them, and was sorry in his heart; but he knew not where to find Faustus; so he was content to let all go, and lose both money and hogs.



How Dr. Faustus played a merry Jest with the Duke of Anhalt
in his Court.

Dr. Faustus on a time went to the Duke of Anhalt, who welcomed him very courteously. This was in the month of January; where sitting at table, he perceived the duchess to be with child; and forbearing himself until the meat was taken from the table, and that they brought in the banqueting dishes, Dr. Faustus said to the duchess, "Gracious lady, I have always heard that women with child do always long for some dainties; I beseech therefore your grace, hide not your mind from me, but tell me what you desire to eat."

She answered him: "Dr. Faustus, now truly I will not hide from you what my heart doth much desire; namely, that if it were now harvest, I would eat my fill of grapes and other dainty fruit."

Dr. Faustus answered hereupon: "Gracious lady, this is a small thing for me to do, for I can do more than this." Wherefore he took a plate and set it upon one of the casements of the window, holding it forth, where incontinent he had his dish full of all manner of fruit, as red and white grapes, pears, and apples, the which came from out of strange countries. All these he presented to the duchess, saying: "Madam, I pray you vouchsafe to taste of this dainty fruit, the which came from a far country, for there the summer is not yet ended." The duchess thanked Faustus highly, and she fell to her fruit with full appetite.

The Duke of Anhalt notwithstanding could not withhold to ask Faustus with what reason there were such young fruits to be had at that time of the year?

Dr. Faustus told him: "May it please your grace to understand, that the year is divided into two circles of the whole world, that when with us it is winter, in the contrary circle it is notwithstanding summer; for in India and Saba there falleth or setteth a sun, so that it is so warm, that they have twice a year fruit; and, gracious lord, I have a swift spirit, the which can in a twinkling of an eye fulfil my desire in anything; wherefore I sent him into those countries, who hath brought this fruit as you see;" whereat the duke greatly admired.



How Dr. Faustus, through his Charms, made a great Castle
in the presence of the Duke of Anhalt.

Dr. Faustus desired the Duke of Anhalt to walk a little forth of the court with him; wherefore they went together in the field, where Dr. Faustus (through his skill) had placed a mighty castle, which when the duke saw he wondered thereat, so did the duchess and all the beholders, that on that hill which is called Rohumbuel, should on the sudden be so fair a castle. At length Dr. Faustus desired the duke and duchess to walk with him into the castle, which they denied not. This castle was so wonderful strong, having about it a great deep trench of water, the which was full of fish, and all manner of water-fowl, as swans, ducks, geese, bitterns, and such like; about the wall was five stone doors, and two other doors also; within was a great open court, wherein was enchanted all manner of wild beasts, especially such as was not to be found in Germany, as apes, bears, buffes, antelopes, and many more strange beasts; also there were harts, hinds, roebucks, and does, and wild swine; all manner of land-fowl that any man could think on, which flew from one tree to another.

After all this he set his guests to the table, being the duke and duchess, with all their train, for he had provided them a most sumptuous feast both of meat, and also of drink; for he set nine messes of meat upon the board at once. And all this must his Wagner do, to place all things on the board, the which was brought unto him by the spirit invisibly, of all things their hearts could desire, as wild-fowl, venison, and all manner of dainty fish that could be thought on. Of wine also great plenty, and of divers sorts, French wine, Cullen wine, Crabashir wine, Renish wine, Spanish wine, Hungarian wine, Waszburg wine, Malmsey, and Sack; in the whole there was one hundred cans standing round about the house.

This sumptuous banquet the duke took thankfully, and afterwards he departed homeward; but to their thinking they had neither eat nor drank, so were they blinded while they were in the castle. But as they were in their palace, they looked towards the castle, and beheld it all on a flame of fire, and all those that saw it wondered to hear so strange a noise, as if a great ordnance had been shot off. And thus the castle burned and consumed clean away; which done, Dr. Faustus returned to the duke, who gave him great thanks for showing of him so great a courtesy, and gave him a hundred dollars, and liberty to depart or stay there at his own discretion.



How Dr. Faustus, with his Company,
visited the Bishop of Salisburg's Wine-cellar.

Dr. Faustus having taken leave of the duke, he went to Wittenburg, near about Shrovetide, and being in company with certain students, Dr. Faustus was himself the God of Bacchus, who having well feasted the students before with dainty fare, after the manner of Germany, where it is counted no feast unless all the bidden guests be drunk, which Dr. Faustus intending, said, "Gentlemen, and my guests, will it please you to take a cup of wine with me in a place or cellar whereunto I will bring you?" They all said willingly, "We will;" which, when Dr. Faustus heard, he took them forth, set each of them upon a holly-wand, and so was conjured into the Bishop of Salisburg's cellar, for thereabouts grew excellent pleasant wine. There fell Faustus and his company a-drinking and swilling, not of the worst, but of the best.

And as they were merry in the cellar, came to draw drink the bishop's butler; which when he perceived so many persons there, he cried with a loud voice, "Thieves, thieves!" This spited Dr. Faustus wonderfully, wherefore he made every one of his company to sit on their holly-wand, and so vanished away. And in parting, Dr. Faustus took the butler by the hair of the head, and carried him away with them, until they came to a mighty high-lopped tree; and on the top of that huge tree he set the butler, where he remained in a most fearful perplexity.

Dr. Faustus departed to his house, where they took their valete one after another, drinking the wine that they had stolen in their bottles out of the bishop's cellar. The butler, that had held himself by the hands upon the lopped tree all the night, was almost frozen with the cold, espying the day, and seeing the tree of huge great highness, thought with himself, "It is impossible to come off this tree without peril of death." At length, espying certain clowns passing by, he cried, "For the love of God help me down!" The clowns, seeing him so high, wondered what madman would climb up so huge a tree; wherefore, as a thing most miraculous, they carried tidings to the Bishop of Salisburg. Then was there great running on every side to see him on the tree, and many devices they practised to get him down with ropes, and being demanded of the bishop how he came there, he said that he was brought thither, by the hair of the head, by certain thieves that were robbing of the wine-cellar, but what they were he knew not; "for," said he, "they had faces like men, but they wrought like devils."



