The. xi. bookes of the Golden asse conteininge the Metamorphosie of Lucius Apuleius, enterlaced with sondrie pleasaunt and delectable tales, with an excellent narration of the mariage of Cupide and Psiches, set out in the. iiii. v. and vj. bookes. Translated out of Latine into Englishe by VVilliam Adlington.

About this Item

Title
The. xi. bookes of the Golden asse conteininge the Metamorphosie of Lucius Apuleius, enterlaced with sondrie pleasaunt and delectable tales, with an excellent narration of the mariage of Cupide and Psiches, set out in the. iiii. v. and vj. bookes. Translated out of Latine into Englishe by VVilliam Adlington.
Author
Apuleius.
Publication
Imprinted at London :: In Fleetstreate, at the signe of the Oliphante, by Henry VVykes,
Anno. 1566.
Rights/Permissions

To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.

Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A20800.0001.001
Cite this Item
"The. xi. bookes of the Golden asse conteininge the Metamorphosie of Lucius Apuleius, enterlaced with sondrie pleasaunt and delectable tales, with an excellent narration of the mariage of Cupide and Psiches, set out in the. iiii. v. and vj. bookes. Translated out of Latine into Englishe by VVilliam Adlington." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A20800.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 7, 2024.

Pages

Page [unnumbered]

The first booke of Lucius Apuleius of the Golden Asse. (Book 1)

¶How Apuleius ridinge into Thessalie, fortuned to fall into companie with twoo straungers, that reasoned toge∣ther of the mighty power of Witches.

cap. 1.

AS I fortuned to take my voiage into Thessalie,* 1.1 about certaine affaires whiche I had to doo (for there mine auncestrie by my mothers side inha∣biteth, descended of the ligne of that moste excellent person Plutarche, & of Sextus the philosopher his Ne∣phew, whiche is to vs a great woorshippe and honour:* 1.2 And after that by much trauell aud great paine, I had passed ouer the high mountaines and slipperie valleis, and had ridden thorough the cloggy fallowed fieldes, perceiuinge that my horse did waxe somewhat slowe, & to the intent likewise, I might repose and strengthen my selfe, (beinge wery with ridinge) I lighted of my horse, and wipinge away the sweate from euery parte of his bodie, I vnbridled him, and walked him softly in my hande, to the ende he might pisse, and ease him selfe of his werines, and trauell: And while he wente gra∣singe freshly in the fielde (castinge his head sometimes aside as a token of reioysing and gladnes) I perceiued a litle before me twoo compaignions ridinge, & so I o∣uertakinge them made the third: And while I listened to heare their communicatiō, the one of them laughed and mocked his fellow: saiyng, leaue of I pray thée and speake no more, for I cannot abide to heare thee tell

Page [unnumbered]

such absurde & incredible lies: Which when I heard, I desired to heare some newes, and said: I pray you Mai∣sters make me partaker of your talke, that am not so curious, as desirous to know all your communication: So shall we shorten our iourney, and easely passe this high hill before vs, by merry and pleasant talke: but he that laughed before at his felowe, said againe: verely this tale is as true, as if a man would say, that by Sor∣cerie and inchauntment the floodes might be enforced to run against their course:* 1.3 the seas to be immoueable: the ayre to lacke the blowinge of windes: the Sunne to be restrained from his naturall race: the Moone to purge his skumme vpon hearbes and trées, to serue for sorceries: the Starres to be pulled from heauen, the day to be darkened, and the darke night to continew still. Then I, beinge more desirouse to heare his talke then his companions, said: I pray you, that beganne to tell your tale euen now, leaue not of so, but tell the re∣side we. And turning to the other, I saide: You perhaps that are of an obstinate minde and grosse eares, mocke and contemne those thinges whiche are reported for truth, know you not, that it is accoūted vntrew by the praue opinion of men, which either is rarely séene, sel∣dome heard, or that passeth the capacitie of mans rea∣son, whiche if it be more narrowly skanned, you shalt not onely finde it euident & plaine, but also very easie to be brought to passe.

¶How Apuleius tolde to the twoo straungers, what he sawe a Iuglar doo in Athens.

Cap. 2.

