Early prose romances

v

fit

THE

CARISBROOKE LIBRARY

IV.

THE FIFTH VOLUME
OF THIS LIBRARY,

THE ENGLISH PROSE WORKS

OF

JOHN MILTON,

• Will be Published on the 25 th of September i88g.

THE

CARISBROOKE LIBRARY.

r~PHE UNIVERSAL LIBRARY, now completed in sixty-three
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In the "Carisbrooke Library" there will be no small type.

.iv THE CARISBROOKE LIBRARY.

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HENRY MORLEY.

THE CARISBROOKE LIBRARY.

I. WRITINGS OF JONATHAN SWIFT.

II. GOWER'S "CONFESSIO AMANTIS" [TALES OF THE SEVEN
DEADLY SINS].

III. EARLIER LIFE AND WORKS OF DANIEL DEFOE.

IV. EARLY PROSE ROMANCES.

V. (In September} THE ENGLISH PROSE WORKS OF JOHN MILTON.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES.

BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
EDINBURGH AND LONDON

EARLY

PROSE ROMANCES

REYNARD THE FOX FRIAR BACON

ROBERT THE DEVIL GUY OF WARWICK VIRGILIUS

HISTORY OF HAMLET FRIAR RUSH

EDITED BY

HENRY MORLEY, LL.D.

LONDON

GEORGE ROUT LEDGE AND SONS
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL

GLASGOW, MANCHESTER, AND NEW YORK
1889

MAY 1 4 -1956

CONTENTS.

PAGES

INTRODUCTION n

ELEVEN OF THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES . . . 31

THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE Fox 41

ROBERT THE DEUYLL ........ 167

VIRGILIUS 207

THE HISTORY OF HAMLET 237

THE FAMOUS HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON. ... 285

THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK . . . 329

THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH 409

MORE OF THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES .... 441

INTRODUCTION.

/~PHIS volume contains seven old stories. The first of them
is the old Beast Epic of " Reynard the Fox," in Caxton's
translation from the Flemish. Jacob Grimm believed that
these fables of beasts applied, with a strong national feeling,
to corruption growing among strong men who wronged the
poor and used religion only as a cloak for violence and fraud,
were from their origin Teutonic. Like fables elsewhere could
in great measure be accounted for by the like suggestion of
natural resemblance between beasts and men. But it has been
observed that the earliest known use of such fabling by a German
writer is in Fredegar's Chronicle, quoted under the year 612 as a
" rustica fabula " of the Lion, the Fox, and the Stag, which dis-
tinctly follows -^Esop, and undergoes change afterwards from the
fancy of narrators. The story also of the remedy suggested by
the Fox to the sick Lion (see in this volume a chapter of Caxton's
"Reynart ") comes from ./Esop. It was developed in the eighth
century in a Latin poem ascribed to the Lombard Paulus Dia-
conus, who may have had it at the court of Charlemagne as
matter already familiar among the Franks. Either from Byzan-
tium or through contact with Rome, such fables could readily have
passed into the hearing or the reading of Teutonic monks, who
cared about God and the people, steeped the fables in minds
active for reform, and developed them, as the Teutonic races de-
veloped also the Arthurian myths, into forms inseparable from
their nationality.

12 INTRODUCTION.

The sick Lion reappears in the tenth century in the oldest
poem elaborated as a Beast Epic, the " Ecbasis cujusdam Captivi"
Its author belonged to the monastery of St. Evre, at Toul. Strict
reforms among the brethren, in the year 936, caused his Ecbasis —
his going out. He was brought back, and as a sign of his re-
generation wrote the poem, in which he figured himself "per
tropologiam " as a calf, who, having gone out from safety, became
captive to the wolf. The "Ecbasis" has already incidents that
become further developed in the myth of " Reynart."

The next stage of growth is marked by the Latin poem "Ysen-
grimus" which was first named "Reinardus Vulpes" It was written
about the year 1148 by a Flemish priest, Nivardus of Ghent.
Here we have the names that afterwards entered so completely
into the speech of Europe that the old French word for a fox,
Goupil^ was replaced by Renard, Reinaert. Reynard or Regin-
hard means absolutely hard, a hardened evil-doer whom there is
no turning from his way. It is altogether out of this old story
that the Fox has come by that name. Isegrim, the Wolfs name,
is also Flemish — Isengrin meaning the iron helm. The bear they
named Bruno, Bruin, for the colour of his coat.

The earliest French version of this national satire is lost. There
are traces of it to be found in the later "Roman de Renard" which
confirm the belief that it was known to and used by the Alsatian
Heinrich der Glichezare (the name means simulator), who about
the year 1180 wrote the first " Reinart" in German. He first
called it "Isengrinfs Not:"—

Nu vernemet seltsarniu dine

und vremdiu maere

der der Glichesaere

inkunde git, si sint gewaerlich

Er ist geheizen Heinrich,

der hat diu buoch zesamene geleit

von Isengrines arbeit.

The poem was afterwards entitled "Reinhart Fuhs" There remain
two MSS. of it, one at Heidelberg, the other in the Bishop's
Library at Kalocsa, in Hungary. Its vigorous author was one of

INTRODUCTION. I3

the poets who lived of old by voice as well as pen, themselves
reciting what they wrote.

From a French poem on the same subject, written in the
beginning of the thirteenth century by a priest, Pierre de St.
Cloud, came the Flemish poem of " Reinhart," by Willem, at the
beginning of the thirteenth century. This was continued by another
poet of less mark about the year 1380. A prose commentary
on this appeared in 1480, and a Low German translation of it
was printed and published at Liibeck in 1498. In the earliest
form of the story, in the tenth century, the Fox triumphed. Wil-
lem's " Reinaert " ended with the exile of the Fox from court.
It was the continuer of Willem in 1380 who brought the Fox
back, and told of his judicial combat with Isegrim, and showed
hypocrisy again triumphant.

Willem's Low German poem of " Reinaert " was followed by a
prose " Hystorie van Regnaert die Vos," printed at Gouda, in
Holland, by Gerard Leeu, in 1479. Caxton's translation was
made from the Low German, and retains many Teutonic words
in their Dutch form, which was also the form most nearly allied to
English. Caxton's long residence at Bruges made the language
as familiar to him as his own, and sometimes his English includes
a word from the other side of the boundary between English and
Dutch. The first edition of Caxton's translation was finished at
Westminster in June 1481. There was a second edition in 1489,
of which the only known copy is in the Pepys Library at Cam-
bridge.

Caxton's translation is, as the reader will find, free, vigorous,
and lively; but, as printed by himself, it is not only without
breaks of paragraph, but there is a punctuation in which the end of
one sentence is now and then detached from its own connection
and joined to the beginning of another, and in various ways the
pleasant features of the story are seen dimly sometimes as through
a veil I have, therefore, corrected absolute mistakes, and broken
the story into paragraphs that mark the briskness of its dialogue
and of its homely wit. Old words and grammatical forms have
been left, but I have preferred to print familiar words that remain

I4 INTRODUCTION.

to us in modern English in the spelling that now brings their
sense most quickly to the reader's mind. An exact transcript of
Caxton's " History of Reynard the Fox " is easily to be had. It
was published in 1880 by Professor Arber, of Mason's College,
Birmingham, in his " English Scholar's Library," and can be
received from him through the post for eighteenpence.

This old story, said Thomas Carlyle, " comes before us with a
character such as can belong only to very few — that of being a
true world's Book, which, through centuries, was everywhere at
home, the spirit of which diffused itself into all languages and all
minds. The quaint .^Esopic figures have painted themselves in
innumerable heads ; that rough, deep-lying humour has been the
laughter of many generations."

"Reynard the Fox" was German in its origin; " Robert the
Devil," French. In each tale there was the mediaeval popular sense
of cruel oppression by the strong. In " Reinaert," as first written,
fraud and cruelty were banished with the Fox out of the Lion's
court ; but the old continuer of the story brought them back, and
left them, as they were in the world, or as they seemed to be,
triumphant over earthly opposition. In " Robert the Devil " force
of cruelty was exaggerated to the utmost, for the purpose of insist-
ing on the higher spiritual force that was alone able to triumph
over it, and for the purpose of teaching that no sinner, however
great, can be beyond the reach of rescue by a true repentance.

The legend of " Robert the Devil " was developed first in
France out of elements that are to be found in the early tales
of widely separated peoples. From France the developed story
spread into Spain. It scarcely passed into Italy. In Germany
it never was acclimatised, though adopted into modern German
romance literature. In the Netherlands the romance of "Ro-
brecht den Duyvel " was forbidden by the Bishop of Antwerp on
the nth of April 1621.

The oldest known version of the story of " Robert the Devil "
was one in Latin prose by Etienne de Bourbon, a Dominican
Friar who died soon after the middle of the thirteenth century.

INTRODUCTION. 15

It was part of a work that he left unfinished, a collection of
historical anecdotes, legends, and apologues, and is there given as
a story which he had heard from two of his brethren, and from
one who said that he had read it. The story must, therefore,
have been contained, earlier than the year 1250, in some monastic
writing which is now unknown. The tale is given by Etienne
de Bourbon as a religious history to enforce the manifold use of
penitence. " De multiplid ittilitate penitencie. Penitentia vincit et
superat hostes, et a casu et a miseria elevat. "

To the thirteenth century belongs also the first version of the
tale in French, as a romance in octosyllabic rhyming couplets.
Of this there are two MSS. at Paris in the National Library, one
of the thirteenth century, and one of the fourteenth. The earlier
of these was edited in 1837, m an edition limited to 130 copies,
by G. S. Trebutien.

There is also a thirteenth-century prose version of the tale in
French prefixed to the old " Croniques de Normandie." The
writer of this, whom Littre' believes to have lived at the close
of the century, also refers to written authority for what he tells,
" selon ce quit west appareu par ancunes cscriptures" The two
oldest printed copies of the " Croniques de Normandie," with the
prefixed tale of " Robert the Devil," differing much in arrange-
ment, both appeared at Rouen in the same year, 1487.

In 1496 the story first appeared, printed at Lyon, as a distinct
prose tale, " The Terrible and Marvellous Life of Robert the Devil
who was named afterwards the Man of God." It was followed,
as it has since often been followed, by " The Romance of Richard,
son of Robert the Devil, who was Duke of Normandy." This
prose life — differing in some main features from that prefixed to
the "Chronicles of Normandy" — was reprinted at Paris in 1497,
and has from that time to this been frequently reprinted. It is
the accepted French prose version of the tale.

The accepted verse form was that of a "Z>if de Robert le Deable"
which exists in three MSS. at Paris, and was a recasting in the
fourteenth century of preceding versions. The Dit is in strophes

16 INTRODUCTION.

of four alexandrines, rhymed together, and it alters the old close
of the story.

Between the romance and the Dit there was produced also a
dramatic version, " Miracle de Nostre Dame de Robert-le-Diable"
This was first edited and printed at Rouen in 1836, with Intro-
duction by C. Deville, Paulin Paris, and others.

Reference has also been made to an unpublished metrical
version of the legend made in the sixteenth century by Jacques
de la Hogue.

From the French prose book the story was first translated into
English for the edition twice printed, without date, by Wynkyn
de Worde, Caxton's most energetic assistant and successor, who
printed as many as four hundred and ten books, and was the
introducer of Roman type into England. Wynkyn de Worde's
version — that which is here given — of the " Lyfe of Robert the
Devyll" was printed by William J. Thorns in 1827 in "Ancient
English Fictions, a Collection of Early Prose Romances," o(
which there was a second enlarged edition published in 1858,
in three volumes, as " Early English Prose Romances." Except
"Reynard the Fox," the "Historic of Hamlet," and "Guy of
Warwick," the stories in this volume have been chosen from the
collection made by that acute and genial student of the past.

In the earliest known form of the tale of " Robert the Devil "
there is no place named as the scene of it, and we are not told
that the wicked man who was to repent was, as a child, called
Devil by his playfellows. Normandy first appears as his home in
the metrical romance, with Rome for the scene of the penance.
There are variations in the matter of the tale as it is found in
Etienne de Bourbon, in the romance, in the Ditt in the Chro-
nique, and in the first French prose version of the "Life of
Robert the Devil " as a distinct book for the use of the people.

The prose story in the Chronique gives five or six more inci-
dents of Robert's evil-doing, and omits only the blinding of his
father's messengers. It says nothing of his wonderful birth
and the discovery of it from his mother* It ascribes Robert's
conversion to the teaching of a holy man, a hermit who took

INTRODUCTION. 17

charge of him when he was wounded. There is no war with the
Saracens at the end of this version of the tale ; no marriage with
the Emperor's daughter.

The romance, like the separate prose life of 1496, which is
in general accord with the romance and the Ditt brought the
fierce impulse to repentance out of the storm of Robert's own
nature. This puts more force into the hero's character, more life
into the passion of the ftale. The romance and the prose life
of 1496 tell of the war with the Saracens and the love of the
Emperor's daughter ; but in the romance Robert refuses mar-
riage, and passes the rest of his life as a holy anchorite. In the
popular prose life his refusal to marry is overcome by the express
command of God. Robert marries the Emperor's daughter, suc-
ceeds his father in Normandy, and passes the rest of his life as a
just and religious ruler of his people.

It is not to be supposed that there was any historical founda-
tion for the legend. Robert the Devil has been identified with
the Norman Robert I. the Magnificent, who died in 1035 ; also
with Robert II., Courte-Heuse, son of William the Conqueror,
who died in 1134. Le Hericher has found him in the
Norman Rollo. Trebutien says that there is nothing to hinder
us from believing that he was, not Duke but Dux, son of
an Aubert who in the eighth century ruled over the future
Normandy. There is nothing to hinder us from so believing,
because faith is free; and there is nothing that will help to
such belief. It is a Church legend shaped from popular ideas to
enforce the efficacy of repentance. It was told first of a nameless
person in an unnamed place ; it was then furnished with name
and place to give it more solidity, and made emphatic by exaggera-
tions of the pictures that set forth on one side the greatness of the
sin, and on the other side showed the completeness of the penance
and the pardon. The sinner's violence is that of a devil. In his
repentance he abases himself below humanity. This is shown
vividly by his putting away the use of speech and of intellect; he
takes on himself the actions of a fool, and does not sit at the same
table with his fellow-men, but eats and sleeps with the dogs. Full

B

i8 INTRODUCTION.

pardon comes of full repentance, tested by long resistance of
temptation to reveal the secret of his self-abasement.

This volume contains also two tales of conjurors, Virgilius and
Friar Bacon.

The story of Virgilius is chiefly of Italian origin. From early
days among his countrymen, Vergil was half a god. Silius
Italicus, Pliny tells us, kept Vergil's birthday by a religious visit
to his monument in Naples as to a temple. Martial counted the
Ides of October as sacred to Vergil, " Octobres Metro consecravil
Idus ; " and Statius also made a temple of the tomb —

" Maroneique sedens in margine templi
Sumo animum."

A vague sense of divine greatness in Vergil led to the use of his
works as an oracle. By opening his book at random and letting
the eye fall on a passage, there was to be found in that passage
an oracular solution for any difficulty. This use of the sortes
VirgiliancB. was familiar to the Emperor Hadrian, and is not yet
dead. No other books have been so used except Homer and the
Bible ; but there were few readers of Homer in the Middle Ages,
among followers of the Western Church.

Then came centoni of Vergilian verse, in which lines and
phrases were rearranged to make Vergilian poems upon subjects
not treated by Vergil. The most famous of these, made by the
Emperor Valentinian with aid of Ausonius, is a nuptial cento, in
which the pure Vergil was made to speak immodestly.
!" The Christians found in Vergil's fourth eclogue — Pollio — a
prophecy of Christ Pope afterwards, following that idea, mixed
up in his " Messiah " Vergil's Pollio with the prophecies of Isaiah.
This prophecy of the birth of a child with whom there should
come a new and happy age of justice, love, and peace, was
fastened upon by the Christians as early as the fourth century.
To Lactantius the prophecy was of Christ's second coming.

The description of magical charms in the eighth eclogue —
Pharmaceutria — and the visit to the unknown world in the sixth

INTRODUCTION. ig

book of the ^Eneid, contributed, no doubt, to the growth of the
idea that Vergil was a great magician ; but there is no definite
speaking of him in that character before the twelfth century. At
the close of the thirteenth century, when the genius of Dante first
breathed the spirit of the artist into modern literature, Qante's
great master was Vergil, greatest of the poets known to him, and
gifted beyond all men with the poet's insight, which is clearest use
of human wisdom.

In the popular literature of the thirteenth century there was in
French verse by a monk of Hauteseille, in Lorraine, a variation
on " The Seven Sages " called " Dolopathos." Dolopathos was an
imagined king of Sicily who lived in the time of Augustus, and
sent his son Lucinianus to be taught at Rome by Vergil. Before
the son returned to Sicily his mother had died and his father
married again. Vergil saw in the stars great danger threatening
him, and Lucinianus was bidden to keep strict silence until Vergil
himself told him to speak. The stepmother caused the son to be
condemned to death by his father. The day of execution was
delayed by story-telling until the seventh day, when Vergil came
and bade his pupil speak. In consequence of what he told, the
stepmother was burnt alive.

Among the people of Naples, apt at story-telling, in the twelfth
century, tales of Vergil the magician began to multiply. Naples
had been a favourite place of residence with the poet, and after
his death at Brundusium, B.C. 19, his remains were taken to
Naples and entombed by the Via Puteolana, on the road from
Naples to Puteoli. Conrad of Querfurt, in a letter from Italy,
dated 1194, describing his travels, tells of Naples provided by
Vergil with a palladium in the form of a small model of the city
enclosed in a bottle with a narrow neck ; also of a magical bronze
horse, and a bronze fly that kept flies out of the city, and. other
wonders that we find woven into the tale of Vergil the Enchanter.
Gervase of Tilbury, about eighteen years later, in his " Otia Jm-
perialia" tells more such tales, and there are more references to
Vergil's magic in Alexander Neckham's book "De Natitris Rerum."
The people of Naples adopted Vergil as the protecting genius of

20 INTRODUCTION.

the city, and some of their tales were clearly based on legends
and traditions from the East. Vergil's releasing of the Devil re-
calls the tale of the Fisherman and Genie in the " Arabian Nights."
Apollonius Tyaneus also was said to have made a bronze fly that
kept flies out of Byzantium. Professor Domenico Comparetti, in
his two volumes published at Leghorn in 1872 — " Virgilio nel Media
Evo " — gives many interesting details of the growth of the tradition,
and finds in many of the tales of Vergil a popular association of
ideas with objects familiar to the people of Naples. When the
palladium had been transformed from a model of Naples to an egg,
the old castle built in 1154 changed its name in the fourteenth
century from Castdlo di mare to Caste! deW uovo. In the statutes
of a religious house it is described as Casfellum ovi incantati.
Meanwhile the tales spread over Italy and beyond Italy, from lip
to lip through the story-tellers, and became more and more
familiar in books. But there have been no manuscripts found of
the French story-book, " Les Faits Merueilleux de Virgille" which
come down to us in rare printed copies of the earlier part of the
sixteenth century. It was translated into English, into Dutch,
and into German ; there is also at Copenhagen a MS. translation
of it into Icelandic through the Dutch.

The English translation is that given in this volume, as printed,
with woodcuts, in Gothic letter, at Antwerp, without date, by
John Doesborcke. " This boke treatethe of the lyfe of Virgilius
and of his death, and many maravyles, that he dyd in his lyfe
tyme by witchcraft and nigromansy, thorough the help of the
devylls of hell." From the one known copy Utterson reproduced
in 1812 an edition of sixty copies, from one of which it was
reprinted in 1828 by W. J. Thorns in the collection already
named, of which a translation into German, with additional matter
by R. O. Spazier, was published at Brunswick in 1830.

" The Historic of Hamlet," that next follows, is from a book
printed by Richard Bradocke for Thomas Pavier in 1608, of
which there is only one known copy. Nash's " Epistle," prefixed
to Greene's " Menaphon," published in 1589, refers to a play of

INTRODUCTION. 21

" Hamlet " then existing, which was earlier than Shakespeare's.
This may have been founded upon the tale as told in the " Histoires
Tragiques " of Belleforest, together with tales from the Italian of
Bandello, whose novels Belleforest and his fellow-translator, Boias-
tuau, adopted. If it was taken from the English book, which is
translated from Belleforest, then the first edition of the English
translation was of earlier date than 1589.

The tale of " Hamlet " first appears in the third book of the
Danish history of Saxo Grammaticus. And who was he ? He
was a Danish historian, of noble family, who lived in the latter
half of the twelfth century, and died soon after the year 1203.
He began life as a monastic writer, who for his Latinity was called
" Grammaticus''' Upon the suggestion of his patron, Absalon,
Archbishop of Lund, he wrote a history of Danish kings and
heroes, which, till the tenth century, is legendary. The historian
delighted in the legends of the people, and reported them with
evident fidelity. This gives especial interest to ten books of his
Danish history; in the remaining six he is more simply his-
torian. A translation of Saxo Grammaticus into Danish is a
popular book among the Danes. A translation of it into English
will some day, I hope, become current in England. I know
where there is a translation of it to be had, which should be
made accessible to many readers.

In Saxo's third book we are told how, when Rorik Slyngebond,
towards the close of the seventh century, was king of Denmark,
Gervendill was chief in Jutland. After the death of Gervendill,
his two sons, Horvendill and Fengo, succeeded him. Horvendill
won to himself glory as a vikingr, that stirred envy in Koller, king
of Norway. Koller hunted the seas for Horvendill, and at last
met him, and was killed by him on an island in the spring-time,
and fought with him the kind of island-duel known as " Holmgang"
Horvendill's rich gifts from his booty won the favour of his king,
Rorik ; so he ^married Rorik's daughter, Gerutha, and became by
her thefather of Amleth — Hamlet. All this prosperity of Horvendill
stirred envy in his brother Fengo. Fengo fell on Horvendill with
open force, slew him, succeeded to his rule, and reigned tyrannically.

22 INTRODUCTION.

He also beguiled the mind of his brother's wife, Gerutha, and
married her. Amleth, her son, then simulated madness. It is
to be noted also that Amloda signified a foolish person. He
soiled himself by daily lying in the ashes. He cut little sticks
to points and hardened them in fire, and made men laugh by
saying that he got them ready to avenge his father. Shrewd
minds and guilty minds suspected him. They sought to make
him betray himself to a fair woman in a wood, and to certain
youths, but a foster-brother took care that he should not be be-
guiled. Amleth understood the devices, and when offered a horse,
mounted with his face looking hindward and took the tail for a
bridle. His answers of feigned insanity were always witty. When
he was told that the sand by the seashore was meal, he said,
" Yes, ground by the storms and the white-crested waves." In
the younger Edda there is a fragment of verse which gives
Amlodi's Mill as one of the poetical names for the sea. In other
ways Amleth contrived so to tell truth as to seem a fool. But
Fengo saw the underlying wit, and as he could not make away
with him in Denmark for fear of King Rorik, sent him to Eng-
land with companions who carried lines which Amleth searched
for, found, and altered so that they asked for the killing of their
bearers, and that Amleth should be married to the king of Eng-
land's daughter. So the tale goes on, very much as we have it
in the English prose history. There was no place in Danish
history for a real Hamlet. His adventures were those of a fable
current among the people, which owed its permanence to the fact
that Saxo thought it worth recording. It seems to have been a
tradition of Jutland, for in Saxo's time Amleth's grave was said
to be south of the town of Hald, in the district of Randers.

The story of " Hamlet " passed from Saxo into the Danish
Chronicle rhymed by a monk, Niel of Soro, about the year 1480,
and first printed at Copenhagen in 1495. Fengo is there said
to have been slain in his own house at Viborg in Jutland.

Belleforest took his story from the Latin of Saxo, with rhetorical
and moral elaborations, and some variation. Thus in the tale as
it was told by Saxo, the spy who was to overhear Hamlet's dis-

INTRODUCTION. 25

course with his mother was hidden under the straw that in old
times was strewn upon the floor. Amleth went about crowing
like a cock, and stabbed when his feet came upon somebody
concealed under the straw. Belleforest, unaccustomed to such
carpeting of royal chambers, translated the word strctmentum into
tapestry; for Belleforest was a protege of Margaret of Navarre,
familiar with the houses of French nobles in a time of growing
luxury. He died in 1583, aged fifty-three. Margaret of Navarre
began her care for him when he was seven years old, and had
just lost his father. He was educated by her and bred for the
bar, but turned poet and man of letters. Outliving his better
days, he wrote much prose of any kind that would earn bread, and
among other works the collection of tales which included that
showing, " Avec quelle ruse Amleth, qui depuis fut roy de Danne-
marck, vengea la mort de son pere Horvendille, occis par Fengon
son frere, et autre occurrence de son histoire."

The English version of Hamlet is followed in this volume by
the old story of Friar Bacon, the Franciscan friar whose clear
study of Nature gave him fame as a magician in the stories of the
people. The real Roger Bacon, born in 1214, was in his cradle
in Somersetshire when the Barons obtained from King John
his signature to Magna Charta. He belonged to a rich family,
sought knowledge from childhood, and avoided the strife of the
day. He studied at Oxford and Paris, and the death of his
father may have placed his share of the paternal estate in his
hands. He spared no cost for instructors and transcribers, books
and experiments ; mastered not only Latin thoroughly, but also
Hebrew and Greek, which not more than five men in England
then understood grammatically, although there were more who
could loosely read and speak those tongues. He was made
Doctor in Paris, and had the degree confirmed in his own Uni-
versity of Oxford. Then he withdrew entirely from the civil
strife that was arising, and joined the house of the Franciscans
in Oxford, having spent all his time in the world and two thou-
sand pounds of money in the search for knowledge. Roger

24 INTRODUCTION.

Bacon's family committed itself to the king's side in the civil
war which Henry's III.'s greed, his corruption of justice, and
violation of the denned rights of his subjects, brought upon him.
The success of the Barons ruined Bacon's family, and sent his
mother, brothers, and whole kindred into exile. Meanwhile the
philosopher, as one of the Oxford Franciscans, had come under
Grosseteste's care, and joined an Order which prided itself on the
checks put by it on the vanity of learning. But, in spite of their
self-denials, the Franciscans, at Oxford and elsewhere, included
many learned men, who, by the daily habit of their minds, were
impelled to give to scholarship a wholesome practical direction.
They were already beginning to supply the men who raised the
character of teaching at the University of Oxford till it rivalled that
of Paris. Friar Bacon was among the earliest of these teachers ; so
was Friar Bungay, who lives with him in popular tradition.

Roger Bacon saw how the clergy were entangled in subtleties of
a logic far parted from all natural laws out of which it sprang. He
believed that the use of all his knowledge, if he could but make
free use of it, would be to show how strength and peace were to
be given to the Church. And then the Pope, who had been told
of his rare acquirements and his philosophic mind, bade Roger
Bacon, disregarding any rule of his Order to the contrary, write
for him what was in his mind. Within his mind were the first
principles of a true and fruitful philosophy. But to commit to
parchment all that he had been pining to say would cost him
sixty pounds in materials, transcribers, necessary references, and
experiments. He was a Franciscan, vowed to poverty, and the
Pope had sent no money with the command to write. Bacon's
exiled mother and brothers had spent all they were worth upon
their ransoms. Poor friends furnished the necessary money, some
of them by pawning goods, upon the understanding that their
loans would be made known to his Holiness. There was a diffi-
culty between the philosopher and his immediate superiors, be-
cause the Pope's command was private, and only a relief to Bacon's
private conscience. His immediate rulers had received no orders
to relax the discipline which deprived Franciscans of the luxury of

INTRODUCTION. 25

pen and ink. But obstacles were overcome, and then Roger Bacon
produced within a year and a half, 1268-69, ms " Opus Majiis"
(Greater Work), which now forms a large closely-printed folio ;
his " Opus Minus " (Lesser Work), which was sent after the " Opus
Majus " to Pope Clement, to recapitulate its arguments and
strengthen some of its parts ; and his " Opus Tertiam " (Third
Work), which followed as a summary and introduction to the
whole, enriched with further novelty, and prefaced with a detail
of the difficulties against which its author had contended — details
necessary to be given, because, he said, that he might obey the
Pope's command the friar had pawned to poor men the credit
of the Holy See. These books, produced by Roger Bacon at
the close of Henry III.'s reign, and when he was himself fifty-
three years old, rejected nearly all that was profitless, and fastened
upon all that there was with life and power of growth in the
knowledge of his time. They set out with a principle in which
Bacon the Friar first laid the foundations of the philosophy of
Bacon the Chancellor of later time. He said that there were four
grounds of human ignorance : trust in inadequate authority ; the
force of custom ; the opinion of the inexperienced crowd ; and
the hiding of one's own ignorance with the parading of a super-
ficial wisdom. Roger Bacon advocated the free honest question-
ing of Nature ; and where books were requisite authorities, warned
men against the errors that arose from reading them in bad
translations. He would have had all true students endeavour to
read the original text of the Bible and of Aristotle. He dwelt on
the importance of a study of mathematics, adding a particular
consideration of optics, and ending with the study of Nature by
experiment, which, he said, is at the root of all other sciences,
and a basis of religion. Roger Bacon lived into the reign of
Edward I., and died in the year 1292. Friar Bacon's optics
appear in that chapter of the popular tale which tells how he took
a town by use of a great burning-glass, focussing a chief building
in the middle of it, and when he had so set it on fire, and drawn
off to it the defenders on the walls, giving the sign for an attack
upon the walls. The Brazen Head was an old friend with the

26 INTRODUCTION.

popular story-teller. William of Malmesbury, who died about
1142, says that Pope Sylvester the Second had one. Gower,
in the third book of his " Confessio Amantis," tells the story
of Grosteste, who was Roger Bacon's teacher.

" For of the grete clerk Grostest
I rede how busy that he was
Upon the clergie and heved of bras
To forge, and make it for to telle
Of suche thinge's as befelle.
And seven yeres besinesse
He laidd, but for the lachesse
Of half a minute of an houre
Fro firste he began laboure
He lost all that he hadde do."

Albertus Magnus is said to have made a brazen man, who
answered questions truly, but grew to be so loquacious that the
master's pupil, Thomas Aquinas, whose studies were disturbed
by the incessant talking, about the year 1 240, broke his head to
silence him.

The Friar Bungay who was joined with Roger Bacon in
popular fiction was another learned Franciscan, Thomas (called
also John) of Bungay in Suffolk. He is said to have taught both
at Oxford and Cambridge, and to have been buried at North-
ampton.

The prose " History of Friar Bacon " here given may probably
have been first published before Robert Greene's play of the
" Honorable History of Frier Bacon and Frier Bongay, as it
was plaied by her Majesties servants," and printed in 1594. But
there were frequent slightly differing editions of the popular prose
book upon which the play was founded.

William J. Thorns, in his preface to " The Tale of Friar Bacon,"
illustrates the popular taste for conjuring-matches, of which Friar
Bungay's contest with Vandermast is an example, by a citation,
through Flogel's " History of Court Fools," from a " History of
Bohemia," by Dubravius. This tells us that when Charles IV.
married the Bavarian Princess Sophia, the bride's father brought

INTRODUCTION. 27

into Prague, as an agreeable addition to the wedding festival, a
waggon-load of magicians. Two of the chief of them were selected
to contend together. One was the great Bohemian sorcerer Zytho,
who, after desperate trials of skill, at last opened his mouth from
ear to ear, seized his opponent, the Bavarian master Gouin, and
crammed him down his throat, head, shoulders, body, legs, but
stopped at his boots, which he spat out as not eatable because
they had not been cleaned. He then disgorged his rival safe and
sound. The reader who is gifted with a proper mediaeval spirit
should have no difficulty in swallowing both these conjurors, with
Friar Bacon, Friar Bungay, Vergil, and as many more.

The next story in our collection is a comic specimen of popular
heroics, a tall copy of the widely popular tale of " Guy of War-
wick." Its writer towered above common men with eloquence
raised high upon the stilts of blank verse that was printed like
to prose. Prose has its music, but is always bad when it so
runs into successive lines of metre that the artifice is obvious.
Such artifice of manner weakens faith in the sincerity of what
is said.

As a metrical romance, " Guy of Warwick " is as old as the thir-
teenth century, and has been doubtfully ascribed to a Franciscan
friar, Walter of Exeter. The story of Guy is laid in days before
the Norman conquest, and associated with the days of King Athel-
stane and the battle of Brunanburh. Guy is said to have been
the son of Siward, Baron of Wallingford, to have married Felice,
only daughter of the Saxon warrior Rohand, to have lived as a
hermit after overcoming Colbrond the Dane, and to have died
in the year 929. The romance sprang from the life of the twelfth
century. In the prose form here given its mediaeval spirit is
not wholly lost under the fine rhetoric of clothes with which
its body is overlaid. The earliest edition of the romance in
French prose was printed at Paris in 1525. The earliest edition
in English prose was printed by William Copland, who died
before 1570.

28 INTRODUCTION.

The old Danish tale of " Friar Rush," a satire on the monks,
is found in Low German verse of the end of the fifteenth or
beginning of the sixteenth century. It was printed also in High
German verse at Strasburg in 1515. It was printed again at
Niirnberg soon after the middle of the sixteenth century, and
again at Magdeburg in 1587. Both in the Low German and the
High German versions the Devil Russche or Rausch was re-
ceived as cook in a Danish monastery to the north of the Lake of
Esrom, where there is now, by its wooded shore, a village of that
name, about eleven miles from Elsineur, in Seeland. Pontoppidan,
in his " Theatrum Danice" says that before the Monastery of
Esserum was made into a dwelling-house, Brother Rush's effigy
was to be seen there, with an epitaph in lines each beginning with
Latin words and ending with Danish. They showed also for a
long time in the same monastery Brother Rush's cauldron and
gridiron. There is a Danish poem on the subject, and also this
popular tradition, translated by W. J. Thorn from Thiele's
" Danske Folksagn."

"BROTHER RUSH.

" It is related that when the Devil once upon a time saw how
piously and virtuously the Monks lived in the Monastery of
Esrom, he took upon himself the shape of a man, and went to
the gate and knocked at it, for to be let in, saying that his name
was Rush. Then he gave himself out that he was a Cook's-boy,
and was received as such by the Abbot But when he was once
by himself with the Master Cook, he set himself up against him,
and got himself therefore punishment. At this he was sore dis-
pleased ; and as he had previously a cauldron with water over the
fire, and he now perceived that it boiled, he took with all his
might the Master Cook, and placing him head downwards in it,
began thereupon to run about and to cry, lamenting the misfor-
tune as if it had happened to his master in cooking. Thus he
cheated in this manner with falsehood all the brothers in the
cloister, that they thought him altogether free, and he was now
appointed by them the Master Cook. But it was what he had

INTRODUCTION. 29

strived after, in order that he might afterwards deprave them alto-
gether ; for now he cooked the meat so unctuously and lickerishly,
that the monks neglected fasts and prayers, and gave themselves
to feasting. Nay, it is said also that he brought women into the
Monastery, and came thereby much in the Abbot's favour, so that
he at last caused him to become a Brother, because he well desired
constantly to have such a cook at hand. From that time strife
and malice prevailed so severely in the Monastery that it had
surely come in the power of the Evil One, if none of the Brethren
had repented in time. For instance, once Brother Rush was in
the wood, and having there seen a beautiful fat cow, he slew it,
and took himself one quarter with him to the Monastery, but
hung up the rest on a tree in the forest. Then presently came by
the countryman who owned the cow ; and when he perceived how
the three quarters hung in the tree, he hid himself in the other
trees to watch until the thief fetched away the remainder. Then
he saw, as he sat there, how the Devils had their sport in the
forest, and heard much talking about Rush, how he would invite
the Abbot and Monks to the banquet with him in Hell. This
caused the countryman great alarm, and the next day he went
to the Abbot and related to him all that he had seen and heard
in the forest.

" When the Abbot heard this he caused all the monks to come
to him in the church, and they began there to pray and to sing,
so that Rush, as he could not abide the like, was desirous to
sneak away. But the Abbot grasped him by the cloak and
exorcised him into a red horse, and gave him into the power of
Hell. For many years after these events they showed in the
Monastery of Esrom Rush's Iron Cauldron and Gridiron."

Friar Rush comes, in fact, from the land of the Pucks. His
legend abounds in touches common to the old Northern concep-
tions of a tricksy and malicious spirit, deepened afterwards in
meaning by association with such satire on the earthly life of
monks as we have in the old " Land of Cockayne."

30 INTRODUCTION.

So ends the list of the good things in this hamper of romance,
which is filled up, by way of packing-straw, with some of the
"Hundred Merry Tales." He said "that I had my good wit
out of the ' Hundred Merry Tales,' " said Beatrice of Benedict.
Only two copies of this once popular book are known, and they
were both printed by John Rastell. One of them was partly
recovered in 1815 by the Rev. J. J. Conybeare, in leaves, from
more than one copy of it that had been used in making the
pasteboard found binding another book. It was reprinted at
once after its discovery, by Mr. S. W. Singer, in an edition of two
hundred and fifty copies, and reprinted again in 1864 by Mr. W.
Carew Hazlitt, in the first of the three series of his pleasant col-
lection of "Shakespeare Jest Books." In 1866 Dr. Herman
Oesterley published another edition of "A Hundred Merry Tales,"
from the other known copy, which is dated 1526, and is in the
Royal Library of the University of Gottingen, for which it was
bought in 1768 at an auction in Liineburg. The tales here used
as packing-straw are taken from Dr. Herman Oesterley's edition
of the complete book.

H. M.

CARISBROOKE}I/«/P 1889.

ELEVEN OF THE HUNDRED MERRY
TALES.

Of him that fay d tliat a wo mas tong was light if t met of degeftio.

A CERTAYN artificer in londo there was which was fore fyk that
coud not well dygeft hys mete/ to who a phyfyco cam to gyue
hym councell & feyd yl he mull vfe to ete metis yl be light of
dygeftyon as fmall byrdys/ as fparous or fwallous & efpecyall
yl byrd yl ys callyd a wagtale whofe flefhe ys merueloufe lyght of
dygeftyo becaufe that byrd ys euer mouyng & ftyryng. The fik
man heryng the phelicion feyd fo anfweryd hym & feyd/ Syr yf
that be the caufe yl thofe birdys be lyght of dygeftyon/ Than I
know a mete mych lyghter of dygeftion tha other fparow fwallow
or wagtayle/ & that ys my wyuys tog for it is neuer in reft but
euer mouying & ftyrryng.

IT By thys tale ye may lerne a good generall rule of phefyk.

Of the woman that folowyd her fotirth hujlandys herce & wept.

A WOMAN ther was whych had had .iiii. hufbades. It fortunyd
alfo that this fourth hufband died & was brought to chirch vppon
ye bere/ who this worna folowyd & made gret inone & wext very
fory. In fo mych that her neybours thought fhe wold fowne & dy
for forow/ wherfor one of her goffyps cam to her & fpake to her in
her ere & bad her for goddes fake to comfort her felf & refrayne
that lamentacon or ellys it wold hurt her gretly & pauenture put
her in ieoperdy of her lyfe. To who this woma afweryd & fayd/

32 THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES.

I wys good gofyp I haue gret caufe to morne if ye knew all/ for
I haue byryed .iii. hulbandys befyde thys man/ but I was neuer
i the cafe yt I am now/ for there was not one of the but whe that
I folowid the corfe to chyrch yet I was fure alway of an other
hufbad before that ye corfe cam out of my houfe/ & now I am
fure of no nother huiband & therfore ye may be fure I haue gret
caufe to be fad and heuy.

IT By thys tale ye may fe that the olde puerbe ys trew that yt
is as gret pyte to fe a woman wepe as a gofe to go barefote.

Of the woman that fay d her wooer came to late.

A NOTHER woman there was that knelyd at ye mas of requie whyle
the corfe of her hufbande lay on the bere in the chyrch. To
whom a yonge man came to fpeke wyth her in her ere as thoughe
hyt had bene for fom matre concernyng the funerallys/ howe be
yt he fpake of no fuch matter but only wowyd her that he myghte
be her hufbande/ to whome fhe anfweryde & fayde thus/ Syr by
my trouthe I am fory that ye come fo late/ for I am fped all redy/
For I was made fure yefter day to a nother man.

H By thys tale ye may perceyue that women ofte tymes be wyfe
and lothe to lofe any tyme.

Of the horfman of yrelond that pray d Oconer to hang vp
the fr ere.

ONE callyd Oconer an yrifh lorde toke an horfeman pryfoner
that was one of hys gret enmys/ whiche for any requeft or yntrety
y* ye horfman made gaue iugement that he fhulde incotynet be
hagyd/ & made a frere to fhryue hym and bad hym make hym
redy to dye. Thys frere y* fhroue hym examyned hym of dyuers
fynes & aikyd hym amog othere whyche were the grettyfte fynnys
that euer he dyde/ thys horfeman anfweryd & fayde one of the
grettyft aclys that euer I dyde whyche I now moft repent is that
when I toke Oconer the lafte weke in a churche and ther I myght
haue brennyd hym church and all & becaufe I had confcyence

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 33

& pyte of brennyng of the church I taryed ye tyme fo long ye
oconer efcaped/ & that fame deferring of brennyng of the church
& fo long taryeng of that tyme is one of the word actys y* euer
I dyd wherof I mofte repente/ Thys frere perceyuyng hym in
that mynd fayd pece man in the name of god & change y* mynde
& dye in charite or els thou malt neuer come in heuen/ nay quod
the hors man I wyll neuer change y* mynde what fo euer mail
come to my foule/ thys frere pceyuyng hym thys ftyll to contynew
hys mide ca to oconer & feyd fyr in ye name of god haue fome
pyte vppo thys mannys fowle & let hym not dye now tyll he be
in a better mynde/ For yf he dye now he ys fo far out of charyte
y* vtterly hys foule fhalle be dampnyd/ and fhewyd hym what mynde
he was in & all the hole matter as ys before fhewyd. Thys horf-
man heryng ye frere thys intrete for hym fayd to oconer thys/
Oconer thou feeyft well by thys mannys reporte y4 yf I dye now
I am out of charyte & not redy to go to heuen & fo it ys y* I am
now out of charyte in dede/ but thou feeft well y* this frere ys a
good man he is now well dyfpofyd & in charyte/ and he is redy
to go to heuen & fo am not I/ therfore I pray the hang vp thys
frere whyle that he hys redy to go to heuyn and lette me tary
tyl a nother tyme y* I may be i charyte and redy & mete to
go to heuyn. This Oconer heryng this mad anfwere of hym
fparyd the man & forgaue hym hys lyfe at that feafon.

H By thys ye may fe that he that is in daunger of his enmye
y* hath no pyte/ he can do no better than mew to hym the vtter-
mofte of hys malycyous mynde whych that he beryth toward hym.

Of 'the preft that fayd nother corpus metis nor corpum meum.

THE archdekyn of Effex y* had bene long in au6loryte in a tyme
of vyfytacion when all the preeftys apperyd before hym callyd
afyde .iii. of ye yog preflys whych were accufyd yl they coud not
well fay theyr deuyne feruyce/ & afkyd of the whe they fayd mas
whether they fayd corpus meus or corpu meu. The furft preeft
fayd yf he fayd corpus meus. The fecod fayd y* he fayd corpu
meu. And the he afltyd of the thyrd how he fayd/ whych

c

34 THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES.

anfweryd & fayd thus/ fyr becaufe it is fo gret a dout & dyuers
men be in dyuers opynyons/ therfore becaufe I wold be fure
I wold not offend whe I come to ye place I leue it clene out
& fay nothyng therfore/ wherfore he then openly rebukyd
them all thre. But dyuers that were prefent thought more defaut
in hym becaufe he hym felfe before tyme had admyttyd them to
be preeftys.

f By thys tale ye may fe that one ought to take hede how he
rebukyth an other left it torne moft to hys owne rebuke.

Of the .it. frerys wherofthe one louyd not the ele hed nor the
other the tayle.

Two frerys fat at a gentylmans tabyll whych had before hym 6 a
faftyng day an ele & cut the hed of the ele & layd it vppo one of
ye Freres trechars/ but the Frere becaufe he wold haue had of
ye myddyll part of the ele fayd to the gentylman he louyd no
ele heddes/ this gentylman alto cut the tayle of ye ele & leyd it
on the other Freres trechar/ he lykewyfe becaufe he wold haue
had of the myddyll pte of ye ele fayd he louyd no ele taylys.
Thys gentylma perceyuyng that : gaue the tayle to the Frere
y*. fayd he louyd not the hed/ & gaue the hed to hym that fayd
he louyd not ye tayle. And as for the myddell part of the ele
he ete part him felf & part he gaue to other folke at ye table/
wherfore thefe freres for anger wold ete neuer a moffell/ & fo
they for all theyr craft & fubtylte were not onely deceyued of
ye beft moffel of ye ele/ but therof had no part at al.

f By this ye fe that they that couet the beft part fomtyme
therfore lofe the meane part and all.

Of the wekhma thatjliroue hym for brekyng his faff on the fry day.

A WELCHMAN dwellynge in a wylde place of walys came to hys
curate in the tyme of lent & was cofeffed. & when his con-
feffyon was in maner at the end the curate afked him whether
he had any other thyng to say y* greuyd his cofcyece/ whych fore

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 35

abafshyd anfweryd no word a gret whyle/ at lafl by exortacion of
hys gooftly fader he fayd y* there was one thyng in his mynd that
gretly greuyd his cofciece which he was ailiamed to vtter/ for
it was fo greuous yl he trowid god wold neuer forgyue hym/ to
whom the curate afweryd & fayd y4 goddys mercy was aboue all/
& bad hym not dyfpayre in the mercy of god/ For what fo
euer it was yf he were repentaute y* god wold forgyue him/ And
fo by long exortacion at the lall he fhewyd it & feyd thus/ Syr
it happenyd onis that as my wyfe was making a chefe vppon a
fryday I wold haue fayed whether it had ben fait or frem and
toke a lytyll of the whey in my hand & put it in my mouth & or
I was ware part of it went downe my throte agaynft my wyll &
fo I brake my fart/ to whom the curate fayd & if ther be no nother
thyng I warant god {hall forgiue the. So wha he had well com-
fortyd hym w* ye mercy of god the curate prayd hym to anfwer a
queftion & to tell hym treuth/ & when the welchman had pro-
myfyd to tell the treuth/ the curate fayd that there were robberys and
murders done nye the place where he dwelt & dyuers men foiid
ilayne & afkyd hym whether he were cofentyng to any of them/
to who he anfwerid & fayd yes & fayd he was ptee to many of
them & dyd helpe to robbe and to lie dyuers of them. Then
the curate afkyd hym why he dyd not cofetie him therof/ the
welch man afweryd & fayd he toke y* for no fynne for it was a
cuftome amonge them y* whan any boty came of any rych merchaunt
rydyng y* it was but a good neybours dede one to help a nother
when one callyd a nother/ & fo they toke that but for good fely-
fliyp & neybourhod.

IT Here ye may fe y' fome haue remorfe of confcyence of fmall
venyall finys & fere not to do gret offencys w'out fliame of ye world
or drede of god : & as ye coen puerb is they ftiible at a ftraw &
lepe ouer a blok.

Of the merchant of lodo that put nobles 1 his mouth 1 his deth bed.

A RYCH couetous marchate ther was y* dwellyd in Lodon whych
euer gaderyd money & coud neuer fynd in hys hert to fpend

36 THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES.

noght vppon hym felf nor vppon no ma els/ whych fell fore fyk/
& as he lay on hys deth bed had hys purs lyeng at hys beddys
hed/ & had fuche a loue to hys money that he put his hand in his
purs & toke out thereof .x. or .xii. li i nobles & put them in his
mouth/ And becaufe his wyfe and other pceyuyd him very fyk
and lyke to dye they exortyd hym to be confeflyd and brought ye
curate vnto him/ whych when they had caufyd hym to fey Bene-
dicite ye curat bad hym cry god mercy & mew his fynnys.
Than this fyk man began to fey 1 cry god mercy I haue ofTendyd
in ye .vij. dedly fynnys & broken the .x. comaundementys/ & be-
caufe of the gold in hys mouth he mufflede fo in hys fpeche that
the curate cowde not well vnderftande hym/ wherefore the curate
aiked hym what he hadde in hys mouthe that letted hys fpeche/
I wys maftere perfone quod the fyk man muffelynge I haue nothyng
in my mouth but a lyttyll money becaufe I wot not whether
I mall go 1 thoughte I wolde take fome fpendyng money wyth me
for I wot not what nede I mail haue therof/ And incontynent after
that feyynge dyed before he was confelfed or repentant that ony
man could perceue/ and fo by lykelyhode went to the deuyll.

51 By thys tale ye may fe that they that all theyre lyuys wylle
neuer do charyte to theyr neyghbours/ that god in tyme of theyr
dethe wyll not fuffer them to haue grace of repentaunce.

Of the my Iner that f tale the nutty s 6° of the tayler that f tale a f keep.

THERE was a certayn ryche hufbandman in a vyllage whych
loued nottes merueloufly well & fet trees of filberdys & other
nut trees in his orchard/ & norifhid them well all hys lyfe/ &
when he dyed he made hys executours to make promife to bery
w* hym yn hys graue a bage of nottis or els they fholde not be hys
executours/ which executours for fere of lofyng theyre romys ful-
fyllyd hys wyll & dyd fo. It happenyd y* the fame nyght after
that he was beryed there was a mylnere in a whyte cote came
to this mays garden to thetet td ftele a bag of nottis/ & in ye
way he met w* a tayler in a blak cote an vnthrift of hys accoyri-
tauce & fliewyd hym hys intent/ This tayler lykewyfe mewyd

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 37

hym y* he intedyd ye fame tyme to ftele a ihepe/ & fo they
both there agreyd to go forthward euery man feuerally w' hys
purpofe & after yl they apoynted to make good chere ech wl other
& to mete agayne in ye chyrch porch/ & he that came furft to
tary for the other.

This mylner when he had fpede of hys nottis came furft to the
chyrch porche & there taryed for hys felowe and the mene whyle
fatte ftyll there & knakked nottys.

It fortuned than the fexten of the church becaufe yt was abowt
.ix. of the clok cam to ryng curfu. & when he lokyd in ye porch
& faw one all in whyte knakkyng nottes/ he had went it had
bene ye dede man ryfen owt of hys graue knakkynge ye nottes
yl were byryed w* hym & ran home agayn in all haft and tolde to
a krepyll yl was in hys howfe what he had fene. This crepyll
thus heryng rebukyd ye fexten & feyd yl yf he were able to go
he wold go thyder & coiure ye fprite/ by my trouth quod ye fexten
& yf thou darft do yl I wyl bere the on my nek & fo they both
agreed. The fexten toke ye crepul on hys nek & cam in to yc
chyrchyard agayn/ & ye mylner in ye porch faw one comyng
bering a thing on his bak had went it had ben ye taylour comyng
w* the fhepe & rofe vp to mete the/ & as he cam towarde the
he afkeyd & feyd/ Is he fat/ is he fat/ ye fexten heryng hym
fey fo/ for fere caft the crepull down & feyd fat or lene take hym
ther for me/ and ran away/ & the creple by myracle was made hole
& ra away as faft as he or farter/ This mylner perceyuing y* they
were .ii. & y* one ran after a nother fuppofyng yl one had fpyed
ye tayler ftelyng ye fhepe & yl he had ron after hym to haue taken
hym/ and fered y* fom body alfo had fpyed hym ftelyng nottes he
for fere left hys nottes behynd hym and as fecretly as he cowde
ran home to hys myll/ And anon after y* he was gon ye tayler
cam w* the ftolyn fhepe vppon hys nek to the chyrch porch to
feke the mylner & when he fownd ther the not Ihalys he fuppofyd
y* hys felow had be ther and gone home as he was in dede/ where-
fore he toke vp ye fhepe agayne on hys nek and went to ward
the myl/ But yet duryng this whyle the fexte which ran away
went not to hys owne houfe but wet to the pym pryftis chaber/

38 THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES.

& fliewd hym how the fpryte of ye man was ryf6 out of hys graue
knakklg nottes as ye haue hard before/ wherfor ye preft fayd that
he wold go coiure hym yf the fexten wold go w* hym/ & fo they
both agreed/ ye prefl dyd on hys furples & a ftole about hys nek
& toke holy water w1 hym and cam w* the fexte toward ye church/
& as fone as he enteryd in to ye church yarde, The tayler w* the
whyte fhepe on hys nek intendyng as I before haue fhewid yow
to go down to ye myll met w1 them & had went y* ye preft in hys
furples had ben ye mylner in hys whyte cote/ & feyd to hym by
god I haue hym I haue hym meanyng by the ihepe y* he had
ftolyn/ the preft perceyuynge the tayler all in blak & a whyte
thyng on his nek had went it had ben ye deuyll beryng away
the fpryte of ye dede man yl was beryed & ran away as fafte as he
coud takyng ye way downe toward the myll/ & ye fexten ronnyng
after hi. This tayler feyng one folowyng hi had went y4 one had
folowed the mylner to haue don hym fome hurt & thought he
wold folow if nede were to help ye mylner. & went forth tyl he
cam to the myll & knokked at ye myldore/ ye mylner beyng w'yn
afked who was ther ye tayler afwerd & faid by god I haue caught
one of them & made hi fure & tyed hym faft by ye leggys menynge
by the fhepe y* he had ftolen & had the on hys nek tyed faft by
the leggys. But ye mylner heryng hym fey y* he had hym tyed
faft by the leggys had wente it had be the conftable y1 had take
the tayler for ftelyng of the Ihepe & had tyed him by the leggys/
& ferid y* he had comen to haue taken hym alfo for ftelyng of
the nottys/ wherfore the mylner openyd a bak dore & ran away
as faft as he coud. The taylour heryng the bak dore openyng
wet on ye other fyde of ye myll/ & there faw the mylner ronnyng
away/ & ftode there a littyll whyle mufyng w1 ye ihepe on. his
nek. Then was the paryfh preeft & the fexte ftandyng there
vnder the mylhoufe hydyng them for fere & faw the taylour agayn
w* y° mepe on his nek had wend ftyll it had bene the dyuyll w*
the fpryt of the dede man on hys nek & for fere ran away/ but
becaufe they knew not the ground well/ the preeft lepte into a
dyche almoft ouer the hed lyke to be drounyd that he cryed wyth
a loud voyce help help. Then the taylour lokyd about & faw

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 39

the mylner rone away & the fexten a nother way & hard the
preeft cry help : had wend it had bene the coftable w* a gret
copany cryeng for help to take hym & to bryng hym to pryfon for
ftelyng of ye fhepe wherfore he threw downe the fhepe & ran
away a nother way as fafte as he coud/ & fo euery man was afferd
of other wythout caufe.

IT By thys ye may fe well it is foly for any man to fere a thyng
to mych tyll that he fe fome proue or caufe.

Of the woman that powryd the potage in the Tuggys male.

THERE was a iuftyce but late in ye realme of englond called
matter Uauyfour a very homly man & rude of condycions &
louyd neuer to fped mych money/ This mailer Uauyfour rode on
a tyme in hys cyrcute in a place of the north cotrey where he
had agreed w* the fhyryf for a certayn fome of money for hys
chargys thorowe the fhyre/ fo that at euery Inne & lodgyng thys
matter vauefour payd for hys own coftys. It fortunyd fo y* when
he cam to a certayn lodgyng he comaunded one Torpyn hys
feruat to fe y* he vfed good huibondry & to faue fuche thynges
as were laft & to cary it w* hym to ferue hym at the next baytyng.
Thys Torpyn doyng hys matters comaudemet toke ye brokyn
brede brokyn mete & all fych thig y* was laft & put it in hys male/
The wyfe of ye houfe pceyuyng y' he toke all fuche fragmentys &
vytayle w* hym yl was laft & put it in hys male/ fhe brought vp
y1 podege yl was laft i the pot & when torpyn had torned hys bak
a lytyll fyde fhe pouryd ye podege in to yc male whych ran vpon
hys robe of Ikarlet & other hys garmetys & rayed them very
euyll that they were mych hurt therwt. Thys Torpyn fodeynly
tornyd him & faw it/ reuylyd the wyfe therfor & ran to hys
matter & told hym what me had don/ wherfor matter Uauefour
incotinet callyd ye wyfe & feyd to her thus. Thou drab quod he
what haft thou do why haft thou pouryd ye podege in my male
& marryd my raymet & gere/ O fyr quod ye wyfe I know well ye
ar a iudge of ye realme/ & I perceyue by you : your mid is to do
ryght & to haue that that is your owne/ £ your mynd is to haue
all thyng w* you y* ye haue payd for/ both brokyn brede mete

40 THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES.

& other thynges yl is left : & fo it is reafon that ye haue/ & ther-
fore becaufe your feruant hath taken the brede & the mete &
put it i your male I haue therfore put in your male the podege
y* be laft becaufe ye haue well & truly payd for them for yf 1
fhuld kepe ony thyng from you yl ye haue payd for : peraduenture
ye wold troble me in the law an other tyme.

11" Here ye may fe y* he y' playth the nygarde to mych fome-
tyme yt torneth hym to hys owne lofle.

Of the man that wold haue the pot ft and there as he mold.

A YONGE man late maryed to a wyfe thowght it was good polycy
to get the mayftry of her in the begynnynge. Cam to her the pot
fethynge ouer ye fyre all though the mete therin were not inough
fodenly comaundyd her to take the pot from the fyre. whyche
anfweryd & fayde that ye mete was not redy to ete. And he
fayd agayne I wyll haue it taken of for my pleafure. This good
woman loth yet to offend hym fet ye pot befyde the fyre as he
bad. And anone after he comauded her to fet the pot behynde
the dore/ & me fayd therto agayne ye be not wyfe therin. But
he precifely fayd it fholde be fo as he bad. And me gentylly
agayne did his comaudment. This man yet not fatysfyed co-
maunded her to fet the pot a hygh vpon the hen roft/ what quod
ye wyf agayne I trow ye be mad. And he fyerfly than comaunded
her to fet it there or els he fayd me fholde repet She fome-
what aferde to moue his pacience toke a ladder and fet it to the
rooft/ and wet herfelf vp the ladder and toke the pot in her hande
prayeng her hulbande than to holde the ladder faft for ilydynge/
whiche fo dyd.

And whenne the huibande lokyd vp and fawe the Potte ftande
there on hyght he fayde thus. Lo now Handy th the pot there as
I wolde haue it This wyfe herynge that fodenly pouryd the hote
potage on his hed & fayd thus. And now bene the potage there
as I wolde haue them.

U By this tale men may fe it is no wyfedome for a man to
attempte a meke womas pacyece to far left it torne to his owne
hurte & damage.

THE HISTORY

OF

REYNARD THE FOX,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES.

I.

THE HISTORY OF REYNARD
THE FOX.

Here beginneth the History of Reynard the Fox.

gn ifys I)isforg ben written the parables, good lerynge,1 and
diverse points to be marked, by which points men may learn
to come to the subtle knowledge of such things as daily ben
used and had in the counsels of lords and prelates, ghostly and
worldly, and also among merchants and other common people.
And this book is made for need and profit of all good folk, as
far as they in reading or hearing of it shall mowe 2 understand and
feel the foresaid subtle deceits that daily ben used in the world ;
not to the intent that men should use them, but that every man
should eschew and keep him from the subtle false shrews, that
they be not deceived. Then who that will have the very under-
standing of this matter, he must oft and many times read in this
book, and earnestly and diligently mark well that he readeth ;
for it is set subtlely, like as ye shall see in reading of it ; and not
once to read it, for a man shall not with once over reading find
the right understanding ne comprise it well ; but ofttimes to read
it shall cause it well to be understood. And for them that under-
standeth it, it shall be right joyous, pleasant, and profitable.

1 Lcryng, doctrine. 2 Mowc, be able to.

44 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

CHAPTER I.

Hoiv the Lion, King of all Beasts, sent out his commandments that
all Beasts should come to his feast and Court.

IT was about the time of Pentecost or Whitsuntide, that the
woods commonly be lusty and gladsome, and the trees clad
with leaves and blossoms, and the ground with herbs and flowers
sweet smelling, and also the fowls and birds singing melodiously
in their harmony, that the Lion, the noble King of all Beasts,
would in the holy days of this feast hold an open Court at state ;
which he did to know 1 over all in his land, and commanded by
straight commissions and commandments that every Beast should
come thither, in such wise that all the Beasts great and small
came to the Court save Reynart the Fox : for he knew himself
faulty and guilty in many things against many Beasts that thither
should comen, that he durst not adventure to go thither. When
the King of all Beasts had assembled all his Court, there was
none of them all but that he had complained sore on Reynart
the Fox.

CHAPTER II.

The first complaint made Isegrim the Wolf on Reynart.

ISEGRIM the Wolf, with his lineage and friends, came and stood
before the King, and said, " High and Mighty Prince, my Lord
the King, I beseech you that through your great might, right,
and mercy, that ye will have pity on the great trespass and the
unreasonable misdeeds that Reynart the Fox hath done to me
and to my wife : that is to wit, he is comen in to my house
against the will of my wife, and there he hath bepissed my
children whereas they lay, in such wise as they thereof ben
waxen blind. Whereupon was a day set, and was judged that
Reynart should come and have excused him hereof, and have
sworn on the holy srunts that he was not guilty thereof. And
1 Did to know, caused to be made known.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 45

when the book with the saints was brought forth, tho l had Reynart
bethought him otherwise, and went his way again into his hole,
as he had naught set thereby. And, dear King, this knowen
well many of the Beasts that now be comen hither to your
Court. And yet hath he trespassed to me in many other things.
He is not living that could tell all that I now leave untold. But
the shame and villainy that he hath done my wife, that shall I
never hide ne suffer it unavenged, but that he shall make to me
large amends.

CHAPTER III.

The complaint of Courtoys the Hound.

WHEN these words were spoken, so stood there a little Hound
and was named Courtoys, and complained to the King, how that
in the cold winter in the hard frost he had ben sore forwintered,
in such wise as he had kept no more meat than a pudding, which
pudding Reynart the Fox had taken away from him.

Tho spake Tybert the Cat.

WITH this so came Tybert the Cat, with an irous 2 mood, and
sprang in among them, and said : " My Lord the King, I here
hear that Reynart is sore complained on, and here is none but
that he hath enough to do to clear himself. That Courtoys
here complaineth of, that is passed many years gone, howbeit,
that I complain not ; that pudding was mine, for I had won it by
night in a mill. The miller lay and slept. If Courtoys had any
part hereon, that came by me too."

Tho spake Panther, " Think ye, Tybert, that it were good that
Reynart should not be complained on ? He is a very murderer,
a rover, and a thief, he loveth no man so well, not our Lord the
King here, but that he well would that he should lose good and wor-
ship, so that he might win as much as a leg of a fat hen. I shall
tell you what I saw him do yesterday to Cuwart the Hare, that
here standeth in the King's peace and safeguard. He promised
* Tho, then. 2 Irous, angry.

46 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

lo Cuwart and said he would teach him his Credo, and make him
a good chaplain. He made him go sit between his legs, and sang
and cried loud, * Credo, Credo ! ' My way lay thereby there that
I heard this song. Tho went I near and found Master Reynart
that had left that he first read and sang, and began to play his
old play. For he had caught Cuwart by the throat, and had I
not that time comen he should have taken his life from him, like
as ye here may see on Cuwart the Hare the fresli wound yet.
Forsooth, my Lord the King, if ye suffer this unpunished, and let
him go quit that hath thus broken your peace, and will do no
right after the sentence and judgment of your men, your children
many years hereafter shall be misprised and blamed therefor."

"Sikerly, Panther," said Isegrim, "ye say truth. It were
good that right and justice were done, for them that would fain
live in peace."

CHAPTER IV.

How Grymlart the Dasse * the Fox's sister's son spake for Reynart
and^ answered to/ore the King.

THEN spake Grymbart the Dasse, and was Reynart's sister's son,
with an angry mood.

"Sir Isegrim that is evil said. It is a common proverb an
enemy's mouth saith seld well. What lie ye and wite 2 ye mine
Erne 3 Reynart ? I would that ye would adventure that who of you
twain had most trespassed to other should hang by the neck as a
thief on a tree. But and if he were as well in this court and as
well with the King as ye be, it should not be thought in him that
it were enow that ye should come and ask him forgiveness ; ye
have bitten and nipped mine uncle with your fell and sharp teeth
many more times than I can tell Yet will I tell some points
that I well know. Know not ye how ye misdealed on the plaice
which he threw down from the car, when ye followed after from
afar, and ye ate the good plaice alone, and gave him no more
than the grate or bones which ye might not eat yourself. In like-
Badger (Dutch, dasje). 2 \Vite, blame. 8 Erne, uncle,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. ' A7

wise did ye to him also of the fat flitch of bacon which savoured
so well that ye alone ate it in your belly, and when mine Erne
asked his part tho answered ye him again in scorn, ' Reynart, fair
youngling, I shall gladly give you your part' — but mine Erne gat ne
had nought, ne was not the better. Notwithstanding he had won
the flitch of bacon with great dread, for the man came and threw
him in a sack that he scarcely came out with his life. Such
manner things hath Reynart many times suffered through Ise-
grim. O ye lordes, think ye that this is good? Yet is there
more. He complaineth how that Reynart mine Erne hath
much trespassed to him by cause of his wife. Mine Erne hath
lain by her, but that is well seven years tofore, ere he wedded
her ; and if Reynart for love and courtesy did with her his will,
what was that ? She was soon healed thereof. Hereof by right
should be no complaint, were Isegrim wise. He should have
believed that he doth to himself no worship thus to slander his
wife. She plaineth not. Now maketh Cuwart the Hare a com-
plaint also. That thinketh me a vyseuase.1 If he read ne
learned aright his lesson, should not Reynart his master beat
him therefor? If the scholars were not beaten ne smitten and
reprised 2 of their truantry, they should never learn. Now com-
plaineth Courtoys that he with pain had gotten a pudding in
the winter, at such time as the cost 3 is evil to find. Thereof him
had be better to have held his peace, for he had stolen it.
Male qucesisti et male perdidisti. It is right that it be evil lost
that is evil won. Who shall blame Reynart if he have taken
from a thief stolen good. It is reason. Who that understandeth
the law, and can discern the right, and that he be of high birth
as mine Erne Reynart is, knoweth well how he shall resseyue
stolen good. Yet all had he Courtoys hanged when he found
him with the menour 4 he had not much misdone nor trespassed,
save against the Crown, that he had done justice without leave.
Wherefore for the honour of the King he did it not, all hath he
but little thanks. What scathed it him that he is thus complained

1 Visevase, wish-wash. 2 Reprised, reprehended. 3 Cost, food (kost).

4 With the menour, in the very act, i.e., with the thing stolen in his hands^

48 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

on ? Mine Erne is a gentle and true man. He may suffer no
falsehood. He doth nothing but by his priest's counsel. And
I say you, sith that my lord the King hath do proclaim 1 his
peace, he never thought to hurt any man ; for he eateth no more
than once a day ; he liveth as a recluse ; he chastiseth his body,
and weareth a shirt of hair; it is more than a year that he hath
eaten no flesh. As I yesterday heard say of them that came
from him he hath left and given over his Castle Maleperduys
and hath builded a cluse ; therein dwelleth he and hunteth no
more ne desireth no winning, but he liveth by alms and taketh
nothing but such as men give him for charity, and doth great
penance for his sins, and he is waxen much pale and lean of
praying and waking, for he would be fain with God."

Thus as Grymbart his Erne stood and preached these words, so
saw they coming down the hill to them Chanticleer the Cock and
brought on a bier a dead hen of whom Reynart had bitten the
head off, and that must be showed to the King for to have
knowledge thereof.

CHAPTER V.
How the Cock complained on Reynart.

CHANTICLEER came forth and smote piteously his hands and his
feathers ; and on each side of the bier wenten tweyne sorrowful
hens, that one was called Cantart and that other good hen Crayant,
they were two the fairest hens that were between Holland and
Arderne. These hens bare each of them a burning taper which
was long and straight These two hens were Coppen's sisters,
and they cried so piteously " Alas and weleaway " for the death of
their dear sister Coppen. Two young hens bare the bier, which
cackled so heavily and wept so loud for the death of Coppen their
mother, that it was very hard. Thus came they together tofore
the King.

And Chanticleer tho said, " Merciiul lord, my lord the King,
please it you to hear our complaint and abhor the great scathe
1 Hath do proclaim, hath caused to be proclaimed.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 49

that Reynart hath done to me and my children that here stand.
It was so that in the beginning of April, when the weather is fair,
as that I, as hardy and proud because of the great lineage that I
am come of and also had, for I had eight fair sons and seven fair
daughters which my wife had hatched, and they were all strong
and fat, and went in a yard which was walled round about, in
which was a shed wherein were six great dogs which had totore
and plucked many a beast's skin in such wise as my children were
not afraid. On whom Reynart the thief had great envy because
they were so sure that he could none get of them ; how well
ofttimes hath this fell thief gone round about this wall and hath
laid for us in such wise that the dogs have be set on him and have
hunted him away ; and once they leapt on him upon the bank,
and that cost him somewhat for his theft, I saw that his skin
smoked. Nevertheless he went his way. God amend it !
. " Thus were we quit of Reynart a long while. At last came he
in likeness of an hermit, and brought to me a letter for to read,
sealed with the King's seal, in which stood written that the King
had made peace over all in his realm, and that all manner beasts
and fowls should do none harm nor scathe to any other. Yet said
he to me more that he was a cloisterer or a closed recluse be-
comen, and that he would receive great penance for his sins.
He showed me his slavyne and pylche x and an hairen shirt there-
under, and then said he, ' Sir Chanticleer after this time be no
more afraid of me, ne take no heed, for I now will eat no more
flesh. I am forthon so old that I would fain remember my soul.
I will now go forth, for I have yet to say my sexte, none, and mine
evensong. To God I betake 2 you." Tho went Reynart thence,
saying his Credo, and laid him under an hawthorn. Then I was
glad and merry, and also took none heed, and went to my chil-
dren and clucked them together, and went without the wall for
to walk ; whereof is much harm comen to us, for Reynart lay
under a bush and came creeping between us and the gate, so that
he caught one of my children and laid him in his male.3 Whereof

1 Slavyne and pilch, old shoes (Dutch, sloffen} and skincoat.
" Betake, commend, entrust. 3 Male, bag, wallet.

So THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

we have great harm, for sith he hath tasted of him there might
never hunter ne hound save ne keep him from us. He hath
waited by night and day in such wise that he hath stolen so many
of my children that of fifteen I have but four, in such wise hath
this thief forslongen l them. And yet yesterday was Coppen my
daughter, that here lieth upon the bier, with the hounds rescued.
This complain I to you, gracious King, have pity on mine great
and unreasonable damage and loss of my fair children ! "

CHAPTER VL

ffow the King spake touching this complaint.

THEN spake the King :

" Sir Basse, hear ye this well of the recluse of your Eme ? He
hath fasted and prayed, that if I live a year he shall abye2 it.
Now hark, Chanticleer, your plaint is enough. Your daughter
that lieth here dead, we will give to her the death's rite. We
may keep her no longer, we will betake her to God. We will
sing her vigil and bring her worshipfully on earth, and then we
will speak with these lords and take counsel how we may do
right and justice of this great murder, and bring this false thief to
the law.

Tho began they Placebo domino, with the verses that to longerv
which if I should say were me too long. When this vigil was
done and the commendation^ she was laid in the pit, and there
upon her was laid a marble stone polished as clear as any glass,
and thereon was hewen in great letters in this wise : COPPE CHAN-

TEKLERS DOUGHTER, WHOM REYNART THE FOX HATH BYTEN, LYETH
HIER VNDER BURYED, COMPLAYNE YE HER FFOR, SHE IS SHAME-
FULLY COMEN TO HER DETH.

After this, the King sent for his lords and the wisest of his
council for to take advice how this great murder and trespass
should be punished on Reynart the Fox. There was concluded

1 Forslongen. (verschlungen)* swallowed.

2 Abye, pay for. 3 To iongen, belong thereto.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 5!

and appointed for the best that Reynart should be sent for, and
that he left not for any cause, but he came into the King's court
for to hear what should be said to him ; and that Bruin the Bear
should do the message.

The King thought that all this was good and said to Bruin the
Bear, "Sir Bruin, I will that ye do this message; but see well
to for yourself, for Reynart is a shrew, and fell,1 and knoweth so
many wiles that he shall lie and flatter, and shall think how he
may beguile, deceive, and bring you to some mockery."

Then said Bruin, " What, good lord, let it alone ! Deceiveth
me the Fox, so have I ill learned my casus. I trow he shall come
too late to mock me." Thus departed Bruin merrily from thence,
but it is to dread that he came not so merrily again.

CHAPTER VII.
How Bruin the Bear was sped of Reynart the Fox.

Now is Bruin gone on his way toward the Fox with a stout
mood, which supposed well that the Fox should not have beguiled
him. As he came in a dark wood in a forest whereas Reynart
had a bypath when he was hunted, there beside was an high moun-
tain and land, and there must Bruin in the middle goon over for
to go to Maleperduys. For Reynart had many a dwelling-place,
but the Castle of Maleperduys was the best and the fastest burgh
that he had. There lay he in when he had need, and was in any
dread or fear. Now when Bruin was comen to Maleperduys, he
found the gate fast shut. Tho went he tofore the gate, and sat
upon his tail, and called, " Reynart, be ye at home ? I am
Browning. The King hath sent me for you that you should
come to Court, for to plead your cause. He hath sworn there by
his God, come ye not, or bring I you not with me, for to abide
such right and sentence as shall be there given, it shall cost you
your life. He will hang you or set you on the rack. Reynart,
do by my counsel, and come to the Court"

i Fell, cruel.

$2 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

Reynart lay within the gate, as he oft was wont to do, for the
warmth of the sun. When Reynart heard Bruin, tho went he
inward into his hole. For Maleperduys was full of holes, here
one hole and there another, and yonder another, narrow, crooked
and long, with many ways to go out, which he opened and shut
after that he had need. When he had any prey brought home,
or that he wist that any sought him for his misdeeds and tres-
passes, then he ran and hid him from his enemies into his secret
chambers, that they could not find him ; by which he deceived
many a beast that sought him. And tho thought Reynard in
himself how he might best bring the Bear in charge and need,
and that he abode in worship.

