Chap. xxiv.—Antonius made a law at Rome, that whenever a fire happened in the city a sentinel should cry out to the people to ring all the bells, and secure the gates. A certain warrior was desirous of becoming master of the city, and, apprised of this law, consulted with his companions how it should be evaded. One advised that they should enter the city peaceably, and proclaim a general feast, at which a certain liquor should be used that would set all the guests asleep. The stratagem is adopted, the city fired, the inhabitants carried off, and not one person left to comply with the emperor's edict.
Chap. xxv.—A certain knight is unjustly accused before an emperor, who, when he finds that the accusation cannot be maintained, endeavours to perplex him with intricate questions, which he is obliged to answer on pain of death. Among these are, the distance of a sigh from the heart? the number of flaggons of salt water in the sea? the depth of it? which are the most honourable and poorest professions? &c. These are all answered satisfactorily, and the knight dismissed with commendation.
Chap. xxvi.—A sick emperor sends into a foreign country for the physician Averrhoes, who cures him of his disease. This excites the envy of three other physicians, and they resolve to effect his ruin. For this purpose they deceive him into a belief that he is become leprous, and he returns with great sorrow to the emperor, to acquaint him with his misfortune. Being offered all the consolation that the emperor can afford him, he requests that he may have the use of a bath made of goat's blood. By this remedy he is restored to health; and the emperor, wondering at the suddenness with which he had been attacked, is informed by Averrhoes that three leprous persons of his own profession had terrified him, and thereby communicated their disease. They are immediately punished with death.
Chap. xxvii.—Antony, emperor of Rome, is fond of chess. Playing once at this game, he observed that when the men were replaced as usual in the bag, the king was indiscriminately confounded with the rest of the pieces. This suggests to him his mortal state, and that he himself shall be eventually blended with others in the grave. He divides his kingdom into three parts; one he gives to the king of Jerusalem, another to his nobles, and the third to the poor. He then retires to the Holy Land to end his days in peace.
Chap. xxx.—The emperor Averrhoes proclaims a tournament, and that the conquerer shall marry his daughter after his decease. Decius, a knight who excelled in arms, had two infant sons. Hearing of the proclamation, he goes one morning into a forest where a nightingale was singing very sweetly. He expresses a wish to know the meaning of the song, and an old man, suddenly appearing to him, explains it. The bird had directed him to go to the tournament, but in his way thither he is to meet with some heavy misfortune, which he is recommended to support with constancy and patience, because, eventually, his sorrow is to be turned to joy. The old man then disappears, and the nightingale flies away. Decius returns home and acquaints his wife with the adventure. She advises him to go to the tournament with herself and children; and he had no sooner finished the preparations for his journey, than his house and all his goods are consumed by fire. Not discouraged, he embarks on board a vessel, and on his arrival in the country to which he was going, the captain of the ship demands the price of his passage. The knight confesses his present inability to comply with the requisition, but promises on his return from the tournament to satisfy him fully. The captain, who had in the meantime conceived an improper passion for the lady, demands her as an hostage, refusing an offer of the children. The poor knight, finding no remedy, affectionately takes leave of his wife, and departs in great sorrow with his children. The mariner in vain attempts the accomplishment of his purpose with the lady, and after having accompanied her to some strange country, dies. She is reduced to great misery, and obliged to beg her bread from door to door. The story then returns to the knight, who, proceeding in his journey to the emperor's palace, meets with a deep piece of water, which it was necessary to cross. Not being able to carry over both the children together, he leaves one of them on the ground. On his return for his child, a lion springs from a wood, seizes the infant before he could arrive at the spot, and carries it away. He endeavours in vain to pursue the ravisher, and at length goes back to his other child. But here again his ill fortune attends him; a bear had seized it, and was in the act of carrying it to a neighbouring forest. He now gives way to his grief, and exclaims bitterly against the nightingale and her song, but resolves to proceed to the tournament. Here he has better luck, and repeatedly carries away the prize. The emperor takes him into great favour, and places him at the head of his armies. Walking one day through a certain city, he finds a precious stone of three colours. On carrying it to a lapidary, he is informed that he possesses a great treasure; that the stone has the power of making the owner completely happy, of enabling him to find what he might have lost, and of converting his poverty into wealth, and his sorrows into joy. Soon afterwards he has occasion to raise troops for the emperor's service, and in the course of the war two young soldiers eminently distinguish themselves by their valour. As they are sitting one night at supper, they make inquiries of each other respecting their parents; and from certain matters that are detailed, they are recognized by their mother, who happens to be present. This discovery soon leads to that of their father, who is known by his wife, from a particular mark in his forehead. All the parties return to their own country, and end their days happily.
