Chapter IV: Part 4

[P] There was a Gentleman, a verye friende of myne, rydyng from London homewarde into Kente, hauinge with in three myles of his house busynesse, alyghted of his horse, and his man also, in a pretye *[leaf 12]* vyllage, where diueres houses were, and looked about hym where he myghte haue a conuenient person to walke his horse, because hee would speake w_i_t_h_ a Farmer that dwelt on the backe side of the sayde village, lytle aboue a quarter of a myle from the place where he lighted, and had his man to waight vpon him, as it was mete for his callinge: espying a Pryggar there standing, thinking the same to dwell there, charging this prity prigginge person to walke his horse well, and that they might not stande styll for takyng of colde, and at his returne (which he saide should not be longe) he would geue hym a peny to drinke, and so wente aboute his busines. This peltynge Priggar, proude of his praye, walkethe his horse[80] vp and downe tyll he sawe the Gentleman out of sighte, and leapes him into the saddell, and awaye he goeth a mayne. This Gentleman returninge, and findinge not his horses, sent his man to the one end of the vyllage, and he went himselfe vnto the other ende, and enquired as he went for his horses that were walked, and began some what to suspecte, because neither he nor his man could se nor find him. Then this Gentleman deligentlye enquired of thre or foure towne dwellers there whether any such person, declaring his stature,[81] age, apparell, with so many linaments of his body as he could call to remembraunce. And, "vna voce," all sayde that no such man dwelt in their streate, neither in the parish, that they knewe of; but some did wel remember that such a one they saw there lyrkinge and huggeringe two houres before the Gentleman came thether, and a straunger to them. "I had thoughte," quoth this Gentleman, "he had here dwelled,"--and marched home manerly in his botes: farre from the place he dwelt not. I suppose at his comming home he sente suche wayes as he suspected or thought meete to searche for this Prigger, but hetherto he neuer harde any tydinges agayne of his palfreys.--I had the best geldinge stolen oute of my pasture that I had amongst others whyle this boke was first a printinge.

[Header: HARMAN. A PALLYARD.]

[P] A PALLYARD. Cap. 7.

THese Palliardes be called also Clapperdogens: these go with patched clokes, _and_ haue their Morts with them, which they cal wiues; and if he goe to one house, to aske his almes, his wife shall goe to a nother: for what they get (as bread, cheese, malte, and woll) they sell the same for redy money; for so they get more and if they went together. Although they be thus[82] deuided in the daie, yet they mete iompe at night. Yf they chaunce to come to some gentylmans house standinge *[leaf 12, back]* a lone, and be demaunded whether they be man and wyfe, _and_ if he perceaue that any doubteth thereof, he sheweth them a Testimonial with the ministers name, and others of the same parishe (naminge a parishe in some shere fare distant from the place where he sheweth the same). This writing he carieth to salue that sore. Ther be many Irishe men that goe about with cou_n_terfeate licenses; and if they perceiue you wil straytly examen them, they will immediatly saye they can speake no Englishe.

[P] Farther, vnderstand for trouth that the worst and wickedst of all this beastly generation are scarse comparable to these prating Pallyardes. All for _th_e most parte of these wil either lay to their legs an herb called Sperewort, eyther Arsnicke, which is called Ratesbane. The nature of this Spereworte wyll rayse a great blister in a night vpon the soundest part of his body; and if the same be taken away, it wyl dry vp againe and no harme. But this Arsnicke will so poyson the same legge or sore, that it will euer after be incurable: this do they for gaine and to be pitied. The most of these that walke about be Walchmen.

[Header: HARMAN. A FRATER.]

[P] A FRATER. Cap. 8.

SOme of these Fraters will cary blacke boxes at their gyrdel, wher in they haue a briefe of the Queenes maiesties letters patentes, geuen to suche[83] poore spitlehouse for the reliefe of _th_e poore there, whiche briefe is a coppie of the letters patentes, _and_ vtterly fained, if it be in paper or in[84] parchment without the great seale. Also, if the same brief be in printe,[85] it is also of auctoritie. For the Printers wil see _and_ wel vndersta_n_d, before it come in presse, that the same is lawfull. Also, I am credibly informed that the chiefe Proctors of manye of these houses, that seldome trauel abroad the_m_ selues, but haue their factors to gather for the_m_, which looke very slenderly to the impotent and miserable creatures committed to their charge, _and_ die for want of cherishing; wheras they _and_ their wiues are wel cra_m_med _and_ clothed, _and_ will haue of the best. And the founders of euery such house, or the chiefe of the parishe wher they be, woulde better see vnto these Proctors, that they might do their duty, they should be wel spoken of here, and in the world to come abou_n_dantly therefore rewarded. I had of late an honest man, and of good wealthe, repayred to my house to common wyth me aboute certeyne affaires. I inuited the same to dinner, and dinner beinge done, I demaunded of hym some newes of these[86] parties were hee dwelte. "Thankes be to God, syr," (saith he); "all is well _and_ good now." "Now!" (quoth I) "this same 'nowe' *[leaf 13]* declareth _tha_t some things of late hath not bene wel." "Yes, syr," (q_uoth_ he) "the[87] matter is not great. I had thought I should haue bene wel beaten within this seuenth night." "How so?" (quoth I). "Mary, syr," sayd he, "I am Counstable for fault of a better, and was commaunded by the Iusticer to watch. The watch being set, I toke an honest man, one of my neighbors, with me, and went vp to the ende of the towne as far as the spittle house, at which house I heard a great noyse, and, drawing nere, stode close vnder the wall, and this was at one of the clocke after midnight. Where he harde swearinge, pratinge, and wagers laying, and the pot apase walkinge, and xl. pence gaged vpon a matche of wrastling, pitching of the barre, and casting of the sledge. And out they goe, in a fustian fume, into the backe syde, where was a great Axiltrye,[88] and there fell to pitching of the barre, being thre to thre. The Moone dyd shine bright, the Counstable with his neighboure myght see and beholde all that was done. And howe the wyfe of the house was rostinge of a Pyg, whyle her gestes were in their matche. At the laste they coulde not agree vpon a caste, and fell at wordes, and from wordes to blowes. The Counstable with his[89] fellowe runnes vnto them, to parte them, and in the partinge lyckes a drye blowe or two. Then the noyse increased; the Counstable woulde haue had them to[90] the stockes. The wyfe of the house runnes out with her goodman to intreat the Counstable for her gestes, and leaues the Pyg at the fyre alone. In commeth two or three of the next neighboures, beinge waked wyth this noise, and into the house they come, and fynde none therein, but the Pygge well rosted, and carieth the same awaye wyth them, spyte and all, with suche breade and drinke also as stoode vpon the table. When the goodman and the goodwyfe of the house hadde intreated and pacified the Counstable, shewinge vnto him that they were Proctors and Factores all of Spyttell houses, and that they taryed there but to breake theyr fast, and woulde ryde awaye immediatelye after, for they had farre to goe, and therefore mente to ryde so earlye. And comminge into their house agayne, fyndinge the Pygge wyth bread and drincke all gonne, made a greate exclamation, for they knewe not who had the same.

