It is an evil thing, my Lord, to seek for better than wheaten bread; for a man comes at last to desire what others throw away, and must content himself with honesty. He who loses all, and walks on the tops of the trees, has as much madness in his head as danger under his feet; as was the case with the daughter of a king, who is the subject of the story I have now to tell you.
There was once on a time a king of High-Hill, who longed for children more than the porters do for a funeral, that they may gather wax; insomuch that he made a vow to the goddess Syrinx, that if she would cause him to have a daughter, he would name her Cannetella, to commemorate her having been turned into a reed. And he prayed and prayed, until at length he found favour, and his wife Renzolla presented him with
- At funerals and in public processions the poor people pick up the wax that falls from the tapers, and the flowers that are dropt by the way.