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 quar rel, 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 mean time 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' Fableaux 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-con

1 Setting aside the tragical part of this story, it would be susceptible of much comic effect.

2 It is curious that the difference in the editions of the Wise masters, Mr. Douce calls a MODIFICATION; but the same kind of thing in the Gesta, is a distinct work.

structed 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', 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. In the Bodleian library there is an old English poem entitled, A merry jest of Dane Hew, munck of Leicestre, and how he was foure times slain, and once hanged. Printed at London, by J. Alde, in 4to. without date. This is probably the same story, which has certainly been borrowed from one of those related by the Norman minstrels."

1 P. 253, folio edit.

2 "Vol. iii. p. 647. Mr. Gough speaks of it as separately printed. Brit. Topogr. ii. 27. It is also copied in Burton's Unparalleled Varieties, p. 159. edit. 1699, 12mo. and The Gentleman's Magazine, Vol. i. p. 310. It has twice been versified ; 1st anonymously under the title of A hue and cry after the Priest, or, the Convent, a Tale, 1749, 8vo; and 2dly by Mr. Jodrell, under that of The Knight and the Friars, 1785, 4to." DOUCE. It should be added, that it has been a third time versified by Mr. Colman, in Broad Grins, &c.

CHAP. XXXII.

For this chapter I am also indebted to the Illustrations, &c.

"Folliculus, a knight, was fond of hunting and tournaments. He had an only son, for whom three nurses were provided. Next to this child he loved his falcon and his greyhound. It happened one day that he was called to a tournament, whither his wife and domestics went also, leaving the child in the cradle, the greyhound lying by him, and the falcon on his perch. A serpent that inhabited a hole near the castle, taking advantage of the profound silence that reigned, crept from his habitation and advanced towards the cradle to devour the child. The falcon, perceiving the danger, fluttered with his wings till he awoke the dog, who instantly attacked the invader, and after a fierce conflict, in which he was sorely wounded, killed him. He then lay down on the ground to lick and heal his wounds. When the nurses returned they found the cradle overturned, the child thrown out, and the ground covered with blood, as well as the dog, who, they immediately concluded, had killed the child. Terrified at the idea of meeting the anger of the parents, they deter

mined to escape, but in their flight fell in with their mistress, to whom they were compelled to relate the supposed murder of the child by the greyhound. The knight soon arrived to hear the sad story, and, maddened with fury, rushed forward to the spot. The poor wounded and faithful animal made an effort to rise, and welcome his master with his accustomed fondness; but the enraged knight received him on the point of his sword, and he fell lifeless to the ground. On examination of the cradle the infant was found alive and unhurt, and the dead serpent lying by him. The knight now perceived what had happened, lamented bitterly over his faithful dog, and blamed himself for having depended too hastily on the words of his wife. Abandoning the profession of arms, he broke his lance in three pieces, and vowed a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where he spent the rest of his days in peace.

"This tale is likewise borrowed by the compiler of the Gesta, from the Seven Wise Masters, and of oriental construction. It is originally in Pilpay's Fables, being that of The Santon and the broken Pitcher.

"There is a very extraordinary tradition in North Wales, of an incident resembling that in our story having happened to Prince Llewellyn about the year