[P] The Counstable returning and hearinge the lamentable wordes of the good wyfe, howe she had lost both meate and drinke, and sawe it was so in deede, hee laughed in his sleue, and commaunded her to dresse no more at vnlawfull houres for any gestes. For hee thought it better bestowed vppon those smell feastes his poore neighboures then vppon suche sturdye Lubbares. The nexte mornynge betymes the *[leaf 13, back]* spitte and pottes were sette at the Spittle house doore for the owner. Thus were these Factours begyled of theyr breakefast, and one of them hadde well beaten an other; "And, by my trouth," (quoth thys Counstable) "I was gladde when I was well ryd of them." "Why," quoth I, "coulde the[y] caste the barre and sledge well?" "I wyll tell you, syr," (quoth hee) "you knowe there hath bene manye games this Sommer. I thinke verely, that if some of these Lubbars had bene there, and practysed amongest others, I beleue they woulde haue carryed awaye the beste games. For they were so stronge and sturdye, that I was not able to stande in their handes." "Well" (quoth I) "at these games you speake of, both legges and armes bee tryed." "Yea," quoth this offycer, "they bee wycked men. I haue seene some of them sithens wyth cloutes bounde aboute theyr legges, and haltynge wyth their staffe in their handes. Wherefore some of theym, by GOD, bee nought all."

[Header: HARMAN. A ABRAHAM MAN.]

[P] A ABRAHAM MAN. Cap. 9.

THese Abrahom men be those that fayne themselues to haue beene mad, and haue bene kept eyther in Bethelem or in some other pryson a good tyme, _and_ not one amongst twenty that euer came in pryson for any such cause: yet wyll they saye howe pitiously and most extreamely they haue bene beaten, and dealt with all. Some of these be merye and verye pleasant, they wyll daunce and sing; some others be as colde and reasonable to talke wyth all. These begge money; eyther when they come at Farmours howses they wyll demaunde Baken, eyther cheese, or wooll, or any thinge that is worthe money. And if they espye small company within, they wyll with fierce countenau_n_ce demau_n_d some what. Where for feare the maydes wyll geue theym largely to be ryd of theym.

{[P] If they maye conuenyently come by any cheate, they wyl
{picke and steale, as the v[p]right man or Roge, poultrey or

lynnen. And all wemen that wander bee at their commaundemente. Of all that euer I saw of this kynde, one naminge him selfe Stradlynge is the craftiest and moste dyssemblyngest Knaue. Hee is able wyth hys tounge and vsage to deceaue and abuse the wysest man that is. And surely for the proporcion of his body, with euery member there vnto appertayninge, it cannot be a mended. But as the prouerbe is "God hath done his part." Thys Stradlyng sayth he was the Lord Sturtons man; and when he was executed, for very pensiuenes of mynde, *[leaf 14]* he fell out of his wytte, and so continued a yeare after and more; and that with the very greefe and feare, he was taken wyth a marueilous palsey, that both head and handes wyll shake when he talketh, with anye and that a pase or fast, where by he is much pytied, and getteth greately. And if I had not demaunded of others, bothe men and women, that commonly walketh as he doth, and knowen by them his deepe dissimylation, I neuer hadde vnderstand the same. And thus I end wyth these kynde of vacabondes.

[Header: HARMAN. A WHIPIACKE.]

[P] A FRESHE WATER MARINER OR WHIPIACKE. Cap. 10.

THese Freshwater Mariners, their shipes were drowned in the playne of Salisbery. These kynde of Caterpillers counterfet great losses on the sea; these bee some Western men, and most bee Irishe men. These wyll runne about the countrey wyth a counterfet lycence, fayninge either shypwracke, or spoyled by Pyrates, neare the coaste of Cornwall or Deuonshyre, and set a lande at some hauen towne there, hauynge a large and formall wrytinge, as is aboue sayd, with the names and seales of suche men of worshyppe, at the leaste foure or fiue, as dwelleth neare or next to the place where they fayne their landinge. And neare to those shieres wyll they not begge, vntyll they come into Wylshyre, Hamshyre, Barkeshyre, Oxfordshyre, Harfordshyre, Middelsex, and so[91] to London, and downe by the ryuer to seeke for their shyppe and goods that they neuer hade: then passe they through Surrey, Sossex, by the sea costes, and so into Kent, demaunding almes to bring them home to their country.

