Chapter VII: Part 7

¶ Ther dwelled a man in Chesshyre called Eulyn, whiche vsed to go to the towne many tymes; and there he wolde sytte drynkyng tyl xii of the clocke at nyghte, and than go home. So on a tyme he caryed a lyttell boye his sonne on his shulder with him, and whan the chylde fell a slepe about ix of the clocke, the ale wyfe brought him to bed with her chyldren. At mydnyghte Eulyn wente home, and thought no more of his chylde. As sone as he came home, his wyfe asked for her chyld. Whan she spake of the chylde, he loked on his shulder; and whan he sawe he was not ther, he said he wist nat where he was. Out vpon the, horson (quod she), thou hast let mi child fal in to the water (for he passed ouer the water of Dee at a brige). Thou list,[278] hore (quod he): for if he had fallen into the water, I shuld haue hard him plump.

¶ _Of him that desired to be set vpon the pillori._ xcv.

¶ There were iii loytteringe felowes fell in companye on a tyme, the whiche wente so longe to gether tylle all theyr money was spente. Whan their money was gone, one of them sayd: what shal we do now? By my faith (quod an other), if I might come where preace of people were, I coulde get moneye inough for vs. And I (quod the iii) can assemble people to gether lyghtly. So whan they came in to a lyttelle towne, where a newe pillory was sette vp, he, that sayde he coude lyghtly assemble people to gether, went to the bayly of the towne whiche was a boucher, and desyred him, that he wolde gyue him leaue to haue the maidenheed of the pyllory. Whiche requeste at the fyrste abasshed the bayllye: for he wyst not what he mente therby; wherfore he toke counsayle of his neighbours, what was best to do, and they bade him set vp the knaue, and spare nat. So whan he was on the pillorye, he loked aboute, and sawe his ii felowes busy in the holes of the bouchers aprons, where thei vsed to put theyr money. Than he said: ther now, go to a pace. The people gaped vp styll and laughed; and whan he saw that his felowes had sped their maters, and were going away, he said to the peple: now turne the pilori ones about, and than I wyl com downe. So they laughing hartily did. Whan the felow was com downe from the pyllory, the baylie sayde to hym: by my faythe, thou arte a good felowe, and by cause thou haste made vs so good sporte, holde I wyll gyue the a grote to drynke, and so putte his hande in the hole of his apron. But there he founde neuer a penye. Cockes[279] armes! (quod the bayllye) my pourse is pycked, and my moneye is gone. Syr (quod the felowe), I truste ye wyll beare me recorde, that I haue hit nat. No, by the masse, quod he, thou were on the pyllorie the whyle. Than, no force, quod the felow, and wente his waye.

FOOTNOTES:

[278] Liest.

[279] (?) God's alms. Browne calls this a _dunghill_ oath:--

"With that the _Miller_ laughing brush'd his cloathes, Then swore by Cocke and other dung-hill oathes."

_Britannias Pastorals_, lib. i. p. 100 (ed. 1625).

It is very commonly found in the early dramatists, and long before the statute of James the First, _By cock_ and similar phrases were used, in order to evade the charge of profaning the name of the Deity. It is of particularly frequent occurrence in Skelton's _Magnyfycence_:--

"_Cr_[afty] _Con_[veyance]. Cockes armes, thou shalt kepe the brewhouse boule.

_Fol_[ye]. But may I drynke thereof whylest that I stare?"

_Magnyfycence_ (Skelton's Works, ed. Dyce, i. 268).

But this writer seems to have employed it rather fantastically than from any desire to soften the oath; for elsewhere in the same piece we find _By God, Goddes fote_, &c. The practice of swearing had grown to such a pitch in the time of Taylor the Water-Poet, that that writer says (_Against Cursing and Swearing_, Works, 1630, i. 50):--"If the penalty of twelve pence for every oath had been duly paid (as the statute hath in that case provided) I doe verily beleeve that all the coyned money in England would have been forfeited that way." Whitford, in his _Werke for Housholders_, first printed about 1528 (edit. 1533, sign. c. ii et seqq.), relates several remarkable judgments as having fallen, within his personal knowledge, on profane swearers, who were as plentiful and as reckless in the time of Henry VIII. as they were a century later.

¶ _Of the wydowes daughter that was sent to the abbot with a couple of capons._ xcvi.

¶ There was an abbot that had a wydowe to his tenant, which wydow on a tyme sent her doughter with a couple of capons to the abbotte. And whan the mayden came with her present, she founde the abbot syttyng at dyner, to whom she sayd: moch good dutte[280] the, my lorde! Ha! welcome, mayden, quod he. My lorde (quod she), my mother hath sent the here a couple of capons. God a mercy,[281] mayden, quod he. And so he made her to be sette downe atte his owne table to eate some meate. Amonge other meates, the abbotte had than a grene goose with sorell sauce, wherof he dyd eate. So one, that sat at the abbottes tables, gaue the rompe of the goose to the mayde to picke theron. She toke the rompe in her hande, and bycause she sawe the abbot and other wete their meate in the sorell sauce, she sayde: my lorde, I pray the gyue me leue to wete myn rompe in thy grene sauce.

FOOTNOTES:

[280] Do it.

¶ _Of the two men, that dranke a pynte of whyte wyne to gether._ xcvii.

¶ There came two homely men of the countreye in to a tauerne on a tyme to drinke a pynte of wine. So they satte stylle, and wyste not what wyne to calle for. At last, herynge euerye man call for white wyne as clere as water of the rocke, they bad the drawer brynge them a pynte of whyte wyne as clere as water of the rocke. The drawer, seyng and perceyuyng by their wordes that they were but blont felowes, he brought them a pinte of clere water. The one of them fylled the cuppe, and dranke to his felow, and sayd: holde, neighbour, by masse, chadde[282] as lefe drynke water, saue only for the name of wyne.[283]

FOOTNOTES:

[281] God thank you.

[282] _i.e._ I had.