THe other night, beinge at supper with a sorte of hūgry fellowes, while I did gréedely put a great

Page 2

morsell of meate in my wouth, that was fried with the flower of chéese and barley, it cleaued so fast in the pas∣sage of my throate, and stopped my winde, in such sort that I was welnie choked. And yet at Athens before the porche there, called Peale, I sawe with these eies, a Iugler that swalowed vp a twoohand swoorde with a very keene edge, and by & by, for a litle money that we, that looked on, gaue him, he deuoured a chasing speare, with the pointe downward. And after that he had cō∣uaide the whole speare within the closure of his bodie, and brought it out againe behinde, there appeared on the toppe thereof (whiche caused vs all to maruell) a fayre boye, pleasaunt and nimble, windinge and tur∣ninge him selfe in such sorte, that you would suppose that he had neither bone nor gristle, and verely thinke that he were the naturall Serpent, crepinge & slidinge on the knotted staffe,* 1.4 whiche the God of Medicine is feigned to beare. But turninge me to him that began his Tale, I pray you ({quod} I) follow your purpose, and I alone will giue credite vnto you, and for your paines will pay your charges at the next Inne we come vnto. To whome he aunsweared, Certes sir, I thanke you for your gentle offer, and at your request, I will pro∣ceade in my tale: but first I will sweare vnto you by the light of this Sunne y shineth here, y those thinges whiche I shall tell be trewe, least when you come to the next Citie called Thessalie, you should doubte any thinge, of that whiche is rife in the mouthes of euery person, and done before the face of all men: And that I may first make relation vnto you, what, & who I am, and whither I goe, & for what purpose: know ye, that I am of Egin; trauelinge these countries about from Thessaly to Etolia, and from Etolia to Beotia, to pro∣uide

Page [unnumbered]

for hony, chéese, and other victuales to sell againe: And vnderstāding, that at Hippata (which is the prin∣cipall Citie of all Thessalie) is accustomed to be solde newe chéeses of excéedinge good taste and relishe, I for∣tuned on a day to goe thither, to make my market there, but (as it often happeneth) I came in an euill houre, for one Lupus a purueiour had bought and en∣grossed vp all the daie before, and so I was deceaued. Wherefore, towardes night (being very wery) I went to the baines to refreshe my selfe, and beholde, I fortu∣ned to espie, my compaignion Socrates sittinge vpon the grounde, couered with a torne and course mantell, who who so meigre and of so sallowe and miserable a countenance, that I scantly knew him: for fortune had brought him into such estate and calamitie, that he ve∣rely séemed as a common begger, that standeth in the stréetes to craue the beneuolence of the passers by: To∣wardes whome (how be it he was my singuler friende & familiar acquaintance,* 1.5 yet halfe in despayre) I drewe me, and said: Alas my Socrates, what meaneth this? how fareth it with thée? what crime hast thou commit∣ted? verely there is great lamentation and wéepinge made for thée at home: Thy childrē are in warde by de∣crée of the prouinciall iudge: thy wife (hauinge ended her mourninge time in lamentable wise with face and visage bloubered with teares, in suche sorte that she hath welny wept out both her eies) is cōstrained by her parentes to put out of remembrance the vnfortunate losse and lacke of thée at home, and (against her will) to take a newe husbande. And doest thou liue here as a ghost or hegge, to our great shame & ignomie? Then answeared he to me, & saide: O my friende Aristome∣nus, now perceaue I well that you are ignorant of the

Page 3

whirlinge chaunges, the vnstable forces, and slipperie inconstance of fortune: and therewithall he couered his face (euen then blushing for very shame) with his rug∣ged mātell, in so much that from his nauell downward he appeared al naked. But I (not willing to sée him any lenger in suche great miserie and calamitie) toke him by the hande and lifted him vp from the grounde: who (hauing his face couered in such sorte) let fortune ({quod} he) triumphe yet more, let her haue her sway, and finishe that whiche she hath begunne. And therwithall I put of one of my garmentes and couered him, and immedi∣atly I brought him to the baine, and caused him to be annointed, wiped, and the filthie skurfe of his body to be rubbed away, whiche done (although I weare very wery my selfe) yet I ledde the poore miser to my Inne, where he reposed his bodie vpon a bedde, and then I brought him meate and drinke, and so we talked toge∣ther: for there we might be mery & laugh at our plea∣sure, and so we weare, vntill suche time as he (fetching a pitifull sighe from the bottom of his harte, and bea∣tinge his face in miserable sorte) began to say.

¶How Socrates in his returne from Macedonie to Larissa, was spoiled and robbed, and how he fell acquainted with one Meroe, a Witche.

