"My name is Margutte," says this strange being; "I was desirous of becoming a giant, but half way I repented, so that I am only ten feet high. I neither believe in black nor blue, but in capon, whether it be boiled or roast, and I have faith sometimes in butter and other good things; but above all, I put my trust in good wine. I believe in tarts and tartlets--the one is the mother, the other is the son;"--and he continues in a style of blasphemy more shocking to our protestant ears than those of the most pious catholics, who, as has been mentioned, are apt to allude in very familiar terms to the mysterious and almighty Beings, whom they do not the less on this account adore, and propitiate with prayer. Margutte's adventures are conducted with a kind of straightforward wickedness which amuses from its very excess: at an inn, after eating up all that is to be got,--his appetite is enormous,--and robbing the host, he sets fire to the house, and departs with Morgante, rejoicing greatly in his success, and carrying off every thing he could lay his hands upon. They go travelling on, and meet with various adventures. Morgante is infinitely amused by his companion, but preserves a gentleness, a generosity, and kindness of heart, which contrasts agreeably with the other's unmeasured sensuality. At last, one morning, Morgante, to play him a trick, draws off Margutte's boots while he is asleep, and hides them; Margutte looks for them, and at length perceives an ape, who is putting them on and drawing them off; the sight of the animal thus engaged so tickles Margutte's fancy, that he laughs till he bursts. Morgante weeps over him, and buries him in a grotto. The whole episode of Margutte is distinct from the rest of the work. Pulci allows that it is not to be found in any of the old songs. Dr. Panizzi supposes, that under the name of Margutte is concealed some individual well known to Pulci and his friends, but at variance with them; and therefore made an object of sarcasm and ridicule.