[283] The beverage of which these persons are here supposed to partake was probably what, in Charles the First's time, was called _white wine_; which, if diluted, as was no doubt very commonly done, would present a very watery aspect. A very curious account of the wines in vogue during the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. is given by Taylor the Water-Poet in his _Praise of Hempseed_. Cartwright, in his _Ordinary_, has the following passage, describing the various sorts of wine used in his day:--

"_Hearsay._ Thou hast forgotten Wine, Lieutenant, wine.

_Slicer._ Then to avoid the grosse absurdity Of a dry Battel, 'cause there must some bloud Be spilt (on th' enemies side, I mean) you may Have there a Rundlet of brisk Claret, and As much of Aligant, the same quantitie Of Tent would not be wanting, 'tis a wine Most like to bloud. Some shall bleed fainter colours, As Sack, and white wine. Some that have the itch (As there are Taylors still in every Army) Shall run with Renish, that hath Brimstone in't."

_Aligant_ mentioned in this extract was the wine grown in Alicante, a province of the ancient Kingdom of Valencia. Sometimes it was spelled Aligaunt or Aligaunte:--

"_Pseud._ In Ganges Iles I thirty rivers saw Fill'd with sweet nectar.

_Lach._ O dainty lyer!

_Pseud._ Thirty rivers more With Aligaunte."

_Timon_, a Play, p. 39.

In the _Privy Purse Expenses of Henry VIII._, under date of Feb. 16, 1530, occurs the following item:--"Paied to the S'geant of the Sello' for iii tonne of white wyne of galiake (Gaillac in Languedoc)." See also _the Northumberland House-Hold Book_, ed. 1827, p. 414; and Taylor's _Penniless Pilgrimage_, 1618 (_Works_, 1630, i. 136).

¶ _Of the doctour that went with the fouler to catche byrdes._ xcviii.

¶ There was a doctour on a tyme, whiche desired a fouler, that went to catche byrdes with an owle, that he might go with hym. The byrder was content, and dressed hym with bowes, and set hym by his oule, and bad hym say nothynge. Whan he saw the byrdes alyght a pace, he sayde: there be many byrdes alyghted, drawe thy nettes; where with the byrdes flewe awaye. The byrder was very angry, and blamed him greatly for his speakyng. Than he promysed to hold his peace. Whan the byrder was in agayn, and many byrdes were alyghted, mayster doctour said in latyn: _aves permultæ adsunt_; wherwith the byrdes flewe away. The byrder came out ryghte angrye and sore displeased, and sayde, that by his bablynge he had twyse loste his pray.[284] Why, thynkest thou, foole (quod the doctour), that the birdes do vnderstand latin? This doctour thought that the vnderstandynge, and nat the noyse, hadde feared awaye the byrdes.

FOOTNOTES:

[284] "He that will take the bird, must not skare it."--Herbert's _Outlandish Proverbs_, 1640, No. 41.

¶ _Of hym that vndertoke to teache an asse to rede._ xcix.

¶ There was a certayne tyran,[285] the which, to pylle one of his subiectes of his goodes, commaunded hym to teache an asse to spelle and rede. He sayd it was impossible, except he might haue space inough therto. And whan the tyran bade hym aske what tyme he wolde, he desyred x yeres respite. But yet, bycause he vndertoke a thynge impossible, euerye bodye laughed hym to scorne. He tourned towarde his frendes and sayde: I am nothynge affrayde: for in that space, either I, the asse, or elles my lorde may dye.

By whiche tale appereth, that it is holsome to take leyser inough aboute a thynge that is harde to do, specially whanne a man can nat chose to take hit on hande.[286]

FOOTNOTES:

[285] This word, which frequently occurs in the course of the present work, must be understood to be merely equivalent to the Greek [Greek: tyrannos], a prince whose authority is unlimited by constitutional restraints. There seems to be some ground for the supposition that [Greek: tyrannos] is nothing more than the Doric form of [Greek: koipanos]. It may be mentioned that in middle-Greek the word _despota_ ([Greek: despotês]) bore no harsher meaning than that of a _petty prince_, acting independently, but acknowledging a suzerain. It is to be found in this sense, I think, in almost all the Byzantine historians.

[286] _i.e._ when the undertaking is no matter of choice.

¶ _Of the fryer that confessed the woman._[287] c.

¶ As a fayre yong woman of the towne of Amilie confessed her to a friere, he beganne to burne so in concupiscence of the flesshe, that he entyced her to consente to his wylle. And they agreed, that she shulde feyne her selfe sycke, and sende for hym to shryue her. Within iij dayes after, she feyned her selfe sycke, and laye downe in her bedde, and sente for the same fryere to shryue her. Whan the friere was come, and euery body voided out of the chambre, he went to bedde to the woman, and there laye a longe space with her. Her husbande, suspectyng so longe a confession, came in to the chaumbre; whose sodayne comynge so sore abasshed the fryer, that he went his way and lefte his breche behynde him lyenge on the bedde. Whan her husbande sawe the breche, he sayd a loude, this was nat a frier, but an aduouterer; and for great abbomination of the dede he called all his householde to se hit. And forthe with he went and complayned to the warden of that couent, and thretned to slee hym that had done the dede. The wardyen, to appease his anger, sayde, that suche publysshynge was to the shame of hym and his householde. The man said, the breche was so openly founde, that he coude nat hyde it. The warden to remedy the matter sayde, it was saynt Fraunces' breche, an holy relyke that his brother caryed thither for the womans helth, and that he and his couent wolde come and fetche hit home with procession. With those wordes the man was contente. Anone the warden and his frieres, with the crosse before them, and arayed in holye vestementes, went to the house and toke vppe the breche; and two of them, on a clothe of sylke, bare it solemlye on hyghe betwene theyr handes, and euerye bodye that mette them kneled downe and kyssed it. So, with great ceremony and songe, they brought it home to their couente. But after, whanne this was knowen, ambassadoures of the same citie wente and complayned therof before the Holy See Apostolyke.

