hadde nother great wytte nor lernynge, came to the bysshoppe to take
orders, whose folysshenes the bysshoppe perceyuynge, because he was a
ryche mannes sonne wolde nat very strongly oppose him, but asked him
thys _questyon: Noye had thre sonnes, Sem, Came, and Japhete; nowe tell
me, who was Japhetes father? But the scoler was all abashed, and knew
nat what to answere: wherefore the bysshoppe sayde: get the home and
consider awhile_, and come agayne and soyle[117] me this questyon, and
thou shalt haue orders. This scoler so departed and came home to his
father, and shewed hym the cause of the hynderaunce of his orders. Hys
father, beyng angry at his folisshenes, thought to teche hym the
solucyon of this questyon by a familier example, and called his spanyels
before hym, and sayd thus: Thou knowest well, Colle my dogge hathe these
iii. whelpes, Ryg, Trygge and Tryboll. Muste nat all my dogges nedes be
syre to Tryboll? Than quod the scoler: by God! father, ye [have] sayd
trouthe. Let me alone nowe; ye shall se me do well ynoughe the nexte
tyme. Wherfore on the morowe he wente to the bysshoppe agayne, and sayd
he coulde soyle his questyon. Than sayd the bysshoppe: Noye had thre
sonnes, Sem, Came,[118] and Japhete. Now, tell me who was Japhetes
father. Mary, syr, quod the scoler, if it plese youre lordeshyppe, Colle
my fathers dogge.

By this tale a man may lerne, that it is but loste tyme to teche a fole
any thynge, whiche hathe no wytte to perceyue it.

FOOTNOTES:

[117] Satisfy, a very rare word.

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

¶ It fortuned so that a frere, late in the euenynge, desyred lodgynge of
a poore man of the countrey, the whiche for lacke of other lodgyng,
glad to harborowe the frere, lodged him in his owne bedde. And after, he
and his wyfe, the frere beynge a slepe, came and laye in the same bedde;
and in the mornynge after the poore man rose and went to the market,
leauyng the frere in the bedde with his wyfe. And as he wente he smiled
and laughte to hym selfe; wherfore hys neyghbours demaunded of hym, why
he so smyled. He answered and sayd: I laughe to thynke, howe shamefaste
the frere shal be whanne he waketh, whome I left in bedde with my wyfe.

By this tale a man may lerne, that he that ouershoteth hym selfe doth
folysshely: yet he is more fole to shewe it openly.

FOOTNOTES:

[118] Ham.

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

¶ Somtyme there dwelled a preest in Stretforde vpon Auyne of small
lernyng, which vndeuoutly sange masse and oftentymes twyse on one day.
So it happened on a tyme, after his seconde masse was done in shorte
space, nat a myle from Stretforde there mette with hym dyuers marchaunte
men whiche wolde haue harde masse, and desyred hym to synge masse and he
shuld haue a grote; whiche answered them and sayd: syrs, I wyll say
masse no more this day; but I wyll say you two gospels for one grote,
and that is dogge chepe [for] a masse in any place in Englande.

By this tale a man may se, that they that be rude and unlerned regarde
but lytell the meryte and goodness of holy prayer.

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

_Too much damaged to decypher._

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

¶ A precher in pulpet whiche prechyd the worde _of God, amonge other_
matters spake of mennes soules and sayd _that the soule was so_ subtyll
that a thousande soules myght daunce _on the space of the nayle of a_
mannes fynger. Amonge which audyence there was a mery conceyted _fellow_
of small deuocyon that answered and sayde thus: mayster doctour, if a
thousande soules may daunce on a mannes nayle, I praye you than, where
shall the pyper stande?

By this tale a man may se, that it is but foly to shewe or to teche
vertue to them, that haue no pleasure nor mynde therto.

¶ _Of the husbande that cryed ble under the bed._ lxxiv.

¶ In London there was a certayne artifycer hauyng a fayre wife, to whom
a lusty galante made pursute to accomplisshe his pleasure. This woman,
denyeng, shewed the matter vnto her husband whiche, moued therewith, bad
his wyfe to appoynte him a tyme to come secretly to lye with her all
nyght, and with great crakes and othes sware that, agaynst his comyng,
he wolde be redy harneysed and wolde put him in ieopardye of his lyfe,
except he wolde make hym a great amendes. Thys nyght was then appoynted;
at whiche tyme thys courtyer came at his houre, and entred in at the
chamber, and set his two-hande sworde downe, and sayde these wordes:
stande thou there, thou sworde, the dethe of thre men! This husbande
lyenge vnder the bedde in harneys, herynge these wordes, lay still for
fere. The courtyer anone gat him to bed with the wyfe about his
prepensed busynesse; and within an houre or two the husbande, beynge
wery of lyenge, beganne to remoue hym. The courtyer, that hearynge,
asked the wyfe what thinge that was that remoued vnder the bedde;
whiche, excusyng the matter, sayd it was a lytell shepe, that was wonte
dayly to go about the house; and the husbande, that herynge, anone
cryed _ble_, as it had ben a shepe. And so in conclusyon, whan the
courtyer sawe his tyme, he rose and kissed the wyfe, and took his leaue
and departed. And as sone as he was gone the husbande arose; and, whan
the wyfe loked on him, somwhat abasshed began to make a sad countenance;
and [she] sayde; alas! syr, why did you * *

_The remainder of this tale is wanting._

_By this tale ye may se_, that he is not wyse that will put his
confydence _in bosters_ and great crakers, whiche ofte tymes wyll do but
ly_tell, when it comes to_ the poynte.

¶ _Of the shomaker that asked the colyer what tydynges in hell._[119] lxxv.

¶ A souter[120] syttynge in his shope, that sawe a colyer come by,
_deryded hym_, because he was so blacke, and asked hym, what newes from
hell and howe the deuyll fared. To whome the colyer answeryd hym: he
was well, whan I sawe hym laste; for he was rydynge _and waited_ but for
a souter to plucke on his botes.

By this ye may se that he that vseth to deryde other folkes is somtyme
him selfe more deryded and mocked.

FOOTNOTES:

[119] The blackness of colliers was employed of course from a very early
period as a ground for satirical insinuations as to their connection
with the Evil One. In 1568, Ulpian Fulwell, a distinguished writer of
the Elizabethan era, published _A Pleasant Interlude intituled Like will
to Like quoth the Devil to the Collier_; and in the old play of _Grim
the Collier of Croydon_, the epithet grim was intended to convey a
similar idea. In _Robin Goodfellow His Mad Pranks and Merry Jests_,
1628, however, Grim is the name of a Fairy.

[120] Shoemaker or Cobbler. Lat. _Sutor_.

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

¶ I fynde wrytten amonge olde gestes,[121] howe God mayde Saynt Peter
porter of heuen, and that God of hys goodnes, sone after his passyon,
suffered many men to come to the kyngdome of Heuen with small
deseruynge; at whiche tyme there was in heuen a great company of
Welchemen, whyche with their crakynge and babelynge troubled all the
other. Wherfore God sayde to saynte Peter, that he was wery of them, and
that he wolde fayne haue them out of heuen. To whome saynte Peter sayd:
Good Lorde, I warrente you, that shal be done. Wherfore saynt Peter
wente out of heuen gates and cryed wyth a loud voyce _Cause bobe_, that
is as moche to saye as rosted chese, whiche thynge the Welchemen
herynge, ranne out of Heuen a great pace. And when Saynt Peter sawe them
all out, he sodenly wente into Heuen, and locked the dore, and so
sparred all the Welchemen out.

By this ye may se, that it is no wysdome for a man to loue or to set his
mynde to moche vpon any delycate or worldely pleasure, wherby he shall
lose the celestyall and eternall ioye.

FOOTNOTES:

[121] It is not very usual to find this word in its jocular sense
spelled in this manner. It continued to be used in its original
signification (_action_ or _exploit_) even to the Restoration, perhaps
later. The most recent example of this employment with which the Editor
has happened to meet is at p. 29 of Mauley's _Iter Carolinum_, 1660,
where the writer speaks of "His Majesties Gests from Newcastle to
Holdenby in Feb. 1646." These _gests_ were certainly no _jests_. Since
the former part of this note was written a more recent instance of the
use of _gest_ in the sense in question has occurred to the Editor in the
_Life and Gests of S. Thomas Cantilupe, Gant_, 1674. 8vo.

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

¶ Two knyghtes there were which wente to a standynge fylde with theyr
prynce; but one of them was confessed before he wente, but the other
wente into the felde without shryfte or repentaunce. Afterwarde thys
prynce wanne the fylde, and had the victory that day; wherfore he that
was confessed came to the prynce, and asked an offyce and sayd that he
had deserved it, for he had done good seruice and aduentured that day as
farre as any man in the felde. To whome the other that was unconfessed
answered and sayd: nay, by the masse, I am more worthy to haue a rewarde
than he: for he aduentured but his body for your sake, for he durst nat
go to the felde tyll he was confessed; _but I that was unconfessed
adventured my soule_.[122] * * * *

  _The remainder of this tale is wanting._

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

_Too imperfect to decypher._

¶ _Of the Welchman that saw one xls. better than God._ lxxix.

¶ A Welchman on a tyme went to churche to _be shryued, and chanced_ to
come in euyn at the sacryng-time.[123] When he had _confessed him_ he
went home, wher one of his felowes askyd hym wh_ether he had seen God_
Almighty to day; which answerd and sayd: nay, but I saw _one forty
shillings better_.

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

¶ Upon a tyme certayn women in the countrye were _appoynted[124] to
dery_de and mokke a frere limitour, that vsed moche to _trouble them_;
whereupon one of them, a lytyll before the frere came, _tooke a hogge_,
and for dysport leyd it under the borde after the manner of a corse;
_and told the_ frere it was her good man and dysyred hime to say dirige
for his soule. _Where_fore the frere and his felaw began Placebo and
Dirige and so fo_rth, thorough_ the seruyse full devowtly, which the
wyues so heryng could not re_fraine_ them selfe from lawghynge and went
in to a lytyll parler to lawgh _more_ at theyr pleasure. These freris
somwhat suspected the cause, and quikly, _or_ that the women were ware,
lokyd under the borde, and spying[125] that it was an hog, sodenly toke
it bytwene them and bare it homeward as fast as they might. The women,
seyng that, ran after the frere and cryed: com agayn, maester frere,
come agayne, and let it allone. Nay by my faith, quod the frere, he is a
broder of ours, and therefore he must nedys be buryed in oure cloyster.
And so the frerys gate the hog.

By this ye may se, that they that use to deride and mok other, somtyme
it tornyth to theyre owne losse and damage.

FOOTNOTES:

[122] The words in Italics are supplied from conjecture. They are not in
orig. or in Singer.

[123] Sacrament.

[124] Prepared, _i.e._ had made themselves ready.

[125] Orig. reads _spyed_.

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

¶ A certayn prest there was that dwellyd in the cuntry which was not
very well lernyd. Therfore on Ester-Euyn he sent his boy to the prest of
the next town, that was ii. myle from thens, to know what masse he
sholde synge on the morowe. This boy came to the sayd prest, and dyd his
maysters errande to hym. Then quod the prest: tel thy mayster that he
must * *

  _Several lines wanting._

masse he shuld synge on the morowe. By my trothe, _quod the boy_, I have
forgotten it; but he bad me tell you it began * * * * _Then quod the
prest_: I trowe thou sayest trewth: for now I remem_ber me it is the
masse of requiem_: for God Almyghty dyed upon Good Fry_day_, and it _is
meet we shulde say masse_ for hys soule.

_By thys tale ye may se, that_ when one fole sendyth another fole on hys
er_rand, hys_ besynes folyshly sped.

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

¶ _A certayne skoler of Oxenford_ which had studied the iudicials of
astronomy, _upon a tyme as he_ was rydyng by the way, came[126] by a
herdman; and _he asked thys herdm_an how far it was to the next town.
Syr, quod the herd_man, it is rather_ past a mile and an half; but, sir,
quod he, ye nede to ryde _apace: for ye shal h_aue a shower of rayn, or
ye com thider. What, quod the skoler, _maketh ye say so_? There ys no
token of rayn: for the cloudes be both fayr and clere. _By my troth_,
quod the herdman, but ye shall fynd it so. The skoler then rode forth,
_and it chanced_ or he had ryden half a myle forther, there fell a good
showre of rayn _and[127] thys_ skoler was well washyd and wett to the
skyn. The skoler then tornyd _hym backe, and_ rode to the herdman, and
desyryd hym to tech him that connyng. _Nay_, quod the herdman, I wyll
not tech you my connynge for nought. Then _the skoler_ profferyde hym xl
shyllyngs to teche hym that connynge. The herd_man, after_ he had
reseyuyd hys money, sayd thus: syr, se you not yonder _blacke_ ewe with
the whyte face? Yes, quod the skoler. Suerly, quod the herdman, when she
daunsith and holdeth up her tayle, ye shall haue a showre of rayn within
half an howre after.[128]

By this ye may se, that the connyng of herdmen and shepardes, as
touchinge alteracyons of weders, is more sure than the iudicials of
astronomy.

FOOTNOTES:

[126] Orig. reads _which came_.

[127] Singer's conjectural reading is _that_; but _and_ seems to me to
be the word required.

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

¶ In a certayne towne, there was a rych man that lay on his deth bed at
poynte of deth, whyche chargyd hys executours to dele[129] for hys soule
a certayne some of money in pence, and on thys condicion chargyd them as
they would answere afore God, that euery pore man that cam to them and
told a trew tale shulde haue a peny, and they that said a fals thing
shuld haue none; and in the dole-tyme there cam one whych sayd that God
was a good man. Quod the executours: thou shalt haue a peny, for thou
saist trouth. Anone came a nother and said, the deuil was a good man.
Quod the executours: there thou lyest; therefore thou shalt haue nere a
peny. At laste came on[e] to the executors and said thus: ye shall gyue
me nere a peny: which wordes made the executors amasyd, and toke
aduysment whyther they shuld * * * *

_The end of this tale is wanting._

FOOTNOTES:

[128] See _Scoggin's Jests_(reprint 1795), p. 47.

[129] Count out.

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

  _Too imperfect to decypher._

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

¶ In the tyme of visitacyon a bysshoppe, whi_che was maryed_[130] and
had gote many chyldren, prepared to questyon a preest what rule he
kepte, whiche preest had a le_man_ * * * * * and by her had two or thre
small chyldren. In shorte _tyme before the Bys_shoppes commynge, he
prepared a rowme to hyde his _leman and children_ ouer in the rofe of
his hall; and whan the bysshoppe was _come and discoursing_ with him in
the same hall, hauynge x of his owne chyldren about him, _the preest_,
who coude speke lytell lytyn or none, bad the bysshoppe in latyn * * * *
Comede,[131] episcope. This woman in rofe of the house, hearing _the
preest say_ so, had went[132] he had called her, byddynge her: come,
Ede; and _answered him_ and sayde: shall I brynge my chyldren with me
also? The bysshoppe, _hearing_ this, sayde in sporte: vxor tua sicut
vitis abundans in lateribus domus tuæ. The preest than, halfe amasyd,
answerd and sayd: filii tui sicut nouellæ oliuarum in circuitu mensæ
tuæ.

By this ye may se, that they, that have but small lernyng, som tyme
speke truely unaduysed.

FOOTNOTES:

[130] These two words are not in orig. or in Singer; but they seem to be
what the context requires.

