And no doubt he is right in supposing that these variants (together with the Archpriest’s version) come from _Dom Argent_, a story—not, as Ritson thought, a _fableau_—given in extract by Le Grand d’Aussy in the third volume of the _Fabliaux, Contes, Fables et Romans du XII^e et du XIII^e siècle_ published in 1829. Once more, take the story of the abstemious hermit who once got drunk, went from bad to worse, and finally fell into the hangman’s hands. As Wolf points out, this episode was introduced earlier in the _Libro de Apolonio_; but the Archpriest develops it more fully, amalgamating the tale of _L’Eremite qui s’enyvra_ with _L’Ermyte que le diable conchia du coc et de la geline_. Lastly, the combat between Don Carnal and Doña Quaresma is most brilliantly adapted from the _Bataille de Karesme et de Charnage_:— Seignor, ge ne vos quier celer, Uns fablel vueil renoveler Qui lonc tens a esté perdus: Onques mais Rois, ne Quens, ne Dus N’oïrent de millor estoire, Par ce l’ai-ge mis en mémoire. But the Archpriest’s genial reconstruction outdoes the original at every point. And this is even more emphatically true of _Pamphilus de Amore_, which also no doubt, like the _fableaux_ and _contes_, drifted into Spain from France. At moments Juan Ruiz is content to be an admirable translator. Read, for instance, what Pamphilus says to Galatea in the First Act (sc. iv.) of the Latin play— Alterius villa mea neptis mille salutes Per me mandavit officiumque tibi: Hec te cognoscit dictis et nomine tantum, Et te, si locus est, ipsa videre cupit— and compare it with Don Melón’s address to Doña Endrina in the _Libro de buen amor_:— Señora, la mj sobrina, que en toledo seya, se vos encomjenda mucho, mjll saludes vos enbya; sy ovies lugar e tienpo, por quanto de vos oya, desea vos mucho ver e conosçer vos querria.