FOOTNOTES:

[287] This is a very favourite tale with the early Italian novelists. In Dunlop's _History of Fiction_, ii. 364-5 (Second Edition), the incident is said to have been founded on a real adventure of a French priest. In the following extract from a highly curious pamphlet, it appears in a different form:--

"There was a rich Burgess of Antwerp, a Mercer by his trade, who was a Bawd to his own Wife (though it was against his will or knowledge), but I blame him not, for I doubt hee hath many more fellowes as innocent and ignorant as himselfe, but this was the case, his wife wearing corke shooes, was somewhat light-heel'd, and like a foul player at Irish, sometimes she would beare a man too many, and now and then make a wrong Entrance. The summe was, that shee lov'd a Doctor of Physicke well, and to attaine his company shee knew no better or safer way, than to faine her selfe sicke, that hee under the colour of visitation might feele her pulses, and apply such cordiall Remedies as might either ease or cure her. In briefe, the Doctor being sent for, comes and finds the Mercer her husband walking in his shop with a neighbour of his, where after a leash of _Congees_, and a brace of _Baza los manus_, the Mercer told him that his Wife is a languishing sicke woman, and withall entreats him to take the paines to walke up the staires, and minister some comfort unto her: Master Doctor, who knew her disease by the Symptomes, ascends up into the Chamber to his longing patient, staying an houre with her, applying such directions and refections, that her health was upon the sudden almost halfe recovered; so taking his leave of her (with promise of often visitation) he comes downe into the shope, where the guiltlesse _Bawd_ her husband was, who demanding of the Doctor how all did above; truely quoth hee, much better than when I came, but since I went up, your wife hath had two such strange violent fits upon her, that it would have grieved your very heart to have seene but part of one of them."--Taylor's _Bawd_ (Works, 1630, ii. 94).

¶ _Howe a chaplen of Louen deceyued an vsurer._ ci.

¶ In the towne of Louen[288] was a chaplayne called Antonye, of whose merye sayenges and doynges is moche talkynge. As he mette on a daye one or two of his acqueyntaunce, he desyred them home with him to dyner: but meate had he none, nor money. There was no remedy but to make a shefte. Forth he goth, and in to an vserers kytchynne, with whome he was famylier; and priueilye vnder his gowne he caryed oute the potte with meate, that was sod[289] for the vsurers dyner. Whan he came home, he putte oute the meate, and made the pot to be scoured bryght, and sente a boye with the same pot to the vserer to borowe ii grotes theron, and bade the boye take a bylle of his hande, that suche a brasse potte be delyuered hym. The boy did as he was bydde; and with the money that he hadde of the vsurer, he bought wine for theyr dyner. Whan the vsurer shulde go to dyner, the potte and meate was gone, wherfore he alto chydde his mayde. She said there came no bodye of all the daye, but syr Antony.[290] They asked him, and he sayde he had none. At length, they sayde in erneste, he and no man els had the pot. By my fayth (quod he), I borowed suche a potte vpon a tyme, but I sente hit home agayne; and so called witnes to them, and sayde: lo, howe peryllous it is to deale with men nowe a dayes withoute wrytynge. They wolde lay thefte to my charge, an' if I had no wrytinge of the vsurers hande; and so he shewed oute the wrytinge. And whan they vnderstode the disceyte, there was good laughynge.

FOOTNOTES:

[288] Louvaine.

[289] Cooked.

¶ _Of the same chaplen and one that spited him._ cii.

¶ The same Antony dyned on a tyme with a sorte of merye felowes, amonge whome there was one that greatly spited[291] him in his scoffes and merye iestes. And as they sate laughynge and sporting, one asked whiche was the most reuerent part of mans bodye? One sayd the eie, an other the nose; but Antony, bycause he knew his enuyer wolde name the clene contrarye, sayde the mouth was the most reuerent parte. Naye, quod his enuyer, the parte that we sytte on is the moste reuerent; and bicause they meruayled whye, he made this reason, that he was moste honourable amonge the common people, that was fyrste sette; and the parte that he named was fyrste sette. Whiche sayenge contented them, and they laughed merelye. He was nat a littell proude of his sayenge, and that he hadde ouer come Antonye. This past forth. Four or fyue dayes after, they were bothe bydde to dyner in a nother place. Whan Antony cam in, he found his enuier, that sat talkynge with other, whyle the diner was makynge redy. Antony tourned his backe to him and lette a great ***** agaynst his face. His enuyer, greatlye disdayninge, sayde: walke knaue with a myschiefe, where hast thou ben nourtered? Why and dysdaynest thou, quod Antony? if I had saluted the with my mouthe, thou woldest haue saluted me agayne; and nowe I grete the with that parte of my body, that by thyn owne sayenge is moste honourable, thou callest me knaue.

Thus he got agayne his praise, that he hadde loste before.

FOOTNOTES:

[290] It is scarcely necessary to mention that formerly all priests were styled Sir. One of John Heywood's interludes is called: _A Play between Johan the Husband, Tyb the Wife, and Sir Johan the Prest_. In an old ballad in the Ashmole Collection, beginning, "Adew! my pretty pussy," there is this passage:--

"But the gyrld ys gon, syr, With a chokynge bon, syr, For she hath got Syr John, syr, And ys oure vyckars wyff."

[291] Thwarted, crossed.

¶ _Of the olde man that put him selfe in his sonnes handes._ ciii.

¶ There was a certayne olde man, whiche let his sonne to mary, and to brynge his wyfe and his chyldren to dwelle with him, and to take all the house in to his owne hande and gydinge. So a certeyne tyme the olde man was sette and kepte the vpper ende of the table; afterwarde they sette him lower, aboute the myddes of the table; thyrdely they set him at the nether ende of the table; fourthly he was set amonge the seruantes; fyfthly they made him a couche behynde the halle dore, and cast on him an olde sacke clothe. Nat longe after, the olde man died. Whan he was deed, the yonge mans sonne came to him and sayde: father, I prey you gyue me this olde sacke cloth, that was wonte to couer my graundfather. What woldest thou do with it, sayde his father? forsoth, sayd the chylde, it shall serue to couer you whan ye be olde, lyke as it did my grandfather;--at whiche wordes of the chylde this man ought to haue ben ashamed and sory. For it is wryten: sonne, reuerence and helpe thy father in his olde age, and make him not thoughtfull and heuy in his lyfe, and though he dote, forgyue it him. He that honoreth his father, shall lyue the longer, and shall reioyce in his owne chyldren.[292]

¶ _Of hym that had a flye peynted in his shilde._ ciiii.