How Dr. Faustus kept his Shrovetide.

There were seven students and masters that studied divinity, jurisprudentiæ, and medicinæ. All these having consented, were agreed to visit Dr. Faustus, and to celebrate Shrovetide with him; who being come to his house, he gave them their welcome, for they were his dear friends, desiring them to sit down, where he served them with a very good supper of hens, fish, and other roast, yet were they but slightly cheered; wherefore Dr. Faustus comforted his guests, excusing himself that they had stolen upon him so suddenly, that he had not leisure to provide for them so well as they were worthy. "But, my good friends," quoth he, "according to the use of our country, we must drink all this night; and so a draught of the best wine bedwards is commendable. For you know that in great potentates' courts they use at this night great feasting, the like will I do for you; for I have three great flagons of wine: the first is full of Hungarian wine, containing eight gallons; the second of Italian wine, containing seven gallons; the third containing six gallons of Spanish wine; all the which we will tipple up before it be day. Besides, we have fifteen dishes of meat, the which my spirit Mephistophiles hath fetched so far, that it was cold before he brought it, and they are all full of the daintiest things that one's heart can devise. But," saith Faustus, "I must make them hot again; and you may believe me, gentlemen, that this is no blinding of you; whereas you think that this is no natural food, verily it is as good and as pleasant as ever you eat."

And having ended his tale, he commanded his boy to lay his cloth, which done, he served them with fifteen messes of meat, having three dishes in a mess; in the which were all manner of venison, and dainty wild-fowl; and for wine there was no lack, as Italian wine, Hungarian wine, and Spanish wine; and when they were all made drunk, and that they had eaten their good cheer, they began to sing and dance until it was day. And so they departed every one to his own habitation; at whose departing, Dr. Faustus desired them to be his guests again the next day following.



How Dr. Faustus feasted his Guests on Ash Wednesday.

Upon Ash Wednesday came unto Dr. Faustus his bidden guests, the students, whom he feasted very royally, insomuch that they were all full and lusty, dancing and singing as the night before; and when the high glasses and goblets were caroused one to another, Dr. Faustus began to play them some pretty feats, insomuch that round about the hall was heard most pleasant music, and that in sundry places: in this corner a lute, in another a cornet, in another a cittern, clarigols, harp, hornpipe, in fine, all manner of music was heard there in that instant; whereat all the glasses and goblets, cups, and pots, dishes, and all that stood upon the board began to dance. Then Dr. Faustus took ten stone pots and set them down on the floor, where presently they began to dance, and to smite one against another, that the shivers flew round about the whole house, whereat the whole company fell a-laughing. Then began he another jest: he set an instrument upon the table, and caused a mighty great ape to come among them, which ape began to dance and skip, showing them merry conceits.

In this and such pastime they passed away the whole day. When night being come Dr. Faustus bid them all to supper, which they lightly agreed unto, for students in these cases are easily intreated; wherefore he promised to feast them with a banquet of fowl, and afterwards they would go all about with a mask. Then Dr. Faustus put forth a long pole out of the window, whereupon presently there came innumerable numbers of birds and wild-fowl, and so many as came had not the power to fly away again; but he took them and flung them to the students, who lightly pulled off the necks of them, and being roasted, they made their supper, which being ended, they made themselves ready for the mask.

Dr. Faustus commanded every one to put on a clean shirt over the other clothes, which being done, they looked one upon another. It seemed to each one of them that they had no heads; and so they went forth unto certain of their neighbours, at which sight the people were most wonderfully afraid; and as the use of Germany is, that wheresoever a mask entereth the good man of the house must feast him, so as these maskers were set to their banquet, they seemed again in their former shape with heads, insomuch that they were all known whom they were; and having sat and well eat and drank, Dr. Faustus made that every one had an ass's head on, with great long ears, so they fell to dancing and to drive away the time until it was midnight, and then every one departed home; and as soon as they were out of the house, each one was in his natural shape, and so they ended and went to sleep.



How Dr. Faustus the Day following was feasted
by the Students,
and of his merry Jests with them while he was in their Company.

The last bacchanalia was held on Thursday, where ensued a great snow, and Dr. Faustus was invited unto the students that were with him the day before, where they prepared an excellent banquet for him, which banquet being ended, Dr. Faustus began to play his old projects. And forthwith was in the place thirteen apes, that took hands and danced round in a ring together; then they fell to tumbling and vaulting one after another, that it was most pleasant to behold; then they leaped out of the window and vanished away. Then they set before Dr. Faustus a roasted calf's head, which one of the students cut a piece off, and laid it on Dr. Faustus his trencher, which piece was no sooner laid down but the calf's head began to cry mainly out like a man, "Murder, murder! Out, alas! what dost thou to me?" Whereat they were all amazed, but after a while, considering of Faustus's jesting tricks, they began to laugh, and they pulled asunder the calf's head and eat it up.

Whereupon Dr. Faustus asked leave to depart, but they would in nowise agree to let him go, except that he would promise to come again presently. Then Faustus, through his cunning, made a sledge, the which was drawn about the house with four fiery dragons. This was fearful for the students to behold, for they saw Faustus ride up and down, as though he would have fired and slain all them that were in the house. This sport continued until midnight, with such a noise that they could not hear one another; the heads of the students were so light that they thought themselves to be in the air all that time.



How Dr. Faustus showed the fair Helena unto the Students
upon the Sunday following.