In this thought Reynart came out, and said, " Bruin, Erne, ye
be welcome ! I heard you well tofore, but I was in mine even-
song, therefore have I the longer tarried a little. Dear Erne, he
hath done to you no good service, and I con him no thank,1 that
hath sent you over this long hill ; for I see that ye be also weary,
that the sweat runneth down by your cheeks. It was no need :
I had nevertheless comen to Court to-morrow : but I sorrow now
the less, for your wise counsel shall well help me in the Court.
And could the King find none less messenger but you for to send
hither? That is great wonder. For next the King ye be the
most gentle, and richest of levies and of land. I would well that
we were now at the Court, but I fear me that I shall not con
well go thither, for I have eaten so much new meat that me
thinketh my belly will break or cleave asunder, and because the
meat was new I ate the more."

Tho spake the Bear, " Lief Neve,2 what meat have ye eaten that
maked you so full ? "

" Dear Erne, that I ate, what might it help you that if I told
you? I ate but simple meat. A poor man is no lord, that may
ye know, Erne, by me. We poor folk must eat ofttimes such as
we gladly would not eat if we had better. They were great honey-

1 Con him no thank. To can or con thank was an old phrase for acknowledg-
ment of thanks due.

2 Lief neve, dear nephew.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. $3

combs ; which I must needs eat for hunger. They have made
my belly so great that I can nowhere endure."

Bruin then spake anon, " Alas, Reynart, what say ye ! Set ye
so little by honey ? Me ought to prize and love it above all meat.
Lief Reynart, help me that I might get a deal of this honey, and
as long as I live I shall be to you a true friend, and abide by
you, as far as ye help me that I may have a part of this honey."

CHAPTER VIII.
How Bruin ate the honey.

BRUIN, Erne, I had supposed that ye had japed1 therewith."

" So help me God, Reynart, nay. I should not gladly jape
with you."

Then spake the red Reynart, " Is it then earnest, that ye love
so well the honey ? I shall do let you have so much that ten of
you should not eat it at one meal, might I get therewith your
friendship."

" Not we ten, Reynart Neve ! " said the Bear. " How should
that be ? Had I all the honey that is between this and Portugal
I should well eat it alone."

Reynart said, " What say ye, Erne ? Hereby dwelleth an hus-
bandman named Lantfert, which hath so much honey that ye
should not eat in seven years ; which ye shall have in your hold
if ye will be to me friendly and helping against mine enemies in
the King's Court."

Then promised Bruin the Bear to him, that if he might have his
belly full he would truly be to him tofore all other a faithful friend.

Hereof laughed Reynart the shrew,2 and said, "If ye would have
seven hamper barrels full I shall well get them and help you to
have them." These words pleased the Bear so well, and made
him so much to laugh that he could not well stand.

Tho thought Reynart, " This is good luck ; I shall lead him
thither that he shall laugh by measure."

1 Japed, jested. 2 Shrew, malicious deceiver.

$4 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

Reynart said then, " This matter may not be long tarried. I
must pain myself for you. Ye shall well understand the very
yonste l and good will that I bear to you ward. I know none in
all my lineage that I now would labour for thus sore."

That thanked him the Bear and thought he tarried long.

" Now, Erne, let us go a good pace, and follow ye me. I shall
make you to have as much honey as ye may bear." The Fox
meant, of good strokes ; but the caitiff marked not what the Fox
meant; and they went so long together, that they came unto
Lantfert's yard. Tho was sir Bruin merry.

Now hark of Lantfert. Is it true that men say, so was Lantfert
a strong carpenter of great timber, and had brought that other
day tofore into his yard a great oak, which he had begun to
cleave. And as men be woned 2 he had smitten two betels 3
therein one after that other, in such wise the oak was wide open.
Whereof Reynart was glad, for he had found it right as he wished,
and said to the Bear all laughing, " See now well sharply to ! In
this tree is so much honey that it is without measure. Assay if
ye can come therein, and eat but little, for though the honey-
combs be sweet and good, yet beware that ye eat not too many,
but take of them by measure, that ye catch no harm in your body ;
for, sweet Erne, I should be blamed if they did you any harm."

" What, Reynart, cousin, sorrow ye not for me ! Ween ye that
I were a fool ? "

"Measure is good in all meat," Reynart said. "Ye say
truth. Wherefore should I sorrow? Go to the end and creep
therein."

Bruin the Bear hasted sore toward the honey, and trode in
with his two foremost feet, and put his head over his ears into
the clift of the tree. And Reynart sprang lightly and brake out
the betle of the tree. Tho helped the Bear neither flattering ne
chiding; he was fast shut in the tree. Thus hath the Neve,
with deceit, brought his Erne in prison in the tree, in such wise
as he could not get out with might ne with craft, head ne foot.

1 Yonste (gunst), favour. 2 Waned, accustomed

3 Betels, heavy mallets used for beating in wedges, &c.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 55

What profiteth Bruin the Bear that he strong and hardy is ?
That may not help him. He saw well that he was beguiled. He
began to howl, and to bray, and crutched with the hinder feet,
and made such a noise and rumour, that Lantfert came out
hastily, and knew nothing what this might be, and brought in
his hand a sharp hook. Bruin the Bear lay in the clift of the
tree, in great fear and dread, and held fast his head, and nipped
both his fore feet. He wrang, he wrestled, and cried, and all was
for naught. He wist not how he might get out.

Reynart the Fox saw from far how that Lantfert the carpenter
came, and tho spake Reynart to the Bear, " Is that honey good ?
How is it now ? Eat not too much, it should do you harm ; ye
should riot then well con go to the Court. When Lantfert
cometh, if ye have well eaten he shall give you better to drink,
and then it shall not stick in your throat."

After these words tho turned him Reynart toward his castle,
and Lantfert came and found the Bear fast taken in the tree.
Then ran he fast to his neighbours and said " Come all in to my
yard, there is a bear taken ! " The word anon sprang over all in
the thorp. There ne bleef l neither man ne wife, but all ran thither
as fast as they could, every one with his weapon, some with a staff,
some with a rake, some with a broom, some with a stake of
the hedge, and some with a flail ; and the priest of the church
had the staff of the cross, and the clerk brought a vane. The
priest's wife Julocke came with her distaff, — she sat tho and span,
— there came old women that for age had not one tooth in their
head.

Now was Bruin the Bear nigh much sorrow that he alone
must stand against them all When he heard all this great noise
and cry he wrestled and plucked so hard and so sore that he
gat out his head. But he left behind all the skin and both his
ears, in such wise that never man saw fouler ne leather beast, for
the blood ran over his eyes. And or he could get out his feet
he must lete 2 there his claws or nails and this rough hand. This
market came to him evil, for he supposed never to have gone, his

1 Bleef (blieb), remained. 2 Lete, leave.

56 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

feet were so sore, and he might not see for the blood which ran
so over his eyes.

Lantfert came to him with the priest, and forthwith all the
parish, and began to smite and strike sore upon his head and
visage. He received there many a sore stroke. Every man
beware hereby : who hath harm and scathe, every man will be
thereat and put more to. That was well seen on the Bear, for
they were all fierce and wroth on the Bear, great and small, yea
Hughelyn with the crooked leg, and Ludolf with the broad long
nose, they were both wroth. That one had a leaden malle, and
that other a great leaden wapper, therewith they wappred and all
forslingred l him, Sir Bertolt with the long fingers, Lantfert, and
Ottram the long. This did to the Bear more harm than all the
other, that one had a sharp hook and the other a crooked staff
well leaded on the end for to play at the ball. Baetkyn and
Aue, Abelquak, my dame Baue, and the priest with his staff, and
dame Julocke his wife, these wroughten to the Bear so much harm
that they would fain have brought him from his life to death,
they smote and stack him all that they could.

Bruin the Bear sat and sighed and groaned, and must take
such as was given to him. But Lantfert was the worthiest of
birth of them all, and made most noise; for dame Pogge of
Chafporte was his mother, and his father was Macob the stoppel-
maker, a much stout man. There as he was alone Bruin received
of them many a cast of stones. Tofore them all sprang first
Lantfert's brother with a staff, and smote the Bear on the head
that he ne heard ne saw; and therewith the Bear sprang up
between the bush and the river among a heap of wives, that he
threw a deal of them in the river, which was wide and deep.

There was the parson's wife one of them, wherefore he was
full of sorrow when he saw his wife lie in the water. He lusted
no longer to smite the Bear, but called, " Dame Julocke in the
water! Now every man see to, All they that may help her!

1 Wappered and fors lingered, beat at and overwhelmed with blows. The Low
German slingen, to swallow, is to be distinguished from Low German, slingern,
the word here.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 57

Be they men or women, I give to them all pardon of their pen-
ance, and release all their sins ! " All they then left Bruin the
Bear lie, and did that the priest bade.

When Bruin the Bear saw that they ran all from him, and ran
to save the women, tho sprang he into the water and swam all
that he could. Then made the priest a great shout and noise,
and ran after the Bear with great anger, and said, " Come and
turn again, thou false thief!" The Bear swam after the best of
the stream and let them call and cry, for he was glad that he was
so escaped from them. He cursed and banned the honey tree,
and the Fox also that had so betrayed him that he had crept
therein so deep that he lost both his hood and his ears. And so
forth he drove in the stream well a two or three mile. Tho wax
he so weary that he went to land for to sit and rest him, for he
was heavy ; he groaned and sighed, and the blood leapt over his
eyes, he drew his breath like as one should have died.

Now hark how the Fox did. » Ere he came from Lantfert's
house he had stolen a fat hen and had laid her in his male, and
ran hastily away by a bye path where he weened that no man
should have comen. He ran toward the river, that he sweat, he
was so glad that he wist not what to do for joy, for he hoped
that the Bear had been dead. He said, "I have now well
sped, for he that should most have hindered me in the Court
is now dead, and none shall wite l me thereof, may I not, then,
by right be well glad ? " With these words the Fox looked to the
riverward, and espied where Bruin the Bear lay and rested him.
Tho was the Fox sorrier and heavier than tofore was merry, and
•was as angry, and said in chiding to Lantfert, "Alas, Lantfert,
lewd fool ! God give him a shames death that hath lost such
good venison, which is good and fat, and hath let him go which
was taken to his hand ! Many a man would gladly have eaten of
him. He hath lost a rich and fat Bear." Thus all chiding he
came to the river, where he found the Bear sore wounded, bebled,
and right sick, which he might thank none better thereof than
Reynart, which he spake to the Bear in scorn :

1 Wife, blame.

58 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

" Chiere priest™, Dieu vous garde / Will ye see the red
thief?"

Said the Bear to himself, "The ribaud and the fell deer,1 here
I see him coming."

Then said the Fox, *' Have ye aught forgotten at Lantfert's ?
Have ye also paid him for the honeycombs that ye stole from
him ? If ye have not, it were a great shame, and not honest ;
I will rather be the messenger myself for to go and pay him.
Was the honey not good ? I know yet more of the same prize.
Dear Erne, tell me ere I go hence into what order will ye go that
wear this new hood ? Were ye a monk or an abbot ? He that
shaved your crown hath nipped off your ears, ye have lost your
top and don off your gloves, I trow verily that ye will go sing
compline."

All this heard Bruin the Bear, and waxed all angry, and sorry
for he might not avenge him. He let the Fox say his will, and
with great pain suffered it, and start again in the river, and swam
down with the stream to that other side.

Now must he sorrow how that he should come to the Court, for
he had lost his ears and the skin with the claws of his forefeet ;
for though a man should have slain him he could not go ; and
yet he must needs forth, but he wist not how.

Now hear how he did. He sat upon his hams and began to
rustle over his tail ; and when he was so weary, he wentled 2 and
tumbled nigh half a mile ; this did he with great pain so long till
at last he came to the Court. And when he was seen so com-
ing from far, some doubted what it might be that came so
wenteling.

The King at last knew him, and was not well paid,3 and said,
"This is Bruin the Bear, my friend! Lord God, who hath
wounded him thus ? He is passing red on his head : me
thinketh he is hurt unto the death. Where may he have been ? "

Therewith is the Bear came tofore the king, and said :

1 Deer, wild beast.

2 Wentled, twisted, wriggled round and round. There is a mollusc called for
its spiral ' ' wentle-trap " from G. wendel-treppe, a winding staircase.

3 Paid, satisfied.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 59

CHAPTER IX.

The complaint of the Bear upon the Fox.

" I COMPLAIN to you, merciful lord, sir King, so as ye may see
how that I am handled, praying you to avenge it upon Reynart
the fell beast ; for I have gotten this in your service. I have lost
both my foremost feet, my cheeks, and mine ears, by his false
deceit and treason."

The King said, " How durst this false thief Reynart do this ? I
say to you, Bruin, and swear by my crown, I shall so avenge you
on him that ye shall con me thank ! "

He sent for all the wise beasts and desired counsel how that
he might avenge this over-great wrong that the Fox had done.
Then the council concluded, old and young, that he should be
sent for, and dayed J earnestly again, for to abide such judgment
as should there be given on him of all his trespasses. And they
thought that the cat Tybert might best do this message if he
would, for he is right wise. The King thought this counsel
good.

CHAPTER X.

How the King sent another time Tybert the Cat for the Fox, and
how Tybert sped with Reynart the Fox.

THEN the King said, (i Sir Tybert, ye shall now go to Reynart
and say to him this second time, that he come to Court unto the
plea for to answer; for though he be fell to other beasts, he
trusteth you well and shall do by your counsel. And tell him if
he come not he shall have the third warning and be dayed, and
if he then come not, we shall proceed by right against him and
all his lineage without mercy.

Tybert spake, " My lord the King, they that this counselled
you were not my friends. What shall I do there? He will not,
for me neither, come ne abide. I beseech you, dear King, send

1 Dayed, cited for an appointed day.

60 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

some other to him. I am little and feeble. Bruin the Bear, which
was so great and strong, could not bring him. How should I
then take it on hand ? "

"Nay," said the King, "Sir Tybert, ye ben wise and well
learned. Though ye be not great, there lieth not on. Many do
more with craft and cunning than with might and strength."

Then said the Cat, " Sith it must needs be done, I must then
take it upon me. God give grace that I may well achieve it, for
my heart is heavy, and evil willed thereto."

Tybert made him soon ready toward Maleperduys. And he
saw from far come flying one of Saint Martin's birds, tho
cried he loud and said, "All hail, gentle bird, turn thy wings
hitherward, and fly on my right side." The bird flew forth upon
a tree which stood on the left side of the Cat. Tho was Tybert
woe ; for he thought it was a shrewd token and a sign of harm.
For if the bird had flown on his right side he had been merry
and glad, but now he sorrowed that his journey should turn to
unhappe. Nevertheless he did as many do, and gave to himself
better hope than his heart said. He went and ran to Maleper-
duys ward, and there he found the Fox alone standing tofore his
house.

Tybert said, "The rich God give you good even, Reynart.
The King hath menaced you for to take your life from you if ye
come not now with me to the court."

The Fox tho spake and said, " Tybert, my dear cousin, ye be
right welcome. I would well truly that ye had much good luck."
What hurted the Fox to speak fair. Though he said well, his heart
thought it not, and that shall be seen ere they depart.

Reynart said, " Will we this night be together. I will make
you good cheer, and to-morrow early in the dawning we will
together go to the Court. Good Nephew, let us so do, I have
none of my kin that I trust so much to as to you. Here was
Bruin the Bear, — the traitor! He looked so shrewdly on me,
and methought he was so strong, that I would not for a
thousand mark have gone with him; but, cousin, I will to-
morrow early go with you."

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 61

Tybert said, " It is best that we now go, for the moon shineth
all so light as it were day ; I never saw fairer weather."

" Nay, dear cousin, such might meet us by day-time that would
make us good cheer and by night peradventure might do us harm.
It is suspicious to walk by night. Therefore abide this night here
by me."

Tybert said, " What should we eat if we abode here ? "

Reynart said, " Here is but little to eat. Ye may well have
an honeycomb, good and sweet. What say ye, Tybert, will ye
any thereof?"

Tybert answered, "I set nought thereby. Have ye nothing
else? If ye gave me a good fat mouse I should be better
pleased."

"A fat mouse!" said Reynart. "Dear cousin, what say ye?
Hereby dwelleth a priest and hath a barn by his house ; therein
ben so many mice that a man should not lead them away upon a
wain. I have heard the priest many times complain that they
did him much harm."

" Oh, dear Reynart, lead me thither for all that I may do for
you ! "

" Yea, Tybert, say ye me truth ? Love ye well mice ? "

" If I love them well ? " said the Cat. " I love mice better
than anything that men give me. Know ye not that mice savour
better than venison, yea, than flawnes l or pasties ? Will ye well
do, so lead me thither where the mice ben, and then shall ye
win my love, yea all had ye slain my father, mother, and all my
kin."

Reynart said, "Ye mock and jape therewith."

The Cat said, "So help me God, I do not ! "

" Tybert," said the Fox, " wist I that verily, I would yet this
night make that ye should be full of mice."

" Reynart ! " quoth he, " Full ? That were many."
. " Tybert, ye jape ! "

"Reynart," quoth he, "in truth I do not. If I had a fat
mouse I would not give it for a golden noble."

1 Flawns, custard tarts. . •

62 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

" Let us go, then, Tybert," quoth the Fox, " I will bring you to
the place ere I go from you."

" Reynart," quoth the Cat, " upon your safe-conduct, I would
well go with you to Monpelier."

"Let us then go," said the Fox, "we tarry all too long.''

Thus went they forth, without letting * to the place whereas they
would be, to the Priest's barn, which was fast walled about with a
mud wall. And the night tofore the Fox had broken inj and
had stolen from the Priest a good fat hen ; and the Priest, all
angry, had set a gryn 2 tofore the hole to avenge him ; for he would
fain have taken the Fox. This knew well the fell thief, the Fox,
and said, " Sir Tybert, cousin, creep into this hole, and ye shall
not long tarry but that ye shall catch mice by great heaps. Hark
how they pipe ! When ye be full, come again ; I will tarry here
after you before this hole. We will to-morrow go together to the
Court. Tybert, why tarry ye thus long ? Come off, and so may
we return soon to my wife which waiteth after us, and shall make
us good cheer."

Tybert said, " Reynart, cousin, is it then your counsel that I
go into this hole? These Priests ben so wily and shrewish I
dread to take harm."

" Oh ho, Tybert ! " said the Fox, " I saw you never so sore
afraid. What aileth you ? "

The Cat was ashamed, and sprang into the hole. And anori
he was caught in the gryn by the neck, ere he wist. Thus de*
ceived Reynart his guest and cousin.

As Tybert was ware of the gryn, he was afraid and sprang
forth ; the gryn went to. Then he began to wrawen, for he
was almost y-strangled, He called, he cried, arid made a shrewd
noise.

Reynart stood before the hole and heard all, and was well
paid, and said, " Tybert, love ye well mice ? Be they fat and
good? Knew the Priest hereof, or Mertynet, they be so gentle
that they would bring you sauce. Tybert, ye sing and eat, is

1 Letting, hindrance.

* Gryn, snare or trap. A word used by Chaucer.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 63

that the guise of the Court? Lord God> if Isegrim were there
by you, in such rest as ye now be, then should I be glad ; for
oft he hath done me scathe and harm."

Tybert could not go away, but he mawed and galped so loud,
that Mertynet sprang up, and cried loud, " God be thanked, my
gryn hath taken the thief that hath stolen our hens. Arise up,
we will reward him ! "

With these words arose the Priest in an evil time, and waked
all them that were in the house, and cried with a loud voice,
" The Fox is taken ! "

There leapt and ran all that there was. The Priest himself ran,
all mother naked. Mertynet was the first that came to Tybert.
The Priest took to Locken his wife an offering candle, and bade
her light it at the fire, and he smote Tybert with a great staff.
There received Tybert many a great stroke over all his body.
Mertynet was so angry that he smote the Cat an eye out. The
naked Priest lift up and should have given a great stroke to
Tybert, but Tybert that saw that he must die sprang between the
Priest's legs with his claws and with his teeth. That leap be-
came ill to the Priest and to his great shame.

When Dame Julocke knew that, she sware by her father's soul,
that she would it had cost her all the offering of a whole year,
that the Priest had not had that harm, hurt, and shame, and that
it had not happened ; and said, " In the Devil's name was the
gryn there set ! See Mertynet, lief son, this is a great shame
and to me a great hurt ! " The Fox stood without, tofore the
hole, and heard all these words, and laughed so sore that he
vnnethe 1 could stand. Thus scorned and mocked the Fox the
Priest's wife, Dame Julocke, that was full of sorrow. The Priest
fell down aswoon. They took him up, and brought him again
to bed. Tho went the Fox again in to his burgh ward and left
Tibert the Cat in great dread and jeopardy, for the Fox wist
none other but that the Cat was nigh dead. But when Tibert
the Cat saw them all busy about the Priest, tho began he to bite
and gnaw the gryn in the middle asunder, and sprang out of

1 Unnethet not easily.

64 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

the hole, and went rolling and wentling towards the King's Court.
Ere he came thither it was fair day, and the sun began to rise.
And he came to the Court as a poor wight. He had caught harm
at the Priest's house by the help and counsel of the Fox. His
body was all tobeaten, and blind on the one eye. When the King
wist this, that Tibert was thus arrayed, he was sore angry, and
menaced Reynart the thief sore, and anon gathered his council
to wit what they would advise him, how he might bring the Fox
to the law, and how he should be fetched.

Tho spake Sir Grymbart, which was the Fox's sister son, and
said, " Ye lords, though my Erne were twice so bad and shrewish,
yet is there remedy enough. Let him be done to as to a free
man. When he shall be judged he must be warned the third
time for all ; and if he come not then, he is then guilty in all the
trespasses that ben laid against him and his, or complained on."

"Grymbart, who would ye that should go and daye him to
come ? Who will adventure for him his ears, his eye, or his life ;
which is so fell a beast? I trow there is none here so much a fool."

Grymbart spake, "So help me God, I am so much a fool that
I will do this message myself to Reynart, if ye will command me."

CHAPTER XI.

How Grymbart the Dasse brought the fox to the law tofore
the King.

" Now go forth, Grymbart, and see well tofore you. Reynart is
so fell and false, and so subtle, that ye need well to look about
you and to beware of him."

Grymbart said he should see well to.

Thus went Grymbart to Maleperduys ward, and when he came
thither he found Reynart the Fox at home, and Dame Ermelyn
his wife lay with her whelps in a dark corner.

Tho spake Grymbart and saluted his Erne and his Aunt, and
said to Reynart, " Erne, beware that your absence hurt you not
in such matters as be laid and complained on you ; but if ye

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 65

think it good, it is high time that ye come with me to the Court.
The withholding you from it can do you no good. There is
much thing complained over you, and this is the third warning ;
and I tell you for truth, if ye abide to-morrow all day, there may
no mercy help you. Ye shall see that within three days that your
house shall be besieged all about, and there shall be made tofore
it gallows and rack. I say you truly ye shall not then escape,
neither with wife ne with child, the King shall take all your lives
from you. Therefore it is best that ye go with me to the Court.
Your subtle wise counsel shall peradventure avail you. There
ben greater adventures falle, ere this ; for it may hap ye shall go
quit of all the complaints that ben complained on you, and all
your enemies shall abide in the shame. Ye have ofttimes done
more and greater things than this."

Reynart the Fox answered, " Ye say sooth. I trow it is best
that I go with you, for there lacketh my counsel. Peradventure
the King shall be merciful to me if I may come to speak with
him, and see him under his eyen. Though I had done much more
harm, the Court may not stand without me ; that shall the King
well understand. Though some be so fell to me ward, yet it
goeth not to the heart. All the council shall conclude much by
me. Where great Courts ben gathered, of kings or of great lords,
whereas needeth subtle counsel, there must Reynart find the subtle
means. They may well speak and say their advice, but tho mine
is best, and that goeth tofore all other. In the Court ben many
that have sworn to do me the worst they can, and that causeth
me a part to be heavy in my heart, for many may do more than
one alone that shall hurt me. Nevertheless, nephew, it is better
I go with you to the Court and answer for myself, than to set me
my wife and my children in adventure for to be lost. Arise up,
let us go hence. He is over mighty for me. I must do as he
will. I cannot better it ; I shall take it patiently and suffer it."

Reynart said to his wife Dame Ermelyn, " I betake you my
children, that ye see well to them and specially to Reynkin, my
youngest son. He beliketh me so well I hope he shall follow my
steps. And there is Rossel a passing fair thief, I love them as well

E

66 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

as any may love his children. If God give me grace that I may
escape, I shall, when I come again, thank you with fair words."
Thus took Reynart leave of his wife.

Ah, gods ! how sorrowful abode Ermelyn with her small whelps,
for the victualler and he that sorrowed l for Maleperduys was gone
his way, and the house not purveyed nor victualled.

CHAPTER XII.

How Reynart shrove him.

WHEN Reynart and Grymbart had gone a while together, tho said
Reynart, " Dear Cousin, now am I in great fear, for I go in dread
and jeopardy of my life. I have so much repentance for my sins
that I will shrive me, dear Cousin, to you ; here is none other
priest to get. If I were shriven of my sins my soul should be the
clearer."

Grymbart answered, " Erne, will ye shrive you, then must ye
promise first to leave your stealing and roving."

Reynart said, that wist he well. "Now hark, dear Cousin,
what I shall say. Confiteor tibi, pater, of all the misdeeds that I
have done, and gladly will receive penance for them."

Grymbart said, " What say ye, will ye shrive you ? Then say
it in English, that I may understand you."

Reynart said, "I have trespassed against all the beasts that
live ; in especial against Bruin the Bear, mine Erne, whom I made
his crown all bloody ; and taught Tybert the Cat to catch mice,
for I made her leap in a grynne where she was all to-beaten ; also
I have trespassed greatly against Chanticleer with his children, for
I have made him quit of a great deal of them. The King is not
gone all quit, I have slandered him and the Queen many times,
that they shall never be clear thereof. Yet have I beguiled
Isegrim the Wolf, oftener than I can tell well. I called him
Erne, but that was to deceive him ; he is nothing of my kin. I
made him a monk at Eelmare, where I myself also became one ;
1 Sorrowed, took care (sorge).

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 67

and that was to his hurt and no profit. I made bind his feet to
the bell rope, the ringing of the bell thought him so good that he
would learn to ring ; whereof he had shame, for he rang so sore
that all the folk in the street were afraid thereof and marvelled
what might be on the bell, and ran thither tofore he had comen
to axe the religion, wherefore he was beaten almost to the death.
After this I taught him to catch fish, where he received many a
stroke ; also I led him to the richest priest's house that was in
Vermedos, this priest had a spynde wherein hung many a good
flitch of bacon wherein many a time I was wont to fill my belly ;
in this spynde I had made an hole in which I made Isegrim to
creep. There found he tubs with beef and many good flitches of
bacon, whereof he ate so much without measure that he might
not come out at the hole where he went in ; his belly was so great
and full of the meat, and when he entered his belly was small ; I
went in to the village and made there a great shout and noise ; yet
hark what I did then, I ran to the priest where he sat at the table
and ate, and had tofore him as fat capon as a man might find :
that capon caught I, and ran my way therewith all that I might.
The priest cried out, and said, * Take and slay the Fox ! I trow
that man never saw more wonder. The Fox cometh in my house
and taketh my capon from my table: where saw ever man an
hardier thief ! ' and as me thought he took his table knife and
cast it at me, but he touched me not. I ran away, he shoved the
table from him and followed me crying ' Kill and slay him ! ' I
too go, and they after, and many moo came after, which all
thought to hurt me.

" I ran so long that I came whereas Isegrim was, and there I
let fall the capon, for it was too heavy for me, and against my will
I left it there, and then I sprang through a hole whereas I would
be. And as the priest took up the capon, he espied Isegrim
and cried, * Smite down here, friends, here is the thief, the Wolf!
See well to, that he escape us not ! ' They ran all together with
stocks and staves, and made a great noise, that all the neighbours
camen out, and gave him many a shrewd stroke, and threw at
him great stones, in such wise that he fell down as he had been

68 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

dead. They slipped him and drew him over stones and over
blocks without the village and threw him into a ditch, and there
he lay all the night. I wot never how he came thence, sith I have
goten of him, for as much as I made him to fill his belly, that he
sware he would be mine help a whole year.

'•' Tho led I him to a place where I told him there were seven
hens and a cock which sat on a perch and were much fat And
there stood a fall-door by, and we climbed thereup. I said to him
if he would believe me, and that he would creep into the door,
he should find many fat hens. Isegrim went all laughing to the
doorward, and crept a little in, and tasted here and there, and at
last he said to me, ' Reynart, ye bord and jape with me, for what
I seek I find not.' Then said I, ' Erne, if ye will find, creep
further in. He that will win, he must labour and adventure.
They that were wont to sit there, I have them away.' Thus I
made him to seek further in, and shoved him forth so far, that he
fell down upon the floor, for the perch was narrow. And he fell
so great a fall, that they sprang up all that slept, and they that
next the fire cryden that the fall-door was open and something
was falle, and they wist not what it might be. They rose up
and light a candle, and when they saw him, they smiten, beaten,
and wounded him to the death. I have brought him thus in
many a jeopardy, more than I can now reckon. I should find
many more, if I me well bethought, which I shall tell you here-
after. Also I have bedriuen 1 with dame Ersewynde his wife. I
would I had not done it. I am sorry for it. It is to her great
shame, and that me repenteth."

Grymbart said, " Erne, I understand you not."

He said, " I have trespassed with his wife."

"Ye shrive you, as though ye held somewhat behind. I
wot not what ye mean, ne where ye have learned this lan-
guage."

" Ach, Dear Neve, it were great shame if I should say it openly
as it happened. I have lain by mine aunt, I am your Erne, I
should anger you if I spake villainy of women. Nephew, now

1 Bedriven, had experience (Dutch, bedreven ; German, betrieben).

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 69

have I told you all that I can think on. Set me penance, and
assoil me, for I have great repentance."

Grymbart was subtle and wise. He broke a rod off a tree
and said, " Erne, now shall ye smite yourself thrice with this rod
on your body, and then lay it down upon the ground, and spring
three times thereover, without bowing of your legs and without
stumbling, and then shall ye take it up and kiss it friendly in
token of meekness and obedience of your penance that I gave
you. Herewith be ye quit of all sins that ye have done to this
day, for I forgive it you all."

The Fox was glad.

Tho said Grymbart to his Erne, " Erne, see now forthon that
ye do good works : read your psalms, go to church, fast, and
keep your holydays, and give your alms ; and leave your sinful
and ill life, your theft, and your treason, and so may ye come
to mercy."

The Fox promised that he would so do, and then went they
both together to the Court ward.

A little beside the way as they went stood a cloister of black
nuns, where many geese, hens and capons went without the
walls ; and as they went talking the Fox brought Grymbart out
of the right way thither, and without the walls by the barn
went the polaylle. The Fox espied them, and saw a fat
young capon which went alone from his fellows, and leapt, and
caught him that the feathers flew about his ears, but the capon
escaped.

Grymbart said, " What, Erne, cursed man, what will ye do !
Will ye for one of these pullets fall again in all your sins of
which ye have shriven you ? Ye ought sore repent you."

Reynart answered, "Truly, cousin, I had all forgotten. Pray
God that he forgive it me, for I will never do so more."

Then turned they again over a little bridge, yet the Fox alway
looked after the polaylle; he could not refrain himself; that
which clevid by the bone might not out of the flesh : though he
should be hanged he could not let the looking after the polaylle
as far as he might see them.

70 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

Grymbart saw his manner, and said, " Foul false deceiver, how
go your eyen so after the polaylle ! "

The Fox said, "Cousin, ye misdo to say to me any such
words. Ye bring me out of my devotion and prayers. Let me
say a pater noster for all the souls of polaylle and geese that I have
betrayed, and oft with falsehood stolen from these holy nuns.';

Grymbart was not well apaid, but the Fox had ever his eyen
toward the polaylle l till at last they came in the way again, and
then turned they to the Courtward. How sore quaked tho
Reynart when they approached the Court 1 For he wist well
that he had for to answer to many a foul feat and theft that he
had done.

CHAPTER XIII.

How the Fox came to the Court, and how he excused him tofore
the King.

AT the first when it was known in the Court that Reynart the
Fox and Grymbart his cousin were comen to the Court, there
was none so poor nor so feeble of kin and friends but that he
made him ready for to complain on Reynart the Fox.

Reynart looked as he had not been afraid, and held him better
than he was, for he went forth proudly with his nephew through
the highest street of the Court, right as he had been the King's
son, and as he had not trespassed to any man the value of an
hair : and went in the middle of the place standing tofore Noble
the King and said — •

" God give you great honour and worship. There was never
King that ever had a truer servant than I have been to your good
grace, and yet am. Nevertheless, dear lord, I know well that
there ben many in this Court that would destroy me if ye would
believe them ; but nay, God thank you, it is not fitting to your
crown to believe these false deceivers and liars lightly. To God
mote it be complained how that these false liars and flatterers now-
adays in the lord's Courts ben most heard and believed, the

1 Polaille, poultry.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 71

shrews and false deceivers ben borne up for to do to good men
all the harm and scathe they may. Our Lord God shall once
reward them their hire."

The King said, " Peace, Reynart, false thief and traitor ! How
well can ye bring forth fair tales ! And all shall not help you a
straw. Ween ye with such flattering words to be my friend, ye
have so oft served me so as ye now shall well know. The peace
that I have commanded and sworn, that have ye well holden,
have ye ? "

Chanticleer could no longer be still, but cried, "Alas, what
have I by this peace lost ! "

"Be still, Chanticleer, hold your mouth. Let me answer
this foul thief. Thou shrewd fell thief," said the King, " thou
sayest that thou lovest me well : that hast thou showed well on
my messengers, these poor fellows, Tibert the Cat and Bruin the
Bear, which yet ben all bloody; which chide not ne say not
much, but that shall this day cost thee thy life. In nomine Patris
el Christi filii."

Said the Fox, " Dear lord and mighty King, if Bruin's crown
be bloody what is that to me ? When he ate honey at Lantfert's
house in the village and did him hurt and scathe, there was he
beaten therefor ; if he had willed, he is so strong of limbs, he
might well have be avenged ere he sprang into the water. Tho
came Tybert the Cat, whom I received friendly. If he went out
without my counsel for to steal mice to a priest's house, and the
priest did him harm, should I abye that, then might I say I were
not happy. Not so, my liege lord. Ye may do what ye will,
though my matter be clear and good ; ye may siede * me, or roast,
hang, or make me blind. I may not escape you. We stand all
under your correction. Ye be mighty and strong. I am feeble,
and my help is but small. If ye put me to the death it were a
small vengeance."

Whiles they thus spake, up sprang Bellyn the Ram and his ewe
Dame Olewey, and said, " My lord the King, hear our com-
plaint." Bruin the Bear stood up with all his lineage and his

1 Siede, seethe, boil.

72 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

fellows. Tybert the Cat, Isegrim the Wolf, Cuwart the Hare,
and Panther ; the Boar, the Camel, and Brunei the Goose ; the
Kid and Goat ; Boudewyn the Ass, Borre the Bull, Hamel the
Ox, and the Weasel ; Chanticleer the Cock, Pertelot with all their
children, all these made great rumour and noise, and came forth
openly tofore their lord the King, and made that the Fox was
taken and arrested.

CHAPTER XIV.

How the Fox was arrested and judged io death.

HEREUPON was a Parliament; and they desired that Reynart
should ben dead. And whatsomever they said against the Fox
he answered to each to them. Never heard man of such beasts
such plaints of wise counsel and subtle inventions. And on that
other side, the Fox made his excuse so well and formably thereon,
that they that heard it wondered thereof. They that heard and
saw it may tell it forth for truth ; I shall short the matter and tell
you forth of the Fox. The King and the Council heard the wit-
nesses of the complaints of Reynart's misdeeds. It went with
them as it oft does, the feeblest hath the worst. They gave sen-
tence, and judged that the Fox should be dead and hanged by
the neck. Tho list not he to play. All his flattering words and
deceits could not help him. The judgment was given, and that
must be done. Grymbart, his nephew, and many of his lineage
might not find in their hearts to see him die, but took leave sorrow-
fully, and roomed the court.1

The King bethought him, and marked how many a youngling
departed from thence all weeping, which were nigh of his kin,
and said to himself, " Here behoveth other counsel hereto ; though
Reynart be a shrew, there be many good of his lineage."

Tybert the Cat said, " Sir Bruin and Sir Isegrim, how be ye
thus slow? It is almost even. Here ben many bushes and
hedges. If he escaped from us and were delivered out of this
peril, he is so subtle, and so wily, and can so many deceits, that

1 Roomed, vacated (raumen).

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 73

he should never be taken again. Shall we hang him ? How
stand ye all thus ? Ere the gallows can be made ready it shall
be night."

Isegrim bethought him tho, and said, " Hereby is a gibbet or
gallows." And with that word he sighed.

And the Cat espied that, and said, "Isegrim, ye be afraid.
Is it against your will ? Think ye not that he himself went and
laboured that both your brethren were hanged ? Were ye good
and wise, ye should thank him, and ye should not therewith so
long tarry."

CHAPTER XV.

How the Pox was led to the gallows.

ISEGRIM balked J and said, " Ye make much ado, Sir Tybert ; had
we an halter which were meet for his neck and strong enough,
we should soon make an end."

Reynart the Fox, which long had not spoken, said to Isegrim,
" Short my pain. Tybert hath a strong cord which caught him
in the Priest's house. He can climb well, and is swift ; let him
bear up the line. Isegrim and Bruin, this becometh you well,
that ye thus do to your Nephew ! I am sorry that I live thus
long ; haste you, ye be set thereto j it is evil doo that ye tarry thus
long. Go tofore, Bruin, and lead me; Isegrim, follow fast, and
see well to, and be ware that Reynart go not away."

Tho said Bruin, " It is the best counsel that I ever yet heard,
that Reynart here saith."

Isegrim commanded anon and bad his kin and friends that
they should see to Reynart that he escaped not, for he is so wily
and false. They helden him by the feet, by the beard ; and so
kept him that he escaped not from them.

The Fox heard all these words, which touched him nigh, yet
spake he and said, " Oh, dear Erne, methinketh ye pain yourself
sore for to do me hurt and scathe. If I durst, I would pay you
of mercy, though my hurt and sorrow is pleasant to you. I wot

1 Balked, brayed (Dutch, balken ; vulg. , bolken).

74 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

well, if mine Aunt, your wife, bethought her well of old ferners,1
she would not suffer that I should have any harm ; but now I
am he that now ye will do on me what it shall please you. Ye
Bruin and Tybert, God give you shames death but ye do to me
your worst. I wot whereto I shall. I may die but once, I would
that I were dead already. I saw my father die, he had soon
done."

Isegrim said, " Let us go, for ye curse us because we lengthen
the time. Evil might we fare if we abide any longer."

He went forth with great envy on that one side, and Bruin
stood on the other side, and so led they him forth to the gal-
lows ward. Tybert ran with a good will tofore, and bare the
cord ; and his throat was yet sore of the grynne, and his croppe
did him woe of the stroke that he was take in ; that happened by
the counsel of the Fox, and that thought he now to quit.

Tybert Isegrim and Bruin went hastily with Reynart to the
place there as the felons ben wont to be put to death. Noble
the King and the Queen and all that were in the Court followed
after, for to see the end of Reynart. The Fox was in great dread
if him myshapped, and bethought him oft how he might save
him from the death ; and tho three that so sore desired his death,
how he might deceive them and bring them to shame ; and how
he might bring the King with leasings for to hold with him
against them. This was all that he studied, how he might put
away his sorrow with wiles, and thought thus: "Though the
King and many one be upon me angry, it is no wonder, for I
have well deserved it ; nevertheless, I hope for to be yet their
best friend. And yet shall I never do them good. How strong
that the King be, and how wise that his council be, if I may
brook 2 my words I know so many an invention, I shall come to
mine above 3 as far as they would comen to the gallows."

Tho said Isegrim, " Sir Bruin, think now on your red crown
which by Reynart's mean ye caught ; we have now the time that
we may well reward him. Tybert, clime up hastily and bind the

1 Old ferners, auld lang syne. 2 Brook, have use of (brauchen).

3 Come to mine above, rise in the world.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 75

cord fast to the lynde, and make a riding knot or a strope, ye be
the lightest ; ye shall this day see your will of him. Bruin, see
well to, that he escape not, and hold fast. I will help that the
ladder be set up, that he may go upward thereon."

Bruin said, " Do. I shall help him well."

The Fox said, "Now may my heart be well heavy for great
dread ; for I see the death tofore mine eyen, and I may not
escape. My lord the King, and dear Queen, and forth all ye
that here stand, ere I depart from this world I pray you of a
boone : that I may tofore you all make my confession openly,
and tell my defaults all so clearly that my soul may not be acunv
bred, and also that no man hereafter bear no blame for my
theft ne for my treason. My death shall be to me the easier, and
pray ye all to God that he have mercy on my soul."

CHAPTER XVI.

How the Fox made openly his confession tofore the King and tofore
all them that would hear it.

ALL they that stood there had pity when Reynart said tho words,
and said it was but a little request if the King would grant it
him, and they prayed the King to grant it him.

The King gave him leave.

Reynart was well glad, and hoped that it might fall better, and
said thus :

" Now help, Spiritus Domini, for I see here no man but I have
trespassed unto. Nevertheless yet was I, unto the time that I
was weaned from the teat, one of the best children that could
anywhere be found. I went tho and played with the lambs^
because I heard them gladly bleat. I was so long with them
that at the last I bit one ; there learned I first to lappeh of the
blood. It savoured well ; me thought it right good. And after
I began to taste of the flesh thereof, I was licorous ; so that
after that I went to the gate into the wood, there heard I the
kids bleat and I slew of them twain. I began to wax hardy

76 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

after. I slew hens, polaylle and geese wherever I found them.
Thus worden 1 my teeth all bloody. After this, I wex so fell and
so wroth that whatsomever I found that I might over, I slew all.
Thereafter came I by Isegrim, now in the winter, where he hid
him under a tree, and reckoned to me that he was mine erne.
When I heard him then reckon alliance, we became fellows,
which I may well repent. We promised each to other to be
true, and to use good fellowship, and began to wander together.
He stole the great things and I the small, and all was common
between us. Yet he made it so that he had the best deal 2 ; I got
not half my part. When that Isegrim gat a calf a ram or a
wether, then grimmed he, and was angry on me, and drove me
from him, and held my part and his too, so good is he. Yet
this was of the least. But when it so lucked that we took an
ox or a cow, then came thereto his wife with seven children;
so that unto me might vnnethe come one of the smallest ribs,
and yet, had they eaten all the flesh thereof, therewithall must
I be content ; not for that I had so great need, for I have so
great scatte3 and good of silver and of gold, that seven wains
should not can carry it away."

When the King heard him speak of this great good and riches,
he burned in the desire and covetyse thereof, and said, " Reynart,
where is the riches becomen? tell me that"

The Fox said, "My lord, I shall tell you. The riches was
stolen. And had it not be stolen, it should have cost you your life
and you should have been murdered, — which God forbid ! — and
should have been the greatest hurt in the world."

When the Queen heard that, she was sore afraid and cried
aloud, " Alas and weleaway ! Reynart, what say ye ? I conjure
you by the long way that your soul shall go, that ye tell us openly
the truth hereof, as much as ye know of this great murder that
should have be done on my lord, that we all may hear it ! " —

NOW hearken how the Fox shall flatter the King and Queen,
and shall win both their good will and loves, and shall hinder

1 Worden, became. 2 Deal, share, division.

* Scatte, treasure, money ; "shot" in the locker.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES.

77

them that labour for his death. He shall unbind his pack and
lie, and by flattery and fair words shall bring forth so his matters
that it shall be supposed for truth.

In a sorrowful countenance spake the Fox to the Queen, " I
am in such case now that I must needs die, and had ye me not
so sore conjured I will not jeopardise my soul, and if I so died I
should go therefor in to the pain of hell. I will say nothing but
that I will make it good, for piteously he should have been mur-
dered of his own folk. Nevertheless they that were most principal
in this feat were of my next kin, whom gladly I would not betray,
if the sorrow were not of the hell."

The King was heavy of heart, and said, " Reynart, sayest thou
to me the truth ? "

"Yes," said the Fox. "See ye not how it standeth with me?
Ween ye that I shall damn my soul ? What should it avail me if
I now said otherwise than truth ? My death is so nigh. There
may neither prayer ne good help me." Tho trembled the Fox, by
dissembling, as he had been afraid.

The Queen had pity on him, and prayed the King to have
mercy on him, in eschewing of more harm, and that he should
doo the people hold their peace, and give the Fox audience, and
hear what he should say.

Tho commanded the King openly that each of them should be
still, and suffer the Fox to say unberisped 1 what that he would.

Then said the Fox, " Be ye now all still, sith it is the King's
will, and I shall tell you openly this treason. And therein will I
spare no man that I know guilty."

CHAPTER XVII.

How the Fox brought them in danger that would have brought him
to death, and how he got the grace of the King.

Now hearken how the Fox began. In the beginning he appealed
Grymbart his dear Cousin, which ever had helped him in his need.

1 Unberisped, untroubled, unexcited (Dutch, rispen}.

78 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

He did so because his words should be the better believed ; and
that he forthon might the better lie on his enemies. Thus began
he first and said :

" My lord, my father had found King Ermeryk's treasure dolven
in a pit; and when he had this great good, he was so proud and
orguillous that he had all other beasts in despite which tofore had
been his fellows. He made Tybert the Cat to go into that wild
land of Ardenne to Bruin the Bear for to do him homage, and
bad him say, if he would be King that he should come in to
Flanders. Bruin the Bear was glad hereof, for he had long de-
sired it, and went forth in to Flanders ; where my father received
him right friendly. Anon he sent for the wise Grymbart, mine
nephew, and for Isegrim the Wolf, and for Tybert the Cat. Tho
these five came between Gaunt and the thorp called Yfte, there
they held their council an whole dark night long. What with
the devil's help and craft, and for my father's riches, they con-
cluded and swore there the King's death. Now hearken, and
hear this wonder. The four swore upon Isegrim's crown that
they should make Bruin a king and a lord, and bring him in the
stool at Akon,1 and set the crown on his head ; and if there were
any of the King's friends or lineage that would be contrary or
against this, him should my father with his good and treasure
fordrive, and take from him his might and power.

" It happed so that on a morrowtide early when Grymbart, my
nephew, was of wine almost drunk, that he told it to Dame Sloep-
cade, his wife, in counsel, and bade her keep it secret. But she
anon forgat it, and said it forth in confession to my wife upon
an heath where they both wenten a pilgrimage, but she must first
swear, by her truth and by the holy Three Kings of Cologne, that
for love ne for hate she should never tell it forth, but keep it
secret. But she held it not, and kept it no longer secret but till
she came to me ; and she then told to me all that she heard, but
I must keep it in secret. And she told me so many tokens that
I felt well it was truth ; and for dread and fear mine hair stood
right up, and my heart became as heavy as lead and as cold as

1 Akon, Aachen, Aix-la-Chapelle.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 79

ice. I thought by this a likeness which here aforetime befell
to the frosshis l which were free and complained that they had
none lord ne were not bydwongen,2 for a comynte8 without a
governor was not good, and they cried to God with a loud voice
that he would ordain one that might rule them, this was all that
they desired. God heard their request, for it was reasonable, and
sent to them a Stork which ate and swallowed them in, as many
as he could find ; he was alway to them unmerciful. Tho com-
plained they their hurt, but then it was too late ; they that were
tofore free and were afraid of nobody ben now bound and must
obey to strength their king : herefor, ye rich and poor, I sorrowed,
that it might happen us in likewise.

" Thus, my lord the King, I have had sorrow for you whereof
ye can me but little thank. I know Bruin the Bear for such a
shrew and ravener, wherefore I thought if he were king we should
be all destroyed and lost. I know our sovereign lord the King
of so high birth, so mighty, so benign and merciful, that I thought
truly it had been an evil change for to have a foul stinking thief
and to refuse a noble mighty stately Lion; for the Bear hath
more mad folly in his unthrifty head, and all his ancestors, than
any other hath. Thus had I in mine heart many a sorrow, and
thought alway how I might break and foredo my father's false
counsel, which of a churl and a traitor and worse than a thief
would make a lord and a king. Alway I prayed God that he
would keep our King in worship and good health, and grant him
long life, but I thought well if my father held his treasure he
should with his false fellows well find the way that the King
should be deposed and set aside. I was sore bethought how I
might best wit 4 where my father's good lay. I awaited at all times
as nigh as I could, in woods, in bushes, in fields; where my
father laid his eyen ; were it by night or by day, cold or wet, I
was alway by him to espy and know where his treasure was laid.

" On a time I lay down all plat on the ground and saw my

1 Frosshis, frogs.

2 Bydwongen, held in restraint (Dutch, bediuingen ; German, bezivingeri).

3 Comynte, community. 4 Wit, know.

8o THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

father come running out of an hole. Now hark what I saw him
do. When he came out of the hole, he looked fast about if any-
body had seen him. And when he could nowhere none see, he
stopped the hole with sand and made it even and plain like to
the other ground by. He knew not that I saw it. And where
his footspore stood, there stryked he with his tail, and made it
smooth with his mouth, that no man should espy it. That learned
I there of my false father, and many subtleties that I tofore knew
nothing of. Then departed he thence and ran to the village
ward for to do his things ; and I forgot not, but sprang and leapt
to the hole ward, and how well that he had supposed that he
had made all fast I was not so much a fool but that I found the
hole well, and scratched and scraped with my feet the sand out
of the hole, and crept therein. There found I the most plenty
of silver and of gold that ever I saw. Here is none so old that
ever so much saw on one heap in all his life. Tho took I Erme-
lyne my wife to help, and we ne rested night ne day to bear and
carry away, with great labour and pain, this rich treasure in to
another place that lay for us better, under an hawe in a deep hole.
In the mean while that mine housewife and I thus laboured, my
father was with them that would betray the King. Now may ye
hear what they did. Bruin the Bear and Isegrim the Wolf sent
all the land about if any man would take wages that they should
come to Bruin and he would pay them their souldye or wages
tofore. My father ran all over the land and bare the letters. He
wist little that he was robbed of his treasure ; yea though he might
have wonnen all the world, he had not conne find a penny
thereot

" When my father had been over all in the land between the
Elbe and the Somme, and had gotten many a soldier that
should the next summer have comen to help Bruin, tho came he
again to the Bear and his fellows, and told them in how great a
venture he had be tofore the boroughs in the land of Saxon, and
how the hunters daily ridden and hunted with hounds after him
in such wise that he unnethes escaped with his life. When he had
told this to these four false traitors, then showed he them letters

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 81

that pleased much. To Bruin therein were written twelve hundred
of Isegrim's lineage by name, without the bears, the foxes, the
cats, and the dassen, all these had sworn that with the first
messenger that should come for them they should be ready, and
come for to help the Bear if they had their wages a month tofore.
This aspied I, I thank God. After these words my father went to
the hole where his treasure had lain, and would look upon it.
Tho began he a great sorrow ; that he sought he found nothing.
He found his hole broken, and his treasure borne away. There
did he that I may well sorrow and bewail, for great anger and
sorrow he went and hung himself. Thus abode the treason of
Bruin by my subtilty after. Now see mine infortune. These
traitors Isegrim and Bruin ben now most privy of counsel about
the King, and sit by him on the high bench. And T, poor Rey-
nart, have ne thanks ne reward. I have buried mine own father,
because the King should have his life. My lord," said the Fox,
"where ben they that would so do, that is, to destroy them self
for to keep you."

The King and the Queen hoped to win the treasure and with-
out council took to them Reynart and prayed him that he would
do so well as to tell them where this treasure was.

Reynart said, " How should I tell the King, or them that would
hang me for love of the traitors and murderers which by their
flattery would fain bring me to death ? Should I tell to them
where my good is, then were I out of my wit."

The Queen then spake, " Nay, Reynart, the King shall let you
have your life, and shall altogether forgive you, and ye shall be
from henceforth wise and true to my lord."

The Fox answered to the Queen, " Dear lady, if the King will
believe me, and that he will pardon and forgive me all my old tres-
passes, there was never King so rich as I shall make him. For
the treasure that I shall do him have is right costly and may not
be numbered."

The King said, " Ach Dame, will ye believe the Fox ? Save
your reverence, he is born to rob, steal, and to lie. This cleaves
to his bones, and can not be had out of the flesh."

F

82 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

The Queen said, " Nay, my lord, ye may now well believe him.
Though he were tofore fell, he is now changed otherwise than he
was. Ye have well heard that he hath impeached his father and
the Dasse his nephew, which he might well have laid on other
beasts if he would have been false, fell, and a liar."

The King said, " Dame, will ye then have it so, and think ye
it best to be don, though I supposed it should hurt me I will take
all these trespasses of Reynart upon me and believe his words.
But I swear by my crown, if he ever hereafter misdo and tres-
pass, that shall he dear abye and all his lineage unto the ninth
degree."

The Fox looked on the King stoundmele,1 and was glad in his
heart, and said, " My lord, I were not wise if I should say things
that were not true."

The King took up a straw from the ground, and pardoned and
forgave the Fox all the misdeeds and trespasses of his father and
of him also.

If the Fox was tho merry and glad, it was no wonder; for
he was quit of his death and was all free and frank of all his
enemies.

The Fox said, " My Lord the King and noble Lady the Queen,
God reward you this great worship that ye do to me. I shall
think and also thank you for it in such wise that ye shall be the
richest king of the world ; for there is none living under the sun
that I vouchsafe better my treasure on, than on you both."

Then took the Fox up a straw and proffered it to the King,
and said, " My most dear Lord, please it you to receive here the
rich treasure which King Ermeryk had. For I give it unto you
with a free will, and knowledge it openly."

The King received the straw, and threw it merely from him
with a joyous visage, and thanked much the Fox.

The Fox laughed in himself.

The King then hearkened after the counsel of the Fox. And
all that there were were at his will.

" My Lord, ""said he, "hearken and mark well my words. In

1 Stoundmele, for a space of time.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 83

the west side of Flanders there standeth a wood and is named
Hulsterlo, and a water that is called Krekenpyt lieth thereby.
This is so great a wilderness, that oft in a whole year man nor
wife cometh therein, save they that will, and they that will not
eschew it. There lieth this treasure hidden. Understand well
that the place is called Krekenpyt, for I advise you, for the least
hurt, that ye and my Lady go both thither ; for I know none so
true that I durst on your behalf trust; wherefore go yourself.
And when ye come to Krekenpyt ye shall find there two birch
trees standing althernext l the pit. My Lord, to tho birch trees
shall ye go : there lieth the treasure untherdolven.2 There must
ye scrape and dig away a little the moss on the one side. There
shall ye find many a jewel of gold and silver, and there shall ye
find the crown which King Ermeryk wore in his days. That
should Bruin the Bear have worn, if his will had gone forth.
Ye shall see many a costly jewel, with rich stones set in gold
work, which cost many a thousand mark. My Lord the King,
when ye now have all this good, how oft shall ye say in your
heart and think, ' Oh how true art thou, Reynart the Fox, that
with thy subtle wit delvest and hidest this great treasure I God
give thee good hap and welfare wherever thou be ! "'

The King said, " Sir Reynart, ye must come and help us to
dig up this treasure. I know not the way. I should never
conne find it. I have heard often named Paris, London, Aachen,
and Cologne; as me thinketh this treasure lieth right as ye
mocked and japed, for ye name Krekenpyt. That is a feigned
name."

These words were not good to the Fox, and he said with an
angry mood, and dissembled and said, " Yea, my Lord the King,
ye be also nigh that as from Rome to Maye. Ween ye that I will
lead you to flume 8 Jordan. Nay, I shall bring you out of weening
and show it you by good witness."

He called loud, " Cuwart the Hare, come here tofore the King."
The beasts saw all thitherward and wondered what the King would,

1 Allhernext, nextofalh * Untherdolven, dug under.

8 Flume> river.

84 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

The Fox said to the Hare, " Cuwart, are ye acold ; how tremble
ye and quake so ? Be not afraid ; and tell my Lord the King
here the truth, and that I charge you, by the faith and truth that
ye owe him and to my Lady the Queen, of such thing as I shall
demand of you."

Cuwart said, " I shall say the truth, though I should lose my
neck therefor. I shall not lie, ye have charged me so sore, if I
know it."

" Then say, know ye not where Krekenpyt standeth ? Is that
in your mind ? "

The Hare said, " I knew that well twelve year agone, where
that standeth. Why ask ye that ? It standeth in a wood named
Hulsterlo, upon a warande l in the wilderness. I have suffered
there much sorrow for hunger and for cold, yea, more than I can
tell. Pater Symonet the Friese was woned 2 to make there false
money, wherewith he bare himself out and all his fellowship ;
but that was tofore ere I had fellowship with Ryn the Hound,
which made me escape many a danger ; as he could well tell if
he were here, and that I never in my days trespassed against the
King otherwise than I ought to do with right."

Reynart said to him, " Go again to yonder fellowship. Hear
ye, Cuwart? My Lord the King desireth no more to know
of you."

The Hare returned and went again to the place he came from.

The Fox said, " My Lord the King, is it true that I said ? "

" Yea, Reynart," said the King, " forgive it me ; I did evil that
I believed you not. Now, Reynart, friend, find the way that ye
go with us to the place and pit where the treasure lieth."

The Fox said, " It is a wonder thing. Ween ye that I would
not fain go with you ; if it were so with me that I might go with
you in such wise that it no shame were unto your lordship, I
would go. But nay, it may not be. Hearken what I shall say,
and must needs, though it be to me villainy and shame. When

1 Warande, warren, a place privileged by a franchise from the King for keeping
or hunting certain animals, to the exclusion of all persons entering without per-
mission. 2 Woned, accustomed.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 85

Isegrim the Wolf, in the devil's name, went into religion and
became a monk shorn in the order, tho the provender of six
monks was not sufficient to him, and had not enough to eat,
he then plained and wailed so sore that I had pity on him,
for he became slow and sick. And because he was of my kin,
I gave him counsel to run away, and so he did. Wherefore I
stand accursed, and am in the Pope's ban and sentence. I will
to-morrow betimes, as the sun riseth, take my way to Rome for
to be assoiled l and take pardon. And from Rome I will over the
sea into the Holy Land, and will never return again till I have
done so much good that I may with worship go with you. It
were great reproof to you, my Lord the King, in what land that
I accompanied you that men should say ye reysed 2 and accom-
panied yourself with a cursed and person agravate."

The King said, "Sith that ye stand accursed in the censures
of the Church, if I went with you men should arette villainy unto
my dtown. I shall then take Cuwart or some other to go with
me to Krekenpyt; and I counsel you, Reynart, that ye put you
yourself out of this curse."

"My Lord," quoth the Fox, "therefore will I go to Rome
as hastily as I may. I shall not rest by night nor day till I
be assoiled."

"Reynart," said the King, "me thinketh ye ben turned into
a good way. God give you grace to accomplish well your
desire."

As soon as this speaking was done, Noble the King went and
stood upon an high stage of stone and commanded silence to all
the beasts, and that they should sit down in a ring round upon
the grass, everiche in his place after his estate and birth. Reynart
the Fox stood by the Queen, whom he ought well to love.

Then said the King, "Hear ye all that be poor and rich,
young and old, that standeth here. Reynart, one of the head
officers of my house, had done so evil, which this day should
have been hanged, hath now in this Court done so much, that
I and my wife the Queen have promised to him our grace and

i Assoiled, absolved. 2 Reysed, travelled (reisen}.

86 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

friendship. The Queen hath prayed much for him, insomuch
that I have made peace with him. And I give to him his life
and member freely again, and I command you upon your life
that ye do worship to Reynart and his wife, and to his children,
wheresomever ye meet them by day or night. And I will also
hear no more complaints of Reynart. If he hath heretofore
misdone and trespassed, he will no more misdo ne trespass, but
now better him. He will to-morrow early go to the Pope for
pardon and forgiveness of all his sins, and forth over the sea to
the Holy Land, and he will not come again till he bring pardon
of all his sins."

This tale heard Tyselyn the Raven and leapt lo Isegrim to
Bruin and to Tybert, there as they were, and said, " Ye caitifs,
how goeth it now ? Ye unhappy folk, what do ye here ? Rey-
nart the Fox is now a squire and a courtier, and right great and
mighty in the Court. The King hath skylled him quite of all
his brokes,1 and forgiven him all his trespasses and misdeeds.
And ye be all betrayed and appeached."

Isegrim said, "How may this be? I trow Tyselyn that
ye lie."

" I do not, certainly," said the Raven.

Tho went the Wolf and the Bear to the King. Tybert the Cat
was in great sorrow, and he was so sore afraid that for to have
the Fox's friendship he would well forgive Reynart the loss of
his one eye that he lost in the priest's house ; he was so woe he
wist not what to do, he would well that he never had seen the
Fox.

CHAPTER XVIII.

How the Wolf and the Bear were arrested ly the labour of
Reynart the Fox.

ISEGRIM came proudly over the field tofore the King, and he
thanked the Queen, and spake with a fell mood ill words on the
Fox, in suchwise that the King heard it and was wroth, and

1 Skylled him. quite of all his trokes, judged him acquitted of all his dealings.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 87

made the Wolf and the Bear anon to be arrested. Ye saw never
wood l dogs do more harm than was done to them. They were
both fast botmden, so sore that all that night they might not stir
hand ne foot. They might scarcely roar ne move any joint.
Now hear how the Fox forth did. He hated them. He laboured
so to the Queen that he got leave for to have as much of the
Bear's skin upon his rigge 2 as a foot long and a foot broad, for to
make him thereof a scrip ; then was the Fox ready if he had
four strong shoon. Now hear how he did for to get these shoon.

He said to the Queen, " Madam, I am your pilgrim. Here is
mine Erne, Sir Isegrim, that hath four strong shoon which were good
for me. If he would let me have two of them I would on the
way busily think on your soul, for it is right that a pilgrim should
always think and pray for them that do him good. Thus may ye
do your soul good if ye will. And also if ye might get of mine
aunt Dame Ersewynde also two of her shoon to give me, she may
well do it, for she goeth but little out, but abideth alway at
home."

Then said the Queen, "Reynart, you behoveth well such
shoes; ye may not be without them. They shall be good for
you to keep your feet whole for to pass with them many a sharp
mountain and stony rocks. Ye can find no better shoes for you
than such as Isegrim and his wife have and wear. They be
good and strong. Though it should touch their life, each of
them shall give you two shoes for to accomplish with your high
pilgrimage."

CHAPTER XIX.

How Isegrim and his wife Ersewynde must suffer their shoes to be
plucked off, and how Reynart did on the shoes for to go to
Rome with.

THUS hath this false pilgrim gotten from Isegrim two shoes from

his feet, which were hauled off the claws to the sinews. Ye saw

never fowl that men roasted lay so still as Isegrim did when his

1 Wood, mad. 2 Rigge, back.

88 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

shoes were hauled off. He stirred not, and yet his feet bled.
Then when Isegrim was unshod tho must Dame Ersewynde his
wife lie down in the grass with an heavy cheer. And she lost
there her hinder shoes.

Tho was the Fox glad, and said to his Aunt in scorn, " My dear
Aunt, how much sorrow have ye suffered for my sake, which me
sore repenteth, save this, hereof I am glad for ye be the liefest T of
all my kin. Therefore I will gladly wear your shoes. Ye shall
be partner of my pilgrimage and deal of the pardon that I shall
with your shoes fetch over the sea."

Dame Ersewynde was so woe that she unnethe might speak.
Nevertheless this she said, " Ah, Reynart, that ye now all thus
have your will, I pray God to wreak 2 it ! "

Isegrim and his fellow the Bear held their peace and were all
still. They were evil at ease for they were bound and sore
wounded. Had Tybert the Cat have been there, he should also
somewhat have suffered, in such wise as he should not have
escaped thence without hurt or shame.

The next day, when the sun arose, Reynart then did grease
his shoes which he had of Isegrim and Ersewynde his wife, and did
them on, and bound them to his feet, and went to the King and
to the Queen and said to them with a glad cheer, " Noble Lord
and Lady, God give you good morrow, and I desire of your grace
that I may have male8 and staff blessed as belongeth to a
pilgrim."

Then the King anon sent for Bellyn the Ram, and when he
came he said, " Sir Bellyn, ye shall do mass tofore Reynart, for
he shall go on pilgrimage ; and give to him male and staff."

The Ram answered again and said, " My Lord, I dare not do
that, for he hath said that he is in the Pope's curse."

The King said what thereof master Gelys hath said to us, if a
man had don as many sins as all the world and he would tho
sins forsake, shrive him and receive penance, and do by the
priest's counsel, God will forgive them and be merciful unto him.

1 Liefest, best loved. 2 Wreak, avenge.

3 Male, bag, scrip.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 89

Now will Reynart go over the sea into the Holy Land, and make
him clear of all his sins.

Then answered Belly n to the King, " I will not do little ne
much herein but if ye save me harmless in the spiritual court,
before the bishop Prendelor and tofore his archdeacon Looswinde
and tofore Sir Rapiamus his official."

The King began to wax wroth, and said, " I shall not bid you
so much in half a year ! I had liever hang you than I should so
much pray you for it ! n

When the Ram saw that the King was angry, he was so sore
afraid that he quoke for fear, and went to the altar and sang in
his books and read such as him thought good over Reynart,
which little set thereby save that he would have the worship thereof.

When Bellyn the Ram had all said his service devoutly, then
he hung on the fox's neck a male covered with the skin of Bruin
the Bear and a little psalter thereby. Tho was Reynart ready
toward his journey. Tho looked he toward the King, as he had
been sorrowful to depart ; and feigned as he had wept, right as
he had yamerde T in his heart : but if he had any sorrow it was be-
cause all the other that were there were not in the same plight
as the Wolf and Bear were brought in by him. Nevertheless he
stood and prayed them all to pray for him, like as he would pray
for them. The Fox thought that he tarried long and would fain
have departed, for he knew himself guilty.

The King said, " Reynart, I am sorry ye be so hasty, and will
no longer tarry."

" Nay, my Lord, it is time, for we ought not spare to do well,
I pray you to give me leave to depart : I must do my pilgrim-
age."

The King said, " God be with you," and commanded all them
of the court to go and convey Reynart on his way, save the Wolf
and the Bear which fast lay bounden. There was none that durst
be sorry therefor, and if ye had seen Reynart how personably
he went with his male and psalter on his shoulder, and the shoes
on his feet, ye should have laughed. He went and showed him

1 Yamerde, grief (jammer).

90 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

outward wisely, but he laughed in his heart that all they brought
him forth which had a little tofore been with him so wroth.
And also the King which so much hated him, he had made him
such a fool that he brought him to his owne intent. He was a
pilgrim of deuce ace."

" My Lord the King," said the Fox, " I pray you to return
again. I will not that ye go any further with me. Ye might
have harm thereby. Ye have there two murderers arrested. If
they escape you, ye might be hurt by them. I pray God keep
you from misadventure ! " With these words he stood up on his
afterfeet, and prayed all the beasts, great and small, that would
be partners of his pardon, that, they should pray for him.

They said that they all would remember him.

Then departed he from the King so heavily that many of them
ermed.1

Then said he to Cuwart the Hare and to Bellyn the Ram
merrily, " Here, friends, shall we now depart ? Yea, with a good
will accompany me further. Ye two made me never angry. Ye
be good for to walk with, courteous, friendly, and not complained
on of any beast. Ye be of good conditions and ghostly of your
living ; ye live both as I did when I was a recluse. If ye have
leaves and grass ye be pleased, ye reck not of bread of flesh ne
such manner meat"

With such flattering words hath Reynart these two flattered
that they went with him till they came tofore his house Male-
perduys.

CHAPTER XX.

How Cuwart the Hare was slain by the Fox.

WHEN the Fox was come tofore the gate of his house, he said
to Bellyn the Ram, " Cousin, ye shall abide here without, I and
Cuwart will go in, for I will pray Cuwart to help me to take my
leave of Ermelyne my wife, and to comfort her and my children."
Bellyn said, " I pray him to comfort them well."

1 Ermed, grieved.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 91

With such flattering words brought he the Hare into his hole
in an evil hour. There found they Dame Ermelyne lying on the
ground with her younglings, which had sorrowed much for dread
of Reynart's death. But when she saw him come, she was glad.
But when she saw his male and psalter, and espied his shoes, she
marvelled and said, " Dear Reynart, how have ye sped ? "

He said I was arrested in the court, but the King let me gon.
I must go a pilgrimage. Bruin the Bear and Isegrim the Wolf
they be pledge for me. I thank the King he hath given to us
Cuwart here, for to do with him what we will. The King said
himself that Cuwart was the first that on us complained, and by
the faith that I owe you I am right wroth on Cuwart."

When Cuwart heard these words he was sore afraid. He would
have fled but he might not, for the Fox stood between him and
the gate, and he caught him by the neck. Tho cried the Hare,
" Help, Bellyn, help ! Where be ye ? This pilgrim slayeth me ? "
But that cry was soon done, for the Fox had anon bitten his throat
a two.

Tho said he, " Let us go eat this good fat hare." The young
whelps came also. Thus held they a great feast, for Cuwart had
a good fat body. Ermelyne ate the flesh and drank the blood ;
she thanked oft the King that he had made them so merry. The
Fox said, " Eat as much as ye may, he will pay for it if we will
fetch it."

She said, " Reynart, I trow ye mock. Tell me the truth how
ye be departed thence."

" Dame, I have so flattered the king and the queen that I sup-
pose the friendship between us shall be right thin. When he
shall know of this he shall be angry, and hastily seek me for to
hang me by mine neck. Therefore let us depart, and steal secretly
away in some other forest where we may live without fear and
dread, and there that we may live seven year and more an they
find us not. There is plenty of good meat of partridges, wood-
cocks, and much other wild fowl, Dame, and if ye will come with
me thither there ben sweet wells and fair and clear running brooks ;
Lord God, how sweet air is there. There may we be in peace

92 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

and ease, and live in great wealth. For the King hath let me
gon because I told him that there was great treasure in Krekenpyt,
but there shall he find nothing though he sought ever. This shall
sore anger him when he knoweth that he is thus deceived. What !
trow ye how many a great leasing must I lie ere I could escape
from him. It was hard that I escaped out of prison ; I was never
in greater peril ne nearer my death. But how it ever go I shall
by my will never more come in the King's danger. I have now
gotten my thumb out of his mouth, that thank I my subtilty."

Dame Ermelyne said, "Reynart, I counsel that we go not
into another forest where we should be strange and elenge. We
have here all that we desire. And ye be here lord of our neigh-
bours ; wherefore shall we leave this place and adventure us in
a worse ? We may abide here sure enough. If the King would
do us any harm or besiege us, here ben so many by or side holes,
in such wise as we shall escape from him ; in abiding here we may
not do amiss. We know all bypaths over all, and ere he take
us with might he must have much help thereto. But that ye
have sworn that ye shall go oversea and abide there, that is the
thing that toucheth me most."

"Nay, Dame, care not therefor. How more forsworn, how
more forlorn. I went once with a good man that said to me
that a bedwongen l oath, or oath sworn by force, was none oath.
Though I went on this pilgrimage it should not avail me a cat's
tail. I will abide here and follow your counsel. If the King
hunt after me, I shall keep me as well as I may. If he be me
too mighty, yet I hope with subtlety to beguile him. I shall
unbind my sack. If he will seek harm he shall find harm."

Now was Bellyn the Ram angry that Cuwart his fellow was so
long in the hole, and called loud, "Come out, Cuwart, in the
devil's name; ho\v long shall Reynart keep you there? Haste
you, and come ! Let us go."

When Reynart heard this, he went out and said softly to Bellyn
the Ram, " Lief Bellyn, wherefore be ye angry ? Cuwart speaketh
with his dear Aunt. Methinketh ye ought not to be displeased

1 Bedwongen, enforced.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 93

therefor. He bade me say to you ye might well go tofore, and
he shall come after ; he is lighter of foot than ye. He must tarry
awhile with his Aunt and her children, they weep and cry because
I shall go from them."

Bellyn said, "What did Cuwart? Methought he cried after
help."

The Fox answered, " What say ye, Bellyn ? Ween ye that he
should have any harm? Now hark what he then did. When
we were comen into mine house, and Ermelyne my wife under-
stood that I should go over sea, she fell down in a swoon ; and
when Cuwart saw that, he cried loud, * Bellyn, come help mine
Aunt to bring her out of her swoon.' "

Then said the Ram, " In faith I understood that Cuwart had
been in great danger."

The Fox said, " Nay truly, or Cuwart should have any harm
in my house I had liever that my wife and children should suffer
much hurt."

CHAPTER XXI.

Hoiv the Fox sent the head of Cuivart the Hare to the King
by Bellyn the Ram.

THE Fox said, " Bellyn, remember ye not that yesterday the
King and his council commanded me that ere I should depart out
of this land I should send to him two letters ? Dear cousin, I
pray you to bear them, they be ready written."

The Ram said, " I wot never. If I wist that your inditing
and writing were good, ye might peradventure so much pray me
that I would bear them, if I had anything to bear them in."

Reynart said, "Ye shall not fail to have somewhat to bear
them in. Rather than they should be unborne I shall rather
give you my male that I bear ; and put the King's letters therein,
and hang them about your neck. Ye shall have of the King
great thanks therefor, and be right welcomen to him."

Hereupon Bellyn promised him to bear these letters.

Tho returned Reynart into his house and took the male and

94 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

put therein Cuwart's head, and brought it to Bellyn for to bring
him in danger, and hang it on his neck, and charged him not to
look in the male if he would have the King's friendship. " And
if ye will that the King take you into his grace and love you, say
that ye yourself have made the letter and indited it, and have
given the counsel that it is so well made and written. Ye shall
have great thanks therefor."

Bellyn the Ram was glad hereof, and thought he should have
great thanks, and said, " Reynart, I wot well that ye now do for
me. I shall be in the Court greatly praised when it is known
that I can indite and make a letter, though I cannot make it.
Ofttimes it happeneth that God suffereth some to have worship
and thank of the labours and cunning of other men, and so it
shall befall me now. Now, what counsel ye, Reynart? Shall
Cuwart the Hare come with me to the Court ? "

" Nay," said the Fox, " he shall anon follow you. He may not
yet come, for he must speak with his Aunt. Now go ye forth
tofore. I shall show to Cuwart secret things which ben not yet
known."

