had told the Pope, made answer: "At the least, Holy Father, may it please you give us leave three times a week, without scandal to our name."—"What!" exclaimed the Pope, "give you leave to commit il peccato di lussuria (the sin of lasciviousness?). I should damn mine own soul; I cannot do it!" Hereupon the three ladies, perceiving at last 'twas a case of scampishness and knavery, and that M. d'Albanie had played a trick on them, declared, "'Tis not of that we speak, Holy Father; we but ask permission to eat meat on prohibited days."—Hearing these words, the Duc d'Albanie told them, "Nay! I thought 'twas live flesh you meant, ladies!" The Pope was quick to understand the knavery put on them, and said with a dawning smile, "You have put these noble ladies to the blush, my cousin; the Queen will be angered when she doth hear of it." The Queen did hear of it anon, but made no ado, and found the tale diverting. The King likewise did afterward make good mirth thereof with the Pope; while the Holy Father himself, after giving them his benediction, did grant them the dispensation they craved, and dismissed them well content.
I have been given the names of the three ladies concerned, namely: Madame de Chasteau-Briant or Madame de Canaples, Madame de Chastillon and the Baillive de Caen, all three very honourable ladies. I have the tale from sundry old frequenters of the Court.
Madame d'Uzes [1] did yet better, at the time when Pope Paul III. came to Nice to visit King Francis. She was then Madame du Bellay, and a lady which hath from her youth up always had merry ways and spake many a witty word. One day, prostrating herself at his Holiness' feet, she did make three supplications to him: first, that he
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