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

¶ On Ashe Wednesday in the mornynge, was a curate of a churche whyche
had made good chere the nyght afore and sytten up late, and came to the
churche to here confessyon, to whome there came a woman; and among other
thynges she confessed her that she had stolen a potte. But than, because
of greate watche that this preest had, he there sodenly felle aslepe;
and whan this woman sawe him nat wyllynge to here her, she rose and went
her waye. And anone an other woman kneled down to the same preest and
began to say: Benedicite; wherwith this preest sodenly awaked, and
wenynge she had ben the other woman,[133] sayd all angerly, what! arte
thou nowe at Benedicite agayne? tell me, what dyddest thou whan thou
haddest stolyn the potte?

FOOTNOTES:

[131] Orig. reads _Comode_.

[132] Weened.

¶ _Of mayster Whyttynton dreme._[134] lxxxvii.

¶ Sone after one maister Whyttynton had bylded a colege, on a nyght as
he slepte, he dremed that he satte in his church and many folkes there
also; and further he dremed that he sawe Our Lady in the same church
with a glas of goodly oyntemente in her hande goynge to one askynge him
what he had done for her sake; which sayd that he had sayd Our Ladyes
sauter[135] euery daye: wherfore she gaue him a lytel of the oyle. And
anone she wente to another. * * *

  _Several lines wanting._

_he had buylded_ a great college, and was very gladde in hys mynde. _Whan
that Oure Ladye cam to hym_, she asked him what he hadde suffred for her
_sake, this_ questyon made him greatly abashed, because he had nothing
to _answer; wherefore Our Lady_ him informed that for all the great dede
of buyldynge _of a colege he must haue no parte of_ that goodly
oyntemente.

_By this ye may perceue_, that to suffre for Goddes sake is more
_acceptable to God than to buyld or_ gyue great goodes.

FOOTNOTES:

[133] Orig. reads _and_ after _woman_.

[134] The celebrated Sir Richard Whittington. In his _If you know Not me
you know No Body_, Part ii. 1606, Heywood introduces the following
dialogue respecting Whittington between Dean Nowell and Old Hobson, the
haberdasher of the Poultry:--

"_Dr. Now._ This Sir Richard Whittington, three times Mayor, Son to a
knight, and 'prentice to a mercer, Began the library of Gray-friars in
London, And his executors after him did build Whittington College,
thirteen almshouses for poor men, Repair'd Saint Bartholomew's, in
Smithfield, Glared the Guildhall, and built Newgate.

_Hob._ Bones a me, then, I have heard lies; For I have heard he was a
scullion, And rais'd himself by venture of a cat.

_Dr. Now._ They did the more wrong to the gentleman."

[135] Psalter.

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

¶ _A certayne Bysshoppe_ appoynted to go on visytacion to a preeste's;
_and, bycause he_ would haue the preest do but lyttel coste vpon him, he
told him to prepare but lytell meate saying thus: Preparas * * * * *
_modicus_. This preest whyche understode hym nat halfe well, had _some
desire_,[136] wherfore he thoughte to obtayne the bysshoppes fauour;
_and therfore againste_ the bysshoppes comynge kylled his horse that
was _called Modicus_, whereof the bysshoppe and his seruauntes ete
parte; whiche, _whan the byss_hoppe knewe afterwarde, was greatly
displeased.

By this ye may se, that many a fole dothe moche coste in makyng _good
chere_ at dyners, whiche bathe but lytell thanke for his laboure.

FOOTNOTES:

[136] Wanting in orig. and left blank by Singer. I have supplied them
from conjecture.

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

¶ A Welcheman dwellynge in Englande fortuned to stele an Englysshemans
cocke, and set it on the fyre to sethe; wherefore thys Englysheman,
suspecting the Welcheman, came to his house, and sawe the cocke sethyng
on the fyre and said to the Welcheman thus: syr, this is my cocke. Mary,
quod the Welcheman; and if it be thyne, thou shalte haue thy parte of
it. Nay, quod the Englyssheman, that is nat ynoughe. By cottes blut and
her nayle! quod the Welcheman, if her be nat ynoughe nowe, her will be
ynoughe anone: for her hath a good fyre under her.

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

¶ Certayne vycars[137] of Poules, disposed to be mery on a Sonday at hye
masse tyme, sente another madde felowe of theyr acquointance unto a
folysshe dronken preest to gyue hym a bottell, whiche man met with the
preest upon the toppe of the stayres by the chauncell dore, and spake to
him and sayd thus: syr, my mayster hath sente you a bottell to put your
drynke in, because he can kepe none in your braynes. This preest,
therwith beynge very angry, all sodenly toke the bottell, and with his
fote flange it downe into the body of the churche upon the gentylmans
hede.[138]

FOOTNOTES:

[137] Priests.

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

¶ A certayne Jury in the countye of Myddelsex was enpaneled for the
kynge to enquere of all endytements, murders, and felonyes. The persones
of this panell were folyshe, couetous and unlerned: for who so euer
wolde gyue them a grote, they wolde affyne and verifye his byll, whether
it were true or fals, withoute any profe or euydence; wherefore one that
was * * * *

  _Some lines wanting._

_the Jury loking_ on the grote and nothing on the byll as was their
_costome_, which byll whan it was presented into the courte, _the
judge_ said openly before all the people: lo! syrs, here is the
_straungest byll euer_ presented by an enquest: for here they haue
indyted _Jesu of Nazareth_ for stelyng of an asse. Which whan the people
harde it, it _made them all to laughe_, and to wonder at the folysshenes
and shamefull periury _of the Jury_.

By this ye may se, it is great parell[139] to enpanell _men upon an_
enquest, whiche be folysshe and haue but small _witte or honesty_.

FOOTNOTES:

[138] Orig. reads _gentylmens_.

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

¶ In a certayne parryshe, a frere preched and _said moche_ againt them,
that rode on the Sonday euer lokyng upon _one that was there_, spurred
redy to ryde. This man, perceuyng that _the frere loked at_ hym, sodenly
halfe in angre answered the frere thus: _I meruayle that ye say so_
moche agaynste them that ryde on the Sonday: for Christe _rode into
Jerusalem_ on Palme Sonday, as thou knowest well it is wrytten * * *
_To_ whome the frere sodenly answered and sayd thus: _but knowe ye not
also what came_ thereof? Was he nat hanged on the Fryday after! Whiche
hearing _all them that were_ in the churche fell on laughynge.

FOOTNOTES:

[139] Peril.

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

¶ There was a certayne man that had two sonnes unl_yke eche other_. For
the eldyst was lustye and quycke, and vsed moch_e betimes to_ walke into
the fyldes. Than was the yonger slowe, and vsed _moche_ to lye in his
bed as long as he myght. So on a day the elder, as _he was vsed_, rose
erly and walked into the fyldes; and there by fortune he founde a purse
of money, and brought it home to his father. His father, whan he had it,
wente strayght to hys other sonne yet lyenge than in his bed and sayd to
him: o thou slogarde, quod he, seyst thou nat thyne eldest brother, howe
he by hys erly rysyng had founde a purse with money whereby we shall be
greatly holpen all our lyfe, whyle thou sluggynge in thy bedde dost
no[140] good but slepe? He than wyst nat what to say, but answered
shortly and said: father, quod he, if he that hathe loste the purse and
money had lyne in hys bedde that same tyme that he loste it, as I do
nowe, my brother had founde no purse nor money to day.

By this ye may se, that they that be accustomed in vyce and synne will
alwaye fynde one excuse or other to cloke therewyth theyr vyce and
vnthryftynes.

FOOTNOTES:

[140] Orig. reads _thou sluggynge in thy bedde dost thou no good_, which
repetition of _thou_ seems unnecessary.

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

¶ A certayne wyfe there was, whiche was somwhat fayre, and, as all women
be that be fayre, was somwhat proude of her beautye; and as she and her
mayde satte together, she, as one that was desyrous to be praysed, sayd
to her thus: I, faythe, Jone, howe thynkest thou? am I nat a fayre wyfe?
Yes, by my trouth, maistres, quod she, ye be the fayrest that euer was
excepte * * *

  _The end is wanting._

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

  _Of this tale but a small fragment remains._

¶ _Of the burnynge of olde John._ xcvi.

¶ _In a certayne_ towne there was a wife somewhat aged, that had beryed
_her husbande_, whose name was John, whome she so tend_erlye loued in
his_ lyfe, that after hys dethe she caused an ymage of tymber _to be
made in forme_ and persone as lyke to hym as coulde be; whiche ymage
_she kept carefully_ under her bedde; and euery nyghte she caused her
mayde to _wrap the ymage in a shete_ and lay it in her bedde; and called
it olde John. Thys _widowe had_ a prentyse whose name was John; whiche
John wolde fayne _haue married hys_ maystres, nat for no great pleasure,
but onely for her good _substance: for she_ was ryche. Wherefore he
ymagened howe he myght obtayne hys _desire and so dyd_ speke to the
mayde of the house, and desyred her to lay hym in hys maystres bedde for
one nyghte in stede of the pycture,[141] and promysed her a good rewarde
for her laboure; whyche mayde ouer nyghte wrapped the sayde younge man
in a shete, and layde hym in his maysters bedde, as she was wonte to
laye the pycture. Thys wydowe was wonte euery nyght, before she slepte
and dyuers tymes whan she waked, to kysse the sayde pycture of olde
John: wherefore the sayde nyghte she kyssed the sayde yonge man,
beleuynge that she hadde kyste the picture. And he sodenly sterte,[142]
and toke her in his armes, and so well pleased her than, that olde John
from thens forth was clene out of her mynde, and [she] was contente
that this yonge John shulde lye with her styll all that nyghte, and that
the pycture of olde John shulde lye styll under the bedde for a thynge
of noughte. After thys in the mornynge, thys wydowe, intendynge to
please this yonge John whyche had made her so good pastyme all the
nyght, bad her mayde go dresse some good mete for their brekefast to
feaste therwith her yonge John. This mayde, whan she had longe sought
for wode to dresse the sayde mete, told her maystres that she coude
fynde no wode that was drye, except onelye the pycture of olde John that
lyeth under the bed. * * * * * * * *

  _Some lines wanting._

and dressyd the brekfast; and so olde John _was brenyd; and_ from thens
forth yong John occupyed _his place_.

FOOTNOTES:

[141] Not here put as a painting, but in a general sense, as a
representation.

[142] The old perfect of _start_. The orig. reads _starte_.

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

¶ A certayne merchaunt and a courtear, _being upon a time together_ at
dyner hauing a hote custerd, _the courtear being_ somwhat homely of
maner toke _parte of it and put it_ in hys mouth, whych was so hote that
made him _shed teares. The_ merchaunt, lokyng on him, thought that he
had _ben weeping, and asked hym why_ he wept. This curtear, not wyllynge
[it] to be kn_own that he had brent his_ mouth with the hote custerd,
answered and said, sir: q_uod he, I had_ a brother whych dyd a certayn
offence wherfore he was hanged; _and, chauncing_ to think now vppon his
deth, it maketh me to wepe. This merchaunt thought the courtear had said
trew, and anon after the merchaunt was disposid to ete _of the custerd_,
and put a sponefull of it in his mouth, and brent his mouth also, that
his _eyes watered_. This courtear, that perceuyng, spake to the
merchaunt and seyd: sir, quod _he, pray_ why do ye wepe now? The
merchaunt perseyued how he had _bene deceiued_ and said[143]: mary, quod
he, I wepe, because thou wast not hangid, _when that_ thy brother was
hangyd.

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

¶ A yong man, that was desirous to haue a wyf, cam to a company _of
Phi_losofers which were gadred to gider, requiring them to gif _him
their opinion_ howe he might chose him sich a wyf that wer no shrew.
Th_ese Philos_ofers with gret study and delyberacion determinid and
shewd this man that there _were iii espe_cial pointes, wherebi he shuld
sure know if a woman were a shrew. The _i point is_ that if a woman have
a shril voyce, it is a gret token that she is a shrew. The ii point is
that, if a woman have a sharp nose, then most commenly she is a shrew.
_The_ iii point that neuer doth mis is[144] that if she were [a]
kerchefer,[145] ye may be sure she is a shrew.

FOOTNOTES:

[143] Singer inserts _answered_ before _and said_; but the word does not
appear to be required.

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

¶ A Conning painter ther was dwelling in London, which had a fayre yong
wife, and for thingis that he had to do went ouer se; but because he was
somwhat jelous, he praed his wyfe to be content, that he might paint a
lamb upon her bely, and praed her it might remain ther, til he cam home
again; wherewith she was content. After which lamb so painted he
departid; and sone after that, a lusti yong merchaunt, a bacheler, came
and woed his wyf, and obteined her fauor, so that she was content he
shuld lye with her; which resortid to her and had his plesure oftymes;
and on a time he toke a pensell, and to the lamb he painted ii hornys,
wening to the wif that he had but refreshed the old painting. Than at
the last, about a yere after, her husband cam home again, and the first
night he lay with his wyfe, he loked uppon his wifes bely, and saw the
ii hornes painted there. He said to his wif, that some other body had
ben besy there, and made a new painting: for the picture that he painted
had no hornes and this hath hornes; to whome this wif shortly * *

  _cetera desunt._

  _Here endeth the booke of a C. mery Talys. Imprinted
  at London at the sygne of the meremayde
  at powlys gate nexte to chepesyde._

  ¶ _Cum priuelegio Regali._

FOOTNOTES:

[144] Orig. reads _the iii point is that never mis that, &c._

[145] A very costly article of female dress during the reigns of the
Tudor and Stuart sovereigns. It constituted part of the head-gear, and
from the way in which it was worn by some women, was calculated to
convey a notion of skittishness. In the _New Courtly Sonet of the Lady
Greensleeves_, printed in Robinson's "Handful of Pleasant Delites,"
1584, the lover is made to say to his mistress:--

"I bought three kerchers to thy head, That were wrought fine and
gallantly: I kept thee both at board and bed, Which cost my purse
well-favourdly."

ADDITIONAL NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

A C. MERY TALYS.

Introduction, vi.--I might have mentioned that Taylor the Water-Poet
cites _The Hundred Merry Tales_ as one of the authorities employed by
him in the composition of his _Sir Gregory Nonsense His Newes from No
Place_, 1622 (Taylor's Works, 1630), and see also Epistle Dedicatory to
Meredith's _Eusebius_, 1577.

P. 19.--This story is found in the _Ducento Novelle_ of Celio Malespini,
printed at Venice, 1609, 4o.

P. 22. _Of the Woman that sayd her Woer cam too late._

  "If thou be slow to speake, as one I knew,
  Thou wouldst assure thy selfe my counsels true;
  Hee (too late) finding her upon her knees
  In Church, where yet her husbands coorse she sees,
  Hearing the Sermon at his funerall,
  Longing to behold his buriall,
  This sutor being toucht with inward love,
  Approached neare his lovely sute to move,
  Then stooping downe he whispered in her eare
  Saying he bore her love, as might appeare,
  In that so soone he shewed his love unto her,
  Before any else did app[r]och to woo her,
  Alass (said she) your labour is in vaine,
  Last night a husband I did entertaine."

--_Uncasing of Machivils Instructions to his Sonne_, 1612,
Sign. C 3. Stories of this kind are of very common occurrence in the
modern collections of facetiæ.

P. 23. "When Davie Diker diggs, and dallies not,
       When smithes shoo horses, as they would be shod,
      _When millers toll not with a golden thumbe_."

--_The Steel Glas, a Satyre_, by George Gascoigne, Esquire (1576), Sign.
H 3 verso.