Bellyn said, " Farewell, Reynart," and went him forth to the
Court, And he ran and hasted so fast, that he came tofore mid--
day to the Court, and found the King in his palace with his
Barons. The King marvelled when he saw him bring the male
again which was made of the Bear's skin. The King said, " Say
on, Bellyn, from whence come ye ? Where is the Fox ? How
is it that he hath not the male with him ? "

Bellyn said, " My Lord, I shall say you all that I know. I
accompanied Reynart unto his house. And when he was ready,
he asked me if I that would for your sake bear two letters to you.
I said, for to do you pleasure and worship, I would gladly bear
to you seven. Tho brought he to me this male wherein the
letters be, which ben indited by my cunning, and I gave counsel
of the making of them. I trow ye saw never letters better ne
craftlier made ne indited."

The King commanded anon Bokart, his secretary, to read the
letters, for he understood all manner languages. Tybert the Cat

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 95

and he took the male off Bellyn's neck, and Bellyn hath so far
said and confessed that he therefore was dampned.1

The clerk Bokwart undid the male, and drew out Cuwart's
head, and said "Alas, what letters ben these 1 Certainly, my
Lord, this is Cuwart's head."

" Alas," said the King, " that ever I believed so the Fox ! "
There might men see great heaviness of the King and of the
Queen. The King was so angry that he held long down his
head, and at last, after many thoughts, he made a great cry, that
all the beasts were afraid of the noise.

Tho spake Sir Firapeel the Leopard, which was sybbe 2 some-
what to the King, and said, "Sire King, how make ye such a
noise 1 Ye make sorrow enough though the Queen were dead.
Let this sorrow go, and make good cheer. It is great shame.
Be ye not a Lord and King of this land ? Is it not all under
you, that here is ? "

The King said, " Sir Firapeel, how should I suffer this ? One
false shrew and deceiver has betrayed me and brought me so far,
that I have forwrought 3 and angered my friends the stout Bruin
the Bear and Isegrim the Wolf, which sore me repenteth. And
this goeth against my worship, that I have done amiss against my
best Barons, and that I trusted and believed so much the false
Fox. And my wife is cause thereof. She prayed me so much
that I heard her prayer, and that me repenteth, though it be
too late."

" What though, Sir King," said the Leopard. " If there be any
thing misdone it shall be amended. We shall give to Bruin the
Bear to Isegrim the Wolf and to Ersewynde his wife for the piece
of his skin and for their shoes, for to have good peace, Bellyn the
Ram. For he hath confessed himself that he gave counsel and
consented to Cu ward's death. It is reason that he abye it. And
we all shall go fetch Reynart, and we shall arrest him and
hang him by the neck, without law or judgment. And there
with all shall be content."

1 Dampned, condemned. 2 Sybbe, related by blood.

3 Forwrottght, overwrought

96 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

CHAPTER XXII.

How Belly n the Itam and all his lineage were given in the hands of
Isegrim and Bruin, and how he was slain.

THE King said, " I will do it gladly."

Firapeel the Leopard went tho to the prison and unbound them
first, and then he said, "Ye, sirs, I bring to you a fast pardon
and my lord's love and friendship. It repenteth him, and is
sorry, that he ever hath done spoken or trespassed against you,
and therefore ye shall have a good appointment. And also
amends he shall give to you, Bellyn the Ram and all his lineage
fro now forthon to doomsday, in such wise that wheresomever ye
find them, in field or in wood, that ye may freely bite and eat
them without any forfeit. And also the King granteth to you
that ye may hunt and do the worst ye can to Reynart and all his
lineage without misdoing. This fair great privilege will the King
grant to you ever to hold of him. And the King will that ye
swear to him never to misdo, but do him homage and fealty. I
counsel you to do this, for ye may do it honourably."

Thus was the peace made by Firapeel the Leopard, friendly
and well. And that cost Bellyn the Ram his tabart x and also his
life, and the Wolf's lineage hold these privileges of the King.
And in to this day they devour and eat Bellyn's lineage where
that they may find them. This debate was begun in an evil time,
for the peace could never sith 2 be made between them.

The King did forth with his Court and feast length twelve days
longer for love of the Bear and the Wolf, so glad was he of the
making of this peace.

CHAPTER XXIII.

How the King held his feast, and how Lapreel the Cony complained
unto the King upon Reynart the Fox.

To this great feast came all manner of beasts, for the King did do
cry this feast over all in that land. There was the most joy and

1 Tabart, coat. The sleeveless coat of a labourer. 2 Sitk, after.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 97

mirth that ever was seen among beasts. There was danced
mannerly the hovedance,1 with shalms, trumpets, and all manner
of minstrelsy. The King did do ordain so much meat that
everych found enough. And there was no beast in all his land so
great ne so little but he was there, and there were many fowls and
birds also, and all they that desired the King's friendship were
there, saving Reynart the Fox, the red false pilgrim which lay
in await to do harm and thought it was not good for him to be
there. Meat and drink flowed there. There were plays and
esbatemens. The feast was full of melody. One might have
lust to see such a feast.

And right as the feast had dured eight days, about mid-day
came in the Cony Lapreel tofore the King, where he sat on the
table with the Queen, and said all heavily that all they heard him
that were there, " My lord, have pity on my complaint, which is
of great force and murder that Reynart the Fox would have done
to me yester morrow as I came running by his borugh at Male-
perduys. He stood before his door without, like a pilgrim. I
supposed to have passed by him peaceably toward this feast, and
when he saw me come he came against me saying his beads. I
saluted him, but he spake not one word, but he raught out
his right foot and dubbed me in the neck between mine ears
that I had weened I should have lost my head, but God be
thanked I was so light that I sprang from him. With much pain
came I off his claws. He grimmed as he had been angry by cause
he held me no faster. Tho I escaped from him I lost mine one
ear, and I had four great holes in my head of his sharp nails that
the blood sprang out and that I was nigh all aswoon, but
for the great fear of my life I sprang and ran so fast from him
that he could not overtake me. See, my Lord these great
wounds that he hath made to me with his sharp long nails. I
pray you to have pity of me, and that ye will punish this false
traitor and murderer, or else shall there no man go and come
over the heath in safety whiles he haunteth his false and shrewd
rule."

1 Hovedance, court (hof) dance.

98 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Hmv Corbant the Rook complained on the Fox for the death of
his wife.

RIGHT as the Cony had made an end of his complaint, came in
Corbant the Rook flowen in the place tofore the King and said,
" Dear Lord, hear me. I bring you here a piteous complaint. I
went to-day by the morrow x with Sharpebek my wife for to play
upon the heath. And there lay Reynart the Fox down on the
ground, like a dead caitiff. His eyes stared and his tongue hung
long out of his mouth, like an hound had been dead. We tasted 2
and felt his belly but we found thereon no life. Tho went my
wife and hearkened, and laid her ear tofore his mouth for to wit
if he drew his breath, which misfell her evil : For the false fell
Fox awaited well his time, and when he saw her so nigh him he
caught her by the head and bit it off. Tho was I in great
sorrow and cried loud, c Alas ! alas ! what is there happened ? '
Then stood he hastily up and raught so covetously after me that
for fear of death I trembled, and flew upon a tree thereby, and
saw from far how the false caitiff ate and slonked3 her in, so
hungrily that he left neither flesh ne bone, no more but a few
feathers. The small feathers he slang them in with the flesh ; he
was so hungry, he would well have eaten twain. Tho went he
his strete. Tho flew I down with great sorrow, and gathered up
the feathers for to show them to. you here. I would not be again
in such peril and fear as I was there for a thousand mark of the
finest gold that ever came of Araby. My Lord the King, see
here this piteous work. This ben the feathers of Sharpebek my
wife ! My Lord, if ye will have worship ye must do herefor
justice, and avenge you in such wise as men may fear and hold of
you, for if ye suffer thus your safe conduct to be broken, ye your-
self shall not go peaceably in the highway. For the lords that do
not justice, and suffer that the law be not executed upon the

1 Morrow, morning. 2 Tasted, touched.

3 Slonked, swallowed (schlingeri).

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 90

thieves, murderers, and them that misdo, they be partners tofore
God of all their misdeeds and trespasses, and eueryche then will
be a lord himself. Dear Lord see well to, for to keep yourself."

CHAPTER XXV.

How the King was sore angry of these complaints.

NOBLE the King was sore moved and angry when he had heard
these complaints of the Cony and of the Rook. He was so
frightful to look on that his eyen glimmered as fire ; he brayed as
loud as a bull, in such wise that all the Court quoke for fear ; at
the last he said, crying, " By my crown, and by the truth that I
owe to my wife, I shall so awreak and avenge these trespasses that
it shall be long spoken of after. That my safe conduct and my
commandment is thus broken, I was over nice that I believed so
lightly the false shrew. His false flattering speech deceived me.
He told me he would go to Rome, and from thence over the sea to
the Holy Land. I gave him male and psalter, and made of him
a pilgrim, and meant all truth. Oh, what false touches can he !
How can he stuff the sleeve with flocks ! But this caused my
wife. It was all by her counsel. I am not the first that have
been deceived by women's counsel, by which many a great hurt
hath befallen. I pray and command all them that hold of me,
and desire my friendship, be they here or wheresomever they be,
that they with their counsel and deeds help me to avenge this over
great trespass, that we and ours may abide in honour and worship
and this false thief in shame. That he no more trespass against
our safeguard, I will myself in my person help thereto all that I
may."

Isegrim the Wolf and Bruin the Bear heard well the King's
words, and hoped well to be avenged on Reynart the Fox, but
they durst not speak one word. The King was so sore moved
that none durst well speak.

At last the Queen spake, " Sire, pour dieu ne croyes mye toutes
choses que on vous dye, et ne lures pas legierment. A man of

loo THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

worship should not lightly believe, ne swear greatly, unto the
time he knew the matter clearly; and also he ought by right
hear that other party speak. There ben many that complain on
other and ben in the default themself. Audi alteram par tern :
hear that other party. I have truly holden the Fox for good, and
upon that that he meant no falsehood I helped him that I might.
But howsomever it cometh or goeth, is he evil or good, me
thinketh for your worship that ye should not proceed against
him over hastily. That were not good ne honest, for he may
not escape from you. Ye may prison him or flay him, he must
obey your judgment."

Then said Firapeel the Leopard, " My Lord, me thinketh my
Lady here hath said to you truth and given you good counsel ; do
ye well and follow her, and take advice of your wise council.
And if he be founden guilty in the trespasses that now to you
be showed, let him be sore punished according to his trespasses.
And if he come not hither ere this feast be ended, and excuse
him as he ought of right to do, then do as the council shall
advise you. But and if he were twice as much false and ill as
he is, I would not counsel that he should be done to more than
right."

Isegrim the Wolf said, " Sir Firapeel, all we agree to the same ;
as far as it pleaseth my lord the King, it cannot be better. But
though Reynart were now here, and he cleared him of double so
many plaints, yet should I bring forth against him that he had
forfeited his life. But I will now be still and say not, because
he is not present. And yet, above all this, he hath told the
King of certain treasure lying in Krekenpyt in Hulsterlo. There
was never lied a greater leasing; therewith he hath us all beguiled,
and hath sore hindered me and the Bear. I dare lay my life
thereon that he said not thereof a true word. Now robbeth he
and stealeth upon the heath all that goeth forth by his house.
Nevertheless, Sir Firapeel, what that pleaseth the King and you
that must well be done. But and if he would have comen hither
he might have been here, for he had knowledge by the King's
messenger."

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 101

The King said, " We will none otherwise send for him, but I
command all them that owe me service and will my honour and
worship that they make them ready to the war at the end of six
days, all them that ben archers and have bows, guns, bombards,
horsemen and footmen, that all these be ready to besiege Male-
perduys. I shall destroy Reynart the Fox if I be a king. Ye
lords and sirs, what say ye hereto ? Will ye do this with a good
will?"

And they said and cried all, "Yea we, Lord, when that ye
will, we shall all go with you ! "

CHAPTER XXVI.

How Grymbart the Dasse warned the Fox that tJie King was
wroth with him and would slay him.

ALL these words heard Grymbart the Dasse, which was his brother
son. He was sorry and angry. If it might have profited he ran
then the highway to Maleperduys ward. He spared neither bush
ne hawe, but he hasted so sore that he sweat. He sorrowed in
himself for Reynart his rede Erne, and as he went he said to
himself, " Alas, in what danger be ye comen in ! Where shall ye
become I Shall I see you brought from life to death, or else exiled
out of the land ! Truly I may be well sorrowful, for ye be head
of all our lineage ; ye be wise of council, ye be ready to help
your friends when they have need, ye can so well show your
reasons that where ye speak ye win all."

With such manner wailing and piteous words came Grymbart
to Maleperduys, and found Reynart his Erne there standing,
which had gotten two pigeons as they came first out of their nest
to assay if they could fly, and because the feathers on their wings
were too short they fell down to the ground ; and as Reynart was
gone out to seek his meat he espied them and caught them, and
was comen home with them.

And when he saw Grymbart coming, he tarried and said,
"Welcome, my best beloved Nephew that I know in all my

102 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

kindred. Ye have run fast, ye ben all besweat j have ye any new
tidings ? "

" Alas," said he, " lief Erne, it standeth evil with you. Ye have
lost both life and good. The King hath sworn that he shall give
you a shameful death. He hath commanded all his folk within
six days for to be here. Archers, footmen, horsemen, and people
in wains ! And he hath guns, bombards, tents, and pavilions.
And also he hath do laden torches. See tofore you, for ye have
need. Isegrim and Bruin ben better now with the King than I
am with you. All that they will is done. Isegrim hath don him
to understand that ye be a thief and a murderer ; he hath great
envy to you. Lapreel the Cony, and Corbant the Rook have
made a great complaint also. I sorrow much for your life, that
for dread I am all sick."

"Puf !" said the Fox. " Dear Nephew, is there nothing else?
Be ye so sore afraid hereof? Make good cheer hardily. Though
the King himself and all that ben in the Court hath sworn my
death, yet shall I be exalted above them all. They may all fast
jangle, clatter, and give counsel, but the Court may not prosper
without me and my wiles and subtlety.

CHAPTER XXVII.
How Reynart the Fox came another time to the Court.

" DEAR Nephew, let all these things pass, and come here in and
see what I shall give you ; a good pair of fat pigeons. I love no
meat better. They ben good to digest. They may almost be
swolowen in all whole ; the bones ben half blood j I eat them with
that other. I feel myself other while encumbered in my stomach,
therefore eat I gladly light meat. My wife Ermelyne shall receive
us friendly, but tell her nothing of this thing for she should take
it over heavily. She is tender of heart ; she might for fear fall in
some sickness ; a little thing goeth sore to her heart. And to-
morrow early I will go with you to the Court, and if I may come
to speech and may be heard, I shall so answer that I shall touch

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 103

some nigh ynowh. Nephew, will not ye stand by me as a friend
ought to do to another ? "

"Yes truly, dear Erne," said Grymbart, "and all my good is at
your commandment."

" God thank you, Nephew," said the Fox. " That is well said*
If I may live, I shall quite it you."

" Erne," said Grymbart, " ye may well come tofore all the lords
and excuse you. There shall none arrest you ne hold as long
as ye be in your words. The Queen and the Leopard have
gotten that."

Then said the Fox, " Therefor I am glad ; then I care not for
the best of them an hair ; I shall well save myself."

They spoke no more hereof, but went forth into the burrow,
and found Ermelyne there sitting by her younglings, which arose
up anon and received them friendly. Grymbart saluted his aunt
and the children with friendly words. The two pigeons were
made ready for their supper, which Reynart had taken. Each of
them took his part, as far as it would stretch ; if each of them had
had one more there should but little have left over. The Fox
said, " Lief Nephew, how like ye my children Rossel and Rey-
nerdine ? They shall do worship to all our lineage. They begin
already to do well. That one catcheth well a chicken, and that
other a pullet They conne well also duck in the water after
lapwings and ducks. I would oft send them for provender, but
I will first teach them how they shall keep them from the grynnes,
from the hunters, and from the hounds. If they were so far
comen that they were wise, I durst well trust to them that they
should well victual us in many good divers meats that we now
lack. And they like and follow me well, for they play all grim-
ming, and where they hate they look friendly and merrily ; for
thereby they bring them under their feet, and bite the throat
asunder. This is the nature of the Fox. They be swift in their
taking, which pleaseth me well."

" Erne," said Grymbart, " ye may be glad that ye have such
wise children. And I am glad of them also because they be of
my kin."

104 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

11 Grymbart," said the Fox, " ye have sweat and be weary. It
were high tide that ye were at your rest."

" Erne, if it pleaseth you, it thinketh me good." Tho lay they
down on a litter made of straw. The Fox his wife and his chil-
dren went all to sleep, but the Fox was all heavy and lay, sighed,
and sorrowed l how he might best excuse himself.

On the morrow early he roomed 2 his castle and went with Grym-
bart. But he took leave first of Dame Ermelyne his wife and of
his children, and said, " Think not long. I must go to the Court
with Grymbart, my cousin. If I tarry somewhat, be not afraid ;
and if ye hear any ill tidings, take it alway for the best. And see
well to yourself and keep our castle well. I shall do yonder the
best I can, after that I see how it goeth."

" Alas, Reynart," said she, " how have ye now thus taken upon
you for to go to the Court again ? The last time that ye were
there, ye were in great jeopardy of your life. And ye said ye
would never come there more."

"Dame," said the Fox, "the adventure of the world is won-
derly ; it goeth otherwhile by weening. Many one weeneth to have
a thing which he must forego. I must needs now go thither.
Be content. It is all without dread. I hope to come at alther-
lengest within five days again."

Herewith he departed, and went with Grymbart to the Court
ward And when they were upon the heath then said Reynart,
"Nephew, sith I was last shriven I have done many shrewd
turns. I would ye would hear me now of all that I have tres-
passed in : I made the Bear to have a great wound for the male
which was cut out of his skin ; and also I made the Wolf and his
wife to lose their shoon ; I peased 3 the King with great leasings,
and bare him on hand that the Wolf and the Bear would have
betrayed him and would have slain him, so I made the King right
wroth with them where they deserved it not ; also I told to the
King that there was great treasure in Hulsterlo of which he was
never the better ne richer, for I lied all that I said ; I led Bellyn

1 Sorrowed, took careful thought. 2 Roomed, vacated.

3 Peased, pacified, appeased.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 105

the Ram and Cuwart the Hare with me, and slew Cuwart and
sent to the King by Bellyn Cuwart's head in scorn ; and I dowed l
the Cony between the ears that almost I benamme 2 his life from
him, for he escaped against my will, he was to me overswift ; the
Rook may well complain for I swallowed in Dame Sharpebek his
wife. And also I have forgotten one thing, the last time that I
was shriven to you, which I have sith bethought me ; and it was
of great deceit that I did ; which I now will tell you.

" I came with the Wolf walking between Houthulst and Elver-
dynge. There saw we go a red mare, and she had a black colt
or a foal of four months old which was good and fat Isegrim
was almost storven for hunger, and prayed me go to the Mare
and wit of her if she would sell her foal.

" I ran fast to the Mare and asked that of her. She said she
would sell it for money.

" I demanded of her, how she would sell it

" She said, ' It is written on my hinder foot If ye can read
and be a clerk ye may come see and read it'

" Tho wist I well where she would be, and I said, ' Nay, for
sooth, I cannot read. And also I desire not to buy your child.
Isegrim hath sent me hither, and would fain know the price
thereof.'

" The Mare said, c Let him come then himself, and I shall let
him have knowledge.'

" I said, ' I shall ; ' and hastily went to Isegrim, and said, * Erne
will you eat your bellyful of this colt, so go fast to the Mare for
she tarrieth after you. She hath do write the price of her colt
under her foot She would that I should have read it, but I can
not one letter, which me sore repenteth for I went never to school.
Erne will ye buy that colt ? Can ye read, so may ye buy it'

" * Oh, Nephew, that can I well What should me let ? I can
well French, Latin, English, and Dutch. I have gone to school
at Oxenford, I have also with old and ancient doctors been in
the audience and heard pleas, and also have given sentence, I
am licensed in both laws ; what manner writing that any man

1 Dowed, struck. 2 Bfnamme, took away.

106 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

can devise I can read it as perfectly as my name : I will go to
her, and shall anon understand the price,' and he bade me to
tarry for him, and he ran to the Mare, and asked her how she
would sell her foal or keep it. She said, ' The sum of the money
standeth written after on my foot.' He said, * Let me read it.'
She said, * Do,' and lifte up her foot, which was new shod with
iron and six strong nails j and she smote him, without missing,
on his head, that he fell down as he had been dead. A man
should well have ridden a mile ere he arose. The Mare trotted
away with her colt, and she left Isegrim lying shrewdly hurt and
wounded. He lay and bled, and howled as an hound. I went
tho to him and said, f Sir Isegrim, dear Erne, how is it now with
you ? Have you eaten yenowh of the colt ? Is your belly full ?
Why give ye me no part ? I did your errand. Have slept ye
your dinner? I pray you tell me, what was written under the
mare's foot ? What was it, prose or rhyme, metre or verse ? I
would fain know it. I trow it was cantum, for I heard you sing,
me thought, from fear ; for ye were so wise that no man could
read it better than ye.'

" l Alas, Reynart, alas ! ' said the Wolf, ' I pray you to leave
your mocking. I am so foul arrayed and sore hurt than an heart
of stone might have pity on me. The Mare with her long leg
had an iron foot, I weened the nails thereof had been letters, and
she hit me at the first stroke six great wounds in my head that
almost it is cloven. Such manner letters shall I never more
desire to read.' ' Dear Erne, is that truth that ye tell me ? I have
great mervaylle. I held you for one of the wisest clerks that
now live. Now I hear well it is true that I long since have read
and heard, that the best clerks ben not the wisest men. The lay
people otherwhile wax wise. The cause that these clerks ben
not the wisest is that they study so much in the cunning and
science that they therein doole.' Thus brought I Isegrim in this
great laste and harm, that he vnneth byhelde his life.

" Lief Nephew now have I told you all my sins that I remember.
Whatsoever falle at the Court — I wote never how it shall stand
with me there — I am not now so sore afraid, for I am clear from

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 107

sin. I will gladly come to mercy and receive penance by your
counsel."

Grymbart said, " The trespasses ben great. Nevertheless who
that is dead must abide dead, and therefore I will forgive it you
altogether, with the fear that ye shall suffer therefor ere ye shall
conne excuse you of the death, and hereupon I will assoil you.
But the most hinder that ye shall have shall be, that ye sent
Cuwart's head to the Court, and that ye blinded the King with
sutthe l lies. Erne, that was right evil done."

The Fox said, " What, lief nephew ! Who that will go through
the world this to hear and that to see and that other to tell, truly
it may not clearly be done. How should any man handle honey
but if he licked his fingers ? I am ofttimes rored and pricked in
my conscience as to love God above all thing and mine even
Crysten as myself, as is to God well acceptable and according to his
law. But how ween ye that reason within forth fighteth against
the outward will, then stand I all still in myself, that me thinketh
I have lost all my wits, and wote not what me aileth, I am then
in such a thought I have now all left my sins, and hate all thing
that is not good, and climb in high contemplation abone his com-
mandments. But this special grace have I when I am alone ;
but in a short while after, when the world cometh in me, then find
I in my way so many stones, and the foot spores2 that these loose
prelates and rich priests go in, that I am anon taken again.
Then cometh the world and will have this; and the flesh will
live pleasantly ; which lay tofore me so many things that I then
lose all my good thoughts and purpose. I hear there sing, pipe,
laugh, play, and all mirth, and I hear that these prelates and rich
curates preach and say all otherwise than they think and do.
There learn I to lie, the leasings ben most used in the lord's
courts ; certainly lords, ladies, priests, and clerks, maken most
leasings. Men dare not tell to the lords now the truth. There is
default. I must flatter and lie also or else I should be shut
without the door. I have often heard men say truth and right-
fully, and have their reason made with a leasing like to their

1 Sutthe, flattering. 2 Spores, tracks.

io8 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

purpose, who brought it in and went through because their matter
should seem the fairer. The leasing ofttimes cometh unavised,
and falleth in the matter unwittingly, and so, when she is well
clad, it goeth forth through with that other.

"Dear Nephew thus must men now lie nere and there, say
sooth, flatter and menace, pray and curse, and seek every man upon
his feeblest and weakest. Who otherwise will now haunt and use
the world than devise a leasing in the fairest wise, and that be-
wimple with kerchiefs about in such wise that men take it for a
truth, he is not run away from his master. Can he that subtilty
in such wise that he stammer not in his words, and may then be
heard, Nephew, this man may do wonder. He may wear scarlet
and grise.1 He winneth in the spiritual law and temporal also, and
wheresomever he hath to do. Now ben there many false shrews
that have great envy that they have so great fardel,2 and ween
that they can also well lie ; and take on them to lie and to tell it
forth. He would fain eat of the fat morsels. But he is not
believed ne heard. And many ben there that be so plump and
foolish that when they ween best to pronounce and show their
matter and conclude, they fall beside and out thereof, and cannot
then help themself, and leave their matter without tail or head ;
and he is acompted for a fool ; and many mock them therewith.
But who can give to his leasing a conclusion, and pronounce it
without tatelying, like as it were written tofore him, and that he
can so blind the people that his leasing shall better be believed
than the truth : that is the man. What cunning is it to say the
truth that is good to do ? How laugh these false subtle shrews
that give counsel, to make these leasings and set them forth,
and maken unright go above right, and maken bills and set
in things that never were thought ne said, and teach men see
through their fingers ; and all for to win money and let their
tongues to hire for to maintain and strengthen their leasings.
Alas, Nephew, this is an evil cunning, of which life-scathe and
hurt may come thereof.

" I say not but that otherwhile men must jape, bourd,3 and lie

1 Grise, fur. 2 Fardel, burden. 3 Bourd, jest.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES.

10$

in small things ; for whoso saith alway truth, he may not now go
nowhere through the world. There ben many that play Placebo.
Whoso alway saith truth, shall find many lettings in his way.
Men may well lie when it is need, and after amend it by counsel.
For all trespasses there is mercy. There is no man so wise, but
he dooleth J other while."

Grymbart said, "Well, dear Erne, what thing shall you let?
Ye know all thing at the narrowest. Ye should bring me hastily
in doting ; your reasons passen my understanding. What need
have ye to shrive you ? Ye should yourself by right be the
priest, and let me and other sheep come to you for to be shriven.
Ye know the state of the world in such wise as no man may halt
tofore you."

With such manner talking they came walking in to the Court.
The Fox sorrowed somewhat in his heart, nevertheless he bare
it out and striked forth through all the folk till he came into the
place where the King himself was.

And Grymbart was alway by the Fox and said, " Erne, be not
afraid, and make good cheer ! Who that is hardy, the adven-
ture helpeth him.2 Ofttimes one day is better than sometime
a whole year."

The Fox said, "Nephew, ye say truth. God thank you, ye
comfort me well."

And forth he went, and looked grimly here and there, as
who saith, " What will ye ? here come L" He saw there many
of his kin standing which yonned3 him but little good, as the
Otter, Beaver, and other to the number of ten whom I shall
name afterward. And some were there that loved him.

The Fox came in and fell down on his knees tofore the King,
and began his words and said : —

1 Dooleth, errs (Dutch, doolen).

2 Fortune favours the bold.

3 Yonned, conceded. First English unnan, to grant.

no THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
How Reynart the Fox excused him before the King.

" GOD from whom nothing may be hid, and above all thing is
mighty, save my Lord the King and my Lady the Queen and
give him grace to know who hath right and who hath wrong. For
there live many in the world that seem otherwise outward than
they be within. I would that God showed openly every man's
misdeeds, and all their trespasses stooden written in their fore-
heads, and it cost me more than I now say ; and that ye, my Lord
the King, knew as much as I do how I dispose me both early and
late in your service. And therefore am I complained on of the
evil shrews, and with leasings am put out of your grace and con-
ceit, and would charge me with great offences, without deserving,
against all right. Wherefore I cry out harowe on them that so
falsely have belied me, and brought me in such trouble. Howbe-
it, I hope and know you both my Lord and my Lady for so wise
and discreet, that ye be not led nor believe such leasings ne
false tales out of the right way, for ye have not be woned so to
do. Therefore, dear Lord, I beseech you to consider by your
wisdom all things by right and law. Is it in deed or in speech,
do every man right I desire no better. He that is guilty and
found faulty, let him be punished. Men shall well know ere I
depart out of this Court who that I am. I cannot flatter, I will
always show openly my head."

How the King answered iipon Reynarfs excuse.

ALL they that were in the palace weren all still and wondered that
the Fox spake so stoutly.

The King said, " Ha, Reynart, how well can ye your fallacy
and salutation doon ! But your fair words may not help you. I
think well that ye shall, this day, for your works be hanged by
your neck. I will not much chide with you, but I shall short
your pain. That ye love us well, that have ye well showed on

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. m

the Cony and on Corbant the Rook. Your falseness and your
false inventions shall without long tarrying make you to die. A
pot may go so long to water, that at the last it cometh tobroken
home. I think your pot, that so oft hath deceived us, shall now
hastily be broken."

Reynart was in great fear of these words. He would well he
had ben at Cologne when he came thither. Then thought he I
must here through, how that I do.

" My Lord the King," said he, " it were well reason that ye
heard my words all out. Though I were dampned to the death,
yet ought ye to hear my words out. I have yet heretofore time
given to you many a good counsel and profitable, and in need
alway have biden by you where other beasts have wyked 1 and
gone their way. If now the evil beasts with false matters have
tofore you with wrong belied me, and I might not come to mine
excuse, ought I not then to plain ? I have tofore this seen that
I should be heard before another; yet might these things well
change and come in their old state. Old good deeds ought to
be remembered. I see here many of my lineage and friends stand-
ing, that seem they set now little by me, which nevertheless
should sore dere2 in their hearts, that ye, my Lord the King,
should destroy me wrongfully. If ye so did, ye should destroy the
truest servant that ye have in all your lands. What ween ye, Sir
King, had I knowen myself guilty in any feat or broke,3 that I
would have comen hither to the law among all mine enemies?
Nay, sire, nay. Not for all the world of red gold. For I was
free and at large. What need had I to do that ? But, God be
thanked, I know myself clear of all misdeeds, that I dare welcome
openly in the light and to answer to all the complaints that any
man can say on me. But when Grymbart brought me first these
tidings, tho was I not well pleased but half from myself, that I
leapt here and there as an unwise man, and had I not been in the
censures of the Church I had without tarrying have comen, but
I went dolynge 4 on the heath, and wist not what to do for sorrow.

1 Wyked, flinched (Dutch, voyken ; German, weichen}.

2 Dere, take hurt. 8 Broke, usage. 4 Dolynge, grieving.

1 12 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

And then it happened that Mertyne, mine Erne, the Ape, met
with me, which is wiser in clergy than some priest. He hath ben
advocate for the Bishop of Cameryk nine year during. He saw
me in this great sorrow and heaviness, and said to me, 'Dear
Cousin, me thinketh ye are not well with yourself, what aileth
you ? Who hath displeased you ? Thing that toucheth charge
ought to be given in knowledge to friends. A true friend is a
great help ; he findeth oft better counsel than he that the charge
resteth on, for whosomever is charged with matters is so heavy
and acombred with them that oft he can not begin to find the
remedy, for such be so woe like as they had lost their inwytte.' l
I said ' Dear Erne, ye say truth, for in likewise is fallen to me. I
am brought into a great heaviness, undeserved and not guilty, by
one to whom I have alway been an hearty and great friend ; that
is the Cony which came to me yesterday in the morning whereas
I sat tofore my house and said matins.'

" He told me he would go to the Court, and saluted me friendly,
and I him again.

" Tho said he to me, c Good Reynart, I am an hungred and
weary. Have ye any meat ? '

" I said, ' Yea, ynowh ; come near.'

" Tho gave I him a couple of manchets 2 with sweet butter. It
was upon a Wednesday, on which day I am not wont to eat any
flesh, and also I fasted because of this feast of Whitsuntide which
approached. For who that will taste of the overest wisehede, and
live ghostly in keeping the commandments of our Lord, he must
fast and make him ready against the high feasts. Et vos estate
parati. Dear Erne, I gave him fair white bread with sweet butter,
wherewith a man might well be eased that were much hungry.

"And when he had eaten his bellyful, tho came Rossel, my
youngest son, and would have taken away that was left. For
young children would alway fain eten. And with that he tasted
for to have taken somewhat, the Cony smote Rossel tofore his
mouth that his teeth bled, and he fell down half aswoon. When

1 Inwytte, inner consciousness.

2 Manchets, small loaves of white bread.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 113

Reynardyn, mine eldest son, saw that, he sprang to the Cony and
caught him by the head, and should have slain him had I not
rescued him. I helped him, that he went from him, and beat my
child sore therefor.

" Lapreel the Cony ran to my Lord the King and said I would
have murdered him. See, Erne, thus come I in the words and
I am laid in the blame. And yet he complaineth, and I plain not.

"After this came Corban the Rook fleeing with a sorrowful
noise. I asked what him ailed.

" And he said, ' Alas my wife is dead. Yonder lieth a dead
hare full of moths and worms, and there she ate so much thereof
that the worms have bitten atwo her throat.'

" I asked him how cometh that by. He would not speak a
word more, but flew his way, and let me stand.

" Now saith he that I have bitten and slain her. How should
I come so nigh her ? For she fleeth and I go afoot. Behold, dear
Erne, thus I am born on hand. I may say well that I am un-
happy. But peradventure it is for mine old sins. It were good
for me if I could patiently suffer it.

" The Ape said to me, ' Nephew, ye shall go to the Court to-
fore the lords, and excuse you.'

" ' Alas, Erne, that may not be, for the Archdeacon hath put
me in the Pope's curse because I counselled Isegrim the Wolf
for to leave his religion at Elmare and forsake his habit. He
complained to me that he lived so straitly, as in long fasting, and
many things reading and singing, that he could not endure it ; if
he should long abide there, he should die. I had pity of his com-
plaining, and I holpe him as a true friend, that he came out.
Which now me sore repenteth, for he laboureth all that he can
against me to the King for to do me be hanged. Thus doth he
evil for good. See, Erne, thus am I at the end of all my wits
and of counsel. For I must go to Rome for an absolution, and
then shall my wife and children suffer much harm and blame.
For these evil beasts that hate me shall do to them all the hurt
they may, and fordrive them where they can. And I would well
defend them if I were free of the curse, for then I would go to

H

ii4 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

the Court and excuse me, where now I dare not. I should do
great sin if I came among the good people, I am afraid God should
plague me.'

" ' Nay, cousin, be not afraid. Ere I should suffer you in this
sorrow, I know the way to Rome well. I understand me on this
work. I am called there Mertyne the bishop's clerk, and am well
beknowen there. I shall do cite the Archdeacon and take a plea
against him, and shall bring with me for you an absolution against
his will, for I know there all that is for to be done or left. There
dwelleth Simon, mine Erne, which is great and mighty there.
Who that may give aught, he helpeth him anon. There is Pren-
tout, Wayte, Scathe, and other of my friends and allies. Also I
shall take some money with me if I need any. The prayer is
with gifts hardy l ; with money alway the right goeth forth. A true
friend shall for his friend adventure both life and good, and so
shall I for you in your right. Cousin, make good cheer ! I shall
not rest after to-morrow till I come to Rome, and I shall solicit
your matters. And go ye to the Court as soon as ye may. All
your misdeeds and the sins that have brought you in the great
sentence and curse, I make you quit of them and take them in
myself. When ye come to the Court ye shall find there Rukenawe
my wife, her two sisters, and my three children, and many more
of our lineage. Dear cousin, speak to them hardily. My wife is
sondrely 2 wise, and will gladly do somewhat for her friends. Who
that hath need of help shall find in her great friendship. One
shall alway seek on his friends, though he hath angered them, for
blood must creep where it cannot go. And if so be that ye be
so overcharged that ye may have no right, then send to me by
night and day to the Court of Rome, and let me have knowledge
thereof, and all tho that ben in the land, is it King or Queen,
wife or man, I shall bring them all in the Pope's Curse and send
there an interdict that no man shall read ne singen ne christen
children, ne bury the dead, ne receive sacrament, till that ye
shall have good right. Cousin, this shall I well get, for the
Pope is so sore old that he is but little set by, and the cardinal
1 Hardy, bold. 2 Sondrely, peculiarly.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES, 115

of Pure Gold hath all the might of the Court. He is young and
great of friends, he hath a concubine whom he much loveth, and
what she desireth that getteth she anon. See, Cousin, she is mine
niece, and I am great and may do much with her, in such wise
what I desire I fail not of it but am alway furthered therein.
Wherefore, Cousin, bid my Lord the King that he do you right
I wote well he will not warn J you, for the right is heavy enough to
every man.'

" My Lord the King, when I heard this I laughed, and with
great gladness came hither, and have told you all truth. If there
be any in this Court that can lay on me any other matter with
good witness, and prove it, as ought to be to a noble man, let
me then make amends according to the law ; and if ye will not
leave off hereby, then set me day and field, and I shall make good
on him all so ferre as he be of as good birth as I am and to me like,
and who that can with fighting get the worship of the field, let him
have it. This right hath standen yet hitherto, and I will not it
should be broken by me. The law and right doth no man wrong."

All the beasts both poor and rich were all still when the Fox
spake so stoutly. The Cony Lapreel and the Rook were so sore
afraid that they durst not speak, but piked and striked them out
of the Court both two, and when they were a room far in the
plain they said, " God grant that this fell murderer may fare evil.
He can bewrap and cover his falsehood, that his words seem
as true as the gospel. Hereof knoweth no man than we : how
should we bring witness. It is better that we wyke 2 and depart,
than we should hold a field and fight with him ; he is so shrewd,
yea though there of us were five we could not defend us, but that
he should slay us all."

Isegrim the Wolf and Bruin the Bear were woe in themself
when they saw these twain room the court.

The King said, " If any man will complain, let him come forth,
and we shall hear him : yesterday camen here so many, where
ben they now Reynart is here ? "

The Fox said, " My Lord, there ben many that complain that
1 Warn, refuse. 2 Wyke, flinch, yield*

n6 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

and if they saw their adversary they would be still and make no
plaint ; witness now of Lapreel the Cony and Corbant the Rook,
which have complained on me to you in my absence, but now
that I am comen in your presence they flee away, and dare not
abide by their words. If men should believe false shrews it
should do much harm and hurt to the good men, as for me it
skilleth not. Nevertheless, my lord, if they had by your com-
mandment asked of me forgiveness, how be it they have greatly
trespassed, yet I had for your sake pardoned and forgive them ;
for I will not be out of charity, ne hate ne complain on mine
enemies. But I set all thing in God's hand, he shall work and
avenge it as it pleaseth him."

The King said, " Reynart, me thinketh ye be grieved as ye
say. Are ye withinforth as ye seem outward ? Nay, it is not so
clear ne so open, nowhere nigh, as ye here have showed. I must
say what my grief is, which toucheth your worship and life, that
is to wit that you have done a foul and shameful trespass when
I had pardoned you all your offences and trespasses, and ye pro-
mised to go over the sea on pilgrimage, and gave to you male and
staff. And after this ye sent me by Bellyn the Ram the male
again and therein Cuwart's Head. How might ye do a more
reprovable trespass ? How were ye so hardy to dare to me do
such a shame? Is it not evil done to send to a lord his ser-
vant's head ? Ye cannot say nay hereagainst, for Bellyn the
Ram, which was our chaplain, told us all the matter how it
happed ? Such reward as he had when he brought us the mes-
sage, the same shall ye have, or right shall fail."

Tho was Reynart so sore afraid that he wist not what to say.
He was at his wit's end, and looked about him piteously, and saw
many of his kin and allies that heard all this, but nought they
said. He was all pale in his visage, but no man proffered him
hand ne foot to help him.

The King said, "Thou subtle fellow and false shrew, why
speakest thou not ? Now dumb ? "

The Fox stood in great dread, and sighed sore that all heard
him. But the Wolf and the Bear were glad thereof.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 117

CHAPTER XXIX.

How Dame Rukenawe answered for the Fox to the King.

DAME Rukenawe the She Ape, Reynart's Aunt, was not well
pleased. She was great with the Queen and well beloved. It
happened well for the Fox that she was there, for she understood
all wisdom, and she durst well speak, where as it to do was.
Wherever she came everich was glad of her.

She said, " My Lord the King, ye ought not to be angry when
ye sit in judgment, for that becometh not your nobleness. A man
that sitteth in judgment ought to put from him all wrath and
anger. A lord ought to have discretion that should sit in justice.
I know better the points of the law than some that wear furred
gowns, for I have learned many of them and was made cunning
in the law. I had in the Pope's palace of Woerden a good bed
of hay, where other beasts lay on the hard ground, and also when
I had there to do I was suffered to speak, and was heard tofore
another because I knew so well the law. Seneca writeth that a
lord shall overall do right and law, he shall charge none to whom
he hath given his safeguard to above the right and law ; the law
ought not to halt for no man. And every man that standeth here
would well bethink him what he hath done and bedriven l in his
days, he should the better have patience and pity on Reynart.
Let every man know him self, that is my counsel. There is none
that standeth so surely but otherwhile he falleth or slideth. Who
that never misdid ne sinned is holy and good, and hath no need
to amend him. When a man doth amiss and then by counsel
amendeth it, that is humanly and so ought he to do ; but alway
to misdo and trespass and not to amend him, that is evil and a
devily life. Mark then what is written in the gospel, Estate
misericordes, be ye merciful; yet standeth there more, NottU
judicare et non judicabimini, deem ye no man and ye shall not be
deemed. There standeth also how the pharisees brought a woman
taken in adultery and would have stoned her to death. They
1 Bedriven, experienced (Dutch, bedreven).

n8 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

asked Our Lord what he said thereto ; he said, c Who of you all is
without sin let him cast the first stone.' Tho abode no man but
left her there standing. Me thinketh it is so here. There be
many that see a straw in another's eye that can not see a balke
in his own. There be many that deem other, and himself is
worst of all. Though one fall oft, and at last ariseth up and
cometh to mercy, he is not thereof damned. God receiveth all
them that desire his mercy. Let no man condemn another though
they wist that he had done amiss ; yet let them see their own
defaults, and then may they themself correct first, and then
Reynart my Cousin should not fare the worse. For his father
and his grandfather have alway been in more love and reputation
in this Court than Isegrim the Wolf or Bruin the Bear with all
their friends and lineage. It hath been heretofore an unlike
comparison, the wisdom of Reynart my Cousin, and the honour
and worship of him, that he hath done, and the counsel of them ;
for they know not how the world goeth. Me thinketh this Court
is all turned upside down. These false shrews, flatterers, and de-
ceivers, arise and wax great by the lordes, and ben enhanced up ;
and the good, true, and wise ben put down, for they have been
wont to counsel truly and for the honour of the King. I can-
not see how this may stand long."

Then said the King, " Dame, if he had done to you such tres-
pass as he hath done to other it should repent you. Is it wonder
that I hate him ? He breaketh away my safeguard. Have ye
not heard the complaints that here have been showed of him, of
murder, of theft, and of treason ? Have ye such trust in him ?
Think ye that he is thus good and clear ? then set him up on the
altar, and worship and pray to him as to a saint. But there is
none in all the world that can say any good of him ; ye may say
much for him, but in the end ye shall find him all nought. He
hath neither kin ne one friend that will enterprise to help him.
He hath so deserved. I have great marvel of you. I heard
never of none that hath fellowshipped with him that ever
thanked him or said any good of him, save you now, but alway
he hath striked them with his tail."

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 119

Then the She Ape answered and said, " My lord, I love him
and have him in great charity. And also I know a good deed
that he once in your presence did, whereof ye could him great
thank. Though now it be thus turned, yet shall the heaviest
weigh most. A man shall love his friend by measure, and not his
enemy hate overmuch. Steadfastness and constancy is fitting and
behoveth to the lords, how soever the world turneth. Me ought
not to praise too much the day, till even be come. Good counsel
is good for him that will do thereafter.

CHAPTER XXX.

A parable of a Man that delivered a Serpent from peril of death.

" Now two year past came a Man and a Serpent here into this
Court for to have judgment, which was to you and yours right
doubtful. The Serpent stood in an hedge whereas he supposed
to have gone through, but he was caught in a snare by the neck
that he might not escape without help, but should have lost his
life there. The Man came forth by, and the Serpent called to
him and cried, and prayed the Man that he would help him out
of the snare, or else he must there die.

" The Man had pity of him, and said, ' If thou promise to me
that thou wilt not envenom me, ne do me none harm ne hurt, I
shall help thee out of this peril.'

" The Serpent was ready, and swore a great oath that he now
ne never should do him harm ne hurt.

" Then he unloosed him and delivered him out of the snare.
And they went forth together a good while that the Serpent had
great hunger, for he had not eaten a great while tofore, and sterte
to the Man and would have slain him. The Man sterte away and
was afraid, and said, ' Wilt thou now slay me ? hast thou forgotten
the oath that thou madest to me that thou shouldest not misdo.
ne hurt me ? '

" The Serpent answered, ' I may do it good tofore all the world
that I do. The need of hunger may cause a man to break his oath.7

120 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

" The Man said, ' If it may be not better, give me so long re-
spite till we meet and find that may judge the matter by right.'

"The Serpent granted thereto. Thus they went together so
long that they found Tyseln the Raven and Slyndpere his son ;
there rehearsed they their reasons.

" Tyseln the Raven judged anon that he should eat the Man.
He would fain have eaten his part, and his son also.

" The Serpent said to the Man, « How is it now ? What think
ye ? Have I not won ? '

" The Man said, * How should a robber judge this ? He should
have avail thereby. And also he is alone : there must be two or
three at least together, and that they understand the right and
law, and that done let the sentence gon ; I am nevertheless ill
on enough.'

" They agreed and went forth both together so long that they
found the Bear and the Wolf, to whom they told their matter.

" And they anon judged that the Serpent should slay the Man.
For the need of hunger breaketh oath alway. The Man then was
in great doubt and fear, and the Serpent came and cast his venom
at him ; but the Man leapt away from him with great pain, and
said, ' Ye do great wrong that ye thus lie in await to slay me. Ye
have no right thereto.'

" The Serpent said, ' Is it not enough yet ? It hath been twice
judged.'

" * Yea,' said the Man, ' that is of them that ben wont to murder
and rob. All that ever they swear and promise they hold not.
But I appeal this matter into the Court tofore our Lord the King,
and that thou mayst not forsake.1 And what judgment that shall
be given there, shall I obey and suffer, and never do the contrary.'

" The Bear and the Wolf said that it should be so, and that
the Serpent desired no better. They supposed if it should come
tofore you it should go there as they would. I trow ye be well
remembered hereof. Tho came they all to the Court tofore you ;
and the Wolfs two children came with their father, which were
called Empty Belly and Never Full, because they would eat of

1 Forsake, deny.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 121

the Man ; for they howled for great hunger. Wherefore ye com-
manded them to avoid your Court.

" The Man stood in great dread, and called upon your good
grace, and told how the Serpent would have taken his life from
him, to whom he had saved his life, and that, above his oath and
promise, he would have devoured him.

"The Serpent answered, 'I have not trespassed, and that I
report me wholly unto the King. For I did it to save my life, for
need of life one may break his oath and promise.'

" My Lord that time were ye and all your Council herewith
accombred. For your noble grace saw the great sorrow of the
Man, and ye would not that a man should for his gentleness and
kindness be judged to death. And on that other, sith hunger,
and need to save the life, seeketh narrowly to be holpen, here
was none in all the Court that could ne knew the right hereof.
There were some that would fain the Man had be holpen. I see
them here standing. I wot well they said that they could not
end this matter.

" Then commanded ye that Reynart, my nephew, should come
and say his advice in this matter. That time was he above all
other believed and heard in this Court, and ye bade him give
sentence according to the best right and we all shall follow him,
for he knew the ground of the law.

"Reynart said, 'My Lord, it is not possible to give a true
sentence after their words, for in hearsaying ben oft leasings.
But and if I might see the Serpent in the same peril and need
that he was in when the Man loosed him and unbound, then
wist I well what I should say. And who that would do other-
wise he should misdo against right.'

" Then said ye, my Lord, { Reynart, that is well said. We all
accord hereto ; for no man can say better.'

" Then went the Man and the Serpent into the place whereas
he found the Serpent. Reynart bade that the Serpent should be
set in the snare in likewise as he was. And it was done.

" Then said ye, my Lord, ' Reynart, how thinketh you now ?
What judgment shall we give ? '

122 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

" Then said Reynart the Fox, ' My Lord, now ben they both
like as they were tofore. They have neither won ne lost. See,
my Lord, how I judge for a right, also ferre as it shall please your
noble grace. If the Man will now loose and unbind the
Serpent, upon the promise and oath that he tofore made to him,
he may well do it. But if he think that he for anything should
be encumbered or hindered by the Serpent, or for need of hunger
would break his oath and promise, then judge I that the Man may
go freely where he will, and let the Serpent abide still bounden,
like as he might have done at the beginning : for he would have
broken his oath and promise, whereas he holp him out of such
fearful peril. Thus thinketh me a rightful judgment that the
Man shall have his free choice like as he tofore had.'

" Lo my Lord this judgment thought you good, and all your
council which at that time were by you ; and followed the same, and
praised Reynart's wisdom, that he had made the Man quit and
free. Thus the Fox wisely kept your noble honour and worship,
as a true servant is bound to do to his Lord. Where hath the
Bear or the Wolf done ever to you so much worship ? They
conne well huylen and blasen, steal and rob, and eat fat morsels
and fill their bellies, and then judge they for right and law that
small thieves that steal hens and chickens should be hanged,* but
they themself that steal kine, oxen, and horses, they shall go quit
and be lords. And same as though they were wiser than Solomon,
Avicene, or Aristoteles ; and each will be holden high proud,
and praised of great deeds and hardy ; but and they come where
as it is to do, they ben the first that flee. Then must the simple
go forth tofore, and they keep the reward behind. Och, my Lord,
these and other like to them be not wise, but they destroy town,
castle, land, and people. They reck not whose house burneth,
so that they may warm them by the coals. They seek all their
own avail and singular profit. But Reynart the Fox and all his
friends and lineage sorowen1 and think to prefer the honour,
worship, fordeel,2 and profit of their lord, and for wise counsel

1 Sorowen, take care.

2 Fordeel, advantage (Dutch, Voordeel ; German, Vortheil}.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 123

which oft more profiteth here than pride and boast. This doth
Reynart, though he have no thank. At long it shall be well
known who is best and doth most profit. My Lord, ye say that
his kin and lineage draw all afterward from him, and stand not by
him for his falsehood and deceivable and subtle touches. I
would another had said that ; there should then such wrake be
taken thereof that him might growl that ever he saw him. But,
my Lord, we will forbear you ; ye may save your pleasure ; and
also I say it not by you. Were there any that would bedrive
anything against you, with words or with werkes, him that would
we so do to, that men should say we had been there. There as
fighting is, we ben not wont to be afraid. My Lord, by your
leave, I may well give you knowledge of Reynart's friends and
kin. There ben many of them that for his sake and love will
adventure life and good. I know myself for one. I am a wife.
I should, if he had need, set my life and good for him. Also I
have three full waxen children which ben hardy and strong, whom
I would all together adventure for his love, rather than I should
see him destroyed ; yet had I liever die than I saw them mis-
carry tofore mine eyes, so well love I them.

CHAPTER XXXI.
Which ben friends and kin unto Reynart the Fox.

" THE first child is named Bytelouse, which is much cherished
and can make much sport and game, wherefore is given to him
the fat trenchours and much other good meat, which cometh well
to profit of Fulrompe his brother. And also my third child is a
daughter, and is named Hatenit, she can well pick out lice and
nits out of men's heads. These three ben to each other true,
wherefore I love them well."

Dame Rukenawe called them forth and said, " Welcome, my
dear children : to me forth, and stand by Reynart, your dear
nephew."

124 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

Then said she, " Come forth all ye that be of my kin and
Reynart's, and let us pray the King that he will do to Reynart
right of the land."

Tho came forth many a beast anon, as the Squirrel, the Musk-
rat, the Fitchews, the Marten, the Beaver with his wife Ordegale,
the Genete,1 the Otter, the Boussyng, and the Ferret, these
twain eat as fain polaylle as doth Reynart. The Otter and Pante-
croet his wife, whom I had almost forgotten, yet were they tofore,
with the Beaver, enemies to the Fox, but they durst not gainsay
Dame Rukenawe, for they were afraid of her. She was also the
wisest of all his kin of counsel and was most doubted.2 There
came also more than twenty other, because of her, for to stand
by Reynart. There came also Dame Atrote with her two sisters,
Weasel and Hermelin, the Ass, the Badger, the Water-rat, and
many more to the number of forty, which all camen and stoden
by Reynart the Fox.

" My Lord the King," said Rukenawe, " come and see here if
Reynart have any friends. Here may ye see we ben your true
subjects, which for you would adventure both life and good if ye
had need. Though ye be hardy, mighty, and strong, our well-
willed friendship cannot hurt you. Let Reynart the Fox well
bethink him upon these matters that ye have laid against him,
and if he cannot excuse them, then do him right. We desire no
better. And this by right ought to no man be warned." 3

The Queen then spake, " This said I to him yesterday. But
he was so fierce and angry that he would not hear it."

The Leopard said also, " Sire, ye may judge no further than
your men give their verdict ; for if ye would go forth by will and
might, that were not worshipful for your estate. Hear always
both parties, and then by the best and wisest counsel give judg-
ment discreetly according to the best right."

The King said, "This is all true, but I was so sore moved
when I was informed of Cuwart's death and saw his head, that I
was hot and hasty. I shall hear the Fox. Can he answer and

1 The genete is related to the civet cat.

2 Doubted, feared. 3 Warned, refused.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 125

excuse him of that is laid against him, I shall gladly let him go
quit ; and also at request of his good friends and kin."

Reynart was glad of these words, and thought, God thank mine
Aunt, she hath the rys do blosme again.1 She hath well holpen
me forth now. I have now a good foot to dance on. I shall
now look out of mine eyen, and bring forth the fairest leasing
that ever man heard, and bring myself out of this danger.

CHAPTER XXXII.

How the Fox with subtlety excused him for the death of Cuwart the
Hare and of all other matters that ivere laid against him^ and
how with flattering he gat again his peace of the King.

THEN spake Reynart the Fox and said, " Alas, what say ye ! is
Cuwart dead ? And where is Bellyn the Ram ? What brought
he to you when he came again ? For I delivered to him three
jewels ; I would fain know where they ben becomen. That one
of them should he have given to you, my Lord the King, and the
other two to my Lady the Queen."

The King said, " Bellyn brought us nought else but Cuwart's
head, like as I said you tofore ; whereof I took on him wrake.
I made him to lose his life, for the foul caitiff said to me that he
himself was of the counsel of the letters making that were in the
male."

" Alas, my lord, is this very truth ? Woe to me caitiff that ever
I was bom ! Sith that these good jewels be thus lost, mine heart
will break for sorrow. I am sorry that I now live ! What shall
my wife say when she heareth hereof? She shall go out of her
wit for sorrow . I shall never, all so long as I live, have her friend-
ship. She shall make much sorrow when she heareth thereof." .

The She Ape said, " Reynart, dear Nephew, what profiteth that
ye make all this sorrow ? Let it pass, and tell us what these jewels
were. Peradventure we shall find counsel to have them again.
If they be above earth Master Akeryn shall labour for them in

1 She has made the twig blossom again.

126 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

his books, and also we shall curse for them in all the churches,
unto the time that we have knowledge where they been. They
may not be lost."

" Nay, Aunt, think not that, for they that have them will not
lightly depart from them. There was never King that ever gave
so rich jewels as these be. Nevertheless ye have somewhat with
your words eased mine heart and made it lighter than it was.
Alas, lo, here ye may see how he or they to whom a man trusteth
most is often by him or them deceived. Though I should go all
the world through, and my life in adventure set therefor, I shall
wit where these jewels ben becomen."

With a dismalled and sorrowful speech, said the Fox : " Hearken
ye all my kin and friends, I shall name to you these jewels what
they were, and then may ye say that I have a great loss. That
one of them was a ring of fine gold, and within the ring next the
finger were written letters enamelled with sable and azure, and
there were three Hebrew names therein. I could not myself read
ne spell them, for I understand not that language; but Master
Abrion of Trier he is a wise man, he understandeth well all
manner of languages and the virtue of all manner herbs, and
there is no beast so fierce ne strong but he can dompte him, for
if he see him once he shall do as he will, and yet he believeth not
on God. He is a Jew, the wisest in conning, and specially he
knoweth the virtue of stones. I showed him once this ring. He
said that they were tho three names that Seth brought out of Para-
dise when he brought to his father Adam the Oyle of Mercy, and
whosomever beareth on him these three names he shall never be
hurt by thunder ne lightning, ne no witchcraft shall have power
over him, ne be tempted to do sin. And also he shall never take
harm by cold though he lay three winters long nights in the field,
though it snowed, stormed, or frore, never so sore, so great might
have these words, witness of Master Abrion. Without forth on
the ring stood a stone of three manner colours ; the one part was
like red crystal, and shone like as fire had been therein, in such
wise that if one would go by night him behoved none other light,
for the shining of the stone made and gave as great a light as it?

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 127

had been midday ; that other part of the stone was white and
clear as it had been burnished, who so had in his eyen any smart
or soreness, or in his body any swelling, or headache, or any sick-
ness, withoutforth if he striked this stone on the place where the
grief is he shall anon be whole ; or if any man be sick in his body
of venom, or ill meat in his stomach, of colic, strangulation, stone,
fistel, or cancer, or any other sickness, save only the very death,
let him lay this stone in a little water and let him drink it, and
he shall forthwith be whole and all quit of his sickness. Alas,"
said the Fox, " we have good cause to be sorry to lose such a
jewel! Furthermore the third colour was green like glass, but
there were some sprinkles therein like purple ; the master told
for truth, that who that bare this stone upon him should never
be hurt of his enemy, and was no man, were he never so strong
and hardy, that might misdo him ; and wherever that he fought he
should have victory, were it by night or by day, also ferre as he
beheld it fasting ; and also thereto, wheresomever he went and in
what fellowship, he should be beloved, though he had hated him
tofore, if he had the ring upon him they should forget their anger
as soon as they saw him. Also though he were all naked in a
field again an hundred armed men, he should be well hearted and
escape from them with worship ; but he must be a noble gentle-
man and have no churl's conditions, for then the stone had
no might. And because this stone was so precious and good,
I thought in myself that I was not able ne worthy to bear it, and
therefore I sent it to my dear Lord the King, for I know him for
the most noble that now liveth, and also all our welfare and wor-
ship lieth on him, and for he should be kept from all dread, need,
and ungheluck.1

" I found this ring in my father's treasure, and in the same
place I took a glass or a mirror and a comb which my wife would
algates have. A man might wonder that saw these jewels. I
sent these to my Lady the Queen, for I have founden her good
and gracious to me. This Comb might not be too much praised.
It was made of the bone of a clean noble beast named Panthera,

1 Ungheluck, misfortune (ungliick).

128 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

which feedeth him between the great Inde and Earthly Paradise.
He is so lusty fair and of colour, that there is no colour under the
heaven but some likeness is in him ; thereto he smelleth so sweet,
that the savour of him boteth l all sickness ; and for his beauty and
sweet smelling all other beasts follow him, for by his sweet savour
they ben healed of all sickness. This Panthera hath a fair bone,
broad and thin ; when so is that this beast is slain all the sweet
odour rested in the bone, which cannot be broken, ne shall never
rot, ne be destroyed by fire, by water, ne by smiting, it is so
hardy, tight and fast, and yet it is light of weight. The sweet odour
of it hath great might ; that who that smelleth it sette nought by
none other lust in the world, and is eased and quit of all manner
diseases and infirmities, and also he is jocund and glad in his
heart. This Comb is polished as it were fine silver, and the teeth
of it be small and strait, and between the greater teeth and the
smaller is a large field and space where is carven many an image
subtilly made and enamelled about with fine gold; the field is
checked with sable and silver, enamelled with cybore 2 and azure,
and therein is the history how Venus, Juno, and Pallas strove for
the apple of gold which each of them would have had, which con-
troversy was set upon Paris that he should give it to the fairest
of them three.

" Paris was that time an herdman, and kept his father's beasts
and sheep without Troy. When he had received the apple, Juno
promised to him if he would judge that she might have the apple,
he should have the most riches of the world. Pallas said if she
might have the apple she would give him wisdom and strength,
and make him so great a lord that he should overcome all his
enemies and whom he would. Venus said, c What needest thou
riches or strength, art not thou Priamus' son, and Hector is thy
brother, which have all Asia under their power ? Art not thou
one of the possessors of great Troy ? If thou wilt give to me the
apple, I shall give thee the richest treasure of the world, and that

1 Boteth, is boot for, remedies.

3 Cybore, "cyboire" was the decorated case that contained the consecrated
elements of the host. From Greek

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 129

shall be the fairest woman that ever had life on earth, ne never
shall none be born fairer than she. Then shalt thou be richer
than rich, and shalt climb above all other, for that is the treasure
that no man can prize enough ; for honest fair and good women
can put away many a sorrow from the heart, they be shamefast
and wise, and bring a man in very joy and bliss.' Paris heard
this Venus, which presented him this great joy and fair lady, and
prayed her to name this fair lady that was so fair, and where she
was. Venus said, ' It is Helen, King Menelaus' wife of Greece,
there liveth not a nobler, richer, gentler, ne wiser wife in all the
world. Then Paris gave to her the apple, and said that she was
fairest. How that he gat afterward Helen by the help of Venus,
and how he brought her in to Troy and wedded her, the great love
and jolly life that they had together, was all carven in the field,
everything by himself, and the story written.

" Now ye shall hear of the Mirror. The glass that stood thereon
was of such virtue that men might see therein all that was done
within a mile, of men of beasts and of all thing that me would l
desire to wit and know. And what man looked in the glass, had
he only disease of pricking or motes, smart, or pearls in his eyen,
he should be anon healed of it, such great virtue had the glass.
Is it then wonder if I be moved and angry for to lose such
manner jewels ? The tree in which this glass stood was light and
fast and was named Cetyne.2 It should endure ever ere it would
rot, or worms should hurt it, and therefore King Solomon ceiled
his temple with the same wood withinforth. Men praised it dearer
than fine gold ; it is like to tree of hebenus, of which wood King
Crompart made his horse of tree for love of King Morcadigas'
daughter that was so fair, whom he had weened for to have won.
That horse was so made within, that whosoever rode on it, if
he would, he should be within less than one hour an hundred
miles thence ; and that was well proved, for Cleomedes the king's
son would not believe that that horse of tree had such might and
virtue. He was young, lusty, and hardy, and desired to do great

1 Me would, one would. "Man" and "me" were our Teutonic forms for the
French "on." 2 Shittim woodi

1

130 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

deeds of praise for to be renowned in this world, and leapt on
this horse of tree. Crompart turned a pin that stood on his
breast, and anon the horse lift him up and went out of the hall
by the window, and ere one might say his pater noster he was
gone more than ten mile away. Cleomedes was sore afraid, and
supposed never to have turned again, as the history1 thereof
telleth more plainly. But how great dread he had, and how far
that he rode upon that horse made of the tree of hebenus ere he
could know the art and craft how he should turn him ; and how
joyful he was when he knew it ; and how men sorrowed for him ;
and how he knew all this, and the joy thereof when he came
again, all this I pass over for losing of time ; but the most part
of all came to by the virtue of the wood, of which wood the tree
that the glass stood in was made. And that was, without forth of
the glass, half a foot broad, wherein stood some strange histories,
which were of gold, of sable, of silver, of yellow, azure, and
cynope, these six colours were therein wrought in such wise as it
behoved ; and under every history the words were graven and
enamelled, that every man might understand what each history
was. After my judgment there was never mirror so costly, so
lustly, ne so pleasant. In the beginning stood there an Horse,
made fat, strong, and sore envious upon an Hart which ran in the
field so far and swiftly that the Horse was angry that he ran so
far tofore him and could not overtake him. He thought he
should catch him and subdue him, though he should suffer much
pain therefor. The Horse spake tho to a Herdman in this wise,
' If thou could st taken an Hart that I well can show thee, thou
shouldst have great profit thereof; thou shouldst sell dear his
horns, his skin, and his flesh.' The Herdman said, ' How may I
come by him ? ' The Horse said, ' Sit upon me, and I shall bear
thee, and we shall hunt him till he be take.' The Herdman
sprang and sat upon the Horse, and saw the Hart ; and he rode
after ; but the Hart was light of foot and swift, and outran the
Horse far. They hunted so far after him that the Horse was
weary, and said to the Herdman that sat on him, ' Now sit off,
1 The romance of Clyomon and Clamydes.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 131

I will rest me, I am all weary, and give me leave to go from thee.'
The Herdman said, 'I have arrested thee; thou mayst not
escape from me ; I have a bridle on thy head and spurs on my
heels; thou shalt never have thank hereof; I shall bedwyngeand
subdue thee, hadst thou sworn the contrary/

" See how the Horse brought himself in thraldom and was
taken in his own net. How may one better be taken than by his
own proper envy suffer himself to be taken and ridden. There
ben many that labour to hurt other, and they themselven ben hurt
and rewarded with the same.

" There was also made an Ass and an Hound which dwelled
both with a rich man. The man loved his Hound well, for he
played oft with him as folk do with Hounds. The Hound leapt
up and played with his tail, and licked his master about the
mouth. This saw Howdwin the Ass, and had great spite thereof
in his heart, and said to himself, ' How may this be ? and what
may my lord see on his foul Hound, whom I never see doth
good ne profit save springeth on him and kisseth him ? But me,
whom men putten to labour, to bear and draw and do more in a
week than he with his fifteen should do in a whole year, — and
yet sitteth he nevertheless by him at the table and there eateth
bones, flesh, and fat trenchours, — and I have nothing but thistles
and nettles, and lie on nights on the hard earth, and suffer many
a scorn. I will no longer suffer this. I will think how I may
get my lord's love and friendship, like as the Hound doth. There-
with came the lord, and the Ass lift up his tail and sprang with
his fore feet on the lord's shoulders and blared, grinned, and sang,
and with his feet made two great boles about his ears, and put
forth his mouth and would have kissed the lord's mouth as he
had seen the Hound done. Tho cried the lord, sore afraid,
' Help ! help ! this Ass will slay me ! ' Then came his servants
with staves and smiten and beat the Ass so sore that he had
weened he should have lost his life. Tho returned he to his stable
and ate thistle and nettles and was an Ass as he tofore was. In
likewise whoso have enough and spite of another's welfare, and were
served in likewise, it should be well behoveful. Therefore it is

132 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

concluded that the Ass shall eat thistles and nettles and bear the
sack. Though men would do him worship he cannot understand
it, but must use old lewd manners. Whereas asses getten lord-
ships, there men see seldom good rule. For they take heed of
nothing but on their singular profit; yet ben they take up and
risen great, the more pity is.

" Hearken further how my father and Tybert the Cat went to-
gether, and had sworn by their truth that for love ne hate they
should not depart. And what they gat they should depart to
each the half. Then on a time they saw hunters coming over the
field with many hounds. They leapt and ran fast from themward
all that they might, as they that were afraid of their life.

"'Tybert,' said the Fox, 'whither shall we now best flee? the
hunters have espied us. Know ye any help ? ' My father trusted
on the promise that each made to other, and that he would for
no need depart from him. ' Tybert,' said he, ' I have a sackful of
wiles if we have need ; as far as we abide together we need not
to doubt hunters ne hounds.'

" Tybert began to sigh and was sore afraid, and said, ' Reynart,
what availlen many words ? I know but one wile, and thither
must I too.'

" And tho clamb he up on a high tree into the top under the
leaves, whereas hunter ne hound might do him none harm, and
left my father alone in jeopardy of his life, for the hunters set on
him the hounds all that they could. Men blew the horns, and
cried, and hallooed, ' The Fox ! Slee and take ! ' AVhen Tybert
the Cat saw that, he mocked and scorned my father and said,
' What, Reynart, cousin, unbind now your sack where all the
wiles ben in ! It is now time. Ye be so wise called ; help your-
self, for ye have need.'

" This much must my father hear of him to whom he had most
his trust on, and was almost taken, and nigh his death. And he
ran and fled with great fear of his life, and let his male slide off
because he would be the lighter. Yet all that could not help
him, for the hounds were too swift and should have bitten
him ; but he had one adventure that thereby he found an

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 133

old hole, wherein he crept, and escaped thus the hunters and
hounds.

" Thus held this false deceiver Tybert his sykernes that he had
promised. Alas, how many ben there now a days that keep not
their promise, and set not thereby though they break it ! And
though I hate Tybert herefor, is it wonder? But I do not.
Sikerly, I love my soul too well thereto. Nevertheless, if I saw
him in adventure and misfall in his body or in his goods, I trow
it should not much go to my heart, so that another did it. Never-
theless, I shall neither hate him ne have envy at him. I shall,
for God's love, forgive him. Yet is it not so clear out of mine
heart but a little ill-will to himward abideth therein as this cometh
to my remembrance ; and the cause is that the sensuality of my
flesh fighteth against reason.

" Ther stood also in that Mirror, of the Wolf, how he found
once upon a heath a dead horse flayen, but all the flesh was eaten.
Then went he and bote great morsels of the bones, that for
hunger he took three or four at once and swallowed them in, for
he was so greedy that one of the bones stack thwart in his mouth.
Whereof he had great pain, and was of great fear of his life. He
sought all about for wise masters and surgeons, and promised
great gifts for to be healed of his disease. At last, when he could
nowhere find remedy, he came to the Crane with his long neck
and bill, and prayed him to help him, and he would love and
reward him so well that he should ever be the better. The
Crane hearked after this great reward, and put his head into his
throat, and brought out the bone with his bill.

" The Wolf start aside with the plucking, and cried out, ' Alas,
thou doest me harm ! but I forgive it thee. Do no more so, I
would not suffer it of another.'

The Crane said, ' Sir Isegrim, go and be merry, for ye be all
whole. Now give to me that ye promised.'

"The Wolf said, ' Will ye hear what he saith? I am he that
hath suffered and have cause to plain, and he will have good
of me ! He thanketh not me of the kindness that I did to him.
He put his head in my mouth, and I suffered him to draw it out

134 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

whole without hurting; and he did to me also harm. And if
any here should have a reward, it should be I, by right.'

" Thus the unkind men nowadays reward them that do them
good. When the false and subtle arise and become great, then
goeth worship and profit all to nought. There ben many, of right
that ought reward and do good to such as have helpen them in
their need, that now find causes and say they be hurt, and would
have amends where they ought to reward and make amends them-
self. Therefore it is said, and truth it is, who that will chide
or chastise see that he be clear himself.

" All this and much more than I now can well remember was
made and wrought in this glass. The master that ordained it was
a cunning man and a profound clerk in many sciences. And be-
cause these jewels were over good and precious for me to keep and
have, therefore I sent them to my dear Lord the King and to the
Queen in present. Where ben they now that give to their lords
such presents. The sorrow that my two children made when I
sent away the glass was great ; for they were wont to look therein
and see themself how their clothing and array became them on
their bodies. Oh, alas ! I knew not that Cuwart the Hare was so
nigh his death when I delivered him the male with these jewels.
I wist not to whom I might better have taken them, though it'
should have cost me my life, than him and Bellyn the Ram.
They were two of my best friends. Out, alas ! I cry upon the
murderer. I shall know who it was, though I should run through
all the world to seek him, for murder abideth not hid, it shall
come out. Peradventure he is in this, company that knoweth
where Cuwart is becomen, though he telleth it not; for many
false shrews walk with good men, from whom no man can keep
him, they knowen their craft so well and can well cover their
falseness. But the most wonder that I have is that my Lord the
King here sayeth so felly, that my father nor I did him never
good. That thinketh me marvel, of a king. But there come so
many things tofore him that he forgetteth that one with that other,
and so fareth by me. Dear Lord, remember not ye when my
Lord your father lived, and ye an youngling of two year were, that

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 135

my father came from school from Monpellier whereas he had five
year studied in recipes of medicines. He knew all the tokens of
the urine as well as his hand, and also all the herbs, and nature
of them which were viscous or laxative. He was a singular master
in that science. He might well wear cloth of silk and a gilt
girdle. When he came to Court he found the King in a great
sickness, whereof he was sorry in his heart, for he loved him
above all other lords. The King would not forego him, for when
he came all other had leave to walk where they would ; he trusted
none so much as him. He said, ' Reynart, I am sick, and feel
me the longer the worse.' My father said, * My dear Lord, here
is an urinal : make your water therein, and as soon as I may see
it I shall tell what sickness it is and also how ye shall be holpen.'
The King did as he counselled him, for he trusted no man better
that lived. Though so were that my father did not as he should
have done to you, but that was by counsel of evil and foul beasts
— I had wonder thereof — but it was a raising against his death.
He said, ' My Lord, if ye will be whole ye must eat the liver of a
wolf of seven year old, that may ye not leave or else ye shall die \
for your urine showeth it plainly.'

" The Wolf stood thereby and said nought.

" But the King said to him, 'Sir Isegrim, now, ye hear well that
I must have your liver if I will be whole.'

" Tho answered the Wolf and said, ' Nay my lord not so, I
wot well I am not yet five year old. I have heard my mother
say so.'

"My father said, 'What skilleth these words? Let him be
opened, and I shall know by the liver if it be good for you or
not.'

" And therewith the Wolf was taken to kitchen, and his liver
taken out, which the King ate and was anon all whole of all his
sickness. Then thanketh he my father much, and commanded
all his household upon their lives that after that time they should
call him Master Reynart.

" He abode still by the King, and was believed of all things,
and must always go by his side ; and the King gave to him a gar-

136 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

land of roses which he must always wear on his head. But now
this is all turned. All the old good things that he did be for-
gotten, and these covetous and ravenous shrews ben taken up and
set on the high bench, and ben heard and made great, and the
wise folk ben put aback, by which these lords oft lack, and
cause them to be in much trouble and sorrow. For when a
covetous man of low birth is made a lord, and is much great, and
above his neighbours hath power and might, then he knoweth not
himself, ne whence he is comen, and hath no pity on no man's
hurt, ne heareth no man's request, but if he may have great gifts.
All his intent and desire is to gather good, and to be greater.
Oh, how many covetous men ben now in lords1 courts ! They
flatter and smeke,1 and please the prince, for their singular avail,
but and the prince had need of them or their good, they should
rather suffer him to die, or fare right hard, ere they would give
or lend him. They be like the Wolf that had liefer the King had
died than he would give him his liver. Yet had I liefer ere that
the King or the Queen should fare amiss, that twenty such wolves
should lose their lives ; it were also the least loss. My lord, all
this befell in your youth, that my father did thus. I trow ye
have forgotten it.