[P] Some tyme they counterfet the seale of the Admiraltie. I haue diuers tymes taken a waye from them their lycences, of both sortes, wyth suche money as they haue gathered, and haue confiscated the same to the pouerty nigh adioyninge to me. And they wyll not beelonge with out another. For at anye good towne they wyll renewe the same. Once wyth muche threatninge and faire promises, I required to knowe of one companye who made their lycence. And they sweare that they bought the same at Portsmouth, of a Mariner there, and it cost them[92] two shillinges; with such warrantes to be so good and efectuall, that if any of the best men of lawe, or learned, aboute London, should peruse the same, they weare able to fynde no faute there with, but would assuredly allow the same.

[Header: HARMAN. N. BLUNT, N. GENYNGES.]

*[leaf 14, back]*[93]

{=The co[=u]terfet Cranke=
{=Nicolas Genynges=]

These two pyctures, lyuely set out,
One bodye and soule, god send him more grace.
This mounstrous desembelar, a Cranke all about.
Vncomly couetinge, of eche to imbrace,
Money or wares, as he made his race.
And sometyme a marynar, and a saruinge man,
Or els an artificer, as he would fayne than.
Such shyftes he vsed, beinge well tryed,
A bandoninge labour, tyll he was espyed.
Conding punishment, for his dissimulation,
He sewerly receaued with much declination.[94]

[Header: HARMAN. A COUNTERFET CRANKE.]

*[leaf 15]* [P] A COUNTERFET CRANKE. Cap. 11.

THese that do counterfet the Cranke be yong knaues and yonge harlots, that depely dissemble the falling sicknes. For the Cranke in their language is the falling euyll. I haue seene some of these with fayre writinges testimoniall, with the names and seales of some men of worshyp in Shropshyre, and in other Shieres farre of, that I haue well knowne, and haue taken the same from them. Many of these do go without writinges, and wyll go halfe naked, and looke most pitiously. And if any clothes be geuen them, the[y][95] immediatly sell the same, for weare it they wyll not, because they would bee the more pitied, and weare fylthy clothes on their heades, and neuer go without a peece of whyte sope about them, which, if they see cause or present gaine, they wyll priuely conuey the same into their mouth, and so worke the same there, that they wyll fome as it were a Boore, _and_ maruelously for a tyme torment them selues; and thus deceiue they the common people, and gayne much. These haue commonly their harlots as the other.

Apon Alhollenday in the morning last Anno domini. 1566, or my[96] booke was halfe printed, I meane the first impression, there came earely in the morninge a Counterfet Cranke vnder my lodgynge at the whyte Fryares, wythin the cloyster, in a lyttle yard or coorte, where aboutes laye two or thre great Ladyes, beyng without the lyberties of London, where by he hoped for the greatter gayne; this Cranke there lamentably lamentinge and pitefully crying to be releued, declared to dyuers their hys paynfull and miserable dysease. I being rysen and not halfe ready, harde his dolfull wordes and rufull mornings, hering him name the falling sicknes, thought assuredlye to my selfe that hee was a depe desemblar; so, comminge out at a sodayne, and beholdinge his vgly and yrksome attyre, hys lothsome and horyble countinance, it made me in a meruelous parplexite what to thinke of hym, whether it were fayned or trouth,--for after this manner went he: he was naked from the wast vpward, sauyng he had a old Ierken[97] of leather patched, and that was lose[98] about hym, that all his bodye laye out bare; a filthy foule cloth he ware on his head, being cut for the purpose, hauing a narowe place to put out his face, with a bauer made to trusse vp his beard, and a stryng that tyed the same downe close aboute his necke; with an olde felt hat which he styll caried in his hande to receaue the charytye and deuotion of the people, for that woulde he hold out from hym; hauyng hys face, from the eyes downe ward, all smerd with freshe bloud, *[leaf 15, back]* as thoughe he had new falen, and byn tormented wyth his paynefull panges,--his Ierken beinge all be rayde with durte and myre, and hys hatte and hosen also, as thoughe hee hadde wallowed in the myre: sewerly the sighte was monstrous and terreble. I called hym vnto me, and demaunded of hym what he ayled. "A, good maister," quoth he, "I haue the greuous and paynefull dyseas called the falynge syckenes." "Why," quoth I, "howe commeth thy Ierken, hose, and hat so be rayd with durte and myre, and thy skyn also?" "A, good master, I fell downe on the backesyde here in the fowle lane harde by the watersyde; and there I laye all most all night, and haue bled all most all the bloude owte in my bodye." It raynde that morninge very fast; and whyle I was thus talkinge with hym, a honest poore woman that dwelt thereby brought hym a fayre lynnen cloth, and byd hym wype his face therewyth; and there beinge a tobbe standing full of rayne water, offered to geue hym some in a dishe that he might make hym selfe cleane: hee refuseth[99] the same. "Why dost thou so?" quoth I. "A, syr," sayth he, "yf I shoulde washe my selfe, I shoulde fall to bleedinge a freshe againe, and then I should not stop my selfe:" these wordes made me the more to suspecte hym.

Then I asked of hym where he was borne, what is name was, how longe he had this dysease, and what tyme he had ben here about London, and in what place. "Syr," saythe he, "I was borne at Leycestar, my name is Nycholas Genings,[100] and I haue had this falling sycknes viij. yeares, and I can get no remedy for the same; for I haue it by kinde, my father had it and my friendes before me; and I haue byne these two yeares here about London, and a yeare and a halfe in bethelem." "Why, wast thou out of thy wyttes?" quoth I. "Ye, syr, that I was."