A writer in the _Retrospective Review_, New Series, ii. 326, states that
this story of the "Miller with the golden thumb" "is still (1854) a
favourite in Yorkshire."

P. 30. _Stumble at a Straw, &c._--This proverb is quoted in _Machivils
Instructions to his Sonne_, 1613, p. 16.

P. 35. _Of the good man that sayd to his wyfe. &c._

"Dr. _South_, visiting a gentleman one morning, was ask'd to stay
Dinner, which he accepted of; the Gentleman stept into the next Room and
told his Wife, and desired she'd provide something extraordinary.
Hereupon she began to murmer and scold, and make a thousand Words; till
at length, Her husband, provok'd at her Behaviour, protested, that if it
was not for the Stranger in the next Room, he would kick her out of
Doors. Upon which the Doctor, who heard all that passed, immediately
stept out, crying, _I beg, Sir, you'll make no Stranger of me_."

--_Complete London Jester_, ed. 1771, p. 73.

P. 44. _Draughthole._--See Dekker's _Guls' Horn Book_, 1609, ed. Nott,
p. 121-2-3.

P. 47. _Saynte Thomas of Acres._

  "A the Austen fryers
  They count us for lyers:
  And at Saynt Thomas of Akers
  They carpe us lyke crakers."

  --Skelton's _Colin Clout_ (Works, ed. Dyce, i. 357).

This tale is imitated in _Hobson's Conceits_.

P. 60. _Of the gentylman, that promysed the scoler of Oxforde a sarcenet
typet_--Sarcenet, at the period to which this story refers, was a
material which only certain persons were allowed to wear. See Nicolas'
note to a passage in the _Privy Purse Expenses of Elizabeth of York_, p.
220. This jest is transplanted by Johnson, with very little alteration,
into the _Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson_, 1607.

P. 78. _Therefore I pray thee, teche me my Pater noster, and by my
truthe, I shall therfore teche thee a songe of Robyn Hode that shall be
worth xx of it!_

The following passage from a poem, which has been sometimes ascribed to
Skelton, is a curious illustration of this paragraph:--

  Thus these sysmatickes,
  And lowsy lunatickes,
  With spurres and prickes
  Call true men heretickes.
  They finger their fidles,
  And cry in quinibles,
  Away these bibles,
  For they be but ridles!
  And give them Robyn Whode,
  To red howe he stode
  In mery grene wode,
  When he gathered good,
  Before Noyes ffloodd!

  _The Image of Ipocrysy_, Part iii.

P. 84. _Of the wyfe that bad, &c._

_Of swearing between a wyfe and her husband._

  "Cis, by this candle in my sleep I thought
  One told me of thy body thou wert nought.
  Good husband, he that told you ly'd, she said,
  And swearing, laid her hand upon the bread.
  Then eat the bread, quoth he, that I may deem
  That fancie false, that true to me did seem.
  Nay, sir, said she, the matter well to handle,
  Since you swore first, you first shall eat the candle."

_Wits Interpreter, the English Parnassus_, By John Cotgrave, 1662, p. 286.

P. 87. _Of the man that had the dome wyfe._

  "A certain man, as fortune fel,
  A woman tungles wedded to wive,
  Whose frowning countenance perceivig by live
  Til he might know what she ment he thought long,
  And wished ful oft she had a tung.
  The devil was redy, and appeered anon,
  An aspin lefe he bid the man take,
  And in her mouth should put but one,
  A tung, said the devil, it shall her make;
  Til he had doon his hed did ake;
  Leaves he gathered, and took plentie,
  And in her mouth put two or three.
  Within a while the medicine wrought:
  The man could tarry no longer time,
  But wakened her, to the end he mought
  The vertue knowe of the medicine;
  The first woord she spake to him
  She said: 'thou whoresonne knave and theef,
  How durst thou waken me, with a mischeef!'
    From that day forward she never ceased.
  Her boistrous bable greeved him sore:
  The devil he met, and him entreated
  To make her tungles, as she was before;
  'Not so,' said the devil, 'I will meddle no more.
  A devil a woman to speak may constrain,
  But all that in hel be, cannot let it again.'"

_Schole-house of Women_, 1542 (Utterson's _Select Pieces of Early
Popular Poetry_, ii. 74).

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

"One ask'd his Friend, why he, so proper a Man himself, marry'd so small
a Wyfe? _Why_, said he, _I thought you had known, that of all evils we
should chuse the least_."--_Complete London Jester_, ed. 1771, p. 65.

P. 92. _Of him that wolde gette, &c._

In the _Scholehouse of Women_, 1542, the same story is differently
related:--

  "A husband man, having good trust
  His wife to him bad be agreeable,
  Thought to attempt if she had be reformable,
  Bad her take the pot, that sod over the fire,
  And set it aboove upon the astire.
    She answered him: 'I hold thee mad,
  And I more fool, by Saint Martine;
  Thy dinner is redy, as thou me bad,
  And time it were that thou shouldst dine,
  And thou wilt not, I will go to mine.'
  'I bid thee (said he) vere up the pot.'
  'A ha! (she said) I trow thou dote,'
    Up she goeth for fear, at last,
  No question mooved where it should stand
  Upon his hed the pottage she cast,
  And heeld the pot stil in her hand.
  Said and swore, he might her trust,
  She would with the pottage do what her lust."

As this story in the _C. Mery Talys_ is defective in consequence of the
mutilation of the only known copy, the foregoing extract becomes
valuable, as it exhibits what was probably the sequel in the prose
version, from which the author of the _Scholehouse of Women_ was no
doubt a borrower.

P. 101. _If a thousande soules may dance on a mannes nayle._--This is a
different form of the common saying that a thousand angels can stand on
the point of the needle. "One querying another, whether a thousand
angels might stand on the point of a needle, another replied, 'That was
a _needles_ point.'"--Ward's _Diary_, ed. 1839, p. 94.

P. 106. Scot, in his _Discovery of Witchcraft_, 1584, ed. 1651, p. 191,
has a story, which bears the mark of being the same as the one here
entitled "Of the parson that stale the mylner's elys." The passage in
Scot, which may help to supply the unfortunate _lacuna_ in the _C. Mery
Talys_, is as follows:--

"So it was, that a certain Sir John, with some of his company, once went
abroad jetting, and in a moon-light evening, robbed a miller's weire and
stole all his eeles. The poor miller made his mone to Sir John himself,
who willed him to be quiet; for he would so curse the theef, and
all his confederates, with bell, book, and candel, that they should have
small joy of their fish. And therefore the next Sunday, Sir John got him
to the pulpit, with his surplisse on his back, and his stole about his
neck, and pronounced these words following in the audience of the
people:--

  'All you that have stolne the millers eeles,
    _Laudate Dominum de coelis_,
  And all they that have consented thereto,
    _Benedicamus Domino_.'

Lo (saith he), there is savoe for your eeles, my masters."

P. 108. _Of the parson that sayde masse of requiem, &c._--This story is
also in _Scoggin's Jests_, 1626, and perhaps the lacunæ may be supplied
from that source. Thus (the words supplied from _Scoggin's Jests_ are in
italics):--

"Then quod the prest: tel thy mayster that he must _say the Masse which
doth begin with a great R_. [when the boy returned, the Prest asked him
whether the Parson had told him what] masse, &c."

And again, a line or two lower down, there can be no doubt, on a
comparison of Scoggin's Jests, p. 74, what the missing words are. We
ought to read:--"but he had me tell you it began _with a great R_."

[Illustration: Johannes Ractell]

  ¶ Tales, and quicke

  answers, very mery,

  and pleasant to

  rede.

  _Mery_

  Tales, Wittie

  _Questions_

  and Quicke Answeres,

  Very pleasant to
  be Readde.

  IMPRINTED

  _at London

  in Fleete strete, by_

  H. Wykes.

  1567.

The Table.

                                                                    PAGE

  ¶ _Of hym that rode out of London, and had his
  seruaunt folowynge hym on foote._ i.                                15

  ¶ _Of hym that preached on saynte Christofers
  day._ ii.                                                           16

  ¶ _Of the frenche man that stroue with the
  Fanwaye for his armes._ iii.                                      _ib._

  ¶ _Of the curate that sayde our lorde fedde fyue
  hundred persones._ iiii.                                            17

  ¶ _Of hym that profered his doughter to one
  in maryage._ v.                                                     18

  ¶ _Of the men of the countrey, that came to
  London to bye a crucifixe of wodde._ vi.                          _ib._

  ¶ _Of hym that folowed his wyfe to buryeng._ vii.                   19

  ¶ _Of hym that felle in to the fyre._ viii.                       _ib._

  ¶ _Of hym that used to calle his seruaunte the
  kynge of fooles._ ix.                                               20

  ¶ _Of the yonge woman, that sorowed so greatly
  the deathe of her husbande._ x.                                     21

  ¶ _Of hym that kyssed the fayre mayde with the
  longe nose._ xi.                                                  _ib._

  ¶ _Of the uplandysshe mans answere concernyng
  the steple and pulpytte._ xii.                                      23

  ¶ _Of the beggers aunswere to mayster Skelton
  the poete._ xiii.                                                 _ib._

  ¶ _Of the chaplen that sayde our ladye mattens
  lyenge in his bedde._ xiiii.                                        24

  ¶ _Of hym that loste his purse in London._ xv.                      25

  ¶ _Of the marchaunt that loste his boudget betwene
  ware and London._ xvi.                                              26

  ¶ _Of him that was called kockold._ xvii.                           27

  ¶ _Of the iolus man._ xviii.                                        28

  ¶ _Of the fat woman that sat and solde frute._ xix.               _ib._

  ¶ _Of a poller that begyled a preste._ xx.                          29

  ¶ _Of Papirius pretextatus._ xxi.                                   31

  ¶ _Of the corrupte man of lawe._ xxii.                              33

  ¶ _Of kynge Lowes of Fraunce and the husbandman
  Conon._ xxiii.                                                      34

  ¶ _Of a picke thanke, that thought to begyle the
  same moste prudent kynge._ xxiiii.                                  37

  ¶ _Of Thales the great astronomer, the whiche
  felle in to a ditche._ xxv.                                         38

  ¶ _Of the astronomer that theues robbed._ xxvi.                     39

  ¶ _Of the plough man that wolde saye his pater
  noster with a stedfast mynde._ xxvii.                             _ib._

  ¶ _Of him that dreamed he founde golde._ xxviii.                    40

  ¶ _Of the crakynge yonge gentyll man that wolde
  ouerthrowe his enemys a myle of._ xxix.                             42

  ¶ _Of him that fell of a tre and brake a rybbe in
  his syde._ xxx.                                                     44

  ¶ _Of the fryer that brayed in his sermon._                         45

  ¶ _The oration of th ambassadour that was sent
  to Pope Urban._ xxxii.                                              46

  ¶ _Of the ambassadour that was sent to the prince
  Agis._ xxxiii.                                                      47

  ¶ _The answere of Cleomenes to the Samiens
  ambassadour._ xxxiiii.                                            _ib._

  ¶ _Of the wyse man Piso, and his seruant._ xxxv.                    48

  ¶ _Of the marchant that made a wager with his
  lorde._ xxxvi.                                                      49

  ¶ _Of the scrowes that the frier gaue out against
  the pestilence._ xxxvii.                                            51

  ¶ _Of the physition that used to wryte bylles
  ouer nyght called resceytes._ xxxviii.                              52

  ¶ _Of him that wolde confesse him by a lybell in
  wrytynge._ xxxix.                                                   53

  ¶ _Of the hermite of Padowe._ xl.                                   54

  ¶ _Of the uplandissh man that saw the kyng._ xli.                   56

  ¶ _Of the courtier that bade the boye to holde his
  horse._ xlii.                                                       57

  ¶ _Of the deceytfull scriuener._ xliii.                            _ib._

  ¶ _Of him that sayde he beleved his wyfe better
  than other, that she was chaste._ xliiii.                           59

  ¶ _Of him that paid his det with cryeng bea._ xlv.                  60

  ¶ _Of the woman that appeled from kynge Philip
  to kynge Philip._ xlvi.                                             62

  ¶ _Of the olde woman that prayd for the welfare
  of the tyran Denyse._ xlvii.                                        63

  ¶ _Of the phisitian Eumonus._ xlviii.                               64

  ¶ _Of Socrates and his scoldynge wyfe._ xlix.                       65

  ¶ _Of the phisitian that bare his pacient on hand
  he had eaten an asse._ l.                                         _ib._

  ¶ _Of the inholders wyfe, and her ii louers._ li.                   67

  ¶ _Of hym that healed franticke men._ lii.                          68

  ¶ _Of hym that sayd he was nat worthy to open
  the gate to the kynge._ liii.                                       70

  ¶ _Of Mayster Uauasour and Turpyn his manne._
  liiii.                                                            _ib._

  ¶ _Of hym that sought his wyfe, that was drowned,
  agaynst the streme._ lv.                                            72

  ¶ _Of hym that at a skyrmyssh defended hym
  valiauntly with his feete._ lvi.                                    73

  ¶ _Of hym that wolde gyue a songe to the tauerner
  for his dyner._ lvii.                                               74

  ¶ _Of the foole that thought him selfe deed, whan
  he was a lyue._ lviii.                                              75

  ¶ _Of the olde man and his sonne that brought
  his asse to the towne to sylle._ lix.                               78

  ¶ _Of him that sought his asse, and rode upon his
  backe._ lx.                                                         80

  ¶ _The answere of Fabius to Liuius._ lxi.                           81

  ¶ _The answere of Poltis the kynge of Trace to
  the Troyan ambassadours._ lxii.                                     82

  ¶ _The wyse answere of Haniball to kynge Antiochus
  concerninge his ryche army._ lxiii.                                 83

  ¶ _The wordes of Popilius the Romayn ambassadour
  to Antiochus the kynge._ lxiiii.                                  _ib._

  ¶ _Of hym that loued the marchantes wyfe._ lxv.                     84

  ¶ _Of the woman that couered her heed, and
  shewed up her tayle._ lxvi.                                         86

  ¶ _How Alexander was monisshed to slee the
  firste that he mette. lxvii._                                     _ib._

  ¶ _How the aunciente cyte of Lamsac was saued
  from destruction._ lxviii.                                          87

  ¶ _Howe Demosthenes defended a mayde._ lxix.                        88

  ¶ _Of him that desyred to be a gentylman._ lxx.                     89

  ¶ _Of the gentyllman and his shrewd wife._ lxxi.                    90

  ¶ _Of the two yonge men that rode to Walsyngham
  to gether._ lxxii.                                                  91

  ¶ _Of the yong man of Brugis and his spouse._
  lxxiii.                                                             92

  ¶ _Of him that made as he hadde ben a chaste
  lyuer._ lxxiiii.                                                    93

  ¶ _Of him that the olde roode fell on._ lxxv.                       94

  ¶ _Of the wydowe that wolde not wedde for bodily
  pleasure._ lxxvi.                                                   95

  ¶ _Of the couetous ambassadour, that wolde here
  no musike for sparinge of his purse._ lxxvii.                     _ib._

  ¶ _Howe Denyse the tyran of Syracuse serued
  a couetouse man._ lxxix.                                            97

  ¶ _Of the old man that quyngered the boy oute of
  the aple tre with stones._ lxxx.                                    98

  ¶ _Of the ryche man that was sycke and wolde
  not receyue a glyster._ lxxxi.                                      99

  ¶ _Of him that feyned him selfe deed, to proue
  what his wyfe wolde do._ lxxxii.                                  _ib._

  ¶ _Of the poure man, in to whose house theues
  brake by nyght._ lxxxiii.                                          101