The Sunday following came the students home to Dr. Faustus his own house, and brought their meat and drink with them. Those men were right welcome guests unto Faustus, wherefore they all fell to drinking of wine smoothly; and being merry, they began some of them to talk of beauty of women, and every one gave forth his verdict what he had seen, and what he had heard. So one amongst the rest said, "I was never so desirous of anything in this world as to have a sight (if it were possible) of fair Helena of Greece, for whom the worthy town of Troy was destroyed and razed down to the ground; therefore," saith he, "that in all men's judgments she was more than commonly fair, because that when she was stolen away from her husband there was for her recovery so great bloodshed."

Dr. Faustus answered: "For that you are all my friends, and are so desirous to see that stately pearl of Greece, fair Helena, the wife to King Menelaus, and daughter of Tyndarus and Leda, sister to Castor and Pollux, who was the fairest lady of all Greece, I will therefore bring her into your presence personally, and in the same form and attire as she used to go when she was in her chiefest flower and choicest prime of youth. The like have I done for the Emperor Carolus Magnus; at his desire I showed him Alexander the Great, and his paramour. But," said Dr. Faustus, "I charge you all that upon your perils you speak not a word, nor rise up from the table so long as she is in your presence."

And so he went out of the hall, returning presently again, after whom immediately followed the fair and beautiful Helena, whose beauty was such that the students were all amazed to see her, esteeming her rather to be an heavenly than an earthly creature. This lady appeared before them in a most rich gown of purple velvet, costly embroidered; her hair hanging down loose, as fair as the beaten gold, and of such length that it reached down to her hams; having most amorous coal-black eyes; a sweet and pleasant round face, with lips as red as any cherry; her cheeks of a rose colour, her mouth small; her neck white like a swan, tall and slender of personage; in sum, there was no imperfect place in her. She looked round about her with a rolling hawk's eye, a smiling and wanton countenance, which near hand inflamed the hearts of all the students, but that they persuaded themselves she was a spirit, which made them lightly pass away such fancies; and thus fair Helena and Faustus went out again one with another.

But the students, at Faustus entering in the hall again, requested him to let them see her again the next day, for that they will bring with them a painter to take a counterfeit, which he denied, affirming that he could not always raise up his spirit, but only at certain times. "Yet," said he, "I will give unto you her counterfeit, which shall be as good to you as if yourself should see the drawing thereof;" which they received according to his promise, but soon after lost it again. The students departed from Faustus to their several lodgings, but none of them could sleep that night for thinking of the beauty of fair Helena; therefore a man may see how the devil blindeth and inflameth the heart oftentimes, that men fall in love with harlots, from which their minds can afterwards be hardly removed.



How Dr. Faustus conjured the four Wheels from the Clown's Waggon.

Dr. Faustus was sent for to come to the Marshal of Brunswick, who was marvellously troubled with the falling sickness. Now Faustus had this quality, he seldom rid, but commonly walked afoot to ease himself when he list; and as he came near unto the town of Brunswick there overtook him a clown with four horses and an empty waggon, to whom Dr. Faustus (jestingly, to try him) said: "I pray thee, good fellow, let me ride a little to ease my weary legs;" which the buzzardly ass denied, saying that his horse was weary; and he would not let him get up.

Dr. Faustus did this but to prove this clown if there were any courtesy to be found in him if need were; but such churlishness is usually found among clowns. But he was well requited by Faustus, even with the like payment: for he said to him, "Thou dotish clown, void of all humanity, seeing thou art of so churlish a disposition, I will pay thee as thou hast deserved, for the four wheels of thy waggon thou shalt have taken from thee; let me see then how thou canst shift." Whereupon his wheels were gone, his horses fell also down to the ground as though they had been dead; whereat the clown was sore affrighted, measuring it as a just scourge of God for his sins and churlishness. Wherefore with a trembling and wailing he humbly besought Dr. Faustus to be good unto him, confessing he was worthy of it; notwithstanding if it pleased him to forgive him he would hereafter do better. Which submission made Faustus his heart to relent, answering him on this manner: "Well, do so no more; but when a poor man desireth thee, see that thou let him ride. But yet thou shalt not go altogether clear, for although thou have again thy four wheels, yet thou shalt fetch them at the four gates of the city." So he threw dust on the horses and revived them again. And the clown for his churlishness was fain to fetch his wheels, spending his time with weariness; whereas if before he had showed a little kindness he might quietly have gone about his business.



How four Jugglers cut one another's Heads off, and set them on again,
and Faustus deceived them.

Dr. Faustus came in Lent unto Frankland fair, where his spirit Mephistophiles gave him to understand that in an inn were four jugglers that cut one another's heads off: and after their cutting off sent them to the barber to be trimmed, which many people saw.

This angered Faustus, for he meant to have himself the only cook in the devil's banquet, and went to the place where they were, to beguile them, and as the jugglers were together, ready one to cut off another's head, there stood also the barber ready to trim them, and by them upon the table stood likewise a glass full of stilled waters, and he that was the chiefest among them stood by it. Thus they began; they smote off the head of the first, and presently there was a lily in the glass of distilled water, where Faustus perceived this lily as it was springing, and the chief juggler named it the tree of life. Thus dealt he with the first, making the barber wash and comb his head, and then he set it on again. Presently the lily vanished away out of the water; hereat the man had his head whole and sound again. The like did he with the other two; and as the turn and lot came to the chief juggler, that he also should be beheaded, and that this lily was most pleasant, fair, and flourishing green, they smote his head off, and when it came to be barbed, it troubled Faustus his conscience, insomuch that he could not abide to see another do anything, for he thought himself to be the principal conjurer in the world; wherefore Dr. Faustus went to the table whereat the other jugglers kept that lily, and so he took a small knife and cut off the stalk of the lily, saying to himself, "None of them shall blind Faustus." Yet no man saw Faustus to cut the lily; but when the rest of the jugglers thought to have set on their master's head, they could not; wherefore they looked on the lily, and found it bleeding. By this means the juggler was beguiled, and so died in his wickedness; yet no one thought that Dr. Faustus had done it.



