"Some hundred and odd years since, there was in France one Captain Coucy, a gallant gentleman of an ancient extraction, and keeper of Coucy Castle, which is yet standing, and in good repair. He fell in love with a young gentlewoman, and courted her for his wife. There was a reciprocal love between them; but her parents understanding of it, by way of prevention, they shuffled up a forced match 'twixt her and one Monsieur Faiell who was a great heir: Captain Coucy hereupon quitted France in discontent, and went to the wars in Hungary against the Turk; where he received a mortal wound, not far from Bada. Being carried to his lodging, he languished for some days; but a little before his death he spoke to an ancient servant of his, that he had many proofs of his fidelity and truth; but now he had a great business to intrust him with, which he conjured him by all means to do, which was, That after his death, he should get his body to be opened and then to take his heart out of his breast, and put in an earthen pot, to be baked to powder; and then to put the powder in a handsome box, with that bracelet of hair he had worn long about on his left wrist, which was a lock of Mademoiselle Faiell's hair, and put it among the powder, together with a little note he had written with his own blood to her; and after he had given him the rites of burial, to make all the speed he could to France, and deliver the box to Mademoiselle Faiell. The old servant did as his master had commanded him, and so went to France; and coming one day to Monsieur Faiell's house, he suddenly met with him, who examined him because he knew he was Captain Coucy's servant, and finding him timorous and faltering in his speech, he searched him, and found the said box in his pocket with the note, which expressed what was therein. He dismissed the bearer with menaces, that he should come no more near his house: Monsieur Faiell going in, sent for his cook, and delivered him the powder, charging him to make a little well-relished dish of it, without losing a jot of it, for it was a very costly thing; and commanded him to bring it in himself, after the last course at supper. The cook bringing in the dish accordingly, Monsieur Faiell commanded all to void the room, and began a serious discourse with his wife: However since he had married her, he observed she was always melancholy, and he feared she was inclining to a consumption; therefore he had provided for her a very precious cordial, which he was well assured would cure her. Thereupon he made her eat up the whole dish; and afterwards much importuning him to know what it was, he told her at last, she had eaten Coucy's heart, and so drew the box out of his pocket, and showed her the note and bracelet. In a sudden exultation of joy, she with a far-fetched sigh said, '_This is precious indeed_,' and so licked the dish, saying, '_It is so precious, that 'tis pity to put ever any meat upon 't_.' So