Chapter I: Part 1

Old English Jest-Book.

VOL. I.

Shakespeare Jest-Books;

REPRINTS OF THE EARLY
AND VERY RARE JEST-BOOKS SUPPOSED TO
HAVE BEEN USED BY SHAKESPEARE.

A Hundred Mery Talys,
FROM THE ONLY KNOWN COPY.

II.

Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres,
FROM THE RARE EDITION OF 1567.

_Edited, with Introduction and Notes._

BY

W. CAREW HAZLITT,

OF THE INNER TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.

----_That I was disdainful,--and that
I had my good wit out of the Hundred Merry Tales._

BEATRICE, in Much Ado about Nothing.

LONDON: WILLIS & SOTHERAN, 136, STRAND.

MDCCCLXIV.

¶ A C. mery

Talys.

The Table.

PAGE

¶ _Of him that said there were but two commandementes._
i. 11

¶ _Of the wyfe who lay with her prentys and
caused him to beate her husbande disguised
in her rayment._ ii 12

¶ _Of John Adroyns in the dyuyls apparell._ iii. 14

¶ _Of the Ryche man and his two sonnes._ iv. 18

¶ _Of the Cockolde who gained a Ring by his
iudgment._ v. 19

¶ _Of the scoler that gave his shoes to cloute._ vi. 20

¶ _Of him that said that a womans tongue was
lightest of digestion._ vii. _ib._

¶ _Of the Woman that followed her fourth husbands
bere and wept._ viii. 21

¶ _Of the Woman that sayd her woer came to
late. ix._ 22

¶ _Of the Mylner with the golden thombe._ x. 23

¶ _Of the horseman of Irelande that prayde
Oconer for to hange up the frere._ xi. _ib._

¶ _Of the preest that sayd nother Corpus meus
nor Corpum meum._ xii. 26

¶ _Of the two freres whereof the one loued nat the
ele heed nor the other the tayle._ xiii. 27

¶ _Of the welche man that shroue hym for brekynge
of hys faste on the fryday._ xiv. 28

¶ _Of the merchaunte of London that dyd put
nobles in his mouthe in hys dethe bedde._ xv. 30

¶ _Of the mylner that stale the nuttes of the
tayler that stale a shepe._ xvi. 31

¶ _Of the foure elementes where they should sone
be founde._ xvii. 36

¶ _Of the woman that poured the potage in the
iudges male._ xviii. 37

¶ _Of the wedded men that came to heuen to
clayme theyr herytage._ xix. 39

¶ _Of the merchaunte that charged his sonne to
fynde one to synge for hys soule._ xx. 40

¶ _Of the mayde wasshynge clothes that answered
the frere._ xxi. 42

¶ _Of the thre wyse men of Gotam._ xxii. _ib._

¶ _Of the graye frere that answered his penytente._
xxiii. 43

¶ _Of the gentylman that bare the sege borde on
hys necke._ xxiv. 44

¶ _Of the merchantes wyfe that sayd she wolde
take a nap at a sermon._ xxv. 47

¶ _Of the woman that said and she lyued another
yere she wolde haue a cockoldes hatte of her
owne._ xxvi. 48

¶ _Of the gentylman that wysshed his tothe in
the gentylwomans tayle._ xxvii. _ib._

¶ _Of the Welcheman that confessyd hym howe he
had slayne a frere._ xxviii. 49

¶ _Of the Welcheman that coude nat gette but a
lytell male._ xxix. 50

¶ _Of the gentyll woman that sayde to a gentyll
man ye haue a berde aboue and none benethe._
xxx. 51

¶ _Of the frere that sayde our Lorde fed fyue M.
people with iii fysshys._ xxxi. 52

¶ _Of the frankelyn that wold haue had the frere
gone._ xxxii. 53

¶ _Of the prest that sayd Our Lady was not so
curyous a woman._ xxxiii. 54

¶ _Of the good man that sayde to his wyfe he had
euyll fare._ xxxiv. 55

¶ _Of the frere that bad his childe make a laten._
xxxv. _ib._

¶ _Of the gentylman that asked the frere for his
beuer._ xxxvi. 56

¶ _Of the thre men that chose the woman._ xxxvii. _ib._

¶ _Of the gentylman that taught his cooke the
medycyne for the tothake._ xxxviii. 58

¶ _Of the gentylman that promysed the scoler of
Oxford a sarcenet typet._ xxxix. 60

¶ _Of mayster Skelton that broughte the bysshop
of Norwiche ii fesauntys._ xl. 62

¶ _Of the yeman of garde that sayd he wolde bete
the carter._ xli. 65

¶ _Of the fole that saide he had leuer go to hell
than to heuen._ xlii. 66

¶ _Of the plowmannys sonne that sayde he sawe
one to make a gose to creke swetely._ xliii. 67