"What is the Kepars name of the house?" "Hys name is," quoth hee, "Iohn Smith." "Then," quoth I, "hee must vnderstande of thy dysease; yf thou hadest the same for the tyme thou wast there, he knoweth it well." "Ye, not onely he, but all the house bee syde," quoth this Cranke; "for I came thens but within this fortnight." I had stande so longe reasoning the matter wyth him that I was a cold, and went into my chamber and made me ready, and commaunded my seruant to repayre to bethelem, and bringe me true worde from the keper there whether anye suche man hath byn with him as a prisoner hauinge the dysease aforesayd, and gaue hym a note of his name and the kepars also: my seruant, retorninge to my lodginge, dyd assure me that neither was there euer anye such man there, nether yet anye keper of any suche name; but hee that was there keper, he sent me hys name in writing, afferming that hee letteth no man depart from hym vnlesse he be fet a waye by *[leaf 16]* hys freendes, and that none that came from hym beggeth aboute the Citye. Then I sent for the Printar of this booke, and shewed hym of this dyssembling Cranke, and how I had sent to Bethelem to vnderstand the trouth[101], and what aunsweare I receaued againe, requiringe hym that I might haue some seruant of his to watche him faithfully that daye, that I might vnder stand trustely to what place he woulde repaire at night vnto, and thether I promised to goe my selfe to see their order, and that I woulde haue hym to associate me thether: hee gladly graunted to my request, and sent two boyes, that both diligently and vygelantly accomplisht the charge geuen them, and found the same Cranke aboute the Temple, where about the most parte of the daye hee begged, vnlesse it weare about xii. of the clocke he went on the backesyde of Clementes Ine without Temple barre: there is a lane that goeth into the Feldes; there hee renewed his face againe wyth freshe bloud, which he caried about hym in a bladder, and dawbed on freshe dyrte vpon his Ierken, hat, and hoson.

[P] And so came backe agayne vnto the Temple, and sometyme to the Watersyde, and begged of all that passed bye: the boyes behelde howe some gaue grotes, some syxe pens, some gaue more; for hee looked so ougleie and yrksomlye, that euerye one pytied his miserable case that beehelde hym. To bee shorte, there he passed all the daye tyll night approched; and when it began to bee some what dark, he went to the water syde and toke a Skoller,[102] and was sette ouer the Water into Saincte Georges feldes, contrarye to my expectatian; for I had thought he woulde haue gonne into Holborne or to Saynt Gylles in the felde; but these boyes, with Argues and Lynces eyes, set sewre watche vppon him, and the one tooke a bote and followed him, and the other went backe to tell his maister.

The boye that so folowed hym by Water, had no money to pay for his Bote hyre, but layde his Penner and his Ynkhorne to gage for a penny; and by that tyme the boye was sette ouer, his Maister, wyth all celeryte, hadde taken a Bote and followed hym apase: now hadde they styll a syght of the Cranke, wych crossed ouer the felddes towardes Newyngton, and thether he went, and by that tyme they came thether it was very darke: the Prynter hadde there no acquaintance, nether any kynde of weapon about hym, nether knewe he[103] how farre the Cranke woulde goe, becawse hee then suspected that they dogged hym of purposse; he there stayed hym, and called for the Counstable, whyche came forthe dylygentelye to inquyre what the matter was: thys zelous Pryntar charged thys offycer *[leaf 16, back]* wyth hym as a malefactor and a dessemblinge vagabonde--the Counstable woulde haue layde him all night in the Cage that stode in the streate. "Naye," saythe this pitifull Prynter, "I praye you haue him into your house; for this is lyke to be a cold nyght, and he is naked: you kepe a vytellinge house; let him be well cherished this night, for he is well hable to paye for the same. I knowe well his gaynes hath byn great to day, and your house is a sufficient pryson for the tyme, and we wil there serche hym. The Counstable agreed there vnto: they had him in, and caused him to washe him selfe: that donne, they demaunded what money he had about hym. Sayth this Cranke, "So God helpe me, I haue but xii. pence," and plucked oute the same of a lytle pursse. "Why, haue you no more?" quoth they. "No," sayth this Cranke, "as God shall saue my soule at the day of iudgement." "We must se more," quoth they, and began to stryp hym. Then he plucked out a nother purse, wherin was xl. pens. "Toushe," sayth[104] thys Prynter, "I must see more." Saythe this Cranke, "I pray God I bee dampned both body[105] and soule yf I haue anye more." "No," sayth thys Prynter, "thou false knaue, here is my boye that dyd watche thee all this daye, and sawe when such men gaue the peeses of sixe pens, grotes, and other money; and yet thou hast shewed vs none but small money." When thys Cranke hard this, and the boye vowinge it to his face, he relented, and plucked out another pursse, where in was eyght shyllings and od money; so had they in the hole _that_ he had begged that day xiij. shillings iii. [106]pens halfepeny[106]. Then they strypt him starke naked, and as many as sawe him sayd they neuer sawe hansommer man, wyth a yellowe flexen beard[107], and fayre skynned, withoute anye spot or greffe. Then the good wyfe of the house fet her goodmans[108] olde clocke, _and_ caused the same to be cast about him, because the sight shoulde not abash her shamefast maydens, nether loth her squaymysh sight.