How an old Man, the Neighbour of Faustus, sought to persuade him
to mend his Life, and to fall unto Repentance.

A good Christian, an honest and virtuous old man, a lover of the Holy Scriptures, who was neighbour to Dr. Faustus, when he perceived that many students had their recourse in and out unto Dr. Faustus, he suspected his evil life, wherefore like a friend he invited Dr. Faustus to supper unto his house, to which he agreed, and having entered their banquet, the old man began with these words:

"My loving friend and neighbour, Dr. Faustus, I am to desire of you a friendly and Christian request, beseeching you would vouchsafe not to be angry with me, but friendly resolve me in my doubt, and take my poor inviting in good part."

To whom Dr. Faustus answered, "My good neighbour, I pray you say your mind."

Then began the old patron to say, "My good neighbour, you know in the beginning how that you have defied God and all the host of heaven, and given your soul to the devil, wherewith you have incurred God's high displeasure, and are become from a Christian far worse than a heathen person. Oh! consider what you have done, it is not only the pleasure of the body, but the safety of the soul that you must have respect unto; of which, if you be careless, then are you cast away, and shall remain in the anger of the Almighty God. But yet it is time enough, O Faustus! if you repent, and call upon the Lord for mercy, as we have example in the Acts of the Apostles, the eighth chapter, of Simon in Samaria, who was led out of the way, affirming that he was Simon homo sanctus. This man notwithstanding in the end, was converted, after he had heard the sermon of Philip, for he was baptized and saw his sin and repented. Likewise I beseech you, good brother, Dr. Faustus, let my rude sermon be unto you a conversion, and forget thy filthy life that thou hast led, repent, ask mercy, and live: for Christ saith, 'Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will refresh you.' And in Ezekiel, 'I desire not the death of a sinner, but rather that he will convert and live.' Let my words, good brother Faustus, pierce into your adamant heart, and desire God for his Son Christ his sake to forgive you. Wherefore have you lived so long in your devilish practices, knowing that in the Old and New Testament you are forbidden, and men should not suffer any such to live, neither have any conversation with them, for it is an abomination unto the Lord, and that such persons have no part in the kingdom of God."

All this while Dr. Faustus heard him very attentively, and replied: "Father, your persuasions like me wondrous well, and I thank you with all my heart for your good will and counsel, promising you, as far as I may, to allow your discipline." Whereupon he took his leave, and being come home, he laid him very pensive on his bed, bethinking himself of the words of this old man, and in a manner began to repent that he had given his soul to the devil, intending to deny all that he had promised to Lucifer.

Continuing in these cogitations, suddenly his spirit appeared unto him, clapping him upon the head, and wrung it as though he would have pulled his head from his shoulders, saying unto him, "Thou knowest, Faustus, that thou hast given thyself, body and soul, to my lord Lucifer, and thou hast vowed thyself an enemy to God and to all men; and now thou beginnest to hearken to an old doting fool, which persuadeth thee as it were to good, when indeed it is too late, for thou art the devil's, and he hath great power presently to fetch thee. Wherefore he hath sent me unto thee to tell thee, that seeing thou hast sorrowed for that which thou hast done, begin again, and write another writing with thine own blood; if not, then will I tear thee in pieces."

Hereat Dr. Faustus was sore afraid, and said, "My Mephistophiles, I will write again what thou wilt." Then presently he sat him down, and with his own blood wrote as followeth: which writing was afterwards sent to a dear friend of Faustus, being his kinsman.



How Dr. Faustus wrote the second time with his own Blood,
and gave it to the Devil.

I, Dr. John Faustus, do acknowledge by this my deed and handwriting, that since my first writing, which is seventeen years past, I have right willingly held, and have been an utter enemy to God and all men; the which I once again confirm, and give fully and wholly myself unto the devil, both body and soul, even unto great Lucifer, and that at the end of seven years ensuing after the date hereof, he shall have to do with me according as it pleaseth him, either to lengthen or shorten my life as it pleaseth him; and hereupon I renounce all persuaders, that seek to withdraw me from my purpose by the word of God, either ghostly or bodily; and farther I will never give ear to any man, be he spiritual or temporal, that moveth any matter for the salvation of my soul. Of all this writing, and that therein contained, be witness my blood, which with my own hands I have begun and ended. Dated at Wittenburg, the 25th of July.

And presently upon the making of this writing, he became so great an enemy to the poor old man, that he sought his life by all means possible; but this good old man was strong in the Holy Ghost, that he could not be vanquished by any means; for about two days after that he had exhorted Faustus, as the poor old man lay in his bed, suddenly there was a mighty rumbling in the chamber, which he was never wont to hear, and he heard as it had been the groaning of a sow, which lasted long: whereupon the good old man began to jest and mock, and said, "Oh! what barbarian cry is this? Oh, fair bird! what foul music is this? A fair angel, that could not tarry two days in this place? Beginnest thou now to turn into a poor man's house, where thou hast no power, and wert not able to keep thine own two days?" With these and such like words the spirit departed; and when he came home, Faustus asked him how he had sped with the old man, to whom the spirit answered: "The old man was harnessed so, that he could not once lay hold upon him;" but he would not tell how the old man had mocked him, for the devils can never abide to hear of their fall. Thus doth God defend the hearts of all honest Christians that betake themselves to his tuition.



How Dr. Faustus made a Marriage between two Lovers.

In the city of Wittenburg was a student, a gallant gentleman, named N. N. This gentleman was far in love with a gentlewoman, fair and proper of personage: this gentlewoman had a knight that was a suitor unto her, and many other gentlemen, which desired her in marriage, but none could obtain her. So it was that in despair with himself, that he pined away to skin and bones.