¶ _Of the maydes answere that was wyth chylde._
xliv. _ib._

¶ _Of the seruaunt that rymyd with hys mayster._
xlv. 68

¶ _Of the Welcheman that delyuered the letter to
the ape._ xlvi. 69

¶ _Of hym that solde ryght nought._ xlvii. 71

¶ _Of the frere that tolde the thre chyldres fortunes._
xlviii. 72

¶ _Of the boy that bare the frere his masters
money._ xlix. 74

¶ _Of Phylyp Spencer the bochers man._ l. 75

¶ _Of the courtear and the carter._ li. 76

¶ _Of the yong man that prayd his felow to teche
hym hys paternoster._ lii. 77

¶ _Of the frere that prechyd in ryme expownynge
the ave maria._ liii. 78

¶ _Of the curat that prechyd the Artycles of the
Crede._ liv. 80

¶ _Of the frere that prechyd the x commaundementis._
lv. 82

¶ _Of the wyfe that bad her husbande ete the
candell fyrste._ lvi. 84

¶ _Of the man of lawes sonnes answer._ lvii. _ib._

¶ _Of the frere in the pulpet that bad the woman
leve her babelynge._ lviii. 85

¶ _Of the Welcheman that cast the Scotte into the
see._ lix. 86

¶ _Of the man that had the dome wyfe._ lx. 87

¶ _Of the Proctour of Arches that had the lytel
wyfe._ lxi. 89

¶ _Of ii nonnes that were shryuen of one preste._
lxii. _ib._

¶ _Of the esquyer that sholde haue ben made
knight._ lxiii. 91

¶ _Of hym that wolde gette the maystrye of his
wyfe._ lxiv. . 92

¶ _Of the penytent that sayd the shepe of God
haue mercy vpon me._ lxv. 93

¶ _Of the husbande that sayd he was John daw._
lxvi. 94

¶ _Of the scoler of Oxforde that proued by souestry
ii chykens iii._ lxvii. 95

¶ _Of the frere that stale the podynge._ lxviii. 97

¶ _Of the frankelyns sonne that cam to take
orders._ lxix. 98

¶ _Of the husbandman that lodgyd the frere in
his own bede._ lxx. 99

¶ _Of the preste that wolde say two gospels for a
grote._ lxxi. 100

¶ _Of the coutear that dyd cast the frere ouer the
bote._ lxxii. 101

¶ _Of the frere that prechyd what mennys sowles
were._ lxxiii. _ib._

¶ _Of the husbande that cryed ble vnder the bed. _lxxiv. 102

¶ _Of the shomaker that asked the colyer what
tydynges in hell._ lxxv. 103

¶ _Of Seynt Peter that cryed cause bobe._ lxxvi. 104

¶ _Of hym that aduenturyd body and soule for
hys prynce._ lxxvii. 105

¶ _Of the parson that stale the mylners elys._ lxxviii. 106

¶ _Of the Welchman that saw one xl's better
than God._ lxxix. _ib._

¶ _Of the frere that said dyryge for the hoggys
soule._ lxxx. _ib._

¶ _Of the parson that sayde masse of requiem for
Crystes soule._ lxxxi. 108

¶ _Of the herdeman that sayde: ryde apace, ye
shall haue rayn._ lxxxii. 109

¶ _Of hym that sayde: I shall haue neuer a peny._
lxxxiii. 110

¶ _Of the husbande that sayde his wyfe and he
agreed well._ lxxxiv. 111

¶ _Of the prest that sayde Comede episcope._ lxxxv. _ib._

¶ _Of the woman that stale the pot._ lxxxvi. . 112

¶ _Of mayster Whyttyntons dreme._ lxxxvii. . 113

¶ _Of the prest that killed his horse called
modicus._ lxxxviii. 114

¶ _Of the Welcheman that stale the Englysshmans
cocke._ lxxxix. 115

¶ _Of hym that brought a botell to a preste._ xc. _ib._

¶ _Of the endytement of Jesu of Nazareth._ xci. 116

¶ _Of the frere that preched agaynst them that
rode on the Sonday._ xcii. 117

¶ _Of the one broder that founde a purs._ xciii. 118

¶ _Of the answere of the mastres to the mayde._
xciv. 119

¶ _Of the northern man that was all harte._ xcv. _ib._

¶ _Of the burnynge of olde John._ xcvi. _ib._

¶ _Of the courtear that ete the hot custarde._ xcvii. 121

¶ _Of the thre pointes belonging to a shrewd
wyfe._ xcix. 122

¶ _Of the man that paynted the lamb upon his
wyfes bely._ c. 123

INTRODUCTION.

When a small impression of these quaint old books issued from the Chiswick Press, many years ago, under the auspices of the late Mr. S. W. Singer, that gentleman merely designed the copies struck off for presentation to a select circle of literary friends who, like himself, felt a warm interest in every relic of the past which helped to illustrate Shakespeare and ancient English manners. He did not consequently feel under the necessity of furnishing notes, and he preserved not only the old orthography, but the old punctuation, and the most palpable errors of the press. His edition unfortunately laboured under one disadvantage: when he printed, in 1814, the _Mery Tales and Quick Answers_ from Berthelet's edition, he imagined that this was the book to which Beatrice is made to allude in _Much Ado About Nothing_, and under this idea he christened the volume _Shakespeare's Jest Book_. He also thought he was safe in assuming that the edition by Berthelet was the only one extant. But Mr. Singer discovered, before his undertaking was a year old, that he had come to an erroneous conclusion on both these points: for an impression of the _Mery Tales, &c._ printed by Henry Wykes in 1567, and containing, with all the old matter, twenty-six additional stories, was brought under his notice, and about the same time a totally unknown work, bearing the very title mentioned by Beatrice, was accidentally rescued from oblivion by the Rev. J. J. Conybeare, who, it is said by Dunlop, picked up the treasure at a bookstall. This was no other than A C. MERY TALYS.