{Thus he set[109] downe at the Chemnes end, and called for a
{potte of Beere, and dranke of a quarte at a draft, and

called for another, and so the thyrde, that one had bene sufficient for any resonable man, the Drynke was so stronge.[110] I my selfe, the next morninge, tasted thereof; but let the reader iudge what and howe much he would haue dronke and he had bene out of feare. Then when they had thus wrong water out of a flint in spoyli_n_g him of his euyl gotten goods, his passing pens[111], _and_ fleting trashe, The printer with this offecer were in gealy gealowsit[112], and deuised to search a barne for some roges and vpright men, a quarter of a myle from the house, that stode a lone in the fieldes, and wente out about their busines, leauing this cranke alone with his wyfe and maydens: this crafty Cra_n_ke, espying al gon, requested _the_ good wife that *[leaf 17]* hee might goe out on the backesyde to make water, and to exonerate his paunche: she bad hym drawe the lache of the dore and goe out, neither thinkinge or mistrusting he would haue gon awaye naked; but, to conclude, when hee was out, he cast awaye the cloke, and, as naked as euer he was borne, he ran away, [113]that he could[114] neuer be hard of [115]againe.[113] Now[115] the next morning betimes, I went vnto Newington, to vndersta_n_d what was done, because I had word or it was day that there my printer was; and at my comming thether, I hard the hole circumstaunce, as I aboue haue wrytten; and I, seing the matter so fall out, tooke order with the chiefe of the parish that this xiij. shyllings _and_ iij. [116]pens halfpeny[116] might the next daye be equally distributed, by their good discrecions, to the pouertie of the same parishe,[117] and so it was done.

[Header: HARMAN. A DOMMERAR.]

[P] A DOMMERAR. Cap. 12.

THese Dommerars are leud and most subtyll people: the moste part of these are Walch men, and wyll neuer speake, vnlesse they haue extreame punishment, but wyll gape, and with a maruelous force wyll hold downe their toungs doubled, groning for your charyty, and holding vp their handes full pitiously, so that with their deepe dissimulation they get very much. There are of these many, _and_ but one that I vnderstand of hath lost his toung in dede. Hauing on a time occasion to ride to Dartforde, to speake with a priest there, who maketh all kinde of conserues very well, and vseth stilling of waters; And repayringe to his house, I founde a Dommerar at his doore, and the priest him selfe perusinge his[118] lycence, vnder the seales and hands of certayne worshypfull men, had[119] thought the same to be good and effectuall. I taking the same writing, and reading it ouer, and noting the seales, founde one of the seales like vnto a seale that I had aboute me, which seale I bought besides Charing crosse, that I was out of doubte it was none of those Gentlemens seales that had sub[s]cribed. And hauing vnderstanding before of their peuish practises, made me to conceaue that all was forged and nought. I made the more hast home; for well I wyst that he would and must of force passe through the parysh where I dwelt; for there was no other waye for hym. And comminge homewarde, I found them in the towne, accordinge to my expectation, where they were staid; for there was a Pallyarde associate with the Dommerar and partaker of his gaynes, whyche Pallyarde I sawe not at Dartford. The stayers of them was a gentleman called[120] _Chayne_, and a seruant of my Lord Keepers, cald _Wostestowe_, which was *[leaf 17, back]* the chiefe causer of the staying of them, being a Surgien, _and_ cunning in his science, had seene the lyke practises, and, as he sayde, hadde caused one to speake afore that was dome[121]. It was my chaunce to come at the begynning of the matter. "Syr," (quoth this Surgien) "I am bold here to vtter some part of my cunning. I trust" (quoth he) "you shall se a myracle wrought anon. For I once" (quoth he) "made a dumme man to speake." Quoth I, "you are wel met, and somwhat you haue preuented me; for I had thought to haue done no lesse or they hadde passed this towne. For I well knowe their writing is fayned, and they depe dissemblers." The Surgien made hym gape, _and_ we could see but halfe a toung. I required the Surgien to put hys fynger in his mouth, _and_ to pull out his toung, and so he dyd, not withstanding he held strongly a prety whyle; at the length he pluckt out the same, to the great admiration of many that stode by. Yet when we sawe his tounge, hee would neither speake nor yet could heare. Quoth I to the Surgien, "knit two of his fyngers to gether, and thrust a stycke betwene them, and rubbe the same vp and downe a lytle whyle, and for my lyfe hee speaketh by and by." "Sir," quoth this Surgien, "I praye you let me practise and[122] other waye." I was well contented to see the same. He had him into a house, and tyed a halter aboute the wrestes of his handes, and hoysed him vp ouer a beame, and there dyd let him hang a good while: at _th_e length, for very paine he required for Gods sake to let him down. So he that was both deafe and dume coulde in short tyme both heare and speake. Then I tooke that money I could find in his pursse, and distributed the same to the poore people dwelling there, whiche was xv. pence halfepeny, being all that we coulde finde. That done, and this merry myracle madly made, I sent them with my seruaunt to the next Iusticer, where they preached on the Pyllery for want of a Pulpet, and were well whypped, and none dyd bewayle them.

[Header: HARMAN. A PRYGGE.]

[P] A DRONKEN TINCKAR. Cap. 13.

THese dronken Tynckers, called also Prygges, be beastly people, _and_ these yong knaues be _th_e wurst. These neuer go w_i_t_h_ out their Doxes, and yf their women haue anye thing about them, as apparell or lynnen, that is worth the selling, they laye the same to gage, or sell it out right, for bene bowse at their bowsing ken. And full sone wyll they bee wearye of them, and haue a newe. When they happen one woorke at any good house, their Doxes lynger alofe, and tarry for them in some corner; and yf he taryeth longe from her, then she knoweth *[leaf 18]* he hath worke, and walketh neare, and sitteth downe by him. For besydes money, he looketh for meate and drinke for doinge his dame pleasure. For yf she haue three or foure holes in a pan, hee wyll make as many more for spedy gaine. And if he se any old ketle, chafer, or pewter dish abroad in the yard where he worketh, hee quicklye snappeth the same vp, and in to the booget it goeth round. Thus they lyue with deceite.

{[P] I was crediblye informed, by such as could well tell, that
{one of these tipling Tinckers w_i_t_h_ his dogge robbed by the

high way iiij. Pallyards and two Roges, six persons together, and tooke from them aboue foure pound in ready money, _and_ hide him after in a thicke woode a daye or two, and so escaped vntaken. Thus with picking and stealing, mingled with a lytle worke for a coulour, they passe their time.

