In Pisa, a famous cittie of Italye, there lived a gentleman of good
linage and landes, feared as well for his wealth, as honoured
for his vertue, but indeed well thought on for both; yet the
better for his riches. This gentleman had one onelye daughter,
called Margaret, who for her beauty was liked of all, and desired
of many. But neither might their sutes nor her owne prevaile
about her father's resolution, who was determyned not to marrye
her, but to such a man as should be able in abundance to maintain
the excellency of her beauty. Divers yong gentlemen proffered
large feoffments, but in vaine, a maide shee must bee still: till
at last an olde doctor in the towne, that professed phisicke,
became a sutor to her, who was a welcome man to her father, in
that he was one of the welthiest men in all Pisa; a tall
stripling he was and a proper youth, his age about foure score,
his heade as white as milke, wherein for offence sake there was
left never a tooth. But it is no matter, what he wanted in
person he had in the purse, which the poore gentlewoman little
regarded, wishing rather to tie herself to one that might fit her
content, though they lived meanely, then to him with all the
wealth in Italye. But shee was yong, and forcst to follow her
father's direction, who, upon large covenants, was content his
daughter should marry with the doctor, and whether she likte him
or no, the match was made up, and in short time she was married.
The poore wench was bound to the stake, and had not onely an olde
impotent man, but one that was so jealous, as none might enter
into his house without suspition, nor shee doo any thing without
blame; the least glance, the smallest countenance, any smile was
a manifest instance to him that she thought of others better than
himselfe. Thus he himselfe lived in a hell, and tormented his
wife in as ill perplexitie.
At last it chaunced that a young gentleman of the citie, comming
by her house, and seeing her looke out at her window, noting her
rare and excellent proportion, fell in love with her, and that so
extreamelye, as his passions had no meanes till her favour might
mittigate his heart sicke discontent. The yong man that was
ignorant in amorous matters, and had never beene used to courte
anye gentlewoman, thought to reveale his passions to some one
freend that might given him counsaile for the winning of her
love, and thinking experience was the surest maister, on a daye
seeing the olde doctor walkinge in the churche that was
Margaret's husband, little knowing who he was, he thought this
the fittest man to whom he might discover his passions, for that
hee was olde and knew much, and was a phisition that with his
drugges might helpe him forward in his purposes, so that seeing
the olde man walke solitary, he joinde unto him, and after a
curteous salute, tolde him that he was to impart a matter of
great import to him, wherein, if hee would not onely be secrete,
but indevour to pleasure him, his pains should bee every way to
the full considered. You must imagine, gentleman, quoth Mutio,
for so was the doctor's name, that men of our profession are no
blabs, but hold their secrets in their hearts bottome, and
therefore reveale what you please, it shall not onely be
concealed, but cured, if either my art or counsaile may doo it.
Upon this, Lyonell, so was the young gentleman called, told and
discourst unto him from point to point, how he was falne in love
with a gentlewoman that was married to one of his profession,
discovered her dwelling and the house, and for that he was
unacquainted with the woman, and a man little experienced in love
matters, he required his favour to further him with his advice.
Mutio at this motion was stung to the hart, knowing it was his
wife hee was fallen in love withall, yet to conceale the matter,
and to experience his wive's chastity, and that if she plaide
false, he might be revenged on them both, he dissembled the
matter, and answered that he knewe the woman very well, and
commended her highly: but said she had a churle to her husband,
and therefore he thought shee would bee the more tractable: Trye
her, man, quoth hee, fainte harte never wonne faire lady, and if
shee will not be brought to the bent of your bowe, I will provide
such a potion as shall dispatch all to your owne content: and to
give you further instructions for oportunitie, knowe that her
husband is foorth every after-noone from three till sixe. Thus
farre I have advised you, because I pitty your passions, as my
selfe being once a lover, but now I charge thee reveale it to
none whomsoever, least it doo disparage my credit to meddle in
amorous matters.
