fection therefore, these three take more paines about God then the pope. One of the old cardinals hearing this, wondring at his wit, began to repeate over the names of the ploughswaine, the miller, and the baker. Myles, hearing him name the baker, took straight pepper in the nose,' and, starting up, threw of his cardinal's roabes, standing in his dustye cassocke, swore I by cockesbread, the baker; and he that saies to the contrary, heere stand I, Myles, the baker's man, to have the proudest cardinall of you all by the eares.

The cardinals all this while thinking it had been Montecelso, and now seeing it was Myles, the bakers man, to sooth up the matter and cloak their own ignorances, made him pope, and called him, insteade of Myles, Boniface; where hee soone forgat, being a preest, that ever he was a clarke: in so much that on a day passing to Saint Peter's Church, his maister Astatio met him, and, amongst the rest, did his holynesse great reverence; but Myles, now that was pope, could not looke so low as a poor baker; which his maister espying, as he came by, said, that the pope might heare: Non fuit sic a principio: no knave, quoth he; but thou shalt heare song anon, Sic erit in secula seculorum. Amen. Thus went the baker's man in solemne procession to S. Peter's Church, and there, after his instalement, hard masse, and so departed home to Castle Angelo. And for that he was advanst from a baker's trough to the papacie, and after grew so proud and insolent that he would not know his old maister, he sits in a miller's dustye cappe, and a baker's malking, to signifie the former pride of his life.

Next him sat Hildebrand, and he held a red hering in his hand, because he made Lent: and one pope sat with a smock sleeve about his necke, and that was he that made the imbering weekes, in honor of his faire and beautifull curtizan Imbra.

A little beyond sat Alexander, who was forst to make cleane rustie armor, that, like Sisiphus stone, had no end; for, as fast

1 Was affronted.

as he scored, the cancker stil fretted that he did, In Caucasum saxum volvere: and this was because he was a better souldier then a scholler. Hard by him was Julius, that upon the bridge threw S. Peter's keyes into Tiber, and took him to the sword of Paul; infinit other sundry offences: but such a multitude were plagued for wenching, that of them al there was not one scapt free for that fault, but Urbane the Second, that was instalde pope in the morning and was poysoned before dinner; and yet they question whether, if he had lived that night, his lemon and he had not bidden pennance in purgatorye for their sinnes.

Thus, when I sawe all these stately fellowes, as I was redy to go out of the hal, I spied sitting in a corner a bare faced youth, well featured, of a lively countenance, and a sweete looke, in Pope's attire; but on her head, instead of a myter, shee had a kercher, and in her hand a distaffe. I thought it had been Hercules, that was found playing the wanton so with Omphale, or Sardanapalus amongst his curtizans. But at last I spied it was a pope, or had been a pope; but whether man or woman, or what it was, I could not tell, till I spied written over his head in great caracters this stile:

Papa, Pater, Parens Patria, Prope Portas Petri, Pauli,

Parvum Peperit Puerum.

Then I perceived it was Pope Joane, that honest woman, that as she went a procession through the Lataran was brought to bed in the streets. I smilde at her attire, and left her to her punishment. Passing from thence, I went into a lower roome, and there were all kings and princes, and men of name, which, for that I might slander their royall tytles, I omit with silence. But thus they were all punished according to their offences, no more spared for their wealth then the poore for their povertye; unlesse they dyed highly in the popes favour; and perhaps there was some indulgence to mittigate their punishment. I left

1 Ovidii Ibis, 177.

F

them, and anon I came into a baser roome, all full of monkes and friars. What sinnes I saw there figured forth as I am ashamed to rehearse: onely Friar Onyon, the holy confessour of Florence, hee sate there naked, all annointed with hony, and miserably tormented with waspes. The cause of his punishment I learned to be this:

THE TALE OF FRIAR ONYON: WHY IN PURGATORY HE WAS TORMENTED WITH WASPES.1

There dwelled a widdowe in Florence, of good parentage and large possession, more beautifull then she was wealthy, and yet she was the richest widow in al Florence. Her name was Lisetta the onelye faulte that was found in hir was, that her beautye was more then her wit, and that such a selfe love of her excellencye had made her overweene herselfe, that she thought none fit to bee her husband in all Florence. Thus, though she were looked at for her outward perfection, yet was she laughed at for her inward follyes. Wel, howsoever others censured of her, she thought her pennye better silver then the rest, and would so strive to excell other gentlewomen in the nicenesse of gesture, that ofttimes she marde all, in so much that her coy quaintnesse was a by-woord in the citie. Every weeke, forsooth, because shee would seeme as vertuous as shee was faire, she devoutly went to Friar Onion, to be confessed of her sins. The preest, who was a lustye lubber, and a tall swaine, and nurst up lust with idlenesse, began to looke upon

