kings.  So you can laugh as loudly at those muckworms of philosophy who go about saying, “Our fathers were better,” as at the good, philanthropical old bunglers who pretend that mankind is on the right road to perfection.  These are old blind bats, who observe neither the plumage of oysters nor the shells of birds, which change no more than our ways.  Hip, hip, huzzah! then, make merry while you’re young.  Keep your throats wet and your eyes dry, since a hundredweight of melancholy is worth less than an ounce of jollity.  The wrong doings of this lord, lover of Queen Isabella, whom he doted upon, brought about pleasant adventures, since he was a great wit, of Alcibaidescal nature, and a chip off the old block.  It was he who first conceived the idea of a relay of sweethearts, so that when he went from Paris to Bordeaux, every time he unsettled his nag he found ready for him a good meal and a bed with as much lace inside as out.  Happy Prince! who died on horseback, for he was always across something in-doors and out.  Of his comical jokes our most excellent King Louis the Eleventh has given a splendid sample in the book of “Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles,” written under his superintendence during his exile, at the Court of Burgundy, where, during the long evenings, in order to amuse themselves, he and his cousin Charolois would relate to each other the good tricks and jokes of the period; and when they were hard up for true stories, each of the courtiers tried who could invent the best one.  But out of respect for the royal blood, the Dauphin has credited a townsman with that which happened to the Lady of Cany.  It is given under the title of “La Medaille a revers”, in the collection of which it is one of the brightest jewels, and commences the hundred.  But now for mine.

The Duc d’Orleans had in his suite a lord of the province of Picardy, named Raoul d’Hocquetonville, who had taken for a wife, to the future trouble of the prince, a young lady related to the house of Burgundy, and rich in domains.  But, an exception to the general run of heiresses, she was of so dazzling a beauty, that all the ladies of the court, even the Queen and Madame Valentine, were thrown into the shade; nevertheless, this was as nothing in the lady of Hocquetonville, compared with her Burgundian consanguinity, her inheritances, her prettiness, and gentle nature, because these rare advantages received a religious lustre from her supreme innocence, sweet modesty, and chaste education.  The Duke had not long gazed upon this heaven-sent flower before he was seized with the fever of love.  He fell into a state of melancholy, frequented no bad places, and only with regret now and then did he take a bite at his royal and dainty German morsel Isabella.  He became passionate, and swore either by sorcery, by force, by trickery, or with her consent, to enjoy the flavours of this gentle lady, who, by the sight of her sweet body, forced him to the last extremity, during his now long and weary nights.  At first,