Cap. 3

ALas poore miser that I am, that for the onely de∣sire to sée a game of triall of weapons, am fallen into these miseries and wretched snares of mis∣fortune. For in my retorne from Macedonie, whereas I solde all my wares, and plaied the marchant by the space of tenne monethes, a litle before that I came to Larissa, I turned out of the way to vew the situation

Page [unnumbered]

of the countrey there, and beholde in the bottom of a deepe valley, I was sodenly enuironed with a compa∣ny of théeues, who robbed & spoiled me, of such thinges as I had, and yet woulde hardely suffer me to escape. But I (beinge in such extremitie) in the ende, was hap∣pely deliuered from their cruell handes: and so I for∣tuned to come to the house of an old woman that solde wine, called Meroe: who had her tongue sufficiētly in∣structed to flattery: vnto whome I opened the causes of my longe pexegrination and carefull trauell, and of nune vnlucky abuēture, and after that I had declared vnto her such thinges as then presently came to my re∣membraunce, she gentely entertained me, and made me good chere, and by and by beinge pricked by carnall desire, she brought me to her owne bedde chamber, where as I (poore miser) (the very first night of our li∣yng together) did purchase to my selfe this miserable face,* 1.6 and for her lodging I gaue her such apparell, as the théeues left to couer me withall.

Then I (vnderstanding the cause of his miserable estate) said vnto him: In faith, thou art woorthy to su∣staine the most extreme miserie and calamitie, whiche hast defiled and maculate thine òwne bodie, forsaken thy wife traitorouslie, and dishonoured thy children, parentes, and friendes, for the loue of a vile harlot and olde strumpet. When Socrates harde me raile against Meroe in such sorte, he helde vp his finger to me, and as halfe abashed, said: peace, peace, I pray you, and (lo∣kinge about least any person should here,) I pray you ({quod} he) take héede what you say against so venerable a woman as she is, lest by your intemperate tongue you ••••••che some harme. Then (with resemblance of admi∣ration) what ({quod} I) is she so excellent a person as you

Page 4

name her to be? I pray you tell me. Then answeared he, verely she is a Magicien, whiche hath power to rule the Heauens, to bringe downe the skie, to beare vp the earth, to turne the waters into hilles, and the hilles into runninge waters, to lift vp the terrestiall spirites into the ayre, & to pull the Goddes out of the heauens, to ertinguishe the Planetes, and to lighten the depe darkenes of hell. Then said I vnto Socrates, I pray thée leaue of this high and mysticall kinde of talke, and tell the matter in a more plaine and simple fashion. Then answeared he, will you heare one or twoo, or mo of her factes, which she hath done, for where as she en∣forceth, not onely the inhabitantes of ye countrey here, but also the Indians and the Aethiopes the one and the other, and also the Antictons, to loue her in moste raginge sorte, such are but trifles and chippes of her oc∣cupation, but I pray you giue eare, and I will declare of more greater matters whiche she hath done openly and before the face of all men.

¶How Meroe the witche turned diuers persons into mise∣rable Beastes.

Cap. 4.

IN faith Aristomenus, to tell you the truth, this wo∣man had a certaine louer, whome by the vtterance of one onely woorde, she turned him into a Beuer, because he loued an other woman beside her, and the reason why she transformed him into suche a beast, is, for that it is his nature, when he perceiueth the hun∣ters and houndes to drawe after him, to bite of his mē∣bers, and lay them in the way, that the houndes may be at a stoppe when they finde them, and to the intent it might so happen vnto him, (because he fancied an

Page [unnumbered]

other woman) she turned him into that kinde of shape. Semblably she chaunged one of her neighbours, being an olde man and one that solde wine, into a frogge, in that he was one of her occupation, and therefore she bare him grudge, and now the poore miser swimminge in one of his pipes of wine, and welny drowned in the dregges, doth crie and call with a hoarse voice, for his olde gestes and acquaintance that passe by. Likewise she turned one of the Aduocates of the courte (because he pleaded and spake against her in a rightfull cause) into a horned Ramme, and now the poore Rāme is be∣come and Aduocate. Moreouer she caused that the wife of a certaine louer that she had, should neuer be deliue∣red of her childe, but accordinge to the computation of all men, it is eight yéeres past since the poore woman began first to swell, and now she is increased so bigge, that she séemeth as though she would bring foorth some great Oliphant, whiche when it was knowen abroade and published thorough out al the towne, they toke in∣dignation against her, and ordeined that the next day she should most cruelly be stoned to death, whiche pur∣pose of theirs she preuented, by the vertue of her en∣chauntmentes, and as Medea (who obtained of kinge Creon but one daies respite before her departure) did burne all his house, him and his doughter, so she (by her coniurations and inuocations of sprites, whiche she v∣seth in a certaine hole in her house, as she her selfe de∣clared vnto me the next day followinge) closed all the persons of the towne so sure in their howses, and with such violence of power, that for the space of twoo daies, they coulde not come foorth, nor open their gates nor doores, nor breake downe their walles, whereby they weare enforced by mutuall consent, to crie vnto her,