The copy of _C. Mery Talys_ thus casually brought to light, had been used by a binder of or about the time of its appearance as pasteboard to another book, and it was in this state when it fell in the way of Mr. Conybeare. As might have been expected, many of the leaves were damaged and mutilated; but (which rendered the matter still more curious) it happily chanced that _more than one copy_ had been employed by the aforesaid binder in fashioning the aforesaid pasteboard, and the consequence was that a much larger fragment than would have been otherwise saved was formed by means of duplicate leaves. Still several gaps in the text remained, which it was found impossible to fill up, and as no other copy has since occurred, no better means exist now than existed fifty years ago of supplying the deficiencies. Where the hiatus consisted of a word or two only, and the missing portion could be furnished by conjecture, Mr. Singer took the liberty of adding what seemed to be wanting, in italics; his interpolations have been left as they stood. The old orthography and language, besides the charm of quaintness, appeared to the editor to possess a certain philological value, and he has rigidly adhered to it. In respect to the punctuation, the case was different; there were no reasons of any kind for its retention; it was very imperfect and capricious; and it has therefore been modernized throughout.

The _C. Mery Talys_, of which the copy above described has a fair pretention to the distinction of uniqueness, were first printed by John Rastell, without date but circa 1525, in folio, 24 leaves. Whether Rastell printed more than one edition is an open question. The book was not reprinted, so far as we know at present, till 1558, when John Walley or Waley paid two shillings to the Stationers' Company for his licence to produce this and other pieces. Walley reprinted a great number of books which had originally come from the press of Wynkyn de Worde and other early masters of the art, but it is not very likely that the _C. Mery Talys_ made their appearance prior to 1525, and there is room to doubt whether even then the severe reflections on the scandalous lives of the Roman Catholic priesthood were not slightly premature. The almost total destruction of copies may be, after all, due, not to the excessive popularity of the publication, but to its early suppression by authority or otherwise. After the triumph of the Reformation, and until the death of Edward VI. however, although these tales still remained as unpalatable as ever to a certain party, there was nothing to hinder their circulation, and that there were intermediate impressions between that from Rastell's press, and the one licensed to Walley,[1] if not printed by him, is not at all improbable. The _C. Mery Talys_ were subsequently and successively the property of Sampson Awdley and John Charlwood, to the latter of whom they were licensed on the 15th January, 1582. All trace of editions by Walley, Awdley, or Charlwood, has disappeared, although doubtless all three printed the work.

Of the MERY TALES AND QUICKE ANSWERES, which forms the second portion of the present volume, only two impressions are known. One of these, supposed to be the original, was printed by Thomas Berthelet, without date (about 1535), in 4to.; it contains 114 anecdotes. The other, from the press of Henry Wykes, bears the date 1567, and is in the duodecimo form; it produces with tolerable exactness the text of Berthelet, and has twenty-six new stories. Besides these, at least one other impression formerly existed: for, in 1576-7, Henry Bynneman paid to the Stationers' Company fourpence "and a copie" for "a booke entituled mery tales, wittye questions, and quycke answers."[2] No copy of Bynneman's edition has hitherto been discovered; a copy of that of 1567 was in the Harleian library. At the sale of the White-Knights collection in 1819, Mr. George Daniel of Canonbury gave nineteen guineas for the exemplar of Berthelet's undated 4to, which had previously been in the Roxburghe library, and which at the dispersion of the latter in 1812, had fetched the moderate sum of 5_l._ 15_s._ 6_d._

The reader who is conversant with this class of literature will easily recognise in the following pages many stories familiar to him either in the same, or in very slightly different, shapes; a few, which form part of the _Mery Tales and Quick Answers_, were included in a collection published many years since under the title of _Tales of the Minstrels_. No. 42 of the _Mery Tales and Quick Answers_ was perhaps at one time rather popular as a theme for a joke. There is an Elizabethan ballad commencing, "ty the mare, tom-boy, ty the mare," by William Keth, which the editor thought, before he had had an opportunity of examining it, might be on the same subject; but he finds that it has nothing whatever to do with the matter.[3] It may also be noticed that the story related of the king who, to revenge himself on God, forbade His name to be mentioned, or His worship to be celebrated throughout his dominions, is said by Montaigne, in one of his essays, to have been current in his part of France, when he was a boy. The king was Alfonso xi of Castile. No. 68 of _A C. Mery Talys_, "Of the Friar that stole the Pudding," is merely an abridgment of the same story, which occurs in _Tarltons Newes out of Purgatorie_, where it is told of the "Vickar of Bergamo." Many of the jests in these two pamphlets are also to be found in _Scoggins Jests_, licensed in 1565; a few occur in the _Philosopher's Banquet_, 1614; and one--that where the lady ties a string to her toe as a signal to her lover--is repeated at greater length in the "Cobler of Canterbury," edit. 1608, where it is called "the old wives' tale." It would be a curious point to ascertain whether the anecdotes common to these collections and to "_Scoggin's Jests_," do not refer to the same person; and whether Scoggin is not in fact the hero of many of the pranks attributed to the "Scholar of Oxford," the "Youngman," the "Gentleman," &c. in the following pages, which were in existence many years before the first publication of _Scoggins Jests_. It will hardly be contested at the present day, that "books of the people,"[4] like these now reprinted, with all their occasional coarseness and frequent dulness, are of extreme and peculiar value, as illustrations of early manners and habits of thought.

