Chapter VII

_Meg goes a shroving, fights the Thieves of St. James's
Corner, and makes them restore Father Willis,
the Carrier, his hundred marks._

Not only the cities of London and Westminster, but Lancashire also, rung of Meg's fame, so they desired old Willis, the carrier, to call upon her, which he did, taking with him the other lasses. Meg was joyful to see them, and it being Shrove Tuesday, Meg went with them to Knightsbridge, and spent most of the day with repeating tales of their friends in Lancashire; and so tarried the carrier, who again and again inquired how all did there, and made the time seem shorter than it was. The night growing on, the carrier and the two other lasses were importunate to be gone, but Meg was loath to set out, and so stayed behind to discharge the reckoning, and promised to overtake them.

It was their misfortune at St. James's Corner to meet with two thieves who were waiting there for them, and took a hundred marks from Willis, the carrier, and from the two wenches their gowns and purses. Meg came up immediately after, and then the thieves, seeing her also in a female habit, thought to take her purse also; but she behaved herself so well that they began to give ground. Then said Meg, "Our gowns and purses against your hundred marks; win all and wear all." "Content," quoth they. "Now, lasses, pray for me," said Meg. With that she buckled with these two knaves, beat one and so hurt the other that they entreated her to spare their lives. "I will," said she, "upon conditions." "Upon any condition," said they. "Then," said she, "it shall be thus--

1. That you never hurt a woman nor any company she is in.
2. That you never hurt lame or impotent men.
3. That you never hurt any children or innocents.
4. That you rob no carrier of his money.
5. That you rob no manner of poor or distressed.

"Are you content with these conditions?" "We are," said they. "I have no book about me," said she, "but will you swear on my smock tail?" which they accordingly did, and then she returned the wenches their gowns and purses, and old Father Willis, the carrier, a hundred marks.

The men desiring to know who it was had so lustily beswinged them, said--"To alleviate our sorrow, pray tell us your name." She smiling replied--"If anyone asks you who banged your bones, say Long Meg of Westminster once met with you."

CHAPTER VIII.

_Meg's Fellow Servant pressed; her Usage of the Constable;
and of her taking Press Money to go to Boulogne._

In those days were wars between England and France, and a hot press about London. The constables of Westminster pressed Meg's fellow servant, and she told them if they took him her mistress was undone.

All this could not persuade the constable, but Harry must go, on which she lent the constable a knock. Notice being given to the captain, he asked who struck him. "Marry," quoth Meg, "I did, and if I did not love soldiers I'd serve you so too." So, taking a cavalier from a man's hand, she performed the exercise with such dexterity that they wondered, whereupon she said--"Press no man, but give me press money and I will go myself." At this they all laughed, and the captain gave her an angel, whereupon she went with him to Boulogne.

CHAPTER IX.

_Of her Beating the Frenchman off the Walls of Boulogne, for
which gallant behaviour she is rewarded by the King
with Eightpence per Day for Life._

King Henry, passing the seas, took Boulogne. Hereupon the Dauphin with a great number of men surprised and retook it. Meg, being a laundress in the town, raised the best of the women; and, with a halberd in her hand, came to the walls, on which some of the French had entered, and threw scalding water and stones at them that she often obliged them to quit the town before the soldiers were up in arms. And at the sally she came out the foremost with her halberd in her hand to pursue the chase.

The report of this deed being come to the ears of the king, he allowed her for life eightpence a day.

CHAPTER X.

_Of her fighting and beating a Frenchman before Boulogne._

During this she observed one who in a bravado tossed his pike. She, seeing his pride, desired a drum to signify that a young soldier would have a push at pike with him. It was agreed on, and the place appointed life against life.

On the day the Frenchman came, and Meg met him, and without any salute fell to blows; and, after a long combat, she overcame him, and cut off his head. Then, pulling off her hat, her hair fell about her ears.

By this the Frenchman knew it was a woman, and the English giving a shout, she, by a drummer, sent the Dauphin his soldier's head, and said, "An English woman sent it."

The Dauphin much commended her, sending her a hundred crowns for her valour.

CHAPTER XI.

_Of her coming to England and being Married._

The wars in France being over, Meg came to Westminster and married a soldier, who, hearing of her exploits, took her into a room, and, making her strip to her petticoat, took one staff and gave her another, saying, "As he had heard of her manhood, he was determined to try her." But Meg held down her head, whereupon he gave her three or four blows, and she in submission fell down upon her knees desiring him to pardon her. "For," said she, "whatever I do to others, it behoves me to be obedient to you; and it shall never be said, if I cudgel a knave that injures me, Long Meg is her husband's master; and therefore use me as you please." So they grew friends, and never quarrelled after.

CHAPTER XII.

_Long Meg's Usage to an angry Miller._

Meg going one day with her neighbours to make merry, a miller near Epping looking out, the boy they had with them, about fourteen years old, said--"Put out, miller, put out." "What must I put out?" said he. "A thief's head and ears," said the other.

At this the miller came down and well licked him, which Meg endeavoured to prevent, whereupon he beat her. But she wrung the stick from him, and then cudgelled him severely; and having done, sent the boy to the mill for an empty sack, and put the miller in all but his head; and then, fastening him to a rope, she hauled him up half way, and there left him hanging. The poor miller cried out for help, and if his wife had not come he had surely been killed, and the mill, for want of corn, set on fire.