But when he opened the matter to Dr. Faustus, he asked counsel of his spirit Mephistophiles, the which told him what to do. Hereupon Dr. Faustus went home to the gentleman, who bade him be of good cheer, for he should have his desire, for he would help him to that he wished for, and that this gentlewoman should love none other but him only: wherefore Dr. Faustus so changed the mind of the damsel by the practice he wrought, that she could do no other thing but think on him whom before she had hated, neither cared she for any man but him alone. The device was thus: Faustus commanded the gentleman that he should clothe himself in all the best apparel that he had, and that he should go unto the gentlewoman and show himself, giving him a ring, commanding him in anywise that he should dance with her before he departed; who following his counsel, went to her, and when they began to dance, they that were suitors began to take every one his lady by the hand; this gentleman took her who before had so disdained him, and in the dance he put the ring into her hand that Faustus had given him, which she no sooner touched, but she fell presently in love with him, smiling at him in the dance, and many times winking at him, rolling her eyes, and in the end she asked him if he could love her, and make her his wife. He gladly answered that he was content; whereupon they concluded, and were married by the means and help of Faustus, for which the gentleman well rewarded him.



How Dr. Faustus led his Friends into his Garden at Christmas,
and showed them many strange Sights,
in the nineteenth Year.

In December, about Christmas, in the city of Wittenburg, were many young gentlemen, which were come out of the country to be merry with their friends, amongst whom there were certain well acquainted with Dr. Faustus, who often invited them home unto his house. They being there on a certain time, after dinner he had them into his garden, where they beheld all manner of flowers and fresh herbs, and trees bearing fruit, and blossoms of all sorts; who wondered to see that his garden should so flourish at that time, as in the midst of the summer, when abroad in the streets and all the country lay full of snow and ice; wherefore this was noted of them as a thing miraculous, every one gathering and carrying away all such things as they best liked, and so departed, delighted with their sweet-smelling flowers.



How Dr. Faustus gathered together
a great Army of Men in his extremity, against
a Knight that would have Conjured him on his own Journey.

Dr. Faustus travelled towards Evzeleben, and when he was nigh half the way, he espied seven horsemen, and the chief of them he knew to be the knight with whom he had jested in the emperor's court, for he had left a great pair of hart's horns upon his head; and when the knight now saw that he had a fit opportunity to be revenged of Faustus, he ran upon him, and those that were with him, to mischief himself, intending privily to slay him; which when Faustus espied, he vanished away into a wood that was hard by them, but when the knight perceived that he was vanished away, he caused his men to stand still; but where they remained, they heard all manner of warlike instruments of music, as drums, flutes, trumpets, and such like, and a certain troop of horsemen running towards them; then they turned another way, and were also met on that side; then another way, and yet were freshly assaulted, so that which way soever they turned themselves, they were encountered, insomuch that when the knight perceived that he could escape no way, but that his enemies lay on him which way soever he offered to fly, he took good heart, and ran amongst the thickest, and thought with himself better to die than to live with so great infamy; therefore being at handy blows with them, he demanded the cause why they should so use them? But none of them would give him answer, until Dr. Faustus showed himself unto the knight; whereupon they enclosed him round, and Dr. Faustus said unto him, "Sir, yield your weapon and yourself, otherwise it will go hard with you."

The knight knew no other but that he was conjured with a host of men, whereas indeed they were none other but devils, yielded; then Faustus took away his sword, his piece, and horse, with all the rest of his companions. And farther he said unto him: "Sir, the chiefest general of our army hath commanded me to deal with you, according to the law of arms; you shall depart in peace, whither you please." And then he gave the knight a horse, after the manner, and set him thereon, so he rode, the rest went on foot, until they came to their inn where he being alighted, his page rode on his horse to the water, and presently the horse vanished away, the page being almost sunk and drowned, but he escaped; and coming home, the knight perceiving the page to be bemired, and on foot, asked where his horse was; who answered, that he was vanished away. Which when the knight heard, he said, "Of a truth this is Faustus his doing, for he serveth me now, as he did before at the court, only to make me a scorn and laughing-stock."



How Dr. Faustus used Mephistophiles, to bring him
seven of the fairest Women he could find in all the Countries
he had travelled the twenty Years.

When Dr. Faustus called to mind that his time from day to day drew nigh, he began to live a swinish and epicurish life. Wherefore he commanded his spirit Mephistophiles to bring him seven of the fairest women that he had seen in all the times of his travel; which being brought, he liked them so well that he continued with them in all manner of love, and made them to travel with him all his journeys. These women were two Netherland, one Hungarian, one Scottish, two Walloon, one Franklander. And with these sweet personages he continued long, yea, even to his last end.



How Dr. Faustus found a Mass of Money,
when he had consumed twenty-two of his Years.

To the end that the devil would make Faustus his only heir, he showed unto him where he should go and find a mighty huge mass of money, and that he should find it in an old chapel that was fallen down, half a mile distance from Wittenburg. There he bade him to dig, and he should find it, which he did; and having digged reasonable deep, he saw a mighty huge serpent, which lay on the treasure itself; the treasure itself lay like a huge light burning; but Dr. Faustus charmed the serpent, that he crept into a hole, and when he digged deeper to get up the treasure, he found nothing but coals of fire. There he also saw and heard many that were tormented; yet notwithstanding he brought away the coals, and when he was come home, it was turned into silver and gold; and after his death it was found by his servant, which was almost, by estimation, one thousand guilders.



How Dr. Faustus made the Spirit of fair Helena of Greece
his own Paramour in his twenty-third Year.

To the end that this miserable Faustus might fill the lust of his flesh and live in all manner of voluptuous pleasure, it came in his mind, after he had slept his first sleep, and in the twenty-third year past of his time, that he had a great desire to lie with fair Helena of Greece, especially her whom he had seen and shown unto the students at Wittenburg; wherefore he called his spirit Mephistophiles, commanding him to bring to him the fair Helena, which he also did.