The yong gentleman not onely promised all carefull secrecy, but
gave him harty thanks for his good counsell, promising to meete
him there the next day, and tell him what newes. Then hee left
the old man, who was almost mad for feare his wife any way should
play false; he saw by experience brave men came to besiege the
castle, and seeing it was in a woman's custodie, and had so weeke a
governor as himselfe, he doubted it would in time be delivered
up: which feare made him almost franticke, yet he drivde of the
time great torment, till he might heare from his rival. Lionello
he hastes him home and sutes him in his braverye, and goes downe
toward the house of Mutio, where he sees her at the windowe, whome
he courted with a passionate looke, with such humble salute as
shee might perceive how the gentleman was affectionate.
Margaretta, looking earnestlye upon him, and noting the
perfection of his proportion, accounted him in her eye the flower
of all Pisa, thinkte herselfe fortunate if shee might have him
for her freend, to supply the defaultes that she found in Mutio.
Sundry times that afternoone he past by her window, and he cast
not up more loving lookes, then he received gratious favours,
which did so incourage him that the next daye betweene three and
sixe hee went to her house, and knocking at the doore, desired to
speake with the mistris of the house, who hearing by her maid's
description what he was, commaunded him to come in, where she
intertained him with all courtesie.
The youth that never before had given the attempt to court a
ladye, began his exordium with a blushe; and yet went forward so
well, that hee discourst unto her howe hee loved her, and that if
it might please her to accept of his service, as of a freende
ever vowde in all dutye to bee at her commaunde, the care of her
honour should bee deerer to him than his life, and hee would be
ready to prise her discontent with his bloud at all times. The
gentlewoman was a little coye, but, before they part, they
concluded that the next daye at foure of the clock hee should
come thither and eate a pound of cherries, which was resolved on
with a succado des labras, and so with a loath to depart they
tooke their leaves. Lionello as joyfull a man as might be, hyed
him to the church to meete his olde doctor, where he found him in
his olde walke: What newes, syr, quoth Mutio, how have you sped?
Even as I can wishe, quoth Lionello, for I have been with my
mistrisse, and have found her so tractable, that I hope to make
the olde peasant, her husband, looke broadheaded by a paire of
browantlers. How deepe this strooke into Mutio's hart, let them
imagine that can conjecture what jelousie is; insomuch that the
olde doctor askte when should be the time. Marry, quoth
Lionello, tomorrow, at foure of the clocke in the afternoone, and then
Maister Doctor, quoth hee, will I dub the old squire knight of
the forked order.
Thus they past on in that, till it grew late, and then Lyonello
went home to his lodging and Mutio to his house, covering all his
sorrows with a merrye countenance, with full resolution to
revenge them both the next daye with extremitie. He past the
night as patiently as he could, and the next daye, after dinner,
awaye hee went, watching when it should bee foure of the clocke.
At the hour justly came Lyonello and was intertained with all
curtesie; but scarce had they kist, ere the maide cryed out to her
mistresse that her maister was at the doore; for he hasted,
knowing that a horne was but a litle while in grafting.
Margaret, at this alarum, was amazed, and yet for a shift chopt
Lionello into a great driefatte[FN#491] full of feathers,[FN#492]
and sat her downe close to her woorke. By that came Mutio in
blowing, and as though hee came to looke somewhat in haste,
called for the keyes of his chamber, and looked in everye place,
searching so narrowlye in everye corner of the house, that he
left not the very privie unsearcht. Seeing he could not finde
him, hee said nothing, but fayning himselfe not well at ease,
staide at home; so that poor Lionello was faine to staye in the
drifatte till the olde churle was in bed with his wife; and then
the maide let him out at a backe doore, who went home with a flea
in his eare to his lodging.
Well, the next day he went againe to meete his doctor, whome he
founde in his wonted walke. What newes? Quoth Mutio, how have
you sped? A poxe of the olde slave, quoth Lyonello; I was no
sooner in and had given my mistresse one kisse, but the jelous
asse was at the doore; the maide spied him, and cryed her
maister; so that the poore gentlewoman, for very shifte, was
faine to put me in a driefatte of feathers that stoode in an olde
chamber, and there I was faine to tarry while[FN#493] he was in
bed and a-sleepe, and then the maide let me out, and I departed.