" And also I have my self done you reverence, worship, and
courtesy. Unroused be it, though ye now thank me but little,
but peradventure ye remembered not that I shall now say, — not
to any forwitting of you, for ye be worthy all worship and reverence
that any man can do ; that have ye of Almighty God by inherit-
ance of your noble progenitors, wherefore I your humble subject
and servant am bounden to do to you all the service that I can or
may. I came on a time walking with the Wolf Isegrim, and we
had gotten under us both a Swine. And for his loud crying we bit
him to death ; and, sire, ye came from far out of a grove against us.
Ye saluted us friendly, and said we were welcome, and that ye
and my Lady the Queen, which came after you, had great hunger
and had nothing for to eat, and prayed us for to give you part of
our winning. Isegrim spake so soft that a man unnethe might
1 Smeke, flatter (schmeicheln).

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 137

hear him, but I spake out and said, * yea, my lord, with a good
will. Though it were more, we will well that ye have part.' And
then the Wolf departed as he was wont to do ; departed, and
took that one half for himself, and he gave you a quarter for
you and for the Queen. That other quarter he ate and bit
as hastily as he might, because he would eat it alone. And
he gave to me but half the lungs, that I pray God that evil
might he fare.

" Thus showed he his conditions and nature. Ere men should
have sungen a Credo, ye, my lord, had eaten your part, and yet
would ye fain have had more, for ye were not full. And because
he gave you no more, ne proffered you, ye lift up your right foot
and smote him between the ears that ye tore his skin over his
eyen, and tho he might no longer abide, but he bled, howled, and
ran away, and left his part there lying. Tho said ye to him,
' Haste ye again hither, and bring to us more. And here after
see better to how ye deal and part.' Then said I, ' My lord, if it
please you I will go with him, I wot well what ye said.' I went
with him. He bled and groaned, as sore as he was, all softly ;
he durst not cry loud. We went so far that we brought a calf.
And when ye saw us come therewith ye laughed, for ye were well
pleased, ye said to me that I was swift in hunting : ' I see well
that ye can find well when ye take it upon you. Ye be good to
send forth in a need. The calf is good and fat, hereof shall ye be
the dealer.' I said, ' My lord, with a good will. The one half,
my lord, shall be for you. And that other half for my lady the
Queen. The moghettis, liver, lungs, and the inward, shall be for
your children. The head shall Isegrim the Wolf have, and I will
have the feet.' Tho said ye, * Reynart, who hath taught you to
depart so courteously?' 'My lord,' said I, 'that hath done this
priest that sitteth here with the bloody crown. He lost his skin
with the uncourteous departing of the swine, and for his courtesy
and ravin he hath hurt and shame.'

" Alas there be many wolves now a days that, without right and
reason, destroy and eat them that they may have the overhand of.
They spare neither flesh ne blood, friend ne enemy. What they

138 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX

can get that take they. O, woe be to that land and to towns
where as the wolves have the overhand 1

" My lord, this and many other good thing have I done for you,
that I could well tell if it were not too long, of which now ye re-
member little by the words I hear of you. If ye would all thing
oversee well, ye would not say as ye do. I have seen the day
that there should no great matter be concluded in this Court
without mine advice. Albeit that this adventure is now fallen, it
might happen yet that my words shall be heard and also believed
as well as another's, as far as right will, for I desire none other.
For if there be any can say and make good by sufficient witnesses
that I have trespassed, I will abide all the right and law that may
come thereof ; and if any say on me anything of which he can
bring no witnesses, let me then be ruled after the law and custom
of this court."

The King said, " Reynart, ye say reasonably. I know not of
Cuwart's death more than that Bellyn the Ram brought his head
hither in the male. Thereof I let you go quit, for I have no
witness thereof."

" My dear lord," said Reynart, " God thank you. Sykerly ye
do well. For his death maketh me so sorrowful that methinketh
my heart will break in two. Oh, when they departed from me,
mine heart was so heavy that I should have swooned. I wot
well it was a token of the loss that tho was so nigh coming to me."

All the most part of them that were there and heard the Fox's
words of the jewels, and how he made his countenance and
stretched him, had verily supposed that it had not be feigned but
that it had be true. They were sorry of his loss and misadven-
ture, and also of his sorrow. The King and the Queen had both
pity of him, and bade him to make not too much sorrow, but
that he should endeavour him to seek them. For he had so much
praised them that they had great will and desire to have them.
And because he had made them to understand that he had sent
these jewels to them, though they never had them yet they thanked
him, and prayed him to help that they might have them.

The Fox understood their meaning well, he thought toward

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 139

them but little good for all that. He said, " God thank you, my
lord and my lady, that ye so friendly comfort me in my sorrow.
I shall not rest night ne day, ne all they that will do anything
for me, but run, and pray, threaten, and ask all the four corners
of the world, though I should ever seek, till that I know where
they ben bicomen. And I pray you, my Lord the King, that
if they were in such place as I could not get them by prayer, by
might, ne by request, that ye would assist me and abide by me ;
for it toucheth yourself, and the good is yours ; and also it is
your part to do justice on theft and murder, which both ben in
this case."

"Reynart," said the King, "that shall I not leave, when ye
know where they ben. Mine help shall be alway ready for you."

" Oh, dear lord, this is too much presented to me. If I had
power and might I should deserve against you."

Now hath the Fox his matter fast and fair," for he hath the
King in his hand as he would. Him thought that he was in
better case than it was like to have be ; he hath made so many
leasings that he may go freely where he will, without complaining
of any of them all, save of Isegrim, which was to himward angry
and displeased, and said, " O noble King, are ye so much childish
that ye believe this false and subtle shrew, and suffer yourself
with false lies thus to be deceived ? Of faith it should be long or
I should believe him, he is in murder and treason all bewrapped,
and he mocketh you tofore your visage. I shall tell him another
tale. I am glad that I see now him here. All his leasings shall
not avail him ere he depart from me."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

How Isegrim the Wolf complained again on the Fox.

" MY lord, I pray you to take heed. This false thief betrayed my
wife once foul and dishonestly. It was so that in a winter's day
they went together through a great water, and he bare my wife
an honde that he would teach her take fish with her tail, and that

140 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

she should let it hang in the water a good while and there should
so much fish cleave on it that four of them should not conne eat
it. The fool, my wife, supposed he had said truth. And she
went in the mire ere she came into the water, and when she was
in the deepest of the water he bad her hold her tail till that the fish
were comen. She held her tail so long that it was frozen hard
in the ice and could not pluck it out. And when he saw that,
he sprang up after on her body. She could not defend herself,
the silly beast, she stood so deep in the mire. Hereof he cannot
say nay, for I found him with the deed. Alas, what pain suffered
I tho at my heart ! I had almost for sorrow lost my five wits, and
cried as loud as I might, and when he saw me so nigh he went
his way. I went to her in a great heaviness, and went deep in
that mire and that water ere I could break the ice, and much
pain suffered she ere she could have out her tail, and yet left
a gobbet of her tail behind her. And we were like both thereby
to have lost our lives, for she yelped and cried so loud for the
smart that she had ere she came out, that the men of the village
came out, with staves and bills, with flail and pickforks, and
the wives with their distaffs, and cried despitously, " Slay ! slay !
and smite down right ! " I was never in my life so afraid, for
unnethe we escape. We ran so fast that we sweat. There was
a villain that stake on us with a pike which hurted us sore ; he
was strong and swift a foot. Had it not be night, certainly we
had been slain. The foul old queans would fain have beaten
us. They said that we had bitten their sheep. They cursed us
with many a curse. Tho came we in a field full of broom and
brambles, there hid we us from the villains, and they durst not
follow us further by night, but returned home again. See my
lord this foul matter. Ye ought to do justice thereon sharply."

Ueynart answered and said, " If this were true, it should go too
nigh mine honour and worship. God forbid that it should be
found true ! It is well true that I taught her how she should in
a place catch fish, and showed her a good way for to go over into
the water without going into the mire. But she ran so desirously
when she heard me name the fish, that she neither way ne path

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 141

held, but went into the ice wherein she was forfrorn. And that
was because she abode too long. She had fish enough, if she
could have be pleased with measure. It falleth oft, who that
would have all loseth all. Over covetous was never good. For
the beast cannot be satisfied, and when I saw her in the ice so
fast I went to have holpen her, and to have brought her out, but
it was all pain lost, for she was too heavy for me. Tho came
Isegrim, and saw how I did all my best, and he, as a foul churl,
foul and rybadously slandereth me with her, as these foul
unthrifts ben wont to do. But, my dear Lord, it was none
otherwise. He belieth me falsely. Peradventure his eyen
dazzled as he looked from above down. He cried and cursed
me, and swore many an oath I should dear abye it. When
I heard him so curse and threaten I went my way, and let
him curse and threaten till he was weary. And tho went he
and help his wife out, and then he leapt and ran, and she also,
for to get them an heat and to warm them, or else they should
have died for cold. And whatsomever I have said, afore or
after, that is clearly all truth. I would not for a thousand mark
of fine gold lie to you one leasing. It were not fitting for me.
Whatsomever fall of me, I shall say the truth, like as mine elders
have always done sith the time that we first understood reason.
And if ye be in doubt of anything that I have said otherwise than
truth, give me respite of eight days, that I may have counsel, and
I shall bring such information with good true and sufficient
record that ye shall all your life during trust and believe me, and
so shall all your council also. What have I to do with the Wolf?
It is tofore clearly enough showed that he is a foul villainous caitiff,
and an unclean beast, when he dealed and departed the swine. So
it is now knowen,to you all by his own words, that he is a defamer
of women as much as in him is, ye may well mark euerychone.
Now ask ye his wife if it be so as he saith. If she will say the
truth I wot well she shall say as I do."

Tho spake Ersewynde the Wolfs wife, " Ach, fell Reynart, no
man can keep himself from thee, — thou canst so well utter thy
words and thy falseness and* reason set forth. But it shall be

142 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

evil rewarded in the end. How broughtest thou me once into
the well, where the two buckets hung by one cord running through
one pulley, which went one up and another down, thou sattest
in that one bucket beneath in the pit in great dread. I came
thither and heard thee sigh and make sorrow, and asked thee
how thou earnest there. Thou saidst that thou hadst there so
many good fishes eaten out of the water that thy belly would
burst. I said, ' Tell me how I shall come to thee.' Then saidst
thou, ' Aunt, spring into that bucket that hangeth there, and ye
shall come anon to me. I did so ; and I went downward, and
ye came upward. Tho was I all angry.' Thou saidst, 'Thus
fareth the world, that one goeth up and another goeth down.'
Tho sprang ye forth and went your way, and I abode there alone,
sitting an whole day sore and hungered and a cold ; and thereto
had I many a stroke ere I could get thence."

"Auntie," said the Fox, "though the strokes did you harm, I
had liever ye had them than I, for ye may better bear them ; for
one of us must needs have had them. I taught you good, will ye
understand it and think on it, that ye another time take better
heed and believe no man over hastily, is he friend or cousin, for
every man seeketh his own profit. They be now fools that do
not so, and specially when they be in jeopardy of their lives."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

A fair parable of the Fox and the Wolf.

'• MY Lord," said Dame Ersewynde, " I pray you hear how he can
blow with all winds, and how fair bringeth he his matters forth."

" Thus hath he brought me many time in scathe and hurt," said
the Wolf. " He hath once betrayed me to the She Ape, mine aunt,
where I was in great dread and fear, for I left there almost mine
one ear. If the Fox will tell it, how it befel, I will give him the for-
dele thereof, for I cannot tell it so well but he shall beryspe me."

" Well," said the Fox, " I shall tell it without stammering. I
shall say the truth. I pray you hearken me. He came into the

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 143

wood and complained to me that he had great hunger ; for I saw
him never so full but he would alway have had fain more. I
have wonder where the meat becometh that he destroyeth. I
see now on his countenance that he beginneth to grymme for
hunger. When I heard him so complain, I had pity of him.
And I said, I was also hungry. Then went we half a day to-
gether and found nothing. Tho whined he and cried, and said
he might go no further. Then espied I a great hole, standing in
the middis 1 under an hawe which was thick of brambles, and I
heard a rushing therein, I wist not what it was. Then said I,
' Go therein and look if there be anything there for us ; I wot
well there is somewhat.' Tho said he, 'Cousin, I would not
creep into that hole for twenty pound, but 2 I wist 3 first what is
therein. Methinketh that there is some perilous thing. But I
shall abide here under this tree, if ye will go therein tofore. But
come anon again, and let me wete 4 what thing is therein. Ye can
many a subtlety, and can well help yourself, and much better
than I.' See my Lord the King, thus he made me, poor wight,
to go tofore into the danger, and he, which is great, long, and
strong, abode without and rested him in peace. Await if I did
not for him there. I would not surfer the dread and fear that I
there suffered, for all the good in earth, but if I wist how to escape.
I went hardily in. I found the way dark, long, and broad. Ere
I right in the hole came, so espied I a great light which came in
from that one side. There lay in a great Ape with twain great
wide eyen, and they glimmed as a fire ; and she had a great
mouth with long teeth, and sharp nails on her feet and on her
hands ; I weened it had be a mermouse, a baubyn, or a mercatte,
for I saw never fouler beast. And by her lay three of her
children, which were right foul, for they were right like the
mother. When they saw me come, they gapeden wide on me and
were all still. I was afraid and would well I had been thence ;
but I thought, I am therein, I must there through, and come out
as well as I may. As I saw her, me thought she seemed more 6

1 Middis, midst. 2 But, except. 3 Wist, knew.

4 Wete, know. 5 More, bigger.

144 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

than Isegrim the Wolf, and her children were more than I. I
saw never a fouler meyne.1 They lay on foul hay which was all
bepissed. They were beslabbed and beclagged to their ears too
in her own dung. It stank that I was almost smothered thereof.
I durst not say but good, and then I said, ' Aunt, God give you
good day, and all my cousins, your fair children, they be of their
age the fairest that ever I saw. O, Lord God, how well please
they me ! how lovely ! how fair be they ! Each of them for their
beauty might be a great king's son ! Of right we ought to thank
you, that ye thus increase our lineage. Dear Aunt, when I
heard say that ye were delivered and laid down I could no
longer abide, but must come and friendly visit you. I am sorry
that I had not erst knowen it.'

" ' Reynart, cousin,' said she, "ye be welcome. For that ye
have found me, and thus come see me, I thank you. Dear
cousin, ye be right true, and named right wise in all lands, and
also that ye gladly further and bring your lineage in great worship.
Ye must teach my children with yours some wisdom, that they
may know what they shall do and leave. I have thought on you,
for gladly ye go and fellowship with the good.'

" Oh how well was I pleased when I heard these words. This
deserved I at the beginning when I called her aunt; hovvbeit
that she was nothing sybbe to me ; for my right Aunt is Dame
Rukenawe that yonder standeth, which is wont to bring forth
wise children.

" I said, ' Aunt, my life and my good is at your commandment,
and what I may do for you by night and by day. I will gladly
teach them all that I can.'

" I would fain have be thence for the stench of them ; and also
I had pity of the great hunger that Isegrim had.

"I said, 'Aunt, I shall commit you and your fair children to
God and take my leave. My wife shall think long after me.'

"'Dear cousin,' said she, 'ye shall not depart till ye have
eaten ; for if ye did I would say ye were not kind.'

Tho stood she up and brought me in another hole, whereas
i Meynd, household.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 145

was much meat of harts and hinds, roes, pheasants, partridges,
and much other venison, that I wondered from whence all this meat
might come. And when I had eaten my bellyful, she gave me a
great piece of an hind for to eat with my wife and with my house-
hold when I come home. I was ashamed to take it, but I might
none otherwise do. I thanked her and took my leave. She
bade me I should come soon again. I said I would, and so
departed thence merrily that I so well had sped. I hasted me
out, and when I came, saw Isegrim which lay groaning. And I
asked him how he fared. He said, ' Nephew, all evil, for it is
wonder that I live. Bring ye any meat to eat ? I die for hunger.'
Tho had I compassion of him and gave him that I had, and saved
him there his life ; whereof then he thanked me greatly, howbeit
that he now oweth me evil will.

" He had eaten this up anon, tho said he, ' Reynart, dear
cousin, what found ye in that hole? I am more hungry now
than I was tofore. My teeth ben now sharped to eat."

" I said then, ' Erne, haste you then lightly into that hole. Ye
shall find there enough. There lieth mine Aunt with her children ;
if ye will spare the truth, and lie great leasings, ye shall have
there all your desire. But and ye say truth, ye shall take harm.'

"My Lord, was not this enough said and warned, who so
would understand it, that all that he found, he should say the
contrary. But rude and plump beasts cannot understand wisdom ;
therefore hate they all subtle inventions, for they cannot conceive
them. Yet nevertheless, he said he would go in, and lie so many
leasings, ere he should mishap, that all men should have wonder
of it ; and so went forth into that foul stinking hole, and found
the marmosette. She was like the devil's daughter, and on her
hung much filth clottered in gobbets.

" Tho cried he, ' Alas, me growleth of these foul nickers !
Come they out of hell ? Men may make devils afraid of them.
Go and drown them, that evil might they fear! I saw never
fouler worms, they make all mine hair to stand right up.'

" 'Sir Isegrim,3 said she, 'what may I do thereto? They ben
my children, and I must be their mother. What lieth that in

K

146 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

your way, whether they be foul or fair ? They have you nothing
cost. Here hath been one to-day before you which was to them
nigh of kin, and was your better and wiser ; and he said that
they were fair. Who hath sent you hither with these tidings ? '

" ' Dame, will ye wit, I will eat of your meat. It is better
bestowed on me than on these foul wights.'

" She said, ' Here is no meat.'

" He said, * Here is enough.'

" And therewith he stert with his head toward the meat, and
would have gone into the hole where the meat was. But mine
aunt stert up with her children, and run to him with their sharp
long nails so sore that the blood ran over his eyen. I heard him
cry sore and howl, but I know of no defence that he made but
that he ran fast out of the hole. And he was there scratched and
beaten, and many an hole had they made in his coat and skin.
His visage was all on a blood and almost he had lost his one ear.
He groaned and complained to me sore : then asked I him if he
had well lied. He said, ' I said like as I saw and found, and that
was a foul beast with many foul wights.'

" * Nay, Erne,' said I, ' ye should have said Fair niece how fare ye
and your fair children which ben my wellbeloved cousins ? ' The
Wolf said, * I had liefer that they were hanged ere I that said.'

" ' Yea, Erne, therefore must ye receive such manner payment.
It is better otherwhile to lie than to say truth. They that ben
better wiser and stronger than we be have done so tofore us.'

" See, my Lord the King, thus got he his red coif. Now
standeth he all so simply as he knew no harm. I pray you ask
ye him if it was not thus. He was not far off, if I wot it well."

CHAPTER XXXV.

How Isegrim proffered his glove for the Fox to fight with him.

THE Wolf said, " I may well forbear your mocks and your scorns
and also your fell venomous words, strong thief that ye are. Ye
said that I was almost dead for hunger, when ye help me in my need.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 147

That is falsely lied, for it was but a bone that ye gave to me, ye
had eaten away all the flesh that was thereon. And ye mock me
and say that I am hungry, here where I stand. That toucheth
my worship too nigh, — what many a spity word have ye brought
forth with false leasings ! — and that I have conspired the King's
death, from the treasure that ye have said to him is in Hulsterlo, — •
and ye have also my wife shamed and slandered that she shall never
recover it, and I should ever be disworshipped thereby if I avenged
it not. I have forborne you long, but now ye shall not escape
me. I can not make hereof great proof, but I say here tofore my
lord and tofore all them that ben here that thou art a false traitor
and a murderer, and that I shall prove and make good on thy
body within lists in the field, and that body against body, and
then shall our strife have an end. And thereto I cast to thee
my glove, and take thou it up I shall have right of thee or die
therefor."

Reynart the Fox thought, How come I on this campaign ? we
ben not both like. I shall not well conne stand against this strong
thief. All my proof is now come to an end.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Hoiv the Fox took up the glove. And how the King set to them day
and field for to come and do their battle.

YET thought the Fox I have good advantage : the claws of his
forefeet ben off, and his feet ben yet sore thereof, when for my
sake he was unshoed. He shall be somewhat the weaker.

Then said the Fox, " Who that saith that I am a traitor or a
murderer, I say he lieth falsely; and that art thou specially
Isegrim. Thou bringest me there as I would be. This have I
oft desired. Lo here is my pledge that all thy words ben false,
and that I shall defend me and make good that thou liest."

The King received the pledges, and admitted the battle, and
asked borowes 1 of them both that on the morn they should come

1 Borowes, sureties,

148 THE HISTORY 'OF REYNARD THE FOX.

and perform their battle, and do as they ought to do. Then the
Bear and the Cat were borowes for the Wolf ; and for the Fox
were borowes Grymbart the Dasse and Byteluys.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

How Rukenawe the She Ape counselled the Fox how he should
behave him in the field against the Wolf.

THE She Ape said to the Fox, "Reynart Nephew, see that ye
take heed in your battle. Be cold and wise. Your Erne taught
me once a prayer that is of much virtue to him that shall fight ;
and a great master and a wise clerk, and was abbot of Boudelo,
that taught him, he said, who that said devoutly this prayer fasting
shall not that day be overcomen in battle ne in fighting. There-
fore, dear Nephew, be not afraid, I shall read it over you to-
morrow, then may ye be sure enough of the Wolf. It is better to
fight than to have the neck asunder."

" I thank you, dear aunt," said the Fox. " The quarrel that
I have is rightful, therefore I hope I shall speed well, and that
shall greatly be mine help."

All his lineage abode by him all the night and holp him to drive
away the time.

Dame Rukenawe the She Ape, his aunt, thought alway on his
profit and fordele. And she did all his hair from the head to
the tail be shorn off smooth ; and she anointed all his body with
oil of olive ; and then was his body also glat x and slipper that the
Wolf should have none hold on him. And he was round and
fat also on his body.

And she said to him, " Dear cousin, ye must now drink much
that to-morrow ye may the better make your urine ; but ye shall
hold it in till ye come to the field. And when need is and time,
so shall ye piss full your rough tail and smite the Wolf therewith
in his beard. And if ye might hit him therewith in his eyen, then
shall ye byneme him 2 his sight. That should much hinder him.

1 Glat, smooth. 2 Byneme him, take away from him.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 149

But else, hold alvvay your tail fast between your legs that he catch
you not thereby; and hold down your ears lying plat after your
head that he hold you not thereby ; and see wisely to yourself.
And at beginning flee from his strokes, and let him spring and
run after you, and run tofore where as most dust is, and stir it
with your feet that it may flee in his eyen, and that shall much
hinder his sight. And while he rubbeth his eyen, take your
advantage and smite and bite him there as ye may most hurt
him, and alway to hit him with your tail full of piss in his visage,
and that shall make him so woe that he shall not wit where he
is. And let him run after you for to make him weary. Yet his
feet ben sore of that ye made him to lose his shoes, and though
he be great he hath no heart. Nephew, certainly this is my
counsel. The connyng goeth tofore strength ; therefore see for
yourself, and set yourself wisely at defence, that ye and we all
may have worship thereof. I would be sorry if ye mishapped. I
shall teach you the words that your Erne Martin taught me, that ye
may overcome your enemy, as I hope ye shall do without doubt."

Therewith she laid her hand upon his head, and said these
words : " Blaerde Shay Alphenio Kasbue Gorfons Alsbuifrio.
Nephew, now be ye sure from all mischief and dread. And I
counsel you that ye rest you a little, for it is by the day ye shall
be the better disposed; we shall awake you in all in time."

"Aunt," said the Fox, "I am now glad. God thank you, ye
have done to me such good I can never deserve it fully again.
Methinketh there may nothing hurt me sith that ye have said
these holy words over me."

Tho went he and laid him down under a tree in the grass, and
slept till the sun was risen. Tho came the Otter and waked him,
and bad him arise, and gave him a good young duck and said,
" Dear cousin, I have this night made many a leap in the water
ere I could get this young fat duck. I have taken it from a fowler.
Take and eat it."

Reynart said, "This is good handsel. If I refused I were a
fool. I thank you, cousin, that ye remember me. If I live I
shall reward you."

ISO THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

The Fox ate the duck without sauce or bread. It savoured
him well, and went well in. And he drank thereto four great
draughts of water. Then went he to the battle ward, and all they
that loved him went with him.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

How the Fox came into the field and how they fought.

WHEN the King saw Reynart thus shorn and oiled he said to him,
" Ey, Fox, how well can ye see for yourself ! "

He wondered thereof; he was foul to look on.

But the Fox said not one word, but kneeled down low to the
earth unto the King and to the Queen, and striked him forth into
the field.

, The Wolf was there ready and spake many a proud word. The
rulers and keepers of the field were the Leopard and the Losse.^
They brought forth the book on which sware the Wolf that the
Fox was a traitor and a murderer, and none might be falser than
he was, and that he would prove on his body and make it good.
Reynart the Fox sware that he lied as a false knave and a cursed
thief, and that he would do good on his body.

When this was done, the governors of the field bade them do
their devoir. Then roomed they all the field, save Dame Ruke-
nawe the She Ape, she abode by the Fox and bade him remember
well the words that she had said to him. She said, " See well to.
When ye were seven years old ye were wise enough to go by night
without lantern or moonshine where ye wist to win any good. Ye
ben named among the people wise and subtle. Pain yourself to
work so that ye win the prize, then may ye have ever honour and
worship, and all we that ben your friends."

He answered, " My dearest aunt, I know it well. I shall do
my best, and think on your counsel. I hope so to do that all
my lineage shall have worship thereby, and mine enemies shame
and confusion."

She said, " God grant it you."

1 Losse, lynx (Dutch, los}.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 151

CHAPTER XXXIX.

How the Fox and the Wolf fought together.

THEREWITH she went out of the field and let them twain go
together. The Wolf trode forth to the *Fox in great wrath, and
opened his forefeet, and supposed to have taken the Fox in
them. But the Fox sprang from him lightly, for he was lighter
to foot than he. The Wolf sprang after, and hunted the Fox
sore. Their friends stood without the lists and looked upon
them. The Wolf strode wider than Reynart did, and oft over-
took him, and lift up his fo6t and weened to have smitten him.
But the Fox saw to, and smote him with his rough tail, which
he had all bepissed, in his visage. Tho weened the Wolf to have
ben plat blind ; the piss started in his eyen. Then must he rest,
for to make clean his eyen. Reynart thought on his fordele, and
stood above the wind scraping and casting with his feet the
dust, that it flew the Wolf's eyenful. The Wolf was sore blinded
therewith, in such wise that he must leave the running after him,
for the sand and piss cleaved under his eyen, that it smarted so
sore that he must rub and wash it away.

Tho came Reynart in a great anger and bote 1 him three great
wounds on his head with his teeth, and said, " What is that, Sir
Wolf ! Hath one there bitten you ? How is it with you ? I
will all otherwise on you yet. Abide. I shall bring you some
new thing. Ye have stolen many a lamb, and destroyed many
a simple beast, and now falsely have appealed me and brought
me in this trouble. All this shall I now avenge on thee. I am
chosen to reward thee for thine old sins, for God will no longer
suffer thee in thy great raven and shrewdness. I shall now
assoil thee, and that shall be good for thy soul. Take patiently
this penance, for thou shalt live no longer, The hell shall be
thy purgatory. Thy life is now in my mercy, but and if thou
wilt kneel down and ask me forgiveness, and knowledge thee to
be overcomen, yet though thou be evil, yet I will spare thee. For

1 Bote, bit.

152 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

my conscience counselleth me I should not gladly slay no
man."

Isegrim weened with these mocking and spiteous words to have
gone out of his wits ; and that dered l him so much that he wist
not what to say, buff ne haff, he was so angry in his heart. The
wounds that Reynart had given him bled and smarted sore, and
he thought how he might best avenge it.

With great anger he lift up his foot and smote the Fox on the
head so great a stroke that he fell to the ground. Tho stert the
Wolf to, and weened to have taken him. But the Fox was light
and wily, and rose lightly up, and met with him fiercely. And
there began a fell battle which dured long. The Wolf had great
spite on the Fox, as well it seemed. He sprang after him
ten times each after other, and would fain have had him fast.
But his skin was so slipper and fat of the oil, that alway he
escaped from him. O, so subtle and snelle 2 was the Fox, that
many times when the Wolf weened well to make sure of him, he
stert then between his legs and under his belly, and then turned
he again and gave the Wolf a stroke with his tail in his eyen, that
Isegrim weened he should have lost his sight, and this did he
often times. And alway when he had so smitten him, then would
he go above the wind and raise the dust, that it made his eyen full
of stuffs. Isegrim was woebegone, and thought he was at an after-
dele ; 3 yet was his strength and might much more than the Fox's.
Reynart had many a sore stroke of him when he raught 4 him.
They gave each other many a stroke and many a bite when they
saw their advantage, and each of them did his best to destroy
that other. I would I might see such a battle. That one was
wily, and that other was strong. That one fought with strength,
and that other with subtlety.

The Wolf was angry that the Fox endured so long against him.
If his foremost feet had been whole, the Fox had not endured so
long; but the sores were so open that he might not well run.

1 Dered, injured. 2 Snelle, quick.

3 At an afterdele, about to pass away. Dutch, dalen, is to sink, as the sun when
it is setting, begint te dalen. 4 Raught, reached him.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 153

And the Fox might better off and on than he, and also he swang
his tail oft under his eyen, and made him that him thought that
his eyen should go out.

At last he said to himself, I will make an end of this battle.
How long shall this caitiff dure thus against me ? I am so great,
I should, if I lay upon him, press him to death. It is to me a
great shame that I spare him so long. Men shall mock and point
me with fingers to my shame and rebuke, for I am yet on the
worst side. I am sore wounded ; I bleed sore ; and he drowneth
me with his piss and casts so much dust and sand in mine eyen
that hastily I shall not conne see, if I suffer him any longer. I will
set it in adventure and seen what shall come thereof.

With that he smote with his foot Reynart on the head that he
fell down to the ground, and ere he could arise he caught him in
his feet and lay upon him as he would have pressed him to death.
Tho began the Fox to be afraid, and so were all his friends when
they saw him lie under. And on that other side all Isegrim's
friends were joyful and glad. The Fox defended him fast with
his claws as he lay upward with his feet, and gave many a elope.1
The Wolf durst not with his feet do him much harm, but with his
teeth snatched at him as he would have bitten him. When the
Fox saw that he should be bitten and was in great dread, he smote
the Wolf in the head with his foremost claws and tare the skin off
between his brows and his ears, and that one of his eyen hung
out ; which did him much pain. He howled, he wept, he cried
loud, and made a piteous noise, for the blood ran down as it had
been a stream.

CHAPTER XL.

Jlmv the Fox, being under the Wolf, with flattering ivordes glosed
him, that the Fox came to his above again.

THE Wolf wiped his eyen, the Fox was glad when he saw that.
He wrestled so sore, that he sprang on his feet while he rubbed
his eyen. The Wolf was not well pleased therewithal, and smote

1 dope, blow (Dutch, klop).

154 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

after him ere he escaped, and caught him in his arms, and held
him fast, notwithstanding that he bled. Reynard was woe then.
There wrestled they long and sore. The Wolf waxed so angry
that he forgat all his smarts and pain, and threw the Fox all plat
under him, which came him evil to pass, for his one hand, by
which he defended him stert in the falling into Isegrim's throat,
and then was he afraid to lose his hand.

The Wolf said tho to the Fox, " Now choose, whether ye will
yield you as overcome or else I shall certainly slay you. Thy scat-
tering of the dust, thy piss, thy mocking, ne thy defence, ne all thy
false wiles, may not now help thee. Thou mayest not escape me.
Thou hast heretofore done me so much harm and shame, and
now I have lost mine one eye and thereto sore wounded."

When Reynart heard that it stood so rowme 1 that he should
choose to knowledge him overcomen and yield him or else to
take the death, he thought the choice was worth ten mark, and
that he must say that one or that other. He had anon concluded
what he would say, and began to say to him with fair words in
this wise :

" Dear Erne, I will gladly become your man with all my good.
And I will go for you to the holy grave, and shall get pardon and
winning for your cloister of all the churches that ben in the holy
land, which shall much profit to your soul and your elders' souls
also. I trow there was never such a proffer proffered to any
king. And I shall serve you like as I should serve our holy
father the Pope. I shall hold of you all that I have, and ever
ben your servant, and forth I shall make that all my lineage
shall do in like wise. Then shall ye be a lord above all lords.
Who should then dare do anything against you ? And further-
more whatsomever I take of polaille, geese, partridge, or plover,
fish or flesh, or whatsomever it be, thereof shall ye first have the
choice, and your wife and your children, ere any come in my body.
Thereto I will alway abide by you, that where ye be there shall
no hurt ne scathe come to you. Ye be strong, and I am wily :
let us abide together that, one with the counsel and that other
1 Rowme, ruefully (Dutch, rouw, sorrow).

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 155

with the deed, then may there nothing misfall to usward. And
we ben so nigh of kin each to other that of right should be no
anger between us. I would not have foughten against you if I
might have escaped. But ye appealed me first unto fight, tho must
I do that I not do would gladly. And in this battle I have ben
curtoys to you, I have not showed the utterest of my might on
you like as I would have done if ye had been a stranger to me ;
for the Nephew ought to spare the Erne, it is good reason and it
ought so to be. Dear Erne, so have I now do, and that may ye
mark well when I ran tofore you, mine heart would not consent
thereto. For I might have hurt you much more than I did, but
I thought it never; for I have not hurt you, ne done you so
much harm that may hinder you, save only that mishap that is
fallen on your eye. Ach ! therefore I am sorry, and suffer much
sorrow in my heart I would well, dear Erne, that it had not
happed you, but that it had fallen on me, so that ye therewith
had been pleased ; howbeit that ye shall have thereby a great
advantage. For when ye hereafter sleep ye need not to shut
but one window where another must shut two. My wife and my
children and my lineage shall fall down to your feet, tofore the
King and tofore all them that ye will, desire and pray you humbly
that ye will suffer Reynart, your nephew, live ; and also I shall
knowledge oft to have trespassed against you, and what leasings
I have lied upon you. How might any lord have more honour
than I proffer you. I would for no good do this to another.
Therefore I pray you to be pleased herewithall. I wote well, if
ye would, ye might have slew me ; but and ye so done had, what
had ye won ? So must ye ever after this time keep you from my
friends and lineage. Therefore he is wise that can in his anger
measure himself, and not be over hasty, and to. see well what may
fall or happe afterward to him. What man that in his anger can
well advise him, certainly he is wise. Men find many fools that
in heat hasten them so much that after they repent them and
then it is too late. But, dear Erne, I trow ye be too wise so to
do. It is better to have praise, honour, rest, and peace, and
many friends that be ready to help him, than to have shame,

156 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

hurt, unrest, and also many enemies lying in a wait to do him
harm. Also it is little worship to him that hath overcomen a man
then to slay him. It is great shame, not for my life, though I
were dead that were a little hurt."

Isegrim the Wolf said, " Ay, thief, how fain wouldest thou be
loosed and discharged from me, that hear I well by thy words.
Were thou now from me on thy free feet thou wouldst not set by
me an egg shell. Though thou promisedst to me all the world
of fine red gold, I would not let thee escape. I set little by thee
and all thy friends and lineage. All that thou hast here said is
but leasings and feigned falseness. Weenest thou thus to deceive
me? it is long since that I knew thee. I am no bird to be
locked, ne take by chaff. I know well enough good corn. O,
how wouldest thou mock me if I let thee thus escape. Thou
mightest well have said this to one that knew thee not, but to me
thou losest thy flattering and sweet fluting, for I understand too
well thy subtle lying tales. Thou hast so oft deceived me that
me behoveth now to take good heed of thee. Thou false stinking
knave, thou sayest that thou hast spared me in this battle. Look
hitherward to me. Is not mine one eye out ? And thereto hast
thou wounded me in twenty places in my head. Thou wouldest
not suffer me so long to rest as to take once my breath. I were
over much a fool if I should now spare thee or be merciful to
thee. So many a confusion and shame as thou hast done to me ;
and that also that toucheth me most of all, that thou hast dis-
worshipped me and sklaundred Ersewynde my wife, whom I love
as well as myself, and falsely deceivedst her, which shall never out
of my heart : for as oft as it cometh to mine mind all mine anger
and hate that I have to thee reneweth."

In the meanwhile that Isegrim was thus speaking, the Fox
bethought him how he might help himself, and stuck his other
hand after between his legs, and grepe the Wolf fast. And he
wrong him so sore that for woe and pain he must cry loud and
howl. Then the Fox drew his other hand out of his mouth.
The Wolf had so much pain and anguish of the sore wringing,
that he spit blood.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 157

CHAPTER XLI.

How Isegrim the Wolf was overcomen and how the battle was taken
up and finished. And how the Fox had the worship.

THIS pain did him more sorrow and woe than his eye did that so
sore bled, and also it made him to overthrow all in a swoon. Then
Reynart the Fox leapt upon him with all his might, and caught
him by the legs, and drew him forth through the field that they
all might see it, and he stack and smote him sore. Then were
Isegrim's friends all full of sorrow, and went all weeping unto their
Lord the King, and prayed him that he would do cease the battle,
and take it up into his hand.

The King granted it. And then went the keepers of the field
the Leopard and the Lossem and said to the Fox and to the
Wolf, "Our Lord the King will speak with you, and will that this
battle be ended. He will take it into his hand. He desireth
that ye will give your strife unto him, for if any of you here were
slain it should be great shame on both sides. For ye have as
much worship of this field as ye may have."

And they said to the Fox, "All the beasts give to you the
prize that have seen this battle."

The Fox said, "Thereof I thank them, and what that shall
please my lord to command that shall not I gainsay. I desire no
better but to have won the field. Let my friends come hither to
me. I will take advice of them what I shall do."

They said, " That they thought it good ; and also it was reason
in weighty matters a man should take advice of his friends."

Then came Dame Slopecade and Grymbart the Dasse her
husband, Dame Rukenawe with her two sisters, Byteluys and
Fulrompe her two sons and Hatenit her daughter, the Flynder-
mows 1 and the Weasel. And there came more than twenty which
would not have come if the Fox had lost the field. So who that
winneth and cometh to hys aboue, he getteth great loos and
worship : and who that is overthrown and hath the worse, to

1 Flyndermows, bat.

158 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

him will no man gladly come. There came also to the Fox the
Beaver, the Otter and both their wives Panthecrote and Ordegale.
And the Ostrole, the Marten, the Fitchews, the Ferret, the Mouse,
and the Squirrel, and many more than I can name. And all be-
cause he had won the field. Yea some came that tofore had
complained on him, and were now of his next kin, and they
showed him right friendly cheer and countenance. Thus fareth
the world now. Who that is rich and high on the wheel, he hath
many kinsmen and friends that shall help to bear out his wealth :
but who that is needy and in pain or in poverty findeth but few
friends and kinsmen ; for every man almost escheweth his com-
pany and way.

There was then great feast. They blew up trumpets and piped
with shalmoyses.

They said all, " Dear Nephew, blessed be God that ye have
sped well. We were in great dread and fear when we saw you
lie under."

Reynart the Fox thanked all them friendly, and received them
with great joy and gladness. Then he asked of them what they
counselled him. If he should give the field unto the King
or no?

Dame Slopecade said, " Yea hardily cousin. Ye may with
worship well set it in to his hands, and trust him well enough."

Tho went they all with the keepers of the field unto the
King. And Reynart the Fox went tofore them all, with trumpets
and pipes and much other minstrelsy. The Fox kneeled down
tofore the King.

The King bad him stand up, and said to him, " Reynart ye
be now joyful. Ye have kept your day worshipfully. I discharge
you, and let you go freely quit where it pleaseth you. And the
debate between you, I hold it on me, and shall discuss it by reason
and by counsel of noble men, and will ordain thereof that ought
be done by reason, at such time as Isegrim shall be whole. And
then I shall send for you to come to me, and then by God's grace
I shall give out the sentence and judgment."

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 159

CHAPTER XLII.

An ensample that the Fox told to the King when he had
won the field.

" MY worthy and dear Lord the King," said the Fox, " I am well
agreed and paid therewith. But when I came first into your
Court there were many that were fell and envious to me, which
never had hurt ne cause of scathe by me. But they thought that
they might best over me, and all they crieden with mine enemies
against me and would fain have destroyed me, because they
thought that the Wolf was better withholden and greater with
you than I was, which am your humble subject. They knew
none other thing, why ne wherefore. They thought not as the
wise be wont to do, that is what the end may happen.

" My lord these ben like a great heap of hounds which I once
saw stand at a lord's place upon a dunghill, whereas they awaited
that men should bring them meat. Then saw they an hound
come out of the kitchen and had taken there a fair rib of beef
ere it was given him. And he ran fast away withal ; but the cook
had espied or x he went away, and took a great bowl full of scalding
water and cast it on his hips behind ; whereof he thanked nothing
the cook, for the hair behind was scalded off and his skin seemed
as it had be through sodden. Nevertheless he escaped away and
kept that he had won.

" And when his fellows the other hounds saw him come with
this fair rib, they called him all and said to him, ' Oh how good
a friend is the cook to thee, which hath given to thee so good
a bone, whereon is so much flesh.'

"The hound said, 'Ye know nothing thereof. Ye praise me
like as ye see me tofore with the bone. But ye have not seen
me behind. Take heed, and behold me afterward on mine but-
tocks, and then ye shall know how I deserved it.'

" And when they had seen him behind on his hips how that
his skin and his. flesh was all raw arid through sodden, tho

1 Or, ere.

160 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

growled they all and were afraid of that syedyng water; and
would not of his fellowship, but fled and ran away from him, and
let him there alone.

" See, my Lord, this right have these false beasts. When they
be made lords, and may get their desire, and when they be mighty
and doubted,1 then ben they extortioners and scatte and pylle
the people and eaten them like as they were forhungred hounds.
These ben they that bear the bone in their mouth. No man dare
have to do with them, but preyse all that they bedrive.2 No man
dare say otherwise but such as shall please them, because they
would not be shorn. And some help them forth in their un-
righteous deeds because they would not have part, and lick their
fingers, and strengthe them in their evil life and works. O, dear
Lord, how little seen they that do thus after behind them, what
the end shall be at last. They fall from high to low in great shame
and sorrow, and then their works come to knowledge and be open
in such wise that no man hath pity ne compassion on them in
their mischief and trouble, and every man curse them and say
evil by them to their shame and villainy. Many of such have
been blamed and shorn full nigh, that they had no worship ne
profit but lose their hair as the hound did, that is their friends
which have help them to cover their misdeeds and extortions like
as the hair covereth the skin. And when they have sorrow and
shame for their old trespasses, then each body plucketh his hand
from him, and flee, like as the hounds did from him that was
scalded with the syedyng water, and let him these extortions in
their sorrow and need.

My dear Lord King, I beseech you to remember this example
of me ; it shall not be against your worship ne wisdom. What
ween ye how many ben there such false extortioners now in these
days, — yea much worse than an hound that beareth such a bone
in his mouth — in towns, in great lords' courts, which with great
facing and bracing oppress the poor people with great wrong, and
sell their freedom and privileges, and bear them on hand of
things that they never knew ne thought, and all for to get good
1 Doubted^ feared, 3 Bedrive, experience,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 161

for their singular profit. God give them all shame, and soon
destroy them, whosomever they be that so do !

"But God be thanked," said the Fox, "there may no man
indite me, ne lineage, ne kin, of such works, but that we shall
acquit us, and comen in the light. I am not afraid of any that
can say on me any thing that I have done otherwise than a true
man ought to do. Alway the Fox shall abide the Fox, though
all his enemies had sworn the contrary. My dear Lord the
King, I love you with my heart above all lords, and never for no
man would I turn from you, but abide by you to the utterest.
How well it hath been otherwise informed your highness, I have
nevertheless alway do the best, and forth so will do, all my life
that I can or may."

CHAPTER XLIII.

How the King forgave the Fox all things, and made him Sovereign
and greatest over all his lands,

THE King said, " Reynart, ye be one of them that oweth me
homage ; which I will that ye alway so do. And also I will that,
early and late, ye be of my council and one of my justices. See
well to that ye not misdo ne trespass no more. I set you again
in all your might and power, like as ye were tofore, and see that
ye further all matters to the best right. For when ye set your
wit and counsel to virtue and goodness, then may not our Court
be without your advice and counsel, for here is none that is like
to you in sharp and high counsel, ne subtler in finding a remedy
for a mischief. And think ye on the example that ye yourself
have told, and that ye haunt righteousness and be to me true. I
will from henceforth work and do by your advice and counsel.
He liveth not that if he misdid you, but I should sharply avenge
and wreke it on him. Ye shall overall speak and say my words, and
in all my land shall ye be, above all other, sovereign and my bayle.1
That office I give you. Ye may well occupy it with worship."
All Reynart's friends and lineage thanketh the King highly.
1 Bayle, bailiff, deputy, one who keeps in custody.

162 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

The King said, " I would do more for your sake than ye ween.
I pray you all that ye remember him that he be true."

Dame Rukenawe then said, "Yes sykerly, my Lord, that shall
he ever be, and think ye not the contrary. For if he were other-
wise, he were not of our kin ne lineage, and I would ever mis-
sake him, and would ever hinder him to my power."

Reynart the Fox thanked the King with fair courteous words,
and said, " Dear Lord, I am not worthy to have the worship that
ye do to me. I shall think thereon and be true to you all so
long as I live, and shall give you as wholesome counsel as shall
be expedient to your good grace."

Herewith he departed with his friends from the King.

Now hark how Isegrim the Wolf did. Bruin the Bear, Tybert
the Cat, and Ersewynde and her children with their lineage
drewen the Wolf out of the field, and laid him upon a litter of
hay, and covered him warm, and looked to his wounds which
were well twenty-five. And there came wise masters and surgeons
which bound them and wash them. He was so sick and feeble
that he had lost his feeling, but they rubbed and wryued1 him
under his temples and eyen, that he sprang out of his swound,
and cried so loud that all they were afraid* They had weened
that he had been wood.2

But the masters gave him a drink that comforted his heart and
made him to sleep. They comforted his wife, and told to her
that there was no death- wound ne peril of his life. Then the
Court brake up ; and the Beasts departed and went to their places
and homes that they came from.

CHAPTER XLIV.

How the Fox with his friends and lineage departed nobly fro JH
the King and went to his castle Malperduys.

REYNART the Fox took his leave honestly of the King and of the
Queen. And they bade him he should not tarry long, but shortly
return to them again.

1 Wryued, rubbed (Dutch, wryven, to rub). a Wood, mad.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 163

He answered and said, " Dear King and Queen, alway at your
commandment I shall be ready, if ye need anything, which God
forbid, I would alway be ready with my body and my good to
help you, and also all my friends and lineage in likewise shall
obey your commandment and desire. Ye have highly deserved
it, God quite it you, and give you grace long to live. And I
desire your license and leave to go home to my wife and children.
And if your good grace will anything, let me have knowledge of
it, and ye shall find me alway ready."

Thus departed the Fox with fair words from the King.

Now who that could set him in Reynart's craft, and could
behave him in flattering and lying as he did, he should I trow
be heard, both with the Lords Spiritual and Temporal. They ben
many, and also the most part, that creep after his way and his
hole. The name that was given to him abideth alway still with
him. He hath left many of his craft in this world which alway
wax and become mighty : for who that will not use Reynart's
craft now is nought worth in the world, nor in any estate that is
of might. But if he can creep in Reynart's net and hath been
his scholar, then may he dwell with us, for then knoweth he well
the way how he may arise, and is set up above of every man.
There is in the world much seed left of the Fox which now overall
groweth and cometh sore up, Though they have no red beards,
yet there ben founden more foxes now than ever were heretofore.
The righteous people ben all lost ; Truth and Righteousness ben
exiled and fordriven ; and for them ben abiden with us Covetyse,
Falsehood, Hate, and Envy; these reign now much in every country.
For is it in the Pope's court, the Emperor's, the King's, Duke's,
or any other lord's, wheresomever it be, each man laboureth to
put other out from his worship, office and power, for to make him-
self to climb high, with lies, with flattering, with simony, with
money, or with strength and force. There is nothing beloved ne
known in the court nowadays but Money. The Money is better
beloved than God. For men do much more therefor : for who-
somever bringeth Money shall be well received, and shall have

164 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

all his desire, is it of lords or of ladies or any other. That Money
doth much harm. Money bringeth many in shame and dread
of life, and bringeth false witness against true people for to get
Money. It causeth uncleanness of living, lying, and lechery.
Now clerks gon to Rome, to Paris, and to many another place,
for to learn Reynart's craft : is he clerk, is he layman, everiche of
them treadeth in the Fox's path, and seeketh his hole. The world
is of such condition now, that every man seeketh himself in all
matters. I wot not what end shall come to us hereof. All wise
men may sorrow well herefor. I fear that for the great falseness,
theft, robbery, and murder, that is now used so much and com-
monly, and also the unshamefast lechery and avoultry,1 bosted,
blowen abroad with the avaunting of the same, that without great
repentance and penance therefor that God will take vengeance and
punish us sore therefor. Whom I humbly beseech, and to whom
nothing is hid, that he will give us grace to make amends to him
therefor and that we may rule us to his pleasure.

And herewith will I leave ; for what have I, to write of these
misdeeds ? I have enough to do with mine own self. And so it
were better that I held my peace and suffer, and the best that I
can, do, for to amend myself now in this time. And so I counsel
every man to do, here in this present life, and that shall be most
our profit. For after this life cometh no time that we may occupy
to our advantage for to amend us. For then shall every man
answer for himself and bear his own burthen.

Reynart's friends and lineage to the number of forty have taken
also their leave of the King, and went all together with the Fox,
which was right glad that he had so well sped and that he stood
so well in the King's grace. He thought that he had no shame,
but that he was so great with the King that he might help and
further his friends, and hinder his enemies, and also to do what
he would without he should be blamed ; if he would be wise.

The Fox and his friends went so long together that they camen
to his burgh to Malperduys, there they all took leave of each

1 Avoultry, adultery*

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 165

other with fair and courteous words. Reynart did to them great
reverence, and thanked them all friendly of their good faith and
also worship that they had done and showed to him. And prof-
fered to each of them his service, if they had need, with body
and goods. And herewith they departed, and each of them went
to their own houses.

The Fox went to Dame Ermelyne his wife, which welcomed
him friendly. He told to her and to his children all the wonder
that to him was befallen in the Court, and forgot not a word, but
told to them every deal how he had escaped. Then were they
glad that their father was so enhanced and great with the King.
And the Fox lived forthon with his wife and his children in great
joy and gladness.

Now who that said to you of the Fox more or less than ye have
heard or read, I hold it for leasing. But this that ye have heard
or read, that may ye believe well. And who that believeth it not,
is not therefore out of the right belief; howbeit there be many
if that they had seen it they should have none less doubt of it.
For there ben many things in the world which ben believed
though they were never seen : also there ben many figures, plays,
founden that never were done ne shaped, but for an example to
the people that they may there learn better to use and follow virtue
and to eschew sin and vices. In like wise may it be by this
book that who that will read this matter, though it be of japes
and bourds, yet he may find therein many a good wisdom, and
learnings by which he may come to virtue and worship. There
is no one man blamed herein ; it is spoken generally. Let
every man take his own part as it belongeth and behoveth, and
he that findeth him guilty in any deal or part thereof, let him
repent and amend him. And he that is verily good, I pray God
keep him therein. And if any thing be said or written herein
that may grieve or displease any man, blame not me but the Fox,
for they be his words and not mine.

Prayeng alle them that shal see this lytyl treatis/ to correcte and

1 66 THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE FOX.

amende/ Where they shal fynde faute/ For I haue not added ne
mysnusshed but haue folowed as nyghe as I can my copye whiche
was in dutche/ and by me william Caxton translated in to this
rude and symple englyssh in thabbey of westmestre. fynysshed
the vj daye of Juyn the yere of our lord 'M.CCCC.Lxxxj. and the
xxj yere of the regne of kynge Edward the iiijth/

ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

II.

ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

Here begynneth the lyfe of the most myscheuoust Robert the Deuyll>
which was afterward* called the seruant of God.

gf fcefel in fgme past, there was a duke in Normandye which
was called Ouberte, the which duke was passynge ryche of goodes,
and also vertuous of lyuynge, and loued and dred God above all
thynge, and dyde grete almesse dedes, and exceeded all other in
ryghtwysnesse and justyce, and most cheualrouse in dedes of
armes and notable actes doynge. This duke helde open house
upon a Crystmasse daye, in a towne which was called Naverne,
upon the Seyne, to the which courte came all the lordes and noble
blode of Normandy. And because this noble duke was not
maryed, his lordes nobles with one assente besought hym to marye
and take a wyfe, to thentente that his lygnage might be multy-
plyed thereby, and that they myght have a ryght heyre to enherite
his landes after his dysceyse. To the whyche request this good
duke answered and sayd : " My lordes, what thynge that ye thynke
best for me to do shall be done, upon a condycyon, in that ye
wyll that I be maryed, that ye puruey me a wyfe accordynge to
my myn estate, for and yf I shall coueyte ony heyre or noblyer of
blode than I am myselfe, that myghte not stand with ryght, and yf
I take one that is not of so noble an house as I am, that sholde
be to me grete shame, and all my lygnage ; wherefore me thynke
it were better that I kepe me as I am, than to do that thynge that
sholde not be myne honeste, and afterwarde repente me." Whan
these wordes were spoken, and well consydered by the lordes that

i;o ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

stode there present, then there rose up a wyse baron, and sayd to
the duke : " My lorde ye speke very wysely, and lyke a noble
prynce, but yf it please your hyeness to gyue audyence and here
me speke, I shall shewe you of a certayne persone of whome ye
shall enjoye yourselfe to here of her, and the whyche ye shall
obteyne I know well." Than answered the duke, and sayd :
" Shewe me then who that persone is." " Gracyous lorde," sayd
the baron unto the duke, " the duke of Bourgone hath a doughter
whyche excedethe al other in beaute, curteyse and deboynayre
wysdome and good maneres, the whiche ye may have yf ye wyll
desyre her, for I knowe well there wyll no man say naye thereto."
To the whiche the good duke answered and said, that lady playsed
hym ryght well, and that the baron had gyven hym good and wyse
counsell. And in short tyme after that, this lady was demaunded
of her fader, the duke of Bourgone, which gave hym her wyllyngly.
And then theyr bridale was kepte honourably, which were to
longe to write.

How the duke of Normandye with grete royalte broughte his wyfe,
the doughter of the duke of Bourgone, in to Roan in Normandy e,
after he had maryed her.

AFTER that the forsayd duke had maryed the sayd ladye, he
brought her with a grete company of barons, knyghtes, and ladyes,
with grete tryumphe and glorye, into the land of Normandye,
and in the cyte of Roan,1 in the which cyte she was honourably
receyued, and with grete melodye; and there was grete amyte
betwene the Bourgonyons and the Normans, which I lete passe
for to come the soner to my mater. The forsayd duke and
duchesse lyued togyder the space of xviii yere without any childe.
Whether it were Godde's wyl it sholde be so, or it were thrtighe
theyr own defaulte, I can not juge, for it were better other whyle
that some people had no chylderne, and also it were better for
the fader and the moder to gete no chyldren, thenne to lacke of
chastysynge, the chyldren and fader and moder sholde al go to
1 Roan, Rouen.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 171

the deuyll : yet was this duke and duchesse deuout people, which
loved and drede God, and gave grete almesse ; and what tyme
this duke wolde meddle with his lady, he euer prayed to God to
sende hym a chylde, to honoure and serue God, and to multyply
and fortyfy his lynage ; but nother with prayer nor with almesse
dedes this good duke and duchesse could gete no chyldren.

How upon a tyme this duke and duchesse walked alone, sore com-
planynge the one to the other that they coude have no chylde
togyder,

UPON a tyme this duke and duchesse walked, and the duke began
to she we his mynde to his ladye, saynge, " Madame, we be not
fortunate in so much that we can gete noo chyldren ; and they
that made the maryage betwene us bothe they dyde grete synne,
for I beleue and ye had been geuen to an other man, ye sholde
haue had chyldren, and I also yf I had another ladye." This
lady understood his sayenge : she answered softly, saynge thus :
" Good lorde, we must thanke God of that which he sendeth us,
and take it pacyently of what so euer it be."

How Robert the Deuyll was conceyued, and how his moder gave him
to the deuyll in his concepcyon.

THIS duke upon a tyme rode oute an hountyng in a grete angre
and pensyfness, for thought that he coulde haue no chylde, sore
complanynge, saynge to hymselfe, I see many women haue many
fayre chyldren in whiche they enjoy gretely, by which I se wel
that I am hated of God, and meruayle it is that I fall not in
dyspare, for it greueth me so sore at my herte that I can gete no
chyldren. The deuyll, which is alwaye redy to deceyue man-
kynde, tempted the good duke, and troubled his mynde so that
he wyst not what to do or say. Thus moued, he left his huntynge
and wente home to his palayes, where he found his ladye also
vexed and moued. As he came home he toke her in his armes,
and kyssed her, and dyde his will with her, sayenge his prayers to

172 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

our Lorde in this wyse : " O ! Lord Jhesu, I beseche the that I
may get a chylde, at this houre, by the whiche thou mayst be
honoured and served." But the ladye being so sore moued,
spake thus folyshly, and said : " In the deuyle's name be it, in so
muche as God hath not the power that I conceyue ; and yf I be
conceyued with chylde in this houre, I gyve it to the devyll, body
and soule." And this same houre that this duke and duches
were thus moued, the sayd lady was conceyued with a man
chylde, whiche in his lyf wrought moche myschefe, as ye shall
here after this, but afterwards he was converted, and dyde grete
penance, and dyed a holy man, as is shewed here after.

How Robert the Deny II was borne, and what great pain his moder
suffered in hys byrthe.

THIS duchesse, as we haue herd before, was conceyued with
the forsayd chylde, which she bare ix monethes as comonly
women goo with chylde ; and ye may well perceyue that this
lady coude not be delyuered without grete payn, for she traueylled
more than a moneth, and yf good prayers had not been, and
almesse dedes, good werkes, and great penance done for her, she
had deyed of chylde, for all the ladyes and gentylwomen that there
were with her wened, she wold -have perysshed and deyed in
traualynge. Wherefore they were gretly abasshed and aferde with
the merueylouse noise and tokens that they herde and se in the
byrth of the said Robert the Deuyll, in that whan this chylde was
borne, the sky waxed as darke as though it had been nyghte, as
it is shewed in olde cronycles, that it thondred and lyghtened so
sore, that men thought the firmament had been open, and all the
worlde sholde haue perysshed. And there blewe soo moche
wynde out of the iiii quarters of the worlde, and was such storme
and tempest, that al the hous trembled so sore, that it shoke a
grete pece of it to the earth, in so moche that all they that were
in the house wened that the worlde had been at an ende, and
that they, with the house and all, sholde haue sonken. But in
shorte tyme it pleased God that all this trouble ceased, and the

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 173

weder clered up, and the chylde was brought to chyrch to be
crystened, whiche was named Robert. This childe was large
of stature at his byrthe as he had been a yere old, whereof the
people had grete wonder ; and as this chylde was a berynge to the
chirche to be crystned and home ayenst, it neuer ceased cryenge
and houlynge. And in shorte space he had longe teeth wher-
with he bote the norshes pappes in such wyse, that there was no
woman durst gyue hym souke, for he bote off the hedes of theyr
brestes ; wherefore they were fayne to gyue hym souke and to
brynge hym up with an home. And whan he was twelve moneth
olde, he coude speke and go alone better than other chyldrne
that were thre yere old. And the elder that this chylde Robert
waxed, more cursted ; and there was no man that coude rule
hym : and whan he founde or coude come by ony chyldrne he
smote and bote and cast stones at them, and brake theyr armes
and legges and neckes, and scratte out theyr eyen owt of theyr
hedes, and therein was all his delyte and pleasure.

How all the chyldren with one assent named this chylde
Roberte the DeuylL

THIS chylde within fewe yeares grewe maruaylously, and more
and more encresed of all, and boldness, and shrewdness, and set
by no correccyon, but was euer smyttynge and tastynge, and
cursed dedes doynge. And some tyme there gadred togyder all
the boyes of the strete to fyghte with him, but whan they se hym
they durst not abyde hym, but cryed one to another, "Here
cometh the wode * Robert!" an other many cryed, " Here cometh
the cursed madde Robert!" and some cryed, "Here cometh
Robert the Deuyll ! " and thus cryenge they voyded all the
stretes, for they durst not abyde and loke hym in the face, and
forthwith the chyldrne that knewe hym with one assente called
hym Roberte the Deuyll, whiche name he kepte durynge his lyfe,
and shall do as longe as the world standeth. Whan this chyld
was seuen yere old or there aboute, the duke his fader seynge and

i Wode, mad.

174 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

consyderynge his wycked condycyons, called hym and sayd unto
hym thus, " My sone me thyncke it necessary and tyme, for me
to gete you a wyse scole mayster, to lerne vertues and doctrine,
for ye be of age ynoughe," and whan the duke had thus sayd, he
betoke 1 his sone to a good dyscreet and wyse scole mayster to rule
and teche hym all good condycyons and maners.

How Robert kylled his scole mayster.

IT fell upon a daye that his scole mayster sholde chastyse Robert
and would have made hym to have lefte his cursed condycyons,
but Robert gate a murderer or bodkin, and thrust his mayster in
the bely that his guttes fell at his fete, and so fell downe deed to
the erth, and Robert threw his boke ayenst the walles in despyte
of his mayster saynge thus now haue I taughte the that never
preste, nor clerke shal correct me, nor be my mayster. And
from thens forth there coude no mayster be founde that was so
bolde to take in hande to teche and correcte this Roberte, but
were glad to let hym alone and have his owne wayes, and he put
hymselfe to uyce and myschefe, and to no maner of vertue nor
grace, nor wolde he lerne for no man lyuynge, but mocked both
God and holy chyrche. And when he came to the churche and
founde the prestes, and clarkes syngynge Goddes seruyce, he
came preuely behind them, and caste ashes or duste in theyr
mouthes in dyspyte of God. And when he sawe any body in the
chyrche besy in their prayers he would come behynde them and
gyue them a sowse in the necke that theyr hedes kyssed the
ground, in so moche that euery body cursed hym for his wycked
dedes doynge. And the duke his fader seynge his myscheuous
dyspocysyon and cursed lyfe of his sone, he was so angry with
hymselfe, that he wyshed hymself many tymes dede and out of
the worlde. And the duchese in lykewyse was gretly moued and
muche sorrowefull by cawse of the myscheuous lyfe of her sone,
saynge in this wyse, " My lord our sone is no we of sufficient age
and able to bere armes, wherefore me thynke it were best that ye

1 Betoke, entrusted.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 175

made hym knyght if than he wolde remembre thordre of knyght-
hode whereby he myght leve his wyckedness." The duke was
here withall content, And Robert had at that tyme but eyghtene
yere of age.

How Robert the Deny II was made knyght by the duke his fader.

THIS duke assembled upon a hye feast of Whitsontyde, all his
barons and nobles of his lande, and the next of his kyn and frendes,
in the presence of whome he called his sone to hym saynge thus,
" Herke my sone Robert, and take hede what I shall tell you, it is
so that by thaduyce of my counsell and good frendes, I am now
aduysed to make you a knyght, to thentent that ye be with other
knyghtes to haunte chevalrye and knyghtes condycions, to
thentente that ye shall leve and forsake your uyces and moost
hatfull lyf." Robert herynge this, answered his fader, " I shall
do your comandment, but as for the odre of knyghthode I set
nothynge thereby, for there is no degre shall cause me leve my
condycyons nor chaunge my lyfe, for I am not in that mynde to
do no better than I have done hetherto, nor to amende for no
man lyuynge." It was the costome of that lande, that on Whit-
sonyght the chyrche shold be watched, and tended with moche
people, and theder cam Robert like a madman, and overthrowynge
al them that came in his waye ferynge nother God nor the Deuyll,
and he was never styll of all the nyght, and in the mornynge whan
it was day Robert was made knyght. Then this duke comaunded
a tournament to be made in the which the said Robert wrought
maystryes, and dyde meruaylous dedes of armes, in kyllynge and
berynge downe hors and man, no man refusynge nor feryinge.
Of some he brake armes and some legges, and bare them thorowe
and kylled them out of hande ; from hym went none unmarked ; in
whiche iustynge Robert kylled x horses. The duke herynge how
his sone myscheued and murdred all that came in his handes he
went hymself into the tournament and comaunded upon a grete
payne to sease and ren no more. Then Robert rored for anger as
he had ben wode and wolde, not obeye his faders comaundement

176 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

but abode styl in the fylde smytynge some that he kylled of the
moste valiauntes that thether were comen to tournaye. Than euery
man cryed upon Robert to cease, but it auayled not, for he wolde
not cease for no man, nor was there no man so bolde to encountre
hym, for bycause that he was so stronge this Robert dyde so
moche myschefe that all the people were in a rore, and assembled
all with one assent in a great angre and ranne to the duke com-
playnynge, saynge thus : " Lorde, ye be gretely to blame that ye
suffre your sone to do as he dothe ; we beseche yow for goddes
sake to fynde some remedye for hym, to cause hym to cease or
leue his mysrule."

How Robert the Deuyll rode about the countree of Normandy,
robbynge, stelynge, morderynge, and brennynge chyrches^ abbayes
and other holy places of relygyon, andforsynge of women.

THAN whan Robert se there was no man more lefte in the felde,
and that he coude do no more myschef there, than he toke his
horse with the spores to seke his aventures, and began to do every
day more harm than other one, for he forsed and rauysshed
maydens and wyues without nombre, he kylled murdred so moche
people, that it was pyte, also he robbed chyrches, abbayes, hermy-
tages, and fermes, there was not an abbaye in all the countrey
but he robbed and pylled them. These wycked dedes of Robert
came to the eres of the good duke, and all they that were thus
robbed and rebuked came to complayne of the grete outrage and
suppressyon done by Robert, and styll was doynge thorowe out
all the countree. One sayd, " My lorde, youre sone hathe forsed
my wyfe," another sayd, " he hath rauyshed my doughter," the
other sayd, " he hath stolen my goodes, and robbed my hous ; "
and other sayd, "he hath wounded me to deth," with many
semblable offences. Thus lay they greuously complanynge before
the good duke, that grete pyte it was there for to se the good
duke herynge the greuous and lamentable complayntes of the
great murdre done by Robert his sone, thoroughout all the lande
of Normande. Than his herte was suppressed with so grete

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 177

sorrowe and thought, that the salt teres breste out of his eyen, and
he wepte tenderly and sayd ; " O ryght wyse God creatoure of
heaven and erth, I haue so many tymes prayed ye to send me a
chylde and all my delyte was to haue a son, to the entente that I
myght of hym have grete joye, and solace. And now haue I one,
the whiche doth my herte soo moche payne, sorowe and thought
that I wote in no wyse what to begyn, nor doo, nor saye thereto,
but good Lorde onely I crye upon the for helpe, and remedye to
be a lytel released of my payne and sorowe."

How the duke sent out men of armes for to take Robert his

which Roberte toke them all, and pit out theyr eyen in dyspyte
of his fader, and sente them so home agayne.

THERE was a knyght of the Dukes hous, whiche perceyued that
this good duke was uery sorrowfull and pensyfe, and knewe no
remedy ; then this knyght spake and sayd to hym : " My lorde,
I wold aduyse you to sende for your sone Robert and let hym
be brought to your presence, and there before your nobles, and
nexte frendes to rebuke hym, and than commaund hym to leaue
hys cursed lyf, and yf he wyll not, ye to do justice upon hym as
on a straunge man." Hereto the duke consented, and thought
the knyght gaue hym good counsell, and incontynent he sente out
men to seke Robert, and in ony wyse they were to brynge hym to
hys presence. This Robert, herynge of the complayntes made of
all the people upon hym unto hys fader, and that his fader had sent
out men to take hym, wherefore all them that he coude gete, he
put out theyr eyen, and so he toke the men that his fader sende
for hym, and put out theyr eyen in despyte of his fader. And whan
he had thus blynded his fader's seruauntes, he sayd to them in
mockynge, " Syrs, nowe shall ye slepe the better ; go now home
to my fader, and tell hym that I set lytel by hym, and bycause
he sendeth you to brynge me to hym, therefore to hys dyspyte
1 have put out your eyen." These poore seruauntes whiche the
duke had sent for Robert his sone, came home with great payne
and in grete heuynesse saynge thus : " O good lorde se howe

M

i;8 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

youre sone Robert that ye dyde send us for hath arayed us, and
blynded us." The good duke seynge his men in this case, he
waxed very angry, and full of yre and began to compasse in his
mynde how and by what meanes he myght come by to take
Robert his sone.

How t/ie duke of Normandy made a proclamation throughout his
lande, how men sholde take Robert his sone, ivith al his com*
pany, and brynge them every chone to pry son.

THAN spake a wyse lorde, sayinge thus, "My lorde take noo
more thought, for ye shall never se the day that Robert your sone
wyll come in your presence, in so moche as he hath done so great
and greuouse offences to your comons, and your owne messen-
gers that ye sende for hym. But it were of necessite for you to
correct and punysshe hym for hys great offences, that he dayly
doth, and hath done, for we fynde it wryten, that the lawe
byndeth you therto." The duke, wyllynge to accomplyshe the
councel of his lordes, sende out messangers in all the hast, unto
all the portes, good townes and barons, throughout all his duke-
dome, commandynge on his behalfe all shryues, baylufes, or other
offycers to do theyr uttermoost dylygence to take Robert his sone
prysoner and to holde and kepe hym surely in pryson with all
his company and affinyte. Whan Roberte herde of this proclama-
tion, he with all his company were sore aferde of the dukes
malyce and whan Robert se this he was almost out of his wyt for
wode angre, and wheted hys teeth lyke a bore, and sware a grete
othe saynge thus, " that he wolde have open war with his fader,
and subdewe and spyll all his lordshyppe."

How Robert made hym a strong hous in a darke thy eke wyldernes
where he wrought myscheff without comparyson and aboue al
mesure or natural reason.

THEN whan Robarte herde and knewe of the forsayd thynges, he
lete make in a thycke wylde foreste a stronge house, wherein he
made his dwellynge place, and this place was wylde and strong,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 179

and more meter for wylde beestes, than for any people to abyde
in, and there Robert assembled and gadered for his company, all
the moost myscheuouste and falsest theues that he coude fynde
or heere of in his faders lande, to wete morderers, theires, strete-
robers, rebelles, brenners of chyrches and houses, forsers of
women, robbers of chyrches, and the moost wyckeste and curseste
theues that were under the sone, Robert had gadered to doo hym
seruyce ; wherof he was Capytayne. And in the forsayd wyl-
dernesse, Robert wyth his company dyde so moche myschefe,
that no tonge can tell. He mordred marchauntes, and all that
came by the waye, no man durst loke out nor come abrode for
fere of Robert and his company, of whome every man was aferde ;
for they robbed all the countree, in so moche, that no man durst
loke out, but they were kylled of Robert or his men. Also poore
pelgremes that went on pelgremage were murdered by Robert
and his company, in so moche, that euery man fledde from them,
lyke as the shepe fledde from the wolfe : for they were as
wolues warynge, sleyinge all that they coude come by, and thus,
Robert and his company ledde an ungracious lyfe. Also he was
a grete glotten of etynge and drynkynge, and neuer fastynge,
though it were neuer so great a fastynge daye. In Lente, or on
Vmber dayes, he ete flesshe, as well on Frydayes as on Sondayes ;
but after he had done all this myschefe, he suffred grete payne,
as hereafter ye shal here.

Haw Robert the Deuyll killed vii heremytes.

IT befell upon a tyme that Robert, whiche euer imagyned and
studyed in his mynde howe and by what meane he might doo
moost myschefe and murdre, as he had ben ever accustomed
before he rode out of his hous or theuyshe neste to seke his
pray, and in the myddel of the wode he sawe vii hooly hermytea,
to whome he rode as faste as he coulde with his swerde redy
drawen, lyke a man oute of his mynde, and there he slewe this
vii heremytes, the whiche were bolde and good men, but they
were so vertuous and hoi)-, that they suffred the marterdomq for

i8o ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

the loue of God. And whan he had slayne these vii devout men,
he spake in mockage, and said : " I haue founde here a neste of
a many pope holy sons whome I haue shauen them crounes : I
trovve they be dronke ; they were wonte to knele upon theyr
knees, and now they lye upon theyr backes." There dyde
Robert a cursed dede and blode shedynge, in despyte of God
and holy chyrche ; and after that he hadde done this myscheuous
dede he rode out of the wode lyke a deuyll out of helle, semynge
worse thenne wode, and his clothes were all dyed rede with the
blode of the people that he had murdred and slayne, and thus
arayed he rode ouer the feldes, and clothes, handes, face, all were
rede of the blode of the holy heremytes, whiche he had so pyte-
ously murdred in the wyldernesse.

How Robert the Deuyll rode to his moder the duchesse of Normandye,
beynge in the castell of Darques : she was come to afeste.

ROBERT rode so ferre and so longe, that he came to the castell of
Darques ; but he mette before with a shypherde which had tolde
him that his moder the duchesse should come of the said castell
to dyner, and so he rode theder. But whan Robert came there,
and the people see hym come, they ranne awaye frome hym, lyke
the hare frome the houndes ; one ranne and shette hym in hys
house, an other ranne into the chyrche for fere. Robert seynge
this, that all the people fled from hym for fere, he began to sygh
in his herte, and sayd to hymself, — " O ! Almyghty God, how may
this be, that every man thus fleeth from me ! Nowe I perceyue
that I am the moost myscheuouste and the moost cursedest
wretche of this worlde, for I sente better to be a Jewe or a Sara-
syne, than any Crysten man, and I se wel that I am worste of
all yll. Alas ! sayd Robert the Deuyll, I may well hate and curse
mine ungracyous and cursed lyfe, wherfore I am worthy to be
hated of God and the worlde." In this minde and heuynesse came
Robert to the castell gate, and lyghte downe from his horse, but
there was no man that durste abyde about hym, nor come nyghe
hym to holde his horse ; and he hadde no seruante to serue hym,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 181

but let his horse stande there at the gate, and drewe out his
swerde, whiche was all blody, and incontynente toke the waye
unto the halle, where the duchesse his moder was. Whan the
duchesse sawe Robert her sonne come in this wyse, with a blody
swerde in his hande, she was sore aferde, and wolde haue flede
a way frome hym, for she knewe wel his condycyons. Robert,
seynge that euery body dyde flee from hym, and that his owne
moder wolde haue fledde in lykewyse, he called unto her pyteously
afarre, and said : " Swete lady moder, be not aferde of me, but
stande styl tyl I haue spoken with you, and flee not from me, in
the worshyp of Crystes passyon ! " Than Roberte's herte beynge
full of thought and repentaunce, wente nygher her, saynge thus :
" Dere lady moder, I praye and requyre you tell me how and by
what manner or wherby cometh it that I am soo vycyous and
curste, for I knowe wel I haue it other by you or of my fader ;
wherefore incontynent I hertly desyre and praye you that ye
shewe me the trouth hereof."