  ¶ _Of him that shulde haue ben hanged for his
  scoffinge and his iestynge._ lxxxiiii.                            _ib._

  ¶ _Of him that had his goose stole._ lxxxv.                        102

  ¶ _Of the begger that sayde he was of kynne to
  kynge Phylip of Macedone._ lxxxvi.                                 103

  ¶ _Of Dantes answere to the iester._ lxxxvii.                     _ib._

  ¶ _Of hym that had sore eies._ lxxxviii.                           104

  ¶ _Of the olde woman that had sore eies._ lxxxix.                  105

  ¶ _Of hym that had the custody of a warde._  xc.                   106

  ¶ _Of the excellente peynter, that hadde foule
  chyldren._ xci.                                                   _ib._

  ¶ _Of the scoffer that made one a southsayer._ xcii.               107

  ¶ _Of the marchant of Florence, Charles._ xciii.                  _ib._

  ¶ _Of the chesshire man called Eulyn._ xciiii.                     108

  ¶ _Of hym that desyred to be sette vpon the
  pyllorye._ xcv.                                                    109

  ¶ _Of the wydowes daughter, that was sente to
  the abbot with a couple of capons._ xcvi.                          111

  ¶ _Of the two men that dranke a pynte of whyte
  wyne to gether._ xcvii.                                            112

  ¶ _Of the doctour that desyred to go with a fouler
  to catche byrdes._ xcviii.                                         114

  ¶ _Of hym that undertoke to teache an asse to
  spelle and rede._ xcix.                                            115

  ¶ _Of the fryer that confessed the fayre woman._ c.                116

  ¶ _Of the chapplen of Louen called syr Antonye
  that deceyued an vserer._ ci.                                      118

  ¶ _Of the same chaplen and his spiter._ cii.                       119

  ¶ _Of the olde manne that putte hym selfe in his
  sonnes handes._ ciii.                                              121

  ¶ _Of hym that had a flye peynted in his shilde._
  ciiii.                                                             122

  ¶ _Of the emperour Augustus and the olde men._ cv.                 123

  ¶ _Of Phocions oration to the Atheniens._ cvi.                    _ib._

  ¶ _Of Demosthenes and Phocion._ cvii.                              124

  ¶ _Of the aunswere of Phocion to them that brought
  hym a great gyfte from Alexander._ cviii.                         _ib._

  ¶ _Of Denyse the tyran and his sonne._ cix.                        125

  ¶ _Of Pomponius the Romayne that was taken
  and brought before Mithridates._ cx.                              _ib._

  ¶ _Of Titus and the scoffer._ cxi.                                 126

  ¶ _Of Scipio Nasica, and Ennius the poete._ cxii.                 _ib._

  ¶ _Of Fabius Minutius and his sonne._ cxiii.                       127

  ¶ _Of Aurelian the emperour, that was displeased,
  bycause the citie Tyana was closed
  agaynste him._ cxiiii.                                             128

  ¶ _Of the Nunne forced that durst not crie._ cxv.                  129

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

  ¶ _Of the vplandishe priest, that preached of
  Charitie._ cxvii.                                                  130

  ¶ _An other sayinge of the same preest._ cxviii.                   131

  ¶ _Of the fryer that praysed sainct Frauncis._
  cxix.                                                              133

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

  ¶ _Of the husband man that caused his iudge to
  geue sentence agaynst him selfe._ cxxi.                            134

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

  ¶ _Of the doctour that sayd, in Erasmus workes
  were heresies._ cxxiii.                                            136

  ¶ _Of the frier that preached at Paules crosse
  agaynst Erasmus._ cxxiiii.                                         137

  ¶ _Of an other frier that taxed Erasmus for
  writyng Germana theologia._ cxxv.                                  138

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

  ¶ _Of kyng Richarde the iii. and the Northern
  man._ cxxvii.                                                      139

  ¶ _Of the Canon and his man._ cxxviii.                             140

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

  ¶ _Of the gentilman that checked hys seruant
  for talke of ryngyng._ cxxx.                                       141

  ¶ _Of the blynde man and his boye._ cxxxi.                         142

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

  ¶ _How a mery man deuised to cal people to a
  playe._ cxxxiii.                                                   145

  ¶ _How the image of the dyuell was lost and
  sought._ cxxxiiii.                                                 148

  ¶ _Of Tachas, kyng of Aegypt, and Agesilaus._
  cxxxv.                                                             149

  ¶ _Of Corar the Rhetorician, and Tisias hys
  scoler._ cxxxvi.                                                   150

  ¶ _Of Augustus and Athenodorus the Phylosopher._
  cxxxvii.                                                           151

  ¶ _Of the frenche kyng and the brome seller._
  cxxxviii.                                                          152

  ¶ _An other tale of the same frenche kyng._
  cxxxix.                                                            153

  ¶ _What an Italyan fryer dyd in his preaching._
  cxl.                                                               155

TALES

AND

QUICKE ANSWERES.

¶ _Of hym that rode out of London and had his seruaunt folowynge on
foote._ i.

¶ There was a manne on a tyme that rode v myle out of London, and had
his seruaunt folowyng after hym on fote, the whiche came so nere, that
the horse strake hym a great stroke vpon the thye. The seruaunte,
thynkynge to be reuenged, toke and threwe a great stone at the horse,
and hytte his mayster on the raynes of the backe, who thought it had
bene his horse. He within a whyle loked backe and chydde his seruaunte,
bycause he came haltynge so farre behynde. The seruaunt aunswered: Sir,
your horse hath gyuen me suche a stroke vpon my thygh, that I can go no
faster. Trewely, sayde his mayster, the horse is a great kyckar, for
lyke-wyse with his hele right nowe[146] he gaue me a great stroke vpon
the raynes of my backe.

¶ _Of hym that preched on saynt Chrystophers day._ ii.

¶ A fryere that preached vpon a saynt Christofers daye, greatly laudynge
saynte Christopher, sayde: what a prerogatyue hadde he here in erthe in
his armes to beare our Sauioure! was there euer any lyke hym in grace? A
homely blount felowe, heryng hym aske twyse or thryse that question so
ernestly, answered: yes, mary: the asse that bare both hym and his
mother.

¶ _Of the frenche man, that stroue with the Janway for his armes._ iii.

¶ There was one amonge the Janwayes[147] that the Frenche kyng had hyred
to make warre agaynst the Englysshe men, which bare an oxe heed paynted
in his shelde: the whiche shelde a noble man of France challenged: and
so longe they stroue, that they must needs fyght for it. So, at a day
and place appoynted, the frenche gallaunt came into the felde, rychely
armed at all peces.[148] The Janway all vnarmed came also in to the
felde, and said to the frenche man: wherfore shall we this day fyght?
Mary, sayd the frenche man, I wyll make good with my body, that these
armes were myne auncetours' before thyne. What were your auncetours'
armes, quod the Janwaye? An oxe heed, sayd the frenche man. Than, sayde
the Janwaye, here needeth no batayle: for this that I beare is a cowes
heed.

By thys tale ye perceyue howe nycely the vayne braggynge of the frenche
man was deryded.

FOOTNOTES:

[146] Just now.

[147] The Genoese.

¶ _Of the curate that sayde our Lorde fedde U. C. persons._ iiii.

¶ A certayne curate, preachynge on a tyme to his parysshens sayde, that
our Lorde with fyue loues fedde v hundred persones. The clerke, herynge
hym fayle,[149] sayde softely in his eare: Sir, ye erre; the gospell is
v. thousande. Holde thy peace, foole, said the curate; they wyll scantly
beleue, that they were fyue hundred.

FOOTNOTES:

[148] At all points.

[149] Make a mistake.

¶ _Of hym that profered his doughter in mariage._ v.

¶ There was a man vpon a tyme, whiche profered his doughter to a yonge
man in mariage, the which yonge manne refused her, sayenge, that she was
to yonge to be maryed. I wys, quod her foolysshe father, she is more
able than ye wene. For she hath borne iii. children by our parysshe
cleeke.

Lo, by this tale ye se, that foles can nat telle what and whan to
speake: therfore it were best for them to kepe alway silence.

¶ _Of them that came to London to bye a Crucifixe._ vi.

¶ There were certayne men vpon a tyme sent out of a village to London to
bye a Crucifixe of wodde. The Caruer that they came to, seynge and
herynge by theyr wordes, that they were but folysshe blount felowes,
asked them, whether they wolde haue the ymage a lyue or elles deade;
whiche question so abasshed them, that they went a syde to deuyse
whether[150] was beste. So whan they had spoken priuely to gether, they
came to the caruer agayne and said they wold haue the image a lyue:
for, if theyr neighbours at home where nat so contente, they myghte
lyghtly[151] kylle hym.

FOOTNOTES:

[150] Which of the two.

¶ _Of hym that folowed his wyfe to buryenge._ vii.

¶ A man, that wepynge folowed his wyfe to buryenge, rebuked his lyttel
sonne, that wente with hym, because he sange, sayenge that he was
peuysshe and madde to synge at his mothers buryenge, but he shulde
rather be sory and wepe. The chylde answered: father, seynge ye gyue to
these prestes money to synge at my mothers buryenge, why be ye angry
with me, that aske you nothynge for my syngynge? His father aunswered:
the preestes offyce and thyne is nat all one.

By thys tale ye may perceyue that all thynges beseme nat euery body.

¶ _Of hym that felle into the fyre._ viii.

¶ A felowe, that was frowarde to his wyfe, vsed to be oute drynkynge
many tymes verye late. So on a nyghte he taryed so longe oute, that his
wyfe wente to bedde, and badde her mayde make a good fyre, and tarye vp
for hym. About xij. of the clocke home he came, and as he stode warmynge
him by the fyre his heed was so tottye,[152] that he felle into the
fyre. The mayde, seing him fall, ranne vp cryenge to her maistres, and
sayd: Alas! my maister is fallen and lyeth longe straughte in the fyre.
No force,[153] mayde, said her maistres, let him lye and take his
pleasure in his owne house, where so euer him listeth.

FOOTNOTES:

[151] A too literal translation of the French word _legierement_, which
ought here to have been rendered _readily_, rather than _lightly_.

¶ _Of him that vsed to cal his servant the kinge of foles._ ix.

¶ There was a man that had a dulle lumpisshe felow to his seruant,
wherfore he vsed commonly to call him the kinge of fooles. The felow at
laste waxed angry in his minde to be alway so called and sayde to his
mayster: I wolde that I were the kinge of foles: for then no man coulde
compare with me in largenes of kingedome, and also you shulde be my
subiect. By this one may perceiue, that to moch of one thing is not
good: many one calleth an other fole, and is more fole him selfe.

FOOTNOTES:

[152] Giddy.

[153] No matter.

¶ _Of the yonge woman that sorowed so greatly her husbondes deth._ x.

¶ There was a yonge woman, the whiche for her husbande, that laye a
dyenge, sorowed oute of all measure, wherfore her father came often to
her and sayde: daughter, leaue your mourninge: for I haue prouyded for
you a nother husbande, a farre more goodly man. But she did nat onely
continue in her sorowe, but also was greatly displeased, that her father
made any motion to her of an other husbande. As sone as she had buryed
her husbande, and the soule masse was songe, and that they were at
dyner, betwene sobbynge and wepynge she rowned[154] her father in the
eare, and sayde: father, where is the same yonge man, that ye said shuld
be min husbande? Lo, thus may ye se, that women sorowe ryght longe,
after theyr husbondes be departed to God.

¶ _Of him that kissed the mayd with the longe nose._ xi.

¶ A bablynge gentylman, the whiche on a tyme wolde haue bassed[155] a
fayre mayde, that had nat the leest nose, sayde: how shulde I kysse you:
youre nose wyll not suffre our lyppes to mete? The mayden, waxinge
shamfast and angrye in her mynde (for with his scoffe he a lyttell
touched her) answered on this wyse: syr, if ye can not kysse my mouth
for my nose, ye may kysse me there as I haue nere a nose.

Ye may by this tale lerne, that it is folye so to scoffe, that youre
selfe therby shulde be laughed to scorne agayne. One that is
ouer-couetous ought nat to attwite[156] an other of prodigalite. Thou
arte her brother (sayd Alcmeon to Adrastus) that slewe her husbande. But
he blamed nat Alcmeon for an others faute, but obiected against him his
owne. Thou hast with thy hande (sayd he) slayne thin owne mother. It is
nat ynough to haue rebukes redie, and to speke vyle wordes agaynst
other: for he, that so shuld do, ought to be without any vyce. For of
all men, sayth Plutarchus, he ought to be innocent and haue the lyfe
vnculpable, that wolde reprehende the fautes of other. The lyttell
morall boke[157] sayth:

  It is a foule thynge worthye rebuke and blame
  A vyce to reprehende and do the same.

FOOTNOTES:

[154] Whispered--_Singer_.

[155] Kissed, from the French word.

[156] _i.e._ twit or taunt.

[157] _Parvus et Magnus Catho_, printed by Caxton, n.d. 4to. Chaucer, in
his _Miller's Tale_ (_Chaucer's Works_, ed. Bell, i. 194), describes the
old carpenter of Oxford, who had married a young girl, as having
neglected to study [_Magnus_] _Catho_, which prescribed that marriages
ought to take place between persons of about the same age.

"He knew not Catoun, for his wyt was rude, That bad man schulde wedde
his similitude."

No doubt both _Cato_ and _Parvus Cato_ circulated in MS. before the
invention of printing. The former was printed by Caxton in 1483-4. See
Blades (_Life and Typography of William Caxton_, ii. 53-4).

¶ _The Uplandisshe mans answere, concerninge the steple and pulpit._
xii.

¶ In a certayne place, on a tyme the perysshyns[158] had pulled downe
theyr steple, and had buylded it vp newe agayne, and had put out theyr
belles to be newe-founded: and bycause they range nat at the bysshops
entrynge into the village, as they were wont and acustomed to do, he
asked a good homely man, whether they had no belles in theyr steple: he
answered: no! Than, sayde the bysshop, ye may sylle aweye[159] your
steple. Why so, and please your lordship, sayd the man? Bycause hit
stondeth vacant, said the bysshop. Than sayde the man, we may well sylle
away an other thinge, that we haue in our churche. What is that, sayd
the bysshop? That is a pulpit, quod he. For this vii yere ther was no
sermon made therin.

¶ _Of the beggers answere to M. Skelton the poete._ xiii.

¶ A poure begger, that was foule, blacke and lothlye to beholde, cam
vpon a tyme vnto mayster Skelton the poete, and asked him his almes. To
whom mayster Skelton sayde: I praye the, gette the awaye fro me: for
thou lokeste as though thou camest out of helle. The poure man,
perceyuing he wolde gyue him no thynge, answerd: For soth, syr, ye say
trouth, I came oute of helle. Why dyddest thou nat tary styl there, quod
mayster Skelton? Mary, syr, quod the begger, there is no roume for suche
poure beggers as I am: all is kepte for suche gentyl men as ye be.

FOOTNOTES:

[158] Parishioners. This jest is included by Johnson in his _Pleasant
Conceits of Old Hobson, the Merry Londoner_, 1607 (reprinted 1843. p.
17).

[159] Sell away.

¶ _Of the chaplen, that sayde our lady matens a bed._ xiiii.

