Stories from Pentamerone | Page 3

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Transcribed by Batsy Bybell, [email protected]

Stories from Pentamerone
by Giambattista Basile

NOTE
The collection of folk-tales known as Il Pentamerone was first published at Naples and in the Neopolitan dialect, by Giambattista Basile, Conte di Torrone, who is believed to have collected them chiefly in Crete and Venice, and to have died about the year 1637.

CONTENTS
1. How the Tales came to be told 2. The Myrtle 3. Peruonto 4. Vardiello 5. The Flea 6. Cenerentola 7. The Merchant 8. Goat-Face 9. The Enchanted Doe 10. Parsley 11. The Three Sisters 12. Violet 13. Pippo 14. The Serpent 15. The She-Bear 16. The Dove 17. Cannetella 18. Corvetto 19. The Booby 20. The Stone in the Cock's Head 21. The Three Enchanted Princes 22. The Dragon 23. The Two Cakes 24. The Seven Doves 25. The Raven 26. The Months 27. Pintosmalto 28. The Golden Root 29. Sun, Moon, and Talia 30. Nennillo and Nennella 31. The Three Citrons 32. Conclusion

I HOW THE TALES CAME TO BE TOLD
It is an old saying, that he who seeks what he should not, finds what he would not. Every one has heard of the ape who, in trying to pull on his boots, was caught by the foot. And it happened in like manner to a wretched slave, who, although she never had shoes to her feet, wanted to wear a crown on her head. But the straight road is the best; and, sooner or later, a day comes which settles all accounts. At last, having by evil means usurped what belonged to another, she fell to the ground; and the higher she had mounted, the greater was her fall--as you shall see.
Once upon a time the King of Woody Valley had a daughter named Zoza, who was never seen to laugh. The unhappy father, who had no other comfort in life but this only daughter, left nothing untried to drive away her melancholy. So he sent for folks who walk on stilts, fellows who jump through hoops, for boxers, for conjurers, for jugglers who perform sleight-of-hand tricks, for strong men, for dancing dogs, for leaping clowns, for the donkey that drinks out of a tumbler--in short, he tried first one thing and then another to make her laugh. But all was time lost, for nothing could bring a smile to her lips.
So at length the poor father, at wit's end, and to make a last trial, ordered a large fountain of oil to be set in front of the palace gates, thinking to himself that when the oil ran down the street, along which the people passed like a troop of ants, they would be obliged, in order not to soil their clothes, to skip like grasshoppers, leap like goats, and run like hares; while one would go picking and choosing his way, and another go creeping along the wall. In short, he hoped that something might come to pass to make his daughter laugh.
So the fountain was made; and as Zoza was one day standing at the window, grave and demure, and looking as sour as vinegar, there came by chance an old woman, who, soaking up the oil with a sponge, began to fill a little pitcher which she had brought with her. And as she was labouring hard at this ingenious device, a young page of the court passing by threw a stone so exactly to a hair that he hit