[287] This is a very favourite tale with the early Italian novelists. In
Dunlop's _History of Fiction_, ii. 364-5 (Second Edition), the incident
is said to have been founded on a real adventure of a French priest. In
the following extract from a highly curious pamphlet, it appears in a
different form:--
"There was a rich Burgess of Antwerp, a Mercer by his trade, who was a
Bawd to his own Wife (though it was against his will or knowledge), but
I blame him not, for I doubt hee hath many more fellowes as innocent and
ignorant as himselfe, but this was the case, his wife wearing corke
shooes, was somewhat light-heel'd, and like a foul player at Irish,
sometimes she would beare a man too many, and now and then make a wrong
Entrance. The summe was, that shee lov'd a Doctor of Physicke well, and
to attaine his company shee knew no better or safer way, than to faine
her selfe sicke, that hee under the colour of visitation might feele her
pulses, and apply such cordiall Remedies as might either ease or cure
her. In briefe, the Doctor being sent for, comes and finds the Mercer
her husband walking in his shop with a neighbour of his, where after a
leash of _Congees_, and a brace of _Baza los manus_, the Mercer told him
that his Wife is a languishing sicke woman, and withall entreats him to
take the paines to walke up the staires, and minister some comfort unto
her: Master Doctor, who knew her disease by the Symptomes, ascends up
into the Chamber to his longing patient, staying an houre with her,
applying such directions and refections, that her health was upon the
sudden almost halfe recovered; so taking his leave of her (with promise
of often visitation) he comes downe into the shope, where the guiltlesse
_Bawd_ her husband was, who demanding of the Doctor how all did above;
truely quoth hee, much better than when I came, but since I went up,
your wife hath had two such strange violent fits upon her, that it would
have grieved your very heart to have seene but part of one of
them."--Taylor's _Bawd_ (Works, 1630, ii. 94).
+ _Howe a chaplen of Louen deceyued an vsurer._ ci.
+ In the towne of Louen[288] was a chaplayne called Antonye, of whose
merye sayenges and doynges is moche talkynge. As he mette on a daye one
or two of his acqueyntaunce, he desyred them home with him to dyner: but
meate had he none, nor money. There was no remedy but to make a shefte.
Forth he goth, and in to an vserers kytchynne, with whome he was
famylier; and priueilye vnder his gowne he caryed oute the potte with
meate, that was sod[289] for the vsurers dyner. Whan he came home, he
putte oute the meate, and made the pot to be scoured bryght, and sente a
boye with the same pot to the vserer to borowe ii grotes theron, and
bade the boye take a bylle of his hande, that suche a brasse potte be
delyuered hym. The boy did as he was bydde; and with the money that he
hadde of the vsurer, he bought wine for theyr dyner. Whan the vsurer
shulde go to dyner, the potte and meate was gone, wherfore he alto
chydde his mayde. She said there came no bodye of all the daye, but syr
Antony.[290] They asked him, and he sayde he had none. At length, they
sayde in erneste, he and no man els had the pot. By my fayth (quod he),
I borowed suche a potte vpon a tyme, but I sente hit home agayne; and so
called witnes to them, and sayde: lo, howe peryllous it is to deale with
men nowe a dayes withoute wrytynge. They wolde lay thefte to my charge,
an' if I had no wrytinge of the vsurers hande; and so he shewed oute the
wrytinge. And whan they vnderstode the disceyte, there was good
laughynge.