Page 5

and to binde them selues (streictly) by othes, that they would neuer afterwardes molest or hurt her, & more∣ouer if any did offer her any iniurie they would be rea∣dy to defende her, wherevpon she (moued at their pro∣mises, and stirred by pitie) released all the towne. But she conueied the principall Authour of this ordinance, about midnight, with all his house, the walles, the grounde, and the foundation, into an other towne di∣stant from thense a hundred miles, situate and beinge on the toppe of a high hill, and by reason thereof desti∣tute of water, and because the edifices & houses, weare so nighe builded together, that it was not possible for the house to stande there, she threwe downe the same before the gate of the towne. Then spake I and said: O my friende Socrates, you haue declared vnto me many meruelous thinges and straunge chaunces, and moreouer stroken me with no small trouble of minde, yea rather with great feare, least the same old woman vsinge the like practise, should fortune to here all our* 1.7 communication: wherefore let vs now sléepe, and after that we haue taken our rest, let vs rise betime in the morninge and ride away from hens before day, as far as we may possible.

¶How Socrates and Aristomenus slept together in one cham∣ber, and how they were handled by Witches.

Cap. 5.

IN speakinge these woordes, and deuisinge with my selfe of our departing the next morrow, least Meroe the Witche should play by vs, as she had donē by di∣uers other persons: It fortuned that Socrates did fall a sleape, and slept very soundly, by reason of his trauell and plentie of meate and wine, wherewithall he had

Page [unnumbered]

filled him selfe. Wherefore I closed and barred fast the doores of the chamber, and put my bedde behinde the doore,* 1.8 and so laide me downe to rest, but I could in no wise sleape for the great feare which was in my harte, vntill it was about midnight, & then I began to slom∣ber: but alas, beholde sodenly the chamber doores brake open, the lockes, boltes and postes fell downe, that you would verely haue thought, that some théeues had ben presently come to haue spoiled and robbed vs. And my bedde whereon I laye beinge a trockle bed, fashioned in forme of a cradle, and one of the féete broken & rot∣ten, by violence was turned vpside downe, and I like∣wise was ouerwhelmed and couered liyng in the fame. Then perceaued I in my selfe, that certaine affectes of the minde by nature doth chaunce contrarie. For as teares oftentimes trickleth downe the chéekes of him that seeth or heareth some ioyfull newes, so I being in this fearfull perplexitie, could not forbeare laughinge, to sée how of Aristomenus I was made like vnto a snayle in his shell. And while I lay on the grounde co∣uered in this sorte, I péeped vnder the bed to sée what would happen. And behold there entered in twoo olde wemen, the one bearinge a burninge torche, and the o∣ther a sponge and a naked swoorde: And so in this ha∣bite they stoode aboute Socrates beinge fast a steape. Then she (which bare the swoorde) said vnto the other, behold sister Panthia this is my déere and my swéete harte, whiche both daie and night hath abused my wā∣ton youthfulnes. This is he (who litle regardinge my loue) dothe not onely diffame me with reprochfull woordes, but also intendeth to runne away: And I shal be forsaken by like crase as Vlisses did vse, and shall continually bewaile my solitarines as Calipso, (which

Page 6

said) she pointed to wardes me, that lay vnder the bed, and showed me to Panthia. This is he ({quod} she) which is his counseler, and perswadeth him to forsake me, and now (being at the pointe of death) he lieth prostrate on the grounde couered with his bedde, and hath séene all our dooinges, and hopeth to escape (skotfrée) from my handes, but I will cause that he shall repent him selfe too late, nay rather forthwith of his former vntēperate language, and his present curiositie. Whiche woordes when I harde, I fell into a colde sweate, and my harte trembled with feare, in so much that the bed ouer me did like wise rattle & shake. Then spake Panthia vnto Meroe, and said: Sister, let vs by and by teare him in péeces, or els tie him by the members and so cutte them of. Then Meroe (being so named because she was a ta∣uerner* 1.9 and loued well good wines) answeared: nay ra∣ther lette him liue, and burie the Corps of this poore wretche in some hole of the earth, and therewithall she turned the head of Socrates on the other side, & thrust her swoorde vp to the hiltes into the lefte parte of his necke, and receaued the bloud, that gushed out, with a potte, that no droppe thereof fell beside, which thinges I sawe with mine owne eies, and (as I thinke) to the intent she might alter nothinge that pertained to sa∣crifice, whiche she accustomed to make, she thrust her hande downe into the entrailles of his bodie, & (search∣inge aboute) at length brought foorth the harte of my miserable compaignion Socrates, who (hauinge his throte cut in such sorte) yéelded out a dolefull crie, and gaue vp the ghoste. Then Panthia stopped the wide wounde of his throate with the sponge, and said: O Sponge spronge and made of the sea, beware that thou* 1.10 passe not by the runninge riuer. This being saide, the