¶ A certayne lorde's chaplen bosted on a tyme, syttynge at his lorde's
table, that he sayde our lady matyns euery morninge besyde all his other
seruice and orisons. The lorde, to proue whether his chaplen did as he
sayde, arose yerly on a morninge, and went to his chaplen's chamber, and
called hym, saying: where be ye, syr wylliam? Here, and please your
lordshyp (quod he), in my bedde. Why, sayd the lorde, I thought ye had
ben vp and sayenge of our lady matyns. I am nowe sayinge it, quod the
chappleyn. What! lienge in your bedde, quod the lord? why, syr, sayd the
chapplain, where shudde women be serued but a bedde?

¶ _Of him that lost his purse in London._ xv.

¶ A certayn man of the countre, the whiche for busines came vp to
London, lost his purse as he wente late in the euenynge; and by cause
the somme therin was great, he sette vp bylles in dyuers places that, if
any man of the cyte had founde the purse, and wolde brynge it agayne to
him, he shulde haue welle for his laboure. A gentyll man of the Temple
wrote vnder one of the byls, howe the man shulde come to his chamber,
and tolde [him] where. So, whan he was come, the gentyll man asked him
fyrst what was in the purse; secondli, what countrey man he was, and
thirdly, what was his name? Syr, quod he, xx nobles was inne the pourse;
I am halfe a walshe man; and my name is John vp Janken.[160] John vp
Jankyn (sayde the gentyll man), I am gladde I knowe thy name: for so
longe as I lyue, thou nor none of thyn name shal haue my purse to kepe;
and nowe fare well, gentyll John vp Jankyn. Thus he was mocked to scorne
and went his way.

Hereby ye may perceyue, that a man can not haue a shrewde tourne, but
otherwhyle a mocke withall.

FOOTNOTES:

[160] John ap Jenkin.

¶ _Of the marchaunt that lost his bodgette betwene Ware and Lon[don]._
xvi.

¶ A certayne marchant betwene Ware and London lost his bodget and a c
li. therin, wherfore he caused to proclayme in dyuers market townes,
that who so euer[161] founde the sayde bodget, and wolde bryng it
agayne, shulde haue xx li. for his labour. An honeste husbandeman, that
chaunsed to fynde the sayde bodget, brought it to the baily[162] of
Ware, accordynge to the crye, and required his xx li. for his labour, as
it was proclaymed. The couetous marchant, whan he vnderstode this, and
that he muste nedes pay xx li. for the fyndynge, he sayd, that there was
an c and xx li. in his bodgette, and so wolde haue hadde his owne money
and xx li. ouer. So longe they stroue, that the matter was brought
before mayster Vauasour the good Judge. Whan he vnderstode by the
bayllye, that the crye was made for a bodget with an c li. therin, he
demanded where hit[163] was? Here, quod the bailly, and toke it vnto
him. Is it iust an c li. sayde the Judge? Ye, trulye, quod the baillye.
Holde, sayde the Judge (to him that founde the bodget), take thou this
money vnto thyne owne vse: and if thou hap to fynde a bodgette with a c
and xx li. therin, brynge it to this honest marchante man. It is myn; I
lost no more but an c li. quod the marchant. Ye speke nowe to late, quod
the Judge.

By this tale ye may vnderstande, that they that go about to disceyue
other, be often tymes disceyued them selfe. And some tyme one fallethe
in the dytche, that he him selfe made.

FOOTNOTES:

[161] The original has _who so ever that_.

[162] Baillie or magistrate, from the old French word _bailli_.

[163] This form of _it_, though it does not occur in the _C. Mery
Tales_, is very common in old English works; see the _Seven Sages_,
edited by Wright, 1845, for the Percy Society, and the _Anglo-Saxon
Passion of St. George_, 1850 (Percy Soc.).

¶ _Of him that was called cuckolde._ xvii.

¶ A certayne man, whiche vpon a tyme in company betwene ernest and game
was called cuckolde, went angerly home to his wife and sayde: wyfe, I
was this day in company called kockolde; whether am I one or nat? Syr,
truly, sayde she, ye be none. By my fayth (sayde he), thou shall swere
so vpon this boke; and helde to her a boke. She denyed it longe; but
whan she sawe there was no remedy, she sayde: well, sythe I must nedes
swere, I promyse you by my faythe, I will swere truly. Yea, do so, quod
he. So she toke the boke in her hande and sayd: By this boke, syr, ye
be a cokolde. By the masse, hore, sayd he, thou lyest! thou sayste it
for none other cause but to anger me.

By this tale ye may parceyue, that it is nat best at all tymes for a man
to beleue his wife, though she swere vpon a boke.

¶ _Of the iolous man._ xviii.

¶ A man that was ryght iolous on his wyfe, dreamed on a nyght as he laye
a bed with her and slepte, that the dyuell aperd vnto him and sayde:
woldest thou nat be gladde, that I shulde put the in suretie of thy
wife? Yes, sayde he. Holde, sayde the dyuell, as longe as thou hast this
rynge vpon thy fynger, no man shall make the kockolde. The man was
gladde therof, and whan he awaked, he founde his fynger in * * * * * * *.

¶ _Of the fatte woman that solde frute._ xix.

¶ As a greate fatte woman sate and solde frute in a Lente, there came a
yonge man bye, and behelde her frute ernestly, and specially he caste
his eyes on her fygges. She asked him, as was her gyse: syr, wyll ye
haue any fygges; they be fayre and good? And whan she sawe he was
content, she sayde, howe manye? wyll ye haue fyue li? He was content.
So she wayed him oute fyue li. into his lappe: and whyle she layde aside
her balaunce, he wente his waye faire and softely. Whan she tourned to
haue taken her[164] money, and sawe her chapman go his waye, she made
after apace, but faster with her voice than with hir fote. He,
dissemblinge the mater, wente styll forth on. She made suche a cryenge
and folkes gathered so faste, that he stode styll. So in the preace he
shewed to the people all the matter, and said: I bought nothing of hir;
but that that she vnbyd gaue me, I toke; and if she wyll, I am contente
to go before the Justice.

¶ _Of a poller that begyled a prest._ xx.

¶ Vpon a tyme in Andwarpe a false pollynge[165] felowe came vnto a
certeyne preste, that hadde his purse hangynge at his gyrdell
strouttinge[166] oute full of money that he a lytell before had
resceyued, and gentilly gretynge hym sayde: good Mayster, our parysshe
preste bad me bye him a palle[167] (which is the vppermoste vestement,
that a preste syngeth masse in); if it wolde please you to go with me, I
were moche bounde to you: for our curat and you be of one stature. The
preste was contente. Whan they came there where he wolde bye it, the
palle was broughte forth, and the preste dyd it on: the poller loketh
and toteth[168] thereon, and preyseth it, but he layde a wyte,[169] that
it was to shorte before. Nay, quod the syller, the faute is nat in the
vestement, hit is the strouttinge purse vnderneth that beareth hit up.
Shortely to speake, the prest dyd of his purse, and layde hit by, and
than the vestiment they behelde agayne. Whan the poller sawe the preste
was tourned, he snatched vp the purs, and toke his legges and to
go.[170] The preste rounne after with the vestement on his backe: and
the vestement-maker after the prest. The prest bad stop the thefe, the
siller bad stop the prest, the poller bade holde the mad preste, and
euery man wende[171] he had ben mad in dede, bicause he had the
vestement on his backe; and so whyle one letted an other, the false
poller went his waye.

FOOTNOTES:

[164] The original has _whan she turned her to have taken money_.

[165] Cheating.

[166] The word seems to be here used in a rare sense. The meaning is
_bulging_.

[167] This word (Latinè _pallium_) was originally used in a special and
exclusive signification.

[168] Singer explains this to mean _gazeth_.

[169] Found fault with it.

[170] There is probably some corruption here. We ought perhaps to read:
"and toke _to_ his legges _as if_ to go."

[171] Weened.

¶ _Of Papirius pretextatus._ xxi.

¶ AULUS GELLIUS[172] reherseth, how the Senatours of Rome on a tyme
helde a great counsaile. Before which tyme the senatours chyldren,
called of their garmentes _Pueri pretextati_, vsed to come into the
parlemente house with theyre fathers. So at this tyme a chylde, called
Papyrius, cam in with his father and herde the great counsayl the which
was straytely commaunded to be kept secrete, tyll hit was decreed. Whan
this chylde came home, his mother asked him what the counsaile was. The
chylde answered, hit oughte nat to be tolde. Now was his mother more
desyrous to knowe hit than she was before; wherfore she enquered more
straitly and more violentlye. The chylde, beinge sore constrayned of his
mother, shortelye deuysed a propre merye leasynge.[173] It is reasoned
in the parlemente (quod he), whether of both[174] shulde be more
profytable for the comon welth, a man to haue ii wiues or els a woman ii
husbandes. Whan she harde him saye so, her mynde was pacified: and
forth-with she wente and tolde hit to the other matrones.

On the morowe, a great company of the moste notable wyues of Rome came
to the parlemente house weping, and humbly prayeng, that rather one
woman shuld be maryed vnto ii men than ii wemen to one man. The
Senatours entringe into the court, what with the sodayn assembling of
the wyues and of their request, were right sore astonied. Than the
childe Papyrius stode forth, and enformed the senatours, how his mother
wold haue compelled him to vtter the secrete counsayle: and howe he, to
contente her mynde, feyned that leasynge. For which dede the Senatours
right hyghly commended the childes fydelite and wytte. And forth-with
they made a law, that no child after that (saue only Papirius) shuld
come in to the parlement house with his father. And for his great
prudence in that tender age he hadde gyuen to hym, to his great honour,
this surname _Pretextatus_.

Whereby ye may se, that the hygh treasure of man, and greattest grace,
rested in well-ordrynge of the tonge. The moste prudent poete Hesiodus
sayth: The tonge shulde not ronne at large, but be hydde as a precious
treasure: for, of all the membres of man, the tonge yll-ordered is the
worste. The tonge blasphemeth God. The tonge slaundereth thy neyghbour.
The tonge breaketh peace, and stereth vp cruell warre, of all thynges
to mankynde moste mischefull; the tonge is a broker of baudrye; the
tonge setteth frendes at debate; the tonge with flatterynge, detraction
and wanton tales enfecteth pure and clene myndes; the tonge without
sworde or venome strangleth thy brother and frende; and brefely to
speake, the tonge teacheth cursed heresyes, and of good Christiens
maketh Antichristes.

FOOTNOTES:

[172] _Noctes Atticæ_, translated by Belue, vol. i. p. 86. The _Historie
of Papyrius Prætextatus_ is related in the 18th Novel of the 1st Tome of
Painter's _Palace of Pleasure_.

[173] Deceit, or what would now be called a _white lie._

[174] _i.e._ which of the two.

¶ _Of the corrupte man of lawe._ xxii.

¶ There was a man of lawe, whiche on a tyme shulde be iudge betwene a
poure man and a ryche: the poure man came, and gaue hym a glasse of oyle
(whiche was as moche as his power wold stretche to) and desyred, that he
wolde be good in his matter. Yes, quod he, the matter shall passe[175]
with the. The riche man, perceyuynge that, sente to the same iudge a
fatte hogge, and prayed hym to be fauorable on his syde. Wherfore he
gaue iudgement agaynst the poure man. Whan the poure man sawe that he
was condemned, pytously complaynyng he sayd to the Judge: syr, I gaue
you a glasse of oyle, and ye promysed by your faith, the matter shulde
passe with me. To whom the iuge sayde: for a trouth there came a hogge
into my house, whiche founde the glasse of oyle, and ouerthrewe and
brake it: and so through spyllynge of the oyle I cleane forgot the.

  Wherby ye may se, that euermore amonge
  The ryche hath his wyll, the pore taketh wronge.

FOOTNOTES:

[175] Go easily.

¶ _Of kynge Lowes of France, and the husbandman._ xxiii.

¶ What tyme kynge Lowes of Fraunce, the xi of that name, bycause of the
trouble that was in the realme, kepte hym selfe in Burgoyne, he chaunced
by occasion of huntinge to come acqueynted with one Conon a homely
husbande man, and a plaine meanynge felowe, in whiche maner of men the
hygh princes greatly delyte them. To this man's house the kynge ofte
resorted from huntynge. And with great pleasure he wolde eate radysshes
rotes with hym. Within a whyle after, whan Lowes was restored home, and
had the gouernaunce of France in his hande, this husbandeman was
counsailed by his wyfe to take a goodiy sorte of radysshe rotes and to
go and gyue them to the kyng, and put him in mind of the good chere,
that he had made hym at his house. Conon wolde nat assente therto. What
folysshe woman! quod he, the greate princes remembre nat suche smalle
pleasures. But for all that she wolde not reste, tyll Conon chose out a
great syght[176] of the fayrest rootes, and toke his iourney towarde the
courte. But as he went by the way, he yete vp all the radysshes save one
of the greattest.

Conon peaked[177] into the courte, and stode where the kynge shulde
passe by: By and by the kynge knewe hym, and called hym to hym. Conon
stepte to the kynge and presented his rote with a gladde chere. And the
kynge toke it more gladly, and bad one, that was nerest to hym, to laye
it vp amonge those iewels that he best loued; and than commaunded Conon
to dyne with hym. Whan dyner was done, he thanked Conon: and whan the
kyng sawe that he wolde departe home, he commaunded to gyue hym a
thousande crownes of golde for his radisshe rote. Whan this was knowen
in the kinges house, one of the court gaue the kyng a propre mynion[178]
horse. The king, perceiuing that he dyd it, bicause of the liberalite
shewed vnto Conon, with very glad chere he toke the gyft, and counsailed
with his lordes, howe and with what gyft he myght recompence the
horse, that was so goodly and faire. This meanewhile the picke-thank had
a meruailous great hope, and thought in his mynde thus: if he so wel
recompensed the radysshe rote, that was gyuen of a rusticall man, howe
moche more largely wyl he recompence suche an horse, that is gyuen of me
that am of the courte? Whan euery man had sayde hys mynde, as though the
kynge had counsayled aboute a great weyghty matter, and that they hadde
longe fedde the pycke thanke with vayne hope, at last the kyng sayd: I
remembre nowe, what we shal gyue hym; and so he called one of his
lordes, and badde hym in his eare go fetche hym that that he founde in
his chambre (and told hym the place where) featly[179] folded vp in
sylke. Anone he came and brought the radysshe roote, and euen as it was
folded vp, the kyng with his owne hand gaue it to the courtier, sayenge:
we suppose your horse is well recompensed with this iewell, for it hath
cost vs a thousande crownes. The courtier went his way neuer so glad,
and whan he had vnfolded it, he found none other treasure but the
radysshe rote almoste wethered.[180]

FOOTNOTES:

[176] This old phrase is still in colloquial use. "A good sight better,"
or a "great sight more," are well understood terms among us, though
vulgar.

[177] A rare word as a verb, though the adjective _peakish_ is common
enough in old English writers. By _peaked_ we must understand "stole" or
got admission by stealth.

[178] A literal rendering of the Fr. _mignon_, delicate or dainty.

[179] Neatly.

[180] The germ of this and the fallowing story may be found in Lane's
_Arabian Tales and Anecdotes_, p. 112.

¶ _Of an other picke-thanke, and the same kinge._ xxiiii.

¶ Vpon a time a seruant of the fornamed kinges, seynge a louce crepe
vpon the kynges robe, kneled downe and put vp his hande, as though he
wolde do somwhat, and as the kynge bowed hym self a lyttell, the man
toke the louce, and conueyed her away priuely. The kynge asked hym what
it was, but he was ashamed to shew. So moche the kyng instanted[181]
hym, that at laste he confessed hit was a louce. Oh! quod the kynge, it
is good lucke: for this declareth me to be a man. For that kynde of
vermyne principally greueth mankynde, specially in youth. And so the
kynge commanded to gyue him fyfty crownes for his labour.