How the Duchesse desyred Robert her sone to smyte of her hede, and
than she tolde him hoive she had gyuen hym to the deuyll in his
concepcyon.

THE duchesse had gretly meruaylynge whan she herde her sone
speke these wordes; and piteously wepynge, with a sorrowful
herte saynge thus to hym : " My dere sone, I requyre you hertly
that ye wyll smyte of my heed." This sayd the lady, for very grete
pyte that she had upon hym, for bycause she had gyuen hym to
the deuyll in his concepcyon. Robert answerde his moder with
an hevy and a pityeous chere, saynge thus : " O ! dere moder,
why sholde I do so, that so moche myschefe have done, and this
sholde be the worste dede that euyer I dyde ; but I praye you to
shewe me that I desyre to wete * of you." Then the duchesse,
herynge his hertely desyre, tolde unto hym the cause why he was
so vicious and full of myschefe, and how she gaue hym to the
deuyll in his concepcyon, herselfe myspraysynge, said thus unto

1 Wete, know.

i8- ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

Roberta : " O ! sonne, I am the moost unfortunate woman lyu-
ynge, and I knowledge that it is all my faute that ye be soo cursed
and wycked a leuer."

How Robert the Deuyll toke leue of his moder.

ROBERT herynge his moders saynge he fell downe to the erthe
into a swone, for very grete sorowe, and laye styll a longe whyle,
than he remeued agayne and came to hymself and began bytterly
to wepe, and complayne, saynge thus : " The fendes of hell be
with grete dylygence to applye theym to gete and haue my body
and soule, but nowe from this tyme forthe, I forsake theym and all
theyr werke, and wyll neuer do more harme but good, and amende
my lyfe and leue my synes and do penaunce therefore." Than
after this Robert spake to his moder, the whiche was in grete
sorowe, and heuynesse saynge thus : " O moost reuerente lady
moder, I hertely beseche and requyre you that it wilde please
you to haue me recommaunded unto my fader ; for I wyll take
the waye to Rome to be assoyled of my synnes, which are innu-
merable, and to abhomynable to recounte. Therefore I wyll
neuer slepe one nyght there I slepe an other, tyll I come at Rome
and god wyll."

How Robert departed from his moder, and rode into the wyldernesse
where hefounde his companye.

ROBERT in grete haste lyght upon his horse and rode to the wode
where he had lefte his companye the whiche he founde. The
duchesse made grete lamentacyon for her sone Robert, whiche
had taken his leue of her, and sayd many tymes to herselfe,
"Alas what shall I do, for it is all my faute that Roberte my sone
hath done so moche myschefe : " and in the meane whyle that
the duchesse made this sorowe and bewayllynge for her sone
Robert, in came the duke into the chambre, and as soone as she
sawe hym she began to tell hym of his sone Robert, pyteously
wepynge ; shewynge hym what he had sayd and done, Than the

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 183

good duke axed whether Robert were disposed to leue his vycyous
lyfe, and yf he were sory for his grete offences. " Ye my lorde/'
sayd she, " he is sore repentatmce : " then began the Duke sore
to sygh, and sayd, " Alas it is all in vayne, that Robert thynketh
to do, for I fere he shall neuer have power to make restytycyon of
the hurtes and harmes the whiche he hathe doone in his lyfe. But
I beseche Almyghty God to prolonge his lyfe, and sende hym a
respyte that he may amende hys lyfe, and do penaunce for his
synnes."

How Robert the Deuyll tolde his company he wolde goo to Rome for
to be assoyled of his synnes.

Now is Robert come agayne to his companye which he founde
syttynge at dyner, and whan they sawe hym they rose up and
dyde hym reuerence ; than Robert began to rebuke theym for
theyr vycyous lyuynge sayynge thus, " My welbeloued felowes, I
requyre you in the reuerence of God, that ye wyll herken, and
take hede to this that I shall shewe you. Ye knowe well how that
we haue ledde hetherto an ungracyous and moost uycyous lyfe,
robbed and pylled chyrches, forced women, rauysshed maydens,
robbed and kylled marchauntes. We have robbed and kylled
nonnes, holy aunkers,1 preestes, clerkes, and many other people
without nombre haue we murdred and robbed, wherefore we be
in the way of endles dampnacyon, except that God haue mercy
upon us. Wherefore I requyre you everychone for goddes sake
that ye wyll chaunge your opynyon, and leue your abhomynable
synnes, and do penaunces therefor, for I wyll goo to Rome to be
shryuen and to haue penaunce for my synnes." When Robert
thus had sayd, one of the theues rose and sayd to his companye
in mockage, " Nowe Syrs, take hede the Foxe wyll be an Aunker
for he begynneth to preche. Robert mocketh fast with us, for
he is our captayne, and doth more harme alone than all we do :
how thynke ye wyll he be longe thus holy." Yet sayd Robert,
"Gentyll felawes I praye you for goddes sake leue your con-

1 Aunkers, anchorites.

lS4 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

dycyons, and thynke on our soule, and do penaunce for your
moost fellest stynkynge synnes, and crye upon oure lorde for
mercy and forgeueness, and he wyl forgeue you." Whan Robert
had sayd thus, than spake to hym one of the theues and sayd,
" I praye you mayster be in pease, for it auayleth not what ye
saye, ye do but spende your tyme in wast, for I nor my companye
wyll not amende our lyfe for no man lyuynge." And all his
companye commended his saynge, and sayden all with one voyce,
"He sayth trewe, for and we sholde dye, we wyll not leue our
olde condycyons and cursed lyfe, but and yf we haue done moche
hurte hetherto, we wyll do moche more hereafter."

How Robert the Deuyll killed all his companye.

ROBERT herynge the faste and wycked opynyon and myscheuous
purpose of his company waxed angry, and thought, yf they remayne
and abyde styll here, they wyl doo grete myschefe and murdre.
But he wente preuely unto the dore and shyte it fast, and gate a
grete staffe and layde one of the theues on the hede that he fell
downe and deed to the erth. And so he serued one after an
other, tyll he hadde kylled them everychone, thenne sayd he thus
to them, " Syrs, I haue rewarded you after your deserte, and by
cause ye have done me good seruyse, I haue gyuen you good
wages, for whosoeuer serueth a good mayster he is lyke to haue
good wages." Whan Robert thus had done he wolde have brente
the hous, but he consydered the great good that was therin,
wherfore he let it stande, shytte faste the dores about and locked
them, and brought awaye the keye with hym to his faders.

How Robert the Deuyll sente the keye of his chefe hous or theuysshe
lodgynge to his faders the duke of Normandye, and how he
wente to Rome.

THAN whan Robert had done all that said is, he tooke up his
hande and blessed hym, and rode through the forest the neere
waye to Rome. Robert rode that daye so long tyll that the nyght

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES, 185

came on, and was passynge sore and hongred, for he had eten
no mete of all that daye, and fortuned to come rydynge by an
Abbaye, whyche he had many tymes robbed, and the abbote was
his kynnessman. And Robert rode in to this abbaye and sayd
neuer a worde, but whan the monkes se Robert come they were
aferde, and ranne awaye, saynge one to another, " Here cometh
the ungracyous Robert, the Deuyll hath brought him hether."
Whan Robert herde this, and se them all renne awaye frome him,
than his sorrowe begun to renewe, and sayd in himself, in sore
syghynge and sorowfull herte : "I may well hate my cursed lyfe,
for euery man fleeth from me, and I haue spent my tyme un-
gracyously, and in euyll and cursed werkes." And there withall
he rode streyght in the chyrche dore and alyghte doun from his
horse, deuoutely sayinge his prayers to God in this wyse : u O
Lord Jhesu I moost synfull wretche and vessell of all stynkynge
synnes, I praye the that thou wylte haue mercy on me and
. preserue and kepe me from all daungers and peryll." And then
he wente and spoke to the abbotte and monkes so swetely and so
peteously and amyably that they began to go towarde hym, to
whom Roberte sayd peteously, wepynge knelynge on his knees :
" My lorde I knowledge myself that I haue greuously offended
you, and haue done grete harme and injurye unto your abbay.
Wherfore I requyre and praye you, in all the honoure of Crystes
passyon, of forgyuenesse." And than he spake to the Abbote
in thys wyse, " My Lorde abbott I praye you hertely haue me
recomaunded to my lorde my fader the duke of Normandye, and
delyuer hym this keye of the chefe hous where I haue dwelled
with my companye, the whiche I haue all slayne to thentent that
they sholde do no more harme. And in the hous lyeth all the
goodes and tresoure that I haue stolen from you and other men,
wherfore I am ryght sory, and I beseeche you of forgyuenesse,
and I pray you that this good may be rendred agene unto such
people as they haue belongynge to before." Robert abode that
nyght in the abbay, but in the mornynge erly he wente thens and
left behinde hym his horse and his swerde where withall he had
doone grete myschefe. And so he went alone towards Rome.

1 86 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

And on the same daye rode the Abbote to the Duke of Nor-
mandye, and gaue hym the keye that Robert had delyuered hym,
and told the duke how he was gone to Rome. Than the duke
gaue all the poor people theyr goodes agen that they lost befor,
as ferre as it coude be founde in the hous. We wyll sease of
the Duke and the Abbott, and speke of Robert whiche goth to
Rome warde alone, with grete devocyon.

How Robert came to Rome for remyssyon of his synnes.

ROBERT went so longe ouer hylles and dales alone, tyli at last
with grete payne and pouerte he came to Rome in to the cyte,
upon a shere Thursdays at nyght, and on the Fry daye after, the
pope hymselfe sayd the deuyne seruyce, as the custom was in
saint Peter's chyrche. And Robert presed fast to have comen to
the pope, but the pope's seruantes se that Robert presed so sore
to come to the pope, they smote hym, and bad hym goo back.
But the more they smote hym, the more he presed and thronge to
gette nygh the pope, and so at last he gate to hym, and fell doune
on his knees at the feet of the pope, cryenge with a loud voyce,
saynge thus : " O ! holy fader, haue mercy on me ! " and thus
laye Robert cryenge longe, whyle the people that were by the pope
were angry that Robert made suche a noyse, and wolde haue
dryuen hym thens, but the pope seynge Robert's grete desyre, had
pyte upon hym, and sayd to the people, " Late hym alone, for in all
that I can se he hath grete deuocyon." Wherefore the pope com-
maunded them all to holde their pease, that he myght the better
here and understande Robert. Then sayd Robert to the pope" in
this manner : " O ! holy fader, I am the moost and the greteste
syner of all the worlde ! " The pope toke Robert up by the hande,
and sayde to hym : " Good frende, what is your desyre, and what
eleth you to make all this noyse ? " Then sayd Robert : " O !
holy fader, I beseche you to here my confessyon, for I be not by
you assoyled, I am dampned worlde withouten ende, for it is
meruayle that the deuyll bere me not awaye body and soule,
.seynge the foule innumerable synne that I am laden and bounden

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 187

withall more than any man lyuynge. And in soo moche that ye
are he that gyueth helpe and comforte to them that haue nede,
therefore I humbly beseche you for the passyon of our Lorde
Jhesu Cryst to here and purge me of my abhomynable synnes,
wherby I am deceued and departed from al the joyes of heuen,
and I am wors than a Jewe." The pope herynge this, demed
and thought in hymselfe whether this were Robert the Deuyll,
and axed hym, " Sone, be ye Robert the whiche I haue herde
so moche spekynge of, the whiche is worst of all men." Then
Robert answered and sayd, "Ye." Than the pope sayd : "I will
assoyle you, but I conjure you in the name of God that ye do
no man harme." The pope and all that were aboute hym were
aferde to loke upon Robert. Robert fell on his knees with great
deuocyon and repentaunce of hys synnes, saynge, " Holy fader,
nay as longe as I lyue I promyse God and his blessed moder I
will neuer hurte Crysten creature." Than incontynent the pope
toke Robert aparte, and herde his confessyon, to whome Robert
shrowe him deuoutly, shewynge how his moder had gyuen hym
to the deuyll in his concepcyon, whereof the pope was sore
aferde.

How the pope sente Robert thre myle without Rome to an holy
heremyte.

THE pope this herynge was gretly abasshed, and blessyd him, and
sayd to Robert : " My dere sone, ye muste goo thre myle with-
out the tovvne, and there ye shall fynde an heremyte whiche is my
goostly fader, and to hym ye shall confesse you, and say that I
sende you to hym, and he shall asoyle you." Robert answered
the pope : " I wyll go with a good wyll ; " and toke his leue of
the pope saynge, " God gyue me grace to do that may be to the
helth of my soule." Soo that nyght Robert abode in Rome, for
it was late, and in the mornynge erly Robert went out of Rome
towarde the place where he sholde fynde the heremyte ; and so
he wente so longe over hylles and dales with grete desyre to be
shryuen of his synnes, and at last he came where the heremyte

•i 88 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

dwelled, whereof he was glad, and came to the heremyte and told
hym how the pope had sent hym theder to be confessed of hym.
Than the heremyte sayd he was hertly welcome ; and within a
whyle Robert began to confesse and shewe his synne, and first he
shewed the heremyte how his moder had gyuen hym to the deuyll
in his concepcyon ; and how he smote the chyldren in his youth
or he coude goo alone ; and how he kylled his scole master ; and
how many knyghtes he kylled at the iustynge whan his fader made
hym knyght ; and he rode thorowe his fader's land, robbynge and
stelynge, forsynge of women, rauysynge of maydens ; and how he
t'nrast out the eyen of his fader's men in despyte of hym ; and
how he had kylled vii heremytes ; and shortly showed hym all
the offences that euer he dyde, sethen the houre of hys byrth tyll
that tyme, whereof the heremyte had maruayle, but he was glad
that Robert was repentaunt for hys synnes. Whan Robert had
thus confessed hym, the heremyte sayd to hym : " Sone, thys
nyght ye shall abyde here, and to morrowe I shall gyue good
councell of that ye haue to do." Robert that was so curst and
myscheuous, ferful cruel, and proude as a lyon, is now as gentyll
and curteys, and swete of wordes, and wyse in his dedes, as euer
was ony duke or pry nee lyuynge. Then Robert was so wery and
ouercome with goynge, that he coude nother ete nor drynke, but
went aparte and sayd his prayers to Almighty God, prayenge hym
thrughe his endeles mercy, that he wolde kepe hym from the
fendes temptacyon and deceyte. The heremyte made Robert to
lye that nyght in a lytell chapell that stode nye his celle, and the
heremyte prayed all the nyght to our lorde for Robert, which sawe
that he had grete repentaunce for his synnes, and thus prayenge
the heremyte fell a sleep.

How God sent an aungell to the heremyte to shewe him the penaunce
that he sholde gyue to Robert for his synnes.

THE heremyte being thus a slepe, ther cam to hym an aungell,
saynge to hym in this wyse : " Holy fader, here and take hede
of the message that God commaundeth the ; yf that Robert wyll

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 18$

be shryven of his synnes, he must kepe and counterfete the wayes
of a fole, and be as he were dombe ; and he may ete no maner
of mete, but that he can take it from the dogges ; and in this
wyse, without spekynge, and counterfetynge the fole, and no thynge
etynge but what he can take from the dogges, must he be tyll
tyme that it please God to shewe hym that his synne be for-
gyuen." And with this vycyon the heremyte awoke out of his
slepe, and began to remembre hymselfe of this that sayd is, and
thanked our Lorde of his message done to hym. And whan the
day began to apere, the heremyte called Robert unto hym, with
fare and comfortable wordes saynge to him, " My frende, come
hether to me ; " and incontynent Robert came to hym with grete
deuocyon, hym confessynge. And whan Robert had shryuen
him, the heremyte sayd thus unto hym : " Sone, I thought and
aduysed me of the penance that ye shall haue, to get remyssyon
of your synnes, in whiche ye gretly offended ayenst God, that is
to wete ye must counterfayte and playe the fole ; and ye may ete
no mete but that ye can take it from the dogges whan men gyue
them ought ; also you must kepe you dombe without speche, and
lye among dogges, for thus hath God thys nyght commaunded
me by a aungell to gyue you this for your penaunce, and ye may
offende no man the whyle your penaunce be a doynge ; and this
penaunce ye must doo for your synnes in maner and forme as I
haue tolde you, tyll suche tyme as it shall please your Lorde to
sende you worde that your synnes be forgyuen." Robert beynge
mery and glad, thankynge our Lorde that he was assoyled of his
synnes, and had therfor so lyght penaunce as hym thought that
it was. Nowe taketh Robert leve of the heremyte, and goth to
do his sharpe penaunce, whiche he helde but lyghte, remembrynge
his grete abhomynable stynkynge synnes that he hath done all
the dayes of his lyfe. This was a fayre myracle, for he that
was so vycyous and so furyous a rebell, and proude a synner,
is now so full of uertues and fayre condycyons and tame as
a lambe.

I9Q ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

How Robert the Deuyll toke leve of the heremyte^ and went agayne
to Rome to do his penaunce that the heremyte had gyuen him.

ROBERT had taken leue of the heremyte, and is gone towarde
Rome, there for to do his penaunce. And whan he came into
the cyte he began to lepe and renne about the stretes, makynge
hymselfe as he had ben a fole. And the chyldrer* in the stretes se
Robert renne in this wyse, and they after hym shoutynge and
cryenge and castynge with myre and derte, and all suche fylth as
they founde in the stretes, and the burgeyses of the cyte laye in
theyr wyndowes and laughed and mocketh with Robert. Than
whan Robert had thus played the fole in Rome a certayne season,
he came on a tyme to themperour's courte and se the gate dyde
stande open and came streyght into the hall, and there jetted up
and downe from the one syde to the other ; sometyme he went
faste and sometyme softely, and than he hopped and ran, and other
whyle stode styll, but he stode not longe in one place, The
emperour seynge Robert thus playenge the fole, he sayd to one
of his seruantes, se yonder is a, fayre fauoured yonge man, me
thynke he is out of his mynde, the whiche is, grete domage, for
he is fayre and a well made man, go and gyue hym mete. This
emperour's seruaunte dyde as he was commaunded, and called
Robert to hym and wolde have gyuen hym some mete, but Robert
nolde ete nor drynke. And whyle Robert sate thus at the table,
the emperour sawe one of his houndes whiche was bytten with
an other dogge, wherefore, themperour cast hym a bone, and the
dogge caught the bone and began to gnawe there on, and Robert
seynge that lept from the table and toke it from hym, but the
dogge fought with Roberte for the bone, and helde faste the one
ende, and Robert the other ende, but Robert se it would be no
better,' but set him downe on the grounde, and gnewe on the one
ende of the bone and the dogge on the other. Themperour and
they that loked there on laughed at Robert and the dogge, but.
Robert dyde so moche that he gate the bone alone, and laye and
gnewe it for he was sore enhongred. Themperour seynge that

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 191

Robert was so sore enhongred, he caste to an other dogge an hole
lofe, but Robert toke it from hym and brake an two peces and
gaue the dogge half, for bycause he gate it for the dogges sake.
Themperour seynge this lough there at and sayd to his seruauntes ;
" We haue here no we the moste foolysshe fole, and the verayst
nedy that euer I sawe, for he taketh the dogges mete from them,
and eteth it himself; ther by a man may perfytely knowe that he
is a natural fole." All that were in the hall gaue the dogges as
moche mete as they might ete, to thentent that Robert myght fyll
his belye with them, and whan he had fylled his belly, whyle he
rose up, and walked up and downe in the hall with a stafTe in his
hande, smytynge upon stoles and benches lyke as and yf he had
ben a very innocent fole. And thus walkynge he loked on euery
syde, and sawe a dore where men wente in to a fayre gardyne,
in the whiche gardyne there stode a fayre fontayne or well, and
theder went Robert to drynke, for he was euyll a thurst And
whan nyght came on, Robert folowed the forsayd dogge where
soo euer he wente, the whiche was accustomed to lye euery nyght
under a steyre, and there he went and layde him downe; and
Robert followed hym under the steyre and layde hym downe by
the dogge. Themperour seynge this, had compassyon on Robert
and commaunded that men sholde bere hym a bedde, that he
myghte lye there upon to slepe; anone two seruantes brought
Robert a bedde to slepe there on, but he poynted to bere it
awaye ayene, for he had leuer to lye upon the floure and colde
erth, than upon a softe bedde. Whereof themperour had grete
meruayle, and commaunded that men sholde bere hym clene
strawe, whiche they dyde. Than Robert whiehe was feynte and
wery of goynge, layde him downe to slepe on the strawe. Now
haue this in your myndes, ye proude hertes and synners, thynke
on Roberts grete penaunce and wylfull pouerte, and how he so
grete a gentylman borne, forsoke his fader and his moder, and
all his frendes, and his countree and lande, and all his dylycate
metes and drynkes, and gaye raymentes and wordely pleasure,
with all that of suche a state aperteyneth ; how wyllyngly he hathe
all forsaken for the saluacyon of his soule ; and is gone out of

j92 ROBERT TtiE DEVYLL.

a duke's bedde to a dogges canell, and with dogges he ete and
dranke and slepte, and rose whan they rose. And in this penaunce
lyued Robert vii yeres or there aboute, and the dogge that he
communly slept withall perceyued that he foure the better, and
had more mete for Robert's sake, than he was wonte to haue
before, and that no man dyde bete hym, for his sake; wherfore he
began to loue Robert passynge well, in so moche men myghte as
soone haue kylled hym as dryuen hym from Robert.

Hoiv Robert threwe downe a bryde on a foule dongehyll, and how he
put a lyuynge catte in an hole sethynge potte with podred befe.

IT befel upon a tyme there was a bryde sholde goo to chyrche to
be wedded, whiche was gayly apparelled, as unto a bryde apper-
teyned. Robert seynge this bryde thus gayly arayed, toke her by
the hande, and ledde her thorough a passynge foule donge hyll,
and there made her fall and fouled her gaye araye, and than he
ranne lyghtly awaye, shoutynge and laughynge, and ranne unto
the brydes kytchen where her dyner was appereyled and caughte
a lyuynge catte and caste her in the potte of pouldred befe. The
whiche incontynente was tolde to themperoure, whereat he and
all his lordes laughed, and had grete game thereat; and they
loued Robert passynge well, for he made moche myrth without
harme.

How the Seneschall had gadred a grete armye of men of warre of
Saresyns, and, layde syege to Rome^ by cause the cmperoure
wolde not gyue hym his doughter in maryage.

IN the meane season whyle Robert was thus in Rome doynge his
penaunce as a forsayd, which dured seuen yeres or there about in the
emperoure's courte, the whiche emperour had afayre doughter, but
she was borne domband neuer spoke. And the emperours senesshal
dyuerse tymes had desyred his doughter in maryage of the emper-
oure,but he wolde neuer graunte hym her. Wherfore the senesshall
was gretly moued and angry ther with themperoure, for he thoughte

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 193

he myght haue wonne of hym his empyre by force and myght ; in
;-:oo moche the seneschall came upon a tyme with a grete hoost
of Sarasyns, and layde syege to the cyte of Rome, wherof the
emperour had grete maruayle and wondred. Than the emperour
gadred and assembled all the lordes barons askinge of them
counsell, saynge thus, " My lordes, gyue me good counseyl that
we may withstande this Hethen dogges whiche haue layde syege
here to our cyte ; wherefore I take grete thought, for they kepe all
my lande under theyr stibieccyon and they wyll brynge us to con-
fusyon yf that God out of his endles mercy helpe us not. Wherfore
I praye you euerychone to go fyght with them with all our power
and myght, and dryue them awaye." Than answered the lordes
and knyghts all with one assent, saynge, " Souerayne lorde your
counseyl is good and wyse, wherefore we be all ready to goo with
you and gyue them batayle and defende our ryght bothe lande
and cyte." The emperour thanked them of this answere and
was glad therof, and made proclamacyon throughout all his
landes and cytees that eury man old and younge that were
able to bere armes sholde make them redy to fyght ayenst
theyr moost cruell enmyes the Sarasyns which were come into
his lande. And contynent whan this proclamation was done
amonge the comyns euery man was wyllynge and redy to go
with themperour to fyght and defende theyr ryght, and so they
went forth in a fayre ordynaunce with themperour to fyght upon
theyr mortall enmyes the Hethen dogges. And for all that
themperour had moche mo people than the seneschall, yet the
seneshall had wonne the felde, hadde not God of his grace sente
theder Robert to resyste and helpe the Romaynes in theyr grete
necessyte.

How our Sauyour Jhesu hauynge compassyon on the crysten blode,
sent Robert by an aungell a whyte horse and harneys, com-
maundynge hym to go rescue and helpe the Romayns ayenst
the Ethen dogges the Sarasyns.

THE emperour and the Romayns went to the batayle as sayd
is ayenst the Sarasyns, and Robert was at home, where he

N

194 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

was accostomed to walke in the gardyne to a fountayne or
well to drynke, and this was on the same daye that themper-
our with his hoste sholde gyue batayle ayenst the Sarasyns :
than came there a uoyce out of Heuen sente from our Lorde,
saynge in this maner : " Robert, God commaundeth you, by me,
that ye incontynent arme you with this harneys, and lyght upon
this horse that God hath sente you, and ryde in all the hast
possyble and rescue the emperour and his people." Robert
herynge the commaundement of God, was abasshed in his mynde,
and durst not do ayenst goddes commaundement, but in con-
tynent he armed hym and lepte on the hors without tarynge and
rode his waye. The emperour's doughter whiche I tolde you of
before, stode at a wyndowe and sawe Robert thus armed on
horsbacke, than if she coude haue spoken she wolde haue tolde
it, but she coude not speke for she was dombe, but she remembred
and bare it surely in her mynde. Robert thus horst and harnayst,
rode into themperours hoost whiche he sawe sore ouer pressed
with theyr enmyes the Turkes, in so moche, that had not God
and Robert rescued them, the crysten had ben all slayne. But
whan Robert was come into the hoost he put him in the moost
prese of the Turkes and faughte and layde on eche syde on these
cursed houndes ; there a man myght haue sene armes, legges,
hedes tomble on the grounde, both horse and man that neuer
rose after : it was a worlde to se the murdre that Robert dyde
amonge the dampned dogges the Sarasyns. So to make shorte tale,
Robert dyde so moche, that the Sarasyns were constrayned to
flye awaye and themperour helde the felde and had the vyctorye
of them.

How Robert turned agayne to the forsayd fountayne^ and there un-
armed hymy whan he had thus subdued and vaynquysshed the
Sarasyns and put them to flyght.

Now hath the emperour gotten the felde and the honoure,
thanked be God, and Robert is torned agayne to the sayd
fountayne, and there unarmed hym and layde the harneys on the

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 195

hors, whidie incontynent was vanyshed awaye that no man coude
knowe nor perceyue where lie become; and Robert bode sty 11
standynge by the fountayne. Themperour's doughter seynge this
had grete meruayll of this, and wolde haue told it forth but she
was dombe and coude no speke. Robert had a race l in his face,
whiche he gote in the batayll, but he was none otherwyse hurte ;
the emperour was glad, and thanked God of his victory ayenst
the false dogges the Sarasyns ; and thus beynge mery, he came
home to his palays. And whan they were all set to dyner, Robert
presented hymselfe before themperour as he was wonte to do,
playnge the fole, and makynge him dombe as afore rehersed is.
The emperour reioysed in hymselfe whan he se Robert, for he
loued hym well ; and whan he perceyued Robert's hurte in his
face, and thought that some of his seruauntes had hurte hym
whyle he was out, wherfore he was angry, and said : " Here in
this court be some enuyous men, for whyle we haue ben out at
batayle, they haue beten and hurte this poore innocent creature in
his face, which is grete synne, for though he be a fole he dooth
no man harme." So themperour commaunded them all upon a
grete payne that no man sholde do hym harme, yf they dyde they
sholde be punysshed, that all other sholde be ware by them. Than
the emperoure began to axe his knyghtes yf there were any of
them that coude telle of the knyght with the whyte hors that
came preuely in to the felde, and so valyauntely rescued them.
Themperour's doughter this herynge poynted themperour her fader
that it was Robert ; but the emperour understode not what his
doughter mente when she poynted, for she could not speke. Wher-
fore he called her maystres to hym, and axed her what his doughter
mente by her poyntynge, and her maystres answered and sayd :
" Your doughter menes by her poyntynge that this day ye haue
goten the batayll and vyctorye thrughe the helpe of your fole
Robert, and the race that is in his face he hath gotten it in the
batayll." The emperour understandynge the mynde and intent
of his doughter, he was angry and sayd to her maystres : "Ye
sholde teche and lerne my doughter wysdome, and no folye ne

1 Race, raze, graze,

196 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

peuysnesse where withall I am myscontent." The doughter seynge
that her fader was angry, pointed no more, notwithstandynge she
wyst well that it was trewe that she poynted and mente, for in as
moche as she had sene the aungell bring hym the hors and
harneys. This remayned in this wyse a certayne season, and after
that the Sarasyns were put to flyght by the Romaynes, as sayd is,
yet came the senesshall agayne with moche more company, and
layde syege to Rome. And the Romaynes sholde haue lost the
felde ayen, had not the knyghte on the whyte horse bene, to whome
God sent hors and harnays as he had done before. To make
shorte tale, this knyght dyde so moche that the Sarasyns were put
to flyght, and the Romaynes won the felde and vyctorye as they
dyde before. There were some of the emperour's meyny layde
wayte where this knyghte became, but as soon as the batayle was
done he was gone no man coude tell were he was become, saue
only the emperour's doughter which see hym at the fountayne
agayne unarmynge hym.

How Robert gatte the thyrde batalye as he dyde before which she
kepte secrete.

IN a short tyme after this the senesshall tourned agayne with a
moche greter power than he had before, and layde syege to Rome.
And when the emperour rode to the batayle, he commaunded his
knyghtes and barones to take good hede fro whens that knyght
came with the whyte horse, and what he was and where he
became, for he had grete desyre to knowe what he was. The
knyghtes answered that it sholde be done. The day came that
they must ryde forth to the batayle, and sertayne of the best
knyghtes rode pryuely into a wood that stode a lytell there besyde,
and there they wayted whiche waye the knyghte on the whyte
horse should come to the batayle ; but they loste theyr laboure,
for they coude not tell whens he come. But when they sawe
hym in the batayle, they rode towarde hym to helpe hym and
receyue hym. This same batayle was sore foughten on both
partyes, but the Sarasyns lost there courage, for Robert layde on

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 197

soo grete and myghty strokes, that no man myght stande under
his hande ; so that in conclusyon Robert dyde so moche and so
valyantly, that the Sarasyns were put to the discomfyture wherof
themperour was gretly enioyed ; the senesshall with the Sarasyns
were passynge angry and sore moued therewith all.

How one of the Emperour's knyghtes hurte Robert in his thyghe
with a spere.

THAN when this batayle was done, euery man rode home, and
Robert wolde haue tourned agayne to the fountayne to unarme
hym as he was was wonte to do before, but the forsayd knyghtes
were torned agayne to the wood, to awayte for the knyght with
the whyte hors ; and whan they sawe hym come, they rode all at
ones out of the wood, and cryed with a loud voyce saynge unto
hym : " O noble knyght, tary and speke with us, who that ye be,
and whens and out of what lande ye come, to the entent that we
may shewe it to the emperour, whiche specyally he desyreth for to
knowe." Robert this herynge was sore ashamed, and smote his
white hors with his sporres, flyngynge ouer hylles and ouer valleyes,
for bycause he wolde not be knowen But there followed hym a
bolde knyght, well horsed, with a spere, wenynge to haue kylled
his whyte horse, but he myste, and smote Robert in the thyghe
with his spere, and the spere heed brake of and stack styll in his
thyghe, but yet for all this he coude gete no knowlege of the
knyght with the whyte horse, for he rode from them all euerychone,
whereof they were passynge sory. Robert rode so sore, tyll at the
laste he came unto the fountayne and unarmed hym, and layde
the harnays on the horse as he had done before, whiche in con-
tynente was vanysshed awaye and gone ; and he drew out the
spere hed out of his thyghe, and hyd it bytwene two grete stones
by the fountayne ; than he layde grece and mosse upon his
wounde, for he durst let no man loke therto, for fere he sholde
haue ben knowen. And all this sawe and marked the emperour's
doughter ; for bycause she se that Robert was a fayre and well
fauoured yonge knyght, she began to cast her loue unto hym.

198 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

And whan Robert hadde dressed his wounde, he came in to the
halle, to gete hym some mete, and he halted as lytell as he coude,
and kept it secretly, that almoost no man coude perceyue it, and
suffred moore payne a thousande tymes than it semeth by hym.
Shortly after this, came home the knyght that had hurte Robert,
and began to recounte to themperour how the knyght with the
whyte horse had outryden hym, and how he had hurte hym sore
ayenst his wyll, and sayd to the emperour : " I beseche you, my
lorde emperour, here what I shall tell you, and in what maner ye
shall knowe who is he that hath holpen you ; it is best ye make
a proclamacyon and publyshe thrugheout your empyre, and yf
there be ony knyght in whyte harnays and a whyte horse that he
be brought to your presence, and that he brynge with hym the
spere-heed where withall he was hurte in his thyghe, shewynge
the wounde, and that ye gyve hym youre doughter to wyfe, and
halfe youre empyre with her." Themperour this herynge, was of
his counseyll very gladde, and incontynent all haste proclamed
and publysshed thrugheout all the empyre, and thought that the
knyght had gyuen hym good counseylL

How the Senesschall thruste a spere-heed in to his thyghe, ivenynge
to have begyled the Emperour, and to haue wonne his doughter
thereby.

IT befell in shorte tyme after, that the senesshall had knowlege
and understandynge of the emperour's proclamation, and how he
myght wynne themperour's doughter, whiche he had many tymes
bene about. He dyde grete dylygence, and caused to be sought and
gotten a whyte horse and white harnays, and thryste a spere heed
in his thyghe, wenynge therby to deceyue themperour, and to gete
his doughter to wyfe. And whan this was done he commanded
all his men to arme them, and ryde wyth hym to the emperour.
And he rode so sore tyll he came to Rome with great royalte and
solace, and without any taryenge he rode streyght to the emperour,
saynge to hym in this wyse : " My lorde I am he that you so
valyauntly receyued : thre tymes I haue caused you to haue

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 199

honoure and victorye ayenst the cursed Sarasyns." Themperour
thynkynge upon no treason nor deceyte, sayd : " Ye be a valyaunt
and a wyse knyght ; but I had went the contrarye, for we haue
taken you for a vylayne and a forsworne knyght." The senesshall
was very angry and sore motied here withall, and answered the
emperoure shortly and angerly ! " My lorde emperour. meruayll
you nothynge here of, for I am not such a cowarde as ye wene
that I be : " and thus saynge he toke out the spere-heed and
shewed it the emperour, and uncouered the wounde the whiche
he had made hymselfe in hys thyghe. The knyghte stode by
whiche that hurt Robert before, and began to compasse in his
mynde, for he se well that it was not the heed of the spere, but
he durst saye nothynge for fere, lest the senesshall wolde haue
kylled hym. We wyll leue nowe of the senesshall, and speke of
Robert, which is among dogges, sore wounded, as ye have herde
before.

How God sent an aungell to the lieremyte that he sholde goo to Rome
and seke Robert, for he had full doone his penaunce.

THE heremyte whiche ye haue herde of before, that shroue and
sette Robert his penaunce, laye on a nyght in his selle and slepte,
and thus slepynge there cam to hym a voyce, and bad hym
lyghtly aryse and goo to Rome, to the place where Robert was
doynge his penaunce ; and the aungell tolde the heremyte all the
doynges of Robert, she\vynge how that his penaunce was fully
done, and that God hadde forgyuen hym his synnes, whereof the
heremyte was uery gladde, and in the mornyng erly he arose and
wente to Rome warde, and in lyke wyse in the same mornynge
the senesshall rose be tyme and went to Rome to the emperoure
to desyre and haue his doughter accordynge to the publycacyon
and crye, to the whiche the emperoure consented her to hym
without any long aduysement. But whan the doughter under-
stode that she was gyuen to the senesshall she raylled and raged
as though she hadde ben wood and madde ; she tare her hare
from her heed, and all to tare her clothes, but it myght nothynge

2oo ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

auayle her, for she was constrayned, and must be arayed lyke a
bryde, and an emperour's doughter which shold be maryed, and
the emperour ladde her by the hande hymselfe to the chyrche
royally accompanyed with lordes and ladyes and gentylwomen,
but the doughter made the gretest sorowe of the worlde in so
moche that no man coude content her mynde.

How the Emperour's doughter thrughe the grace of God began for to
speke thefyrste worde that ever she spake in her lyfe.

THAN as the emperour with all his estate was come in to the
chyrche, the emperour's doughter whiche was dumbe, sholde
marye the senesshall ; there dyde our lorde a fayre myracle, for
the loue of the holy man Robert, to the entente he sholde be
exalted, whome euery body helde fer a fole and with hym
mocked. Whan the preest sholde begyn the seruyce, and to
marye the senesshall and this yonge mayde togyder, the
doughter thrughe the grace of God began to speke to the em-
peroure her fader in this wyse : " Fader I holde you not wyse,
but fer ouer sene in that ye byleue that this proude folysshe
traytoure telleth you, for all that he telleth you is lyes ; but here
in this towne is a holy and deuoute persone, for whose sake God
hath gyuen me my speche, wherfore I loue hym in my herte, for
I haue alwaye sene and marked his valyance and holynes, but
noo man wolde byleue me what poyntynge or sygnes that I
made." Thenne the emperoure this herynge, was almoost oute
of his mynde for joye, whan he herde his doughter thus speke,
the whiche neuer spake before, wherby he knewe well ynough
that the senesshall hadde betrayed and deceyued hym. The
senesshall this herynge, was wode angry and foule ashamed, and
lyghten upon his horse and rode awaye and all his companye.
The pope beyng presente axed the mayden who the man was
that she spoke of. Than the mayde ladde the pope and the em-
perour her fader to the fountayne where Robert was wonte to
arme and unarme hym, and there she toke out the spere heed
from bytwene the two stones where that Robert had hydde it,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 201

and than she caused the spere to be brought forth, whereof the
heed was broken, whiche was lyghtely brought to her, and that
heed and the spere joyned togyder in one as does as thoughe
they hadde not be broken. Than sayd the mayd to the pope, " We
have hadde thre tymes vyctorye by his noble valyaunce ayenst
the myscredaunte Sarasyns, for I haue thre tymes sene his horse
and harnays wherwith he hath thre tymes armed and unarmed
hym, but I can not tell who broughte hym horse and harnays,
nor unto whom he delyuered it, but I knowe well that whan he
hadde this done he layde hymselfe downe by the dogges." And
the mayden sayd unto the emperoure her fader in this wyse,
" This is he that hathe saued youre landes and youre honoure,
and gate you vyctorye of the Hethen houndes the Sarasyns,
wherfore ye ought of deute to rewarde hym, and yf it please you
we wyll go all to hym and speke with hym." Than wente they
for the fole, the emperour and the doughter with all the lordes
and ladyes unto Robert, whome they founde lyenge among
dogges, they folowed hym and dyde hym reuerence, but Robert
answered them not.

How the heremyte found Robert, and commaimded hym to speke,
saynge to hym, that his penaunce was full done and his synnes
forgyuen.

THE emperour spake to Robert and said, " I praye you, swele
frende, come to me and shewe me your thyghe I wyll nedes se."
Whan Robert herde themperour say these wordes he wyst well
ynoughe wherfore he was comen to hym, but he lete hym as
thoughe he had not understonden hym. And Robert dyde many
madde conceytes to make the pope and themperour to laughe and
forgete that they spoke of. But the pope spake to Robert, and
coniured hym in the name of God that on the crosse dyed for our
redempcyon, that yf it be Goddes wyll that thou haste spoken that
thou speke now unto us. And than Robert rose up lyke a fole and
gaue the pope his blessynge. And here withall Robert loked be-
hynde hym and saw the heremyte that set him his penaunce, and

202 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

as soon as the heremyte se Robert whiche he had long sought,
he cryed to hym with a loude voyce that every man myght here
hym that were there : " My frende herken unto me, I knowe well
that ye be Robert that men calle the Deuyll, but now ye be in
grace and conceyte with Almyghty God, and for that foule and
hydeous name ye shall haue a fayre name, and be called the
Seruante of God. Ye be he that hath saued this lande from the
Sarasyns, wherfore I praye you that ye serue and worshyp God as
ye haue done hyderto, for oure Lorde sendeth me now to you
commaundynge you to speke, and no more to counterfeyte the
fole ; for it is Goddes wyll and commaundement, for he hath for-
gyuen you all your synnes, for by caus ye haue made satysfacyon
and full done your penaunce." Whan Robert herde this he fell
lyghtely on his knees and lyfte up his handes towarde Heuen
saygne thus, " I gyue laude and thankes to God, creator of
Heuen and erthe, that it hath pleased the to forgyue me myne
abhomynable and grete synnes thrughe so lytell and lyght penaunce
that I haue done : " therefore, whan the pope, the emperour and
the doughter, and all that were there present herde Robert speke
thus swetely, they were all heerof gretely enioyed and had grete
meruayll of. Themperoure seynge his noble valyaunce vertue and
curtesye that in hym was and wolde haue gyuen hym his doughter
to wyfe, but the heremyte wolde not it sholde be so ; wherfore
euery man departed and wente home.

Hoiv Robert to timed agayne to Rome for to marye the Emperour 's
doughter by the commaundement and wyll of God.

Now the storye telleth as after that Robert had remyssyon of his
synnes and was gone towarde his countre, than out of Rome God
commaunded hym that he sholde tourne agayne to Rome and
marye the emperour's doughter, which loued hym passyngly well,
and he sholde haue by her a sone wherby the Crysten beleue
sholde be encreased and fortefyed and defended. Robert at the
commaundement of God turned agayne a Rome and maryed
themperour's doughter with grete tryumphe and solace, for them-

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 203

perour and all the Romayns were therof very glad. This brydale
was royally kepte and euery man that se Robert loued hym aboue
all other ; and the people sayd one to another, that they were
gretely beholdynge to Robert, that he had redemed them from
theyr mortall enmyes the Sarasyns. This feest was grete and
notable and dured xiiij dayes, and whan the feest and brydale
was done Robert wolde departe with his lady into Normandye to
vysyte his fader and mother, and toke leue of themperour whiche
gaue hym many royall and grete gyftes, as golde and sillier and
precyous stones of diuerse colours. Also themperour gaue hym
knyghtes and squyers to ryde and conduyte him in to his
countree.

Hoiv Robert and his lady came to Rowane in Normandye with
grete honour and worship.

ROBERT and his lady rode soo ferre they came into Normandye
into the noble cyte of Rowane with grete myrth and solace, where
they were receyued with grete tryumphe ; for the comyntees of
the countree were sorye and in grete heuyness that theyr duke
Robert's fader was dyseased, for bycause that he was a wyse
and a renomed prynce. A lytell besyde dwelled a cursed knyght,
whiche hadde done the duchesse grete wronge and suppressed
many knyghtes after her husbondes dysease. But whan Robert
was come, euery man dradde hym and dyde hym grete reuerence
and worshypp. Than some sayd we wende he had ben deed, and
all the lordes and burgeys of Rowane, gadred them togyder and
with grete honoure and reuerence they receyued Robert and helde
hym as theyr lorde and souerayne. But whan they hadde re-
ceyued hym honourably, they shewed hym of this before sayd
knyght ; he hadde many tymes suppressed, and done wronge to
his moder, sythen the deth of his fader. Than whan Robert herde
and understode this, he sente lyghtely men of armes to take the
sayd knyght, the whiche dyde so moche that they toke hym
and brought hym to Robert whiche made hym to be hanged,
wherfore the duches was ryght glad. But she was moche more

204 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

gladder that Robert her sone was come home, for she wende he
hadde ben deed. And whan Robert and his moder were thus
togyder, he recounted unto her how the emperour had gyuen
hym his doughter in maryage, and how he had done his pen-
aunce. The duchesse herynge her sones wordes, she began to
wepe very sore, for bycause he had suffred so grete pouerte and
penaunce thrughe his defaute.

How the Einperour sent a messanger unto the Duke Robert, that he
sholde come and rescue hyui ayenst the Senesshall.

IN the meane season, whyles Robert was thus at Rowane with
his moder and his lady in grete joye and solace, there came a
messanger fro the emperour unto Robert whiche dyde hym
reuerence, and saynge thus unto hym : " My lorde duke, the
emperour hathe sente me hyther to you, and he prayeth you for
to come and rescue hym ayenst the false traytoure the senesshall
with the Sarasyns, which haue layde syege to Rome." Whan
Robert herde these wordes, he was sorye in his mynde for them-
perour, and shortly assembled as many men of armes as he coulde
get in his lande of Normandye, and forth withall rode with them
towarde Rome, to helpe and socoure the emperour. But before
he coude come thyder the false traytour the senesshall had slayne
the emperour, which was grete pyte. But Robert wente streyght
into Rome, and lyghtly with all his power and myght went ayenst
the senesshall. And whan Robert aspyed the false traytoure, he
descryed hym, saynge thus: "Abyde, thou false traytour, now
thou shalte neuer escape my handes yf thou abyde me in the
felde, for thou art now nygh thy lyve's ende. Thou dydest putte
ones a spere-heed in thy thygh for to haue deceyued the Ro-
mayns, defende now thy lyue ayenst me, for thou shalte neuer
escape myn handes, and thou hast also slayne my lorde them-
peroure, wherefore thou shalt be well rewarded after that thou
hast deserued." And with these wordes Robert, with grete
desyre and myghty courage, rode unto the senesshall and gaue
hym suche stroke on the helmette, that he clove helmet and heed

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 20;

unto the teeth, and in contynente the traytour fell downe deed
unto the erth. And Robert made hym to be brought in to Rome,
to the entente that he sholde there be slayne to reuenge the
Romayns, the whiche was done in the presence of all the people
that were in Rome ; and in this wyse fenysshed that traytour the
senesshall his lyfe, and had a shameful death, wherby men may
make and take hede that it is grete folye to coveyte or desyre
thynges passynge theyr degre ; for and the senesshall had not
desyred the emperoure's doughter, the whiche passed and ex-
ceeded ferre aboue his degree, he had not dyed this shameful
deth, but myght haue lyued and the emperour also, and haue
dyed good frendes.

How that the Duke Robert tourned agayne to Rowayne after he
had made the Senesshall to be slayne.

ROBERT the duke defended the cyte from theyr enemyes, and
than he retourned agayne with all his companye unto Rowane to
his wyfe, whiche was passynge sorrowful! and pensyfe. But whan
she herde that the traytour the senesshall had slayne her fader,
she was almoost out of her mynde; but Robert's moder com-
forted her in the best maner that she coude or myght. And for
to make shortely an ende of our mater, and so to fenysshe this
boke we wyll lette passe to wryte of the grete dole and sorowe of
the yonge duchesse, and speke of the young duke Robert, whiche
in his youth was about to all myschefe and vyce, and all ungra-
cyousnes, without ony measure or reason, for he was a greter
devourer, and a more vengeable, than any lyon, nothynge spar-
ynge, nor on no man hauying mercy nor pyte. And after this he
lyued xii yere in grete penaunce, like a wylde man, without ony
speche, and lyke a dumbe beest etynge and drynkynge with
dogges, and there after was he exalted and honoured of them
whiche before dyde holde hym for a fole or an innocente, and
mocked with hym. This Robert lyued longe in vertue and
honoure with that noble ladye his wyfe, and he was beloued and
dradde of hyghe and lowe degre, for he dyde ryght and justyce,

2o6 ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

as well ouer the ryche as ouer the poore, kepynge his land in reste
and in pease, and begote a chylde with her, and whiche he called
Rycharde, whiche dyde afterwarde many noble actes and dedes
of armes with grete Charlemayne kynge of Fraunce, for he dyde
helpe hym for to gere and fortefye the Crysten fayth, and he
made alwayes grete warre upon the Sarasyns. And he lyued in
his land in rest and pease, and was beloued of poore and ryche,
and all his comente loued hym in lykewyse as Robert his fader
was loued, for they lyued bothe deuoutly and in vertue. Wher-
fore I praye God that we may so lyue in this lyfe we may optayne
and come to euerlastynge lyfe. To the whiche brynge us he that
bought us and al mankynde with his preecyous blode and bytter
passyon. Amen.

Thus endeth the lyfe of Robert the Deuyll,
That was the seruaunt of the Lorde,
And of his condycyons that was full euyll,
Emprynted in London by Wynken de Worde.

Here endeth the lyfe of the most feerfullest and unmercyful-
lest and myscheuous Robert the Deuyll, whiche was afterwarde
called the Seruaunt of our Lorde Jhesu Cryste. Emprynted in
Flete-strete in the sygne of the sonne, by WYNKYN DE WORDE.

V I R G I L I U S.

III.

VIRGILIUS.

How Romulus cam within the fayer towne of Iteynes that he
destroy ed, and how he slave his broder Remus that was lorde
of Ray ties.

Jls ^Howulus f)CU'6e say of his broder Remus, and of the towne
of Raynes, than he was uery heauy ; for the walles of Raynes
was so hygh that a man that stode in the deche myght nat schote
ouer well with a hande bowe ; and the walles of Rome was so
lowe that a man myght wel lepe ouer, and with no deches.

It fortuned that Remus went to see his broder Romulus at
Rome, and toke with hym manye folke after his estate and
byrthe, and left his wyfe in abydynge, in the towne of Raynes
in Champanion, with a lytyll chylde or yonge son named Remus
after his owne name. And whan he was com before Rome, and
sawe the walles, he sayd three tymes that the walles were to lowe ;
moreouer he sayde, with a ronne he wolde lepe ouer them ; and
bye and bye he take a ronne and lept klene ouer.

And whan his broder Romulus had harde this, howe his broder
had lepte ouer, he sayd that he had done yll, and therefore he
shuld lese his hed. And as Romulus dyd enter into his broders
palayce, then he toke Remus, and he with his owne handes smote
of his broders hed, and slew hym.

And it was nat longe tyme after that he raysed a great armey
of people thorowghe all his contreye, and prepared hym towarde
the towne of Raynes in Champanien, and began to set his ordi-
naunce towarde the walles of the towne, and dyd destroye the

2io VIRGILWS.

palayce, towers, and other places to the erthe, in so muche that
he lefte but a few standynge or none : but he coulde nat fynd
the wyfe of Remus, his suster, for she was fled away out of the
towne, under the erthe at a false porte to hyr frendes and kyn-
ffolke, for she was one of the greatest borne women that was
than there aboute. And as Romulus had destroyed the lande and
towne of Raynes, he departed and went home toward the cytie
of Rome with all his hooste, where he was receyued rychelye.

Hoive the son of Remus , tJiat also was named Remus after Jiis fadcr^
dyd slewe his unkell Romulus and afterwarde was made empc-
and so reyned einperoure.

THAN was the wyfe of Remus very sadde and morned very sore
when she knewe of the dethe of hyr husbond, and also of the
destructyon of the towne of Raynes destroyed by the handes of
hys brother. And she caused workemen shulde make the walles
ageyne after hyr broders departyng fro it, insomoche that she
made the towne of Raynes more stronger and fayrer than it was
euer afore, and renewed it rycfrely after hyr myght and power :
for she was not of so great myght as she was. when her husbonde
was alyue.

And also this noble ladye norysshed her chylde well, and with-
in a lyttyl space he began to wexe bygge and stronge, and myghty
anoughe to bere armure. Than sayd his moder to hym :

" My dere son, when wyll you wreke your faders dethe that
your unkell slewe ? "

And he answered to his moder : " Within this iij money thes,"

And forthewith he caused his kynsffolke to reyse theyr people ;
and when they were gathered they departed.

He cam with a great power towarde Rome, and when he cam
to Rome he entered in thereat, no maner of bodye ayenste say-
inge. And when he was within, he made a crye that no man
should do no comons harme. Than went he to the Emperours
palayce, And when the Emperour knewe that he was come, he
asked counsayl ; and the senyatours answered, that there was no

EARLY PRQSE ROMANCES.

21 I

remedy but deth : bycause ye slewe his fader, so shall he ageyne
slee you. And with that cam in Remus into the palayce of his
unkle Romulus, no body ayenst sayinge ; and there he saw his
unkell afore him stand in his emperly stole, Than was he in-
flamed with yre and drewe out his swerde, and toke his uncle by
the here, and smote of his hed. And whan it was done, he asked
the lordes and senyatours of Rome, or they wolde thereforre
warre ? and they answered all, " nay : " and gaue to hym the hole
empyre and crowned hym as ryght heyer; and whan he was
Emperour he sent for his moder and she came to hym,

And than was Rome made with stronge walles and deches, and
than gatte Rome name ; and there haunted many dyuerse nacyons,
and they dyd buylde and edefye m.any fayre d welly nge places in
Rome. This Remus was a stronge man of bodye, ryche of good,
wyse in counsayll, and had under hym many landes. and lord-
shyppes.

This Remus had a knyght of his moders behalfe, that was ryght
hardy and bolde in batayle, and he toke or maryed a wife in the
cytie of Rome, that was one of the greatest senyatoiirs dawghters
of Rome and hyghest of lynage. And Remus reyned not long
after, but dyed, and his sone was made Emperoure and reygned
after hym. And this knyght of Champanien, that had maryecj
the senyatours dawghter, he made great warre with hym, and dyd
hym very muche harme.

This knyght had one son by his wyfe, that with great travalynge
of laboure was bourne, and there was he named Virgilius of Vigilo,
for by cause that he was a great space of tyme watched so with

Howe Virgilius was sette to schole.

As Virgilius was borne, than the towne of Rome quaked and
trembled. And in his youth e he was wyse and subtell, and was
put to schole.

And shortly after dyed his fader, and than Virgilius moder wolde
no more marye ayen, for she loued her lord so well. And after
the decese of hyr husbond, hyr kynsfolke wold haue put her frp

2 ifc VIRGILIUS.

hyr enherytaunce that she had lyinge within and without Rome,
and one of the fayreste castels and strongest in all the towne or
there abowt that could be emagined or made by any man. And
she complayned often to the Emperoure, that was nere of kynne
unto hyr husbonde ; but the Emperoure was a angery man and
wolde nat here hyr complayntes, also he was nat beloued of the
lordes nor of the comon people.

Within short tyme after, he decesyd and his sone and heyer
Persydes was emperoure after his faders dethe, and ruled after
his own mynde all the lande. And he had all the Romans under
hym, insomuche that he ruled them so strayghtly that they were
sore adrad of hym.

And Virgilius was at scole at Tolenten, where he stodyed dyli-
gently, for he was of great understandynge. Upon a tyme the
scholers hadde lycence to goo to play and sporte them in the
fyldes after the vsaunce of the holde tyme : and there was also
Virgilius therby also, walkynge amonge the hylles all about. It
fortuned he spyed a great hole in the syde of a great hyll, wherin
he went so depe that he culde not see no more lyght. And then
he went a lytell ferther therin, and then he saw som lyght agayne,
and then wente he fourth streyghte. And with in a lytyll wyle
after, he harde a voice that called, " Virgilius, Virgilius ; " and he
looked aboute and he colde nat see no bodye. Than Virgilius
spake and asked, " Who calleth me ! " than harde he the voyce
agayne, but he sawe no body • than sayd he, " Virgilius, see ye
not that lytyll bourde lyinge besyde you there marked with that
worde ? " Than answered Virgilius, " I see that borde well
enough."

The voyce sayd, " Doo a waye that bourd, and lette me oute
ther atte."

Than answered Virgilius to the voyce that was under the lytell
borde, and sayd, " Who art thow that talkest me so ! "

Than answered the deuyll : "I am a deuyll coniured out of the
body of a certeyne man, and banysshed here tyll the day of iuge-
merit, without that I be delyuered by the handes of men. Thus,
Virgilius, I pray the delyuer me out of this payn, and I shall shewe

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 213

unto the many bokes of nygromancy, and howe thow shalt cum
by it lyghtly and knowe the practyse therein, that no man in the
scyence of negromancy shall pass the. And moreouer I shall
showe and informe you so that thou shalt haue all thy desyre,
wherby my thynke it is a great gyfte for so lytyll a doynge, for ye
may also thus all your power : frendys helpen, and make rythe your
ennemyes unmyghty."

Thorowgh that great promyse was Virgilius tempted ; he badde
the fynd showe the bokes to hym that he myght haue and occupy
them at his wyll. And so the fynde shewed hym, and than Vir-
gilius pulled open a bourde, and there was a lytell hole, and therat
wrange the deuyll out lyke a yeel, and cam and stode by fore
Virgilius lyke a bygge man. Therof Virgilius was astoned and
meruelyed greatly therof that so great a man myght come out at
so lytell a hole.

Than sayd Virgilius, "Shulde ye well passe into the hole that
ye cam out of?"

" Ye, I shall well," sayd the deuyll.

" I holde the beste plegge that I have, ye shall not do it."

" Well," said the deuyll, " thereto I consent."

And than the deuyll wrange hym selfe into the lytell hole ayen,
and as he was therein Virgilius kyuered the hole ageyn with the
bourd close, and so was the deuyll begyled and myght not there
come out ayen, but there abydeth shytte styll therin.

Then called the deuyll dredefully to Virgilius, and sayd,
"What haue ye done?"

Virgilius answered, " Abyde there styll to your day apoynted."
And fro thensforth abydeth he there.

And so Virgilius becam very connynge in the practyse of the
blacke scyence.

It was so that the moder of Virgilius wexed olde, in so muche
that she lost her herynge. Than called she one of hyr seruauntes,
and sayd to hym, " Ye must to Tolleten, and tell Virgilius my
sone that he come and redresse his enherytaunce within and

1 Power, poor.

214 PlRGTLWS.

without Rome, and gyue up the schole, for he shulde be by ryght
one of the greateste of all Rome."

The messenger departed and wente toward Tolleten where
Virgilius was, and whan he cam there, he founde Virgilius teych-
yng and lernynge the greattest lordes of the lande, and other
landes also : for I ensure ye, he was a fayr and a wyse yonge man,
and conynge in the scyence of negromancy aboue all men than
lyuynge.

He salued Virgilius, and shewed unto hym all the mater that
he cam for ; and whan Virgiiius harde all the matter howe it was,
he was very heuy, not for the good, but for his moder ; for Vir-
gilius had good anough. He rewarded the messenger, and al^o
sende his moder iiij somers 1 laden with money, and with other
costely iewels, and sende hyr also one whyte horse ; and so the
messengre took his leue of Virgilius, and so departed.

And Virgilius abydyng styll in Tolenten emagened in his mynde
howe he myght best conuey the rest of his good to Rome and that
he myght followe. And whan he ordeyned and set in order all
the rest, he toke his leue and departed fro Tolenteh toward Rome,
with many of his scholars with him.

Whan he cam to Rom to his moder, he salewed his moder, and
she hym ; for she was glad of his commynge, for she saw hym not
afore by the space of xij years a fore.

J-Jo7d> Virgilius did make his complaynt to the Emperour as he
ivas com to Rome.

As Virgiiius was com to Rome he was receyued ryght worshypfullye
of his power kynsfolke, and not of the ryche, for they withhelde
his landes oute of his hande ; for that cause was he nat welcome to
them, but were angery of his comyng, for they wolde nat ete with
hym nor drynk with hym.

Than was Virgilius angery, and than gaue he to all his power
kyndsfolke that with helde nothynge fro his moder, landes,
harneyse, horses, siluer and golde and other thynges. And
1 Somers, sumpter horses.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 21$

he gaue to his naybours great thankes for the kyndnes that
they showed to his moder in his absence. After this dyd Vir-
gilius abyde longe tyme with hys moder, tyll the tyme that the
Emperour reysed a newe custom or taxe. Than went all the
lordes to the Emperour that helde any lande of hym, and also
Virgilius with all his company and many kynsfolke and frendes.
And whan he cam before hym, he salewed hym, and shewed unto
hym howe he was enheryted of his landes and tenementes, and
of those that with helde it, and desyred that he myght haue it
ageyne. Than answered the Emperour, that he shulde take
thereof counsayll. And forthwith he went to counsayll with them
that loued not Virgilius : and they answered to the Emperour ;
" Me thynketh that the land is well deuyded to them that hath it,
for they may helpe you in your nede. What nedeth you for to
care for the dysherytynge of one schole mayster ? and byd hym
take hede and loke of his schole, for he hath no fyght to any
lande here aboute the citie of Rome." And thus the Emperour
sayd that he must take pacyence by the space of iiij. or v. yere
that we myght examyne with in our selfe whether ye be ryght
ever or no. And with that answere Was Virgilius very angry, and
sayd that he shulde be auenged,

And whan he cam home he sende for all his poor kynsfolke
and fryndes, and put them in his houses and dwellynge places
that he hadde within Rome, and purueyed them of mete and
dry nke, and byd them make mery tyll Julio, that the corne and
frute is rype. And whan it was rype, Virgilius by his negromancy
dyde caste the aver ouer all the frute and corne of his landes that
his enemyes hylde fro hym, and caused it to be gathered and
brought in to his howses, that none of his enemyes had none
thereof. In this maner of wyse dyd Virgilius deseyue his enemyes
of all the frute and corne, insomuch that they had not on pennys
worth of that goods that they witheld fro hyni;

And whan Virgilius enemyes sawe the frute so gathered, they
assembled a great power, and cam towarde Virgilius to take hynt
and smyte of his lied. And when they were assembled, they
were so stronge, that the Emperour for fere fled out of Rome, for

216 VIRGILIUS.

they were xij. seniatours that had all the worlde under them ; and
Virgilius had had ryght he had ben one of the xij. but they had
dysheryted hym and his moder. And whan Virgilius knewe of
theyr ccmmynge, he closed all his landes with the ayer rounde
about all his lande, that none lyuynge creature myght there come
in to dwelle ayenst his wyll or pleasure.

Howe the Emperoure of Rome beseged Virgilius beynge in his
castell.

As Virgilius enemyes cam to destroye and take hym, and when
they cam before his castell. he closed theym with the aeyer that
they had no myght to go we nor for warde nor back ward, but
abyde sty 11, where of they merueyled. And than Virgilius answered,
" Ye cum to dysheryt me, but ye shall nat ; and knowe ye well
that you shall haue no profyte of the frutes as longe as I lyue ;
and ye maye tell to the Emperour that I shall tarry iiij. or v. yeres
tyll he take counsayll. I desyne not to plete in the lawe, but I
shall take my good where I fynde it ; and also tell the Emperour
I care nat for all his warre nor all that he can do to me." Than
returned Virgilius and made ryche all his poure kynsfolke. And,
whan Virgilius was returned, than wente they home and knewe
nat what they shoulde do.

Than cam they to the Emperour and complayned of Virgilius,
and sayde, that Virgilius sayde, that he set nat by the Emperoure
and all that he coude make. And when the Emperoure harde this,
he was greatly amoued and sore anangered, and sayd, that I shall
brynne and set on fyer all his howses, and also I shall smyte of
his hedde. And there with all not longe taryinge, he caused his
lordes and knyghtes that helde lande of hym, that they shulde
reyse all theyr men of armes that they had under them, to be
redy at a day at his commaundement ; and at the day apoynted
the Emperour and all his hooste were assembled. They tooke
theyr way towarde the place of Virgilius, that was rounde about e
well walled and closed with aeyr ; that whan the Emperour cam
before the walles with all his hoste, they myght not gowe nor

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 217

forwarde nor backwarde. And than went fro his castell fourthe
Virgilius, and with his negromancy he made also a lyght in suche
maner that they coulde nat goo forwarde nor returne, but stand e
styll. And he made also by his cunnyn, that the Emperour
thought that he was closed rounde aboute with a great water,
in so muche that they myght nat come to the castell, nor for
to come fro the castell, but stode styll; and thus dyd Virgilius
serue the Emperoure and all hys hooste.

And moreouer cam Virgilius to the emperoure, and sayde,
" Lorde Emperoure, ye have no power with all your strength to
do me harme nor my landes also ; for be ryght ye shulde make
of me as one of your greatest lordes and nearest of your kynred,
for I at your nede maye helpe you more than al your other
folke."

Than answered the Emperour to Virgilius, "You begyler, may
I ons get you under my handes, I wyll geue the that thow hast
deserued."

Than answered Virgilius, and sayd, " Lorde Emperour, I fere
you nat. But thynke you well, that I shall tame you well a
nowghe, that ye shall be glad to know me for one of your kyns-
folke and of your blode ; but ye wolde dysheryte me, but ye shall
not."

Than caused Virgilius muche mete to be dressed bytwene his
howse and the hoste, that the Emperour and his folke myght se
it, and howe they dressed it ; but they myght haue none thereof
but the smoke or reke, for they of the hoste was shyt in with the
aeyr as thowghe it hadde ben a great water. And so dyd Virgilius
serue the Emperour and his folke, nor was there no body in his
hoste that coulde fynde any remedy to helpe them there agayn.

Upon a tyme as they were in that thraldome afore the castell,
there cam a man that colde skyll in the scyence of negromancy,
and cam afore the Emperoure, and sayd, that he wolde by hys
practyce make slepe all Virgilius folke ; and so he dyd, in so muche
that Virgilius his selfe myght scant withdrawe hym fro slepynge.
Than was he sorye and wyste nat what to do, for the Emperours
folke was delyueTed, and began to come upon Virgilius walles.

2i8 VIRGILIUS.

And whan Virgilius saw that, he loked in his boke of negromancye
where in he was very parfeyte, and there he founde in what maner
he myght delyuer his fblke fro slepe. And than he cimgered that
he made the Emperoure stand styll agene, that he myght nat
remeue out of his place, nor all his folke, nor the mayster of
negromancy myght nat remeue nor styrre, as thowgh they were
deed : and they that were upon the ladders, one fote uppe, another
downe, and so stode styll, and also some stode with one foot on
the lader, and a nother upon the wall, and so for to stand styll
till it pleased Virgilius.

Whereof the Emperour was sore auexed and angery. and asked
his mayster if they shulde stand styll in that maner? and he gaue
hym no answere, but he spake to Virgilius and sayd that he wulde
showe upon hym his cunnynge.

And than Virgilius answered, and bad hym do his beste, "for
I set nat a strawe by you nor all that you can do to me."

And thus helde Virgilius the Emperour and all his folke closed
in this maner with the ayer, by space of a day. And in the nyght
came Virgilius to the Emperour and sayd ; " It is a shame for so
noble a prynce thus to stop the way, and take upon hym that he
can nat do."

Than sayd the Emperour to Virgilius : " Helpe me oute of this
daunger, and I shall restore ageyne to you all your landes and
tenementes, and haue all thynges at your owne wyll."

Than answered Virgilius to the Emperour, " I wyll delyuer you
out of this daunger, so that ye wyll gyue me grace."

" Ye, by my crowne ; and I knowe you for on of my kynred
and I dessyre to haue you with me in my felawshyp."

And than Virgilius put a waye the closynge, and reseyued the
Emperour and all his folke into his castell, where golde and ryches
were plenty, and serued them with mete and drynke ryght plen-
tyously, after theyr degre, of the deyntyest and strangest that myght
be gotte, that they saw neuer afore. And the Emperour was there
more rychely serued than euef he was before or after. And Vir-
gilius rewarded euery persone after his degree, and with manye
costely and merueloiise gyftes.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 21$

Howe ike Emperour restored ageynt unto Virgilius all Ids enhcryt-
and gooddes, and gaue to hym many other thyngfs.

THAN toke they Jeue of Virgilius and retourned home ageyne.
And whan they were returned home, the Emperour gaue to Vir-
gilius his land ageyn and all that he asked, and was the greattest
lorde of the Emperours counsayll.

After that it hapenyd that Virgilius was enamoured of a fayre
ladye, the fayrest in all Rome. Virgilius made a crafti negro-
mancy that tolde hir all his mynde : when the lady knewe his
mynde, she thowght in hyr selfe to deseyue hym, and sayde, if
he wyll come at mydnyght to the castell wralle, she shulde lette
downe a basket with stronge cordes, and there to drawe hym
vppe at hyr wyndowe. And with this answere was Virgilius very
glad, and sayd, he shudde doo it with a good wyll.

Howe the gentyl woman pulled vppe Virgilius, and howe she let
hym haiige in the basket when he was Jialfe way vp to Jiyr
wyndowe, and hoive the people wondered and mocked hym.

A DAY was set that Virgilius sholde come to a tower that stode
in the market place of Rome, and in all the towne was none so
hygh. And at the day apoynted Virgilius cam to the tower, and
the gentyl woman was thereat waytynge, and as she sawe hym
there stande, she let downe the basket at the wyndowe. And
when it was downe Virgilius went in ; and wrhan he was therein,
she pulled hym up tyll that he came half wave : and there she let
him hange, and made the corde faste.

Than the gentyl woman spake : "Ye be deceyued, and I shall
let you hahge tyll to morowe, for it is market day, that all the
folke may wonder of you and your dyshoneste that you wolde
hatie do." And there withall she shyt her wyndowe, and let hym
hang tyll the mornynge that it was daye, tyll all the men in Rome
wyst it, and also the Emperour, that was ashamed, and sent for
the gentylwoman, and bad hyr let hym downe, and so she dyd.
And whan he was downe, he was ashamed, and sayd, that shortly

220 VIRGILIUS.

after he wolde be auenged on hyr; and so went home to his
gardayne that was the fayrest that stode within Rome. Than
toke he his bokes, and by his connynge put out all the fyer that
was in Rome, and none of them without myght bryng in fyer into
the cytie ; and this dured for the space of a daye and a nyght.
But Virgilius had anowghe, and no body els had, nor myght not
make no fver within Rome.

Howe Virgilius put out all the fyer of Rome.

THE Emperoure and all his barons and the comons of Rome
merveyled that there was no fyer in al the cytie ; and than they
thowght in theyr myndes that Virgilius had put it out. Than the
Emperour sent for Virgilius, and prayd hym of his counsayll that
men myght have fyer ageyne. Than he must cause a scaffolde
to be made in the mydle of the market-place, and there ye muste
set the gentylwoman in hyr smocke that hynge me in the basket
yesterday ; and than lett make a crye thorowgh all the cytie of
Rome, who so wyll haue ony fyer must come to the scaffolde in
the market-place, and of the gentylwoman there they shuld have
fyer, or otherwyse none : and knowe that one the other can gyve
none, nor sell none ; and thus ye must do if ye wyll haue ony
fyer. When they harde this, they cam with great multytude to
the scaffolde.

Howe the gentylwoman was put upon the scaffolde^ and howe the
folke of the towne went and fetched fyer.

THE Emperoure and all his lordes sawe that there was no other
remedye but they muste nedes do after Virgilius counsayll. He
did cause a scaffolde to be made in the market-place, and caused
the gentyll woman to be set there on in hyr smocke ; and there
men fetche fyer ; the pore men with candels and strawe, and the
ryche men lyghted they theyr torches. Thre dayes must the
gentylwoman stand e in that manere or els they shulde haue no
fyer. And after the thyrde day went the gentylwoman home

EARLY TROSE ROMANCES. iti

sore ashamed, for she knewe well that Virgilius had done that
violence to hyr.

Within a whyle after maryed Virgilius a wyfe : and when that
was done, Virgilius made a merueylous paleyce with iiij corners :
and as it was made, he layed the Emperoure therin in one of
the corners, and herde that all the men did say in that quarter.
And in lykewise dyd he bryng him in the other iij quarters, and
so he harde what they sayde in the other quarters of Rome, and
thus gowyng by the iiij quarters harde he what they sayde
thorowe all Rome ; they myght nat speke so secretly but he
harde it.

Howe Virgilius made saluatio Romae.

THE Emperour asked of Virgilius howe that he myght make Rome
prospere and haue many landes under them, and knowe when any
lande wolde ryse agen theym.

And Virgilius sayd to the Emperoure, " I woll within short
space that do." And he made vpon the Capitolium, that was
the towne house, made with caruede ymages, and of stone,
and that he let call Saluacio Romce ; that is to say, this is the
Saluacyon of the cytie of Rome. And he made in the corn-
pace all the goddes that we call mamettes and ydolles, that were
under the subiection of Rome; and euery of the goddes that
there were had in his hande a bell; and in the mydle of the
godes made he one god of Rome. And when so euer that there
was any lande wolde make ony warre ageynst Rome, than wolde
the godes tourne theyr backes towarde the god of Rome ; and
than the god of the lande that wolde stande up ageyne Rome
clynked his bell so longe that he hathe in his hand, tyll the sena-
tours of Rome hereth it, and forthwith they go there and see
what lande it is that wyll warre a gaynst them ; and so they pre-
pare them, and goeth a geyne them and subdueth theym.

This forsayde token knewe the men of Carthago, that was sore
a greued for the great harme that the Romans had done them.
And they toke a pryuay counseyll in what manner they myght
destroy that worke. Than thought they in there mynde to sende

222 VIRGILIUS.

iij men out and gaue them great multytude of golde and syluer.
And these iij men toke theyr leue of the lordes and went towarde
the cytie of Rome. And when they were come, to Rome they
reported themselfe sothesayers and trewe dremers.

Vpon a tyme wente these iij men to a hyll that was within the
cytie, and there they buryed a great potte of money very depe in
the erthe, and when that was done and kyuered ageyne, they
went to the brygge of Tyber and let fall in a certayne place a
great barell with golden pens.

And when this was done these thre men went to the seniatours
of Rome and said :

" Worshypfull lordes, we haue this nyght dremed, that with in
the fote of a hyll here with in Rorne is a great pot with money.
Wyll ye lordes graunt to us, and we shall do the coste to seke
there after ? "

And the lordes consented and than they toke laberours and
delued the money out of the erthe.