Whereupon he fell in love with her, and made her his common companion, for she was so beautiful and delightful that he could not be an hour from her; if he should therefore have suffered death, she had stolen away his heart, and to his seeming in time she had child, whom Faustus named Justus Faustus. The child told Dr. Faustus many things which were done in foreign countries, but in the end, when Faustus lost his life, the mother and the child vanished away both together.



How Dr. Faustus made his Will, in which he named
his Servant Wagner to be his Heir.

Dr. Faustus was now in his twenty-fourth and last year, and he had a pretty stripling to his servant, which had studied also at the university of Wittenburg. This youth was very well acquainted with his knaveries and sorceries, so that he was hated as well for his own knavery as also for his master's, for no man would give him entertainment into his service because of his unhappiness but Faustus. This Wagner was so well beloved of Faustus that he used him as his son, for do what he would, his master was always therewith contented.

And then when the time drew nigh that Faustus should end, he called unto him a notary and certain masters, the which were his friends and often conversant with him, in whose presence he gave this Wagner his house and garden. Item, he gave him in ready money sixteen thousand guilders. Item, one farm. Item, a gold chain, much plate, and other household stuff, that gave he to his servant, and the rest of his time he meant to spend in inns and students' company, drinking and eating, with other jollity. And thus he finished his will at that time.



How Dr. Faustus fell in talk with his Servant, touching his Testament,
and the Covenants thereof.

Now when this will was made, Dr. Faustus called unto his servant, saying, "I have thought upon thee in my testament, for that thou hast been a trusty servant unto me, and faithful, and hast not opened my secrets. And yet farther," said he, "ask of me before I die what thou wilt, and I will give it unto thee."

His servant rashly answered, "I pray you, let me have your cunning."

To which Dr. Faustus answered, "I have given thee all my books, upon this condition, that thou wouldst not let them be common, but use them for thy own pleasure, and study carefully in them; and dost thou also desire my cunning? That thou mayst peradventure have, if thou love and peruse my books well."

"Farther," said Dr. Faustus, "seeing that thou desirest of me this request, I will resolve thee. My spirit Mephistophiles his time is out with me, and I have nought to command him, as touching thee. Yet I will help thee to another if thou like well thereof."

And within three days after he called his servant unto him, saying, "Art thou resolved? wouldst thou verily have a spirit? Then tell me in what manner or form thou wouldst have him." To whom his servant answered that he would have him in the form of an ape. Whereupon appeared presently a spirit unto him in manner and form of an ape, the which leaped about the house.

Then said Faustus, "See, there thou hast thy request; but yet he will not obey thee until I be dead, for when my spirit Mephistophiles shall fetch me away, then shall thy spirit be bound unto thee, if thou agree, and thy spirit shalt thou name Aberecock, for so he is called. But all this upon a condition, that you publish my cunning and my merry conceits, with all that I have done (when I am dead) in an history, and if thou canst not remember all, the spirit Aberecock will help thee; so shall the acts that I have done be made manifest unto the world."



How Dr. Faustus having but one Month of his appointed Time
to come, fell to Mourning and Sorrowing with himself
for his devilish exercise.

Time ran away with Faustus, as the hour-glass; for he had but one month to come of his twenty-four years, at the end whereof he had given himself to the devil, body and soul, as is before specified. Here was the first token, for he was like a taken murderer, or a thief, the which finding himself guilty in conscience before the judge has given sentence, fears every hour to die; for he was grieved, and in wailing spent the time, went talking to himself, wringing of his hands, sobbing and sighing. His flesh fell away, and he was very lean, and kept himself close; neither could he abide, see, or hear of his Mephistophiles any more.



How Dr. Faustus complained that he should in his lusty Time,
and youthful Years, die so miserably.

The sorrowful time drawing near, so troubled Dr. Faustus, that he began to write his mind, to the end he might peruse it often and not forget it, which was in manner as followeth:—"Ah! Faustus, thou sorrowful and woeful man, now must thou go to the damnable company in unquenchable fire, whereas thou mightest have had the joyful immortality of thy soul, the which now thou hast lost! Ah! gross understanding and wilful will! What seizeth upon thy limbs, other than robbing of my life? Bewail with me, my sound and healthful body, will, and soul; bewail with me, my senses, for you have had your part and pleasure as well as I. Oh! envy and disdain! How have you crept both at once upon me, and now for your sakes I must suffer all these torments! Ah! whither is pity and mercy fled? Upon what occasion hath heaven repaid me with this reward, by sufferance, to suffer me to perish? Wherefore was I created a man? The punishment I see prepared for me of myself, now must I suffer. Ah! miserable wretch! There is nothing in this world to show me comfort! Then woe is me! What helpeth my wailing?"



How Dr. Faustus bewailed to think on Hell, and the
miserable Pains therein provided for him.