1 I do not recollect meeting with this story in any other writer under exactly the same form as here, but it is most probably taken from some Italian or French Collection. The name of Friar Onion is evidently taken from the tale in Boccaccio, Giorn. vi., nov. 10. The present tale is in substance the same story as the intrigue between Nectanebo and the mother of Alexander, in the old romance, and which is reproduced under a variety of forms in other medieval tales. It is also found in the Persian tales of M. Petis de la Croix, 1809, i., 330.

her more narrowly, and to take a particular view of her perfections; with that, entring with a pearcing insight into her selfelove, thought that shee might quicklye bee overreacht in her owne conceiptes; for he thought that, if the wisest woman were wonne with faire praises and large promises, it were more easie to intrap her with the discourse of her excellencye. Therefore, he laid his plot thus: the next time Lisetta came to shrift, after she had made her confession, and had received absolution for her sinnes, Frier Onyon, looking earnestlye upon her, fetcht a far sigh, and saide: Ah, madam, if you knew as much as I know, as you are the fairest, you would thinke your selfe the happiest of all women that are alive. And why, sir, I pray you? quoth Lisetta. Ah, said Friar Onyon, it is such a secret as may not be revealed; for if I should disclose it to you, and you by any means make it manifest, there were no way with me but a most miserable death. Lisetta, as all women be desirous of novelty, was so greedy to heare what good was toward hir, that she made a thousand protestations, and uttered a thousand oathes, never to bewray what her ghostlye father should tell her in secret. Then, madam, quoth Friar Onyon, with a grave and a demure countenance, know your beauty is so excellent, and your perfection so far beyond the common course of all other women, that not only all men that see you admire you as a miracle, but the verye angels in heaven are enamored of your proportion. The angels, quoth she, is that possible? The angels, madam; and not the meanest, but the most beautifull of all the rest; for the Angell Gabriel is so far in love with you, that the other night he appeared unto me, and charged me to do his earnest commendations unto you, with promise that, if he might be assured of your secrecye, hee would at convenient times visit you, and intertaine you with such love as befitteth such holy spirits.

This tale so set a-fire Lysetta, that she not onely thanked Friar Onyon for his commendations, but counted herselfe the most fortunate of all women that shee was beloved of so blessed

a saint; and, therfore, when and where it pleased him, he should be intertayned with an honourable secrecye, as a poore dame of her calling might affoord. Friar Onyon, seeing the geere would woorke, prosecuted his purpose then subtilly. He presently fell downe on his knees before her, and desired that, for such happye newes as he had brought, she would grant him a boone. Lysetta, liberall now to perfourme any demaund, bad him aske.

Then he began thus: Madam, quoth he, for that the Angell Gabriell is a spirite, and his brightnesse such as no mortall eye can suffer, and therefore must come unto you into some humane shape, I pray you vouchsafe that my bodie may be the receptacle for him, that, while he putteth on my carkasse, my soule may enjoy the sight and pleasures of paradice; so shall you not hinder yourselfe, and doo me an unspeakeable benefite. Lysetta, seeing Friar Onyon was a lustye tall fellowe, willing in what she might to pleasure him, graunted his request verye willinglye: whereupon it was concluded that she should leave. the doore open, and about midnight the Angel Gabriell should come to visit her. Upon this resolution home went Lysetta, as merry as a pye, tricking up her bed-chamber with all braverie and rich perfumes for the intertainment of her paramour; and Friar Onyon, as busie as a bee, was making his winges and trinkets readye to playe the angell. Well, he delt so, that he agreed with an old pandor that dwelt opposite to the house, and there made himselfe readye, and at the houre appoynted went to Lisetta; where he found the doore open, and so entred up till hee came to her bedchamber, where shee sat expecting his comming. Assoone as shee sawe him with his glorious winges and his white roabes, she rose, and fell at his feet; but he lovinglye tooke her up, imbrast her, kist her, and pointed to the bed, whether the angell went after he had laid apart his abiliments, and Lisetta followed with as much speed as might be ; cætera quis nescit? Early before breake of day, Gabriell tooke his leave of his Lisetta, and went to his lodging,