Nat longe after, an other, seynge that the kynge gaue so good a rewarde
for so smalle a pleasure, came and kneled downe, and put vp his hande,
and made as though he toke and conueyed some what priuelye awaye. And
whan the kynge constrayned him to tell what hit was, with moche
dissemblyng shamfastnes he sayd, hit was a flee. The kynge, perceyuinge
his dissimulation, sayd to him: what, woldest thou make me a dogge? and
so for his fifty crownes, that he prooled[182] for, the kinge commaunded
to gyue him fiftye strypes.

Wherby ye may note, that there is great difference betwene one that doth
a thynge of good will and mynde, and hym that doth a thynge by crafte
and dissymulation; whiche thinge this noble and moste prudent prince
well vnderstode. And one ought to be well ware[183] howe he hath to do
with highe princes and their busynes. And if _Ecclesiast[es]_ forbid,
that one shall mynde none yll to a kynge, howe shulde any dare speake
yll?

FOOTNOTES:

[181] Importuned.

¶ _Of Thales the astronomer that fell in a ditch._ xxv.

¶ Laertius wryteth,[184] that Thales Milesius wente oute of his house
vpon a time to beholde the starres for a certayn cause: and so longe he
went backeward, that he fell plumpe in to a ditche ouer the eares;
wherfore an olde woman, that he kepte in his house laughed and sayde to
him in derision: O Thales, how shuldest thou haue knowlege in heuenly
thinges aboue, and knowest nat what is here benethe vnder thy feet?

FOOTNOTES:

[182] Prowled.

[183] Careful.

[184] Diogenes Laertius (_Lives of the Philosophers_, translated by
Yonge. 1853, p. 18).

¶ _Of the astronomer that theues robbed._ xxvi.

¶ As an astronomer that satte vpon a tyme in the market place of a
certayne towne, and toke vpon him to dyuine and to shewe what theyr
fortunes and chaunses shuld be, that came to him: there came a felow and
tolde him (as it was in deede) that theues had broken in to his house,
and had borne away all that he hadde. These tidinges greued him so sore,
that all hevy and sorowefullye he rose vp and wente his waye. Whan the
felowe sawe him do so, he sayde: O thou folissh and madde man, goest
thou aboute to dyuine other mennes matters, and arte ignorant in thine
owne?

This tale (besyde the blynde errour of suche foles) toucheth them, that
handell theyr owne matters lewdly, and wyll entermedle in other mens.
And Cicero saythe: That wyse man, that can nat profytte him selfe, hath
but lytell wysdome.

¶ _Of the plough man that sayde his pater noster._ xxvii.

¶ A rude vplandisshe ploughman, on a tyme[185] reprouynge a good holy
father sayd, that he coude saye all his prayers with a hole mynde and
stedfaste intention, without thinkyng on any other thynge. To whome the
good holy man sayde: Go to, saye one _Pater noster_ to the ende, and
thynke on none other thinge, and I wyll gyue the myn horse. That shall I
do, quod the plough man, and so began to saye: _Pater noster qui es in
celis_, tyll he came to _Sanctificetur nomen tuum_, and than his thought
moued him to aske this question: yea, but shal I haue the sadil and
bridel withal? And so he lost his bargain.

FOOTNOTES:

[185] The orig. reads _whiche on a tyme_. I have therefore ventured to
strike out the unnecessary word.

¶ _Of him that dreamed he fonde golde._ xxviii.

¶ There was a man, that sayde in company vpon a tyme, howe he dreamed on
a nyghte, that the deuyll ledde him in to a felde to dygge for golde.
Whan he had founde the golde, the deuyll sayde: Thou canste not carye
hit a waye nowe, but marke the place, that thou mayste fetche hit an
other tyme. What marke shall I make, quod the man? S**** ouer hit, quod
the deuyl: for that shall cause euery man to shonne the place, and for
the hit shall be a speciall knowlege. The man was contente, and dyd so.
So whan he awaked oute of his slepe, he parceyued, that he had foule
defyled his bedde. Thus betwene stynke and dyrte vp he rose, and made
him redy to go forth: and laste of all he put on his bonette, wherin
also the same nighte the catte hadde s***; For great stinke wherof he
threwe away his couer knaue,[186] and was fayne to wasshe his
busshe.[187] Thus his golden dreame tournedde all to dyrte.[188]

Tibullus sayth: Dreames in the nyght begylen, and cause fearefull myndes
to drede thynges that neuer shalbe. But yet Claudian sayeth: Dreames in
sondrye wyse fygured gyueth warnynge of vnluckye thynges. And Valerius
Maximus wryteth that, as Hamylcar besiged the cyte of Syracuse, he
dreamed, that he harde a voyce saye, that he the nexte daye shulde suppe
with in the cyte. Wherfore he was ioyfull, as thoughe the victorye from
heuen had ben to him promised. And so [he] apparayled his hooste to
assaute the towne: in whiche assaute he chaunced to be taken in his
lodgynge by them of the cyte, and so bounden lyke a prysoner, they ledde
hym in to theyr cite. Thus he more disceyued by hope, than by his dreme,
supped that nyghte within the citie as a prisoner, and nat as a
conquerour, as he presumed in his mynde. Alcibiades also hadde a
certayne vision in the nyghte of his miserable ende.

This tale sheweth that dreames sometyme come to passe by one meane or
other. And he that desyreth to knowe more of dreames wrytten in our
englysshe tonge, let hym rede the tale of the nounnes preste, that G.
Chauser wrote: and for the skeles howe dreames and sweuens[189] are
caused, the begynnynge of the Boke of Fame, the whiche the sayde Chauser
compiled with many an other matter full of wysedome.

FOOTNOTES:

[186] A cant term for a bonnet.

[187] Thick bushy hair.

[188] See Brand's _Popular Antiquities_, ed. 1849, iii. 132, where Brand
cites Melton's _Astrologaster, or the Figure-Caster_, 1620, to show that
to dream of the devil and of gold was deemed an equally lucky portent.
To dream of gold is also pronounced a happy omen in the _Countryman's
Counsellor_. 1633.

¶ _Of the crakynge yonge gentyll man, that wold ouerthrowe his enmyes a
myle of._ xxix.

¶ A yonge gentyl man in a cite that was beseged, rebuked the other and
called them cowherdes, bycause they wolde nat issue out and fight with
their enmyes. So he armed at all peces lepte on horsebacke, and galopte
out at the gates. Whan he, thus crakynge,[190] hadde prycked on aboute
a myle, he encountred with manye, that retourned home from the
skyrmysshe sore wounded; wherfore he beganne to ryde a softer pace. But
whan he harde the hydous noyse, and sawe a myle frome hym howe fyerslye
they of the citie and theyr enmyes assayled eche other, he stode euen
stylle. Than one, that harde his crakynge before, asked hym, why he rode
no nere[r] to fyghte with their enmyes. He answered and sayde: Trewly I
fynde nat my selfe so able and stronge in armes, that my harte wyl serue
me to ryde any nere[r] to them.

Wherby may be noted, that nat onely the force of the mynde, but also of
the body, shulde be wel consydred. Nor one shulde nat bragge and bost to
do more than he maye welle atcheue. There be many, whiche with their
wordes slee[191] theyr enmyes a great waye of, but whan they se theyr
enmye, they put on a sure breste plate and a gorget of a myle of
lengthe. Plutarche wryteth that, whan Memnon made warre for Darius
agaynste Alexander, he harde one of his souldyours crake and speake many
yll wordes agaynst Alexander; wherfore he rapte hym on the pate with a
iauelynge, sayenge: I hyred the to fyght agaynste Alexandre, and not to
crake and prate.

Otherwhyle sayth Quintus Curtius, the couetousnes of glory and
insaciable desire of fame causeth, that we thynke nothing ouermoche or
ouer hard. But Salust saith: Before a man enterprise any feate, he ought
fyrst to counsayle: and after to go in hande there with nat
heedlynge[192] nor slowly.

FOOTNOTES:

[189] Dreams. Thus Chaucer, in the opening lines of the _House of Fame_
(called in the old editions and in the present text the _Boke of Fame_),
says:--

"God turne us every dreme to goode! For hyt is wonder thing, be the
roode, To my wytte, what causeth swevenes Eyther on morwes, or on
evenes."

For examples of the later use of the word, see Nares by Halliwell and
Wright, art. _Sweven_.

[190] Boasting.

[191] Singer reads _flee_.

¶ _Of hym that fell of a tre and brake his rybbe._ xxx.

¶ There was a husbande man whiche, on a tyme, as he clymbed a tree to
gette downe the frute, felle and brake a rybbe in his syde. To comforte
hym there came a very merye man whiche, as they talked to gether sayde,
he wolde teache hym suche a rule that, if he wold folowe it, he shuld
neuer falle from tree more. Marye, sayde the hurte man, I wolde ye hadde
taught me that rule before I felle: neuer the lesse, bycause it may
happe to profyte me in tyme to come, lette me here what it is. Than the
other sayd: Take hede, that thou go neuer downe faster than thou wentest
vp, but discende as softly as thou clymmest vp; and so thou shalt neuer
fall.

By this tale ye may note, that abidyng and slownesse otherwhile are
good and commendable, specially in those thynges, wherin spede and
hastines cause great hurte and damage. Seneca saythe: A sodayne thynge
is nought.

FOOTNOTES:

[192] Headlong.

¶ _Of the frier that brayde in his sermon._ xxxi.

¶ A fryer, that preached to the people on a tyme, wolde otherwhyle crie
out a loude (as the maner of some fooles is) whiche brayenge dyd so moue
a woman that stode herynge his sermone, that she wepte. He, parceyuyng
that, thought in his mynde her conscience being prycked with his wordes
had caused her to wepe. Wherfore, whan his sermon was done, he called
the woman to hym, and asked what was the cause of her wepynge, and
whether his wordes moued her to wepe or nat? Forsoth, mayster (sayde
she), I am a poure wydowe: and whan myne husbande dyed, he lefte me but
one asse, whiche gotte parte of my lyuynge, the whiche asse the wolues
haue slayne: and nowe, whan I hard your hyghe voyce, I remembred my
selye asse: for so he was wonte to braye bothe nyghte and daye. And
this, good mayster, caused me to wepe. Thus the lewde brayer, rather
than preacher, confuted with his folysshenes, wente his way; which,
thinkynge for his brayenge lyke an asse to be reputed for the beste
preacher, deserued well to here hym selfe to be compared to an asse.

  For truely one to suppose hym selfe wyse
  Is vnto folysshenes the very fyrste gryce.[193]

¶ _The oration of the ambassadour sent to Pope Urban._ xxxii.

¶ Out of the towne of Parusyn were sente vpon a tyme thre ambassadours
vnto our holye father Pope Urban, whom they founde sycke in his bed.
Before whose holynes one of the sayde ambassadours had a longe and a
tedious oration, that he had deuysed by the way; the whiche, er it was
ended, ryght sore anoyed the popes holynesse. Whan he hadde all sayde,
the pope asked: Is there anye thynge elles? An other of the thre,
percevuynge howe greately the ambagious[194] tale greued the popes
holynes to here it out, sayde: Moost holy father, this is all the
effece, and if your holynes spede vs nat forthewith, my felowe shall
telle his tale agayne. At whiche sayenge the pope laughed, and caused
the ambassadours to be spedde incontinent.

By this tale one maye lerne, that superfluous wordes ought dilygently to
be auoyded, specially where a matter is treated before an hygh prince.

FOOTNOTES:

[193] Step, from the Latin _grassus_ or _gressus_.

[194] Circumlocutory.--SINGER.

¶ _Of the ambassadour sent to the prince Agis._ xxxiii.

¶ Nat moch vnlike the forsayd tale, Plutarche reciteth that, whan the
ambassadour of the Abderites had at laste ended a longe tale to the
prynce Agis, he asked what answere he shulde make to them that sent him?
Say vnto them (quod the prince), whan thou comest home, that all the
longe tyme that thou didest dispende in tellynge thy tale, I sate styll
and harde the paciently.

¶ _The answere of Cleomenes to the Samiens ambassadour._ xxxiiii.

¶ Plutarche rehersethe also, that what tyme an ambassadour, that was
sente frome the Samiens, had made a longe oration vnto Cleomines, to
perswade him to make warre to Polycrates, he answered the ambassadour on
this maner of wyse: I remembre nat, what thou sayddest in the begynnyng
of thy tale, and therfore I vnderstand nat the myddis; and thy
conclusion pleaseth me nat.

Wherby we may perceyue, that the noble wyse men loue fewe wordes. And
as the Rhetoriciens say: amonge the vices of an oratoure, there is none
more hurtefull than the superfluous heape of wordes.

¶ _Of the wyse man Piso and his seruant._ xxxv.

¶ A certayn wise man called Piso, to auoyde greuous ianglynge,
commaunded that his seruauntes shulde saye nothinge, but answere to that
that thei were demaunded, and no more. Vpon a daye the sayde Piso made a
dyner, and sente a seruaunt to desire Clodius the Consull to come and
dyne with him. Aboute the houre of diner al the guestes came saue
Clodius, for whom they taryed tyll hit was almoste nyght, and euer sente
to loke if he came. At laste Piso sayde to his seruaunt: diddest thou
byd the Consull come to dyner? Yes, truely, sayde he. Why cometh he nat
than, quod Piso? Mary, quod the seruaunt, he sayde he wolde nat.
Wherfore toldest me nat so incontinent, quod Piso? Bycause, quod the
seruaunt, ye dyd nat aske me.

By this tale, seruauntes may lerne to kepe theyr maisters biddyng: but
yet I aduise maysters therby to take hede, howe they make an
iniunction.

¶ _Of the marchant that made a wager with his lord._ xxxvi.

¶ A certayne marchaunt, before his lorde that he was subiecte vnto,
amonge other thynges praysed his wyfe, and sayde, that he neuer harde
her lette a *****. Wherat the lorde meruailed, and sayd it was
impossible: and so layde and ventred a souper with the marchant, that
before thre monethes were ended, he shulde here her lette a ***** or
twayne. On the morowe, the lorde came to the marchaunt, and borowed
fyfty crownes, the whiche he promysed trewely to repay agayne within
viij dayes after. The marchaunt ryght sore agaynst his wylle lent it,
and thoughtfully abode, tyll the daye of payment was come: and than he
wente to his lorde and requyred his moneye. The lorde, makynge as though
he had hadde more nede than before, desyred the marchaunt to lende hym
other fyftye crownes, and promysed to paye all within a monethe. And all
though the good man denyed hit longe, yet for feare lest he shulde lose
the first somme, with moche grutchynge he lente hym the other fyfty
crownes. And so wente home to his house ryghte heuye and sorowfull in
his mynde. Thus thynkynge and dredynge diuers thynges, he passed many
nyghtes awaye without slepe. And as he laye wakyng, he harde his wyfe
nowe and than rappe out *****. At the monethes' ende the lorde sente for
the marchant, and asked him, if he neuer sythe harde his wyfe let a
*****. The marchant aknoweleginge his folye, answered thus: Forsothe,
syr, if I shulde for euery ***** paye a souper, all my goodes and landes
wolde nat suffice therto. After whiche answere, the lorde payde the
marchant his money, and the marchant payde the souper.