¶ A yonge man, that on a tyme went a warfare, caused a flye to be peynted in his shylde, euen of the very greatnes of a flye; wherfore some laughed at him and sayde: ye do well, because ye wyll not be knowen. Yes, quod he, I do it because I wyll be knowen and spoken of. For I wyll approch so nere our enemys, that they shall well decerne what armes I beare.

Thus it, that was layde to him for a blame of cowardise, was by his sharpe wytte turned to a shewe of manlynes; and the noble and valiaunt Archidamus sayde: shotte of crossebowes, slynges, and suche lyke ingins of warre are no proffe of manhode; but whan they come and fyghte hande to hande, appereth who be men and who be not.

FOOTNOTES:

[292] The original of this is the Fabliau of _La Hence Partie_, in Barbazan's Collection. The story has been used by Lando, in his _Varii Componimenti_, 1552, 8vo.

¶ _Of th' emperour Augustus and the olde men._ cv.

¶ As the noble emperour Augustus on a time cam in to a bayne,[293] he behelde an olde man, that hadde done good seruice in the warres, frotte[294] him selfe a gaynste a marble pyller for lacke of one to helpe to wasshe him. Th' emperour, moued with pite, gaue an annuite to fynde hym and a seruaunt to wayte vpon him. Whan this was knowen, a great sorte of olde men drewe them to gether, and stode where as the emperour shulde passe forth by, euerye one of them rubbynge his owne backe with a marble stone. The emperour demaunded why they dyd so? Bycause, noble emperour, sayd they, we be not able to kepe seruantes to do it. Why, quod the emperour, one of you maye clawe and frote an others backe well inough.

¶ _Phocions oration to the Athen[ian]s._[295] cvi.

¶ Phocion on a daye, treatynge a longe oration to the people of Athenes, plesed them very wel; and whan he sawe that they all to gether allowed his wordes, he tourned to his frendes and sayd: haue I vnwarely spoken any hurte? So moche he perswaded hym selfe, that nothyng coude plese them that was well and truely spoken.

FOOTNOTES:

[293] Bath.

[294] Rub, from the French, _frotter_.

[295] Phocion, the celebrated Athenian patriot, b. 402 B.C. d. 317 B.C. Full particulars about him may be found in Mr. Grote's _History of Greece_, and in Dr. Smith's _Dictionary of Classical Biography_.

¶ _Of Demosthenes and Phocion._ cvii.

¶ Demosthenes sayde to Phocion: if the Atheniens falle ones in a madnes, they woll slee the. To whom he answered: ye, surely, if they waxe madde they woll slee me; but an' they waxe ones wyse, they wyll slee thee. For Demosthenes spake moche to the peoples pleasure, and spake thynges rather delytable than holsome.

¶ _Of Phocion that refused Alexanders gyfte._ cviii.

¶ What tyme Alexander, kynge of Macedone, sent an hundred besauntes of golde for a gyfte to Phocion, he asked them that brought the money, how it came that Alexander sent it to hym alone, seyng there were many other men in Athenes beside him. They answered: bycause he iugeth you alone to be an honest and a good man. Therfore, quod he, let hym suffre me to be taken to be suche one styll.[296]

Who wolde not wonder at the cleane and vncorrupt courage of this Phocion? He was but a poore man, and yet the greatnes of the gyft coude nothinge moue hym. Besyde also he shewed, that they the whiche, while they mynistre the common welthe, absteyne not from takyng of gyftes, neyther be nor ought not to be taken for good men.

FOOTNOTES:

[296] Orig. reads unnecessarily, _and to be such one styll_.

¶ _Of Denyse the tyranne and his sonne._ cix.

¶ What tyme Denyse the tyranne vnderstode that his sonne, that shulde reigne after hym, had commytted aduoutry with a worshypfull mans wyfe, angerly he sayde to hym: dyd I, thy father, euer suche a dede? The yonge man answered: no, ye had not a kynge to your father. Nor thou, sayde Denyse, art not lyke to haue a sonne a kynge, excepte thou leaue commyttynge of suche wyckedde dedes.

¶ _Of Pomponius the Romayne, that was brought before Mithridates._ cx.

¶ Pomponius, a noble man of Rome sore hurte and wounded, was taken and brought before Mithridates, whiche asked hym this questyon: if I cure and heale thy woundes, wylte thou than be my frende? He answered hym agayne thus: if thou wylte be a frende to the Romaynes, thou shalt than haue me thy frende.

This was a noble stomacke, that preferred the welth of his countrey before his owne helth.

¶ _Of Titus and the iester._ cxi.

¶ Suetonius sheweth that Titus the father prouoked a scoffer, that stode iesting with euery body, that he shulde lyke wyse saye somewhat to hym. I woll, sayde the scoffer, after ye haue done youre easement. He iested at the emperours countinance; he loked alway as one that streyned hym selfe.

On suche a visaged man writeth Martiall:

_Utere lactucis, ac mollibus utere maluis._
_Nam faciem durum Phebe cacantis habes._

¶ _Of Scipio Nasica and Ennius the poete._[297] cxii.

¶ Whan Scipio Nasica came on a tyme to speake with Ennius the Poete, he asked his mayde at the dore, if he were within; and she sayde, he was not at home. But Nasica perceyued, that her mayster badde her say so, and that he was within; but, for that tyme dissemblynge the matter, he wente his waye. Within a fewe dayes after, Ennius came to Nasica, and knockynge at the dore, asked if he were within. Nasica hym selfe spake oute a loude and sayd, he was not at home. Than sayde Ennius: what, manne, thynke you that I knowe not your voyce? Wherevnto Nasica aunsweredde and sayde: what a dishoneste man be you? Whan I sought you, I beleued your mayde, that sayde ye were not at home, and ye wyll not beleue me myn owne selfe.