And when it was done, they went a nother tyme to the lordes,
and sayde :

" Worshypful lordes, we haue also dremed that in a certeyne
place of Tyber lyeth a barell full of golden pens ; 1 if that you wyll
graunte to us that we shall go seke it : "

And the lordes of Rome thynkyng no dyscepte, graunted to
those sothesayers, and badde them do that that they shulde do
there best. And than the sothe sayers was glad. And than they
hyred shyppes and men, and went toward the place where it
was ; and when they were come they sowght in everye place there
about, and at the laste founde the barelfull of golden pens, whereof
they were glade ; and than they gaue to the lordes costely gyftes.

And than to come to theyr purpose, they cam to the lordes a
geyne, and sayde to them :

" Worshypfull lordes, we haue dremed a geyne that under the
foundacyon of Capitolium, there where Saluatio Romae standeth,
be xij barelles full of golde ; and pleasyeth you lordes that you
wolde graunt us lycence, it shall be to your great auantage."

1 Pens, pence, coins.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 23$

And the lordes, styrred with couytayse, graunted them, bycause
ij tymes a fore they told trewe. Whereof they were glad, and
gatte laberours, and began to dygge under the fundacyon of
Saluatio Romae. And \vhen they thought that they had dygged
a noughe they departed fro Rome, and the next daye folowynge
fell that house downe, and all the worke that Virgilius had made.
And so the lordes knew that they were deseyued, and were
sorowfull, and after that hade nat no fortune as they had a fore
tymes.

How the Emperour asked co unsay II of Virgilius hoive the nyght
ronners and yll doers niyght be ryd out of the stretes.

THE Emperour had manye complayntes of the nyght ronners and
theues, and also of great murderynge of people in the nyght, in
so muche that the Emperour asked counsayll of Virgilius, and
sayd that he hath great complayntes of the theues that ronnyth
by nyght, for they kyll many men ; " what counsayll Virgilius is
best to be done ? "

Than answered Virgilius to the Emperour, " Ye shall make a
horse of coper, and a coper man apon his backe, hauynge in his
handes a flayll of yron, and that horse ye shall do brynge a fore
the towne howse, and then ye shall lett crye that a man fro
henseforth at x. of the clocke shulde ryng a bell, and he that
after the bell ronge was in the strete should be slayne, no worke
thereof be done.'"'

And whan this crye was made the roffyans set nat a poynt, but
kept the streetes as they dyd a fore, and wolde nat let therfore ;
and as sone as the bell was ronge at x. of the clocke, then lept
the horse of coper with the coper man thorowgh the stretes of
Rome, insomuche that he lefte nat one strete in Rome unsowght
And as sone as he found any man or woman in the strete he
slewe them starke deed, insomuche that he slewe a boue CC. per-
sons or more.

And this seying, the theues and nyght ronners howe they might
fynde a remedy therefore thought in theyr myndes to make a

224 VIRGILIUS.

dragge with a ladder theron; and as they wolde gowe out be
nyght they toke theyr ladders with them, and when they harde
the horse come, than caste they the dragge upon the howses, and
so went up a pon theyr ladders to the top of the howses, so that
the coper man myght nat toche them ; and so abyd they styll in
theyr wycked doyng.

Than came they a gene to the Emperoure and complayned, and
than the Emperoure asked counsayll of Virgilius ; and Virgilius
answered and sayd, " that he muste get to coper houndes and set
them of eyther syde of the coper horse, and let crye a geyne that
no body after the bell is ronge shulde departe oute of theyr howse
that wolde lyue."

But the nyght walkers carede not a poynt for that crye ; but
when they harde the horse comynge, with theyr ladders clymed'
upon the howse, but the dogges lept after, and tered them all
to peces ; and thus the noyse went thorowgh Rome, in so muche
that no body durst in the nyght go in the strete, and thus all the
nyght walkers were destroyed.

How Virgilius made a lampe that at all tymes brenned.

FOR profeyte of the comon people, Virgilius on a great myghty
marbell pyller, dyd make a brygge that cam vp to the paleyce,
and so went Virgilius well vp the pyller oute of the paleyce.
That paleyce and the pyller stode in the mydde of Rome ; and
vpon this pyller made he a lampe of glasse that allwaye byrned
without gowyng out, and no body myght put it out. And this
lampe lyghtened ouer all the cytie of Rome fro the one corner to
the other, and there was nat so lytell a strete but it gaue suche
lyght that semed ij torches there had stande. And vpon the
walles of the palayce made he a metall man that helde in his
hande a metall bowe that poynted euer upon the lampe for to
shote. it out ; but alway burned the lampe and gaue lyght ouer all
Rome. And vpon a tyme went the burgeyses daughters to play
in the paleyse and beheld the metall man ; and one of them asked
in sporte, Why he shat nat ? And than she cam to the man and

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 225

with hyr hande toched the bowe, and than the bolte flew oute,
and brake the lampe that Virgilius made. And it was wonder
that the mayden went nat out of her mynde for the great fere she
had, and also the other burgeyses daughters that were in hyr
companye, of the great stroke that it gaue when it hyt the lampe,
and when they sawe the metall man so swyftly ronne his waye.
And neuer after was he no more sene. And this forsayd lampe
was abydynge byrnyng after the deth of Virgilius by the space of
C.C.C. yeres or more.

How Virgilius made a orcharde by the fountayne, the fayrest and.
goodly est that euer culde be founde in all the worlde.

GREAT wonder dyd Virgilius in his tyme ; for after that palayce
he made an horcharde wherin he set all maner of trees berynge
frute, and also many herbes growynge in that yarde. And as the
tyme was, sawe men dayly, rype frute, fayre blossoms, full plen-
tyous. In the myddell of the orcharde was a fayer clere fountayne,
the fayrest that euer was sene ; and in this orchard was many
dyuers of byrdes syngyng, for they myght well cum in, but they
culde no more flye out ageyne, for it was closed in such with the
ayer ; and men harde also theyr byrdes syng that was within, and
culde not goo forth. Also he had in his orcharde all maner of
tame bestes that were profitable for men. Also he made of the
water that ran out of the fountayn a standynge water about the
trees, the clerest that myght be, and there in was of all maner of
fysshe that culde be thought. Also in this orcharde all maner of
joy mines, both of trees, herbes, fowles, and bestes thereof that
men myght thynke, or be immagened by mannes reasons. Also
he dyd make greater thynges than all this ; for he made a vaute or
seller in the orcharde, the fayreste that myght be made or thought
by mannes reason, which seller he made for to put in his money
and ryches that he had ; for he was so ryche, and so great
multitude that he knewe no ende. And he set ij metall men
before the dore to kepe it, and in eerie hande a great hamer, and
therwith they smyte vpon a anuilde, one after the other, inso-

p

•226 VIRGILIUS.

muche that the byrdes that flye ouer hereth it, and by and bye
falleth there down deed ; and otherwyse had Virgilius not his
good kepte.

Howe Virgilius made his wyfe a ymage.

A IMAGE made Virgilius a hye in the ayer that myght nat fall ; and
the people of Rome myght nat open noder wyndowe nor doer but
they must nedes see it. And this image had this properte, that
no woman after she had seen the image had no luste to do bodely
lust ; and therefore the women had great enuy, and they com-
pleyned them to Virgilius' wyfe that they theyr sporte and dalyinge
had loste and prayed hyr that she wolde destroy that image and
make it fall. And than wayted Virgilius' wyfe hir tyme, and went
vp the brigge of the ayer and cast down the image. And when
Virgilius cam and founde his image downe, he was very angery,
and sayd to his selfe, that it shulde nat auayll them, for he wolde
set it up ageyne : and swore that he shulde know who had cast it
downe. And he set it ageyne, and asked his ladye, and she had
caste downe it ? and she sayd, " Naye."

And than cam the women ageyne to Virgilius' wyfe, and sayd,
" That it was worse than it was before, and prayed hyr, that she
shulde caste it downe ageyne."

And than Virgilius went pryuyley into a corner, and wayted his
wyfe, for he had sene before howe the women had complayned
them to hyr. And than went Virgilius' wyfe and caste downe the
image ; and Virgilius, that had hyd hym, sawe howe his wyfe had
caste it downe, and with a anger wold haue cast her after with
the ymage ; and he sayd, " The deuyll satisfy e you, for I dyd it for
the beste. But I shall neuer more medyll, but I shall let the
women do theyr wyll." And fro thenseforthe began Virgilius to
hate his wyfe.

• Howe Virgilius went to the Sodans daughter.

OFTEN tymes herde Virgilius tell of the fayrnes of the Sodans
dawghter, insomuch e that he was enamoured of hyr, thoughe he
neuer sawe hyr ; than by his connynge made he a brygge in the

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 227

aver, and went oner to hyr, and when he had spoke with hyr,
and showed hyr his mynde, than she consented to hym, notwith-
standyng she neuer sawe hym afore.

And she sayde on a time that she wolde departe with hym into
his countre, and knowe what maner a man he were, and what
dwellyng he had. Than answered Virgilius, and sayde to hyr ;
'; What wyll I doo : but ye shall passe ouer many landes, and
you shall not trede in them." Than caryecl he hyr ouer into his
owne lande, ouer the brygge that he had made in the ayer, and
so browght hyr to Rome ; and when he was at home, he asked
hyr "If she sawe no body?'' and she said, "No, but hym
alone.''

And thanne showed Virgilius to hyr hys palayce and orchard,
and the metall men, that stode styll a pece smytynge : and he
shewed to hyr also all his treasur, and he presented it to hyr ;
and she wolde nat reseyue it, sayinge, " That she had to muche
of hyr faders to kepe." And Virgilius helde her in his orcherde
as longe as it please hym. And as the Soudan founde nat is
dawghter he was sorofull, for because he woste nat where she
was become. And they sowght all about, but in no place culde
theye fynde hyr.

Howe Virgilius brought agene the Sodans daughter into hyr faders
lande , and how he founde hyr slepynge vpon hyr ledde*

WHEN the Sodans dawghter had byd longe with Virgilius in his
orcharde, than desyred she to goo home to hyr faders lande. And
than toke Virgilius the Sodans dawghter in his hannes, and caste
hyr vpon the brygge in the ayer, and he his selfe brought hyr to
hyr faders palayce, and put hyr in hyr chamber vpon hyr bed ;
and than he betoke hyr to the goddes, and so returned he home
to his place towarde Rome.

And in the begynnynge of the day arose the Sodan that was
sore vexed for the lesynge of his dawghter ; and than earn one
of hyr chamberlaynes to the Emperoure, and tolde hym howe his
dawghter was come ageyne, and lay vpon hyr bed and slepte.

228 VIRG1LIUS.

Than cam he to hyr hastely and asked hyr where she had bene,
and howe she was come there ageyne ?

" Fader," sayd she, " there was a fayre man of a straunge land,
and he brought me thorowgh the ayer to his paleyce and orcharde ;
but I haue nat spoke to man nor woman but to hym alone, and
I knowe nat what lande it is."

The Sodan answered and sayde to hyr, "That she shulde
brynge some of the frute of that cuntrey with hyr:" and she
sayde she wolde.

And within a wyle came Virgilius to Babylone, and toke the
Sodans daughter with hym ageyne, and so departed ageyne to
his cuntrey with hyr, and kepte hir longe as pleased hym ; and
when she departed ageyne she toke with hir walnottes and other
frute.

And when she was come home she shewed her father the wal-
nuttes and other frutes of the lande. " Ha, ha," sayde he, " it
is on the syde of France that so often (he) hath borne you away."

Howe Virgilius was taken there.

THE Sodan cam upon a tyme to his dawter and sayde; "My
daughter, when he commethe agene to you that was wonte to
careye you awaye, gyue to hym this drynke that I shall gyue to
you, but drynke ye none thereof, I warne you : for when he hath
drunkyn thereof he shall slepe, and when he is a slepe let me
know therof : than shall we take hym, and know fro whens he is."

And the lady dyd as she was commaunded. And whan Vir-
gilius was com, she gaue hym to drynke of the drynke that hir
fader gaue hyr : and when he had drunke, he slepte, and so was
taken.

Than was Virgilius brought to the Sodan, and the lordes, and
also the dawter of the Sodan. And than the Sodan showed his
knyghtes that that was the man that had stolen his dawghter away :
and than he sayd to Virgilius : " Ye be welcome ; for your pleasure
that ye haue had, ye shall suffer dethe."

Than answered Virgilius to the Sodan : " I wolde that I had

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 229

neuer sene hir, and if that ye wyll let me gowe I shall neuer come
ageyne : "

Than answered the Sedan and the lordes : " That shall we nat
do ; but for youre myssedede ye shall suffer a shamefull dethe."

Than answered the Sodans dawghter, " Yf ye put hym to deth
I shall suffer deth with hym."

Than answered the Sodan : " Therto I consente, for ye shall
be burned with hym."

Than answered Virgilius, " That shall you nat do, with all the
strength and myght that ye can do, thoughe ye be of so great
power."

Howe Virgilius cam out and led with hym the fay er lady the Sodans
daughter, and how he founded the towne of Naples.

WHAN Virgilius harde of this, he made with his cunnynge than
the Sodan and all his lordes (thynk) that the great ryuer of Babylon
was in the myddell among them ranne, and that they swemed,
and laye, and spronge lyke duckes. And thus toke Virgilius with
hym the fayre lady upon the brygge in the ayer. And when they
were bothe upon the brygge, he delyuered the Sodan fro the
ryuere, and all the lordes. And than they sawe Virgilius caray
awaye his dawghter ouer the see upon a brygge in the ayer, wher
of he merueyled and was very sorye, and wyste nat what to do,
for he culde nat remedy it. And in this maner dyd he conuey
the Sodans dawghter ouer the see to Rome.

And Virgilius was sore enamored of that lady. Than he
thought in hys mynde, howe he myght mareye hyr, and thoughte
in his mynde to founde in the myddes of the see a fayer towne
with great landes belongyng to it ; and so he dyd by his cunnynge,
and called it Napells. And the fundacyon of it was of egges. And
in that towne of Napells he made a tower with iiij corners, and in
the toppe he set a napyll upon a yron yarde, and no man culde
pull away that apell without he brake it : and thorowghe that yron
set he a botel, and on that botel set he a egge ; and he henge
the apell by the stauke upon a cheyne, and so hangyth it styll.

230 VIRGILIUS.

And whenne the egge styrreth so shulde the towne of Napels
quake, and whan the egge brake than shulde the towne synke.
When he had made an ende he lette call it Napels.

And in this towne he layde a part of his treasur that he had,
therin : and also set therin his louer, the fayer lady the Sodans
dawghter : and he gaue to her the towne of Napels and all the
landes therto belongynge, to hir use and hyr chyldren. And
within short whyle after, he maryed her to a sertayne lorde or
knyght of Spayn.

Within shorte wyle after, it fortuned that the Emperour had a great
fantasy to the towne of Napells, for it bare the name in the tyme
for one of the fayrest in the world : and it lay also in the fayrest
market place aboute Rome. Than secretly sende the Emperour
letters to all his lordes that were under hym, that they shoulde,
as shortely as they myght, rayse theyr folke, and to come to Rome
for to besege the towne of Napels. And so they dyd, insomuche
that they assembled a great companye, and wente towarde the
towne of Napels and destroyed all afore hym. And when he was
come to Napels he beseiged it. And the knyght that maryed the
lady that was within Napels defended the towne nobely ageynste
the Emperoure and all his hoste. And in the meane wyle sente
this knyght a messengere to Virgilius, whiche tolde hym all howe
the Emperour beseged the towne of Napels : wherwith Virgilius
was angery, and sent worde that the knyght shulde nat set be hym
nat all his hoste, for I shall prouyde well a nough for you : and
so departed the messenger to Napels.

Howe the Emperour beseged the towne of Napeh.

AND when Virgilius knewe that the Emperour beseged Napels,
than made he all the fresshe wrater to be lyke rayne, in suche
maner that the Emperours folke had neuer a drop of water and
they of Napels had a noughe ; and in the meane season reysed
Virgilius his hoste, and cam towarde the Emperoure to Napels.
But the Emperour myght no lenger taray, for the horse and men
dyed for faute of water, and so he loste a great parte of theym.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 231

Than the Emperoure seynge this, departed home ageyn to the
cytie of Rome, all eschamed and dyscumfyt ; and as he returned
homewarde, in the waye, he met with Virgilius comynge with all
his companye towarde Napels.

And when Virgilius sawe the Emperoure, he cam to hym, and
salued hym in this manere : " O noble Emperoure, howe fortuned
this to you, that be so nooble a prynce as you be, to gyue up the
seage of Napels, and to returne home agene to the cytie of Rome,
all dyscumfit, without doynge any harme at all so schortly ? "

Than wyste the Emperoure well that Virgilius mocked hym,
and he was therwith very angery.

And than went Virgilius to Napeis, and he caused the lordes
of the towne to make a othe that they shulde beyre no Romans
within the forsayde towne.

Howe Virgilius dyd slrcngthe the towne of Napels with
scholers and merchauntes.

As Virgilius reseyued the othes of the lordes of Napels than
returned he ageyne to Rome, and feched his bokes and other
mouable goodes, and browght it to Napels, and let his good
a lone that he had shet in the seller. And his dwellynge he
gaue to his frendes to kepe, and his dwellynge places, and so
departed to Napels. There he made a schole and gaue therto
much landes, that euery scholer a bydynge and gowyng to schole
had lande to lyue on of the towne ; and they that gaue up the
schole they loste the lande : and there cam many fro Tuleten
to schole. And when he had ordeyned the towne well with
scholers, than made he a warme bath that euery man myght
bathe hym in that wolde ; and that bathe is there to this tyme,
and it was the fyrste bathe that euer was. And after this made
he a brygge the fayrest that euer man sawe, and there myght
men se all maner of fayer shyppes that belonged to merchaun-
sedyse, and all other thynges of the see. And the towne in
those days was the fayrest and noblest in all the worlde. And
in this schole aforesayde dyde Virgilius rede the great conynge

232 VIRGILIUS.

and scyaunce of egromancy, for he was the conyngest that euer
was a fore, or after, in that scyence. And within schorte space
his wyfe dyed, and she had neuer no chyldren by hym. And
moreouver aboue all men he loued scholers, and gave much
moneye to bye bokes with all. And thus he ruled them ryght
nobely, for he myght do it ryght well, for he was one of the
greatest borne men of all the world, and had beene the greateste
lorde of all Rome.

Howe Virgilius made in Rome a metall serpente.

THAN made Virgilius at Rome a metall serpente with his cun-
nynge, that who so euer put his hande in the throte of the
serpente, was to swere his cause ryght and trewe; and if hys
cause were false he shulde nat plucke his hande out a geyne : and
if it were trewe they shulde plucke it out a geyne without any
harme doynge. So it fortuned that there was a knyght of Lum-
bardye that mystrusted his wyfe with one of his men that was
moost set by in the conseyte of his wyfe : but she excused hyr
selfe ryght noblye and wysely. And she consented to goo with
hym to Rome to that serpent, and there to take hyr othe that
she was not gylty of that, that he put apon hyr. And therto con-
sented the knyght.

And as they were bothe in the carte, and also hyr man with
hyr, she sayd to the man ; that when he cam to Rome, that he
shulde clothe hym with a foles-cote, and dysgyse hym in suche
maner that they shulde nat knowe hym, and so dyd he. And
when the day was come that he shulde come to the serpent, he
was there present.

And Virgilius knewe the falsenes of the woman by his cunnynge
of egromancy. Than sayd Virgilius to the woman : " With drawe
your othe and swere nat."

But she wolde nat do after hym, but put hyr hande into the
serpentes mouthe. And when hyr hande was in, she sware before
hyr husbande that she had no more to do with hym than with
that fole, that stode hyr by ; and by cause that she sayd trowthe

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. -233

she pulled out hyr hande a geyne out of the throte of the serpent
nat hurt. And than departed the knyght home and trusted hyr
well euer after.

And Virgilius "hauyng therat great spyte and anger that the
woman had so escaped, destroyed the serpent : for thus scaped
the lady a waye fro that great daunger. And then spake Vir-
gilius, and sayde : that the women be ryght wyse to enmagen
ungracyousenes, but in goodness they be but innocentes.

Howe Virgilius dyed.

THUS as Virgilius in his life had done many maruylous and sotyll
thynges, and also had promysed to the Emperour many other
dyuerse thynges and meruylouse : for he promysed to make the
trees and spyces to bere frute thre tymes in a yere : and euery
tree shulde haue rype frute and also blossomes at one tyme
thereon growynge : also he shulde maken the shyppes for to sayle
a geynste the streme as with the streme at all tymes; and he
wolde haue made the peny to be as lyghtely gat as spente. And
these thynges afore sayde promysed Virgilius to the Emperour for
to do, and many other dyuerse thynges that were to longe for to
reherse here, if that it fortuned hym nat to dye in the mene wyle.
And after this made Virgilius a goodly castell that hadde but
one goying in thereto, and no man myght nat enter in therto, but
at the one gate, or els nat. And also aboute the same castell
flowed there a water and it was unpossyble for any man there to
haue anye enterynge. And this castell stode without the cytie of
Rome and this enteringe of this gate was made with xxiiij yron
flayles, and on euery syde was there xij men on eche syde, styll a
pece smytynge with the flayles neuer seasynge, the oon after the
other ; and no man myght cum in, without the flayles stood styll,
but he was slayne. And these flayles was made with such a gyn
that Virgilius stopped them when he lyst to enter in therat, but
no man els culde fynde the way. And in this castell put Virgilius
parte of his treasure ther in pryuyly ; and when this was done he
imagyned in his mynde by what meane he myght make his selfe

234 VIRGILIUS.

yonge ageyn, bycause he thought to lyve longer many yeres, to do
manye wonders and marueylouse thynges.

And vpon a tyme went Virgilius to the Emperoure, and asked
hym, of lycence by the space of iij wekes. But the Emperoure in
no wyse wold graunte unto hym, for he wold haue Virgilius at all
tymes by hym.

Than harde he that Virgilius went to his house and toke with
hym one of his men that he aboue all men trusted, and knewe well
that he wolde best kepe his counsayll ; and they departed to his
castell that was without the towne, and when they were afore the
castell there sawe the man men stande with yron flayles in theyr
handes sore smytyng.

Than sayd Virgilius to his man : " Enter you fyrste into the
castell.''

Than answered the man and sayd, " If I shulde enter the flayles
wolde slee me."

Than shewed Virgilius to the man of eche syde the enterynge in
and all the vyces that therto belonged ; and when he had shewed
hym all the wayes, he made sease the flayles and went into the
castell. And when they were bothe in, Virgilius turned the vyces
ageyne, and so went the yron flayles as they dyd a fore*

Then sayde Virgilius, " My dere beloued frende, and he that I
above all men truste, and knowe moost of my secret ; " and than
led he the man into the seller where he had made a fayer lampe
at all seasons burnynge. And than sayd Virgilius to the man :
" Se you the barell that standeth here ? " and he sayde, " ye there
muste put me. Fyrst ye muste slee me, and hewe smalle to peces,
and cut my head in iiij peces, and salte the heed under in the
bottum, and then the peces there after, and my herte in the
myddel, and then set the barell under the lampe, that nyght and
daye therin may droppe and leke : and ye shall ix dayes longe,
ones in the daye fyll the lampe, and fayle nat. And when this is
all done, than shall I be renued and made yonge ageyn, and lyue
longe tyme and maney wynters mo, if that it fortune me nat to be
taken of a boue and dye. "

And when the man harde his master Virgilius speke thus, he

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. -235

was sore abasshed, and sayd : " That will I neuer whyle I lyue,
for in no maner wyll I slee you."

And then sayd Virgilius : " Ye at this tyme must do it, for it
shall be no grefe unto you."

And at the last Virgilius treated his man so muche, that he con-
sented to hym : and then toke the seruant Virgilius, and slewe hym,
and when he was thus slayn, he hewe hym in peces and salted hym
in the barell, and cut his heed in iiij. peces as his master bad
hym, and than put the herte in the myddell and salted them wele :
and when all this was done, he hynge the lampe ryght ouer the
barell, that it myght at all tymes droppe in therto. And when he
had done all this, he went out of the castell and turned the vyces,
and then went the coper men smyghtynge with their flayles so
strongly upon the yron anueldes as they dyd afore, that there durst
no man enter : and he came euery day to the castell and fylled
the lampe, as Virgilius had bad hym.

And as the Emperoure myssed Virgilius by the space of seuen
dayes, he merueyled greatly where he shulde be by come ; but
Virgilius was kylled and layed in the seller by his seruaunte that
he loued so well.

And than the Emperour thought in his mynde to ask Virgilius
seruaunte, where Virgilius his master was : and so he dyd, for he
knewe well that Virgilius loued hym above all men in the worlde.
Than answered the seruaunte to the Emperoure, and sayde,
" Worschypfull lorde, and it please your grace I wot nat where he
is, for it is seuen dayes past that I sawe hym laste ; and than wente
he forthe I cannot tell whyther, for he wulde nat let me goo
with hym."

Than was the Emperoure angery with that answere, and sayd :
" Thou lyest falce thefe that thou art ; but without thou showe
me shortly where he is, I shall put the to dethe."

With those wordes was the man abashed, and sayde : " Wor-
shypfull lorde, seuen dayes a goo I went with hym without the
towne to the castell, and there he went in, and there I left hym,
for he wold nat let me in with hym.''

Then sayd the Emperour, " Goo with me to the same castell,"

236 VIRGILIUS.

and so he dyd ; and whan they cam a fore the castell and wolde
haue entered, they myght nat, bycause flayles smyt so faste.

Than sayde the Emperoure : " Make pease this flayles, that we
may cum in."

Than answered the man : " I knowe nat the way."

Than sayd the Emperour, " Than shalt thou dye ; " and than
tkorowgh the fere of dethe he turned the vyce and made the
flayles stande styl, and then the Emperoure entered into the castell
with all his folke, and soughte al a bout in euery corner after
Virgilius ; and at the laste they sowghte so longe that they cam
into the seller where they sawe the lampe hang ouer the barell,
where Virgilius lay in deed. Than asked the Emperoure the man :
" Who had made hym so herdey to put his mayster Virgilius to
dethe ? " And the man answered no worde to the Emperoure.
And than the Emperour, with great anger, drewe out his swerde,
and slewe he there Virgilius man.

And when all this was done, than sawe the Emperoure and all
folke a naked chylde, iij. tymes rennynge a boute the barell, saynge
the wordes : "cursed be the tyme that ye cam euer here;" and
with those wordes vanyshed the chylde away, and was neuer sene
a geyne : and thus abyd Virgilius in the barell, deed.

Then was the Emperour very heuy for the dethe of Virgilius, and
also all Virgilius kynred, and also all the scholers that dwelled
aboute the towne of Napels, and in especyall all the towne of
Napels, for by cause that Virgilius was the founder therof, and
made it of great worshypp. Than thought the Emperoure to haue
the good and ryches of Virgilius, but there were none so harday
that durste cum in to fetche it, for fere of the coper men, that
smote so faste with theyr yron flayles : and so abyd Virgilius
treasure in the seller. And Virgilius dyd many other merueylouse
thynges that in this boke is not wryten. And thus (God) gyue us
grace that we may be in the boke of euer lastynge blysse. Amen.

Thus endethe the lyfe of Virgilius with many dyuers consaytes
that he dyd. Emprynted in the cytie of Anwarpe By me Johnn
Doesborcke dwellynge at the earner porte.

THE HISTORY OF HAMLET

PRINCE OF DENMARK.

IV,
THE HISTORY OF HAMLET

PRINCE OF DENMARK.

CHAPTER I.

How Horvendile and Fengon were made Governors of the Province

of Ditmarsh, and how Horvendile married Geruth, the

daughter to Roderick, chief K. of Denmark : by whom he had

t ffamleti and how after his marriage his brother Fengon slew

^ fcim traitorously,, and married his brother's wife, and what

must ttnbersfanb, that long time before the Kingdom of
Denmark received the faith of Jesus Christ, and embraced the
doctrine of the Christians, that the common people in those days
were barbarous and uncivil, and their Princes cruel, without faith
or loyalty. They sought nothing but murder, and deposing or
(at the least) offending each other; either in honours, goods, or
lives ; not caring to ransom such as they took prisoners, but
rather sacrificing them to the cruel vengeance, naturally imprinted
in their hearts. They lived in such sort, that if they were some-
times a good prince, or king among them, who being adorned
with the most perfect gifts of nature, would addict himself to virtue,
and use courtesy, although the people held him in admiration (as
virtue is admirable to the most wicked), yet the envy of his neigh-
bours was so great, that they never ceased until that virtuous man
were dispatched out of the world.

King Roderick, as then reigning in Denmark, after he had

240 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

appeased the troubles in the country, and driven the Sweath-
landers and Slaveans from thence, he divided the kingdom into
divers Provinces, placing Governors therein. Such Governors
after (as the like happened in France) bare the names of Dukes,
Marquises, and Earls, giving the government of Jutie (at this
present called Ditmarsh) lying upon the country of Cimbrians,
in the straight or narrow part of land, that sheweth like a point
or cape of ground upon the sea, which neithward bordereth upon
the country of Norway.

The governors appointed by King Roderick were two valiant
and warlike Lords, Horvendile and Fegon, sons to Gervendile,
who likewise had been governor of that Province.

Now the greatest honour that men of noble birth could at that
time win and obtain, was in exercising the art of piracy upon the
seas ; assailing their neighbours, and the countries bordering upon
them : and how much the more they used to rob, pill, and spoil
other Provinces, and Islands far adjacent, so much the more their
honours and reputation increased and augmented. Herein
Horvendile obtained the highest place in his time, being the
most renowned pirate that in those days scoured the seas, and
havens of the North parts. His great fame, so moved the heart
of Collere, King of Norway, that he was much grieved to hear
that Horvendile surmounted him in feats of arms, thereby ob-
scuring the glory by him already obtained upon the seas. Honour
more than covetousness of riches, was (in those days) the reason
that provoked those barbarian princes, to overthrow and vanquish
one the other ; not caring to be slain by the hands of a victorious
person. This valiant and hardy king, having challenged Hor-
vendile to fight with him body to body, the combat was by him
accepted, with conditions, that he which should be vanquished,
should lose all the riches he had in his ship, and that the
vanquisher should cause the body of the vanquished, that should
be slain in the combat, to be honourably buried, death being the
prize and reward of him that should lose the battle.

Collere, King of Norway, although a valiant, hardy, and
courageous prince, was in the end vanquished and slain by

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 241

Horvendile : who presently caused a tomb to be erected, and
therein, with all honourable obsequies fit for a prince, buried
the body of King Collere, according to their ancient manner, and
superstitions in those days. The conditions of the combat were
fulfilled, bereaving the King's ships of all their riches ; and having
slain the King's sister, a very brave and valiant warrior, and over-
run all the coast of Norway, and the Northern Islands, Horven-
dile returned home again laden with much treasure. He sent
the most part thereof to his sovereign, King Roderick, thereby
to procure his good liking, and so to be accounted one of the
greatest favourites about his majesty.

The King, allured by those presents, and esteeming himself
happy to have so valiant a subject, sought by a great favour and
courtesy, to make him become bounden unto him perpetually,
giving him Geruth his daughter to his wife, of whom he knew
Horvendile to be already much enamoured. The more to honour
him, King Roderick determined himself in person to conduct his
daughter Geruth into Jutie, where the marriage was celebrated
according to the ancient manner. Of this marriage proceeded
Hamlet, of whom I intend to speak.

Fengon, brother to this Prince Horvendile, fretting and despite-
ing in his heart at the great honour and reputation won by his
brother in warlike affairs, was solicited and provoked by a foolish
jealousy to see him honoured with royal alliance. He feared
thereby to be deposed from his part of the government : or rather
desiring to be only governor, thereby to obscure the memory
of the victories and conquests of his brother Horvendile, deter-
mined whatsoever happened to kill him. This he did in such
sort, that no man once so much as suspected him, every man
esteeming that from such and so firm a knot of alliance and con-
sanguinity, there could proceed no other issue than the full effects
of virtue and courtesy. But as I said before, the desire of bear-
ing sovereign rule and authority, respecteth "neither blood nor
amity, nor careth for virtue as being wholly without respect of
laws, or majesty divine : for it is not possible that he which in-
vadeth the country and taketh away the riches of another man

Q

243 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

without cause or reason, should know, or fear God. Was not
this a crafty and subtle counsellor ? but he might have thought
that the mother, knowing her husband's case, would not cast her
son into the danger of death.

Fengon, having secretly assembled certain men, and perceiving
himself strong enough to execute his enterprise, Horvendile his
brother being at a banquet with his friends, suddenly set upon
him, where he slew him as traitorously, as cunningly he purged
himself of so detestable a murder to his subjects. Before he had
any bloody or violent hands, or once committed parricide upon
his brother, he had incestuously abused his wife, whose honour
he ought as well to have sought and procured, as traitorously he
pursued and effected his destruction. And it is most certain,
that the man that abandoneth himself to any notorious and
wicked action, whereby he becometh a great sinner, he careth
not to commit much more heinous and abominable offences.

Fengon covered his boldness and wicked practice with so
great subtilty and policy, and under a veil of mere simplicity,
that he was favoured for the honest love that he bare to his
sister-in-law, for whose sake he affirmed he had in that sort
murdered his brother, so that his sin found excuse among the
common people, and of the nobility was esteemed for justice.

For Geruth being as courteous a Princess as any then living
in the North parts, and one that had never once so much as
offended any of her subjects, either commons or courtiers, this
adulterer and infamous murderer slandered his dead brother,
that he would have slain his wife, and that he by chance
finding him upon the point ready to do it, in defence of the
lady had slain him, bearing off the blows which as then he
struck at the innocent Princess, without any other cause of
malice whatsoever. Herein he wanted no false witnesses to
approve his act, which deposed in like sort as the wicked calum-
niator himself protested, being the same persons that had borne
him company and were participants of his treason. Instead of
pursuing him as a parricide and an incestuous person, all the
courtiers admired and flattered him in his good fortune : making

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 243

more account of false witnesses and detestable wicked reporters,
and more honouring the calumniators, than they esteemed of
those that sought to call the matter in question, and admiring
the virtues of the murdered Prince, would have punished the
massacrers and bereavers of his life. This was the cause that
Fengon, emboldened and encouraged by such impunity, durst
venture to couple himself in marriage with her whom he used as
his concubine during good Horvendile's life, in that sort spotting
his name with a double vice, and charging his conscience with
abominable guilt and twofold impiety. The unfortunate and
wicked woman, that had received the honour to be the wife of
one of the valiantest and wisest Princes in the North, abased
herself in such vile sort, as to falsify her faith unto him, and which
is worse, to marry him that had been the tyrannous murderer of
her lawful husband : which made divers men think that she had
been the causer of the murder, thereby to live in her adultery
without control. But where shall a man find a more wicked
and bold woman than a great personage once having loosed the
bands of honour and honesty ? This Princess, who at the first,
for her rare virtu-es and courtesies, was honoured of all men, and
beloved of her husband, as soon as she once gave ear to the
tyrant Fengon, forgot both the rank she held among the greatest
dames, and the duty of an honest wife on her behalf.

But I will not stand to gaze and marvel at women : for that
there are many which seek to blaze and set them forth : in which
their writings, they spare not to blame them all for the faults of
some one or few women. But I say that either nature ought to
have bereaved men of that opinion to accompany with women,
or else to endow them with spirits as that they may easily support
the crosses they endure, without complaining so often and so
strangely, seeing it is their own beastliness that overthrows them.
For if it be so, that a woman is so imperfect a creature as they
make her to be : and that they know this beast to be so hard to
be tamed as they affirm : why then are they so foolish to preserve
them, and so dull and brutish as to trust their deceitful and
wanton embracings. But let us leave her in this extremity of

244 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

lasciviousness, and proceed to show you, in what sort the young
Prince Hamlet behaved himself, to escape the tyranny of his
uncle.

CHAPTER II.

How Hamlet counterfeited the madman, to escape the. tyranny of
his uncle, and how he was tempted by a woman (through his
uncles procurement), who thereby thought to undermine the
Prince, and by that means to find out whether he counterfeited
madness or not ; and how Hamlet would by no means be
brought to consent unto her ; and what followed.

GERUTH having, as I said before, so much forgotten herself, the
Prince Hamlet perceived himself to be in danger of his life, as
being abandoned of his own mother, and forsaken of all men.
Assuring himself that Fengon would not detract the time to send
him the same way his father Horvendile was gone, to beguile the
tyrant in his subtleties (that esteemed him to be of such a mind,
that if he once attained to man's estate, he would not long delay
the time to revenge the death of his father) he counterfeited the
madman with such craft and subtle practices that he made shew
as if he had utterly lost his wits. Under that veil he covered his
pretence, and defended his life from the treasons and practices
of the tyrant his uncle. And although he had been at the school
of the Roman Prince, who because he counterfeited himself to
be a fool, was called Brutus, yet he imitated his fashions and his
wisdom. For every day being in the Queen's Palace (who as
then was more careful to please Fengon, than ready to revenge
the cruel death of her husband, or to restore her son to his
inheritance) he rent and tore his clothes, wallowing and lying in
the dirt and mire, his face all filthy and black ; he ran through
the streets like a man distraught, not speaking one word, but
such as seemed to proceed from madness and mere frenzy. All
his actions and gestures were no other than the right counten-
ances of a man wholly deprived of all reason and understanding :
in such sort that as then he seemed fit for nothing but to make

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 245

sport to the pages and ruffling courtiers that attended in the court
of his uncle and father-in-law. But the young Prince noted
them well enough, minding one day to be revenged in such
manner that the memory thereof should remain perpetually to
the world.

Behold, I pray you, a great point of a wise and brave spirit in
a young Prince, by so great a show of imperfection in his person
for advancement, and his own embasing and despising, to work
the means and prepare the way for himself to be one of the
happiest kings in his age. In like sort, never any man was re-
puted by liny of his actions more wise and prudent than Brutus,
dissembling a great alteration in his mind, for that the occasion
of such his device of foolishness proceeded only of a good
and mature counsel and deliberation; not only to preserve his
goods and shun the rage of the proud tyrant, but also to open
a large way to procure the banishment and utter ruin of wicked
Tarquinius, and to enfranchise the people (which were before
oppressed) from the yoke of a great and miserable servitude.
And so did not only Brutus, but this man and worthy Prince,
to whom we may also add King David, that counterfeited the
madman among the petty kings of Palestina, to preserve his life
from the subtle practices of those kings. I show this example
unto such as, being offended with any great personage, have not
sufficient means to prevail in their intents, or revenge the injury
by them received. But when I speak of revenging any injury
received upon a great personage or superior, it must be under-
stood by such an one as is not our sovereign, against whom
we may by no means resist, nor once practise any treason nor
conspiracy against his life. He that will follow this course, must
speak and do all things whatsoever that are pleasing and accept-
able to him whom he meaneth to deceive, practise his actions,
and esteem him above all men, clean contrary to his own intent
and meaning. For that is rightly to play and counterfeit the
fool, when a man is constrained to dissemble, and kiss his hand,
whom in his heart he could wish an hundred foot deep under the
earth, so he might never see him more, if it were not a thing

846 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

wholly to be disliked in a Christian, who by no means ought to
have a bitter gall, or desires infected by revenge.

Hamlet in this sort counterfeiting the madman, many times
did divers actions of great and deep consideration, and often
made such and so fit answers, that a wise man would have judged
from what spirit so fine an invention might proceed. Standing
by the fire and sharpening sticks like poinards and pricks, one in
smiling manner asked him wherefore he made those little staves
so sharp at the points. "I prepare," saith he, "piercing darts,
and sharp arrows to revenge my father's death." Fools, as I said
before, esteemed those his words as nothing; but men of quick
spirits, and such as had a deeper reach, began to suspect some-
what, esteeming that under that kind of folly there lay hidden a
great and rare subtlety such as one day might be prejudicial to
their prince. They said that under colour of such rudeness
he shadowed a crafty policy, and by his devised simplicity, he
concealed a sharp and pregnant spirit ; for which cause they
counselled the King to try and know, if it were possible, how
to discover the intent and meaning of the young Prince.

But they could find no better, nor more fit invention to entrap
him, than to set some fair and beautiful woman in a secret place,
that with flattering speeches and all the craftiest means she could
use, should purposely seek to allure his mind. To this end cer-
tain courtiers were appointed to lead Hamlet into a solitary place
within the woods, whither they brought the woman. And surely
the poor Prince at this assault had been in great danger, if a
gentleman that in Horvendile's time had been nourished with
him had not shown himself more affectioned to the bringing up
he had received with Hamlet, than desirous to please the Tyrant,
who by all means sought to entangle the son in the same nets
wherein the father had ended his days. This gentleman bare the
courtiers, appointed as aforesaid of this treason, company ; more
desiring to give the Prince instructions what he should do than to
entrap him. He made full account that the least show of perfect
sense and wisdom that Hamlet should make would be sufficient
to cause him to lose his life : and therefore by certain signs, he

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 247

gave Hamlet intelligence in what danger he was like to fall if by
any means he seemed to obey. This much abashed the Prince,
as then wholly being in affection to the Lady. But by her he
was likewise informed of the treason, as being one that from her
infancy loved and favoured him, and would have been exceeding
sorrowful for his misfortune, whom she loved more than herself.
The Prince in this sort having both deceived the courtiers and
the lady's expectation, every man thereupon assured themselves
that without all doubt he was distraught of his senses ; that his
brains were as then wholly void of force, and incapable of reason-
able apprehension, so that as then Fengon's practice took no
effect. But for all that he left not off: still seeking by all means
to find out Hamlet's subtilty, as in the next chapter you shall
perceive.

CHAPTER III.

How Fengon, uncle to Hamlet, a second time to entrap him in his
politic madness, caused one of his counsellors to be secretly
hidden in the Queeris chamber, behind the arras, to hear what
speeches passed between Hamlet and the Queen, and how Ham-
let killed him and escaped that danger, and what followed.

AMONG the friends of Fengon, there was one that above all the
rest, doubted of Hamlet's practises, in counterfeiting the mad-
man. He for that cause said, that it was impossible that so crafty
a gallant as Hamlet that counterfeited the fool, should be dis-
covered with so common and unskilful practices, which might
easily be perceived, and that to find out his politic pretence it
were necessary to invent some subtle and crafty means, more
attractive, whereby the gallant might not have the leisure to use
his accustomed dissimulation. To effect this he said he knew
a fit way and a most convenient mean to effect the King's desire,
and thereby to entrap Hamlet in his subtilties, and cause him of
his own accord to fall into the net prepared for him, and thereby
evidently show his secret meaning.

His device was thus, that King Fengon should make as though

248 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

he were to go some long voyage, concerning affairs of great im-
portance, and that in the meantime Hamlet should be shut up
alone in a chamber with his mother. Wherein some other should
secretly be hidden behind the hangings, unknown either to him
or his mother, there to stand and hear their speeches, and the
complots by them to be taken, concerning the accomplishments
of the dissembling fool's pretence. He assured the King that if
there were any point of wisdom and perfect sense in the gallant's
spirit, that without all doubt he would easily discover it to his
mother, as being devoid of all fear that she would utter or make
known his secret intent, being the woman that had borne him in
her body, and nourished him so carefully. He withal offered
himself to be the man that should stand to hearken, and bear
witness of Hamlet's speeches with his mother ; that he might not
be esteemed a counsellor in such a case wherein he refused to be
the executioner, for the behoof and service of his Prince.

This invention pleased the King exceeding well. He esteemed
it as the only and sovereign remedy to heal the Prince of his
lunacy, and to that end making a long voyage, issued out of his
palace, and rode to hunt in the forest. Meantime the counsellor
entered secretly into the Queen's chamber, and there hid himself
behind the arras, not long before the Queen and Hamlet came
thither. Hamlet being crafty and politic, as soon as he was within
the chamber, doubting some treason, and fearing if he should
speak severely and wisely to his mother touching his secret prac-
tices he should be understood, and by that means intercepted,
used his ordinary manner of dissimulation. He began to come
like a cock beating with his arms in such manner as cocks use
to strike with their wings, upon the hangings of the chamber,
whereby, feeling something stirring under them, he cried, " A rat,
a rat," and presently drawing his sword thrust it into the hangings.
This done, he pulled the counsellor, half dead, out by the heels,
made an end of killing him, and being slain, cut his body in
pieces, which he caused to be boiled and then cast it into an
open vault, that so it might serve for food to the hogs.

By this means, having discovered the ambush, and given the

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 249

inventor thereof his just reward, he came again to his mother,
who in the meantime wept and tormented herself, to see all her
hopes frustrate, for that, what fault soever she had committed,
yet was she sore grieved to see her only child made a mere
mockery, every man reproaching her with his folly. One point
thereof she had as then seen before her eyes, which was no small
prick to her conscience, esteeming that the Gods sent her that
punishment for joining incestuously in marriage with the tyrannous
murderer of her husband. He likewise ceased not to invent all
the means he could, to bring his nephew to his end, accusing his
own natural indiscretion, as being the ordinary guide of those that
so much desire the pleasures of the body, who shutting up the
way to all reason respect not what may ensue of their lightness
and great inconstancy. For a pleasure of small moment is suffi-
cient to give them cause of repentance, during their lives, and
make them curse the day and time that ever any such apprehen-
sions entered into their minds, or that they closed their eyes to
reject the honesty requisite in Ladies of her quality, and to despise
the holy institution of those dames that had gone before her both
in nobility and virtue. Geruth called to mind the great praises
and commendations given by the Danes to Rinde, daughter to
King Rothere, the chastest Lady in her time, and withal so shame-
fast that she would never consent to marriage with any prince or
knight whatsoever ; surpassing in virtue all the ladies of her time,
as she herself surmounted them in beauty, good behaviour, and
comeliness.

While in this sort the Queen sat tormenting herself, Hamlet
entered into the chamber, who having once again searched every
corner of the same, distrusting his mother as well as the rest, and
perceiving himself to be alone, began in sober and discreet manner
to speak unto her saying, —

" What treason is this, O most infamous woman, of all that ever
prostrated themselves to the will of an abominable man, who under
the veil of a dissembling creature covereth the most wicked and
detestable crime that man could ever imagine, or was committed.
How may I be assured to trust you, that like a vile wanton

250 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

adulteress, altogether impudent and given over to her pleasure,
runs spreading forth her arms joyfully to embrace the traitorous
villainous tyrant, that murdered my father, and most incestuously
receivest the villain into the lawful bed of your loyal spouse,
impudently entertaining him instead of the dear father of your
miserable and discomforted son, if the gods grant him not
the grace speedily to escape from a captivity so unworthy the
degree he holdeth, and the race and noble family of his ancestors.
Is this the part of a queen, and daughter to a king ? to live like a
brute beast, to follow the pleasure of an abominable king, that
hath murdered a far more honester and better man than himself
in massacring Horvendile, the honour and glory of the Danes,
who are now esteemed of no force nor valour at all, since the
shining splendour of knighthood, was brought to an end by the
most wickedest, and crudest villain living upon earth. I for my
part will never account him for my kinsman, nor once know him
for mine uncle, nor you my dear mother for not having respect
to the blood that ought to have united us so straitly together,
and who neither with your honour nor without suspicion of con-
sent to the death of your husband could ever have agreed to have
married with his cruel enemy. O Queen Geruth, it is licentious-
ness only that hath made you deface out of your mind the memory
of the valour and virtues of the good King your husband and my
father ! It was an unbridled desire that guided the daughter of
Roderick to embrace the Tyrant Fengon, and not to remember
Horvendile, unworthy of so strange entertainment ; neither that
he killed his brother traitorously, and that she being his father's
wife betrayed him, although he so well favoured and loved her,
that for her sake- he utterly bereaved Norway of her riches and
valiant soldiers, to augment the treasures of Roderick, and make
Geruth wife to the hardiest prince in Europe. It is not the part
of a woman, much less of a Princess, in whom all modesty,
courtesy, compassion and love ought to abound, thus to leave her
dear child to fortune in the bloody and murderous hands of a
villain and traitor. Brute beasts do not so: for lions, tigers,
ounces, and leopards fight for the safety and defence of their

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 251

whelps ; and birds that have beaks, claws, and wings, resist such
as would ravish them of their young ones ; but you to the con-
trary expose and deliver me to death, whereas ye should defend
me. Is not this as much as if you should betray me, when you,
knowing the perverseness of the tyrant and his intents, full of
deadly counsel as touching the race and image of his brother,
have not once sought nor desired to find the means to save your
child and only son by sending him into Swethland, Norway, or
England, rather than to leave him as a prey to your infamous
adulterer ? Be not offended, I pray you, Madame, if transported
with dolour and grief I speak so boldly unto you, and that I
respect you less than duty requireth, for you having forgotten me,
and wholly rejected the memory of the deceased King my father,
must not be abashed if I also surpass the bounds and limits of
due consideration. Behold into what distress I am now fallen,
and to what mischief my fortune and your over great lightness,
and want of wisdom have induced me, that I am constrained to
play the madman to save my life, instead of using and practising
arms, following adventures, and seeking all means to make my-
self known to be the true and undoubted heir of the valiant and
virtuous King Horvendile. It was not without cause, and just
occasion, that my gestures, countenances, and words seem all to
proceed from a madman, and that I desire to have all men
esteem me wholly deprived of sense and reasonable understand-
ing, because I am well assured, that he who hath made no con-
science to kill his own brother (accustomed to murders, and
allured with desire of government without control in his treasons)
will not spare to save himself with the like cruelty, in the blood
and flesh of the loins of his brother, by him massacred : and
therefore, it is better for me to fain madness than to use my right
senses as nature hath bestowed them upon me. The bright
shining clearness thereof I am forced to hide under this shadow
of dissimulation, as the sun doth her beams under some great
cloud, when the weather in summer time overcasteth. The face
of a madman serveth to cover my gallant countenance, and the
gestures of a fool are fit for me, to the end that guiding myself

252 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

wisely therein I may preserve my life for the Danes, and the
memory of my late deceased father. For the desire of revenging
his death is so engraven in my heart that if I die not shortly, I
hope to take such and so great vengeance, that these countries
shall for ever speak thereof. Nevertheless I must stay the time,
means, and occasion ; lest by making over great haste I be now
the cause of mine own sudden ruin and overthrow, and by that
means, end, before I begin to effect my heart's desire. He that
hath to do with a wicked, disloyal, cruel, and discourteous man,
must use craft, and politic inventions, such as a fine wit can best
imagine, not to discover his enterprise : for seeing that by force
I cannot effect my desire, reason alloweth me by dissimulation,
subtilty, and secret practices to proceed therein. To conclude,
weep not, Madame, to see my folly, but rather sigh and lament
your own offence, tormenting your conscience in regard of the
infamy that hath so defiled the ancient renown and glory that (in
times past) honoured Queen Geruth : for we are not to sorrow and
grieve at other men's vices, but for our own misdeeds, and great
folly s. I desire you, for the surplus of my proceedings, above all
things, as you love your own life and welfare, that neither the
King, nor any other, may by any means know mine intent, and let
me alone with the rest, for I hope in the end to bring my purpose
to effect."

Although the Queen perceived herself nearly touched, and
that Hamlet moved her to the quick, where she felt herself inter-
ested, nevertheless she forgot all disdain and wrath, which thereby
she might as then have had, hearing herself so sharply chidden and
reproved, for the joy she then conceived, to behold the gallant
spirit of her son, and to think what she might hope, and the easier
expect, of his great policy and wisdom. But on the one side she
durst not lift up her eyes to behold him, remembering her offence,
and on the other side she would gladly have embraced her son,
in regard of the wise admonitions by him given unto her. They
quenched the flames of unbridled desire that before had moved
her to affect King Fengon, and engrafted in her heart the virtuous
actions of her lawful spouse, whom inwardly she much lamented,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 253

when she beheld the lively image and portraiture of his virtue and
great wisdom in her child, representing his father's haughty and
valiant heart. So overcome and vanquished with this honest
passion, and weeping most bitterly, having long time fixed her eyes
upon Hamlet, as being ravished into some great and deep con-
templation, and as it were wholly amazed, at the last embracing
him in her arms, with the like love that a virtuous mother may
or can use, to kiss and entertain her own child, she spake unto
him in this manner.

" I know well, my son, that I have done thee great wrong in
marrying with Fengon, the cruel tyrant and murderer of thy
father and my loyal spouse. But when thou shalt consider the
small means of resistance, and the treason of the palace, with the
little cause of confidence we are to expect or hope for of the
courtiers, all wrought to his will, as also the power he made ready,
if I should have refused to like of him, thou wouldst rather excuse,
than accuse me of lasciviousness or inconstancy, much less offer
me that wrong, to suspect that ever thy mother Geruth once con-
sented to the death and murder of her husband. I swear unto
thee by the majesty of the Gods that if it had lain in my power to
resist the tyrant, although it had been with the loss of my blood,
yea and my life, I would surely have saved the life of my Lord
and husband with as good a will and desire, as since that time,
I have often been a means to hinder and impeach l the shortening
of thy life, which being taken away, I will no longer live here
upon earth : for seeing that thy senses are whole and sound, I
am in hope to see an easy means invented for the revenging of thy
father's death. Nevertheless, mine own sweet son, if thou hast
pity of thyself, or care of the memory of thy father, although thou
wilt do nothing for her that deserveth not the name of a mother
in this respect, I pray thee carry thine affairs wisely ; be not
hasty, nor over furious in thy enterprises; neither yet advance
thyself more than reason shall move thee to effect thy purpose.
Thou seest there is almost no man wherein thou mayest put thy

1 Impeach, hinder ; a sense in which the word was once frequently used, and
the original sense.

254 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

trust, nor any woman to whom I dare utter the least part of my
secrets, that would not presently report it to thine adversary. He,
although in outward show he dissembleth to love thee, the better
to enjoy his pleasures of me, yet he distrusteth and feareth me for
thy sake, and is not so simple to be easily persuaded that thou art
a fool or mad. If thou chance to do anything that seemeth to
proceed of wisdom or policy, how secretly soever it be done, he
will presently be informed thereof, and I am greatly afraid that
the devils have showed him what hath past at this present between
us — Fortune so much pursueth and contrarieth our ease and wel-
fare— or that this murder that now thou hast committed, be not
the cause of both our destructions, which I by no means will seem
to know, but will keep secret both thy wisdom and hardy enter-
prise. I beseech the Gods, my good son, that they guide thy
heart, direct thy counsels, and prosper thy enterprise, so that I
may see thee possess and enjoy that which is thy right, and wear
the crown of Denmark, by the Tyrant taken from thee. May I
rejoice in thy prosperity, and therewith content myself, seeing
with what courage and boldness thou shalt take vengeance upon
the murderer of thy father, as also upon all those that have assisted
and favoured him in his murderous and bloody enterprise."

" Madame," said Hamlet, " I will put my trust in you, and from
henceforth mean not to meddle further with your affairs, but
beseech you, as you love your own flesh and blood, that you will
from henceforth no more esteem of the adulterer mine enemy,
whom I will surely kill, or cause to be put to death in despite of
all the devils in hell. Have he never so many flattering courtiers
to defend him, yet will I bring him to his death ; and they them-
selves also shall bear him company therein, as they have been his
perverse counsellors in the action of killing my father, and his
companions in his treason, massacre, and cruel enterprise. Reason
requireth, that even as traitorously they then caused their Prince
to be put to death, that with the like, nay well much more justice
they should pay the interest of their felonious actions.

" You know, Madame, how Hother your grandfather, and father
to the good King Roderick, having vanquished Guimon, caused

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 255

him to be burnt, for that the cruel villain had done the like to his
lord Gevare, whom he betrayed in the night time. And who
knovveth not that traitors and perjured persons deserve no faith
nor loyalty to be observed towards them. Conditions made with
murderers, ought to be esteemed as cobwebs, and accounted as
if they were things never promised nor agreed upon. If I lay
hands upon Fengon, it will neither be felony nor treason, he being
neither my King nor my Lord ; but I shall justly punish him as
my subject, that hath disloyally behaved himself against his Lord
and sovereign Prince. And seeing that glory is the reward of the
virtuous, and the honour and praise of those that do service to
their natural Prince, why should not blame and dishonour accom-
pany Traitors, and ignominious death all those that dare be so
bold as to lay violent hands upon sacred Kings, that are friends
and companions of the gods, as representing their majesty and
persons. To conclude, glory is the crown of virtue, and the price
of constancy, and seeing that it never accompanieth with infelicity,
but shunneth cowardice and spirits of base and traitorous condi-
tions, it must necessarily follow, that either a glorious death will
be mine end, or with my sword in hand, laden with triumph and
victory, I shall bereave them of their lives that made mine unfor-
tunate, and darkened the beams of that virtue which I possessed
from the blood and famous memory of my Predecessors. For
why should men desire to live, when shame and infamy are the
executioners that torment their consciences. Villainy is the cause
that withholdeth the heart from valiant enterprises, and diverteth
the mind from honest desire of glory and commendation, which
endureth for ever ? I know it is foolishly done to gather fruit
before it is ripe, and to seek to enjoy a benefit not knowing
whether it belong to us of right : but I hope to effect it so well,
and have so great confidence in my fortune that hitherto hath
guided the action of my life, that I shall not die without re-
venging myself upon mine enemy, and that himself shall be the
instrument of his own decay, and execute that which of myself 1
durst not have enterprised."

After this Fengon, as if he had been out some long journey,

256 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

came to the Court again and asked for him that had received the
charge to play the intelligencer, to entrap Hamlet, in his dis-
sembled wisdom. He was abashed to hear neither news nor
tidings of him, and for that cause asked Hamlet what was be-
come of him, naming the man. The Prince, that never used
lying, and who in all the answers that ever he made during his
counterfeit madness never strayed from the truth, as a generous
mind is a mortal enemy to untruth, answered and said, that the
counsellor he sought for was gone down through the privy;
where, being choked by the filthiness of the place, the hogs
meeting him had filled their bellies.

CHAPTER IV.

How Fengon the third time devised to send Hamlet to the King
of England^ with secret letters to have him put to death; and
how Hamlet, when hts companions slept, read the Letters,
and instead of them, counterfeited others, willing the King
of England to put the two Messengers to death, and to marry
his daughter to Hamlet, which was effected, and how Hamlet
escaped out of England.

A MAN would have judged anything rather than that Hamlet
had committed that murder. Nevertheless Fengon could not
content himself, but still his mind gave him, that the fool would
play him some trick of legerdemain, and willing would have
killed him. But he feared King Roderick, his father-in-law, and
further durst not offend the Queen, mother to the fool, whom she
loved and much cherished, showing great grief and heaviness
to see him so transported out of his wits. And in that conceit,
seeking to be rid of him, Fengon determined to find the means
to do it by the aid of a stranger, making the King of England
minister of his massacring resolution. He chose rather that his
friend should defile his renown, with so great a wickedness, than
himself to fall into perpetual infamy, by an exploit of so great
cruelty. To the King of England Fengon purposed to send

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 257

Hamlet, and by letters desire the King of England to put Hamlet
to death.

Hamlet understanding that he should be sent into England,
presently doubted the occasion of his voyage. For that cause,
speaking to the Queen, he desired her not to make any show of
sorrow or grief for his departure, but rather counterfeit a glad-
ness, as being rid of his presence, whom, although she loved,
yet she daily grieved to see him in so pitiful estate, deprived of
all sense and reason. He desired her further, that she should
hang the hall with tapestry, and make it fast with nails upon
the walls, and keep the brands for him which he had sharpened
at the points then when as he said he made arrows to revenge
the death of his father. Lastly, he counselled her, that the
year after his departure being accomplished, she should celebrate
his funerals : assuring her, that at the same instant, she should
see him return with great contentment and pleasure unto her
for that his voyage. Now to bear him company, were assigned
two of Fengon's faithful ministers, bearing letters engraved! in
wood, that contained Hamlet's death, in such sort as he had
advertised the King of England. But the subtle Danish prince,
being at sea, whilst his companions slept, read the letters, and
knew his uncle's great treason, with the wicked and villainous
minds of the two courtiers that led him to the slaughter. He
razed out the letters that concerned his death, and instead there-
of graved others, with commission to the King of England to
hang his two companions. Not content to turn the death they
had devised against him upon their own necks, he wrote further,
that King Fengon willed him, to give his daughter to Hamlet in
marriage. So arriving in England, the messengers presented
themselves to the King, giving him Fengon's letters ; who having
read the contents, said nothing as then, but staid convenient
time to effect Fengon's desire. Meantime he used the Danes
familiarly, doing them that honour to sit at his table, for that
kings as then were not so curiously nor solemnly served as in
these our days. For in these days mean kings and lords of
small revenue are as difficult and hard to be seen, as in times

R

258 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

past the monarchies of Persia used to be : or as it is reported of
the great King of Ethiopia, who will not permit any man to see
his face, which ordinarily he covereth with a veil. And as the
messengers sat at the table with the King, subtle Hamlet was so
far from being merry with them, that he would not taste one
bit of meat, bread, nor cup of beer whatsoever, as then set upon
the table. It was not without great wondering of the company,
abashed to see a young man and a stranger not to esteem of the
delicate meats and pleasant drinks served at the banquet, reject-
ing them as things filthy, evil of taste, and worse prepared. The
King who for that time dissembled what he thought, caused his
guests to be conveyed into their chamber, willing one of his
secret servants to hide himself therein, and so certify him what
speeches passed among the Danes at their going to bed.

Now they were no sooner entered into the chamber, and those
that were appointed to attend upon them gone out, but Hamlet's
companions asked him why he refused to eat and drink of that
which he found upon the table, not honouring the banquet of so
great a king, that entertained them in friendly sort, with such
honour and courtesy as it deserved. They said further, that he
did not well, but dishonoured him that sent him, as if he sent
men into England that feared to be poisoned by so great a king.
The Prince, that had done nothing without reason and prudent
consideration, answered them and said : " What ! think you, that
I will eat bread dipt in human blood, and defile my throat with
the rust of iron, and use that meat that stinketh and savoureth of
man's flesh, already putrified and corrupted, and that scenteth like
the savour of a dead carrion long since cast into a vault ! And
how would you have me to respect the King, that hath the
countenance of a slave, and the Queen who, instead of great
majesty, hath done three things more like a woman of base
parentage, and fitter for a waiting Gentlewoman than beseeming
a Lady of her quality and estate." Having said so, he used
many injurious and sharp speeches as well against the King
and Queen, as others that had assisted at the banquet for the
entertainment of the Danish Ambassadors. But therein Hamlet

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 259

said truth, as hereafter you shall hear ; for that in those days, the
North parts of the world living as then under Satan's laws, were
full of enchanters, so that there was not any young gentleman
whatsoever that knew not something therein sufficient to serve
his turn, if need required. As yet in those days in Gothland and
Biarmy, there are many that knew not what the Christian religion
permitteth, as by reading the histories of Norway and Gothland
you may easily perceive. And so Hamlet, while his father lived,
had been instructed in that devilish art, whereby the wicked
spirit abuseth mankind, and advertiseth him (as he can) of things
past.

It toucheth not the matter herein to discover the parts of
divination in man, and whether this Prince by reason of his over
great melancholy, had received those impressions, divining that
which never any but himself had before declared. The Philo-
sophers discoursing of divers deep points of philosophy attribute
the force of those divinations to such as are Saturnists by com-
plexion, who oftentimes speak of things which, their fury ceasing,
they then already can hardly understand who are the pronouncers.
For that cause Plato saith, many diviners and many poets, after
the force and vigour of their fire beginneth to lessen, do hardly
understand what they have written, although entreating of such
things while the spirit of divination continueth upon them, they
do in such sort discourse thereof that the authors and inventors
of the arts themselves by them alleged commend their discourses
and subtle disputations. Likewise I mean not to relate that
which divers men believe, that a reasonable soul becometh the
habitation of a meaner sort of devils, by whom men learn the
secrets of things natural. Much less do I account of the sup-
posed governors of the world feigned by magicians, by whose means
they brag to effect marvellous things. It would seem miraculous
that Hamlet should divine in that sort which after proved so true,
if, as I said before, the devil had not knowledge of things past.
But to grant that he knoweth things to come I hope you shall
never find me in so gross an error, nor will compare and make
equal derivation and conjecture with those that are made by the

260 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

spirit of God and pronounced by the holy prophets that tasted of
that marvellous science, to whom only were declared the secrets
and wondrous works of the almighty. Yet there are some impos-
turous companions that impute so much divinity to the Devil the
father of lies, that they attribute unto him the truth of the know-
ledge of things that shall happen unto men. They allege the con-
ference of Saul with the witch, although one example out of the
Holy Scriptures specially set down for the condemnation of wicked
man, is not of force to give a sufficient law to all the world. For
they themselves confess that they can divine, not according to the
universal cause of things, but by signs borrowed from such like
causes, which are always alike ; and by those conjectures they can
give judgment of things to come. But all this being grounded
upon a weak support, which is a simple conjecture, and having
so slender a foundation, as some foolish or late experience, the
fictions being voluntary, it should be a great folly in a man of
good judgment, specially one that embraceth the preaching of the
gospel and seeketh after no other but the truth hereof, to repose
upon any of these likelihoods or writings full of deceit.

As touching magical operations, I will grant them somewhat
therein ; finding divers histories that write thereof, and that the
Bible maketh mention and forbiddeth the use thereof. Yea the
laws of the Gentiles and ordinances of Emperors, have been made
against it, in such sort, that Mahomet the great Heretic and friend
of the Devil, by whose subtleties he abused most part of the
East countries, hath ordained great punishments for such as use
and practise those unlawful and damnable arts. Which for this
time leaving off, let us return to Hamlet, brought up in these
abuses, according to the manner of his country, whose companions
hearing his answer reproached him of folly, saying that he could
by no means show a greater point of indiscretion than in despising
that which is lawful, and rejecting that which all men received as a
necessary thing. They said that he had grossly forgotten himself,
as in that sort to accuse such and so excellent a man as the King of
England, and to slander the Queen, being then as famous and wise a
princess, as any at that day reigning in the Islands thereabouts, who

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 261

would cause him to be punished, according to his deserts. But he
continuing in his dissimulation, mocked, saying that he had not done
anything that was not good and most true. On the other side
the King being advertised thereof by him that stood to hear the
discourse, judged presently that Hamlet speaking so ambiguously
was either a perfect fool, or else one of the wisest princes in his
time, answering so suddenly, and so much to the purpose, upon
the demand by his companions made touching his behaviour.
The better to find the truth he caused the babbler to be sent for,
of whom he inquired in what place the corn grew whereof he
made bread for his table, and whether in that ground there were
not some signs or news of a battle fought whereby human blood
had therein been shed ? The babbler answered that not far from
thence there lay a field full of dead men's bones, in times past
slain in a battle, as by the great heaps of wounded skulls, might
well appear, and for that the ground in that part was become
fertiler than other grounds, by reason of the fat and humours of
the dead bodies, that every year the farmers used there to have
in the best wheat they could find to serve his majesty's house.
The King perceiving it to be true, according to the young Prince's
words, asked where the hogs had been fed that were killed to be
served at his table ? Answer was made him, that those hogs getting
out of the said field wherein they were kept, had found the body
of a thief that had been hanged for his demerits, and had eaten
thereof. Whereat the King of England being abashed, would
needs know with what water the beer he used to drink of, had
been brewed ? which having known, he caused the river to be
digged somewhat deeper, and therein found great store of swords
and rusty armours, that gave an ill savour to the drink.

It were good that I should here dilate somewhat of Merlin's
prophesies which are said to be spoken of him before he was fully
one year old. If you consider well what hath already been
spoken, it is no hard matter to divine of things past, although
the minister of Satan therein played his part, giving sudden and
prompt answers to this young Prince, for that herein are nothing
but natural things, such as were well known to be true, and there-

262 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

fore not needful to dream of things to come. This known, the
King was greatly moved with a certain curiosity to know why the
Danish Prince said that he had the countenance of a slave,
suspecting thereby that he reproached the baseness of his blood
and that he would affirm that never any Prince had been his sire.
Wherein to satisfy himself, he went to his mother, and leading
her into a secret chamber, which he shut as soon as they were
entered, desired her of her honour to show him of whom he was
engendered in this world. The good Lady, well assured that
never any man had been acquainted with her love touching any
other man than her husband, sware that the King her husband
only was the man, but the King her son, already convinced with
the truth of the Danish Prince's answers, threatened his mother
to make her tell by force, if otherwise she would not confess it.
She for fear of death, acknowledged that she had given herself to
a slave, and made him father to the King of England. Whereat
the King was abashed and wholly ashamed. I give them leave
to judge who esteem themselves honester than their neighbours,
and suppose that there can be nothing amiss in their houses,
whether they would make more inquiry than is requisite to know
that which they would rather not have known. Nevertheless,
dissembling what he thought, and biting upon the bridle, rather
than he would deprive himself, by publishing the lasciviousness of
his mother, this King of England thought better to leave a great
sin unpunished than thereby to make himself contemptible to
his subjects, who peradventure would have rejected him, as not
desiring to have a bastard to reign over so great a kingdom.

But as he was sorry to hear his mother's confession, on the
other side he took great pleasure in the subtilty and quick spirit
of the young Prince, and for that cause went unto him to ask him
why he had reproved three things in his Queen convenient for a
slave, and savouring more of baseness than of royalty, and far unfit
for the majesty of a great Prince. The King, not content to have
received a great displeasure by knowing himself to be a bastard,
and to have heard with what injuries he charged her whom he
loved best in all the world, would not content himself until he

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 263

also understood that which displeased him as much as his own
proper disgrace. This was that his Queen was the daughter of a
chambermaid, and withal Hamlet noted certain foolish coun-
tenances she made, which not only showed of what parentage she
came, but also that her humours savoured of the baseness and
low degree of her parents, whose mother, he assured the King,
was as then yet holden in servitude. The King admiring the
young Prince, and beholding in him some matter of greater
respect than in the common sort of men, gave him his daughter
in marriage, according to the counterfeit letters by him devised,
and the next day caused the two servants of Fengon to be
executed, to satisfy, as he thought, King Fengon's desire. But
Hamlet, although the sport pleased him well, and that the King
of England could not have done him a greater favour, made as
though he had been much offended, threatening the King to be
revenged. The King, to appease him, gave him a great sum of
gold, which Hamlet caused to be molten, and put it into two
staves, made hollow for the same purpose, to serve his turn there-
with as need should require. Of all other the King's treasures
he took nothing with him into Denmark but only those two
staves. As soon as the year began to be at an end, having some-
what before obtained licence of the King, his father-in-law, to
depart, Hamlet went for Denmark. Then with all speed that he
could he should return again into England to marry the King of
England's daughter, and so set sail for Denmark.

CHAPTER V.

How Hamlet, having escaped out of England, arrived in Denmark
the same day that the Danes were celebrating his funerals,
supposing him to be dead in England ; and how he revenged
his father's death upon his uncle and the rest of the courtiers ;
and what followed.

HAMLET in that sort sailing into Denmark, being arrived in the
country, entered into the palace of his uncle the same day that

264 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

they were celebrating his funerals. Going into the hall, he pro-
cured no small astonishment and wonder to them all, no man
thinking other but that he had been dead. Among the which
many cf them had rejoiced not a little, for the pleasure which
they knew Fengon would conceive for so pleasant a loss ; and
some were sad, as remembering the honourable King Horven-
dile, whose victories they could by no means forget, much less
deface out of their memories that which pertained unto him.
These greatly rejoiced to see a false report spread of Hamlet's
death, and that the tyrant had not as yet obtained his will of the
heir of Jutie. They rather hoped God would restore him to his
senses again for the good and welfare of that province. Their
amazement at the last being turned into laughter, all that as then
were assistant at the funeral banquet of him whom they esteemed
dead, mocked at each other for having been so simply deceived.
Wondering at the Prince, that in his so long a voyage he had not
recovered any of his senses, they asked what was become of them
that had borne him company into Great Britain, to whom he
made answer (showing them the two hollow staves, wherein he
had put his molten gold, that the King of England had given
him to appease his fury, concerning the murder of his two com-
panions) and said, here they are both. Whereat many that already
knew his humours, presently conjectured that he had played some
trick of legerdemain, and to deliver himself out of danger, had
thrown them into the pit prepared for him. So fearing to follow
after them and light upon some evil adventure, they went pre-
sently out of the court, and it was well for them that they did
so, considering the tragedy acted by him the same day. It had
been accounted his funeral, but in truth their last day that as
then rejoiced. For when every man busied himself to make
good cheer, and Hamlet's arrival provoked them more to drink
and carouse, the Prince himself at that time played the butler and
a gentleman attending on the tables. He did not suffer the pots
nor goblets to be empty, whereby he gave the noblemen such store
of liquor, that all of them being full laden with wine and gorged
with meat, were constrained to lay themselves down in the same

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 265

place where they had supped, so much their senses were dulled,
and overcome with the fire of over great drinking, a vice common
and familiar among the Almaines, and other nations inhabiting
the north parts of the world. When Hamlet perceived this, and
found so good opportunity to effect his purpose and be revenged
of his enemies, and by that means to abandon the actions, ges-
tures, and apparel of a madman, occasion so fitly finding his turn,
and as it were effecting itself, he failed not to take hold thereof.
Seeing those drunken bodies, filled with wine, lying like hogs,
upon the ground, some sleeping, others vomiting the over great
abundance of wine which without measure they had swallowed
up, Hamlet made the hangings about the hall to fall down and
cover them all over, which he nailed to the ground, being boarded,
and at the ends thereof he stuck the brands whereof I spake before
by him sharpened, which served for pricks, binding and tying the
hangings, in such sort, that what force soever they used to loose
themselves, it was impossible to get from under them. And
presently he set fire in the four corners of the hall, in such sort
that of all that were as then therein not one escaped away. They
were forced to purge their sins by fire, and dry up the great
abundance of liquor by them received into their bodies, all of
them dying in the inevitable and merciless flames of the hot and
burning fire.

The Prince perceiving this, became wise, and knowing that his
uncle before the end of the banquet had withdrawn himself into
his chamber, which stood apart from the place where the fire
burnt, he went thither, and entering into the chamber laid hand
upon the sword of his father's murderer, leaving his own which,
while he was at the banquet, some of the courtiers had nailed
fast into the scabbard. Then going to Fengon, Hamlet said, " I
wonder, disloyal king, how thou canst sleep here at thine ease
when all thy palace is burnt. The fire thereof has burnt the
greatest part of thy courtiers and ministers of thy cruelty and
detestable tyrannies. What is more, I cannot imagine how thou
shouldst well assure thyself and thy estate, as now to take thy
ease, seeing Hamlet so near thee armed with the shafts by him

266 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

prepared long since and at this present ready to revenge the
traitorous injury by thee done to his Lord and Father."

