Lips for kissing forfeit no favour; nay, they renew as the moon doth ever

Lips for kissing forfeit no favour; nay, they renew as the moon doth ever is the concluding aphorism of Alatiel’s story. Its lunar image turns sexual experience into something that can be renewed, while the events immediately preceding it expose the gap between private history and public reputation: Alatiel has been with many men, yet is received as a maid and lives as a queen.

The aphorism and its image

The saying presents kissing not as a loss of a woman’s favour but as something that leaves it undiminished, even renewed. Its comparison with the moon gives that claim a cyclical image: favour returns rather than being spent. The light, proverbial cadence makes a difficult history sound effortlessly reversible, and prepares the reader for the social reversal with which Alatiel’s story closes.

The report that precedes it

Before Alatiel is sent onward, Antigonus of Famagosta tells the Soldan that she has recounted the events of her return, but has left out the praise offered by the men and women who accompanied her. They had spoken of her chaste and modest life among religious women, her virtue and commendable manners, and the tears and lamentations with which they took leave of her. Antigonus presents their testimony alongside what he himself has observed, and tells the Soldan that he may consider himself the father of an exceptionally fair, chaste, and virtuous daughter.

The Soldan rejoices at this account and gives thanks to God for those who helped his daughter, especially the King of Cyprus, who had returned her to him with honour. He rewards Antigonus and sends thanks to the king by letter and ambassadors. He then advances the marriage already intended for Alatiel: the King of Algarve is told the whole matter and invited to send for her if he wishes to have her.

Public restoration and narrative irony

The closing contrast is blunt. The narrator says that Alatiel has lain with eight men, perhaps ten thousand times, yet is put to bed to the King of Algarve as a maid. She leads him to believe that she is a virgin and lives happily with him as his queen for some time. The aphorism follows this account, joining its image of renewed favour to a plot in which reputation and marital status are restored without erasing the history the reader knows.

The saying therefore works as a witty seal on the story, not as a literal account of what happened to Alatiel. Its confident generality sits beside the specific means of her social reintegration: the praises reported by her companions, the Soldan’s gratitude, the arranged marriage, and the king’s belief in her virginity. That tension gives the final line its pointed, comic force.