FOOTNOTES:

[297] The celebrated Latin poet. "Quintus Ennius," Gellius tells us (_N. A._ lib. xvii. cap. 17), "said he had three hearts, because he understood the Greek, Oscan, and Latin languages."

¶ _Of Fabius Minutius and his sonne._ cxiii.

¶ Fabius Minutius was of his sonne exhorted on a tyme to gette and conquere a place that was mete for them, and to theyr great auauntage, the whiche thynge he sayde, they myght do with the losse of a fewe men. Wyll ye be one of those fewe, sayde Fabius to his sonne?

Therby shewynge, that it is a poynt of a good capiteyne to care for the lest of his souldiours, and to saue them as nere as he can.[298]

Th' emperour Antoni[n]us Pius loued moche this sentence of Scipio, whiche wolde ofte saye: I hadde leauer saue one citezen, thanne slee a thousande ennemyes.

FOOTNOTES:

[298] Orig. reads _coude_.

¶ _Of Aurelian, that was displeased, bycause the cite Tyna was closed agaynst hym._ cxiiii.

¶ What tyme the emperour Aurelian came to the cytie Tyana, he founde hit closed agaynste hym; wherfore all angerly he sayde: I woll not leaue a dogge a lyue in this towne;--whiche wordes reioyced moche his menne of warre, by cause of the great praye and botye that they thoughte to wynne there. One of the citezins, called Heradamon, for feare lest he shuld be slayne amonge the other, betrayed the cyte. Whan Aurelian had taken the cite, the fyrste thinge he dyd, he slewe Heradamon the traytour to his contrey; and to his souldiors that came to hym and desyred, that they myght accordynge to his promyse, ouerren and spoile the cyte, he answered: go to, I sayde I wolde nat leaue a dogge a lyue; spare nat, kyll al the dogges in the towne.

By this meane the gentyl prince rewarded
the traytoure accordinge to his
deseruinge, and dispointed
the couetise of his
souldyours.[299]

FOOTNOTES:

[299] So far extends Berthelet's edition, of which the colophon is: Imprinted at London in Flete Strete in the house of Thomas Berthelet nere to the Cundite, at the sygne of Lucrece. ¶ Cum priuilegio. The remaining 26 tales are from the Ed. of 1567.

¶ _Of the Nunne forced that durst not crie._ cxv.

¶ A certayne Nunne with swellyng of hir bealie was bewrayed to haue companied with a man. And beyng called before the couente, was right sharpely rebuked by the Abbesse, for puttinge of their house to so great a shame. She, to excuse hir-selfe, sayde, she was forced by a yonge man, that came into hir bedde chaumbre, agaynst whom (beynge stronger than she) it was in vain for hir to striue, and force coulde not be imputed to hir for a cryme. Then sayde the Abbesse: thou mought est haue bene helde excused, if thou haddest cryed. The Nunne sayed: so woulde I haue doone, had it not beene in our Dortour[300] where to crye is contrary to our Religion.

¶ _Of him that sayde he was the Diuelles man._ cxvi.

¶ In the ciuile seditious time of Edwarde the fourth and Henry the syxte,[301] one chaunced to mete with a company, that quickly asked him: whose man art thou? Kinge Edwardes, quoth he. Art thou so (quoth they)? and all [set] to beate him: For they were of Henrie's syde. Wherefore to the nexte company that mette him and demaunded whose man he was, he answered: kyng Henries. Art thou so (quoth they), and likewyse all [set] to bete him. For they were on Edwardes parte. The Felow, thus sore beaten, went foorth, and met with another route, who asked him: whose man art thou? He, beynge at his wittes ende what to saye, aunswered: the Dyuelles man. Than the dyuell goe[302] with thee (saide they). Amen (quoth he): For it is the best maister that I [have] serued this daie.

By this tale ye maye perceiue, how greuouse and perillous all ciuyle sedicions be, so doubtfull may it stand, that a man can not tel on which side to holde. For he that now is stronger, another tyme is weaker, as Fortune list to turne hir wheele.

FOOTNOTES:

[300] Dormitory.

[301] During the Wars of the Roses. In _The First Part of Edward IV._, by Thomas Heywoud, 1600 (Shakesp. Soc. repr. p. 41), Hobs, the Tanner of Tamworth, says:--

"By my troth, I know not, when I speak treason, when I do not. There's such halting betwixt two kings, that a man cannot go upright, but he shall offend t'one of them. I would God had them both, for me."

¶ _Of the vplandishe[303] priest, that preached of Charitie._ cxvii.

¶ A priest in the countrey, not the wysest nor the best learned, preached to his parisheners of charitie so vehemently, that he sayed plainely, that it was impossible for anye man to be saued or to come to heauen without charitie, except onely the kynges grace, God saue hym.

FOOTNOTES:

[302] This word is in the original text printed twice by an oversight. I have struck out the duplicate.

[303] _i.e._ a person dwelling in the uplands or mountainous districts where the learning of the cities had not very deeply penetrated. Hence the word became synonymous with ignorant and uninformed. Alexander Barclay's fifth eclogue is "Of the Citizen and Uplandish Man." The poem of _Jack Upland_ is printed in the old editions of Chaucer and in Wright's _Political Poems and Songs_, 1861, ii. 16. Mr. Wright assigns to it the date of 1401.

"He hath perus'd all the impressions Of Sonnets, since the fall of Lucifer, And made some scurvy quaint collections Of fustian phrases, and _uplandish_ words."

Heywood's _Fair Maid of the Exchange_, 1600.

¶ _Another sayinge of the same preest._ cxviii.