Fengon then knew the truth of his nephew's subtle practice,
and heard him speak with stayed mind. What is more, he per-
ceived a sword naked in his hand, which he already lifted up to
deprive him of his life. He leaped then quickly out of the bed,
taking hold of Hamlet's sword, that was nailed into the scabbard,
which as he sought to pull out, Hamlet gave him such a blow
upon the chin of the neck, that he cut his head clean from his
shoulders, and as he fell to the ground said: "This just and
violent death is a first reward for such as thou art. Now go thy
ways, and when thou comest in hell, see thou forget not to tell
thy brother, whom thou traitorously slewest, that it was his son
that sent thee thither with the message, to the end that being
comforted thereby, his soul may rest among the blessed spirits,
and quit me of the obligation which bound me to pursue his
vengeance upon mine owne blood, that seeing it was by thee
that I lost the chief thing that tied me to this alliance and con-
sanguinity."

This was a man, to say the truth, hardy, courageous, and
worthy of eternal commendation, who arming himself with a
crafty, dissembling and strange show of being distract out of
his wits, under that pretence deceived the wise, politic, and
crafty : thereby not only preserving his life from the treasons and
wicked practices of the tyrant, but, which is more, by a new and
unexpected kind of punishment revenged his father's death
many years after the act committed. He directed his courses
with such patience, and effected his purposes with so great
boldness and constancy, that he left a judgment to be decided
among men of wisdom which was more commendable in him,
his constancy, or magnanimity, or his wisdom in ordering his
affairs, according to the premeditable determination he had
conceived.

If vengeance ever seem to have any show of justice, it is
then, when piety and affection constrain us to remember our
fathers unjustly murdered, as the things whereby we are dis-

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 267

pensed withal, and which seek the means not to leave treason
and murder unpunished : seeing David a holy and just king, and
of nature simple, courteous, and debonaire, yet when he died he
charged his son Solomon, that succeeded him in his throne, not
to suffer certain men that had done him injury to escape unpun-
ished. Not that this holy king, as then ready to die, and to give
account before God of all his actions, was careful or desirous of
revenge, but to leave this example unto us, that where the Prince
or country is interested, the desire of revenge cannot by any
means (how small soever) bear the title of condemnation, but is
rather commendable and worthy of praise : for otherwise the good
kings of Judah, nor others, had not pursued them to death that had
offended their predecessors, if God himself had not inspired and
engraven that desire within their hearts. Hereof the Athenian
laws bear witness, whose custom was to erect images in remem-
brance of those men that, revenging the injuries of the common-
wealth, boldly massacred tyrants and such as troubled the peace
and welfare of the citizens.

Hamlet having in this manner revenged himself, durst not
presently declare his action to the people, but to the contrary
determined to work by policy, so to give them intelligence what
he had done, and the reason that drew him thereunto. Being
accompanied with such of his father's friends that then were
rising, he stayed to see what the people would do, when they
should hear of that sudden and fearful action. The next morn-
ing the towns bordering thereabouts desiring to know from
whence the flames of fire proceeded which they had seen the
night before, came thither, and perceiving the King's palace burnt
to ashes and many bodies, most part consumed, lying among the
ruins of the house, all of them were much abashed, nothing being
left of the palace but the foundation. But they were much more
amazed to behold the body of the King all bloody, and his head
cut off lying hard by him. Thereat some began to threaten re-
venge, yet not knowing against whom. Others, beholding so
lamentable a spectacle, armed themselves. The rest rejoiced,
yet dare not to make any show thereof. Some detested the

268 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

cruelty, others lamented the death of their Prince ; but the great-
est part, calling Horvendile's murder to remembrance, acknow-
ledging a just judgment from above, that had thrown down the
pride of the tyrant. In this sort the diversities of opinions among
the multitude of the people being many, yet every man ignorant
what would be the issue of that tragedy, none stirred from thence,
neither yet attempted to move any tumult, every man fearing his
own skin and distrusting his neighbour, esteeming each other to
be consenting to the massacre.

CHAPTER VI.

How Hamlet, having slain /its Uncle and burnt his palace^ made
an oration to the Danes, to show them what he had done ; and
how they made him King of Denmark ; and what followed.

HAMLET then seeing the people to be so quiet, and most part of
them not using any words, all searching only and simply the cause
of this ruin and destruction, not minding to lose any time, but
aiding himself with the commodity thereof, entered among the
multitude of people, and, standing in the middle, spake unto
them as followeth : —

" If there be any among you, good people of Denmark, that as
yet have fresh within your memories the wrong done to the valiant
King Horvendile, let him not be moved, nor think it strange to
behold the confused, hideous, and fearful spectacle of this present
calamity. If there be any man that affecteth fidelity, and alloweth
of the love and duty that man is bound to show his parents, and
find it a just cause to call to remembrance the injuries and
wrongs that have been done to our progenitors, let him not be
ashamed beholding this massacre, much less offended to see so
fearful a ruin both of men and of the bravest house in all this
country. For the hand that hath done this justice could not effect
it by any other means, neither yet was it lawful for him to do it
otherwise than by ruinating both sensible and insensible things,
thereby to preserve the memory of a just vengeance.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 269

" I see well, my good friends, and am very glad to know so
good attention and devotion in you, that you are sorry before
your eyes to see Fengon so murdered, and without a head, which
heretofore you acknowledged for your commander. But I pray
you remember, this body is not the body of a king, but of an
execrable tyrant, and a parricide most detestable. O Danes, the
spectacle was much more hideous when Horvendile your King
was murdered by his brother. What, should I say a brother?
Nay, rather by the most abominable executioner that ever beheld
the same. It was you that saw Horvendile's members massacred,
and that with tears and lamentations accompanied him to the
grave. His body disfigured, hurt in a thousand places, and
misused in ten times as many fashions. And who doubteth,
seeing experience hath taught you, that the tyrant, in mas-
sacring your lawful King, sought only to infringe the ancient
liberties of the common people ? It was one hand only that
murdering Horvendile, cruelly despoiled him of life, and by the
same means unjustly bereaved you of your ancient liberties, and
delighted more in oppression than to embrace the pleasant coun-
tenance of prosperous liberty, without adventuring for the same ?
And what mad man is he, that delighteth more in the tyranny of
Fengon, than in the clemency and renewed courtesy of Horven-
dile ? If it be so, that by clemency and affability, the hardest and
stoutest hearts are mollified and made tractable, and that evil and
hard usage causeth subjects to be outrageous and unruly : why
behold you not the debonair carriage of the first, to compare it
with the cruelties and insolences of the second, in every respect as
cruel and barbarous as his brother was gentle, meek, and courteous.
Remember, O you Danes, remember, what love and amity Hor-
vendile showed unto you, with what equity and justice he swayed
the great affairs of this kingdom, and with what humanity and
courtesy he defended and cherished you, and then I am assured
that the simplest man among you will both remember and
acknowledge, that he had a most peaceable, just, and righteous
King taken from him, to place in his throne a tyrant and murderer
of his brother. Fengon hath perverted all right, abolished the

270 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

ancient Laws of our fathers, contaminated the memories of our
ancestors, and by his wickedness polluted the integrity of this
kingdom, upon the neck thereof having placed the troublesome
yoke of heavy servitude. He has abolished that liberty wherein
Horvendile used to maintain you, and suffer you to live at your
ease. And should you now be sorry to see the end of your mis-
chiefs, and that this miserable wretch, pressed down with the
burden of his offences, at this present payeth the usury of the
parricide committed upon the body of his brother. Who would
not himself be the revenger of the outrage done to me, whom he
sought to deprive of mine inheritance, taking from Denmark a
lawful successor, to plant a wicked stranger, and bring into cap-
tivity those that my father had enfranchised, and delivered out of
misery and bondage? And what man is he that having any
spark of wisdom, would esteem a good deed to be an injury, and
account pleasures equal with wrongs and evident outrages ? It
were then great folly and temerity in Princes and valiant com-
manders in the wars, to expose themselves to perils and hazards
of their lives for the welfare of the common people, if that for a
recompense they should reap hatred and indignation of the mul-
titude. To what end should Hother have punished Balder, if
instead of recompense, the Danes and Swethlanders had banished
him to receive and accept the successors of him that desired
nought but his ruin and overthrow? What is he that hath so
small feeling of reason and equity, that would be grieved to see
treason rewarded with the like, and that an evil act is punished
with just demerit, in the party himself that was the occasion ?
Who was ever sorrowful to behold the murderer of innocents
brought to his end ? or what man weepeth to see a just massacre
done upon a Tyrant, usurper, villain, and bloody personage ?

" I perceive you are attentive, and abashed for not knowing the
author of your deliverance, and sorry that you cannot tell to whom
you should be thankful for such and so great a benefit as the de-
struction of a tyrant, and the overthrow of a place that was the
storehouse of his villainies and the true receptacle of all the
thieves and traitors in this kingdom. But behold here in your

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 271

presence him that brought so good an enterprise to effect. It
is I, my good friends, it is I, that confess I have taken ven-
geance for the violence done unto my lord and father, and for
the subjection and servitude that I perceived in this Country,
whereof I am the just and lawful successor. It is I alone, that
have done this piece of work whereunto you ought to have lent
me your hands and therein have aided and assisted me, I have
only accomplished that, which all of you might justly have
effected, by good reason, without falling into any point of treason
or felony. It is true that I hope so much of your good wills
towards the deceased King Horvendile, and that the remem-
brances of his virtues is yet so fresh within your memories, that
if I had required your aid herein you would not have denied it,
specially to your natural Prince. But it liked me best to do it
myself alone, thinking it a good thing to punish the wicked with-
out hazarding the lives of my friends and loyal subjects, not
desiring to burthen other men's shoulders with this weight, for
that I made account to effect it well enough without exposing any
man into danger, and by publishing the same should clean have
overthrown the device which at this present I have so happily
brought to pass. I have burnt the bodies of the courtiers to
ashes, being companions in the mischiefs and treasons of the
tyrant, but I have left Fengon whole, that you might punish his
dead carcass, seeing that when he lived you durst not lay hands
upon him, to accomplish the full punishment and vengeance due
unto him, and so satisfy your choler upon the bones of him that
filled his greedy hands and coffers with your riches, and shed the
blood of your brethren and friends. Be joyful then, my good
friends, make ready the nosegay for this usurping King, burn his
abominable body and cast the ashes of him that hath been hurt-
ful to all the world, into the air ; drive from you the sparks of
pity, to the end that neither silver, nor crystal cup, nor sacred
tomb may be the restful habitation of the relics and bones of so
detestable a man. Let not one trace of a parricide be seen, nor
your country defiled with the presence of the least member of this
tyrant without pity, that your neighbours may not smell the con-

272 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

tagion, nor our land the polluted infection of a body condemned
for his wickedness. I have done my part, to present him to you
in this sort, now it belongs to you to make an end of the work
and put to the last hand of duty, whereunto your several functions
call you. For in this sort you must honour abominable princes :
and such ought to be the funeral of a tyrant, parricide, and
usurper both of the bed and patrimony that no way belonged
unto him, who having bereaved his country of liberty, it is fit that
the land refuse to give him a place for the eternal rest of his bones.
"O my good friends, seeing you know the wrong that hath
been done unto me, what my griefs are and in what misery I
have lived since the death of the King, my lord and father, and
seeing that you have both known and tasted these things then
whenas I could not conceive the outrage that I felt : what need
I recite it unto you ? What benefit would it be to discover it
before them that knowing it would burst as it were with despite
to hear of my hard chance, and curse Fortune for so much
abasing a royal Prince as to deprive him of his majesty, al-
though not any of you durst so much as show one sight of sorrow
or sadness ? You know how my stepfather conspired my death,
and sought by divers means to take away my life, how I was for-
saken of the Queen my mother, mocked of my friends, and
despised of mine own subjects. Hitherto I have lived laden
with grief, and wholly confounded in tears, my life still ac-
companied with fear and suspicion, expecting the hour when
the sharp sword would make an end of my life and miser-
able anguishes. How many times counterfeiting the madman,
have I heard you pity my distress, and secretly lament to see
me disinherited, and yet no man sought to revenge the death
of my father, nor to punish the treason of my incestuous
uncle, full of murders and massacres ? This charity minis-
tered comfort, and your affectionate complaints made me evi-
dently see your goodwills, that you had in memory the calamity
of your Prince, and within your hearts engraven the desire
of vengeance for the death of him that deserved a long life.
What heart can be so hard and untractable, or spirit so

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 273

severe, cruel and rigorous, that would not relent at the remem-
brance of my extremities, and take pity of an orphan child, so
abandoned of the world ? What eyes were so void of moisture,
but would distil a field of tears, to see a poor prince assaulted by
his own subjects, betrayed by his mother, pursued by his uncle,
and so much oppressed that his friends durst not show the
effects of their charity and good affection ? O, my good friends,
show pity to him whom you have nourished, and let your hearts
take some compassion upon the memory of my misfortunes. I
speak to you that are innocent of all treason, and never defiled
your hands, spirits, nor desires with the blood of the great and
virtuous Horvendile. Take pity upon the Queen some time your
sovereign lady, and my right honourable mother, forced by the
tyrant, and rejoice to see the end and extinguishing of the object
of her dishonour, which constrained her to be less pitiful to her
own blood so far as to embrace the murderer of her own dear
spouse, charging herself with a double burden of infamy and
incest, together with injuring and disannulling of her house, and
the ruin of her race. This hath been the occasion that made
me counterfeit folly, and cover my intents under a veil of mere
madness, which hath wisdom and policy thereby to enclose the
fruit of this vengeance which that it hath attained to the full
point of efficacy and perfect accomplishment you yourselves shall
be judges, for touching this and other things concerning my
profit, and the managing of great affairs, I refer myself to your
counsels, and thereunto am fully determined to yield, as being
those that trample under your feet the murderers of my father,
and despise the ashes of him that hath polluted and violated the
spouse of his brother, by him massacred, that hath committed
felony against his Lord, traitorously assailed the majesty of his
King, and odiously thralled his country under servitude and
bondage, and you his loyal subjects from whom he bereaved your
liberty, and feared not to add incest to parricide, detestable to
all the world, to you also it belongeth by duty and reason com-
monly to defend and protect Hamlet, the minister and executor
of just vengeance, who being jealous of your honour and reputa-

274 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

tion, hath hazarded himself, hoping you will serve him for fathers,
defenders, and tutors, and regarding him in pity, restore him to
his goods and inheritances. It is I that have taken away the
infamy of my country, and extinguished the fire that embraced
your fortunes, I have washed the spots that defiled the reputa-
tion of the Queen, overthrowing both the tyrant and the tyranny
and beguiling the subtleties of the craftiest deceiver in the world,
and by that means brought his wickedness and impostures to an
end. I was grieved at the injury committed both to my father,
and my native country, and have slain him that used more
rigorous commandments over you, than was either just or con-
venient to be used unto men that have commanded the valiantest
nations in the world. Seeing then he was such a one to you, it
is reason, that you acknowledge and think well of the benefit
for the good I had done your posterity, and admiring my spirit
and wisdom, choose me your King, if you think me worthy of the
place. You see I am the author of your preservation, heir of my
father's kingdom, not straying in any point from his virtuous
action, no murderer, violent parricide, nor man that ever offended
any of you but only the vicious. I am lawful successor in the
kingdom, and just revenger of a crime above all others most
grievous and punishable. It is to me, that you owe the benefit
of your liberty received, and of the subversion of that tyranny
that so much afflicted you. I have trodden under feet the yoke
of the tyrant, and overwhelmed his throne, and taken the sceptre
out of the hands of him that abused a holy and just authority :
but it is you that are to recompense those that have well de-
served, you know what is the reward of so great desert, and
being in your hands to distribute the same, it is of you, that
I demand the price of my virtue and the recompense of my
victories."

This oration of the young Prince so moved the hearts of the
Danes, and won the affections of the nobility, that some wept for
pity other for joy, to see the wisdom and gallant spirit of Hamlet.
Having made an end of their sorrow, all with one consent pro-
claimed him King of Jutie and Chersonese, at this present the

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 275

proper country of Denmark. Having celebrated his coronation,
and received the homages and fidelities of his subjects, he went
into England to fetch his wife, and rejoiced with his father-in-law
touching his good fortune. But it wanted little that the King of
England had not accomplished that which Fengon with all his
subtilties could never attain.

CHAPTER VII.

How Hamlet after his coronation went into England, and how the
King of England secretly would have put him to death^ and
how he slew the King of England : and returned again to
Denmark with two wives, and what followed.

HAMLET being in England showed the King what means he had
wrought to recover his kingdom. But when the King of England
understood of Fengon's death, he was both abashed and confused
in his mind, at that instant feeling himself assailed with two great
passions, for that in times past, he and Fengon having been com-
panions together in arms, had given each other their faith and
promises, by oath, that if either of them chanced to be slain by
any man whatsoever, he that survived, taking the quarrel upon
him as his own, should never cease till he were revenged, or at
the least do his endeavour. This promise incited the barbarous
king to massacre Hamlet. But the alliance, presenting itself
before his eyes, and beholding the one dead, although his friend,
and the other alive, and husband to his daughter, made him
deface his desire of revenge. But in the end the conscience
of his oath and promise obtained the upper hand, and secretly
made him conclude the death of his son-in-law, which enterprisej
after that, was cause of his own death and overrunning of the
whole country of England by the cruelty and despight conceived
by the King of Denmark. I have purposely omitted the dis-
course of that battle, as not much pertinent to our matter, as also,
not to trouble you with too tedious a discourse, being content to
show you the end of this wise and valiant King Hamlet, who

276 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

revenging himself upon so many enemies, and discovering all
the treasons practised against his life, in the end serred for a
sport to fortune, and an example to all great personages, that
trust overmuch to the felicities of this world, that are of small
moment and less continuance.

The King of England, perceiving that he could not easily effect
his desire upon the King his son-in-law, as also not being willing
to break the laws and rites of hospitality, determined to make
a stranger the revenger of his injury, and so accomplish his oath
made to Fengon without defiling his hands with the blood of the
husband of his daughter, and polluting his house by the traitorous
massacring of his friend. In reading of this history it seemeth
Hamlet should resemble another Hercules, sent into divers places
of the world, by Euristheus, solicited by Juno, where he knew any
dangerous adventure, thereby to overthrow and destroy him ; or
else Bellerophon sent to Ariobatus to put him to death ; or,
leaving profane histories, another Urias by King David appointed
to be placed in the forefront of the battle, and the man that
should be first slain by the barbarians. For the King of Eng-
land's wife being dead not long before (although he cared not for
marrying another woman) desired his son-in-law to make a voyage
for him into Scotland, flattering him in such sort, that he made
him believe that his singular wisdom caused him to prefer him
to that embassage, assuring himself that it were impossible that
Hamlet, the subtlest and wisest prince in the world, should take
anything in the world in hand without effecting the same.

Now the Queen of Scots being a maid and of a haughty courage,
despised marriage with all men, as not esteeming any worthy to
be her companion, in such manner that by reason of this arrogant
opinion there never came any man to desire her love but she
caused him to lose his life. But the Danish King's fortune was
so good that Hermetrude, for so was the Queen's name, hearing
that Hamlet was come thither to entreat a marriage between her
and the King of England, forgot all her pride, and despoiling her-
self of her stern nature, being as then determined to make him,
being the greatest Prince as then living, her husband, and deprive

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 277

the English Princess of her spouse, whom she thought fit for no
one but herself. And so this Amazon without love, disdaining
Cupid, by her free-will submitted her haughty mind. The Dane
arriving in her Court, she desired to see the old King of England's
letters, and mocking at his fond appetites, whose blood as then
was half congealed, cast her eyes upon the young and pleasant
Adonis of the North, esteeming herself happy to have such a prey
fall into her hands, whereof she made her full account to have the
possession. She that never had been overcome by the grace,
courtesy, valour, or riches of any prince nor lord whatsoever, was
as then vanquished with the only report of the subtleties of the
Dane. She, knowing that he was already affianced to the daughter
of the King of England, spake unto him and said, " I never looked
for so great a bliss, neither from the Gods, nor yet from fortune,
as to behold in my countries the most complete Prince in the North,
and he that hath made himself famous and renowned through
all the nations of the world, as well neighbours as strangers, for
the only respect of his virtue, wisdom, and good fortune, serving
him much in the pursuit and effect of divers things by him under-
taken. I think myself much beholden to the King of England,
although his malice seeketh neither my advancement nor the
good of you, my Lord, to do me so much honour as to send me
so excellent a man to entreat of a marriage (he being old and a
mortal enemy to me and mine) with me that am such a one as every
man seeth is not desirous to couple with a man of so base quality
as he, whom you have said to be the son of a slave. But, on the other
side, I marvel that the son of Horvendile, and grandchild to King
Roderick, he that by his foolish wisdom and feigned madness sur-
mounted the forces and subtleties of Fengon, and obtained the
kingdom of his adversary, should so much abase himself, having
otherwise been very wise and well advised in all his actions, touch-
ing his bedfellow, and he that for his excellency and valour sur-
passeth human capacity, should stoop so low as to take to wife
her that, issuing from a servile race, hath only the name of a
king for her father, for that the baseness of her blood will always
cause her to show what are the virtues and noble qualities of her

278 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

ancestors. And you, my Lord," said she, "are you so ignorant
as not to know that marriage should not be measured by any
foolish opinion of an outward beauty, but rather by virtues and
antiquity of race, which maketh the wife to be honoured for her
prudence, and never degenerating from the integrity of his an-
cestors ? Exterior beauty also is nothing, where perfection of
the mind doth not accomplish and adorn that which is outwardly
seen to be in the body, and is lost by an accident and occurrence
of small moment. As also such toys have deceived many men,
and drawing them like enticing baits, have cast them headlong
into the gulf of their ruin, dishonour, and utter overthrow. It
was I to whom this advantage belonged, being a Queen, and
such a one as for nobility may compare myself with the greatest
princes in Europe, being nothing inferior unto any of them
neither for antiquity of blood, nobility of parents, nor abund-
ance of riches. I am not only a Queen, but such a one as that,
receiving whom I will for my companion, can make him bear the
title of a King, and with my body give him possession of a great
kingdom and goodly province. Think then, my Lord, how
much I account of your alliance, who being accustomed with
the sword to pursue such as durst embolden themselves to win
my love, it is to you only to whom I make a present both of
my kisses, embracings, sceptre, and crown. What man is he,
if he be not made of stone, would refuse so precious a pawn
as Hermetrude with the kingdom of Scotland? Accept, sweet
King, accept this Queen, who with so great love and amity de-
sireth your so great profit, and can give you more contentment
in one day than the Princess of England would yield you pleasure
during her life. Although she surpass me in beauty, her blood
being base, it is fitter for such a King as you are to choose Her-
metrude, less beautiful, but noble and famous, rather than the
English lady with great beauty, but issuing from an unknown
race, without any title of honour."

Now, think if the Dane hearing such forcible reasons, and un-
derstanding that by her which he half-doubted, as also moved
without choler for the treason of his father-in-law, that purposely

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 279

sent him thither to lose his life, and being welcomed, kissed, and
played withal by this Queen, young and reasonable fair, if he
were not easy enough to be converted, and like to forget the
affection of his first wife, with this to enjoy the realm of Scotland,
and so open the way to become King of all Great Britain ?

To conclude, he married her and led her with him to the King
of England's Court, which moved the King from that time for-
ward much more to seek the means to bereave him of his life.
He had surely done it, if his daughter, Hamlet's other wife, more
careful of him that had rejected her than of her father's welfare,
had not discovered the enterprise to Hamlet, saying, "I know
well, my Lord, that the allurements and persuasions of a bold
and altogether shameless woman, being more lascivious than
the chaste embracements of a lawful and modest wife, are of
more force to entice and charm the senses of young men :
but for my part I cannot take this abuse for satisfaction to
leave me in this sort, without all cause, reason, or prece-
dent fault once known in me your loyal spouse, and take
more pleasure in the alliance of her who one day will be the
cause of your ruin and overthrow. And although a just cause of
jealousy and reasonable motion of anger dispense with me at this
time to make no more account of you than you do of me, that
am not worthy to be so scornfully rejected, yet matrimonial
charity shall have more force and vigour in my heart than the
disdain which I have justly conceived to see a concubine hold
my place and a strange woman before my face enjoy the pleasures
of my husband. This injury, my Lord, although great and
offensive, which to revenge, divers ladies of great renown have
in times past sought and procured the death of their husbands,
cannot so much restrain my good-will, but that I may not choose
but advertise you what treason is devised against you, beseeching
you to stand upon your guard for that my father's only seeking
is to bereave you of your life, which if it happen, I shall not long
live after you. Many reasons induce me to love and cherish
you, and those of great consequence, but specially and above
all the rest, I am and must be careful of you, when I feel your

28o THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

unborn child ; for which respect, without so much forgetting
yourself, you ought to make more account of me than of your
concubine. Her I will love because you love her, contenting
myself that your son hateth her, in regard to the wrong she doth
to his mother. For it is impossible that any passion or trouble
of the mind whatsoever can quench those fierce passions of love
that made me yours, neither that I should forget your favours
past, when loyally you sought the love of the daughter of the
King of England. Neither is it in the power of that thief that
hath stolen your heart, nor my father's choler, to hinder me from
seeking to preserve you from the cruelty of your dissembling friend
(as heretofore, by counterfeiting the madman, you prevented the
practices and treasons of your uncle Fengon), the complot being
determined to be executed upon you and yours."

Without this advertisement the Dane had surely been slain,
and the Scots that came with him. For the King of England,
inviting his son-in-law to a banquet with the greatest courtesies
that a friend can use to him whom he loved as himself, had the
means to entrap him, and cause him dance a pitiful galliard, to
celebrate the marriage between him and his new lady. But
Hamlet went thither with armour under his clothes, and his men
in like sort, by which means he and his escaped with little hurt ;
and so after that happened the battle before spoken of, wherein
the King of England losing his life, his country was the third
time sacked by the barbarians of the islands and country of
Denmark.

CHAPTER VIII.

How Hamlet, being in Denmark, was assailed by Wiglerus, his
uncle, and after betrayed by his last wife, called Hermetrude,
and was slain; after whose death she married his enemy,
Wiglerus.

HAMLET having obtained the victory against the King of England,
and slain him, laden with great treasures and accompanied with
his two wives, set forward to sail into Denmark. But by the

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 281

way he had intelligence, that Wiglerus, his uncle, and son to
Roderick, having taking the royal treasure from his sister Geruth,
mother to Hamlet, had also seized upon the kingdom, saying
that neither Horvendile nor any of his held it but by permission,
and that it was in him, to whom the property belonged, to give
the charge thereof to whom he would. But Hamlet, not desirous
to have any quarrel with the son of him from whom his pre-
decessors had received their greatness and advancement, gave
such and so rich presents to Wiglerus, that he, being contented,
withdrew himself out of the country and territories of Geruth's
son. But within certain time after, Wiglerus, desirous to keep all
the country in subjection, enticed by the conquest of Scanie and
Sialandie, and also that Hermetrude, the wife of Hamlet, whom
he loved more than himself, had secret intelligence with him,
and had promised him marriage so he would take her out of the
hands of him that held her, sent to defy Hamlet, and proclaimed
open war against him. Hamlet, like a good and wise Prince, loving
especially the welfare of his subjects, sought by all means to avoid
that war. But again, refusing it, he perceived a great spot and
blemish in his honour ; and accepting the same, he knew it would
be the end of his days. The desire of preserving his life was on
the one side, and his honour on the other side, pricking him for-
ward ; but at the last, remembering that never any danger what-
soever had once shaken his virtues and constancy, he chose rather
the necessity of his ruin than to lose the immortal fame that
valiant and honourable men obtained in the wars. There is as
much difference between a life without honour and an honourable
death, as glory and renown is more excellent than dishonour and
evil report

But the thing that spoiled this virtuous Prince was the over-
great trust and confidence he had in his wife Hermetrude, and
the vehement love he bare unto her. He did not once repent
the wrong in that case done to his lawful spouse, and but for the
which peradventure that misfortune had never happened unto
him. He never thought that she whom he loved above all things
would have so villainously betrayed him, he not once remem-

282 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

bering his first wife's speeches, who prophesied unto him that
the pleasures he seemed to take in his other wife would in the
end be the cause of his overthrow. They had ravished him of
the best part of his senses, and quenched in him the great prudence
that made him admirable in all the countries in the ocean seas
and through all Germany. Now, the greatest grief that this King
(besotted on his wife) had, was the separation of her whom he
adored, and assuring himself of his overthrow, he was desirous
either that she might bear him company at his death, or else to
find her a husband that should love her, he being dead, as well
as ever he did. But the disloyal Queen had already provided
herself of a marriage, to put her husband out of trouble and care
for that. He perceiving him to be sad for her sake, when she
should have absented herself from him, she to blind him the
more, and to encourage him to set forward to his own destruc-
tion, promised to follow him whithersoever he went, and to take
the like fortune that befell to him, were it good or evil, and that
so she would give him cause to know how much she surpassed
the English woman in her affection towards him, saying, that
woman is accursed that feareth to follow and accompany her
husband to the death. To hear her speak, men would have said
that she had been the wife of Mithridates, or Zenobia Queen of
Palmyra, she made so great a show of love and constancy. But
by the effect, it was after easily perceived how vain the promise
of this inconstant and wavering Princess was, and how incom-
parable the life of this Scottish Queen was to the vigour of her
chastity, being a maid before she was married. For that Hamlet
had no sooner entered into the field but she found means to see
Wiglerus, and the battle began, wherein the miserable Danish
Prince was slain. But Hermetrude presently yielded herself,
with all her dead husband's treasures, into the hand of the tyrant,
who, more than content with that metamorphosis so much desired,
gave order that presently the marriage, bought with the blood and
treasure of the son of Horvendile, should be celebrated.

Thus you see that there is no promise or determination of a
woman but that a very small discommodity of fortune mollifieth

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 283

and altereth the same, and which time doth not pervert ; so that
the misfortunes subject to a constant man shake and overthrow
the natural slippery loyalty of the variable steps of women, wholly
without any faithful assurance of love or true unfeigned con-
stancy ; for, as a woman is ready to promise, so is she heavy and
slow to perform and effect that which she hath promised, as she
that is without end or limit in her desires, flattering herself in the
diversity of her wanton delights, and taking pleasure in diversity
and change of new things, which as soon she doth forget and
grow weary of. And, to conclude, such she is in all her actions ;
she is rash, covetous, and unthankful, whatsoever good or service
be done unto her. But now I perceive I err in my discourse,
vomiting such things unworthy of this sex ; but the vices of Her-
metrude have made me say more than I meant to speak, as also
the Author from whence I take this history hath almost made
me hold his course, I find so great a sweetness and liveliness in
this kind of argument : and the rather because it seemeth so much
the truer, considering the miserable success of poor King Hamlet
Such was the end of Hamlet, son of Horvendile, Prince of
Jutie, to whom, if his fortune had been equal with his inward
and natural gifts, I know not which of the ancient Grecians and
Romans had been able to have compared with him for virtue and
excellency. But hard fortune followed him in all his actions,
and yet he vanquishing the malice of his time, with the vigour of
constancy, hath left us a notable example of haughty courage*
worthy of a great Prince, arming himself with hope in things that
were wholly without any colour or show thereof, and in all his
honourable actions made himself worthy of perpetual memory, if
one only spot had not blemished and darkened a good part of his
praises. For that the greatest victory that a man can obtain is to
make himself victorious and lord over his own affections, and
that restraineth the unbridled desires of his concupiscence. For
if a man be never so princely, valiant, and wise, if the desires and
enticements of his flesh prevail and have the upper hand, he will
abase his credit, and, gazing after strange beauties, become a fool,
and, as it were, incensed, dote on the presence of women. This

284 THE HISTORY OF HAMLET.

fault was in the great Hercules, Samson, and the wisest man
that ever lived upon the earth, following this train, therein im-
paired his wit; and the most noble, wise, valiant, and discreet
personages of our time, following the same course, have left us
many notable examples of their worthy and notable virtues.

But I beseech you that shall read this "history not to resemble
the spider that feedeth of the corruption that she findeth in
the flowers and fruits that are in the gardens, whereas the bee
gathereth her honey out of the best and fairest flowers she can
find. For a man that is well brought up should read the lives of
whoremongers, drunkards, incestuous, violent, and bloody persons,
not to follow their steps, and so to defile himself with such un-
cleanness, but to shun paliardise,1 abstain the superfluities and
drunkenness in banquets, and follow the modesty, courtesy, and
continency that recommendeth Hamlet in this discourse, who,
while other made good cheer, continued sober ; and where all men
sought as much as they could to gather together riches and trea-
sure, he, simply accounting riches nothing comparable to honour,
sought to gather a multitude of virtues, that might make him
equal to those that by them were esteemed as gods, having not
as then received the light of the Gospel, that men might see
among the barbarians and them that were far from the knowledge
of one only God, that nature was provoked to follow that which
is good and those forward to embrace virtue, for that there was
never any nation, how rude or barbarous soever, that took not
some pleasure to do that which seemed good, thereby to win
praise and commendations, which we have said to be the reward
of virtue and good life. I delight to speak of these strange
histories, and of people that were unchristened, that the virtue
of the rude people may give more splendour to our nation,
who, seeing them so complete, wise, prudent, and well advised in
their actions, might strive not only to follow — imitation being a
small matter — but to surmount them, as our religion surpasseth
their superstition, and our age more purged, subtle, and gallant
than the season wherein they lived and made their virtues known.

1 Paliardise, faillardise, immodesty.

THE FAMOUS HISTORIE OF
FRYER BACON.

v,

THE FAMOUS HISTORIE OF FRYER
BACON.

Of the Parents and Birth of Fryer Bacon, and how he addicted
himselfe to Learning.

gn mosf men's opinions he was borne in the west; part of
England and was sonne to a wealthy farmer, who put him to
schoole to the parson of the towne where hee was borne : not
with intent that he should turne fryer (as he did), but to get so
much understanding, that he might manage the better that wealth
hee was to leave him. But young Bacon tooke his learning so
fast, that the priest could not teach him any more, which made
him desire his master that he would speake to his father to put
him to Oxford, that he might not lose that little learning that hee
had gained : his master was very willing so to doe : and one day
meeting his father, told him, that he had received a great blessing
of God, in that he had given him so wise and hopefull a child, as
his sonne Roger Bacon was (for so was he named), and wished
him withall to doe his duty, and to bring up so his child, that hee
might shew his thankfulnesse to God, which could not better be
done then in making of him a scholler; for he found by his
sodaine taking of his learning, that hee was a child likely to prove
a very great clerke : hereat old Bacon was not well pleased (for
he desired to bring him up to plough and to the cart, as hee him-
selfe was brought), yet he for reverence sake to the priest, shewed
not his anger, but kindly thanked him for his paines and counsell,
yet desired him not to speake any more concerning that matter ;

288 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

for hee knew best what best pleased himselfe, and that he would
doe : so broke they off their talke, and parted.

So soone as the old man came home, he called to his sonne for
his bookes, which when he had, he lock'd them up, and gave the
boy a cart whip in the place of them, saying to him : Boy, I will
have you no priest, you shall not be better learned than I, you can
tell now by the almanack when it is best sowing wheat, when
barly, pease, and beane : and when the best libbing l is, when to
sell graine and cattell I will teach thee ; for I have all faires and
markets as perfit in my memory, as Sir John our priest has masse
without booke : take mee this whip, I will teach thee the use of
it, it will be more profitable to thee then this harsh Latin : make
no reply, but follow my counsell, or else by the masse thou shalt
feele the smart hand of my anger. Young Bacon thought this
but hard dealing, yet would he not reply, but within sixe or eight
dayes he gave his father the slip, and went to a cloyster some
twenty miles off, where he was entertained, and so continued his
learning, and in small time came to be so famous, that he was sent
for to the University of Oxford, where he long time studied, and
grew so excellent in the studies of art and nature, that not England
onely, but all Christendome admired him.

How the king sent for Fryer Bacon, and of the wonderfull
things he shewed the king and queene.

THE king being in Oxfordshire, at a Noblemans house, was very
desirous to see this famous fryer, for he had heard many times
of his wondrous things that he had done by his art : therefore
hee sent one for him to desire him to come to the court. Fryer
Bacon kindly thanked the king by the messenger, and said, that
he was at the kings service, and would suddenly attend him : but
sir, saith he (to the gentleman), I pray make you haste, or else
I shall be two houres before you at the court. For all your
learning (answered the gentleman) I can hardly beleeve this,
for schollers, old-men and travellers, may lye by authority. To

1 Libbing, gelding (Dutch, lubberi).

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 289

strengthen your beliefe (said Fryer Bacon) I could presently
shew you the last wench that you kissed, but I will not at this
time. One is as true as the other (said the gentleman) and I
would laugh to see either. You shall see them both within these
foure houres, quoth the fryer, and therefore make what haste
you can. I will prevent that by my speed (said the gentleman),
and with that rid his way : but he rode out of his way, as it
should seem ; for he had but five miles to ride, and yet was he
better than three houres a riding them ; so that Fryer Bacon
by his art was with the king before he came.

The king kindly welcommed him, and said that hee long time
had desired to see him ; for he had as yet not heard of his life.
Fryer Bacon answered him that fame had belide him, and given
him that report that his poore studies had never deserved, for hee
beleeved that art had many sonnes more excellent then himselfe
was. The king commended him for his modesty, and told him,
that nothing could become a wise man lesse than boasting : but
yet withall he requested him now to be no niggard of his know-
ledge, but to shew his queene and him some of his skill. I
were worthy of neither art or knowledge (quod Fryer Bacon),
should I deny your maiestie this small request : I pray seat
yourselves, and you shall see presently what my poore skill can
performe : the king, queene, and nobles sate them all down.
They having so done, the fryer waved Ins wand, and presently
was heard such excellent musicke that they were all amazed,
for they all said they had never heard the like. This is, said
the fryer, to delight the sense of hearing, I will delight all your
other sences ere you depart hence : so waving his wand againe,
there was lowder musicke heard, and presently five dancers
entred, the first like a court-laundresse, the second like a foot-
man, the third like an usurer, the fourth like a prodigall, the
fift like a foole: these did divers excellent changes, so that
they gave content to all the beholders, and having done their
dance, they all vanished away in their order as they came in.
Thus feasted he two of their sences ; then waved he his wand
againe, and there was another kind of musicke heard, and whilest

290 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

it was playing, there was sodainly before them a table richly
covered with all sorts of delicates : then desired he the king and
queene to taste of some certaine rare fruits that were on the
table, which they and the nobles there present did, and were
very highly pleased with the taste; they being satisfied, all
vanished away on the sodaine. Then waved he his wand againe,
and sodainly there was such a smell, as if all the rich perfumes
in the whole world had bin there prepared in the best manner
that art could set them out : whilst hee feasted thus their smell-
ing, he waved his wand againe, and there came divers nations in
sundry habits (as Russians, Polanders, Indians, Armenians), all
bringing sundry kinds of furres, such as their countries yeelded :
all which they presented to the king and queene : these furres
were so soft in the touch, that they highly pleased all those that
handled them, then after some odde fantasticke dances (after
their countrey manner) they vanished away : then asked Fryer
Bacon the king's majesty, if that hee desired any more of his
skill ? the king answered that hee was fully satisfied for that time,
and that hee onely now thought of something that hee might
bestow on him, that might partly satisfie the kindnesse that hee
had received. Fryer Bacon said, that hee desired nothing so
much as his maiesties love, and if that he might be assured of
that, hee would thinke himselfe happy in it : for that (said the
king) be thou ever sure of it, in token of which receive this Jewell,
and withall gave him a costly Jewell from his necke. The fryer
did with great reverence thanke his maiestie, and said : as your
maiesties vassall you shall ever finde me ready to do you service,
your time of neede shall finde it both beneficiall and delightfull.
But amongst all these gentlemen, I see not the man that your
grace did send for me by, sure he hath lost his way, or else met
with some sport that detaines him so long. I promised to be
here before him, and all this noble assembly can witnesse I am
as good as my word : I heare him comming : with that entered the
gentleman all bedurted (for he had rid through ditches, quag-
mires, plashes, and waters, that hee was in a most pittifull case)
he seeing the fryer there looked full angerly, and bid a plague on

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 5291

all his devils, for they had led him out of his way, and almost
drowned him. Be not angry sir (said Fryer Bacon) here is an
old friend of yours that hath more cause : for she hath tarried
these three houres for you (with that hee pulled up the hangings,
and behinde them stood a kitchen-mayde with a basting-ladle in
her hand) now am I as good as my word with you : for I promised
to helpe you to your sweetheart, how do you like this? So
ill, answered the gentleman, that I will be revenged of you.
Threaten not (said Fryer Bacon) least I do you more shame, and
doe you take heed how you give schollers the lye againe: but
because I know not how well you are stored with money at this
time, I will bear her charges home : with that she vanished away :
the king, queene, and all the company laughed to see with what
shame this gentleman indured the sight of his greasie sweetheart :
but the gentleman went away discontented. This done Fryer
Bacon tooke his leave of the King and Queene, and received
from them divers gifts (as well as thankes) for his art he shewed
them.

How Fryer Bacon deceived his Man^ that would fast for his
conscience sake.

FRYER BACON had one onely man to attend on him and he too
was none of the wisest, for he kept him in charity, more then for
any service he had of him. This man of his (named Miles) never
could indure to fast as other religious persons did, for alwayes hee
had in one corner, or another, flesh which hee would eate when
his maister eat bread only, or else did fast and abstaine from all
things. Fryer Bacon seeing this, thought at one time or other
to be even with him, which he did one Fryday in this manner.
Miles on the Thursday night had provided a great blacke-pudding
for his Frydayes fast : this pudding put he in his pocket (thinking
belike to heate it so, for his maister had no fire on those dayes)
on the next day, who was so demure as Miles, hee looked as
though hee would not have eat any thing: when his maister
offerd him some bread, hee refused it, saying his sinnes deserved

292 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

a greater penance then one dayes fast in a whole weeke: his
maister commended him for it, and bid him take heed that he
did not dissemble : for if he did, it would at last be knowne ;
then were I worse then a Turke said Miles: so went he forth
as if he would have gone to pray privately, but it was for nothing
but to prey upon his blacke pudding ; that pulled he out, (for it
was halfe roasted with the heate) and fell to it lustily ; but he
was deceived, for having put one end in his mouth, he could
neither get it out againe nor bite it off, so that hee stamped
out for helpe : his maister hearing him, came ; and finding him
in that manner, tooke hold of the other end of the pudding,
and led him to the hall, and shewed him to all the schollers,
saying: see here my good friends and fellow students what a
devout man my servant Miles is, he loveth not to break a fast
day, witnesse this pudding that his conscience will not let him
swallow : I will have him to be an example for you all, then tyed
hee him to a window by the end of the pudding, where poore
Miles stood like a beare tyed by the nose to a stake, and in-
dured many floutes and mockes : at night his maister released
him from his penance ; Miles was glad of it, and did vow never
to breake more fast dayes whilst that he lived.

How Fryer Bacon saved a Gentleman that had given himself e
to the Devill.

IN Oxfordshire there lived a gentleman, that had through his
riotous expences wasted a faire inheritance that was left him by
his father : after which hee grew so poore, that he had not wher-
with to buy himselfe so much bread as would mainteine his miser-
able life : the memory of his former state that hee had lived in,
and the present want that he now sustained, made him to grow
desperate and regardlesse both of his soule and bodies estate:
which gave the devill occasion to worke upon his weaknesse in
this maner following.

On a time, hee being alone full of griefe and care, (griefe
for his folies past, and care how to get a poore living for the

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 293

remainder of his dayes) the Devill came to him and asked him
what hee wanted (hee came not in a shape terrible, but like an
old penny-father). This gentleman was amazed at his sodaine
presence, but hearing him demand of his wants, hee tooke to him
courage and said : I want all things, I want money to buy my
apparrell, money to buy mee meat, money to redeeme my land
and money to pay my debts : can or will you helpe mee in this
misery? I will, answered the Devill, on some conditions helpe
you to money for to supply all these wants and that sodainly.
On any condition, said the Gentleman, helpe mee, and I sweare
for to performe them : I take no oathes (answered the Devill) I
must have bonds, if you will doe so, meet mee by the woods side
to morrow morning, and there I will have the moneys ready : I
will, said the gentleman (for hee poore man was glad of it on any
conditions, as he said before). The next day hee went to the
wood where the Devill had promised to meet him : long had he
not been there, but he beheld the Devil comming, and after him
two other like servingmen with bagges of money : this reioyced
the poore gentlemans heart to thinke that hee should once again
live like a man. The Devill comming to him said : sonne I will
performe my promise unto you if that you will seale to the condi-
tions that I have here already drawne : willingly, said the gentle-
man, I will, I pray read them. The Devill read them to this effect :
that he lent him so much money as he should have need of, to
be imployed to these uses following : First, to redeeme his mort-
gaged land : next to pay his debts : lastly, to buy him such neces-
saries as hee wanted : this to be lent on this condition, that so
soone as he had paid all debts, that he should be at the lenders
disposing, and his without any delay, freely to yeeld himselfe to
him upon the first demand of the aforesaid lender. To this the
gentleman sealed, and had the money carried to his chamber,
with which money hee in short time redeemed his land, and
bought such things as he needed, and likewise payed all his
debts, so that there was not any man that could aske him one
penny.

Thus lived this gentleman once againe in great credit, and grew

294 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

so great a husband that he increased his estate, and was richer
then ever his father before him was : but long did this joy of his
not continue, for one day hee being in his studie the Devil
appeared unto him, and did tell him that now his land was
redeemed, and his debts paid, and therefore the time was come
that hee must yeeld himselfe to his mercy, as hee was bound by
bond. This troubled the gentleman to heare, but more to thinke
how that he must become a slave to a stranger that hee did not
know (for hee knew not as yet that he was the Devill) but being
urged to answer for himselfe (by the devill) hee said that hee had
not as yet paid all his debts, and therefore as yet hee was not
liable to the bonds strait conditions. At this the Devill seemed
angry and with a fearefull noyse transfformed himselfe to an ugly
shape, saying, alas poore wretch, these are poore excuses that
thou framest, I know them all to be false, and so will prove
them to thy face to morrow morning, till when I leave thee to
despaire : So with great noyse he went his way, leaving the
gentleman halfe dead with feare.

When he was gone, the gentleman reviving bethought himselfe
in what a miserable state he was now in, then wished he that
he had lived and died poorely, then cursed he all his ambitious
thoughts, that led him first to desire againe that wealth which he
had so vainly by his riot lost : then would hee curse his prodigall
expences that were the originall of all his misery : thus was he
tormented a long time in his minde, at last he fully resolved to
end his wretched life by some violent death, and to that end he
went forth thinking to kill himselfe, which he had done, had it
not beene for the Fryer : for as he was falling upon his sword,
Fryer Bacon came by and called to him to hold, which he did.
Fryer Bacon demanded of him the cause why he was so des-
perate that he would run headlong to hell ? O sir, said he, the
cause is great, and the relation is so terrible to me, that I would
intreat you not to trouble me any more, but to leave me to my
owne will ; his answer rilled the Fryer with amazement and pitty
both at once, which made him to urge him in this manner. Sir,
should I leave you to this wilfull damnation, I were unfit ever

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 295

hereafter to weare or touch any robe that belongeth unto the
holy order, whereof I am a brother : you know (I doubt not)
that there is given power to the church to absolve penitent
sinners, let not your wilfulnesse take away from you that benefit
which you may receive by it : freely confesse your selfe (I pray
you) unto me, and doubt not but I shall give your tioubled con-
science ease : Father (said this Gentleman) I know all that you
have spoken is truth, and I have many times received comfort
from the mother church, (I dare not say our, for I feare that
shee will never receive me for a childe) I have no part in her
benediction, yet since you request so earnestly the cause, I will
tell you, heare it and tremble. Know then that I have given my
selfe to the Devill for a little wealth, and he to morrow in this
wood must have me : now have you my griefe, but I know not
how to get comfort. This is strange (quoth Fryer Bacon,) yet
be of good comfort, penitentiall teares may doe much, which see
you doe not spare ; soone I will visit you at your house, and give
you that comfort (I hope) that will beget you againe to good-
nesse : the Gentleman with these words was somewhat com-
forted and returned home. At night Fryer Bacon came to him,
and found him full of teares for his hay nous offences, for these
teares he gave him hope of pardon, demanded further what
conditions hee had made with the Devill ; the gentleman told
him, how that he had promised himselfe to him so soone as hee
had paid all his debts : which he now had done, for he owed
not one peny to any man living. Well said Fryer Bacon, con-
tinue thy sorrow for thy sinnes, and to-morrow meete him with-
out feare, and be thou content to stand to the next mans iudge-
ment tbat"shall come, that way, whether thou doest belong to
the Devill or no : feare not, but do so, and be thou assured that
I will be he that shall come by, and will give such Judgement
on. thy side, that thou shalt be free from him : with that Fryer
Bacon went home, and the gentleman went to his prayers.

In the morning the gentleman (after that hee had blessed him-
selfe) went to the wood where he found the Devill ready for him.
So soone as he came neere, the Devill said, Now, deceiver, are you

296 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

come : now shall thou see that I can and will prove that thou
hast paid all thy debts, and therefore thy soule belongeth to me.
Thou art a deceiver (said the gentleman) and gavest me money
to cheat me of my soule, for else why wilt thou be thy own
judge ? let me have some other to iudge between us. Content,
said the Devill, take whom thou wilt. Then I will have (said the
gentleman) the next man that commeth this way. Hereto the
Devill agreed. No sooner were these words ended, but Fryer
Bacon came by, to whom this gentleman speake, and requested,
that he would be iudge in a waighty matter betweene them two :
the Fryer said, he was content, so both parties were agreed : the
Devill said they were, and told Fryer Bacon how the case stood
between them in this manner.

Know Fryer, that I seeing this prodigall like to starve for want
of food, lent him money, not onely to buy him victuals, but also
to redeeme his lands and pay his debts, conditionarily that so
soone as his debts were paid, that hee should give himselfe freely
to mee, to this, here is his hand (shewing him the bond) now my
time is expired, for all his debts are paid, which he cannot denie.
This case is plaine, if it be so that his debts are paid : his silence
confirmes it, said the Divell, therefore give him a iust sentence. I
will, said Fryer Bacon : but first tell me (speaking to the gentle-
man) didst thou never yet give the Devill any of his mony backe,
nor requite him any wayes. Never had hee any thing of me as
yet (answered the gentleman). Then never let him have any thing
of thee and thou art free. Deceiver of mankind, said he (speaking
to the Devill) it was thy bargaine, never to meddle with him so
long as hee was indebted to any, now how canst thou demand
of him any thing, when he is indebted for all that hee hath to
thee, when hee payeth thee thy money, then take him as thy
due ; till then thou hast nothing to doe with him : and so I charge
thee to be gone. At this, the Devill vanished with great horror,
but Fryer Bacon comforted the gentleman, and sent him home
with a quiet conscience, bidding him never to pay the Devils
money backe as he tendred his owne safety: which he promised
for to observe.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 297

How Fryer Bacon made a Brasen head to speake, by the which hee
would have walled England about with Brasse.

FRYER BACON reading one day of the many conquests of England,
bethought himselfe how he might keepe it hereafter from the like
conquests, and so make himselfe famous hereafter to all posteri-
ties. This (after great study) hee found could be no way so well
done as one ; which was to make a head of brasse, and if he
could make this head to speake (and heare it when it speakes)
then might hee be able to wall all England about with brasse.
To this purpose hee got one Fryer Bungey to assist him, who
was a great scholler and a magician, (but not to bee compared to
Fryer Bacon) these two with great study and paines so framed a
head of brasse, that in the inward parts thereof there was all things
like as in a naturall mans head : this being done, they were as farre
from perfectione of the worke as they were before, for they knew
not how to give those parts that they had made motion, without
which it was impossible that it should speake : many bookes they
read, but yet could not finde out any hope of what they sought,
that at the last they concluded to raise a spirit, and to know of
him that which they could not attaine to by their owne studies.
To do this they prepared all things ready and went one evening to
a wood thereby, and after many ceremonies used, they spake the
words of conjuration, which the Devill straight obeyed and ap-
r^~ peared unto them, asking what they would ? Know, said Fryer
Bacon, that wee have made an artificiall head of brasse, which we
would have to speake, to the furtherance of which wee have raised
thee, and being raised, we will here keepe thee, unlesse thou tell
to us the way and manner how to make this head to speake. The
Devill told him that he had not that power of himselfe. Beginner
of lyes (said Fryer Bacon) I know that thou dost dissemble, and
therefore tell it us quickly, or else wee will here bind the to re-
maine during our pleasures. At these thretnings the Devill
consented to doe it, and told them, that with a continuel fume of
the six hotest simples it should have motion, and in one month
space speak, the Time of the moneth or day hee knew not : also

298 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

hee told them, that if they heard it not before it had done speak-
ing, all their labour should be lost : they being satisfied, licensed
the spirit for to depart.

Then went these two learned fryers home againe, and prepared
the simples ready, and made the fume, and with continuall watch-
ing attended when this Brasen head would speake. Thus watched
they for three weekes without any rest, so that they were so weary
and sleepy, that they could not any longer refraine from rest.
Then called Fryer Bacon his man Miles, and told him, that it was
not unknown to him what paines Fryer Bungy and himselfe had
taken for three weekes space, onely to make, and to heare the
Brasen-head speake, which if they did not, then had they lost all
their labour, and all England had a great losse thereby : therefore
hee intreated Miles that he would watch whilst that they slept,
and call them if the head speake. Feare not, good master (said
Miles) I will not sleepe, but harken and attend upon the head,
and if it doe chance to speake, I will call you : therefore I pray
take you both your rests and let mee alone for watching this head.
After Fryer Bacon had given him a great charge the second time :
Fryer Bungy and he went to sleepe, and Miles, alone to watch
the brasen head : Miles, to keepe him from sleeping, got a tabor
and pipe, and being merry disposed, sung this song to a Northren

TUNE OF CAM'ST THOU NOT FROM NEW-CASTLE.

To couple is a custome,

all things thereto agree :
Why should not I then love ?

since love to all is free.

But He have one that's pretty,

her cheekes of scarlet die,
For to breed my delight,

when that I am her by.

Though vertue be a dowry,

yet He chuse money store :
If my love prove untrue,

with that I can get more.

. EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 299

The faire is oft unconstant,

the blacke is often proud.
He chuse a lovely browne,

come fidler scrape thy crowd.

Come fidler scrape thy crowd,

for Peggie the brown is she
Must be my Bride, God guide

that Peggie and I agree.

With his owne musicke and such songs as these spent he his
time, and kept from sleeping at last. After some noyse the head
spake these two words, TIME is. Miles hearing it to speake no more,
thought his master would be angry if hee waked him for that, and
therefore he let them both sleepe, and began to mocke the head in
this manner : Thou brazen-faced head, hath my master tooke all
this paines about thee, and now dost thou requite him with two
words, TIME is : had hee watched with a lawyer as long as he
hath watched with thee, he would have given him more, and
better words then thou hast yet, if thou canst speake no wiser,
they shal sleepe till doomes day for me : TIME is : I know TIME
is, and that you shall heare goodman Brazenface.

TO THE TUNE OF DAINTIE COME THOU TO ME.

Time is for some to plant,
Time is for some to sowe ;
Time is for some to graft
The home as some doe know.

Time is for some to eate,
Time is for some to sleepe,
Time is for some to laugh,
Time is for some to weepe.

Time is for some to sing,
Time is for some to pray,
Time is for some to creepe,
That have drunke all the day.

Do you tell us copper-nose, when TIME is, I hope we Schollers
know our times, when to drinke drunke, when to kiss our hostes,

300 HIST OKIE OF FRYER BACON.

when to goe on her score, and when to pay it, that time comes
seldome. After halfe an houre had passed, the head did speake
againe, two wordes, which were these: TIME WAS. Miles re-
spected these words as little as he did the former, and would not
wake them, but still scoffed at the brazen head, that it had learned
no better words, and have such a tutor as his master, and in
scorne of it sung this song.

TO THE TUNE OF A RICH MERCHANT MAN.

Time was when thou a kettle

wert fill'd with better matter .
But Fryer Bacon did thee spoyle,

when he thy sides did batter.

Time was when conscience dwelled

with men of occupation :
Time was when Lawyers did not thrive,

so well by mens vexation.

Time was when kings and beggers

of one poor stuffe had being :
Time was when office kept no knaves :

that time it was worth seeing.

Time was a bowle of water,

did give the face reflection ;
Time was when women knew no paint,

which now they call complexion.

TIME WAS : I know that brazen-face, without your telling, I
know Time was, and I know what things there was when Time
was, and if you speake no wiser, no master shall be waked for
mee. Thus Miles talked and sung till another halfe houre was
gone, then the brazen head spake again these words; TIME is
PAST : and therewith fell downe, and presently followed a terrible
noyse, with strange flashes of fire, so that Miles was halfe dead
with feare : at this noyse the two Fryers awaked, and wondred to
see the whole roome so full of smoake, but that being vanished
they might perceive the brazen head broken and lying on the
ground : at this sight they grieved, and called Miles to know how

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 301

this came. Miles halfe dead with feare, said that it fell downe
of itselfe, and that with the noyse and fire that followed he was
almost frighted out of his wits : Fryer Bacon asked him if hee
did not speake ? yes (quoth Miles) it spake, but to no purpose,
He have a parret speake better in that time that you have been
teaching this brazen head. Out on thee villaine (said Fryer
Bacon) thou hast undone us both, hadst thou but called us when
it did speake, all England had been walled round about with brass,
to its glory, and our eternal fames : what were the wordes it spake?
very few (said Miles) and those were none of the wisest that I
have heard neither : first he said, TIME is. Hadst thou call'd us
then (said Fryer Bacon) we had been made for ever. Then (said
Miles) half an hour after it spake againe and said, TIME WAS.
And wouldst thou not call us then ? (said Bungey) Alas (said
Miles) I thought he would have told me some long tale, and then
I purposed to have called you : then half an houre after he cried,
TIME is PAST, and made such a noyse, that hee hath waked you
himselfe mee thinkes. At this Fryer Bacon was in such a rage
that hee would have beaten his man, but he was restrained by
Bungey: but neverthelesse for his punishment, he with his art
strucke him dumbe for one whole months space, Thus the greate
worke of these learned Fryers was overthrown (to their great
griefes) by this simple fellow.

How Fryer Bacon by his art took a towne, when the King had lyen
before it three months^ without doing to it any hurt.

IN those times when Fryer Bacon did all his strange trickes, the
Kings of England had a great part of France, which they held a
long time, till civill warres at home in this land made them to
lose it : it did chance that the King of England (for some cause
best knowne to himselfe) went into France with a great armie,
where after many victories, he did beseige a strong towne and lay
before it full three moneths, without doing to the towne any great
damage, but rather received the hurt himselfe. This did so
vexe the King, that he sought to take it in any way, either by

302 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

policy or strength : to this intent hee made proclamation, that
whosoever could deliver this towne into his hand, hee should
have for his paines ten thousand crownes truely paid. This was
proclaimed, but there was none found that would undertake it.
At length the newes did come into England of this great reward
that was promised. Fryer Bacon hearing of it, went into France,
and being admitted to the kings presence, hee thus spake unto
him : Your maiestie I am sure hath not quite forgot your poore
subject Bacon, the love that you shewed to mee being last in
your presence, hath drawn mee for to leave my countrey, and
my studies, to doe your maiestis service : I beseech your grace, to
command mee so farre as my poore art or life may doe you
pleasure. The king thanked him for his love, but told him, that
hee had now more need of armes than art, and wanted brave
souldiers more than learned schollers. Fryer Bacon answered,
Your grace saith well ; but let mee (under correction) tell you,
that art oftentimes doth those things that are impossible to armes,
which I will make good in some few examples. I will speak
onely of things performed by art and nature, wherein shall be
nothing magical : and first by the figuration of art, there may be
made instruments of navigation without men to rowe in them, as
great ships to brooke the sea, only with one man to steere them,
and they shall sayle far more swiftly than if they were full of men :
also chariots that shall move with an unspeakable force, without
any living creature to stirre them. Likewise, an instrument may be
made to fly withall, if one sit in the midst of the instrument, and
doe turne an engine, by which the wings being artificially com-
posed, may beat ayre after the manner of a flying bird. By an
instrument of three fingers high, and three fingers broad, a man
may rid himself and others from all imprisonment : yea, such an
instrument may easily be made, whereby a man may violently
draw unto him a thousand men, will they, nill they, or any other
thing. By art also an instrument may be made, wherewith men
may walke in the bottome of the sea or rivers without bodily
danger : this Alexander the Great used (as the ethnick philosopher
reporteth) to the end he might behold the secrets of the seas.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 303

But physicall figurations are farre more strange : for by that may
be framed perspects and looking-glasses, that one thing shall
appeare to be many, as one man shall appeare to be a whole
army, and one sunne or moone shall seem divers. Also perspects
may be so framed, that things farre off shall seem most nigh unto
us : with one of these did lulius Caesar from the sea coasts in
France marke and observe the situation of the castles in England.
Bodies may also be so framed that the greatest things shall
appeare to be the least, the highest lowest, the most secret to
bee the most manifest, and in such like sort the contrary. Thus
did Socrates perceive, that the dragon which did destroy the citie
and countrey adioyning, with his noisome breath, and contagious
influence, did lurke in the dennes between the mountaines : and
thus may all things that are done in cities or armies be discovered
by the enemies. Againe, in such wise may bodies be framed,
that venemous and infectious influences may be brought whither
a man will: in this did Aristotle instruct Alexander; through
which instruction the poyson of a basiliske, being lift up upon
the wall of a citie, the poison was convayd into the citie, to the
destruction thereof: also perspects may be made to deceive the
sight, as to make a man beleeve that hee seeth great store of
riches, when that there is not any. But it appertained to a
higher power of figuration, that beams should be brought and
assembled by divers flexions and reflexions in any distance that
we will, to burne any thing that is opposite unto it, as it is
witnessed by those perspects or glasses that burne before and
behinde; but the greatest and chiefest of all figurations and
things figured, is to describe the heavenly bodies, according to
their length and breadth in a corporall figure, wherein they may
corporally move with a daily motion. These things are worth a
kingdom to a wise man. These may surTise, my royall lord, to
shew what art can doe : and these, with many things more, as
strange, I am able by art to performs Then take no thought for
winning this towne, for by my art you shall (ere many dayes be
past) have your desire.

The king all this while heard him with admiration : but hearing

304 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

him now, that hee would undertake to win the towne, hee burst
out in these speeches : most learned Bacon, doe but what thou
hast said, and I will give thee what thou most desirest, either
wealth, or honour, choose which thou wilt, and I will be as ready
to performe, as I have been to promise.

Your maiesties love is all that I seeke (said the fryer) let mee
have that, and I have honour enough, for wealth, I have content,
the wise should seek no more : but to the purpose. Let your pioniers
raise up a mount so high, (or rather higher) than the wall, and
then shall you see some probability of that which I have promised.

This mount in two days was raised : then Fryer Bacon went
with the king to the top of it, and did with a perspect shew to
him the towne, as plainly as if hee had beene in it : at this the
king did wonder, but Fryer Bacon told him, that he should wonder
more, ere next day noone : against which time, he desired him
to have his whole army in readinesse, for to scale the wall upon
a signal given by him, from the mount. This the king promised
to doe, and so returned to his tent full of joy, that he should gain
this strong towne. In the morning Fryer Bacon went up to the
mount and set his glasses, and other instruments up : in the
meane time the king ordered his army, and stood in a readinesse
for to give the assaults : when the signal was given, which was
the waving of a flagge : ere nine of the clocke Fryer Bacon had
burnt the state-house of the towne, with other houses only by his
mathematicall glasses, which made the whole towne in an uprore,
for none did know how it came : whilest that they were quenching
of the same Fryer Bacon did wave his flagge : upon which signall
given, the king set upon the towne, and tooke it with little or no
resistance. Thus through the art of this learned man the king
got this strong towne, which hee could not doe with all his men
without Fryer Bacons helpe.

How Fryer Bacon over-came the German coniurer Vandermast,

and made a spirit of his owne carry him into Germany.
THE king of England after hee had taken the town shewed great
mercy to the inhabitants, giving some of them their lives freely,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 305

and others he set at liberty for their gold : the towne hee kept
at his owne, and swore the chiefe citizens to be his true subiects.
Presently after the king of France sent an ambassadour to the
king of England for to intreat a peace betweene them. This
ambassadour being come to the king, he feasted him (as it is
the manner of princes to doe) and with the best sports as he had
then, welcomed him. The ambassadour seeing the king of Eng-
land so free in his love, desired likewise to give him some taste
of his good liking, and to that intent sent for one of his fellowes
(being a Germane, and named Vandermast) a famous coniuror,
who being come, hee told the king, that since his grace had been
so bountiful in his love to him, he would shew him (by a servant
of his) such wonderful! things that his grace had never scene the
like before. The king demanded of him of what nature those
things were that hee would doe : the ambassadour answered that
they were things done by the art of magicke. The king hearing
of this, sent straight for Fryer Bacon, who presently came, and
brought Fryer Bungey with him.

When the banquet was done, Vandermast did aske the king,
if he desired to see the spirit of any man deceased : and if that
hee did, hee would raise him in such manner and fashion as he
was in when that he lived. The king told him, that above all
men he desired to see Pompey the Great, who could abide no
equall. Vandermast by his art raised him, armed in such manner
as hee was when he was slaine at the battell of Pharsalia ; at this
they were all highly contented. Fryer Bacon presently raised
the ghost of lulius Caesar, who could abide no superiour, and
had slaine this Pompey at the battell of Pharsalia : at the sight
of him they were all amazed, but the king who sent for Bacon :
and Vandermast said that there was :some man of art in that
presence, whom he desired to see. Fryer Bacon then shewed
himselfe, saying ; it was I Vandermast, that raised Caesar, partly
to give content to this royall presence, but chiefely for to con-
quer thy Pompey, as he did once before, at that great battell of
Pharsalia, which he now againe shall doe. Then presently began
a fight between Caesar and Pompey, which continued a good

u

3o6 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

space, to the content of all, except Vandermast. At last Pompey
was overcome and slaine by Cresar : then vanished they both
away.

My lord ambassadour (said the king) me thinks that my English-
man has put down your German : hath he no better cunning than
this? Yes, answered Vandermast, your grace shall see me put
downe your Englishman ere that you goe from hence ; and there-
fore Fryer prepare thy selfe with thy best of art to withstand me.
Alas, said Fryer Bacon, it is a little thing will serve to resist thee
in this kind. I have here one that is my inferior (shewing him
Fryer Bungey) try thy art with him ; and if thou doe put him to
the worst, then will I deale with thee, and not till then.

Fryer Bungey then began to shew his art : and after some
turning and looking in his booke, he brought up among them
the Hesperian Tree, which did beare golden apples : these apples
were kept by a waking dragon, that lay under the tree : He having
done this, bid Vandermast finde one that durst gather the fruit.
Then Vandermast did raise the ghost of Hercules in his habit
that he wore when that he was living, and with his club on his
shoulder : Here is one, said Vandermast, that shall gather fruit
from this tree : this is Hercules, that in his life time gathered of
this fruit, and made the dragon crouch : and now againe shall
hee gather it in spight of all opposition. As Hercules was going
to plucke the fruit, Fryer Bacon held up his wand, at which
Hercules stayed and seemed fearful. Vandermast bid him for
to gather of the fruit, or else he would torment him. Hercules
was more fearfull, and said, I cannot, nor I dare not : for great
Bacon stands, whose charms are farre more powerfull than thine,
I must obey him Vandermast. Hereat Vandermast curst Her-
cules, and threatned him : But Fryer Bacon laughed, and bid
not to chafe himself ere that his journey was ended : for seeing
(said he) that Hercules will doe nothing at your command, I will
have him doe you some service at mine : with that he bid Hercules
carry him home into Germany. The Devill obeyed him, and tooke
Vandermast on his backe, and went away with him in all their
sights. Hold Fryer, cried the ambassadour, I will not loose Van-

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 307

dermast for half my land. Content yourself my lord, answered
Fryer Bacon, I have but sent him home to see his wife, and ere
long he may returne. The king of England thanked Fryer Bacon,
and forced some gifts on him for his service that he had done for
him : for Fryer Bacon did so little respect money, that he never
would take any of the king.

How Fryer Bacon through his wisdom saved the endangered
lives of three Brethren.

THE peace being concluded betweene the King of England and
the King of France, the King of England came againe into his
country of England, where he was received very ioyfully of all
his subjects : But in his absence had happened a discord be-
tweene three brethren, the like hath not beene often heard.
This it was : A rich gentleman of England dyed, and left be-
hind him three sonnes. Now for some reason (which was best
known to himselfe) he appointed none of them by name to be
his heyre, but spake to them all after this manner : You are all
my sonnes, and I love you all as a father should doe, all alike,
not one better than the other ; and cause I would alwayes doe
rightly so neere as I can, I leave all my lands and goods to him
that loves me best : These were his last words that he spake con-
cerning any worldly affaires.

After he was dead and buried, there arose a great controversie
betwixt them, who should inherit their fathers goods and lands,
every one pleading for himselfe, how that he loved his father
best. All the cunning lawyers of the kingdome could say
nothing to the purpose, concerning this case, so that they were
inforced to begge of the king a grant for a combat : for they
would not share the lands and goods among them, but every one
desired all or else nothing. The king seeing no other way to end
this controversie, granted a combat : the two eldest being to fight
first, and the conqueror to fight with the youngest, and the sur-
vivor of them was to have the land.

The day being come that was set for these combatants, they

308 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

all came in armed for the fight. Fryer Bacon being there present,
and seeing such three lustie young men like to perish, and that
by their owne flesh and bloode, grieved very much, and went to
the king desiring his maiestie that he would stay the fight, and
he would finde a meanes without any bloodshed to end the
matter : the king was very glad hereof, and caused the com-
batants to be brought before him, to whom he said : gentlemen,
to save the blood of you all, I have found a way, and yet the
controversie shall be ended that is now amongst you : Are you
contented to stand to his Judgment that I shall appoint ? They
all answered, that they were. Then were they bid to returne
three days after. In that time Fryer Bacon had caused the
body of their deceased father to be taken out of the ground, and
brought to the court : the body hee did cause to be bound to
a stake, naked to the middle upwards and likewise prepared
three bowes and shafts for the three brethren : all these kept hee
secretly.

The third day being come, came these three brethren, to whom
Fryer Bacon in the presence of the king gave the three bowes
and shafts, saying, be not offended at what I have done, there is
no other way but this to judge your cause : See here is the body
of your dead father, shoot at him, for he that cometh nearest to
his heart, shall have all the lands and goods.

The two eldest prepared themselves, and shot at him, and
stucke their arrowes in his breast. Then bid they the youngest
to shoot : but he refused it, saying, I will rather lose all, then
wound that body that I so loved living : Had you ever had but
halfe that love (in you) to him that I have, you would rather have
had your own bodies mangled, than to suffer his lifelesse corps
thus to be used • nay, you doe not onely suffer it, but you are the
actors of this act of shame : and speaking this, he wept.

Fryer Bacon seeing this, did give the iudgement on his side,
for he loved his father best, and therefore had all his lands and
goods : the other two brothers went away with shame for what
they had done. This deed of Fryer Bacoris was highly com-
mended of all men : for he did not onely give true judgement,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 309

but also saved much blood that would have beene shed, had
they beene suffered to have fought.

How Fryer Bacon served the Theeves that robbed ///;;/, and of the
sport that his man Miles had with them.

IT was reported about the countrey how that the king had given
Fryer Bacon great store of treasure. The report of this wealth
made three theeves plot to rob Fryer Bacons house, which they
put in practise one evening in this fashion. They knockt at the
doore and were let in by Miles : No sooner were they in, but
they took hold of him, and led him into the house, and find-
ing Fryer Bacon there, they told him that they came for some
money, which they must and would have ere they departed from
thence. He told them, that he was but ill stored with money at
that time, and therefore desired them to forbeare him till some
other time. They answered him againe, that they knew that hee
had enough, and therefore it was but folly to delay them, but
straight let them have it by faire means, or else they would use
that extremitie to him that hee would bee loth to suffer. Hee
seeing them so resolute, told them that they should have all that
hee had, and gave to them one hundred pounds a man. Here-
with they seemed content, and would have gone their wayes.
Nay, said Fryer Bacon, I pray gentlemen at my request tarry a
little, and heare some of my mans musicke : you are hyred
reasonable well already, I hope in courtesie you will not deny
mee so small a request. That will wee not, (said they all).

Miles thought now to have some sport with them, which hee
had, and therefore played lustily on his tabor and pipe. So soone
as they heard him play (against their wills) they fell a dauncing,
and that after such a laborious manner, that they quickly wearied
themselves (for they had all that while the bagges of money in
their handes.) Yet had Fryer Bacon not revenge enough of them,
but bid his man Miles lead them some larger measure as hee
thought fitting, which Miles did. Miles straight ledde them out
of the house into the fields, they followed him, dauncing after a

3io HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

wilde anticke manner : then led hee them over a broad dike full
of water, and they followed him still, but not so good a way as he
went (for he went over the bridge, but they by reason of their
dauncing, could not keepe the bridge, but fell off, and dauncing
through the water) then led hee them through a way where a
horse might very well have been up to the belly : they followed
him, and were so durtie, as thougli they had wallowed in the myre
like swine : sometimes gave hee them rest onely to laugh at them :
then were they so sleepie when hee did not play, that they fell to
the ground. Then on a sudden would hee play againe, and make
them start up and follow him. Thus kept hee them the better
part of the night. At last hee in pittie left playing, and let them
rest. They being asleep on the bare ground he tooke their money
from them, and gave them this song for their farewell, to the tune
of, " Oh doe me no harme good man."

You roaring boyes, and sturdy theeves,

you pimpes, and aples squires :
Lament the case of these poor knaves,

and warme them by your fires.

They snorting lye like hogs in stie.

but hardly are so warme :
If all that cheat, such hap should meet,

to true men 'twere no harme.

They money had, which made them glad,

their ioy did not indure :
Were all theeves serv'd as these have beene,

I thinke there would bee fewer.

When that they wake, their hearts will ake,

to thinke upon their losse :
And though the gallows they escape,

they goe by weeping crosse.

