“My affection,” said Saffredent, “and my folly are always so great, that where I cannot command I am well content to serve.  All the ill-will of the ladies cannot subdue the love that I bear them.  But, I pray you, tell me on your conscience, do you praise this lady for such great harshness?”

“Ay,” said Oisille, “I do, for I think that she wished neither to receive love nor to bestow it.”

“If such was her mind,” said Simontault, “why did she hold out to him the hope of being loved after the seven years were past?”

“I am of your opinion,” said Longarine, “for ladies who are unwilling to love give no occasion for the continuance of the love that is offered them.”

“Perhaps,” said Nomerfide, “she loved some one else less worthy than that honourable gentleman, and so forsook the better for the worse.”

“’T faith,” said Saffredent, “I think that she meant to keep him in readiness and take him whenever she might leave the other whom for the time she loved the best.”

“I can see,” said Oisille, (4) “that the more we talk in this way, the more those who would not be harshly treated will do their utmost to speak ill of us.  Wherefore, Dagoucin, I pray you give some lady your vote.”

4 Prior to this sentence the following passage occurs in the De Thou MS.:  “When Madame Oysille saw that the men, under pretence of censuring the Queen of Castille for conduct which certainly cannot be praised either in her or in any other, continued saying so much evil of women, that the most discreet and virtuous were spared no more than the most foolish and wanton, she could endure it no longer, but spoke and said,” &c.—­L.

“I give it,” he said, “to Longarine, for I feel sure that she will tell us no melancholy story, and that she will speak the truth without sparing man or woman.”

“Since you deem me so truthful,” said Longarine, “I will be so bold as to relate an adventure that befel a very great Prince, who surpasses in worth all others of his time.  Lying and dissimulation are, indeed, things not to be employed save in cases of extreme necessity; they are foul and infamous vices, more especially in Princes and great lords, on whose lips and features truth sits more becomingly than on those of other men.  But no Prince in the world however great he be, even though he have all the honours and wealth he may desire, can escape being subject to the empire and tyranny of Love; indeed it would seem that the nobler and more high-minded the Prince, the more does Love strive to bring him under his mighty hand.  For this glorious God sets no store by common things; his majesty rejoices solely in the daily working of miracles, such as weakening the strong, strengthening the weak, giving knowledge to the simple, taking intelligence from the most learned, favouring the passions, and overthrowing the reason.  In such transformations as these does the Deity of Love delight.  Now since Princes are not exempt from