The editor has ventured to make certain emendations of the text, where they were absolutely necessary to make it intelligible; but these are always carefully noted at the foot of the page where they occur. A word or two, here and there, has been introduced between brackets to complete the sense; and a few notes have been given, since it was thought desirable to point out where a tale was common to several collections in various shapes or in the same shape, to indicate the source from which it was derived, and to elucidate obscure phrases or passages. But he has refrained from overloading the book with comment, from a feeling that, in the majority of cases, the class of readers, to which a publication such as this addresses itself, are fully as competent to clear up any apparent difficulties which may fall in their way, as himself.

The allusions to the _C. Mery Talys_ and to its companion in old writers are sufficiently numerous.[5]

Bathe, in his _Introduction to the Art of Musick_, 1584, says: "But for the worthiness I thought it not to be doubted, seeing here are set forth a booke of a hundred mery tales, another of the bataile between the spider and the flie, &c." A few years later, Sir John Harington, in his _Apologie_(for the _Metamorphosis of Ajax_) 1596, writes: "Ralph Horsey, Knight, the best housekeeper in Dorsetshire, a good freeholder, a deputie Lieutenant. Oh, sir, you keep hauks and houndes, and hunting horses: it may be som madde fellowe will say, you must stand up to the chinne, for spending five hundred poundes, to catch hares, and Partridges, that might be taken for five poundes." Then comes this note in the margin: "according to the tale in the hundred Mery Tales." It is No. 57. In the Epilogue to the play of _Wily Beguild_, printed in 1606, but written during the reign of Elizabeth, there is a passage in which the _C. Mery Talys_ are coupled with _Scoggins Jests_, and in his _Wonderful yeare_, 1603, Decker says: "I could fill a large volume, and call it the second part of the _Hundred Merry Tales_, only with such ridiculous stuff as this of the justice." From this extract, first quoted by Mr. Collier in his valuable History of the Drama, and from the manner in which Shakespeare, through the mouth of Beatrice, speaks of the _Mery Talys_, it is to be gathered that neither writer held this book of jests in very high estimation; and, as no vestiges are traceable of an edition of the work subsequent to 1582, it is possible that about that time the title had grown too stale to please the less educated reader, and the work had fallen into disrepute in higher quarters. The stories themselves, in some shape or other, however, have been reproduced in every jest-book from the reign of Elizabeth to the Restoration, while many of them multiply themselves even to the present day in the form of chap books.

_A C. Mery Talys_ was one of the popular tracts described by the pedantic Laneham, in his _Letter from Kenilworth_, 1575, as being in the Library of Captain Cox, of Coventry.[6]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Walley obtained his licence or the _C. Mery Talys_ in 1557-8, during the reign of Mary, perhaps in anticipation of a change in the government, and in order to forestall other stationers. If Walley printed the Tales, it is most likely that he waited, till Elizabeth came to the throne.

[2] Collier's Extracts from the Reg. Stat. Co. ii. 25.

[3] An abridgment of this ballad was published in Ritson's _Ancient Songs and Ballads_, 1829, ii. 31. But see the _Townley Catalogue_, No. 358.

[4] The elder Disraeli has a chapter on this subject in his _Amenities of Literature_.

[5] For some of these notices I am indebted to Mr. Singer; others I have added myself from the various sources.

[6] In Act v. Sc. iii of Fletcher's _Nice Valour_ (Dyce's B. & F. x. 361) there is mention of the _Hundred Novels_, alluding, not to the _C. Mery Talys_, but to the _Decameron_ of Boccaccio, of which an English translation appeared in 1620-5.

A C.

MERY TALYS.

¶ _Of hym that said there were but two commandementes._ i.

¶ A certayne Curate in the contrey there was that _preched_ in the pulpet of the ten comaundementys, sayeng _that_ there were ten commaundementes that euery man _should_ kepe, and he that brake any of them commytted syn, howbeit he sayd, that somtyme it was _dedely and_ somtyme venyal. But when it was dedely syn and whan venyall there were many doutes therin. ¶ And a mylner, a yong man, a mad felow that cam seldom to chyrch and had ben at very few sermons or none in all his lyfe, answered hym than shortely this wyse: I meruayl, master person, that ye say there be so many commaundementes and so many doutes: for I neuer hard tell but of two commaundementes, that is to saye, commaunde me to you and commaunde me fro you. Nor I neuer harde tell of more doutes but twayn, that ys to say, dout the candell and dout the fyre.[7] At which answere all the people fell a laughynge.

By this tale a man may well perceyue that they, that be brought vp withoute lernynge or good maner, shall neuer be but rude and bestely, all thoughe they haue good naturall wyttes.

¶ _Of the wyfe who lay with her prentys and caused him to beate her husbande disguised in her rayment._ ii.