Here by ye maye se, that many thinges passe by them that slepe, and it
is an old sayenge: He that slepeth, byteth no body. By this tale ye may
note also that they, the whiche fortune swetelye enbraceth, take theyr
reste and slepe soundely; And contrarye wyse, they that bene oppressed
with aduersite, watche sorowefullye whan they shulde slepe. This man,
which for a very folisshe thing preysed his wyfe, afterwarde whan a
lyttell care beganne to crepe aboute his stomacke, he perceiued that
faute in her ryght great. The morall boke, called Cato,[195] counsayleth
vs to watche for the more parte: For moche slomber and slepe is the
norisshinge of vice.

FOOTNOTES:

[195] Vide supra, p. 22.

¶ _Of the friere that gaue scrowes agaynst the pestilence._ xxxvii.

¶ Amonge the limitours[196] in the cyte of Tiburtine (Tivoli), was a
certayne friere, which vsed to preache about in the villages to men of
the countrey: and for as moch as they greately suspecte[d] that a plague
of pestilence shulde come amonge them, he promysed eche of them a lytell
scrowe:[197] which he sayde was of suche a vertue, that who so euer bare
hit hangynge aboute his necke xv dayes shulde nat dye of the pestilence.
The folisshe people trustynge herevpon, euerye one after his power gaue
him money for a scrowe; and with a threde of a mayden's spynninge, they
hanged hit aboute their neckes. But he charged them that they shuld nat
open it tyll the xv dayes ende: for, if they did, he sayde hit had no
vertue. So whan the frire hadde gathered moche moneye, he wente his
waye. Soone after (as the desyre of folkes is to knowe newes) the sayd
scrowes were redde, in which was writen in Italian speche:

  _Donna, si fili et cadeti lo fuso,
  Quando ti pieghi, tieni lo culo chiuso._[198]

Which is to saye in englysshe: woman, if thou spynne, and thy spyndell
falle awaye, whan thou stoupest to reache for him, holde thyne ****
close. He sayde, that this passed all the preceptes and medicines of the
phisitians.

By whiche tale one may lerne, that all is nat gospell that suche
wanderers about saye, nor euerye word to be beleued: For often tymes:--

  _Gelidus jacet anguis in herbâ._

FOOTNOTES:

[196] A word used by Chaucer. It signifies a person licensed to preach
and beg within a certain _limit_. There was an order of mendicant
friars.

"Lordings, ther is in Engelond, I gesse, A mersschly land called
Holdernesse, In which there went a lymytour aboute, To preche and eek to
begge, it is no doubte."

CHAUCER'S _Sompnour's Tale_; Works, ed. Bell. ii. 103.

[197] Scrowl.

¶ _Of the phisitian, that vsed to write bylles ouer eue._ xxxviii.

¶ A certayne phisitian of Italy vsed ouer night to write for sondry
diseasis diuers billes, called resceitz, and to put them in a bag al to
gether. In the morning whan the vrins (as the custome is) were brought
to him, and he [was] desired to showe some remedy, he wolde put his hand
in to the bag, and at al auentures take oute a bille. And in takinge
oute the bille he wolde say to him that came to seke remedye in their
language: _Prega dio te la mandi bona_. That is to saye: Praye God to
sende the a good one.

By this tale ye may se, that miserable is their state whiche fortune
muste helpe and nat reason. Suche a phisitian on a tyme sayde to
Pausanias: Thou aylest nothinge. No, sayde he, I haue nat had to do with
thy phisicke. And an other tyme a frende of his sayde: Syr, ye ought not
to blame that phisitian: for his phisicke dyd you neuer hurte. Thou
sayest trouthe, quod he: for, if I hadde proued his phisicke, I shulde
nat nowe haue been alyue. And ageyne to an other that sayde: Syr, ye be
an olde man, he answered: yea, thou were nat my phisitian. Such maner
[of] checkes are to lyttell for the leude foles, that wyll practise
phisicke, before they knowe what [be]longeth to theyr name.

FOOTNOTES:

[198] In orig. and in Singer this is printed as prose, according to the
usual practice. The same is the case with the line below.

¶ _Of hym that wolde confesse hym by writinge._ xxxix.

¶ Ther was a yonge man on a tyme, which wrote a longe lybell[199] of his
synnes; whether he did hit for hypocrisy, folysshenesse, or oblyuion I
can not say: and whan he shulde confesse him, he gaue hit to the
confessour to rede: whiche confessor, beinge well lerned and experte in
that busynes, parceyued hit wolde requyre a longe tyme to rede ouer:
wherfore after a fewe wordes he sayde: I assoyle the frome all the
synnes conteyned in this lybell. Yea, but what shall my penaunce be,
quod the yonge man? Nothinge els, sayde the confessour, but that thou
shalte the space of a moneth rede this lybell ouer euery daye vii tymes.
And all thoughe he sayde it was impossyble for him to do, yet the
confessour wolde nat chaunge his sentence. By which mery subtyle answere
he confuted the breble brable[200] of the folysshe felowe.

By this tale ye may perceyue that he that occupyeth this office, that is
to saye, a confessour, ought to be discrete, prudent, and well lernedde.
This confessour knewe well the ordinaunce of holye churche: whiche
wylleth confession to be made with the mouthe, and nat by wrytynge.

FOOTNOTES:

[199] Narrative or account. In its original signification, libel merely
implied _libellus_, a little book or volume, a pamphlet, but not
necessarily one of an offensive kind.

¶ _Of the hermite of Padowe._ xl.

¶ An hermite of Padow,[201] that was reputed for an holy man, vnder the
semblaunce of confession, entyced many of the notablest wyues of the
towne vnto folye and lewednes. So at last, whan his offence was
dyuulgate and knowen (for hypocrisy can nat longe be hid) he was taken
by the prouost, and brought before the prince of Padowe, duke Francis
the vii of that name, whiche for his disporte sent for his secretarye,
to wryte the womens names, that the hermit had layen by. Whan the
hermyte had rehersed manye of the dukes seruantes wyues, and the
secretarye merely laughenge had writen them, he semed as he had al said.
Be there any mo, sayde the duke? No forsothe, said the hermite. Tel vs
trouth, quod the secretarie, who be mo, or els thou shalte be sharply
punisshed. Than the hermyte sighinge said: Go to, write in thin owne
wife amonge the nomber of the other; which saienge so sore greued the
secretarye, that the penne felle out of his hande and the duke laughed
right hartily, and sayde it was well done: that he that with so great
pleasure harde the fautes of other mennes wyues, shulde come in the same
nombre.

By this ieste we may lerne, that one ought nat to reioyce at an others
grefe or hurte: For lytell woteth a man what hangeth ouer his owne
heed.

FOOTNOTES:

[200] Silly and licentious talk. Taylor the Water-Poet, at the end of
his _Wit and Mirth_, 1622 (_Works_, 1630, folio I. p. 200), uses the
expression _Ribble-rabble of Gossips_, which seems to be a phrase of
very similar import.

[201] Padua.

¶ _Of the Uplandysshe man, that sawe the kynge._ xli.

¶ An vplandysshe man, nourysshed in the woddes, came on a tyme to the
citie, whanne all the stretes were full of people, and the common voyce
amonge them was: The kynge cometh. This rurall manne, moued with
noueltie of that voyce, had great desyre to se, what that multitude
houed[202] to beholde. Sodaynly the kynge, with many nobuls and states
before hym, came rydynge royally. Than the people all about stedfastly
behelde the kynge and cryed aloude: God saue the kynge: God saue the
kynge. This villayne[203] herynge them crye so, sayde: O where is the
kynge, where is the kynge? Than one, shewynge hym the kynge, sayde:
yonder is he, that rydeth upon the goodly whyte horse. Is that the kyng,
quod the villayne? what, thou mockest me, quod he; me thinke that is a
man in a peynted garment.

By this tale ye may perceyue (as Lycurgus proued by experience) that
nourysshynge, good bryngynge vp and exercyse ben more apte to leade
folke to humanite and the doynge of honest thynges than Nature her
selfe. They for the mooste part are noble, free, and vertuous, whiche in
their youthe bene well nourysshed vp, and vertuously endoctryned.

FOOTNOTES:

[202] Hovered. This form of the word is used by Gower and Spenser. See
Nares (ed. 1859), voce _Hove_.

[203] Rustic.

¶ _Of the courtier that bad the boy holde his horse._ xlii.

¶ A courtier on a tyme that alyghted of his horse at an Inde[204] gate
sayde to a boye that stode therby: Ho, syr boye, holde my horse. The
boye, as he had ben aferde, answered: O maister, this a fierce horse; is
one able to holde him? Yes, quod the courtier, one may holde hym well
inough. Well, quod the boye, if one be able inough, than I pray you
holde hym your owne selfe.[205]

¶ _Of the deceytfull scriuener._ xliii.

¶ A certayne scriuener, whiche hadde but a bare lyuynge by his crafte,
imagyned howe he myght gette money. So he came to a yonge man, and asked
hym if he were payde x li. whiche a certayne man, that was deade,
borowed and ought to paye his father in tyme paste. The yonge manne
sayde there was no such duetye[206] owynge in his father's name, that
he knewe of. It is of trouthe, quod the scriuener: for here is the
oblygacyon therof, whiche I made my selfe. He prouoked the yonge manne
so moche, that he gaue hym money for the oblygation, and before the
mayre he required the duetie. His sonne, that was named to be dettour,
sayde playnely, that his father neuer borowed money: for if he had, it
wolde appere by his bokes, after the marchantes' maner. And forth with
he went to the scriuener and sayde to him, that he was a false man to
write a thing that neuer was done. Sonne, sayde the scriuener, thou
wotteste nat what was done that tyme: whan thy father borowed that somme
of money, thou were nat borne: but he payde it agayne within thre
monthes after, I made the quittance therof my selfe: wherby thy father
is discharged. So the yonge man was faine to gyue hym money for the
quittaunce. And whan he had shewed the quittaunce he was discharged of
that greuance. Thus by his faire fraude he scraped money from them
bothe.

By this tale ye may se, that the children in this our tyme be very
prudent to get money.

FOOTNOTES:

[204] Inn.

[205] See _Introduction_ vi.

[206] Debt.

¶ _Of hym that saide he beleued his wyfe better than other, that she was
chaste._ xliiii.

¶ A Certayne man, whose wyfe (as the voyce wente) was nat very chaste of
her bodye, was warned of his frendes to loke better to the matter. The
man wente home and sharpely rebuked his wyfe, and told her betwene them
bothe, what his frendes had sayde. She, knowynge that periurye was no
greatter offence than aduoutry,[207] with wepynge and swerynge defended
her honestie: and bare her husbande on hande, that they feyned those
tales for enuye that they hadde to se them lyue so quietly. With those
wordes her husbande was content and pleased. So yet an other tyme
agayne, his frendes warned him of his wyfe, and badde hym rebuke and
chastice her. To whome he sayd: I pray you trouble me no more with suche
wordes. Telle me, whether knoweth better my wiue's fautes, you or she?
They sayde: She. And she (quod he), whom I beleue better than you all,
sayth playnly, that ye lye. This was well and wysely done: For one
ought nat to gyue light credence to those thinges, wherin resteth
perpetuall grefe of mynde.

FOOTNOTES:

[207] Adultery. The word occurs in Bacon's Essays. In his _Essay of
Empire_, the writer says:--"This kind of danger is then to be feared
chiefly when the wives have plots for the raising of their own children,
or else that they be _advoutresses_." Sir Simonds D'Ewes, in his account
of the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, in 1613, describes the Countess of
Essex as "Somerset's _advoutress_" (_Autobiography and Correspondence of
Sir Simonds D'Ewes_, ed. Halliwell, I. 74).

¶ _Of hym that payde his dette with crienge bea._ xlv.

¶ There was a man on a tyme, which toke as moche ware of a marchaunt, as
drewe to fyftie li. and riottously playde and spente the same awaye
within shorte space. So whanne the day of payemente came, he hadde
nother[208] moneye nor ware to paye: wherfore he was arrested, and muste
come before the Justyce; whan he sawe there was none other remedye, but
that he shulde be constrayned eyther to pay the dette, or else to go to
prison. Wherfore he went to a subtyle man of lawe, and shewed to hym his
matter, and desyred of hym[209] his counsayle and helpe. What wylt thou
gyue me (quod the man of lawe), if I rydde the of this dette? By my
faythe, sayde the dettour, v marke: and lo, here it is redy; as sone as
I am quitte, ye shall haue hit. Good inough, quod the man of lawe; but
thou muste be ruled by my counsaile, and thus do. Whan thou comest
before the Justice, what som euer be saye[210] vnto the, loke that thou
answere to nothing, but cry bea styl: and lette me alone with the reste.
Content, quod he.

So, whan they were com before the Justice, he said to the dettour: doste
thou owe this marchant this somme of money or no? Bea! quod he. What
beste! (quod the Justice) answere to thy plaint, orels thou wilte be
condemned. Bea! quod he agayne. Than his man of lawe stode forth, and
sayd: Sir, this man is but an ideot. Who wolde beleue that this
marchaunt, whiche is both wyse and subtyle, wolde truste this ideot,
that can speke neuer a redy worde, of xl peny worth of ware? and so with
suche reasons he perswaded the Justyce to caste the marchaunt in his
owne action. So whan the sentence was gyuen, the man of lawe drewe the
dettour asyde, and said: Lo, howe sayst thou nowe? Haue not I done well
for the? Thou arte clere quitte of the dette that was demanded of the:
wherfore giue me my money, and God be with the. Bea! quod he. What, quod
the laweer, thou nedest not to crie bea no longer; thy matter is
dispatched; all is at a poynt, there resteth nothynge but to gyue me my
wages, that thou promysyddest. Bea! quod he agayne. I saye, quod the man
of lawe, crie bea no longer nowe, but gyue me my money. Bea! quod he.
Thus the man of lawe, neyther for fayre nor foule, coulde gette any
other thinge of his client but Bea: wherfore all angerly he departed,
and went his waye.

By this tale ye may perceyue, that they whiche be the inuenters and
diuisers of fraude and disceit, ben often times therby deceyued them
selfe. And he, that hath hyd a snare to attrap an other with, hath hym
selfe ben taken therin.

FOOTNOTES:

[208] An old form of _neither_.

[209] In orig. _desired him of_.

[210] Orig. reads _sayd_.

¶ _Of the woman that appeled fro kyng Philip to kynge Philippe._ xlvi.

¶ A woman, whiche [was] gyltlesse, on a tyme was condempned by kynge
Philippe of Macedone, whan he was not sobre: wherfore she sayde: I
appele. Whether,[211] quod the kynge? To kynge Philippe, quod she; but
that is whan he is more sobre and better aduysed; whiche sayenge caused
the kynge to loke better on the matter, and to do her ryght.

This wryteth Val. Maximus. But Plutarche sayth, it was a man, and kynge
Philip was halfe a slepe, whan he gaue sentence.

FOOTNOTES:

[211] Whither.

¶ _Of the olde woman, that prayde for the welfare of the tyrant Denise._
xlvii.

¶ What tyme Denyse[212] the tyranne raygned, for his cruelte and
intollerable dealynge he was hated of all the[213] cite of Syracuse, and
euery body wysshed his dethe, saue one olde woman, the whiche euery
morning praid God to saue him in good life and helth. Whan he vnderstode
that she so dyd, he meruailed greatly at her vndeserued beniuolence:
wherfore he sente for her, and asked, why and howe he had deserued, that
she prayde for hym? She answered and sayd: I do it nat with out a cause.
For, whan I was a mayde, we had a tyran raignynge ouer us, whose death I
greatly desyred; whan he was slayne, there succided an other yet more
cruell than he, out of whose gouernance to be also deliuered I thought
it a hygh benifyte. The thyrde is thy selfe, that haste begon to raygne
ouer vs more importunately[214] than either of the other two. Thus,
fearynge leest, whan thou arte gone, a worse shuld succede and reigne
ouer vs, I praye God dayly to preserue the in helthe.

