louers longed for Monday, and at last it came. Early in the morning Mutio horst himselfe, and his wife, his maide, and a man, and no more, and away he rides to his grange house; where after he had brok his fast he took his leaue, and away towards Vicensa. He rode not far ere by a false way he returned into a thicket, and there with a company of cuntry peasants lay in an ambuscade to take the young gentleman. In the afternoon comes Lionello gallopping; and assoon as he came within sight of the house, he sent back his horse by his boy, & went easily afoot, and there at the very entry was entertained by Margaret, who led him up ye staires, and conuaid him into her bedchamber, saying he was welcome into so mean a cottage: but quoth she, now I hope fortune shal not envy the purity of our loues. Alas, alas, mistris (cried the maid,) heer is my maister, and 100 men with him, with bils and staues. We are betraid, quoth Lionel, and I am but a dead man. Feare not, quoth she, but follow me; and straight she carried him downe into a lowe parlor, where stoode an old rotten chest full of writinges. She put him into that, and couered him with old papers and euidences, and went to the gate to meet her husband. Why signior Mutio, what means this hurly burly, quoth she? Vile and shameless strumpet as thou art, thou shalt know by and by, quoth he. Where is thy loue? All we haue watcht him, & seen him enter in now quoth he, shal neither thy tub of feathers, nor thy seeling serue, for perish he shall with fire, or els fall into my hands. Doo thy woorst, iealous foole, quoth she; I ask thee no fauour. With that in a rage he beset the house round, and then set fire on it. Oh! in what a perplexitie was poore Lionello, that was shut in a chest, and the fire about his eares? And how was Margaret passionat, that knew her louer in such danger? Yet she made light of the matter, and as one in a rage called her maid to her and said: Come on, wench; seeing thy maister mad with iealousie hath set the house and al my liuing on fire, I will be reuenged vpon him; help me heer to lift this old chest where all his writings and deeds are; let that burne first; and assoon as I see that on fire, I will walk towards my freends. for the old foole wil be beggard, and I will refuse him. Mutio that knew al his obligations and statutes lay there, puld her back, and bad two of his men carry the chest into the feeld, and see it were safe; himself standing by and seeing his house burnd downe, sticke and stone. Then quieted in his minde he went home with his wife, and began to flatter her, thinking assuredly y' he had burnd her paramour; causing his chest to be carried in a cart to his house at Pisa. Margaret impatient went to her mothers, and complained to her and to her brethren of the iealousie of her husband; who maintained her it be true, and desired but a daies respite to proue it. Wel, hee was bidden to supper the next night at her mothers, she thinking to make her daughter and him freends againe. In the meane time he to his woonted walk in the church,

and there præter expectationem he found Lionello walking. Wondring at this, he straight enquires, what news? What newes, maister doctor, quoth he, and he fell in a great laughing: in faith yesterday I scapt a scowring; for, syrrah, I went to the grange house, where I was appointed to come, and I was no sooner gotten vp the chamber, but the magicall villeine her husband beset the house with bils and staues, and that he might be sure no seeling nor corner should shrowde me, he set the house on fire, and so burnt it to the ground. Why, quoth Mutio, and how did you escape? Alas, quoth he, wel fare a woman's wit! She conueighed me into an old cheste full of writings, which she knew her husband durst not burne; and so was I saued and brought to Pisa, and yesternight by her maide let home to my lodging. This, quoth he, is the pleasantest iest that ever I heard; and vpon this I haue a sute to you. I am this night bidden foorth to supper; you shall be my guest: onelye I will craue so much favour, as after supper for a pleasant sporte to make relation what successe you haue had in your loues. For that I will not sticke, quothe he; and so he carried Lionello to his mother-in-lawes house with him, and discoursed to his wiues brethren who he was, and how at supper he would disclose the whole matter: for quoth he, he knowes not that I am Margarets husband. At this all the brethren bad him welcome, and so did the mother too; and Margaret she was kept out of sight. Supper-time being come, they fell to their victals, and Lionello was carrowst vnto by Mutio, who was very pleasant, to draw him to a merry humor, that he might to the ful discourse the effect and fortunes of his loue. Supper being ended, Mutio requested him to tel to the gentleman what had hapned between him and his mistresse. Lionello with a smiling countenance began to describe his mistresse, the house and street where she dwelt, how he fell in loue with her, and how he vsed the counsell of this doctor, who in al his affaires was his secretarye. Margaret heard all this with a greate feare; and when he came at the last point she caused a cup of wine to be giuen him by one of her sisters wherein was a ring that he had giuen Margaret. As he had told how he escapt burning, and was ready to confirm all for a troth, the gentlewoman drunke to him; who taking the cup, and seeing the ring, hauing a quick wit and a reaching head, spide the fetch, and perceiued that all this while this was his louers husband, to whome he had reuealed these escapes. At this drinking ye wine, and swallowing the ring into his mouth, he went forward: Gentlemen, quoth he, how like you of my loues and my fortunes? Wel, quoth the gentlemen; I pray you is it true? As true, quoth he, as if I would be so simple as to reueal what I did to Margaret's husband: for know you, gentlemen, that I knew this Mutio to be her husband whom I notified to be my louer; and for yt he was generally