But it is no matter; 'twas but a chaunce, and I hope to crye
quittance with him ere it be long. As how? Quoth Mutio. Marry,
thus, quoth Lionello: shee sent me woord by her maide this daye
that upon Thursday next the olde churle suppeth with a patient of
his a mile out of Pisa, and then I feare not but to
quitte[FN#494] him for all. It is well, quoth Mutio; fortune bee
your frende. I thanke you, quoth Lionello: and so, after a
little more prattle, they departed.
To bee shorte, Thursdaye came, and about sixe of the clocke,
foorth goes Mutio no further than a freendes house of his, from
whence he might descrye who went into his house; straight hee saw
Lionello enter in, and after goes hee, insomuche that hee was
scarcelye sitten downe, before the mayde cryed out againe, my
maister comes. The goodwife, that before had provided for after-
claps,[FN#495] had found out a privie place between two seelings
of a plauncher,[FN#496] and there she thrust Lionello, and her
husband came sweting. What news, quoth shee, drives you home
againe so soone, husband? Marry, sweete wife, quoth he, a
fearfull dream that I had this night, which came to my
remembrance, and that was this: me thought there was a villaine
that came secretlye into my house, with a naked poinard in his
hand, and hid himselfe, but I could not finde the place; with
that mine nose bled, and I came backe; and, by the grace of God, I
will seeke every corner in the house for the quiet of my minde.
Marry, I pray you doo, husband, quoth she. With that he lockt in
all the doors, and began to search every chamber, every hole,
every chest, every tub, the very well; he stabd every feather bed
through, and made havocke like a mad man, which made him thinke
all was in vaine; and hee began to blame his eies that thought
they saw that which they did not. Upon this he rest halfe
lunaticke, and all night he was very wakefull, that towards the
morning he fell into a dead sleepe, and then was Lionello
conveighed away.
In the morning when Mutio wakened, hee thought how by no meanes
hee should be able to take Lionello tardy: yet he laid in his
head a most dangerous plot; and that was this: Wife, quoth he, I
must the next Monday ride to Vycensa, to visit an olde patient of
mine; till my returne, which will be some ten dayes, I will have
thee staye at our little graunge house in the countrey. Marry,
very well content, quoth she. With that he kist her, and was
verye pleasant, as though he had suspected nothing, and away hee
flings to the church, where he meetes Lionello. What, sir, quoth
he, what news? is your mistresse yours in possession? No, a
plague of the olde slave, quoth hee. I think he is either a
witch or els woorkes by magick; for I can no sooner enter into
the doores, but he is at my backe, and so he was againe
yesternight; for I was not warm in my seate before the maide
cryed, my maister comes; and then was the poore soule faine to
conveigh me betweene two seelings of a chamber, in a fit place
for the purpose, wher I laught hartely to myself too see how he
sought every corner, ransakt every tub, and stabd every feather
bed, but in vaine; I was safe enough until the morning, and then,
when he was fast asleepe, I lept out. Fortune frownes on you,
quoth Mutio. I,[FN#497] but I hope, quoth Lionello, this is the
last time, and now shee will begin to smile; for on Monday next
he rides to Vicensa, and his wife lyes at the grange house a
little (out) of the towne, and there in his absence I will
revenge all forepast misfortunes. God sent it be so, quoth
Mutio; and so took his leave.
These two lovers longd for Monday, and at last it came. Early in
the morning Mutio horst himselfe and his wife, his maide and a
man, and no more, and away he rides to his grange house, wher,
after he had brok his fast, he took his leave, and away towards
Vicensa. He rode not far ere, by a false way, he returned into
a thicket, and there, with a company of cuntry peasants, lay in
an ambuscade to take the young gentleman. In the afternoon comes
Lionello galloping, and as soon as he came within sight of the
house, he sent back his horse by his boy, and went easily afoot,
and there, at the very entry, was entertained by Margaret, who
led him up the staires, and convaid him into her bedchamber,
saying he was welcome into so mean a cottage. But, quoth she,
now I hope fortun shall not envy the purity of our loves. Alas!
alas! mistris, cried the maid, heer is my maister, and 100 men
with him, with bils and staves. We are betraid, quoth Lionel,
and I am but a dead man. Feare not, quoth she, but follow me:
and straight she carried him downe into a low parlor, where
stoode an olde rotten chest full of writinges; she put him into
that, and covered him with olde papers and evidences, and went to
the gate to meet her husband.