¶ A wyfe there was, which had apoynted her prentys to com to her bed in the nyght, which seruaunt had long woed her to haue his plesure; which acordyng to the apoyntement cam to her bed syde in the night, her husbande lyenge by her. And whan she perceyuyd him there, she caught hym by the hande and helde hym fast, and incontynent wakened her husbande, and sayde: 'syr, it is so ye haue a fals and an vntrue seruant, which is Wylliam your prentys, and hath longe woyd me to haue his pleasure; and because I coulde not auoyde his importunate request, I haue apoynted hym this nyght to mete me in the gardeyne in the herber; and yf ye wyll aray your selfe in myn aray and go theder, ye shall see the profe therof; and than ye may rebuke hym as ye thynk best by your dyscrecyon. This husbande, thus aduertysed by hys wyfe, put upon him his wyue's rayment and went to the herber; and whan he was gone thyder the prentys cam in to bed to his mastres; where for a season they were bothe content and plesyd ech other by the space of an hour or ii; but whan she thoughte tyme conuenient, she said to the prentyse: now go thy way into the herber, and mete hym and tak a good waster[8] in thy hand, and say thou dyd it but to proue whether I wold be a good woman or no; and reward him as thou thinkyst best. This prentys doyng after his mastres councell went in to the herber, where he found his master in his mastres' apparell and sayd: A! thou harlot, art thou comen hether? now I se well, if I wod be fals to my master, thou woldest be a strong hore; but I had leuer thou were hangid than I wold do him so trayterous a ded: therefor I shall gyve the som punyshment as thou lyke an hore hast deseruyd and therewith lapt him well about the sholders and back, and gaue him a dosen or ii good stripes. The master, felyng him selfe somwhat to smarte, sayde: peace, Willyam, myn own trew good seruant; for Goddis sake, _holde thy_ handes: for I am thy mayster and not thy maystres. Nay, hore, quod _he, thou knowest_ thou art but an harlot, and I dyd but to proue the; and smote him agayn. _Hold! Hold!_ quod the mayster, I beseech the, no more: for I am not she: for I am thy _mayster_, for I haue a berde; and therwith he sparyd hys hand and felt his berd. Good mayster, quod the prentyse, I crye you mercy; and then the mayster went unto hys wyfe; and she askyd hym how he had sped. And he answeryd; I wys, wyfe, I haue been shrewdly betyn; howbeit I haue cause to be glad: for I thank God I haue as trew a wyfe and as trew a seruant as any man hath in Englonde.[9]

By thys tale ye may se that yt ys not wysdome for a man to be rulyd alway after his wyuys councell.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] _i.e._ do out. It is, perhaps, scarcely necessary to mention that in French, the term _commander_ has a double signification, _to command_ and _to commend_. In our language, the two words are of course distinct; hence the jest.

[8] Cudgel.

¶ _Of John Adroyns in the dyuyls apparell._ iii.

¶ It fortunyd that in a market towne in the counte of Suffolke there was a stage play, in the which play one, callyd John Adroyns which dwellyd in a nother vyllage ii myle from thens, playde the dyuyll. And when the play was done, thys John Adroyns in the euynyng departyd fro the sayde market towne to go home to hys own house. Because he had there no change of clothying, he went forth in hys dyuylls apparell, whych in the way comyng homeward cam thorow a waren of conys[10] belongyng to a gentylman of the vyllage, wher he him self dwelt. At which tyme it fortunyd a preste, a vycar of a churche therby, with ii or iii other vnthrifty felows, had brought with them a hors, a hey[11] and a feret to th'entent there to get conys; and when the feret was in the yerth, and the hey set ouer the pathway where thys John Adroyns shuld come, thys prest and hys other felows saw hym come in the dyuyls rayment. Consideryng that they were in the dyuyls seruyce and stelyng of conys and supposyng it had ben the deuyll in dede, [they] for fere, ran away. Thys John Adroyns in the dyuyls rayment, an' because[12] it was somewhat dark, saw not the hay, but went forth in hast and stomblid therat and fell doun, that with the fal he had almost broken his nek. But whan he was a lytyll reuyuyd, he lookyd up and spyed it was a hay to catch conys, and [he] lokyd further and saw that they ran away for fere of him, and saw a horse tyed to a bush laden wyth conys whych they had taken; and he toke the horse and the haye and lept upon the horse and rode to the gentylmannys place that was lorde of the waren to the entente to haue thank for takynge suche a pray. And whan he came, [he] knokyd at the gatys, to whome anone one of the gentylmanny's seruauntys askyd who was there and sodeinly openyd the gate; and assone as he percyuyd hym in the deuyls rayment, [he] was sodenly abashyd and sparryd the dore agayn, and went in to his mayster and sayd and sware to his mayster, that the dyuell was at the gate and wolde come in. The gentylman, heryng him say so, callyd another of his seruauntys and bad him go to the gate to knowe who was there. Thys seconde seruant [that] came to the gate durst not open it but askyd wyth lowd voyce who was there. Thys John Adroyns in the dyuyls aparell answeryd wyth a hye voyce and sayd: tell thy mayster I must nedys speke with hym or[13] I go. Thys seconde seruaunt heryng * *

_8 lines of the original are wanting._

the deuyll indede that is at the gate syttynge vpon an _horse laden with_ soules; and be lykelyhode he is come for your soule. Purpos _ye_ to _let him have your_ soule and if he had your soule I wene he shulde be _gon_. _The gentyl_man, than, meruaylously abasshed, called his chaplayne _and sayd: let a can_dell be light, and gette holy water; and [he] wente to the gate _with as manye ser_uantes as durste go with him; where the chaplayne with _muche con_iuracyon sayd: in the name of the father, sonne and holy _ghost, I commande_ and charge the in the holy name of God to tell me _wherefore thou_ comeste hyther. ¶ This John Adroynes in the deuylls _apparell_, seying them begynne to coniure after such maner, sayd: nay, _feare not_ me; for I am a good deuyll; I am John Adroynes your neyghboure in this towne and he that playde the deuyll to day in the playe. I _bryng_ my mayster a dosen or two of his owne conyes that were stolen in _dede_ and theyr horse and theyr haye, and [I] made them for feare to ronne _awaye_. Whanne they harde hym thus speke by his voyce, [they] knewe him well, and opened the gate and lette hym come in. And so all the foresayd feare was turned to myrthe and disporte.