Now thou Faustus, damned wretch! how happy wert thou if, as an unreasonable beast, thou mightest die with a soul? so shouldest thou not feel any more doubts; but now the devil will take thee away, both body and soul, and set thee in an unspeakable place of darkness; for although other souls have rest and peace, yet I, poor damned wretch, must suffer all manner of filthy stench, pains, cold, hunger, thirst, heat, freezing, burning, hissing, gnashing, and all the wrath and curse of God; yea, all the creatures God hath created are enemies to me. And too late I remember that my spirit Mephistophiles did once tell me there was great difference amongst the damned, for the greater the sin the greater the torment; as the twigs of a tree make greater flames than the trunk thereof, and yet the trunk continueth longer in burning, even so the more that a man is rooted in sin, the greater is his punishment. Ah! thou perpetual damned wretch! how art thou thrown into the everlasting fiery lake that shall never be quenched! there must I dwell in all manner of wailing, sorrow, misery, pain, torment, grief, howling, sighing, sobbing, running at the eyes, stinking at the nose, gnashing of teeth, snare to the ears, horror to the conscience, and shaking both of hand and foot? Ah! that I could carry the heavens upon my shoulders, so that there were time at last to quit me of this everlasting damnation. Oh! what can deliver me out of the fearful tormenting flame, the which I see prepared for me? Oh! there is no help, nor can any man deliver me; nor my wailing of sins can help me; neither is there rest for me to be found day or night! Ah! woe is me! for there is no help for me, no shield, no defence, no comfort; where is my help? Knowledge dare I not trust; and for a soul to Godwards, that have I not, for I ashame to speak unto him; if I do, no answer shall be made me; but he will hide his face from me, to the end that I should not behold the joys of the chosen. What mean I then to complain, where no help is? No, I know no hope resteth in my groanings; I had desired it would be so, and God hath said, Amen, to my misdoings; for now I must have shame to comfort me in my calamities.



Here followeth the Miserable and Lamentable End of Doctor Faustus,
by which all Christians may take an Example and Warning.

The full time of Dr. Faustus, his four-and-twenty years being come, his spirit appeared unto him, giving him his writing again, and commanding him to make preparation, for that the devil would fetch him against a certain time appointed.

Dr. Faustus mourned and sighed wonderfully, and never went to bed, nor slept a wink for sorrow.

Wherefore his spirit appeared again, comforting him, and saying: "My Faustus, be not thou so cowardly minded; for although thou lovest thy body, it is long unto the day of judgment, and thou must die at the last, although thou live many thousand years. The Turks, the Jews, and many an unchristian emperor are in the same condemnation; therefore, my Faustus, be of good courage, and be not discomforted, for the devil hath promised that thou shalt not be in pains, as the rest of the damned are." This and such like comfort he gave him, for he told him false, and against the saying of the Holy Scriptures.

Yet Dr. Faustus, that had no other expectation but to pay his debt, with his own skin, went (on the same day that his spirit said the devil would fetch him) unto his trusty and dearly beloved brethren and companions, as masters and bachelors of art, and other students more, the which did often visit him at his house in merriment; these he intreated that they would walk into the village called Rimlich, half a mile from Wittenburg, and that they would there take with him for their repast a small banquet; the which they agreed unto; so they went together, and there held their dinner in a most sumptuous manner.

Dr. Faustus with them, dissemblingly was merry, but not from the heart; wherefore he requested them that they would also take part of his rude supper, the which they agreed unto; "for," quoth he, "I must tell you what is the victualler's due;" and when they slept (for drink was in their heads) then Dr. Faustus paid the shot, and bound the students and masters to go with him into another room, for he had many wonderful matters to tell them; and when they were entered the room, as he requested, Dr. Faustus said unto them as followeth:



An Oration of Dr. Faustus to the Students.

"My trusty and well-beloved friends, the cause why I have invited you in this place is this: forasmuch as you have known me these many years, what manner of life I have lived; practising all manner of conjurations and wicked exercises, the which I obtained through the help of the devil, into whose devilish fellowship they have brought me; the which use, the art, and practice, urged by the detestable provocation of my flesh and my stiff-necked and rebellious will, with my filthy infernal thoughts, the which were ever before me, pricking me forward so earnestly that I must perforce have the consent of the devil to aid me in my devices. And to the end I might the better bring my purpose to pass, to have the devil's aid and furtherance, which I never have wanted in my actions, I have promised unto him at the end, and accomplishment of twenty-four years, both body and soul, to do therewith at his pleasure.

"This dismal day, these twenty-four years are fully expired; for night beginning, my hour-glass is at an end, the direful finishing whereof I carefully expect; for out of all doubt, this night he will fetch me to whom I have given myself in recompense of his service, body and soul, and twice confirmed writings with my proper blood.

"Now have I called you, my well-beloved lords, friends and brethren, before that fatal hour, to take my friendly farewell, to the end that my departure may not hereafter be hidden from you, beseeching you herewith (courteous loving lords and brethren) not to take in evil part anything done by me, but with friendly commendations to salute all my friends and companions wheresoever, desiring both you and them, if ever I have trespassed against your minds in anything, that you would heartily forgive me; and as for those lewd practices, the which these full twenty-four years I have followed, you shall hereafter find them in writing: and I beseech you let this my lamentable end, to the residue of your lives, be a sufficient warning, that you have God always before your eyes, praying unto him, that he will defend you from the temptation of the devil, and all his false deceits, not falling altogether from God, as I wretched and ungodly damned creature have done; having denied and defied baptism, the sacrament of Christ's body, God himself, and heavenly powers, and earthly men: yea, I have denied such a God, that desireth not to have one lost. Neither let the evil fellowship of wicked companions mislead you, as it hath done me: visit earnestly and often the church; war and strive continually against the devil, with a good and steadfast belief in God and Jesus Christ, and use your vocation and holiness.

"Lastly, to knit my troubled oration, this is my friendly request, that you would go to rest, and let nothing trouble you: also if you chance to hear any noise or rumbling about the house, be not therewith afraid, for there shall no evil happen unto you; also I pray you rise not out of your beds; but above all things, I intreat you, if hereafter you find my dead carcass, convey it unto the earth, for I die both a good and bad Christian, though I know the devil will have my body, and that would I willingly give him, so that he would leave my soul to quiet; wherefore I pray you, that you would depart to bed, and so I wish you a quiet night, which unto me, notwithstanding, shall be horrible and fearful."

This oration was made by Dr. Faustus, and that with a hearty and resolute mind, to the end he might not discomfort them; but the students wondered greatly thereat, that he was so blinded, for knavery, conjuration, and such foolish things, to give his body and soul unto the devil, for they loved him entirely, and never suspected any such thing, before he had opened his mind unto them.