¶ Before the kynges Maiestyes commissioners sent[304] downe intoo the realme in visytacyon, it chaunced the forsayd preest among other to appere: to whom one of the vysytours (guessyng quickly what docter he was) sayde: Mayster parsone, howe spende you youre tyme? what rede you? Forsoothe, syr (sayd the preest), I occupy my selfe in readyng the New Testament. That is very well done (sayd the commissioner). But sir, I pray you, who made the newe Testament? That dyd (said the preest) kynge Henry the eyghte, God haue mercye vpon hys soule![305]

FOOTNOTES:

[304] Perhaps _went_ is the true reading.

[305] "What must he (the king) do then? He must be a student. He must write God's booke himselfe, not thinking because he is a king, but he hath licence to do what he will, as these worldly flatterers are wont to say."--_Latimer's Second Sermon before King Edward VI._ 1549.

¶ _Of the fryer that praysed sainct Frauncis._ cxix.

¶ A fryer, preachyng to the people, extolled saynct Frauncis aboue confessors, doctours, vyrgins, martyrs, prophetes, yea, and aboue one more than prophetes, John the Baptist, and finially aboue the Seraphicall order of angels ; and stil he sayd: yet let vs goe higher. So whan he could goe no further, exccpte he shoulde put Christe out of hys place, whiche the good man was halfe afrayed to do, hee sayd aloude: and yet we haue founde no fit place for hym. And staying a lyttell whyle, hee cryed out at laste, sayinge: Where shall we place this holy father? A frowarde felowe, standyng among the audeynce, saide: if thou canst find none other, than set hym here in my place: for I am weary. And so went his way.

¶ _Of hym that warned his wife of wasshynge her face in foule puddell water._ cxx.

¶ A man dwellyng in the countrey, takynge his iourney, bad hys wife in his absence playe the good husewyfe, that he at his home comyng[306] might finde all thynges well. Swete husbande (quoth she), commaunde what ye wyll, and you shall fynde me obedyense in al thynges. Dere heart (sayd he), I wil you no more but this one thynge, whiche is easye ynough to do. What is that (quoth she)? That you wasshe not your face wyth this water, shewing hir a puddell in a donghill, foule blacke, and stinkynge. As oft as she in his absence went by that puddell, hir mynde was meruallously moued, for what cause hir husebande so diligently warned hir of that thynge onely. Nor shee coulde not perswade hir selfe, but that there was some great thynge in it. To be brefe, it tempted hir so, that she wasshed, that is, she defiled hir face. She loked in the glasse, and was greatly displeased with hir self. Yea, and it was foure or fyue daies after, er shee coulde wasshe out the stynke and steinyng. Whan the good manne came home, hee found his wyfe very pensife and loking angerly. What is the matter (quoth he)? Shee at laste coulde not forbeare, but blamed him for warnyng hir to wasshe in that water, and shewed hym what had chaunced. Why wasshed you in it (quoth he)? I gaue you warnynge, that you shoulde not wasshe therein, to the intente this harme shoulde haue not happned.

By thys tale ye may perceyue, that the more yee forbydde some women a thynge, the greater desyre they haue to do it.

FOOTNOTES:

[306] _i.e._ coming home.

¶ _Of the husbandman that caused the iudge to geue sentence agaynst him selfe._ cxxi.

¶ An husbandman in Zeland came before the chiefe ruler of the countrey (whose bull had kyld the poore mans cow) and after he had leaue to speake, hee sayde: my bull leapyng ouer the dyche hath kyld your cow; what is the law? The ruler, mistrustyng no deceit, answered: thou muste paie for hir. Than with licence the poore man sayd: Sir, I failled in my tale: your bull hath kyld my cow. The ruler, beyng a little amoued, sayde: this is another matter. The poore man sayd: Verely it is all one thyng: and you haue truely iudged.

By this tale ye perceyue, that a wyse iudge wyll first know the cause well, and yet will not be hasty to geue sentence. The prouerbe biddeth thus: Iudge righteously the cause of the pore and needy.

¶ _Of the Italian friar that shoulde preach before the B. of Rome and his cardinals._ cxxii.

¶ A famous frier in Italye, called Robert Liciens,[307] appoincted to preache before the bishop of Rome and his cardynals beinge in the pulpit, and beholdyng the bishop and his cardinals, enter into the churche with so great pompe, noise, and rufflyng, that no king vse[d] the lyke, and seyng the bishop borne by vi men, and beynge at great leysure set downe, and harkenyng what he would saye, he sayd nought elles but this: Phy on S. Peter! phy on S. Paule! and with rauyng he spit now on the ryght side, and nowe on the left syde: and so, without more ado, shouyng through the preace,[308] gat hym awaie, leauyng them all astonied: some thynkyng hym to bee fallen into a furie: other supposyng him to bee fallen into some heresy, Iewishe or Paganise belefe, that he so burst out intoo suche blasphemies. And whan it was consulted to laie hym in prison, a cardinall, who knewe his wytte, and loued hym, perswaded, that he shoulde fyrste be called before the bishop and certayne cardinals, to here what he would saye. And so beyng inquired, why hee burste out into so horrible blasphemies, he answered, that he had appointed a farre other argument: and in fewe woordes declared the whole summe of hys sermon. But whan I (sayde he) sawe you lyue so pompously, and in so great delites and pleasures: and on th'other side consydered, howe homely, howe peyneful, and how harde a lyfe the Apostles ledde, whose places you supplie, I gathered, that eyther they were mad, that by so sharpe a waye contended to come to heauen, or els that you holde[309] the streight way to hell. But of you that beare the keyes of heauen, I could not perswade my self to deeme euill. Than what els could I do, but detest theyr foolyshnes whiche, whan thei might after this facion haue liued gloriously in all welth and pleasure, wold rather all their life turment them selfes with watchynges, fastynges and other peynfull labours?

FOOTNOTES:

[307] Better known as Roberto Caraccioli-Caraccioli. He was born in 1425 at Licio, in the Neapolitan territory, and was thence often called Robertus Liciensis. Watt (_Bibliotheca Britannica_, voce _Licio_) mentions only his sermons: but he published several other tracts.

[308] Usually spelt _prease_ or _prese_. The word signifies _crowd_. It occurs in this sense in Edwardes' _Damon and Pythias_, composed about 1564.