known through Pisa to be a iealous fool, therefore with these tales I brought him into this paradice, which indeed are follies of mine own braine: for trust me, by the faith of a gentleman, I neuer spake to the woman, was never in her companye, neither doo I know her if I see her. At this they all fell in a laughing at Mutio, who was ashamed that Lionello had so scoft him: but all was well,-they were made friends; but the iest went so to his hart, that he shortly after died, and Lionello enioyed the ladye and for that they two were the death of the old man, now are they plagued in purgatory, and he whips them with nettles."

It is observable that in the foregoing novel (which, I believe, Shakspeare had read,) there is no trace of the buck-basket.-In the first tale of The Fortunate, the Deceived, and the Unfortunate Lovers, (of which I have an edition printed in 1684, but the novels it contains had probably appeared in English in our author's time,) a young student of Bologne is taught by an old doctor how to make love; and his first essay is practised on his instructor's wife. The jealous husband having tracked his pupil to his house, enters unexpectedly, fully persuaded that he should detect the lady and her lover together; but the gallant is pro→ tected from his fury by being concealed under a heap of linen half-dried; and afterwards informs him, (not knowing that his tutor was likewise his mistress's husband,) what a lucky escape he had. It is therefore, I think, highly probable that Shakspeare had read both stories. MALONE.

Sir Hugh Evans,] See p. 7, and 8.

The question whether priests were formerly knights in consequence of being called Sir, still remains to be decided. Examples that those of the lower class were so called are very numerous and hence it may be fairly inferred that they at least were not knights, nor is there perhaps a single instance of the order of knighthood being conferred upon ecclesiastics of any degree.

Having casually, however, met with a note in Dyer's Reports, which seems at first view not only to contain some authority for the custom of knighting priests by Abbots, in consequence of a charter granted to the Abbot of Reading for that purpose, but likewise the opinion of two learned judges, founded thereupon, that priests were anciently knights, I have been induced to enter a little more fully upon this discussion, and to examine the validity of those opinions. The extract from Dyer is a marginal note in p. 216. B. in the following words: "Trin. 3 Jac. Blanc le Roy Holcraft and Gibbons, cas Popham dit que il ad view un ancient charter grant al Abbot de Reading per Roy d'Angliterre, a fair knight, sur que son conceit fuit que l'Abbot fait, ecclesiastical

persons, knights, d'illonque come a luy le nosmes de Sir John and Sir Will. que est done al ascun Clerks a cest jour fuit derive quel opinion Coke Attorney-General applaud disont que fueront milites cælestes et milites terrestres." It is proper to mention here that all the reports have been diligently searched for this case of Holcraft and Gibbons, in hopes of finding some further illustration, but without success.