[Header: HARMAN. A SWADDER. A IARKEMAN AND A PATRICO.]

[P] A SWADDER, OR PEDLER. Cap. 14.

THese Swadders and Pedlers bee not all euyll, but of an indifferent behauiour. These stand in great awe of the vpright men, for they haue often both wares and money of them. But for as much as they seeke gayne vnlawfully against the lawes and statutes of this noble realme, they are well worthy to be registred among the number of vacabonds; and vndoubtedly I haue hadde some of them brought before me, when I was in commission of the peace, as malefactors, for bryberinge and stealinge. And nowe of late it is a greate practes of the vpright man, when he hath gotten a botye, to bestowe the same vpon a packefull of wares, and so goeth a time for his pleasure, because he would lyue with out suspition.

[P] A IARKE MAN, AND A PATRICO. Cap. 15.

FOR as much as these two names, a Iarkeman and a Patrico, bee in the old briefe of vacabonds, and set forth as two kyndes of euil doers, you shall vnderstande that a Iarkeman hathe his name of a Iarke, which is a seale in their Language, as one should make writinges and set seales for lycences and pasporte[123]. And for trouth there is none that goeth aboute the countrey of them that can eyther wryte so good and fayre a hand, either indite so learnedly, as I haue sene _and_ handeled a number of them: but haue the same made in good townes where they come, as what can not be hadde for money, as the prouerbe sayth ("_Omnia venalia Rome_"), and manye hath confessed the same to me. *[leaf 18, back]* Now, also, there is a Patrico, and not a Patriarcho[124], whiche in their language is a priest that should make mariages tyll death dyd depart; but they haue none such, I am well assured; for I put you out of doubt that not one amo[n]gest a hundreth of them are maried, for they take lechery for no sinne, but naturall fellowshyp and good lyking loue: so that I wyll not blot my boke with these two that be not.

[Header: HARMAN. A DEMAUNDER FOR GLYMMAR.]

[P] A DEMAUNDER FOR GLYMMAR. Cap. 16.

THese Demaunders for glymmar be for the moste parte wemen; for glymmar, in their language, is fyre. These goe with fayned[125] lycences and counterfayted wrytings, hauing the hands and seales of suche gentlemen as dwelleth nere to the place where they fayne them selues to haue bene burnt, and their goods consumed with fyre. They wyll most lamentable[126] demaunde your charitie, _and_ wyll quicklye shed salte teares, they be so tender harted. They wyll neuer begge in that Shiere where their losses (as they say) was. Some of these goe with slates at their backes, which is a sheete to lye in a nightes. The vpright men be very familiare with these kynde of wemen, and one of them helpes an other.

[P] A Demaunder for glymmar came vnto a good towne in Kente, to aske the charitie of the people, hauinge a fayned lycens aboute her that declared her misfortune by fyre, donne in Somerset shyre, walkinge with a wallet on her shoulders, where in shee put the deuotion of suche as hadde no money to geue her; that is to saye, Malte, woll, baken, bread, and cheese; and alwayes, as the same was full, so was it redye money to her, when she emptyed the same, where so euer shee trauelede: thys harlot was, as they terme it, snowte fayre, and had an vpright man or two alwayes attendinge on her watche (whyche is on her parson), and yet so circumspecte, that they woulde neuer bee seene in her company in any good towne, vnlesse it were in smale vyllages where typling houses weare, eyther trauelinge to gether by the hygh wayes; but _th_e troth is, by report, she would wekely be worth vi. or seuen shyllinges with her begging and bycherye. This glimmering Morte, repayringe to an Ine in _th_e sayde towne where dwelt a wydow of fyftie wynter olde of good welth; but she had an vnthryftye sonne, whom she vsed as a chamberlaine to attend gestes when they repared to her house: this amerous man, be holdinge with ardante eyes thys[127] glymmeringe glauncer, was presentlye pyteouslye persed to the hart, and lewdlye longed to bee clothed vnder her lyuerye; and bestowinge *[leaf 19]* a fewe fonde wordes with her, vnderstode strayte that she woulde be easlye perswaded to lykinge lechery, and as a man mased, mused howe to attayne to his purpose, for[128] he hadde no money. Yet consideringe wyth hym selfe that wares woulde bee welcome where money wanted, hee went with a wannion to his mothers chamber, and there sekinge aboute for odde endes, at length founde a lytle whystell of syluer that his mother dyd vse customablye to weare on, and had forgot the same for haste that morninge, and offeres the same closely to this manerly marian, that yf she would mete hym on the backesyde of the towne and curteously kys him with out constraynt, she shoulde bee mystres thereof, and it weare much better. "Well," sayth she, "you are a wanton;" and beholdinge the whystell, was farther in loue there with then rauysht wyth his person, and agred to mete him presently, and to accomplyshe his fonde fancy:--to be short, and not tedyous, a quarter of a myle from the towne, he merely toke measure of her vnder a bawdye bushe; so she gaue hym that she had not, and he receiued that he coulde not; and taking leue of eche other with a curteous kysse, she plesantly passed forth one her iornaye, _and_ this vntoward lycorous chamberlayne repayred home warde. But or these two tortylles tooke there leue, the good wyfe myssed her whystell, and sent one of her maydenes in to her chamber for the same, and being long sawght for, none coulde be founde; her mystres hering that, diligent search was made for the same; and that it was taken awaye, began to suspecte her vnblessed babe, and demaunded of her maydens whether none of them sawe her sonne in her chamber that morning, and one of them aunswered that she sawe him not there, but comming from thens: then had she ynough, for well she wyste that he had the same, and sent for him, but he could not be founde. Then she caused her hosteler, in whome she had better affyaunce in for his trouth,--and yet not one amongst twenty of them but haue well left there honesty, (As I here a great sorte saye)--to come vnto her, whiche attended to knowe her pleasure. "Goe, seke out," saythe she, "my vntowarde sonne, and byd hym come speake with me." "I sawe him go out," saythe he, "halfe an houre sithens one the backesyde. I hadde thought you hadde sent him of your arrante." "I sent him not," quoth she; "goe, loke him out."