Page [unnumbered]

one of them moued and turned vp my bedde, and their they stridde ouer me, and slapped their buttockes vpō my face, and all bepissed me, till I was wringing wet: when this was ended, they went their waies, and the doores clsed fast, the postes stoode in their olde places, and the lockes & boltes were shut againe. But I, that lye vpon the grounde, like one without soule, naked and colde, and wringinge wette with pisse, like to one that weare more then halfe dead, yet reuiuinge my selfe, and apointed as I thinke for the gallowes, began to say: Alas what shall become of me to morrow, when my compaignion shalbe founde murdred here in the chamber?* 1.11 To whom shall I séeme to tell any similitude of truth, when as I shall tell the truth in déede? They will say if thou wearest vnable to resist the violence of the wemē, yet shouldest thou haue cried for helpe, wile thou suffer the man to be slaine before thy face and say nothinge? Or why did not they slea thée like wise? why did they spare thée that stoode by and saw them cōmitte that horrible facte? Wherefore although thou hast esca∣ped their hādes, yet thou shalt not escape ours. While I pondred these thinges with my selfe, the night passed on: And so I thought best to take my horse before day, and got forwarde in my iourney. How be it the waies were vnknowen vnto me, and thereupō I toke vp my pacquet, vnlocked and vnbarred the doores, but those good and faithfull doores which in the night did open of their owne accorde, coulde then scantly be opened with their keies. And when I was out I cried hossra, Osteler, where arte thou, open the stable doore, for I will ride away by and by.* 1.12 The Osteler liyng behinde the stable doore vpon a pallet, and halfe a sleape, what ({quod} he) doo not you know that the waies he very dange∣rous?

Page 7

what meane you to rise at this time of night? If you perhaps (giltie of some heynous crime) be werie of your life, yet thinke you not that we are suche sottes that we will die for you. Then said I, it is welny day, & moreouer what can théeues take from him that hath nothinge? doest not thou know (foole as thou arte) that* 1.13 if thou be naked, if tenne Giantes should assaile thée, they coulde not spoile or robbe thée? Whereunto the drowsie Osteler halfe a sleape, & turninge on the other side, answeared: what know I whether you haue mur∣dred your compaignion whome you brought in yester∣night or no, and now seke the meanes to escape away. O Lord, at that time I remēber, that the earth sée∣med to open, and that I sawe at hell gate the dogge Cerbe∣rus* 1.14 gaping to deuoure me, and then I verely belieued, that Meroe did not spare my throate, moued with pi∣tie, but rather cruelly pardoned me to bringe me to the gallowes. Wherfore, I returned to my chamber, and there deuised with my selfe in what sorte I should fi∣nishe my life. But when I sawe that fortune woulde minister vnto me no other instrumēt, then that whiche my bedde proffred me, I said: O bedde, O bedde, moste déere vnto me at this present, whiche hast abode and suffred with me so many miseries, iudge and arbiter of such thinges as were done here this night, whome onely I may call to witnesse for mine innocencie, ren∣der (I say) vnto me some holsome weapon to ende my life that am most willinge to die. And therewithall I pulled out a piece of the rope wherwith the bedde was corded, and tied one ende thereof about a rafter by the window, and with the other ende I made a slidinge knotte, and stoode vpon my bedde, and so put my necke into hit. Ad when I leped from the bedde, thinkinge