Why, Signor Mutio, what meanes this hurly burly? quoth she. Vile
and shameless strumpet as thou art, thou shalt know by and by,
quoth he. Where is thy love? All we have watcht him and seen
him enter in. Now, quoth he, shall neither thy tub of feathers
or thy seeling serve, for perish he shall with fire, or els fall
into my handes. Doo thy worst, jealous foole, quoth she, I ask
thee no favour. With that, in a rage, he beset the house round,
and then set fire on it. Oh, in what perplexitie was poore
Lionello in that he was shut in a chest, and the fire about his
eares! and how was Margaret passionat, that knew her lover was in
such danger! Yet she made light of the matter, and, as one in a
rage, called her maid to her and said: Come on, wench, seeing thy
maister, mad with jelousie, hath set the house and al my living
on fire, I will be revengd on him: help me heer to lift this old
chest where all his writings and deeds are; let that burne first,
and as soon as I see that on fire I will walke towards my
freends, for the olde foole will be beggard, and I will refuse
him. Mutio, that knew al his obligations and statutes lay there,
puld her back and bad two of his men carry the chest into the
field, and see it were safe, himselfe standing by and seeing his
house burned downe sticke and stone. Then, quieted in his mind,
he went home with his wife and began to flatter her, thinking
assuredly that he had burnt her paramour, causing his chest to be
carried in a cart to his house in Pisa. Margaret, impatient,
went to her mother's and complained to her and her brethren of
the jealousie of her husband, who maintaned her it to be true,
and desired but a daies respite to proove it.
Wel, hee was bidden to supper the next night at her mother's, she
thinking to make her daughter and him freends againe. In the
meane time he to his woonted walk in the church, and there,
pr�ter expectationem, he found Lionello walking. Wondring at
this, he straight enquires what newes. What newes, Maister
Doctor, quoth he, and he fell in a great laughing; in faith
yesterday, I scapt a scouring, for syrrha, I went to the grange-
house, where I was appointed to come, and I was no sooner gotten
up the chamber, but the magicall villeine, her husband, beset
the house with bils and staves, and that he might be sure no
seeling nor corner should shrowde me, he set the house on fire,
and so burnt it downe to the ground. Why, quoth Mutio, and how
did you escape? Alas, quoth he, wel fare a woman's wit; she
conveighed me into an old chest full of writings, which she knew
her husband durst not burne, and so I was saved and brought to
Pisa, and yesternight, by her maide, let home to my lodging.