[P] This hollowe hosteler toke his staffe in his necke, and trodged out apase that waye he sawe him before go, and had some vnderstanding, by one of the maydens, that his mistres had her whistell stolen _and_ suspected her sonne; and he had not gone farre but that he espyed him comming homeward alone, and, meting him, axed where he had ben. *[leaf 19, back]* "Where haue I bene?" q_uoth_ he, and began to smyle. "Now, by the mas, thou hast bene at some baudy banquet." "Thou hast euen tolde trouth," q_uoth_ thys chamberlayne. "Sewerly," q_uoth_ this hosteler, "thou haddest the same woman that begged at our house to day, for _th_e harmes she had by fyre: where is she?" q_uoth_ he. "She is almost a myle by this tyme," q_uoth_ this chamberlayne. "Where is my mystres whystell?" quoth this hosteler; "for I am well assured that thou haddest it, and I feare me thou hast geuen it to that harlot." "Why! is it myssed?" _quoth_ this chamberlayne. "Yea," q_uoth_ this hosteler, and shewed him all the hole circumstaunce, what was both sayde and thought on him for the thing. "Well, I wyl tell the," quoth this Chamberlayne. "I wylbe playne with the. I had it in dede, and haue geue_n_ the same to this woman, and I praye the make the best of it, and helpe nowe to excuse the matter, and yet surely and thou wouldest take so much payne for me as to ouer take her, (for she goeth but softly, and is not yet farre of) and take the same from her, and I am euer thyne assured freende." "Why, then, go with me," quoth this hostler. "Nay, in faythe," quoth this Chamberlayne; "what is frear then gift? and I hadde prety pastime for the same." "Hadest thou so?" quoth this hosteler; "nowe, by the masse, and I wyll haue some to, or I wyll lye in the duste or I come agayne." Passing with hast to ouer take this paramoure, within a myle fro_m_ _th_e place where he departed he ouertoke her, hauing an vpright man in her company, a stronge and a sturdye vacabond: some what amased was this hosteler to se one familiarly in her company, for he had well hopped to haue had some delycate dalyance, as his fellowe hadde; but, seinge the matter so fallout, and being of good corage, and thinking to him selfe that one true man was better then two false knaues, and being on the high way, thought vpon helpe, if nede had bene, by such as had passed to and fro, Demaunded fersely the whistell that she had euyn nowe of his fellowe. "Why, husband," quoth she, "can you suffer this wretche to slaunder your wyfe?" "A vaunt verlet," quoth this vpright man, and letes dryue with all his force at this hosteler, and after halfe[129] a dosen blowes, he strycks his staffe out of his hande, and as this hosteler stept backe to haue taken vp his staffe agayne, his glymmeringe Morte flinges a great stone at him, and strake him one the heade that downe hee fales, wyth the bloud about his eares, and whyle hee laye this amased, the vpright man snatches awaye his pursse, where in hee hadde money of his mystresses as well as of his owne, and there let him lye, and went a waye with spede that they were neuer harde of more. When this drye beaten hosteler was come to him selfe, hee fayntlye wandereth home, and crepethe in to hys couche, and restes *[leaf 20]* his ydle heade: his mystres harde that hee was come in, and layde him downe on his beade, repayred straight vnto him, and aske hym what he ayled, and what the cause was of his so sudden lying one his bed. "What is the cause?" quoth this hosteler; "your whystell, your whistel,"--speaking the same pyteouslye thre or foure tymes. "Why, fole," quoth his mystrisse, "take no care for that, for I doe not greatly waye it; it was worth but three shyllinges foure pens." "I would it had bene burnt for foure yeares agon." "I praye the why so," quoth his mystres; "I think thou art mad." "Nay, not yet," quoth this hosteler, "but I haue bene madly handlyd." "Why, what is the matter?" quoth his mystres, and was more desirous to know the case. "_And_ you wyl for geue my fellowe and me, I wyll shewe you, or els I wyll neuer doe it." Shee made hym presently faithfull promisse that shee woulde. "Then," saythe hee, "sende for your sonne home agayne, whyche is ashamed to loke you in the face." "I agre there to," sayth shee "Well, then," quoth this hosteler, "youre sonne hathe geuen the same Morte that begged here, for the burninge of her house, a whystell, and you haue geuen her v. shyllinges in money, and I haue geuen her ten shyllinges of my owne." "Why, howe so?" quoth she. Then he sadly shewed her of his myshap, with all the circumstaunce that you haue harde before, and howe hys pursse was taken awaye, and xv. shyllinges in the same, where of v. shyllinges was her money and x. shyllinges his owne money. "Is this true?" quoth his mystres. "I, by my trouth," quoth this hosteler, "and nothing greues me so much, neyther my beating, neither the losse of my money, as doth my euell _and_ wreched lucke." "Why, what is the matter?" quoth his mystres. "Your sonne," saythe this hosteler, "had some chere and pastyme for that whystell, for he laye with her, and I haue bene well beaten, and haue had my pursse taken from me, and you knowe your sonne is merrye and pleasaunt, and can kepe no great councell; and then shall I bemocked _and_ loughed to skorne in all places when they shall here howe I haue bene serued." "Nowe, out vpon you knaues both," quoth his mystres, and laughes oute the matter; for she well sawe it would not other wyse preuayle.