The charter then above-mentioned appears upon further enquiry to have been the foundation charter of Reading Abbey, and to have been granted by Henry I. in 1125. The words of it referred to by Chief Justice Popham, and upon which he founded his opinion, are as follow: "Nec faciat milites nisi in sacra veste Christi, in qua parvulos suscipere modeste caveat. Maturos autem seu discretos tam clericos quam laicos provide suscipiat." This passage is likewise cited by Selden in his notes upon Eadmer, p. 206, and to illustrate the word " clericos" he refers to Mathew Paris for an account of a priest called John Gatesdene, who was created a knight by Henry III. but not until after he had resigned all his benefices," as he ought to have done," says the historian, who in another place relating the disgrace of Peter de Rivallis, Treasurer to Henry III. (see p. 405, edit. 1640,) has clearly shown how incompatible it was that the clergy should bear arms, as the profession of a knight required; and as a further proof may be added the well known story related by the same historian, of Richard I. and the warlike Bishop of Beauvais. I conceive that the word " clericos" refers to such of the clergy who should apply for the order of knighthood under the usual restriction of quitting their former profession; and from Selden's note upon the passage it may be collected that this was his own opinion; or it may possibly allude to those particular knights who were considered as religious or ecclesiastical, such as the knights of the order of St. John of Jerusalem, &c. concerning whom see Ashmole's Order of the Garter, p. 49, 51.

"Ne

With respect to the custom of ecclesiastics conferring the order of knighthood, it certainly prevailed in this country before the conquest, as appears from Ingulphus, and was extremely disliked by the Normans; and therefore at a council held at Westminster in the third year of Henry I. it was ordained, Abbates faciant milites." See Eadmeri Hist. 68. and Selden's note, p. 207. However it appears that notwithstanding this prohibition, which may at the same time serve to show the great improbability that the order of knighthood was conferred upon ecclesiastics, some of the ceremonies at the creation of knights still continued to be performed by Abbots, as the taking the sword from the altar, &c. which may be seen at large in Selden's Titles of Honour, part ii. chap. v. and Dugd. Warw. 531, and accordingly this charter, which is dated twenty-three years after the

council at Westminster, amongst other things directs the Abbot, "Nec faciat milites nisi in sacra veste Christi," &c. Lord Coke's acquiescence in Popham's opinion is founded upon a similar misconception, and his quaint remark “ que fueront milites cælestes et milites terrestres," can only excite a smile. The marginal quotation from Fuller's Church History, b. vi. p. 352. "Moe Sirs than knights" referred to in a former note by Sir J. Hawkins, certainly means" that these Sirs were not knights," and Fuller accounts for the title by supposing them ungraduated priests.

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Before I dismiss this comment upon the opinions of the learned judges, I am bound to observe that Popham's opinion is also referred to, but in a very careless manner, in Godbold's Reports, p. 399, in these words: Popham once Chief Justice of this court said that he had seen a commission directed unto a bishop to knight all the parsons within his diocese, and that was the cause that they were called Sir John, Sir Thomas, and so they continued to be called until the reign of Elizabeth." The idea of knighting all the parsons in a diocese is too ludicrous to need a serious refutation; and the inaccuracy of the assertion, that the title Sir lasted till the reign of Elizabeth, thereby implying that it then ceased, is sufficiently obvious, not only from the words of Popham in the other quotation que est done al ascuns clerks cest jour," but from the proof given by Sir John Hawkins of its existence at a much later period.

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Having thus, I trust, refuted the opinion that the title of Sir was given to priests in consequence of their being knights, I shall venture to account for it in another manner.

This custom then was most probably borrowed from the French, amongst whom the title Domnus is often appropriated to ecclesiastics, more particularly to the Benedictines, Carthusians, and Cistercians. It appears to have been originally a title of honour and respect, and was perhaps, at first, in this kingdom as in France, applied to particular orders, and became afterwards. general as well among the secular as the regular clergy. The reason of preferring Domnus to Dominus was, that the latter belonged to the Supreme Being, and the other was considered as a subordinate title, according to an old verse:

Cœlestem Dominum, terrestrem dicito Domnum.

Hence, Dom, Damp, Dan, Sire, and, lastly, Sir; for authorities are not wanting to show that all these titles were given to ecclesiastics; but I shall forbear to produce them, having, I fear, already trespassed too far upon the reader's patience with this long note. DOUCE.

"And sundry other Heathen nations had their Priests instead of Princes, as Kings to gouerne, as Presbiter Iohn is at this present: and to this day the high Courts of Parliament in England do consist by ancient custome of calling to that honorable Court of