Wherefore one of them said unto him, "Ah! friend Faustus, what have you done to conceal this matter so long from us? We would by the help of good divines, and the grace of God, have brought you out of this net, and have torn you out of the bondage and chains of Satan, whereas we fear now it is too late, to the utter ruin both of body and soul."

Dr. Faustus answered, "I durst never do it, although often minded to settle myself to godly people, to desire counsel and help; and once my old neighbour counselled me, that I should follow his learning, and leave all my conjurations: yet when I was minded to amend, and to follow that good counsel, then came the devil, and would have had me away, as this night he is like to do: and said, so soon as I turned again to God, he would dispatch me altogether. Thus, even thus (good gentlemen and dear friends) was I inthralled in that fanatical bond, all good desires drowned, all piety vanished, all purposes of amendment truly exiled, by the tyrannous oppression of my deadly enemy."

But when the students heard his words, they gave him counsel to do nothing else but call upon God, desiring him, for the love of his sweet Son Jesus Christ his sake, to have mercy upon him: teaching him this form of prayer: "O God! be merciful unto me, poor and miserable sinner; and enter not into judgment with me, for no flesh is able to stand before thee; although, O Lord! I must leave my sinful body unto the devil, being by him deluded, yet thou in mercy may preserve my soul."

This they repeated to him, yet he could take no hold; but even as Cain, he also said, that his sins were greater than God was able to forgive, for all his thought was on the writing: he meant he had made it too filthy in writing with his own blood.

The students and the others that were there, when they had prayed for him, they wept, and so went forth. But Faustus tarried in the hall; and when the gentlemen were laid in bed, none of them could sleep, for that they attended to hear if they might be privy of his end.

It happened that between twelve and one o'clock of midnight, there blew a mighty storm of wind against the house, as though it would have blown the foundation thereof out of its place.

Hereupon the students began to fear, and go out of their beds, but they would not stir out of the chamber, and the host of the house ran out of doors, thinking the house would fall.

The students lay near unto the hall wherein Dr. Faustus lay, and they heard a mighty noise and hissing, as if the hall had been full of snakes and adders. With that the hall door flew open wherein Dr. Faustus was. Then he began to cry for help, saying, "Murder, murder!" but it was with a half voice, and very hollow. Shortly after they heard him no more.

But when it was day, the students, that had taken no rest that night, arose and went into the hall in which they left Dr. Faustus, where notwithstanding they found not Faustus, but all the hall sprinkled with blood, the brains cleaving to the wall, for the devil had beaten him from one wall against another. In one corner lay his eyes, in another his teeth, a fearful and pitiful sight to behold.

Then began the students to wail and weep for him, and sought for his body in many places. Lastly, they came into the yard, where they found his body lying on the horse dung, most monstrously torn, and fearful to behold, for his head and all his joints were dashed to pieces. The forenamed students and masters that were at his death, obtained so much, that they buried him in the village where he was so grievously tormented.

After the which they turned to Wittenburg, and coming into the house of Faustus they found the servant of Faustus very sad, unto whom they opened all the matter, who took it exceedingly heavy. There they found this history of Dr. Faustus noted, and of him written, as is before declared, all save only his end, the which was after by the students thereunto annexed. Farther, what his servant noted thereof was made in another book. And you have heard he held by him, in his life, the spirit of fair Helena, who had by him one son, the which he named Justus Faustus: even the same day of his death they vanished away, both mother and son. The house before was so dark that scarce anybody could abide therein. The same night Dr. Faustus appeared unto his servant lively, and showed unto him many secret things which he had done and hidden in his lifetime. Likewise there were certain which saw Dr. Faustus look out of the window by night as they passed by the house.

And thus ended the whole history of Dr. Faustus, his conjuration, and other acts that he did in his life, out of which example every Christian may learn, but chiefly the stiff-necked and high-minded, may thereby learn to fear God, and to be careful of their vocation, and to be at defiance with all devilish works, as God hath most precisely forbidden. To the end we should not invite the devil as a guest, nor give him place, as that wicked Faustus hath done, for here we have a wicked example of his writing, promise, and end, that we may remember him, that we may not go astray, but take God always before our eyes, to call alone upon him, and to honour him all the days of our life, with heart and hearty prayer, and with all our strength and soul to glorify his holy name, defying the devil and all his works; to the end we may remain with Christ in all endless joy. Amen, amen. That wish I to every Christian heart, and God's name be glorified. Amen.




1: The names of four of these cities were—Ubeda, Abela, Baeza, and Granada.

2: There is another ballad which represents Gayferos, now grown to be a man, as coming in the disguise of a pilgrim to his mother's house, and slaying his stepfather with his own hand. The Countess is only satisfied as to his identity by the circumstance of the finger

El dedo bien es aqueste, aqui lo vereys faltar
La condesa que esto oyera empezole de abraçar.

3: Sansueña is the ancient name of Zaragoza.

4: The arms of Leon.

5: The arms of Castile.

6: The arms of France.

7: "Per ecclesias proclamare fecit." This may either mean that a notice was fastened to the church door, or given out from the pulpit. The last is most probable.

8: As these are probably the only verses on record of the devil's composition (at least, so well authenticated), I transcribe them for the information of the curious.

"Nexus ovem binam, per spinam traxit equinam;
 Læsus surgit equus, pendet utrumque pecus.
 Ad molendinum, pondus portabat equinum,
 Dispergendo focum, se cremat atque locum.
 Custodes aberant; singula damna ferant."



Contemporary spellings have been retained even when inconsistent. A small number of obvious typographical errors have been corrected and missing punctuation has been silently added.

The following additional changes have been made; they can be identified in the body of the text by a grey dotted underline:

let it brought before these Sees let it be brought before these Sees
Durenda Durendal
Thou till shouldst prop the feeble Thou still shouldst prop the feeble