"Yet shall there no restraynt Cause me to cese, Among this prese, For to encrese Youre goodly name."

Skelton's _Garlande of Laurell_.

¶ _Of the doctour that sayd, in Erasmus workes were heresies._ cxxiii.

¶ A notable doctour, preachyng in a solemne audience, sayd, that in Erasmus workes were certayne heresies. Who, beyng come out of the pulpit, was desired of a learned man to shewe foorthe some place hereticall. Hee aunswered, that he had neuer red Erasmus bookes: hee began once to reade the woorke intitled _Moria_,[310] but by reason it was so high a stile, he feared to fal into some heresy.

FOOTNOTES:

[309] Orig. and Singer read _or els you to holde_.

¶ _Of the frier that preached at Paules crosse agaynst Erasmus._ cxxiv.

¶ A great clerke, noseld[311] vp in scoole doctours, not well vnderstanding the latin stile and phrase, that than began to florishe apase, and hauynge smale acquaintaunce with the noble authours of the latyne tongue, saide, that Erasmus, with his rhetorike and eloquence went about to corrupte the Byble. For this (quoth he) I dare be bolde to say: that the holy scripture ought not to be mingled with the eloquence of Tully, nor yet of Cicero.[312]

FOOTNOTES:

[310] The celebrated _Moria Encomium_, of which an English version appeared in 1549.

[311] _Nosled_ or _nousled_ is the same as _nursled_, brought up. See Todd's Johnson, 1827, in voce _nosled_; and Richardson's Dict. _ibid._ The word is not in Webster or Nares.

[312] The allusion in the text is probably to the paraphrastic version of the New Testament by Erasmus, which had then recently appeared in two volumes, folio (1516). The work did not appear in an English dress till 1548.

¶ _Of an other frier that taxed Erasmus for writyng Germana theologia._ cxxv.

¶ A fryer, that preached on a tyme too the people, inueighed greatly agaynste Erasmus, because he, in his booke called _Enchiridion_,[313] preysyng the Apostles doctryne, sayde, that theirs was _Germana theologia_, that is to saye in Englishe, the very ryght diuinitee. Lo (sayeth this dotishe fryer), here may ye see, what a man Erasmus is: he sayeth, there is no diuinite but in Germonie, where heretikes are specially fauored and maintayned.

¶ _Of an other that inueighed agaynst the same Erasmus._ cxxvi.

¶ Because Erasmus wrote, that it wer better for the monke of the charterhouse to eate fleshe than to suffer his brother _Venire in capitis discrimen_, that is to saye, than his brother should stand in ieoperdie of his life: this dotishe doctour interpretat his wordes thus: The charterhouse monke wer better eate fleshe, than his head shoulde a littell ake.[314]

By these tales we may se, what peuysshe preachers haue been in this world: And be thei neuer so foolishe: yet the ignorant people, lacking lerninge to iudge suche matters, thinke them selues well taught, when they be cleane misledde.

FOOTNOTES:

[313] _Enchiridion Militis Christiani._ An English translation of this work appeared in 1533, in which Enchiridion is rendered _The Handsome Weapon_.

[314] These pleasantries at the expense of the preachers in the time of Henry VIII. bear perhaps a little hard upon the fraternity. The rendering of Latin authors was not much improved a century or two later.

¶ _Of kyng Richarde the iii, and the Northern man._[315] cxxvii.

¶ After kyng Richard the iii had vsurped the crowne of England, he, to staye and stablishe the people, that sore murmured against his dooynges, sent for fyue thousand men out of the North partes vp to London: and as he was mustryng of them in Thickettes feelde, one of the souldiers, cam, and clappynge the kyng on the shoulder, said: Diccon, Diccon, by the mis, ays blith that thaust kyng![316]

FOOTNOTES:

[315] The Northern men seem to have been formerly favourite subjects for story tellers and ballad-writers. Martin Parker published a poem called "The King and a Poore Northern man," and there is a ballad entitled "The King and the Northern man." Neither has anything to do with the present tale. No. 95 of the _C. Mery Talys_, of which only a small fragment is at present known to exist, is entitled, "Of the Northern man that was all harte."

[316] "Richard, Richard, by the mass I am glad that thou art king!"

¶ _Of the Canon and his man._ cxxviii

¶ A canon in Hereforde, that kepte a good house, toke into his seruice a gentilmans sonne, to trane and bryng hym vp, to wayte and serue at the table.[317] So on a day the sayde canon, hauynge many strangers at his bourd, made a signe to his man, that there wanted some thyng. He, nought perceuyng, cam to his maister and sayde: Sir, what lacke you? Seest not, man (quoth he), they haue no bread on the table? Sir, saide his man, there was enough euen now, if they woulde haue let it alone.

¶ _Of the same Canon and his sayd man._ cxxix.

¶ The same Canon, an other tyme, bad his sayd seruant after supper, go downe and draw a cuppe of wyne, to make his guestes drinke at theyr departing, whom he had before taught, how he shuld take of the couer. So the yong man, bringyng the candell in one hand, and the cup of wine couered in the other, offred it vnto them. His mayster, seyng that, made a token to hym. He, not knowyng wherfore, sayd: Sir, what woulde you haue? Take of the couer (quoth his mayster). Then holde you the candell (saide the seruaunt).

FOOTNOTES:

[317] A very usual practice in those days. At p. 254 of the _Northumberland House-hold Book_ (ed. 1827) we find:--

"Two Gentlemen waiters for the Bordes Ende and a servaunt betwixt theim iii--Hannsmen and Yonge Gentlemen at their Fryndes fynding v (as to say Hanshmen [Henchmen] iii and yong Gentlemen iii)."

Orig. and Singer, for _trane_ read _trade_.

¶ _Of the gentilman that checked hys seruant for talke of ryngyng._ cxxx.