The burning of the knight's house, and the manner in which he was deprived of his children, have been borrowed from the romance of Sir Isumbras.[126]
Chap. xxxi.—A law was made at Rome that the sentinels of the city should each night examine what was passing in all the houses, so that no private murders might be committed, nor any thing done whereby the city should be endangered. It happened that an old knight named Josias had married a young and beautiful woman, who, by the sweetness of her singing, attracted many persons to his house, several of whom came for the purpose of making love to her. Among these were three young men who were high in the emperor's favour. They respectively agreed with the woman for a private assignation for which she was to receive twenty marks. She discloses the matter to her husband, but not choosing to give up the money, prevails on him to consent to the murder of the gallants, and the robbing of their persons. This is accomplished, and the bodies deposited in a cellar. The woman, mindful of the new law that had been made, sends for one of the sentinels, who was her brother, pretends that her husband had killed a man in a quarrel, and prevails on him, for a reward, to dispose of the dead body. She then delivers to him the first of the young men, whom he puts into a sack and throws into the sea. On his return to the sister, she pretends to go into the cellar to draw wine, and cries out for help. When the sentinel comes to her, she tells him that the dead man is returned. At this he of course expresses much surprise, but putting the second body into his sack ties a stone round its neck and plunges it into the sea. Returning once more, the woman, with additional arts, plays the same part again. Again he is deceived, and taking away the third body, carries it into a forest, makes a fire, and consumes it. During this operation he has occasion to retire, and in the meantime a knight on horseback, who was going to a tournament, passes by, and alights to warm himself at the fire. On the other's return the knight is mistaken for the dead man, and with many bitter words thrown into the fire, horse and all. The sentinel goes back to his sister, and receives the stipulated reward. A hue and cry had now been made after the young men who were missing. The husband and wife engage in a quarrel, and the murder is of course discovered.
This story has been immediately taken from The seven wise masters, where it forms the example of the sixth master. The ground-work is, no doubt, oriental, and may be found, perhaps in its most ancient form, in The little hunchbacked taylor of The Arabian nights. It was imported into Europe very early, and fell into the hands of the lively and entertaining French minstrels, who have treated it in various ways, as may be seen in Le Grand, Fabliaux et contes, tom. iv., where it is related five times. The several imitations of it from The seven wise masters may be found in all the editions of Prince Erastus, an Italian modification of the Wise masters. It forms the substance of a well constructed and entertaining story of two friars, John and Richard, who are said to have resided at Norwich in the reign of Henry the Fifth. This is related in Heywood's History of women under the title of The faire ladie of Norwich,[127] and has crept into Blomefield's History of Norfolk in a very extraordinary manner, unaccompanied with any comment, but with the addition of the murderer's name, who is unaccountably stated to be Sir Thomas Erpingham, a well-known character.[128] In the Bodleian library there is an old English poem entitled A merry jest of Dane Hew munk of Leicestre, and how he was foure times slain and once hanged. Printed at London by J. Allde, in 4to, without date. This is probably the same story, which has certainly been borrowed from one of those related by the Norman minstrels.[129]