By this tale ye may se that men feare many tymes more than they nede, whiche hathe caused men to beleue that sperytes and deuyls haue ben sene in dyuers places, whan it hathe ben nothynge so.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] This story is merely the latter portion of the seventh novel of the Seventh Day of the Decameron; but Boccaccio tells it somewhat differently. It may also he found in the _Pecorone_ of Ser. Giovanni Fiorentino, and in _A Sackful of Newes_. 1673 (a reprint of a much older edition). In the latter there are one or two trifling particulars not found here.

[10] A rabbit-warren.

[11] Net, Fr. _haie_.

[12] In orig. _and because_.

[13] _i.e._ ere, before.

¶ _Of the ryche man and his two sonnes._ iv.

¶ There was a ryche man whiche lay sore sycke in his bedde to _deth_. _There_fore his eldest sonne came to hym, and besechyd him to gyue _him hys_ blessyng, to whome the father sayde: sonne, thou shalt haue Goddes blessyng and myne; and because thou hast ben euer good of condicyons, I _giue and_ bequethe the all my lande. To whome he answered and sayd: nay father, I truste you shall lyue and occupy them your selfe full well by Goddes grace. Sone after came another sonne to him lyke wyse and desyred his blessyng, to whome the father said: my sonne, thou hast been euer kynde and gentyll; I gyue the Goddes blessyng and myne; and I bequethe the all my mouable goodes. To whome he answered and said: nay father, I trust you shall lyue and do well and spende and vse your goodes _yourself_ * * * *

_8 Lines wanting._

--_By this tale_ men may well perceyue that yonge people that * * * * * * * theyr frendes counsell in youthe in tymes * * * * * full ende.

¶ _Of the cockolde who gained a ring by his iudgment._ v.

¶ _Two gentylmen_ of acquoyntaunce were apoynted to lye with a gentylwoman both in one nyght, the one nat knowynge of the other, at _dyuers houres_. ¶ Thys fyrste at hys houre apoynted came, and in the _bedde chanced_ to lese a rynge. The seconde gentylman, whanne he _came to bedde_, fortuned to fynde the same rynge, and whan he hadde _stayde som tyme_ departed. And two or thre dayes after, the fyrste gentylmanne _saw hys_ rynge on the others fynger, and chalenged it of hym and he _refused it_, and badde hym tell where he had loste it: and he sayd: in suche a _gentylwo_mans bedde. Than quod the other: and there founde I it. And the _one gentylman_ wolde haue it and the other said he shulde nat. Than they agreed _to be decyded_ by the nexte man that they dyd mete. And it fortuned them to _mete_ the husbande of the said gentyll woman and desyred hym of his _iudg_ment, shewynge hym all the hole mater. Than quod he: by my iud_gmente, he t_hat ought[14] the shetes shulde haue the rynge. Than quod they: and _for your_ good iudgement you shall haue the rynge.

¶ _Of the scoler that gave his shoes to cloute._ vi.

¶ In the Uniuersyte of Oxeforde there was a scoler that delyted moche to speke eloquente englyssshe and curious termes, and came to the cobler with his shoes whyche were pyked before (as they used that tyme), to have them clouted, and sayde this wyse: Cobler, I praye the sette _two try_angyls and two semycercles vpon my subpedytales, and I shall _paye_ the for thy laboure. The cobeler, because he vnderstoode hym nat halfe, answered shortely and sayde: syr, your eloquence passeth myne intelly_gence_. But I promyse you, yf he meddyll with me the clowtynge of youre _shoon_ shall cost you thre pens.

By this tale men may lerne, that it is foly to study to speke eloquently before them, that be rude and vnlerned.

¶ _Of hym that said that a womans tongue was lightest of digestion._ vii.

¶ A certayn artificer in London there was, whyche was sore _seke and_ coulde not well dysgest his meat. To whom a physicyon ca_m to give_ hym councell, and sayd that he must vse to ete metis that be light _of dig_estyon and small byrdys, as sparowes, swalowes, and specyally that byrd _which is_ called a wagtayle, whose flessh is meruelouse lyght of dygestyon, _bycause that_ byrd is euer mouying and styryng. The sekeman, herynge the phesicion _say so_, answered hym and seyd: sir, yf that be the cause that those byrdes be lyght of dygestyon, than I know a mete moch lyghter of dygestyon than other[15] sparow swallow or wagtaile, and that is my wyues tong, for it is neuer in rest but euer meuying[16] and sterryng.

By this tale ye may lerne a good generall rule of physyke.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] Owned. In _Northward Hoe_, 1607, by Decker and Webster, act i. scene i., the writers have made use of this story. See Websters' Works, edit. Hazlitt, i. 178-9.

¶ _Of the woman that followed her fourth husbands bere and wept._ viii.

¶ A woman there was which had had iiii husbandys. It fourtuned also that this fourth husbande dyed and was brought to chyrche vpon the bere; whom this woman folowed and made great mone, and waxed very sory, in so moche that her neyghbours thought she wolde swown and dye for sorow. Wherfore one of her gosseps cam to her, and spake to her in her ere, and bad her, for Godds sake, comfort her self and refrayne that lamentacion, or ellys it wold hurt her and perauenture put her in ieopardy of her life. To whom this woman answeryd and sayd: I wys, good gosyp, I haue grete cause to morne, if ye knew all. For I haue beryed iii husbandes besyde this man; but I was neuer in the case that I am now. For there was not one of them but when that I folowed the corse to chyrch, yet I was sure of an nother husband, before the corse cam out of my house, and now I am sure of no nother husband; and therfore ye may be sure I haue great cause to be sad and heuy.

