own words, that my readers may be made acquainted with the peculiar phaseology and modes of speech used in those times, together with the story itself. He says, then, in one of these, to set it forth with its proper title :
“To Giotto, the great painter, is given a buckler to paint, by a man of small account. He, making a jest of the matter, paints it in such sort, that the owner is put out of countenance.
“Every one has long since heard of Giotto, and knows how greatly he stood above all other painters. Hearing the fame of this master, a rude artizan, who desired to have his buckler painted, perhaps because he was going to do watch and ward in some castle, marched at once to the work-shop of Giotto, with one bearing the shield behind him. Having got there, he speedily found Giotto, to whom he said, 'God save thee, master! I would fain have thee paint me my arms on this shield.’ Giotto, having examined the man and considered his manner, replied nothing more than—'When wilt thou have it finished?’ which the other having told him, he answered, 'Leave the matter to me ;' and the fellow departed. Then Giotto, being left alone, began to think within himself, 'What may this mean? Hath some one sent this man to make a jest of me? However it be, no man ever before brought me a buckler to paint ; yet here is this simple fellow, who brings me his shield, and bids me paint his arms upon it, as though he were of the royal family of France. Of a verity, I must make him arms of a new fashion.’ Thinking thus within himself, he takes the said buckler, and having designed what he thought proper, called one of his scholars, and bade him complete the painting. This was a tin skullcap, a gorget, a pair of iron gauntlets, with a cuirass, cuishes and gambadoes, a sword, a dagger, and a spear. Our great personage, of whom nobody knew anything, having returned for his shield, marches forward and inquires, 'Master, is this shield painted?’ 'To be sure it is,’ replied Giotto ; 'bring it down here.’ The shield being brought, our wise gentleman that-would-be, began to open his eyes and look at it, calling out to Giotto, 'What trumpery is this that thou hast painted me here?’ 'Will it seem to thee a trumpery matter to pay for it?’ answered Giotto. 'I will not pay five farthings for it all,’ returned the clown. 'And what didst thou require