Page [unnumbered]

verel to strangle my selfe and so die, beholde the rope beinge olde and rotten brast in the middle, and I fell downe tomblinge vpon Socrates that lay vnder. And euē at that same very time, the Osteler came in criyng with a lowde voice, and said where are you that made such hast at midnight, & now lies wallowinge a bedde, whereupon (I know not whether it was by my fall or by the great crie of the Osteler) Socrates (as waking out of a sleape) did rise vp first and said: It is not with∣out cause that strangers doo speake euill of all suche Ostelers, for this captife in his comminge in, & with his criyng out, I thinke vnder a colour to steale away something, hath waked me out of a sound sleape. Then I rose vp ioyfull, with a mery countenaunce, saynge: Beholde good Osteler, my friende, my compaignion & my brother whome thou diddest falsely affirme to be murdred by me this night. And therewithall I embra∣sed my friende Socrates and kissed him, but he smel∣lyng the stinke of the pisse wherwith those hegges had embrued me, thrust me away and said clense thy selfe from that filthy odour, and then he began gentely to enquire how that noysome sente happened vnto me, but I (finely feigninge and couloringe the matter for the time) did breake of his talke, and toke him by the hande and saide, why tarrie we? why leese we the plea∣sure of this faire morning? Let vs goe, and so I toke vp my pacquette, and paide the charges of the house and departed: and we had not gone a mile out of the towne but it was broade day, & then I diligently looked vpon Socrates throate to sée if I could espie the place where Meroe thrust in her swoorde, but when I could not per∣ceaue any such thinge, I thought with my selfe what a madde man am I, that (beinge ouercome with wine

Page 8

yesternight) haue dreamed such terrible thinges: Be∣hold I see Socrates is sound, salue & in health, where is his woūde? where is the sponge? where is his great and newe cutte? and then I spake to him and saide: ve∣rely it is not without occasion that Phisitions of expe∣rience doth affirme, that such as fill their gorges abun∣dantly with meate and drinke shall dreame of dire and horrible sightes, for I my selfe (not tempryng mine ap∣petite yesternight from the pottes of wine) did séeme to sée this night strange and cruell visions, that euen yet I thinke my selfe sprinkled & wette with humaine bloud: whereunto Socrates laughing, made answeare and saide: Nay thou arte not wette with the bloud of men, but thou art embrued with stinkinge pisse: and verely I my selfe dreamed this night, that my throate was cutte and that I felt the paine of the wounde, and that my harte was pulled out of my bellie, and the re∣membrance thereof makes me nowe to feare, for my knées doo tremble that I can vneth goe any further, & therefore I would faine eate somewhat to strengthen and reuiue my spirites: then said I, beholde here is thy breakefast, and therwithall I opened my skrippe, that hanged vpō my shoulder, and gaue him bread & chéese, and we satte downe vnder a great plane tróe and I eate parte with him: And while I behelde him eatinge gréedely, I perceaued that he waxed meigre and pale, & that his liuely colour vaded away, in so much that (be∣inge in great feare and remembringe those terrible fu∣ries of whome I lately dreamed) the firste morsell of bread that I put in my mouth (whiche was but very small) did so sticke in my iawes that I could nether swallowe it downe nor yet yelde it vp, and moreouer the small time of our beinge together encreased my

Page [unnumbered]

feare, and what is he, that seinge his compaignion die in the high waie before his face, will not greatly lamēt and be sorie: but when that Socrates had eaten suffi∣ciently he wared very thirstie, for in déede he had wel∣nie deuoured all a whole chéese, and beholde euill for∣tune, there was behinde the plane trée a pleasant run∣ninge water as cleere as Critall, and I said vnto him: come hither Socrates to this water and drinke thy fil. And then he rose and came to the riuer, and knéeled downe vpon the side of the banke to drinke, but he had skase touched y water with his lippes, whē as behold, the woūde of his throate opened wide,* 1.15 and the sponge sodenly fell into the water and after issued out a litle remnant of bloud, and his bodie (beinge then without life) had fallen into the riuer, had not I caught him by the legge, and so pulled him vp. And after that I had lamented a good space the death of my wretched com∣paigniō, I buried him in the sandes there by the riuer. Which done, in great feare I rode through many out∣waies and deserte places, and as culpable of the death of Socrates, I forsoke my countrey, my wife, and my children, and came to Aetolia where I maried an other wife. This tale tolde Aristomenus, and his fellowe whiche before obstinately would giue no credite vnto hi, begā to say: Verely there was neuer so foolish a tale, nor a more absurde lie tolde then this: & then he spake vnto me, saiyng: Ho sir, what you are I know not, but your habite and countenāce declareth,* 1.16 that you should be some honest gentleman, doo you beléeue his tale? yea verely ({quod} I) why not? for what so euer the fates hath apointed to men, that I beléeue shall happen. For ma∣ny thingès chaunce vnto me, and vnto you, and to di∣uers others, which beinge declared vnto the ignorant

Page 9

be accompted as lies. But verely I giue credite vnto his tale, and render entier thankes vnto him in that (by the pleasant relatiō thereof) we haue quickly passed and shortned our iourney, and I thinke that my horse also was delighted with the same, and hath brought me to the gate of this Citie without any paine at all. Thus ended both our talke and iourney, for they twoo turned on the lefte hande to the next villages, and I rode into the Citie.