By thys tale ye may se that the olde prouerbe ys trew, that it is as great pyte to se a woman wepe as a gose to go barefote.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] either.

[16] moving.

¶ _Of the woman that sayd her woer came too late._ ix.

¶ Another woman there was that knelyd at the mas of requiem, whyle the corse of her husbande lay on the bere in the chyrche. To whome a yonge man cam and spake wyth her in her ere, as thoughe it had ben for som mater concernyng the funerallys; howe be it he spake of no suche matter, but onely wowyd her that he myght be her husbande to whom she answered and sayde thus: syr, by my trouthe I am sory that ye come so late, for I am sped all redy. For I was made sure yesterday to another man.

By thys tale ye maye perceyue that women ofte tymes be wyse and lothe to lose any tyme.

¶ _Of the mylner with the golden thombe._[17] x.

¶ A marchaunt that thought to deride a mylner seyd vnto the mylner syttynge amonge company: sir, I haue harde say that euery trew mylner that tollyth trewlye hathe a gylden thombe. The myllner answeryd and sayde it was true. Than quod the marchant: I pray the let me se thy thombe; and when the mylner shewyd hys thombe the marchant sayd: I can not perceyue that thy thombe is gylt; but it is as all other mens thombes be. To whome the mylner answered and sayde: syr, treuthe it is that my thombe is gylt; but ye haue no power to se it: for there is a properte euer incydent _vnto it_, that he that is a cockolde shall neuer haue power to se it.[18]

¶ _Of the horseman of Irelande that prayde Oconer for to hange up the frere._ xi.

¶ One whiche was called Oconer, an Yrysshe lorde, toke an horsman prisoner that was one of hys great enmys whiche for any request or entrety that the horsman made gaue iugement that he sholde incontynent be hanged, and made a frere to shryue hym and bad hym make hem redy to dye. Thys frere that shroue him examyned hym of dyuers synnes, and asked him amonge other whiche were the gretteste synnes that euer he dyd. This horsman answered and sayd: one of the greatest actys that euer I dyd whiche I now most repent is that, whan I toke Oconer the last weke in a chyrche, and there I myght haue brennyd[19] hym chyrche and all, and because I had conscience and pyte of brennyng of the chyrche, I taryed the tyme so long, that Oconer escaped; and that same deferrynge of brennynge of the chyrche and so longe taryeng of that tyme is one of the worst actes that euer I dyd wherof I moste[20] repent. This frere perceuynge hym in that mynde sayde: peace in the name of God, and change thy mynde and dye in charite, or els thou shalt neuer come in heuen. Nay, quod the horsman, I wyll neuer chaunge that mynde what so euer shall come to my soule. Thys frere perceyuynge hym thus styl contynew his minde, cam to Oconer and sayde: syr, in the name of God, haue some pyte vppon this mannys sowle, and let hym not dye now, tyl he be in a beter mynde. For yf he dye now, he is so ferre out of cheryte, that vtterly his soule shall be dampned, and [he] shewyd hym what minde he was in and all the hole mater as is before shewyd. Thys horsman, herynge the frere thus intrete for hym, sayd to Oconer thus: Oconer, thou seest well by thys mannys reporte that, yf I dye now, I am out of charyte and not redy to go to heuen; and so it is that I am now out of charyte in dede; but thou seest well that this frere is a good man and he is now well dysposed and in charyte and he is redy to go to heuen, and so am not I. Therfore I pray the hang vp this frere, whyle that he is redy to go to heuen and let me tary tyl another tyme, that I may be in charyte and redy and mete to go to heuen. Thys Oconer, herying thys mad answere of hym, sparyd the man and forgaue hym hys lyfe at that season.

By thys ye may se, that he that is in danger of hys enmye that hath no pite, he can do no beter but shew to hym the vttermost of his malycyous mynde whych that he beryth to ward hym.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] See Brand's _Popular Antiquities_, edit. 1849, iii. 387.

[18] The reverse of the Somersetshire saying. The proverb is well known: "An honest miller hath a golden thumb;" but to this the Somersetshire folks add, "none but a cuckold can see it."

[19] Burned.

[20] orig. reads _muste_.

¶ _Of the preest that sayd nother corpus meus nor corpus meum._ xii.

¶ The archdekyn of Essex[21] that had ben longe in auctorite, in a tyme of vysytacyon, whan all the prestys apperyd before hym, called asyde iii of the yonge prestys which were acusyd that thy could not wel say theyr dyvyne seruyce, and askyd of them when they sayd mas, whether they sayd corpus meus or corpum meum. The fyrst prest sayde that he sayd corpus meus. The second sayd that he sayd corpum meum. And than he asked of the thyrd how he sayde; whyche answered and sayd thus: syr, because it is so great a dout and dyuers men be in dyuers opynyons: therfore because I wolde be sure I wolde not offende, whan I come to the place I leue it clene out and say nothynge therfore. Wherfore the bysshoppe than openly rebuked them all thre. But dyuers that were present thought more defaut in hym, because he hym selfe beforetyme had admytted them to be prestys.

By this tale ye may se that one ought to take hede how he rebukyth an other lest it torne moste to his owne rebuke.