¶ A gentilman, brought vp at London in an In of court, was maryed, and kepte an house in the countrey: and as he sate at supper with his neyghbours aboute hym, vpon an alhalow-daie at night, amonge other communication, he talked of the solemne ringyng of the belles (as was the vsage than). His man, that waited on the table, sayd to his maister: sir, he that were this nyghte in London, shoulde here wonderfull ryngyng, and so began a tale. Hys mayster, not content with his talke, said: Hold thy peace, foole, wilt thou tel me of ringing in London? I know it (I trow) a lyttell better than thou. For I haue beene there an C alhalow nyghtes.

¶ _Of the blynde man and his boye._ cxxxi.

¶ A certayne poore blynde man[318] in the countrey was ledde by a curst boy to an house where a weddyng was: so the honest folkes gaue him meate, and at last one gaue hym a legge of a good fatte goose: whiche the boy receyuyng kept a syde, and did eate it vp hym selfe. Anon the blynde man saide: Iacke, where is the leg of the goose? What goose (quod the boy)? I haue none. Thou liest (quoth the blinde man), I dyd smell it. And so they wente forth chidyng together, tyll the shrewde boye led the poore man against a post: where hittyng his brow a great blow, he cryed out: A hoorson boy, what hast thou done? Why (quod the boy) could you not smell the post, that was so nere, as wel as the goose that was so farre from your nose?

¶ _Of him that sold two lodes of hey._ cxxxii.

¶ In London dwelled a mery pleasant man (whiche for [t]his tyme we may call Makeshift[319]) who, beyng arrayed somewhat haruest lyke, with a pytcheforke on his necke, went forth in a mornyng and mette with twoo lode of hey comeyng to the citieward, for the whiche he bargayned with the owners to paye xxx shillynges. Whyther shall we bring them, quoth thei? To the Swan in Longe Lane[320] by Smithfeeld (quoth he), and soo left them, and sped him thether the next[321] waye. Whan he came to the good man of the Swanne, he asked, if he would bye two good lodes of hey? Yes marie, sayde he. Where be thei? Euen here they come (quoth Makshyft). What shall I paye? sayde the inholder. Foure nobles (quoth hee): but at length they agreed to xx shilling. Whan the hey was come, Makshyft bad them vnlode. While they were doyng so,[322] he came to the inholder,[323] and said: sir, I prai you let me haue my monei: for, while my men be vnloding, I wil goe into the citee to buy a littell stuffe to haue home with me. The good man was content, and gaue it hym. And so he went his way. Whan the men had vnloded the hey, they came and demanded their money. To whom the inholder saide: I haue paid your maister. What master (quoth they)? Mary, quod he, the same man that made you bring the hey hether. We know hym not, quod they. No more doe I (quod he); that same man bargayned with me for the hey, and hym haue I payed: I neyther bought nor sold with you. That is not enough for vs, quod they; and thus thei stroue together. But what ende thei made, I know not. For I thynke Makeshift came not againe to agree them.

FOOTNOTES:

[318] Tricks upon blind persons naturally form a feature in the jest books. The eighty-third adventure of Tyl Owlglass is a practical joke on a blind man, and in _Scoggin's Jests_, 1626, there are one or two examples.

[319] A cheat or rogue. See Rowland's _Knave of Clubbs_, 1600 (Percy Soc. ed. p. 18). The word _Shifter_ is employed by Rowlands in the _Knave of Harts_, 1613, and by others of our elder writers in the same sense. In the following passage, shift is used to signify a piece of knavery:--

_"Ferd._ Brother, you lie; you got her with a _shift_.

_Frank._ I was the first that lov'd her."

Heywood's _Fair Maid of the Exchange_, 1607 (Shakesp. Soc. ed. p. 87).

See also Taylor's _Works_, 1630, ii. 144. In his _Sculler_, 1612, the last mentioned writer introduces a sharper into one of his epigrams under the name _of Mounsieur Shift_, "cozen-german to Sir Cuthert _Theft_" (_Works_, iii. 25).

[320] Antiently, no doubt, Long Lane ran between hedges into Smithfield; but it appears that even in the early part of Elizabeth's reign building had commenced in this locality. Stow (_Survey of London_, edit. 1720, lib. iii. p. 122) says:--"Long Lane, so called from its length, coming out of _Aldersgate Street_ against _Barbican_, and falleth into _West Smithfield_. A Place also of Note for the Sale of Apparel, Linnen, and Upholsters Goods, both Secondhand and New, but chiefly for old, for which it is of note." See also p. 284 of the same book, and Cunningham's _Hand Book of London_, edit. 1848, _in voce_, with the authorities and illustrations there given. Rowlands, in his _Letting of Humors Blood in the Head Vein_, 1611, Sign. C. 2 _verso_, celebrates this spot as one of the principal haunts of the pawnbrokers. In _Wits Recreations_, 1640 (edit. 1817, p. 109), there is the following epigram:--

"He which for 's wife a widow doth obtain, Doth like to those that buy clothes in _Long Lane_, One coat's not fit, another's too too old, Their faults I know not, but th' are manifold."

Day, in the _Parliament of Bees_, 1641, 40, Sign. C, speaks very disrespectfully of the population of Long Lane in his time. See _Maroccus Extaticus_, 1595 (Percy Soc. ed. p. 16), Dekker's _Knights' Conjuring_, 1607, ed. Rimbault, p. 54. Webster's Works, by Hazlitt, i. 94. and Taylor's Works, 1630, Sign. Ggg4. The _Swan_ Inn has disappeared, but whether it has merged in the _Barley Mow_, or the _Old Red Cow_, I do not know.

[321] Nearest.

[322] The original reading is, _so while they were doying_.

[323] Innkeeper. This form of the word continued to be used by English writers even in the later half of the seventeenth century.

¶ _How a mery man deuised to cal people to a playe._ cxxxiii.

¶ A Mery man, called Qualitees,[324] on a tyme sette vp billes vpon postes aboute London, that who so euer woulde come to Northumberlande Place[325] should here suche an antycke plaie[326] that, both for the mattier and handelyng, the lyke was neuer heard before. For all they that shoulde playe therin were gentilmen.