¶How Apuleius came to a Citie called Hipate, and was lodged in one Mils house, and brought him letters from Demea of Corinthe.

Cap. 6.

AFter that those twoo compaigniōs were depar∣ted, I entred into the Citie, where I espied an old woman, of whome I enquired whether that Citie was called Hypata, or no, who answeared yeas: Then I demaunded whether she knewe one Milo an Alderman of the Citie, whereat she laughed, and said: verely it is not without cause that Milo is called an el∣der man, and accompted as chiefe of those whiche dwel without the walles of the Citie: To whome I saide againe, I pray thée good mother doo not mocke, but tell me what manner of man he is, and where he dwelleth: Marry ({quod} she) doo not you sée those baye windowes whiche on the one side abutte to the gate of the Citie, and on the other side to the next lane, there Milo dwel∣leth, very riche both in money & substance,* 1.17 but by rea∣son of his great Auarice and insatiable couetousnes, he is euill spoken of, & he is a man that liueth all by Vsu∣rie, and lendinge his money vpon pledges. Moreouer he dwelleth in a small house, and is euer countinge his

Page [unnumbered]

money, and hath a wife that is a compaigniō of his ex∣treme miserie,* 1.18 neither kepeth he any more in his house then one onely maide who goeth appareled like vnto a begger: which when I heard, I laughed with my self, & thought: in faith my fréende Demeas hath serued me well, which hath sent me (being a straunger) vnto such a man, in whose house I shall not be afearde either of smooke or of the sent of meate, & therewithall I rode to the doore whiche was fast barred, and knocked aloude, thēn there came foorth a maide whiche saide, Ho Sira, that knockes so faste, in what kinde of sorte will you borrow money, know you not that we vse to take no gage vnlesse it be either plate or Iuelles? To whome I answeared, I pray thée maide speake more gētle & tel me whether thy maister be within or no. Yes ({quod} she) that he is, why doo you aske? Marry said I, I am come from Corinthe, and haue brought him letters frō De∣meas his fréende. Then saide the maide, I pray you tarry here till I tell him so,* 1.19 and therewithall she closed faste the doores, and went in, and after a while she re∣turned againe, & said, my master desireth you to alight and come in: and so I did, whereas I found him sitting vpon a litle bedde, goinge to supper, and his wife satte at his féete, but there was no meate vpon the table, & so (by apointment of the maide) I came to him, and salu∣ted him, & deliuered the letters whiche I brought from Demeas: whiche when he had redde, he said, verely I thanke my fréende Demeas much, in that he hath sent vnto me so woorthie a get as you are: And therewithal he commaunded his wife to sitte away, and bidde me sitte in her place, whiche when I refused, by reason of courtesie, he pulled me by the garment and willed me to sitte downe, for we haue ({quod} he) no other stoole here,

Page 10

nor no other great store of household stuffe for feare of robbinge. Then I (accordinge to his commaundement) sat downe: and he fell in further communication with me, and saide: Verely I doo coniecte by the comely fea∣ture of your bodie, and by the maidenly shame fastnes of your face, that you are a gentle man borne, as my fréende Demeas hath no lesse declared the same in his letters: Wherefore I pray you take in good parte our poore lodginge, and behold, yonder chamber is at your cōmaundement, vse it as your owne, and if you be con∣tented therewithall, you shall resemble and follow the vertuous qualities of your good father Theseus, who disdeigned not the slēder and poore cotage of Hecades. And then he called his maide, whiche was named Fo∣tis, and said: Tarry this gentlemans pacquette into the chamber, and lay it vp safelie, and bringe quickely water to washe him, and a towell to rubbe him, & other thinges necessarie: and then bringe him to the next baines, for I knowe that he is very werie of trauell. These thinges when I harde, I partly perceaued the manners of Milo, and (endeuouring to bringe my selfe further in his fauour) I saide, Sir there is no néede of any of these things, for they haue ben euery where mi∣nistred vnto me by the way, how be it I will goe vnto the baines, but my chiefest care is that my horse be wel loked too, for he brought me hither roundly, and there∣fore I pray thée Fotis take this money & by some heye and Dates for him.