[Header: HARMAN. A BAWDY BASKET.]

[P] A BAWDY BASKET. Cap. 17.

THese Bawdy baskets be also wemen, and go with baskets and Capcases on their armes, where in they haue laces, pynnes, nedles, white ynkell, and round sylke gyrdles of al coulours. These wyl bye co_n_neyski_n_s,[130] _and_ steale line_n_ clothes of on hedges. And for their trifles they wil procure of mayden seruaunts, whe_n_ *[leaf 20, back]* their mystres or dame is oute of the waye, either some good peece of beefe, baken, or cheese, that shalbe worth xij. pens, for ii. pens of their toyes. And as they walke by the waye, they often gaine some money wyth their instrument, by such as they sodaynely mete withall. The vpright men haue good acquayntance with these, and will helpe and relieue them when they want. Thus they trade their lyues in lewed lothsome lechery. Amongest them all is but one honest woman, and she is of good yeares; her name is Ione Messenger. I haue had good proofe of her, as I haue learned by the true report of diuers.

{There came to my gate the last sommer, Anno Domini .1566,
{a very miserable man, and much deformed, as burnt in the

face, blere eyde, and lame of one of his legges that he went with a crouche. I axed him wher he was borne, and where he dwelt last, and shewed him that thether he must repaire and be releued, and not to range aboute the countrey; and seing some cause of cherytie, I caused him to haue meate and drinke, and when he had dronke, I demaunded of him whether he was neuer spoyled of the vpright man or Roge. "Yes, that I haue," quoth he, "and not this seuen yeres, for so long I haue gon abroad, I had not so much taken from me, and so euyll handeled, as I was w_i_th_i_n these iiij. dayes." "Why, how so?" quoth I. "In good fayth, sir," quoth hee, "I chaunced to meete with one of these bawdy baskets which had an vpright man in her company, and as I would haue passed quietly by her, 'man,' sayth she vnto vnto her make, 'do you not se this ylfauored, windshake_n_ knaue?' 'Yes,' quoth the vpright man; 'what saye you to him?' 'this knaue[131] oweth me ii. shyllings for wares that[132] he had of me, halfe a yere a go, I think it well.' Sayth this vpright man, 'syra,' sayth he, 'paye your dets.' Sayth this poore man, 'I owe her none, nether dyd I euer bargane with her for any thinge, and as this[133] aduysed I neuer sawe her before in all my lyfe.' 'Mercy, god!' quoth she, 'what a lyinge knaue is this, and he wil not paye you, husband, beat him suerly,' and the vpright man gaue me thre or foure blowes on my backe and shoulders, and would haue beat me worsse and I had not geuen hym all the money in my pursse, and in good fayth, for very feare, I was fayne to geue him xiiij. pens, which was all the money that I had. 'Why,' sayth this bawdy basket, 'hast thou no more? then thou owest me ten pens styll; and, be well assured that I wyll bee payde the next tyme I meete with thee.' And so they let me passe by them. I praye god saue and blesse me, and al other in my case, from such wycked persons," quoth this poore man. "Why, whether went they then?" quoth I. "Into east Kent, for I mete with them on thyssyde of Rochester. I haue dyuers tymes bene attemted, but I neuer loste *[leaf 21]* much before. I thanke god, there came styll company by a fore this vnhappy time." "Well," quoth I, "thanke God of all, and repaire home into thy natyue countrey."

[Header: HARMAN. A AUTEM MORT. A WALKING MORT.]

[P] A AUTEM MORT. Cap. 18.

THese Autem Mortes be maried wemen, as there be but a fewe. For Autem in their Language is a Churche; so she is a wyfe maried at the Church, and they be as chaste as a Cowe I haue, _tha_t goeth to Bull euery moone, with what Bull she careth not. These walke most times from their husbands companye a moneth and more to gether, being asociate with another as honest as her selfe. These wyll pylfar clothes of hedges: some of them go with children of ten or xii. yeares of age; yf tyme and place serue for their purpose, they wyll send them into some house, at the window, to steale and robbe, which they call in their language, Milling of the ken; and wil go w_i_t_h_ wallets on their shoulders, and slates at their backes. There is one of these Autem Mortes, she is now a widow, of fyfty yeres old; her name is Alice Milson: she goeth about with a couple of great boyes, the yongest of them is fast vpon xx. yeares of age; and these two do lye with her euery night, and she lyeth in the middes: she sayth that they be her children, that beteled be babes borne of such abhominable bellye.

[P] A WALKING MORT. Cap. 19.

THese walkinge Mortes bee not maryed: these for their vnhappye yeares doth go as a Autem Morte, and wyll saye their husbandes died eyther at Newhauen, Ireland, or in some seruice of the Prince. These make laces vpon staues, _and_ purses, that they cary in their hands, and whyte vallance for beddes. Manye of these hath hadde and haue chyldren: when these get ought, either with begging, bychery, or brybery, as money or apparell, they are quickly shaken out of all by the vpright men, that they are in a maruelous feare to cary any thinge aboute them that is of any valure. Where fore, this pollicye they vse, they leaue their money now with one and then with a nother trustye housholders, eyther with the good man or good wyfe, some tyme in one shiere, and then in another, as they trauell: this haue I knowne, _tha_t iiij. or v. shyllinges, yea x. shyllinges, lefte in a place, and the same wyll they come for againe within one quarter of a yeare, or some tyme not in halfe a yeare; and all this is to lytle purpose, for all their peuyshe *[leaf 21, back]* pollycy; for when they bye them lynnen or garmentse, it is taken awaye from them, and worsse geuen them, or none at all.

[Header: HARMAN. A WALKING MORT.]