This, quoth he, is the pleasantest jest that ever I heard; and
upon this I have a sute to you: I am this night bidden foorth to
supper, you shall be my guest, onely I will crave so much favour,
as after supper for a pleasant sporte, to make relation what
successe you have had in your loves. For that I will not sticke,
quoth he, and so he conveyed Lionello to his mother-in-law's
house with him, and discovered to his wive's brethren who he was,
and how at supper he would disclose the whole matter; For, quoth
he, he knowes not that I am Margaret's husband. At this all the
brethren bad him welcome, and so did the mother to, and Margaret,
she was kept out of sight. Supper time being come they fell to
their victals, and Lionello was carrowst unto by Mutio, who was
very pleasant, to drawe him into a merry humour, that he might to
the ful discourse the effect and fortunes of his love. Supper
being ended, Mutio requested him to tel to the gentlemen what had
hapned between him and his mistresse. Lionello, with a smiling
countenance, began to describe his mistresse, the house and
street where she dwelt, how he fell in love with her, and how he
used the councell of this doctor, who in all his affaires was his
secretarye. Margaret heard all this with a great feare, and when
he came to the last point, she caused a cup of wine to be given
him by one of her sisters, wherein was a ring that he had given
Margaret. As he had told how he had escapt burning, and was
ready to confirme all for a troth, the gentlewoman drunke to him,
who taking the cup and seeing the ring, having a quick wit and a
reaching head, spide the fetch, and perceived that all this while
this was his lover's husband to whome hee had revealed these
escapes; at this drinking the wine and swallowing the ring into
his mouth he went forward. Gentlemen, quoth he, how like you of
my loves and my fortunes? Wel, quoth the gentlemen; I pray you
is it true? As true, quoth he, as if I would be so simple as to
reveal what I did to Margaret's husband; for, know you,
gentlemen, that I knew this Mutio to be her husband whom I
notified to be my lover; and for that he was generally known
throughout Pisa to be a jealous fool, therefore, with these tales
I brought him into paradice, which are follies of mine owne
braine; for, trust me, by the faith of a gentleman, I never spake
to the woman, was never in her companye, neyther doo I know her
if I see her. At this they all fell in a laughing at Mutio, who
was ashamde that Lionello had so scoft him. But all was well;
they were made friends, but the jest went so to his hart that he
shortly after died, and Lionello enjoyed the ladye.
Ser Giovanni's story, Roscoe observes, is "curious as having
through the medium of translation suggested the idea of those
amusing scenes in which the renowned Falstaff acquaints Master
Ford, disguised under the name of Brooke, with his progress in
the good graces of Mrs. Ford. The contrivances likewise by which
he eludes the vengeance of the jealous husband are similar to
those recounted in the novel, with the addition of throwing the
unweildy knight into the river. Dunlop says that the same story
has been translated is a collection entitled 'The Fortunate,
Deceived, and Unfortunate Lovers,' and that Shakspeare may
probably also have seen it in 'Tarlton's Newes out of
Purgatorie,' where the incidents related in the Lovers of Pisa
are given according to Straparola's story. Moli�re made a happy
use of it in his 'Ecole des Femmes,' where the humour of the
piece turns upon a young gentleman confiding his progress in the
affections of a lady to the ear of her guardian, who believed he
was on the point of espousing her himself." Two other French
plays were based upon the story, one of which was written by La
Fontaine under the title of "Le Ma�tre en Droit." Readers of
"Gil Blas" will also recollect how Don Raphael confides to
Balthazar the progress of his amour with his wife, and expresses
his vexation at the husband's unexpected return.
It is much to be regretted that nothing is known as to the date
and place of the composition of the Breslau edition of The
Nights, which alone contains this and several other tales found
in the collections of the early Italian novelists.
THE KING WHO KENNED THE QUINTESSENCE OF THINGS.--Vol. XI. p. 212.
Although we may find, as already stated, the direct source of
this tale in the forty-sixth chapter of Al-Mas'�di's "Meadows of
Gold and Mines of Gems," which was written about A.D. 943, yet
there exists a much older version--if not the original form--in a
Sanskrit collection entitled, "Vet�lapanchavinsat�," or Twenty-
five Tales of a Vampyre. This ancient work is incorporated with
the "Kath� Sarit S�gara," or Ocean of the Streams of Story,
composed in Sanskrit verse by Somadeva in the 11th century, after
a similar work, now apparently lost, entitled "Vrihat Kath�," or
Great Story, written by Gunadhya, in the 6th century.[FN#498] In
the opinion of Benfey all the Vampyre Tales are of Buddhist
extraction (some are unquestionably so), and they probably date
from before our era. As a separate work they exist, more or less
modified, in many of the Indian vernaculars; in Hind�, under the
title of "Baital Pach�s�"; in Tamil, "Vedala Kadai"; and there
are also versions in Telegu, Mahratta, and Canarese. The
following is from Professor C. H. Tawney's complete translation
of the "Kath� Sarit S�gara" (it is the 8th recital of the
Vet�la):