FOOTNOTES:

[21] Richard Rawson was Archdeacon of Essex from 1503 to 1543, and was perhaps the person here intended. See Le Neve's _Fasti_, ed. Hardy, ii. 336.

¶ _Of two freres whereof the one loued nat the ele heed nor the other the tayle._ xiii.

¶ Two freres satte at a gentylmans tabyll, whiche had before hym on a fastyng day an ele and cut the hed of the ele and layd it vpon one of the frerys trenchars; but the frere, bycause he wold haue had of the middle parte of the ele, sayd to the gentylman he louyd no ele hedes. Thys gentylman also cut the tayle of the ele, and layde it on the other frerys trenchar. He lyke wyse, because he wolde haue had of the myddle parte of the ele, sayde he loued no ele tayles. This gentylman, perceuynge that, gaue the tayle to hym that sayd he louyd not the hed, and gaue the hed to hym that sayd he loued not the tayle. And as fore the myddell part of the ele, he ete parte hym selfe and parte he gaue to other folke at the table; wherfore these freres for anger wolde ete neuer a morsell, and so they for al theyr craft and subtylte were not only deceyued of the best morsell of the ele, but thereof had no parte at all.

By this ye se that they that couet the best parte somtyme therfore lese the meane parte and all.

¶ _Of the welche man that shroue hym for brekynge of hys faste on the fryday._ xiv.

¶ A Welcheman, dwellynge in a wylde place of Walys, cam to hys curate in the tyme of Lente and was confessyd; and when hys confessyon was in maner at the end, the curate askyd hym, and[22] he had any other thyng to say that greuyd his conscience. Which sore abasshid answered no worde a great whyle; at last by exhortacyon of his goostly fader he sayde that there was one thyng in his mynde that greatly greued his conscyence, which he was asshamed to vtter: for it was so greuous that he trowed God wold neuer forgyue hym. To whom the curate answerd and sayd, that Goddes mercy was aboue all, and bad hym not dyspayre in the mercy of God. For what so euer it was, yf he were repentant, that God wolde forgyue hym. ¶ And so by longe exortacyon at the last he shewyd it and seyde thus. Syr, it happenyd ones that, as my wyfe was makynge a chese vpon a Fryday, I wolde fayne haue sayed whether it had ben salt or fresshe, and toke a lytyll of the whey in my hande, and put it in my mouthe; and or[23] I was ware, parte of it went downe my throte agaynst my wyll and so I brake my faste. To whom the curate sayde: and if there be non other thynge, I warant God shall forgyue the. So whan he had well comforted hym with the mercy of God, the curate prayed hym to answere a questyon and to tell hym trueth; and when the welchman had promysed to tell the truth, the curate sayd that there were robberyes and murders done nye the place where he dwelte and diuers men found slayn; and asked hym whether _he knew ought_ poyntynge[24] to any of them. To whom he answeryd and sayd yes and sayd _he had ben priuye_ to many of them, and dyd helpe to robe and to slee dyuers of them. _Then the_ curate asked hym, why he dyd not conffesse hym therof. The Welshman _answeryd_ and sayde he toke that for no synne: for it was a custome amongest _them that_, when any boty cam of any ryche merchant rydyng, that it was but a _trewe_ neyboure dede one to help another when one callyd another; and so they _held it_ but for good felowshyp and neyghbourhood.

_Here_ maye ye se that some haue remorse of conscyence of small venyall _sinnis and_ fere not to do gret offencys without shame of the worled[25] or drede of _God_; and, as the comon prouerbe is, they stumble at a strawe and lepe ouer a blocke.

FOOTNOTES:

[22] if.

[23] before.

[24] appertaining or relevant.

[25] World.

¶ _Of the merchaunte of London that dyd put nobles in his mouthe in hys dethe bedde._ xv.

¶ A ryche couetous marchant there was that dwellid in London, which euer gaderyd mony and could neuer fynd in hys hert to spend ought _vpon_ hym selfe nor vpon no man els. Whiche fell sore syke, and as he laye on hys deth bed had his purs lyenge at his beddys hede, and [he] had suche a loue to his money that he put his hande in his purs, and toke out therof x or xii li. in nobles and put them in his mouth. And because his wyfe and other perceyued hym very syke and lyke to dye, they exortyd hym to be confessyd, and brought the curate vnto hym. Which when they had caused him to say Benedicite, the curate bad hym crye God mercy and shewe to hym his synnes. Than this seyck man began to sey: I crey God mercy I haue offendyd in the vii dedly synnes and broken the x commaundementes; but[26] because of the gold in his mouth he muffled so in his speche, that the curate could not well vnderstande hym: wherfore the curat askyd hym, what he had in his mouthe that letted his spech. I wys, mayster parsone, quod the syke man, muffelynge, I haue nothyng in my mouthe but a lyttle money; bycause I wot not whither[27] I shal go, I thought I wold take some spendynge money with me: for I wot not what nede I shall haue therof; and incontynent after that sayeng dyed, before he was confessyd or repentant that any man coulde perceyue, and so by lyklyhod went to the deuyll.

By this tale ye may se, that they that all theyr lyues wyll neuer do charyte to theyr neghbours, that God in tyme of theyr dethe wyll not suffre them to haue grace of repentaunce.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] Orig. reads _and_: _but_ seems to be required.

¶ _Of the mylner that stale the nuttes of the tayler that stale a shepe._ xvi.