¶How Apuleius goinge to bie fise mette with his com∣paignion Pithias.

Cap. 7.

WHen this was done, & all my thinges brought into the chamber, I walked towardes the

Page [unnumbered]

vaines, but first I went to the market to bie some vic∣tualles for my supper, where as I saw great plentie of fish set out to be solde: and so I cheapened parte therof, and that whiche they first helde at a hundred pence, I bought at length for twenty: whiche when I had done and was departinge away, one of mine olde compaig∣nions, and fellow at Athens, named Pithias, fortuned to passe by, and viewinge me a good space, in the ende brought me to his remembraunce, and gentely came and kissed me, saiyng: O my déere fréende Lucius, it is a great while paste sithens we twoo sawe eche other, and moreouer from the time that we departed frō our maister Vestius, I neuer harde any newes of you, I pray you Lucius tell me the cause of your peregrinatiō hither: Then I answeared and said: I will make rela∣tion thereof vnto you to morrow: but I pray you tell me, what meaneth these seruitours that follow you, & these roddes or verges whiche they beare: and this ha∣bite whiche you weare,* 1.20 like vnto a Magistrate: verely I thinke that you haue obteined your owne desire, wherof I am right gladde. Then answeared Pithias, I beare the office and rule of the clarke of the market, & therefore if you will haue any pittance for your sup∣per, speake and I will puruey it for you: Then I than∣ked him hartely, and said I had bought meate sufficiēt already. But Pithias when he espied my basket wher∣in my fishe was, toke it and shaked it, and demaun∣ded of me what I payed for all my sprottes: in faith ({quod} I) I could skase enforse the fishmonger to sell them for twentie pence, whiche when he harde, he brought me backe againe into the market, and enquired of me of whome I bought them, I showed him the olde man which satte in a corner, whome by and by (by reason of

Page 11

his office) he did greatly blame and said. Is it thus that you serue and handle straungers? and specially our fréendes? wherefore sell you this fishe so déere which is not woorth a halfpennie? Now perceaue I wel that you are an occasion to make this place, which is the princi∣pall Citie of al Thessalie to be forsaken of all men, & to reduce it into an inhabitable desert, by reason of your excessiue prices of victuales, but assure your selfe that you shall not escape without punishment, and you shal know what mine office is, and how I ought to punish such as doo offend. Then he toke my basket and cast the fishe on the grounde, and commaunded one of his ser∣geantes to treade them vnder his féete: this done he perswaded me to departe, & said that that onely shame and reproche done vnto the olde caitife did suffise him, so I went away all amased and astonied, towardes the bames (considering with my selfe, and deuisinge of the grace of my compaignion Pythias) where when I had washed and refreshed my bodie, I returned againe to Milos house both without money and meate, and so gotte into my chamber, then came Fotis immediatly vnto me, and said that her maister desired me to come to supper, but I (not ignorant of Milos abstinence) prayed that I might be perdoned, since as I thought best to ease my weary bones rather with sleape & quiet∣nes, than with meate: when Fotis had tolde this vnto Milo, he came him selfe, and toke me by the hande, and while I did modestly excuse me, I wil not ({quod} he) depart from this place, vntill suche time as you shall goo with me, and to confirme the same he bounde his woordes with an othe, whereby he enforced me to follow him and so he brought me into his chamber, where he satte him downe vpon the bedde, and demaūdes of me how

Page [unnumbered]

his fréende Demeas did, his wife his children and all his familie: & I made him answeare to euery question, specialy he enquired the causes of my peregrination & trauell, whiche when I had declared, he yet busilie de∣maunded of the state of my countrie, and of the chiefe Magistrates there, and principaly of our Lieutenant and Viceroye, who when he perceaued that I was not onely weried by trauel, but also with talke, and that I fell a sleape in the middest of my tale, and further that I spake nothinge directly or aduisedly, he suffred me to departe to my chamber. So scaped I at length from the pratlinge and hungry supper of this ranke olde man,* 1.21 and beinge compelled by sleape and not by meate (as hauinge supped onely with talke) I returned into my chamber and there be toke me to my quiet and longe desired rest.

¶Here endeth the firste booke of Lucius Apuleius.

Notes

Do you have questions about this content? Need to report a problem? Please contact us.