FOOTNOTES:

[212] Dionysius.

[213] Orig. reads _che_.

[214] _Importunate_ seems to be used here in the sense of _oppressive_
or _overbearing_.

¶ _Of the phisitian Eumonus._ xlviii.

¶ A phisitian called Eumonus tolde a sicke man, that laye in great
payne, that he coulde nat scape, but he muste nedes dye of that disese.
This sicke man within a whyle after, nat by the phisitians helpe, but by
the wille of God, guerysshed[215] and was holle of his disease: howe be
hit, he was verye lowe and bare[216] broughte. And as he walked forth on
a daye, he met the same phisytian, whiche, doubtynge whether hit were
the same sycke man or nat, sayd: Arte nat thou Gaius? yes, truelye, quod
he. Arte thou alyue or deed, sayde the phisitian? I am deed, quod he.
What doste thou here than, said the phisitian? Bycause, quod he, that I
haue experience of many thinges, God hath commanded me that I shulde
come and take vp all the phisitians that I can get, to him. Whiche
sayenge made Eumonus as pale as asshes for fere. Than Gaius sayd to him:
drede thou nat, Eumonus, thoughe I sayd all phisitians: for there is no
man that hath wytte, that wylle take the for one.

FOOTNOTES:

[215] Fr. "guerir," to heal.

[216] Poor, or, perhaps, poorly.

¶ _Of Socrates and his scoldinge wyfe._ xlix.

¶ Laertius wryteth, that the wyse man Socrates had a coursed scoldinge
wyfe, called Xantippe, the whiche on a daye after she hadde alto[217]
chydde him powred a * * * * * potte on his heed. He, takynge all
paciently, sayde: dyd nat I tell you that, whan I herde Xantippe thonder
so fast, that it wolde rayne anone after?

Wherby ye maye se, that the wyser a man is, the more pacience he taketh.
The wyse poet Virgil sayth: all fortune by suffrance must be ouercome.

¶ _Of the phisitian that bare his paciente on honde, he had eaten an
asse._ l.

¶ A Phisitian, which had but smalle lerning, vsed whan he came to viset
his pacientes to touche the pulce; and if any appayred, he wolde lay the
blame on the paciente, and beare him on hande,[218] that he did eate
fygges, apples, or some other thinge that he forbade: and bicause the
pacientes other whyle confessed the same, they thought he had ben a
very connynge man. His seruante hadde great maruayle, howe he parceyued
that, and desyred his mayster to telle hym, whether he knewe hit by
touching of the pulce, orels by some other hygher knowlege. Than sayde
his mayster: for the good seruice that thou haste done me, I wyll open
to the this secrete point. Whan I come in to the pacientes chamber, I
loke al a bout: and, if I spye in the flore shales,[219] parynge of
chese, of aples, or of peares, or any other scrappes, anone I
coniecte,[220] that the paciente hath eaten thereof. And so to th' ende
I wold be blameles, I lay the faute on theyr mysdiettynge.

Nat longe after, the same seruaunte toke on hym to practise physike,
whyche in lyke maner blamed his pacientes, and sayde, that they kepte
nat the diete that he gaue them; and he bare them on hande that they
yete some what, wherof he sawe the scrappes in the flore. On a tyme he
cam to a poure man of the countre, and promysed to make him hole, if he
wolde be gouerned after him, and sa gaue him to drinke I wote nat what,
and went his waye tyll on[221] the morowe. Whan he came agayne, he
founde the man sicker than euer he was. The rude fole, nat knowinge the
cause, behelde here and there aboute, and whan he coude se no skrappes
nor parynges, he was sore troubled in his mynde. So at the last he
espied a saddel vnder the bed. Than said he all a loude, that he hadde
at length parceyued, howe the sicke man enpayred: he hath so excessiuely
passed diete (quod he), that I wonder he is nat deed. How so, quod they?
Marye, quod he, ye haue made him to eate an holle asse! Lo, where the
saddell lyethe yet vnder the bedde. For he thoughte the saddell had be
lefte of the asse, as bones are of fleshe. For which folysshnes he was
well laughed to skorne and mocked.

Thus as a good faythfull phisitian is worthy of greate honour: for
truely of hym dependethe the greattest parte of mans helthe, so lyke
wyse a folysshe and an vnlerned, that thynkethe to cure with wordes,
that he ought to do with herbes, is nat onely worthy to be deryded and
mocked, but also punysshed: for nothynge is more perillous.

FOOTNOTES:

[217] Orig. reads _all to_. We take the true meaning to be _alto_, as
above, _i.e._ in a loud key.

[218] Delude him with the false notion. _To bear on hande_, I presume to
be synonymous with _To bear in hande_ of the use of which among old
authors several examples are furnished by Nares (edit. 1859).

[219] Shells.

[220] Conjecture.

[221] Orig. and Singer read _an_.

¶ _Of the inholders[222] wyfe and her ii louers._ li.

¶ Nere vnto Florence dwelled an inholder, whos wyfe was nat very
dangerous[223] of her tayle. Vpon a nyghte as she was a bed with one of
her louers, there came a nother to haue lyen with her. Whan she herde
him come vp the ladder, she met him, and bade hym go thence, for she
hadde no tyme than to fulfylle his pleasure. But for all her wordes he
wolde nat go a waye, but stylle preaced[224] to come in. So longe they
stode chydinge, that the good man came vpon them, and asked them why
they brauled so. The woman, nat unprouyded of a disceytefull answere,
sayde: Syr, this man wolde come in per force to slee or myschiefe an
other, that is fled in to our house for succoure, and hitherto I haue
kepte him backe. Whan he, that was within, herde her saye so, he beganne
to plucke vp his harte and say, he wold be a wreked[225] on him
withoute. And he that was withoute made a face, as he wolde kylle him
that was within. The folysshe man, her husbande, enquered the cause of
theyr debate, and toke vpon him to sette them at one.[226] And so the
good sely man spake and made the pese betwene them both; yea, and
farther he gaue them a gallon of wyne, addynge to his wiues aduoutry the
losse of his wine.

FOOTNOTES:

[222] Innkeeper.

[223] Jealous, careful.

¶ _Of hym that healed franticke men._ lii.

¶ There dwelled a man in Italy, whiche vsed to heale men, that were
franticke, on this maner. He had within his house a gutter, or a
ditche, full of water, wherin he wold put them, some to the middell
legge, some to the knee, and some dypper, as they were madde.[227] So
one that was well amended, and wente aboute the house to do one thinge
and other for his meate, as he stode on a tyme at the gate, lokinge in
to the strete, he sawe a gentyll man ryde by with a great sorte[228] of
haukes and houndes; the which he called to him and said: you gentyll
man, whither go ye? On huntynge, quod the gentyll man. What do you with
all those kytes and dogges, quod he? They be haukes and houndes, quod
the gentyll man. Wherfore kepe you them, quod the other? For my
pleasure, quod the gentyl man. What costeth it you a yere to kepe them,
quod the other? XL duckettes, quod the gentyll man. And what do they
profytte you, quod he? Foure duckettes, quod the gentyll man. Gette the
lyghtlye hense, quod the madde man: for, if my mayster come and fynde
the here, he wyll put the in to the gutter vp to the throte.

This tale toucheth suche young gentyll menne, that dispende ouer moche
good[229] on haukes, houndes, and other trifils.

FOOTNOTES:

[224] Pressed.

[225] Wreaked, revenged.

[226] Reconcile them.

[227] _i. e._ according to their degree of madness. See _Introduction_,
viii. ix.

[228] Assortment.

[229] Goods

¶ _Of hym that sayde he was not worthy to open the gate to the kynge._
liii.

¶ As a kynge of Englande hunted on a tyme in the countie of Kent, he
hapte to come rydynge to a great gate, wherby stode a husbande man of
the countrey, to whom the kynge sayde: good felowe, putte open the gate.
The man perceyuynge it was the kynge, sayde: no, and please your grace,
I am nat worthy; but I wyll go fetche Mayster Couper, that dwelleth nat
past ij myles hense, and he shal open to you the gate.

¶ _Of mayster Uauasour and Turpin his man._ liiii.

¶ Mayster Vauasour,[230] sometyme a iudge of Englande, hadde a seruaunt
with hym called Turpin, whiche had done hym seruyce many yeres; wherfore
he came vnto his mayster on a tyme, and sayde to hym on this wyse: syr,
I haue done you seruice longe; wherfore I pray you gyue me somwhat to
helpe me in myn old age. Turpin, quod he, thou sayst trouthe, and
hereon I haue thought many a tyme; I wyll tell the, what thou shalt do.
Nowe shortly I must ride vp to London; and, if thou wilt beare my costis
thether, I wyll surely gyue the suche a thing, that shall be worth to
the an hundred pounde. I am contente, quod Turpin. So all the waye as he
rode Turpin payd his costis, tyll they came to theyr last lodginge: and
there after souper he cam to his mayster and sayde: sir, I haue born
your costes hitherto, as ye badde me; nowe, I pray you let me se, what
thynge hit is, that shulde be worthe an hundred pounde to me. Dyd I
promise the suche a thynge, quod his mayster? ye, forsoth, quod Turpin.
Shewe me thy wrytinge, quod maister Vauasour. I haue none, sayde Turpin.
Than thou arte lyke to haue nothinge, sayde his maister. And lerne this
at me.[231] Whan sa euer thou makest a bargayne with a man, loke that
thou take sure wrytynge, and be well ware howe thou makest a writynge to
any man. This poynte hath vayled[232] me an hundred pounde in my dayes:
and so hit may the. Whan Turpin sawe there was none other remedy, he
helde him selfe contente. On the morowe Turpin taryed a lytelle behynde
his mayster to reken with the hostes, where they laye, and of her he
borowed so moche money on his maysters skarlet cloke, as drewe to[233]
all the costes that they spente by the waye. Mayster Vauasour had nat
ryden past ii myle but that it began to rayne; wherfore he calledde for
his cloke.--His other seruauntes saide, Turpin was behinde, and had hit
with him. So they houedde[234] vnder a tre, tylle Turpin ouer toke them.
Whan he was come, Mayster Vauasour all angerly sayde: thou knaue, why
comest thou nat aweye with my cloke? Syr, and please you, quod Turpin, I
haue layde hit to gage[235] for your costes al the waye. Why, knaue,
quod his mayster, diddiste thou nat promyse to beare my charges to
London? Dyd I, quod Turpin? ye, quod his mayster, that thou diddest. Let
se, shew me your wriytinge therof, quod Turpin; wherto his mayster, I
thinke, answered but lytell.

FOOTNOTES:

[230] This old Yorkshire family produced several persons eminent in the
legal profession from the time of Henry I. downward; but the one here
intended was, in all probability, John Vavasour, who became Recorder of
York, I Henry VII., and was made a justice of the Common Pleas in
August, 1490. See Foss's _Judges of England_, v. 78, 79.

[231] Of me.

[232] _i. e._ availed, has been worth £100 to me.

¶ _Of hym that sought his wyfe agaynst the streme._ lv.

¶ A man the[re] was whose wyfe, as she came ouer a bridg, fell in to the
ryuer and was drowned; wherfore he wente and sought for her vpward
against the stream, wherat his neighboures, that wente with hym,
maruayled, and sayde he dyd nought, he shulde go seke her downeward with
the streme. Naye, quod he, I am sure I shall neuer fynde her that waye:
for she was so waywarde and so contrary to euery thynge, while she
lyuedde, that I knowe very well nowe she is deed, she wyll go a gaynste
the stream.

FOOTNOTES:

[233] _i. e. came_ to, or amounted to, covered.

[234] Hovered, _i. e._ halted for shelter.

[235] Laid it in pledge.

¶ _Of hym that at a skyrmyshe defended him with his feet._ lvi.

¶ A lustye yonge gentyll man of France, that on a tyme was at a
skyrmysshe, and defended him selfe valyantly with his feet, came in to
the courte, in to a chambre amonge ladies, with a goodly ringe vpon his
fynger, to whom a fayre lady sayde: syr, why weare ye that rynge vpon
your fynger? Wherfore aske you, madame, quod he? Bycause (sayde she)
your feet dyd you better seruice than your handes at the last skyrmysshe
that ye were at.

By this tale yonge men may lerne to beare them well and valyantly for
drede of reproche. Better is it with worshyp to dye than with shame to
lyue, albe hit that Demosthenes sayde: he that fleethe cometh agayne to
batayle.

¶ _Of hym that wolde gyue a songe for his dyner._ lvii.

¶ There came a felowe on a tyme in to a tauerne, and called for meate.
So, whan he had well dyned, the tauerner came to reken and to haue his
money, to whom the felowe sayde, he had no money, but I wyll, quod he,
contente you with songes. Naye, quod the tauerner, I nede no songes, I
must haue money. Whye, quod the felowe, if I synge a songe to your
pleasure, will ye nat than be contente? yes, quod the tauerner. So he
began, and songe thre or foure balades, and asked if he were pleased?
No, sayde the tauerner. Than he opened his pourse, and beganne to synge
thus:

  Whan you haue dyned make no delaye
  But paye your oste, and go your waye.

Dothe this songe please you, quod he? Yes, marye, said the tauerner,
this pleaseth me well. Than, as couenant was (quod the felowe), ye be
paide for your vitaile. And so he departed, and wente his waye.

This tale sheweth, that a man may be to hastye in makynge of a bargayne
and couenantynge; and therfore a man ought to take good hede, what he
sayth: for one worde may bynde a man to great inconuenience, if the
matter be weighty.

¶ _Of the foole that thought hym selfe deed._ lviii.

¶ There was a felowe dwellynge at Florence, called Nigniaca, whiche was
nat verye wyse, nor all a foole, but merye and iocunde. A sorte[236] of
yonge men, for to laughe and pastyme, appoynted to gether to make hym
beleue that he was sycke. So, whan they were agreed howe they wolde do,
one of them mette hym in the mornynge, as he came out of his house, and
bad him good morowe, and than asked him, if he were nat yl at ease? No,
quod the foole, I ayle nothynge, I thanke God. By my faith, ye haue a
sickely pale colour, quod the other, and wente his waye.

Anone after, an other of them mette hym, and asked hym if he had nat an
ague: for your face and colour (quod he) sheweth that ye be very sycke.
Than the foole beganne a lyttel to doubt, whether he were sycke or no:
for he halfe beleued that they sayd trouth. Whan he had gone a lytel
farther, the thyrde man mette hym, and sayde: Jesu! manne, what do you
out of your bed? ye loke as ye wolde nat lyue an houre to an ende. Nowe
he doubted greatly, and thought verily in his mynde, that he had hadde
some sharpe ague; wherfore he stode styll and wolde go no further; and,
as he stode, the fourth man came and sayde: Jesu! man, what dost thou
here, and arte so sycke? Gette the home to thy bedde: for I parceyue
thou canste nat lyue an houre to an ende. Than the foles harte beganne
to feynte,[237] and [he] prayde this laste man that came to hym to helpe
hym home. Yes, quod he, I wyll do as moche for the as for myn owne
brother. So home he brought hym, and layde hym in his bed, and than he
fared with hym selfe, as thoughe he wolde gyue vp the gooste. Forth with
came the other felowes, and saide he hadde well done to lay hym in his