They were scarce any thing the better for this song, for they
slept all the while : so Miles left them at their rest : but they had
small cause to sleepe so soundly as they did, for they were more
wett than ere was scold with cucking. Miles gave his master his
money againe, and told the story of their merry pilgrimage : he

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 3n

laughed at it, and wisht all men had the like power to serve all
such knaves in the like kind. The theeves waking in the morn-
ing and missing their money, and seeing themselves in that plight,
thought that they had been served so by some divine power, for
robbing a church-man, and therefore they swore one to the other,
never to meddle with any churchman againe.

How Vandermast, for the disgrace that he had received by Fryer
Bacon sent a souldier to kill him ; and how Fryer Bacon
escaped killing, and turned the souldier from an Atheist to be a
good Christian.

FRYER BACON sitting one day in his study, looked over all the
dangers that were to happen to him that moneth, there found he,
that in the second week of the moneth between sunne rising and
setting, there was a great danger to fall on him, which without
great care of prevention take away his life. This danger which
he did foresee, was caused by the Germane coniurer Vanclermast,
for he vowed a revenge for the disgrace that he had received.
To execute the same, hee hyred a Walloon souldier, and gave him
one hundred crownes to do the same, fifty beforehand, and fifty
when hee had killed him.

Fryer Bacon, to save himselfe from this danger that was like to
happen to him, would alwayes when that he read, hold a ball of
brasse in his hand, and under that ball would he set a bason of
brasse, that if hee did chance to sleepe in his reading, the fall of
the ball out of his hand into the bason, might wake him. Being
one day in his study in this manner, and asleepe, the Walloon
souldier was got in to him, and had drawne his sword to kill him :
but as hee was ready for to strike, downe fell the ball out of Fryer
Bacon's hand, and waked him. Hee seeing the souldier stand
there with a sword drawne, asked him what hee was ? and where-
fore hee came there in that manner ? The souldier boldly an-
swered him thus : I am a Walloon, and a souldier, and more then
this, a villaine : I am come hither, because I was sent ; I was
sent, because I was hyred \ I was hyred, because I durst do it :

312 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

the thing I should doe, is not done : the thing to be done, is to
kill thee : thus have you heard what I am and why I came.
Fryer Bacon wondered at this man's resolution ; then asked hee
of him, who set him on worke to bee a murderer ? Hee boldly
told him, Vandermast the Germane coniurer : Fryer Bacon then
asked him what religion he was of? He answered, of that
which many doe professe, the chief principles of which were these :
to goe to an ale-house, and to a church with one devotion, to
absteine from evil for want of action, and to doe good against
their wills. It is a good profession for a devil (said Fryer Bacon.)
Doest thou believe hell ? I believe no such thing, answered the
souldier. Then I will shew thee the contrary, said the Fryer :
and presently raised the ghost of Julian the Apostate, who came
up with his body burning, and so full of wounds, that it almost
did affright the souldier out of his wits. Then Bacon did com-
mand this spirit to speake, and to shew what hee was, and where-
fore hee was thus tormented ? Then spake hee to it in this
manner : I sometimes was a Roman Emperor : some count great-
nesse a happinesse : I had happinesse beyond my empire, had I
kept that, I had beene a happy man : would I had lost my empire
when I lost that. I was a Christian, that was my happiness ; but
my selfe love and pride made me to fall from it ; for which I now
am punished with never ceasing torments, which I must still
endure : the like which I enioy is now prepared for unbeleeving
wretches like myself, so vanished he away.

All this while the souldier stood quaking, and sweat as he had
felt the torments himselfe ; and falling downe on his knees de-
sired Fryer Bacon to instruct him in a better course of life, then
he had yet gone in. Fryer Bacon told him, that he should not
want his helpe in any thing, which he performed, instructing him
better : then gave he him money, and sent him to the warres of
the holy land, where he was slain.

Hoiv Fryer Bacon deceived an old Usurer.

NOT farre from Fryer Bacon, dwelt an olde man that had great
store of money which hee let out to use, and would never doe

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 313

any good with it to the poore, though Fryer Bacon had often put
him in minde of it, and wished him to do some good whilest he
lived. Fryer Bacon seeing this, by his art made an iron pot,
which seemed full of gold. This being done, he went to this
rich usurer, and told him, that he had some gold which he had
gathered in his time that he had lived ; but it being much in
quantity, hee feared that if it were knowne, it would be taken
from him, because it was unfitting a man of his coat should have
so much : now he desired him that hee would let him have some
hundred pounds, which was not the sixth part of his gold, and he
should kepe it for him. The usurer was glad to heare of this,
and told him that he should have it, and that he would keep his
gold as safe as himself would : Fryer Bacon was glad to heare
of this, and presently fetcht the pot : at the sight of which the
usurer laughed, and thought to himself, how all that gold was his
owne, for hee had a determination to gull the fryer, but he gulled
himselfe. So here is the gold (said Fryer Bacon) now let me
have of you one hundred pounds, and keep you this gold till I
pay it backe again. Very willingly (said the usurer) and told him
one hundred pounds out, which Fryer Bacon tooke and delivered
him the note, and so went his way. This mony did Fryer Bacon
give to divers poore schollers, and other people and bid them pray
for old Good-gatherers soules health (so was this usurer calPd)
which these poor people did, and would give him thankes and
prayers when they met him, which he did wonder at, for he never
deserved the praires of any man. At last this old Good-gatherer
went to looke on this pot of gold, but instead of gold he found
nothing but earth, at which sight he would have died, had not
his other gold hindred him, which hee was to leave behind him :
so gathering up his spirits, hee went to Fryer Bacon, and told
him he was abused and cheated ; for which he would have the
law of him, unlesse he made him restitution. Fryer Bacon told
him, that he had not cheated him, but bin his faithful steward to
the poore, which he could not chuse but know, either by their
prayers, or their thanks ; and as for the law he feared it not, but
bid him doe his worst. The old man seeing Fryer Bacon's

3i4 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

resolution, went his way, and said, that hereafter hee would be
his owne steward.

How Miles, Fryer Bacons man did coniure for meat, and got meate
for himself e and his hoast.

MILES chanced one day upon some businesse, to goe some six
miles from home, and being loth to part with some company that
he had, he was be-lated, and could but get halfe way home that
night; to save his purse hee went to ones house that was his
masters acquaintance : but when he came, the good man of the
house was not at home, and the woman would not let him have
lodging. Miles seeing such cold entertainment wished he had
not troubled her, but being now there, he was loth to goe any
further and therefore with good words he perswaded her for to
give him lodging that night. She told him that she would
willingly doe it, if her husband were at home, but he being now
out of towne, it would be to her discredit to lodge any man.
You neede not mistrust me, (said Miles) : locke me in any place
where there is a bed, and I will not trouble you till to morrow
that I rise. She thinking her husband would be angry if she
should deny any of his friends so small a request, consented that
he should lye there, if that he would be locked up : Miles was
contented and presently went to bed, and she locked him into
the chamber where he lay.

Long had not he beene a bed, but he heard the doore open ;
with that he rose and peeped through a chinke of the partition,
and saw an old man come in : this man set down his basket that
he had on his arme, and gave the woman of the house three or
four sweet kisses : then did hee undo his basket, and pulled out
of it a fat capon ready roasted, and bread, with a bottle of good
olde sacke ; this gave hee unto her, saying, Sweetheart, hearing
thy husband was out of towne, I thought good to visite thee, I
am not come emptie handed, but have brought some thing to be
merrie withal : lay the clothe sweete hony, and let us to banquet.
She kindly thanked him, and presently did as he bad her : they

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 315

were not scarce set at the table, but her husband returning backe,
knockt at the doore. The woman hearing this was amazed, and
knew not what to doe with her old lover : but looking on her
apron strings, she straight found, (as women used to doe) a trick
to put herself free from this feare ; for shee put her lover under
the bed, the capon and bread she put under a tub, the bottle of
wine shee put behinde the chest, and then she did open the
doore, and with a dissembling kisse welcomed her husband home,
asking him the reason why that he returned so quickly. He told
her, that hee had forgot the money that he should have carried
with him, but on the morrow betimes hee would be gone. Miles
saw and heard all this : and having a desire to taste of the capon
and the wine, called the goodman. He asked his wife who that
was ? She told him, an acquaintance of his, that intreated lodging
there that night. He bid her open the door, which she did, and
let Miles out. Hee seeing Miles there, bid him welcome, and
bade his wife to set them some meate on the table : she told
him that there was not any ready, but prayed him to kepe his
stomacke till morrow, and then she would provide them a good
breakefast. Since it is so Miles (said the goodman) wee must
rest contented, and sleepe out our hunger. Nay stay said Miles,
if that you can eate, I can find you good meat ; I am a scholler,
and have some art. I would faine see it (said the goodman).
You shall quoth Miles, and that presently. With that Miles
pulled forth a booke out of his bosome, and began his coniuration
in this fashion :

From the fearefull lake below,
From whence spirits come and goe ;
Straightway come one and attend
Fryer Bacons man, and friend.

Comes there none yet ? quoth Miles : then I must use some
other charme.

Now the o\vle is flowne abroad,
For I heare the croaking toade ;
And the bat that shuns the day}
Through the darke doth make her way.

316 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

Now the ghosts of men doe rise,
And with fearful hideous cryes,
Seeke revengement (from the good)
On their heads that spilt their blood,
Come some spirit, quicke I say
Night's the Devils holy-day :
Where ere you be, in dennes, or lake,
In the ivy, ewe, or brake :
Quickly come and me attend,
That am Bacons man and friend.
But I will have you take no shape
Of a bear a horse, or ape :
Nor will I have you terrible,
And therefore come invisible.

Now is he come, (quoth Miles) and therefore tell me wnat meat
you will have mine hoast? Any thing Miles, (said the goode-
man) what thou wilt. Why then (said Miles) what say you to a
capon ? I love it above all meat (said the goodman). Why then
a capon you shall have, and that a good one too. Bemo my
spirit that I have raised to doe mee service, I charge thee, seeke
and search about the earth, and bring me hither straight the best
of capons ready roasted. Then stood hee still a little, as though
he had attended the comming of his spirit, and on the sudden said :
It is well done, my Bemo, hee hath brought me (mine hoast), a
fat capon from the King of Tripolis owne table, and bread with it.
Aye but where is it Miles (said the hoast) I see neither spirit nor
capon. Looke under the tub (quoth Miles) and there you shall
finale it. He presently did, and brought (to his wives griefe) the
capon and bread out. Stay (quoth Miles) we do yet want some
drinke that is comfortable and good ; I think mine hoast a bottle
of Maliga sacke were not amisse, I will have it : Bemo, haste
thee to Maliga, and fetch me from the governours a bottle of his
best sacke. The poore woman thought that hee would have be-
trayed her and her lover, and therefore wished that he had beene
hanged, when that hee came first into her house. Hee having
stood a little while, as before, saide, Well done, Bemo, looke be-
hinde the great chest (mine hoast). Hee did so, and brought out
the bottle of sacke. Now (quoth hee) Miles sit downe, and wel-

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 317

come to thine owne cheere : You may see wife (quoth he) what a
man of art can doe, get a fatte capon, and a bottle of good sacke
in a quarter of an houre, and for nothing, which is best of all :
Come (good wife) sit downe, and bee merry ; for all this is paid
for, I thanke Miles.

Shee sate, but could not eat a bit for anger, but wished that
every bit they did eate might choake them : Her old lover too
that lay under the bed all this while still looked when that Miles
would discover him. When they had eaten and drunke well, the
good man desired Miles that hee would let him see the spirit that
fetched them this good cheere : Miles seemed unwilling, telling
him that it was against the laws of art, to let an illiterate man see
a spirit, but yet, for once hee would let him see it : and told him
withall, that hee must open the door, and soundly beat the spirit,
or else hee should bee troubled hereafter with it, and because he
should not feare it, hee would put it in the shape of some one of
his neighbours. The good man told him, that hee neede not
to doubt his valour, he would beat him soundly, and to that pur-
pose hee took a good cudgell in his hand, and did stande ready
for him. Miles then went to the bed side, under which the old
man lay, and began to coniure him with these words,

Bemo quickly come, appeare,
Like an old man that dwells neere ;
Quickly rise, and in his shape,
From this house make thy escape ;
Quickly rise, or else I sweare,
He put thee in a worser feare.

The old man seeing no remedy, but that hee must needes
come forth, put a good face on it, and rose from under the bed :
Behold my spirit (quoth Miles) that brought me all that you have
had ; now bee as good as your word and swaddle him soundly.
I protest (said the goodman) your Devill is as like Goodman
Stumpe the tooth-drawer, as a pomewater is like an apple : is it
possible that your spirits can take other mens shapes : He teach
this to keepe his owne shape ; with that hee beat the old man
soundly, so that Miles was faine to take him off, and put the old

3i8 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

man out of doore, so after some laughing, to bed they all went :
but the woman could not sleepe for griefe, that her old lover had
had such bade usage for her sake.

How Fryer Bacon did helpe a young man to his Sweetheart, which
Fryer Bungye would have married to another ; and of the mirth
that was at the wedding.

AN Oxfordshire gentleman had long time loved a faire mayde,
called Millisant ; this love of his was as kindly received of her,
as it was freely given of him, so that there wanted nothing to the
finishing of their ioyes, but the consent of her father, who would
not grant that she should bee his wife (though formerly he had
been a meanes to further the match) by reason there was a knight
that was a suitor to her, and did desire that hee might have her
to his wife : but this knight could never get from her the least
token of good wil : so surely was her love fixed upon the gentle-
man. This knight seeing himselfe thus despised, went to Fryer
Bungye, and told him his mind, and did promise him a good piece
of money if he could get her for him, either by his art, or cpunsell.

Bungye (being covetous) told him, that there was no better
way in his mind, than to get her with her father to go take the
air in a coach : and if hee could doe so, he would by his art so
direct the horses, that they should come to an old chappell, where
hee would attend, and there they might secretly be married. The
knight rewarded him for his counsell, and told him that if it tooke
effect, he would be more bountifull unto him, and presently went
to her father, and told him of this. Hee liked well of it, and
forced the poore maid to ride with them. So soone as they were
in the coach, the horses ran presently to the chappell, where they
found Fryer Bungye attending for them : at the sight of the
church and the priest, the poore maid knew that she was betraid,
so that for griefe shee fell in a swound : to see which her father
and the knight, were very much grieved, and used their best skill
for her recovery.

In this time, her best beloved, the gentleman, did come to her

.EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 319

fathers to visit her, but finding her not there, and hearing that
shee was gone with her father and the knight, he mistrusted
some foul play : and in all hast went to Fryer Bacon, and desired
of him some help to recover his love againe, whom he feared was
utterly lost.

Fryer Bacon (knowing him for a vertuous gentleman) pittyed
him ; and to give his griefes some release, shewed him a glasse,
wherein any one might see any thing done (within fifty miles
space) that they desired : so soone as he looked in the glasse,
hee saw his love Millisant with her father, and the knight, ready
to be married by Fryer Bungye : at the sight of this hee cryed
out that he was undone, for now should he lose his life in losing
of his love. Fryer Bacon bids him take comfort, for he would
prevent the marriage ; so taking this gentleman in his armes, he
set himselfe downe in an enchanted chaire, and suddenly they
were carried through the ayre to the chappell. Just as they came
in, Fryer Bungye was ioyning their hands to marry them : but
Fryer Bacon spoyled his speech, for he strucke him dumbe, so
that he could not speake a worde. Then raised he a myst in the
chappell, so that neither the father could see his daughter, nor
the daughter her father, nor the knight either of them. Then
fooke he Millisant by the hand, and led her to the man she most
desired : they both wept for ioy, that they so happily once more
had met, and kindly thanked Fryer Bacon.

It greatly pleased Fryer Bacon to see the passion of these two
lovers, and seeing them both contented, he marryed them at the
chappell doore, whilest her father, the knight, and Fryer Bungye
went groping within, and could not find the way out. Now
when he had married them, he bid them get lodging at the next
village, and he would send his man with money : (for the gentle-
man was not stored, and he had a great way to his house) they
did as he bad them. That night hee sent his man Miles with
money to them ; but he kept her father, the knight, and Fryer
Bungey till the next day at noon in the chappell, ere he released
them.

The gentleman and his new married wife made that night a

320 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

great supper for ioy of their marriage, and bid to it most of the
village : they wanted nothing but musicke, for which they made
great moane. This want, Fryer Bacon (though he was absent)
supplied : for after supper there came such a maske, that the like
was never scene in that village : for first, there was heard most
sweet still musicke, then wind musicke : then came three apes,
and three monkeys, each of them carrying a torch : after them
followed sixe apes and monkeys more, all dressed in anticke
coats : these last sixe fell a dancing in such an odde manner,
that they moved all the beholders to much laughter : so after
divers antick changes, they did reverence to the bridegroome and
bride, and so departed in order as they came in. They all did
marvell from whence these should come : but the bridegroome
knew that it was Fryer Bacons art that gave them this grace to
their wedding. The next daye he went home to his owne house
with his bride : and for the cost he had bestowed on them, most
part of the townes-folke brought them on their way.

Miles made one amongst them too ; he for his masters sake
was so plyed with cups, that he in three dayes was scarce sober :
for his welcome, at his departure he gave them this song : to the
tune of, " I have been a fiddler," &c.

And did you heare of a mirth that befell,

the morrow after a wedding day :
At carrying a bride at home to dwell,

and away to Twiver, away, away !

The Quintin was set, and the garlands were made,
'tis a pity old custome shoufd ever decay :

And \voe be to him that was horst on a iade,
for he carried no credit away, away.

We met a consort of fiddle-de-dees,

we set them a cock-horse, and made them to play

The winning of Bullen, and Upsie-frees,
and away to Twiver, away, away.

There was ne'er a lad in all the parish,

that would goe to the plow that day :
But on his fore-horse his wench he carries,

and away to Twiver, away, away.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 321

The butler was quicke, and the ale he did tap,
the maidens did make the chamber full gay :

The serving-men gave me a fuddling cap,
and I did carye it away, away.

The smithe of the towne his liquor so tooke,
that he was perswaded the ground look'd blue,

And I dare boldly to sweare on a booke,
such smiths as he there are but a few.

A posset was made, and the women did sip,
and simpering said they could eate no more :

Full many a maid was laid on the lip ;
He say no more, but so give o're.

They kindly thanked Miles for his song, and so sent him home
with a foxe at his tayle. His master asked him, where he had
beene so long ? He told him at the wedding. I know it, (said
Fryer Bacon) that thou hast beene there, and I know also (thou
beast) that thou hast beene every day drunke. That is the worst
that you can say by me, master, for still poore men must be
drunke, if that they take a cup more than ordinary ; but it is not
so with the rich. Why how is it with the rich then ? I will tell
you (said Miles) in a few words,

Lawyers they are sicke ;
And Fryers are ill at ease ;
But poore men they are drunke ;
And all is one disease.

Well sirrah (said Fryer Bacon) let me not heare that you are
infected any more with this disease, lest I give you sowre sawce
to your sweet meat. Thus did Fryer Bacon helpe these poore
lovers, who in short time got the love of the old man, and lived
in great ioy : Fryer Bungey's tongue was againe let loose, and all
were friends.

How Vandermast and Fryer Bungye met, and how they strived
who should excel one another in their coniurations. : and of
their deaths.

VANDERMAST thinking that Fryer Bacon had beene dead, came
into England, and in Kent met with Fryer Bungey: he owing

322 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

him no good will for Fryer Bacons sake, took his horse out of
the stable, and instead of it, left a spirit like unto it. Fryer
Bungye in the morning rose, and mounting this spirit, (which he
thought had beene his horse) rode on his iourney : but he riding
through a water, was left in the midst of it by this spirit ; and
being thus wet, hee returned to his inne. At the inne doore,
Vandermast met him, and asked him, if that were swimming time
of the year? Bungye told him, if that he had been so well
horsed as he was, when Fryer Bacon sent him into Germany, he
might have escaped that washing. At this Vandermast bit his
lip, and said no more, but went in. Bungye thought that he
would be even with him, which was in this manner. Vander-
mast loved a girl well, which was in the house, and sought many
times to winne her for gold, love, or promises. Bungye knowing
this, did shape a spirit like her, which he sent to Vandermast.
Vandermast appointed the spirit to come to his chamber that
night, and was very ioyful : but his ioy turned into sorrow, and
his wanton hopes into a bad nights lodging : for Fryer Bungye
had by his art spread such a sheet on his bed, that no sooner was
he laid with the spirit on it, but it was carryed through the ayre,
and let fall into a deepe pond, where Vandermast had been
drowned, if he had not had the art of swimming : He got quickly
out of the pond, and shaked himselfe like a rough water-spaniel :
but being out, he was as much vexed as before, for he could not
tell the way home, but was glad to keepe himselfe in heat that
night with walking. Next day he coming to his inne, Fryer
Bungye asked him how he did like his wash ? He said, so well,
that he wished him such another. Thus did they continually
vexe each other, both in words, and ill actions. Vandermast
desiring to do Fryer Bungey a mischiefe, did challenge him to
the field (not to fight at sword and dagger, single rapier, or case
of poinyards, but at worser weapons farre, it was at that diabolical
art of magicke) there to shew which of them was most cunning,
or had most power over the Devill : Bungye accepted of his
challenge, and both provided themselves of things belonging to
the art, and to the field thev went.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 323

There they both spred their circles some hundred foot from
one another : and after some other ceremonies did Vander-
mast begin : hee by his charmes did raise up a fiery dragon,
which did runne about Fryer Bungyes circle, and did scorch
him with his heat so that he was almost ready to melt. Fryer
Bungye tormented Vandermast in another element : for he raised
up the sea-monster that Perseus killed, when he did redeem
the faire Andromeda. This sea-monster did run about Vander-
mast, and such flouds of water did he send out of his wide
mouth, that Vandermast was almost drowned. Then did Fryer
Bungye raise a spirit up like saint George, who fought with the
dragon, and killed it : Vandermast (following his example) raysed
up Perseus, who fought also with his sea-monster, and killed it,
so were they both released from their danger.

They being not contented with this tryall of their skill, went
further in their conjurations, and raised up two spirits, each of
them one. Bungye charged his spirit for to assist him with the
greatest power hee had, that by it he might be able to overcome
Vandermast. The Devill told him he would, if that he from , his
left arme would give him but three drops of blood ; but if that he
did deny him that, then should Vandermast have power over him
to doe what he would : the like told Vandermasts Devill to
him : to this demand of the spirits, they both agreed,' thinking
for to overcome each other • but the Devill overthrew them
both.

They having given the Devill this bloud, as is before spoken of,
they both fell againe to their coniurations : first, Bungye did rayse
Achilles with his Greekes, who marched about Vandermast and
threatned him. Then Vandermast raised Hector with his Troians,
who defended him from Achilles and the Greekes. Then began
there a great battell between the Greekes and Troians, which con-
tinued a good space : at last Hector was slaine, and the Troians
fled. Then did follow a great tempest, with thundring and light-
ning, so that the two coniurers wished that they had been away.
But wishes were in vaine : for now the time was come, that the
Devill would be paid for the knowledge that he had lent them,

324 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

he would not tarry any longer, but then tooke them in the height
of their wickednesse, and bereft them of their lives.

When the tempest was ended, (which did greatly affright the
townes there by) the townesmen found the bodies of these two
men, (Vandermast and Bungey) breathlesse, and strangely burnt
with fire. The one had Christian buriall, because of his order
sake : the other, because he was a stranger. Thus was the end
of these two famous coniurers.

How Miles would coniurefor money, and how he broke his legge
for feare.

MILES one day finding his Masters study open, stole out of it
one of his coniuring-bookes : with this booke would Miles needes
coniure for some money : (for he saw that his master had money
enough, and he desired the like, which did make him bold to
trouble one of his masters devils :) in a private place he thought
it best to doe it : therefore he went up to the top of the house,
and there began to reade : long had he not read, but a devill
came to him in an ugly shape, and asked him what he would
have ? Miles being affrighted, could not speake, but stood
quaking there like an aspin leafe : the devill seeing him so, (to
increase his feare) raised a tempest, and hurled fire about, which
made Miles leape from off the leades, and with his fall broke
his legge.

Fryer Bacon hearing this noyse, ranne forth, and found his
man Miles on the ground, and the Devill hurling fire on the
house top. First laid he the Devill again e : then went he to his
man and asked how hee got that broken legg ? Hee told him
his Devill did it : for he had frighted him, and made him leape
off from the house top. What didst thou there ? (said his Master.)
I went to coniure, Sir (said Miles) for money ; but I have got
nothing but a broken legge ; and I now must beg for money to
cure that, if you be not the more pittifull to me. I have often-
times given you warning not to meddle with my bookes (said his
Master) and yet you will still be doing : take heed, you had best,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 325

how you deale with the Devill againe : for he that had power to
breake your legge will breake your necke, if you againe doe
meddle with him : for this I doe forgive you : for your legge
breaking hath paid for your sawcinesse : and though I gave
you not a broken head, I will give you a plaister : and so sent
him to the chirurgions.

How two young Gentlemen that came to Fryer Bacon^ to know how
their fathers did, killed one another ; and how Fryer Bacon
for grief e, did breake his rare Glasse^ wherein he could see any
thing that was done within fifty miles about him.

IT is spoken of before now, that Fryer Bacon had a glasse, which
was of that excellent nature, that any man might behold any thing
that he desired to see within the compasse of fifty miles round
about him : with this glasse he had pleasured divers kinds of
people : for fathers did oftentimes desire to see (thereby) how
their children did, and children how their parents did; one friend
how another did ; and one enemy (sometimes) how his enemy
did : so that from far they would come to see this wonderfull
glasse. It happened one day, that there came to him two young
gentlemen, (that were countrey men, and neighbors children)
for to know of him by his glasse, how their fathers did : Hee
being no niggard of his cunning, let them see his glasse, wherein
they straight beheld their wishes, which they (through their owne
follies) bought at their lives losse, as you shall heare.

The fathers of these two gentlemen, (in their sonnes absence)
were become great foes : this hatred betweene them was growne
to that height, that wheresoever they met, they had not onely
wordes but blowes. Just at that time, as it should seeme, that
their sonnes were looking to see how they were in health, they were
met, and had drawne, and were together by the eares. Their
sonnes seeing this, and having been alwayes great friends, knew
not what to say to one another, but beheld each other with
angry lookes. At last, one of their fathers, as they might per-
ceive in the glasse, had a fall, and the other taking advantage,

326 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

stood over him ready to strike him. The sonne of him that
was downe, could then containe himselfe no longer, but told
the other young man, this his father had received wrong. He
answered againe, that it was faire. At last there grew such foule
words betweene them, and their bloods were so heated, that they
presently stabbed one the other with their daggers, and so fell
downe dead.

Fryer Bacon seeing them fall, ranne to them, but it was too
lateTfor They were breathlesse ere he came. This made him to
grieve exceedingly : he iudging that they had received the cause
of their deaths by this glasse, tooke the glasse in his hand, and
utteretTworcIs toThis effect :

Wretched Bacon, wretched in thy knowledge, in thy under-
standing wretched; for thy art hath beene the ruine of these
two gentlemen, Had I been busied in those holy things, the
which mine order tyes me to, I had not had that time that made
this wicked glasse : wicked I well may call it, that is the causer
of so vile an act : would it were sensible, then should it feele my
wrath ; but being as it is, He ruin it for ruining of them : and
with that he broke his rare and wonderfull glasse, whose like
the whole world had not. In this grief of his, came there newes
to him of the deaths of Vandermast and Fryer Bungey : This
did increase his griefe, and made him sorrowfull, that in three
days he would not eate any thing but kept his chamber.

Howe Fryer Bacon burnt Ms books of Magick, and gave himselfe to
the study of Divinity only ; and how he turned Anchorite.

IN the time that Fryer Bacon kept his chamber, hee fell into
divers meditations : sometimes into the vanity of arts and
sciences : then would hee condemne himselfe for studying of
those things that were so contrary to his order and soules health ;
and would say, that magicke made a man a Devill : sometimes
would hee meditate on divinity; then would he cry out upon
himselfe, for neglecting the study of it, and for studying magick :
sometime would he meditate on the shortnesse of mans life

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 327

then would he condemne himselfe for spending a time so short,
so ill as he had done his : so would he goe from one thing to
another and in all condemne his former studies.

And that the world should know how truly he did repent his
wicked life, he caused to be made a great fire \ and sending for
many of his friends, schollers, and others, he spake to them after
this manner : " My good friends and fellow students, it is not
unknowne unto you, how that through my art I have attained to
that credit, that few men living ever had : of the wonders that
I have done, all England can speak, both king and commons :
I have unlocked the secret of art and nature, and let the world
see those things, that have layen hid since the death of Hermes,
that rare and profound philosopher : my studies have found the
secrets of the starres ; the bookes that I have made of them, doe
serve for presidents to our greatest doctors, so excellent hath my
judgment beene therein. I likewise have found out the secrets
of trees, plants and stones, with their several uses ; yet all this
knowledge of mine I esteeme so lightly, that I wish that I were
ignorant, and knew nothing : for the knowledge of these things,
(as I have truly found) serveth not to better a man in goodnesse,
but onely to make him proud and thinke too well of himselfe.
What hath all my knowledge of natures secrets gained me?
Onely this, the losse of a better knowledge, the losse of divine
studies, which makes the immortall part of man (his soule)
blessed. I have found, that my knowledge has beene a heavy
burden, and has kept downe my good thoughts : but I will re-
move the cause, which are these bookes : which I doe purpose
here before you all to burne." They all intreated him to spare
the bookes, because in them there were those things that after-
ages might receive great benefit by. He would not hearken
unto them, but threw them all into the fire, and in that flame
burnt the greatest learning in the world. Then did he dispose
of all his goods ; some part he gave to poor schollers, and some
he gave to other poore folkes : nothing left he for himselfe : then
caused he to be made in the church-wall a cell, where he locked
himselfe in, and there remained till his death. His time hee

328 HISTORIE OF FRYER BACON.

spent in prayer, meditation, and such divine exercises, and did
seeke by all means to perswade men from the study of magicke.
Thus lived he some two yeeres space in that cell, never comming
forth : his meat and drink he received in at a window, and at
that window he did discourse with those that came to him ; his
grave he digged with his owne nayle.-, and was laid there when
he dyed. Thus was the Life and Death of this famous Fryer,
who lived most part of his life a Magician, and dyed a true Peni-
tent Sinner, and an Anchorite.

THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL
OF WARWICK.

VI.

THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF
WARWICK.

CHAPTER I.

An account of his parents, birth, and youthful exploits ; and Jioiv
he fell in love with Earl Roband's beautiful daughter, who
despised his suif.

I SHALL not trouble the reader with a long genealogy of the
descent of our famous Guy of Warwick (the subject of our
ensuing history) ; it shall therefore suffice to tell the reader, that
in the sixth year of the reign of King Edgar the Great, this, our
famous Guy, was born in the city of Warwick. His father was
a gentleman of Northumberland, in which country he had been
(in the time of the Mercian kings) the possessor of a fair estate :
but the arms of King Edgar prevailing over the King of Mercia,
as well as the rest of the Saxon kings that constituted the hept-
archy, Guyraldus Cassibilanus (for that was the name of Guy's
father), being engaged on the behalf of the King of Mercia, whose
subject he was, lost his estate in the quarrel : and afterwards
seeking to mend his fortune in our most southern climates, he
came to Warwick, and was so well received of the gentry there,
but especially of Earl Roband, who was then the King's governor,
both of the town and castle, that he made him his steward ; in
which place he so well acquitted himself, that he married the
daughter of an eminent knight in that town ; and by her he had
a son, who at his very birth looked like a hero, and whom his

332 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

father named Guy, and who, in process of time, became Earl
of Warwick, whose life and noble actions are the subject of our
present history. There were not wanting some presages of his
future greatness, even before he was born ; particularly, his mother,
during her pregnancy, dreamed that she saw Mars descend in
a bloody chariot, drawn by two fiery dragons; and telling her,
" That the infant contained in her womb, should so excel in arms,
that he should be the glory of this nation, and the terror of the
Pagan world : " which dream she discovered to the Countess of
Warwick, above a month before she was delivered of him. And
indeed, being born, he gave early proofs of his being an extra-
ordinary man ; for he was scarce come to be eight years old, before
he gave the world some early prognostics of his great strength
and martial genius, by beginning to practise running, wrestling,
throwing stones, and other exercises, even above what his young
years were capable of; exceeding those that were both older and
bigger than himself; and for which he was observed by all spec-
tators. And as he grew more towards maturity, he delighted
in, hardships, and such exercises as required both strength and
labour ; so that at sixteen there were but few that durst encounter
with him ; for then he would use to enter the lists, and always
came off victorious. Which coming to Earl Roband's ears, he
sent for him, and entertained him at dinner with himself, and
several of the gentry of the country, who were very well pleased
with his conversation ; after which he played several prizes before
the Earl, carrying the day, whatever he played with.

But by being at the Earl's house, he came to have a sight of
fair Phaelice, his beautiful daughter, with whom he was so ex-
tremely taken, that nothing but she could satisfy him. She was
indeed so fair, that she could not be seen without being loved.
She was so fair, Venus herself could never boast more beauty;
and had she but been present at the famous contest between
Juno, Pallas, and Venus, about the golden apple, on which was
writ, "Let it be given to the fairest," she had certainly borne
away the prize from them all. And some have affirmed, that
all the odds between Venus and her was, that Venus had a mole,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 333

and she had none : for she had most directly Venus's hair, the
same high forehead and attractive eyes : the roses and the lilies
in her cheeks were mixed with that equality, that none could say
which of them had the ascendant ; her lips were of a perfect coral
dye, nor could the ivory match her teeth for whiteness. She was
indeed from head to foot the mirror of all comeliness, an English
phcenix, the only supreme fair ; of whom it was the general opinion,
beauty could nowhere but hrPhselice's face be found in its per-
fection ; but these perfections were so many daggers, sticking
poor Guy to the heart; for he imagined these charming looks
of hers did unto him dart nothing but disdain ; and that which
his eyes looked on with delight, did nothing else but fill his
heart with pain. One while her smiles gave him encouragement ;
another time the sternness of her looks tossed him upon the
billows of despair. He would often sigh at the capriciousness of
Fortune, that she should deal so very strangely by him, to give a
wound that beauty would not heal. Then, recollecting himself,
he would say, " Fond man, why will not beauty heal thy wound ?
Thou wrongest thyself and thy fair goddess too, for who can know
a woman's heart by her looks ? And looking on her is all that
thou hast done. Well, now I will take a course shall be more
resolute : I will speak, or let her know my mind by writing. But
if I should, can I have any hopes that she should hear my words,
or read my lines ? She is Earl Roband's heir, and born too high
to listen to such poor designs as mine. For, though I am a gentle-
man by birth, yet I have no earldoms, nor lordships neither; and
women are exceedingly ambitious, and mounting up upon the wings
of pride, do oftener match themselves for worldly treasure, than
for that sacred love that is far more precious; which makes some
rather wish there were no gold, than love should be so basely sold
for it. And if my Phaelice should be such a one, what will my
words, or tears, or sighs prevail ? I only strive against the wind
and tide, and heap continual torments on my soul. Why should
I then attempt with waxen wings to fly where Phcebus's chariot
burns so brightly? But hold," said he again, "thou timorous
lover, and banish fear, or let thy passion go; be resolute, and

334 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

thou shalt have success; for Phcelice, doubtless, has a tender
heart ; and he that shoots Love's darts may well befriend thee,
because thy love is so like his mother's picture. I am resolved
to go to Phaelice's bower, and from as true a heart as flesh can
yield, entreat her in a happy hour to hear me, and with kind pity
to remove my sorrows ; to look upon me with a tender breast,
since as her love is inclined, I hold my life.'*

This said, he unto Warwick Castle goes, where the rich jewel of
his heart remained, Earl Roband bids him welcome, and pre-
pares to entertain him with a match of hunting, but he to that
lends an unwilling ear, and to prevent it pretends sudden sick-
ness. The Earl was grieved at this alteration, and sent his own
physician to him, who told him, that the only remedy consisted
in his being presently let blood, and that his body, under that
distemper, was very difficult and hard to cure.

To which Guy thus replied, " Doctor, I do applaud your judg-
ment, and know full well that what you say is true. I find
myself exceeding ill. But there is a flower, which, if I might
but touch, would heal me better far than all the skill of Galen
and Hippocrates to boot : it is called by a pretty pleasing name,
and I think Phcelix soundeth something like it.''

"I know it not," replied the doctor to him, "nor is there in
the herbal any flower that beareth such a name as I remember."

" Yes, yes," said Guy, " I am sure there is such a flower, and
that it is to be got within this castle ; nor doth it grow far from
yonder tower. But, doctor, I can find it out myself, and there-
fore will not give you so much trouble." On which the doctor
left him. Whilst Guy, bemoaning his unhappy state, sat sighing
by a window all alone, which window had a very curious prospect
into a pleasant and delightful garden ; in which, as suddenly he
cast his eye, he saw the adored empress of his thoughts, which
did so much exhilarate his soul, that he despised physicians and
their potions. Fear now was banished, and Hope reigned as
king. "This is a lucky time," said Guy to himself, "which I so
long have waited for. Now the bright sun of fortune shines upon
me. Now may I end the grief that Love began, and court my

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 335

Destiny while thus she smiles. Now I will enter into yonder
shade to court the only paragon of beauty. Phaelice, I come :
now Cupid, now assist me : prepare an arrow ready for thy bow,
and send it to the heart of her I love. And since I never went
a wooing yet, be now propitious to me. Give such prevailing
rhetoric to my tongue, that Phselice's heart may hang upon my
lips. But above all, grant this, O gentle Cupid, that when I
make most solemn protestations of my sincere and ever constant
love, that she may believe my words."

Then down with speed he goes unto the garden, where softly
knocking, he was soon let in by a young maid that waited upon
Phaelice ; who seeing him, and thinking he had been sent thither
by her father, as he was coming towards her, rose up to meet
him ; whom Guy, with Love's enchanting eye beholding, with a
becoming mien, accosts her thus :

'•' Fairest of all the curious works of nature, whose equal never
breathed in common air, more wonderful than any earth can yield,
the bright idea of celestial beauty. Eternal honour wait upon
thy name. The suit I have to thee is much like that which once
Leander came to Hero with, hoping thereby to reap more lovely
fruit than ever Mars gained from the queen of Love, when he
outwitted Vulcan. The present which I bring, is a heart filled
with love, and love can only satisfy my soul. Incline then,
madam, to my humble motion : compassionate the griefs that I
endure, and let that life that rests at your devotion be regarded.
With pity take my dying heart in cure, and let it not expire in
groaning torments, nor burst with griefs, because too well it loves
thee. I know, dear Phaelice, that great princes love thee, and
deeds of honour for thy sake have done. But neither king nor
prince can love thee more, no, nor so much as I, though but the
son of thy great father's steward ; for so inestimable is my love,
that whatsoever all others shall pretend, can never countervail it."

Whilst thus poor Guy was making protestations, Phselice thus
interrupted him :

" O gentle youth, speak not of love, I pray thee, for that is a
thing I have no mind to hear of: virginity with me shall live and

336 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

die. Love is composed of play and idleness, and leadeth only
unto vain delight. Besides, it is in thee too great a boldness, for
thou art far inferior to my degree : and should thy love be to my
father told, I know it would procure thee a reproof. And there-
fore learn instruction from the proverb, 'That princely eagles
scorn to catch flies.' Then, if thou in thy suit wouldst have
success, let thy desires be equal to thy fortune, and aim not at
those things that are above it. Thou ownest, thyself, princes
have courted me; then why should I, that have refused their
courtship, stoop down so low as to my father's steward; nay,
lower yet, unto his steward's son ? My youth and beauty is but
in its bloom, and I have no mind to throw it away on one that is
so much inferior to me." And with this answer she departed
from him, leaving poor Guy more troubled now than ever : for
now, almost hopeless in love, he never does expect its comforts
more : —

But all his time he does to sorrow give,
Wishing each day the last that he may live.

CHAPTER II.

How Guy, after his being despised by Phcelice, grew almost dis-
tracted, till s/ie, being admonished by a vision, shews herself
more favourable to him.

LOADED with grief, poor Guy could take no rest, distracted in
his melancholy mind, refusing all things that delightful seemed,
as harsh, distasteful, and abhorred by him. Phaelice denies him
love, and slights his suit ; and then what comfort can the world
afford him? He looks like one, whom faith had doomed to
death. And like Orestes, in his frantic fits, he tears the golden
tresses from his head ; or mad Orlando, when of sense deprived,
from whom the use of reason is departed : so fares it with this
love-tormented man, whose ranging thoughts run all into disorder.
Society he shuns, and keeps alone, accusing Destiny, and cursing
Beauty. He is a friend to none, but hates himself beyond the
bounds of nature and of love. " Venus," cries he, " how are thy

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 337

laws forgot, to punish him who never did offend thee ? what is
the cause that I am thus rejected? who interrupts my love to
Beauty's mirror ? I will drag him hence to roaring Erebus, there
to be plagued with never ceasing tortures. I will to the court of
Jove, where my loud shouts shall, with their clamour, rend the
very skies. Shall I be cozened, as Orpheus was? Assist me,
Thersus, to revenge this wrong. Where is Rhadamant, that Justice
cannot pass? Eurydice even for a song is sold; fiends, furies,
goblins, hydras, for a fall I am prepared to manage every one
of you. I will mount upon the back of Pegasus, and in bright
Phoebus's flames I will wrap myself. Then will I tumble windy
./Solus to sleep in Thetis's watery crystal lap. From thence I
will post unto the torrid zone, to find which way fair Phaelice's
love is fled. Jason had luck to win the golden fleece : I like the
skin, but care not for the horns. Fair Helen was a wanton
Grecian wench. Bold Mars will venture ; Venus cannot help
it. Trust a fair face ! not I ; let him that list. What is Hercules
without a club in his hand ? "

Thus of his senses was poor Guy deprived ; thus did he rave
and say he knew not what, being left by Love as blind as Cupid's
eyes, till reason reassumed her rule again, and wild disordered
passions ceased to tyrannise : for in nocturnal visions Phaelice
saw the power of Love, and gave to Guy her heart.

When Morpheus, drowsy serjeant of the night, had with his
leaden key locked up the sense, and laid on Phselice's eyes his
sable mace, the heart-tormentor Cupid, he that wounds, and
makes poor lovers buy their bargains dear, sends from his bow a
golden-headed shaft, and wounded Phselice in her maiden bed ;
and to her sight presents a martial man, in armour clad, and fit for
all encounters. "Give him thy heart," said he, "for he deserves
it. For comely shape and limbs, courage, and valour, the world
hath not a champion that is like him. Great honour, lady, thou
shalt thereby gain, to adorn thy birth, that is noble and renowned.
He shall aspire to such a height of fame, that kings and princes
shall his friendship covet. He shall the glory of his country be,
and by the sword perform such wondrous things, that kings shall

338 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

court him to become their champion. Be not ambitious then that
thou art high born, nor be disdainful of a mean estate. Be not
defiled then with a scornful soul, nor lifted up, because Heaven
has made thee fair ! for it is in vain against my bow to strive. If
I say love, it must and shall be so. Fix not thy thoughts then
upon worldly wealth, for coin has no affinity to love, although by
stealth it draws away the heart. Nor can these money matches
ever be happy ; for as the goods of fortune do decay, so does that
Love which they beget consume. I know the sway that golden
treasures bear, by false illusions, and by base deceits, and see how
women's humours now-a-days run after riches to their own con-
fusion. I see that every abject country peasant, with gold enough,
can buy a dainty wife. But, Phcelice, if thou knewest as well as
I, how much displeased Heaven is at such abuses, thou wouldst
scorn that ever virgins should be sold for gold and silver, as your
cattle are. Love must be simple, harmless, plain, and pure, and
grounded upon sincere affection ; and it must likewise be reci-
procal, or else it is not as it ought to be. Love's inward thoughts
too, must in outward deeds (such as from sacred truth proceed)
concur. Thy lover comes not for advancement to thee, because
thy father is a worthy Earl ; nor for Arabian spice, nor Indian
gems ; but as great Jupiter to Leda came, it is only to enjoy thy
love and beauty. Therefore, sweet virgin, use him well and kindly ;
make much of him, embrace him for thy own, and let him in thy
heart have a chief place : let him no longer for thee moan and
grieve, but when thou seest him next, give him encouragement ;
and in the arms of thy affection let him be embraced." And with
that word EMBRACED, he shot and hit the very centre of her tender
heart. Feeling the wound, she starts, and then awaked, being
thereby taught to pity smarting lovers ; for Cupid to the head his
arrow drew, because he would be sure it should hit home. With
that she fetched a very grievous sigh, and from her eyes a shower
of tears did fall. " Where is," quoth she, " the gentle love-god
gone, whose power I find so powerful over all ? Oh ! call him
back, my fault I do confess ; I have in love been too, too void of
pity, Sweet boy, solicit for me to thy mother ; for at her altars

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 339

now will I sacrifice ; and from henceforth no other I will adore.
No goddess in my ears shall gracious be, but she who hath the
all-subduing power of conquering with delight obdurate hearts.
Compassion now hath worthy conquest made of that strong fort
that did resistance make. To make a league, one shaft had
been sufficient; a league for life, a truce that lasts till death."

Guy, more than life, prefers his Phaelice's love : Phselice loves
him as dear as he doth her ; but it is, alas ! to him as yet unknown,
though he made his apparent long before ; that now she is his, he
does not yet understand ; his wound still bleeds, and there is no
salve applied : till forced by his passion, and the pain he feels, he
boldly thus his second suit begins : —

" Phselice, I have been long ago arraigned, and now I from
your hand expect my judgment. I have been a prisoner in a gaol
of woe, so long that now I do demand my sentence. Oh ! speak
unto me either of life or death, for I am quite grown weary of my
life. In that fair form of thine, if kindness dwell, express it with,
' I love ; ' if none there be, then say, ' I cannot unto love incline.'
Thus thou with me mayst make a quick despatch. Let then thy
frowns or smiles declare my fate. For, for this kingdom's crown,
I would not long endure these racking pains that now I undergo."

Phselice replied, " It is not at my dispose for to yield to love
without my friends' consent, for then I should be guilty of the
crime of being disobedient to my parents. You know my father's
greatness in the land, and if he should (as probably he will) refuse
the love of one he thinks too mean, how could we bear the stroke
disgrace would strike? No remedy but death could ease my
sorrow, and shame would soon become my winding-sheet."

" O doubt not of your father in this case," replied Guy, " for
Warwick's noble Earl shall see such deeds of valour done by me,
he neither will, nor can deny the match. Enjoin me what adven-
tures thou thinkest fit, that wounds and scars may let my body
blood."

" Why then," quoth Phselice, " make thy valour shine, through-
out the world as glorious as the sun ; and I will give to thee my
heart, soul, and life, and which shall crown the rest, my truest

340 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

love : let deeds of honour by thy hands be done ; and by a mar-
tial life enhance thy fame ; and for a recompense of all thy toil,
take Phaelice for thy true and lawful wife."

" To gain thy love," said Guy, " I ask no more, and shall esteem
it bought at an easy rate. O that I were at work, my task to
prove with some such churlish man as Hercules."

" Phaslice, this kiss is all that now I crave,
And till I have purchased fame no more I'll have."

CHAPTER III.

How Guy, taking leave of Phcelice, took skipping for France, and
landed in Normandy, where he fought with three champions,
delivering a fair lady who was condemned to die.

GUY, now by Phaelice freed from Sorrow's thrall, arms his great
thoughts with Honour's enterprise, and so embarking, sails away
from France, leaving behind him England, and his joy. He
seeks for enemies, he longs for foes, and desires nothing more
than a fair opportunity to signalise the glory of his arms. And
being safe arrived in Normandy, and having escaped the fury of
a storm, Guy and the Captain of the vessel both went ashore, and
there refreshed themselves ; but they had not long been there,
before their ears were deafened with the loud shouts of a multi-
tude of people, and with the louder noise of drums and trumpets ;
this warlike noise extremely pleased our Guy, for now he thought
there would be work for him, who wanted nothing more than
some encounter. Therefore inquiring of his host the cause of
those loud noises that he heard without, he told him, " That a
beautiful young lady, whose name was called Dorinda, having
been ravished by the Duke of Blois's son, and charged him with
the crime, she was committed by the Duke his father unto
prison, as one that had accused him falsely of the crime ; and
that three ruffians were suborned to swear she laid that crime
to him on purpose to prevent his marriage with the Princess of
Parma, that she might be revenged for his breach of promise

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 341

made to her; which so incensed the old Duke, that he con-
demned her to be burned, unless she had a champion to vindicate
her innocence, by fighting with her three accusers. This news
much pleased Guy, who was resolved to vindicate the innocent,
and lay here a foundation for his future fame. So that inquiring
farther into it, and finding that the cause he was about to under-
take was just, he presently gave order for his horse and arms to
be got ready; and so accoutring himself in his warlike habili-
ments, he then took his leave of his host, and also of the Captain,
who had in vain endeavoured to dissuade him from it: and
having desired the Captain (who would willingly have gone along
with him) to wait for his return, he rode unto the place of combat,
where he saw the lady fastened to the stake, with several friends
about her, lamenting for her hard fate. Guy scarce had time for
to take a view of her, before those villains who had falsely accused
her, entered the lists well armed and mounted, and proudly
wheeling to the right and left, they made a stand ; one of them
demanded in a very haughty manner, whether any there present
durst enter the lists to vindicate the innocence of that condemned
criminal : " Let him come forth, and I shall soon," said he,
" make him repent his rash and unadvised undertaking." This
set Guy all on fire, who thereupon entering the lists, rode up, and
said, "Yes, here is a man, thou perjured villain, that dares to
vindicate a wronged lady's honour; and know, that I so little
fear you, that I will revenge her quarrel, not singly, with one
only, but with you all together; that so the matter may be the
sooner ended." This speech of Guy's so much enraged his
adversary, that giving order for the trumpets sounding, both
couched their spears, and so encountered each other, and with so
much fury, that the eartli trembled under them ; but Guy had so
much the advantage, that coming with his spear directly on his
adversary's breast, he found a passage through it to his heart, so
that he straight fell down, and with one groan expired.

The remaining combatants, vowing revenge for their com-
panion's death, charged both with desperate fury upon Guy, who
thereupon drew out his massy and well-tempered blade, and

342 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

brandishing it in his hand, soon made them feel it was like the
sword of fate, which there was no withstanding ; so that one falling
dead by his companion, and the other being wounded, begged
on his knees that life he had so justly forfeited ; which, that he
might more easily obtain, he made a free confession of his crime,
and showed how they had all been hired to accuse the lady,
by Philbertus, the Duke's son, who really was guilty ; and for a
thousand crowns had hired them all to bear false witness for him,
against that lady whom he had abused.

This full discovery caused through all the field an universal
shout ; each magnifying the valour and generosity of Guy ; and
we may be assured the lady was not behindhand in sounding out
the praise of her deliverer ; but who this generous stranger was,
was what all wished to know, but none could tell. When he
alighted and unbound her, she joyfully embraced his knees, im-
ploring a thousand blessings on his head, offering what rewards
he pleased to have: but he refused them all, telling her, "What
he did was out of love to virtue and to honour. But wished her to
take care of her own safety, by timely getting out of the Duke's
power, lest he should use some other means to take away her
life." So bidding her farewell, he rode back to the ship, and
there related to the Captain what befell him, who with no little
joy heard the relation. Yet after some consideration, it was
judged best to stay no longer in that harbour; and so they
weighed their anchors, and sailed out to sea.

Then did brave Guy a treble victory win,
Or else the lady in bad plight had been.

CHAPTER IV.

How Philbertus, the Duke of Blois's son, hearing what Guy had
done, followed him to the sea, where a dreadful fight happened
between them, in which Philbertus and his men were taken
prisoners.

As much haste as Guy and the Captain made to get out of the
harbour, yet they were not got , altogether out of danger; for

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 343

Philbertus being informed that one Guy, a native of England, had
not only overcome his knights of the post, but that his villainy
was also thereby discovered, and the injured lady freed and got
out of his reach ; it made his anger boil up to the utmost pitch of
rage, threatening to wreak his malice on the head of Guy, for
doing him so great an injury ; and therefore he secretly armed
sixty of his servants and his attendants, and with them made all
the haste imaginable to the port where he had information Guy's
ship lay, thinking to surprise him and the lady there together.
But finding himself disappointed, and that Guy had set sail three
hours before his coming, his disappointment made his rage boil
higher, especially believing Guy fled for fear of him, and that he
was also conveying the lady away with him. Whereupon going
on board a stout vessel that lay in the harbour, he commanded
them to weigh anchor, and make all the sail they could after the
English ship, which by a small boat just come into port, he
was informed was sailed to the eastward. The manners imme-
diately got ready, and having a fair wind, and the ship being a
very good sailer, in the running of a glass and a half they came
within sight of the ship wherein Guy was. No sooner was the
French ship come in sight, but the mariners gave notice of it to
their Captain, who viewing of the ship with his prospect glass,
told Guy, that he was sure they were pursued, and that the enemy
being treble their number, their best way was to hoist up all their
sails, and to make the best of their way; and that then, by the
help of the evening, he did not doubt but to get clear of them.
"Why, how many ships," said Guy, "are they that chase us?"
" Why," said the Captain, " I discern no more than one at pre-
sent, but it is a good stout ship, and carries thrice the men on
board that we do."— "Well, well," said Guy, "if that be all be
of good courage; and the first thing we do, let us tack about,
and meet them like courageous Englishmen; I will bear the
brunt of war myself alone. I would not for the crown of
France, I will swear it, have it reported that Guy ever fled."
This speech had the effect upon the seamen, that one and all
cried, " Let us engage them straight." Nor did the Captain now

344 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

appear less willing. And so they cried, " All hands aloft," to put
them in a posture of defence ; which they had no sooner done,
but up the French ship comes, and grapples them; this Guy
was glad to see, hoping he should be with them presently, and
therefore he gave orders to let the French board them without
much difficulty; who, by that means supposing they had been
victorious, gave such a shout as victors do at land. This insolence
made Guy so lay about him, each blow he struck had more than
human force, and in a few moments all the deck was nothing but
a scene of blood and slaughter ; no armour was of proof against
his sword, for at each blow fresh streams of blood ran down.
Philbertus was amazed at the dismal sight, and wished himself
in his own ship again ; and ordered those few that were left
alive, if possible, to get to his own ship, and then immediately
ungrapple; which Guy perceiving, having cleared his deck, he
soon leaped on board of the French ship, and singly there main-
tained a bloody fight, hewing them down with so much fury, that
many of them, to escape his sword, leaped into the sea. Phil-
bertus seeing this, gave all the encouragement to his men that
was possible ; and as one now grown desperate, charged on Guy's
helmet with such force, as made it sparkle fire ; at which undaunted
Guy returned him such a blow, as at his feet made him fall down
for dead ; which made the soldiers all throw down their arms,
and cry aloud for quarter, And thereupon Guy, who was always
merciful to conquered foes, ended the battle, commanding all his
men to fight no more : in which time Philbertus came to himself
again, and with a low submission, begged his life, which Guy as
freely gave him. And having removed him and the rest into his
own ship, set fire to that of Philbertus, and sailed on his intended
voyage, coasting along the shore, until they touched upon that
part of Normandy that borders upon Germany ; where Guy, with
an undaunted courage, landed; and there was welcomed with
the pleasing news, that a great tilt and tournament was to be
held for Blanch the Emperor's daughter, a beautiful and an
accomplished lady, who was to be the victor's prize, who thereby
had a right to marry her, and to have with her a brace of grey-

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 345

hounds, a falcon, and a milk white steed. Upon this welcome
news, Guy discharges the Captain of the vessel, leaving the
prisoners with him, to dispose of at his pleasure; who putting
them to their ransom, they obtained their liberty, while Guy, with
eager haste, rode to his royal tilting.

And flushed with victory already won,

Thought greater things might by him now be done.

CHAPTER V.

How Guy triumphed over all the German princes, and won the
beauteous Blanch, the Emperor's daughter, and after leaving
her, returned for England.

GUY of the Captain having took his leave, goeth where there was
more business to be done : for hearing that there was to be a
meeting of valiant knights from divers Christian lands, that did
intend to run a race of valour, for which a great advantage was-
propounded, it was charming music to his greedy ear. The prize
that drew them all unto this place, was the -daughter to the
Almain Emperor, fair Blanch, whose wondrous face had that
attractive power, that it united all the graces in her. It was
thither all the worthies posting came : who won the damsel (for
so was the law) by manly courage, and victorious might, should
have her mounted on a milk white steed, attended with two grey-
hounds and a falcon, all of the same colour (if white may be so
called) ; this was his lot that could obtain the day, to bear away
the honour, and the maid. Our English knight prepares him
for the field, where kings and princes also present were, and
dukes and earls a very great assembly held, about that wondrous
fair, and beauteous prize. Though only one must speed, and
hundreds miss, yet there each man imagines Blanch his own.
The spacious field wherein they were assembled, hardly afforded
room for the armed knights. The golden glittering armour that
was there darted the sunbeams back into the clouds. The
pampered horses proudly pranced about, to hear the clangour of
the trumpets sound.

346 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

A German Prince of an undaunted spirit did the first onset and
encounter give unto an Earl, whose valour did requite him with
blow for blow, as resolutely brave, till by a stroke on his head the
Earl received, he was unhorsed, falling on the ground for dead.

Next, Guy with courage to the Prince comes forth, and fights
just like another Hercules ; like force he never felt before nor
since ; nor never was put into such hard extremes. Just where
himself had laid the Earl before, there down comes he, both
horse and man to the ground.

Duke Otton seeing this, was in a rage, and with such wrathful
humours was incensed, he vowed by heaven that nothing should
appease his fury, but the death of that proud foe. " Prepare thee
now," quoth he, "to breathe thy last, monster or devil, what-
soever thou be." They join together in a dreadful fight, the
clattering armour sounds, the splinters fly, and the ascending
dust will not let them see : their blood allays it, streaming from
their wounds. Both their swords break ; they alight, and with
main force Guy threw the Duke to the ground, that his bones did
crack.

Duke Rainer would revenge his cousin then, and for the en-
counter next of all prepares : "I see," quoth Guy, "that you are
less than men, that with a blow or fall are vexed so soon. But
come and welcome, I am ready for you. We say in England,
THE WEAKEST MUST GO TO THE WALL." Then they together
rushed, and shook the ground, whilst animating trumpets sound
the alarm. In Rainer's shoulder Guy made such a wound, that
he soon lost the use of his right arm ; who thereupon yielded
himself as vanquished.

Then, for a while, all stood amazed at Guy, none being for-
ward to encounter him, till Lovain's Duke resolved to try his
fortune, having good hope that he might better speed. Then
sitting fair on a proud steed that ill endured the bit, well mounted
and well armed, " I think," quoth he, " thou some enchanter art,
that in thine arm the force of magic hast." "I will teach thee to
believe ere I have done," quoth Guy, " for thou shalt feel that I
can charm. I will conjure with no other spell but iron, by which

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 347

I will send thee unto heaven or to hell." With that he gave him
such a cruel stroke, that he could but a weak reply return : then
with a second and a third he broke his helmet. With that,
" Hold, hold," cried he, " I have enough, I will rather yield than
die. Let them fight for a woman that desire it ; I think the
devil scarce can deal with thee."

Then not a man more would encounter him, they all were
terrified and stood in fear, and against Guy were all filled with
rage : " What," said they, " shall a stranger bear the honour of
this great day ? what cursed fortune is this, that he should have
the glory of the field ? " Amongst themselves they cursed his
happiness, and could have killed him, but that no man dared
put his own life in hazard by so doing. If wishes might have
done it, he had died ; but there was no man durst attempt to
fight him.

The Emperor then sent a knight for Guy, and asked his name,
and of his birth and country, which he told him. " Then," said
his Majesty, " I must commend thy haughty courage, resolutely
bold : brave Englishman, thou art thy country's pride : in Europe
lives not such another man. I do admire thy worth, great is thy
valour ; my tongue cannot suffice to speak thy praise. Ascend
to honour's just deserved seat, thou art a second Hector in mine
eyes. This day thy worthy hand has showed me more than in
my life before I ever saw. Come and receive thy due desert of
me ; my daughter's love is free at thy dispose ; the greyhounds,
steed, and falcon, take unto thee; thy worthiness does merit
more than these: hold, here is a jewel, wear it for my sake,
which shall be as a witness of my love."

Guy thanked his highness for his gracious favours, and vowed
him service whilst his life did last. Then to the Princess, with a
mild behaviour, he cast a reverent, humble, modest look, saying,
" Fair lady, fortune is my friend, that such a beauty to my lot
is given. Madam, accept your loyal English knight, to do you
service when you shall command it ; who, while he hath a drop
of blood to spend, will sacrifice it all on your behalf, against
whosoever shall dare to contradict you. Too high it is for me

34» THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

to be your husband ; it is enough to be your servant Guy. In
England doth my marriage-love remain, to whom I must and will
be true for ever ; about whose face, such pains hath nature took,
I durst have sworn, flesh never could have matched it. But now
I find, and ever shall acknowledge it, there is a phoenix in the
world besides her, and that is yourself : and I dare all mankind
to say one tittle that shall contradict it ; but which is fairest
there is no eye can tell ; no human judgment in the world can
try it, or positively say which hath most beauty, Blanch or my
fair bride. I dare be bold to call your beauties twins ; and that
compared unto either of you, Venus herself was but a black
Moor. Oh Phaelice ! here is thy picture in this Princess. Me-
thinks thou art present in her lovely looks. Thou that of my
soul's faculties art mistress, recorded in Time's brazen-leafed
book, if I to thee prove false, even in thought, and much more in
my actions, Jove's fearful vengeance light upon my head."

Quoth Blanch, " Thy constancy," and then she sighed, "is highly
to be praised, and thou applauded. He that Love's promise will
not faithfully keep, in horrors and in torments let him dwell.
But I suppose thy vows are vet unmade, and so what thy sword
won thy heart may take."

"Madam," said Guy, "what I avouch is true, and I dare call
even Heaven to witness it : my protestations are above the skies ;
and he who made them, knows I speak the truth. Madam, the
sun declines, and the day grows ancient, I will therefore humbly
take my leave of you, for now my body is to repose inclined,
although my troubled mind can take no rest ; my restless mind
is now in Warwick Castle, although my body be in Normandy.
Here I make others bend, but there I bow, and lie as low as the
humble ground ; even at Love's feet to the ground I cast myself.
Though victory my temples here have crowned, I cannot stay, I
must to England back. My mind misgives me that Phaelice is
not well. Like my sad thoughts, my armour shall be black, and
in a mournful iron shell it will suit me. For where the mind sus-
picious cares does meet with, distrust is ever dealing doubtful
snares. Yet I have much good fortune on my side, that know

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 349

the means how to attain my bliss ; for Phaelice ties her love to my
conditions, and she for this, I trust, will be my own. By this she
may, but if she more request, there is nothing in the world that I
will deny her."

With hasty journey therefore home he goes, leaving the vulgar
unto nine days' wonder. And being safe arrived on English
ground, he unto Phselice posted ; for too long he thought each
minute that he stayed away. And coming to her presence, he
beholds her with greater joy, and with more cheerful looks than
pen can write, or can by tongue be told.

What tongue can tell, what pen can write, how sweet
Are absent lovers' joys when once they meet.

CHAPTER VI.

How Guy returning to Warwick was received by Phcelice ; by
wJwni he was sent forth again to seek new adventures ; but
before he went destroyed a monstrous dun cow upon Dunsmore
Heath.

PHSELICE having received the news of Guy's arrival upon the
English shore, and of the mighty fame he had acquired, by all
the warlike deeds his hands had done, expected soon to see him
at her father's castle, preparing to receive him according to his
worth, and to the great affection she had for him. Nor did her
expectations fail her, for Guy made all the haste a man could
make, to lay the prize of all his glorious conquests at her feet.
Where being come, after salutes, and mutual embraces, Guy thus
bespoke her :

" Fair foe," said he, " I come to challenge thee ; for there is no
man that I can meet will fight me. I have been where a crew of
cowards are, but none that dare maintain the right of ladies ; good,
proper, and well spoken men, indeed, but let me win a Princess from
them all. Phaelice, this sword hath won an Emperor's daughter,
as sweet a wench as any lives in all Europe. I bought her at the
price of blood and wounds ; well worth my bargain : but thy better
face hath made me leave her to some other's lot ; for I protest,

350 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

by Heaven, I could not love her. This stately steed, this falcon,
and these hounds I took, as in full payment of the rest ; for I
have always kept my love to thee enclosed within the centre of
my heart. My constancy to thee I have still preserved, leaving
all other women as they are. But say, my Phaelice, shall I now
obtain thee ? wilt thou consent that Hymen tie our hands ? art
thou resolved to keep still to thy vow, that none but I shall ever
have thy heart? canst thou forsake the world, change thy con-
dition, and now become thy true and faithful lover's wife ? "

To whom fair Phselice thus replied again : " Know, worthy
knight, my joys have been enlarged at the report of thy great
deeds abroad : some were, I hear, in such a bloody sweat, their
valour, fame, and reputation bleeds. Therefore, my Guy, I give
thee humble thanks, that thou for me so much didst undergo, and
for my sake such hard adventures made. To win a Princess,
was a precious prize : but sure, methinks, if I Sir Guy had been,
she greater favour from me should have found than take a
horse, and turn a lady by. What ! is a horse, a falcon, and a
hound more worthy than so beautiful a lady ? Perhaps you will
say, it was done for love of me ; I do imagine, nay, believe it is :
and though I jest, I will do more for thee, than thou, or any but
myself doth know ; I will never marry while life's glass doth run,
but only to thyself. But, give me leave, my love, to speak my
mind ; let me lock up my secrets in thy breast. I had a vision
did affection move : Cupid came to me, whilst I slumbering lay,
and in my mother's name commanded me to love thee. And
whilst he was to this persuading me, an armed man just as I see
thee now, he set before my eyes, and thus he spake : ' Phaelice,
be gentle hearted, bow and yield, and do not the sovereign power
of love oppose ; but all thy loyalty, thy truth, and thy love, bestow
them freely on this matchless youth : throughout the world his
fame admired shall be; and mighty men shall tremble at his
wrath ; to end the quarrels of great kings shall he be often
courted. His worthiness no common path shall tread; but
actions to be feared he shall effect, and to pass bring things of
the greatest moment.' This, in effect, he did to me relate, and

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 351

to his will I have obedient been. Now how to hate thee if I
would, I know not : for I have of perfect kindness learned the
skill. Believe me, Guy, for if it were not thus, this secret of my
heart thou shouldst not know. But now, my love, before thou
dost possess thy constant Phaelice in her marriage bed, thou must
far greater and more worthy deeds perform than what thou hast
already done : the winning of a lady and her steed are but small
things to what thou yet must do. I will ever love thee, though
thou never dost more, but cannot grant the use of love till then."

Quoth Guy, " Not grant the use of love, fair Phaelice ! then I
perceive, I must again go travel and see what fate has for me
still to do. I will content thee, love, one way or other, and
either slay, or else be slain myself, ere I into this realm again
return ; and thou confess I have thy dream fulfilled. Assist me,
Heaven, as I sincerely mean, for I protest by all the powers
above, no unjust quarrel ever shall make me fight, nor yet to
wrong the wronged will I ever incline : for those that by oppres-
sion fall, I will stand ; in honour's cause my life I will freely ven-
ture. Come, my Bellona, my sword do thou girt on, and in thy
ivory arms embrace my armour, and such kind kisses as thou
canst afford bestow upon me in the stead of charms. Upon
Ulysses's loving wife I think, and how thou now her life doth
imitate. Farewell, my Phselice, health and happiness attend thee
to thy heart's desire for ever ; and like success I beseech God to
grant me, as I my love to thee shall keep entire. When war's
stern looks abroad I have performed, at my return Hymen will
make amends."

Unto Earl Roband next does Guy repair, and tells him he is
come to take his leave ; for he must go where honour finds him
work, and there receive the just rewards of virtue. " At home,
my honourable lord," said he, " I find that valour has no stage
for action, I will therefore search what is to be done abroad ;
from kingdom to kingdom I will go, and find out work, for no
good comes of idleness ; it only bringeth men up to sloth and
cowardice, and I hate cowards as I hate the devil."

To which the Earl returned, "Dear Guy, thou makest me

352 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

grieve at this sad news ; and more because thou hast disappointed
me. The news is more than I can well endure. I hoped I
should enjoy thy wished for company, and thou wouldest go no
more abroad ; and now thou speakest of new adventures. O !
change thy mind, brave Guy, and stay with me ; no longer trust
to fortune's treacherous smiles ; though now she hath so kindly
dealt with thee, yet she may leave thee to an unlucky hour, and
turn her many favours into frowns. O ! do not over rashly hazard
thy glory : lost honour is not easily got again."

To this Guy answered thus, "My noble Lord, that man of
dangers must not be afraid, that to adventures doth himself dis-
pose, but must supported be with resolution, and for his foes still
think himself too good. I will never fear I shall be overcome,
whilst I have hands to fight, or legs to stand. Therefore I will
leave your honour, wishing all health unto your happy state. If
fortune means to frown, yet she shall see that I will disdain her
hate. What star soever swayed when I was born, I have a mind
will laugh at all misfortunes."

The Earl perceiving him resolved to go, told him, " That he
would be no hindrance to his proceedings, and only would ask
one request of him before he went :" Guy told him, "Whatsoever
he asked that was within his power to perform, he should not be
denied." Then said the Earl, "It is this, that when you ate
once again come safe to England, you will go abroad no more,
but live at home with me." Which Guy having promised him,
prepared for his departure, and soon after took his leave, going to
the seaside, there to embark for France.

Being come there, and ready to embark, the wind proved con-
trary, and so continued for six days together ; during which time
fame through each corner of the land had made a mighty noise
of an exceeding great and monstrous cow, lurking within the
woods not many miles from Warwick, making most dreadful
devastations, destroying man and beast, and putting all their
keepers unto flight, being so mighty strong, that it was thought
not possible to destroy it ; and some affirm, that she was at least
four yards in height and six in length, and had a head propor-

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 353

tionable, with two sharp horns growing direct, with eyes resemb-
ling lightning for their fierceness ; and was of a dun colour, and
from thence named the dun cow ; and the place where she lay,
being on the borders of a great heath, was from thence called
Dunsmore Heath, which name it retains to this day.

Upon notice which was given to the King (who was then at
York) of the havoc and slaughter which was made by this
monstrous creature, he offered knighthood, and several other
privileges, to any one that would undertake to destroy it. But
such was the terror she had spread throughout the country, that
none was found so hardy as to adventure himself on such a
dangerous enterprise ; and the absence of Guy (who by this time
was supposed to be in France) was generally lamented; all
believing he would undertake it.

Guy (who was all this while waiting for a fair wind) hearing the
discourse of the country, and hating to be idle, resolved privately
to go and engage with this destroyer of his country; and so
taking his sword, a strong battle-axe, and his bow and quiver
with him, he rid incognito to the place where this monster used to
lodge, which was in a great thicket of trees, which grew on the
side of a heath, near a pool of standing water ; finding, as he rid
along, the cottages and houses everywhere thereabouts deserted,
and the carcases of men and beasts lie scattered round about ;
which filled him with great pity and compassion for his country,
and extreme resentment against that monstrous destroyer.

Being come at last within bow-shot of the place, the monster
espied him, and thrusting her head through the thicket, her
dreadful eyes were enough to fill any heart with terror but that of
the courageous Guy, who notwithstanding her horrid roaring soon
bent his bow of steel, and as he was one of the expertest archers
England then could boast of, drawing his arrow to the head, let
fly; which striking on the monster's hide, rebounded back as.
from an adamantine wall, without the least impression being made :
at which, whilst Guy was in some admiration, the dreadful beast,
swift as the eastern winds, came running towards him, with her
sharp pointed horns, aiming directly at him, which he observing,

354 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

lifted his battle-axe on high, and on the forehead struck her sucn
a blow as made her to recoil, and roar most hideously, and yet en-
raged more, she came on again ; and clapping her horns upon his
breast, dinted his armour, though of highest proof, before he could
avoid her, but wheeling his warlike steed about, he met her again,
and with redoubled strokes, gave her a desperate wound under
the ear, the only place she could be wounded in so sensibly ;
whereat she again roared, snorted, and stamped on the ground :
and by this, Guy perceiving she was mortal, followed that stroke,
with others no less forcible, by which at last she fell upon the
ground j and Guy, alighting from his horse, hewed her so long,
till with a horrid groan she breathed her last. Then leaving her
almost deluged in her own blood, he rid to the next town that
was inhabited, and there made known the monster's death, to
the great joy of the inhabitants : the people loaded him with
presents, and honoured him with thanks ; and all the country
came in to see that monster dead, which when alive they stood
so much afraid of.1

And, though Guy thought to get away before the King had
notice of it, yet fame was swifter far than Guy, and he was sent
for by the King before he could get on shipboard, and so was
forced to go to York ; where he was no sooner arrived, but the
King embraced him, and after a splendid entertainment he gave
him the order of knighthood, and many rich gifts, causing one of
the ribs of the said monster to be hanged up in Warwick Castle.
And Guy having departed from the King very well satisfied with
his entertainment, and the wind now serving, he goes on board to
seek fresh adventures in foreign lands.

Where he so many wondrous things did do,
As stagger'd faith, and nonpluss'd reason too.

1 To this adventure Butler alludes in his Hiidilras, when he describes Talgol the
butcher, " mortal foe to cows : "

" He many a boar and huge dun cow
Did, like another Guy, o'erthrow ;
But Guy with him in fight compared,
Had like the boar or dun cow fared ;
With greater troops of sheep he'd fought
Than Ajax, or bold Don Quixote,"

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 355

CHAPTER VII.

How Guy, willi Heraud and two of he?' knights, were assaulted by
sixteen villains that lay in ambuscade for him in a wood, whom
he destroyed; having killed two, and wounded the other of the
knights : and afterwards assisted the Duke of Lovain, who was
besieged by the Emperor, 6°<r.

Now Guy expects a favourable gale, and has it even to his heart's
desire, and with a speedy passage doth he sail to seek new adven-
tures once again in France, where finding none, from thence away
he goes to Lovain, where the Emperor besieged the Duke thereof,
because he had the misfortune to kill the Emperor's cousin, whom
he greatly loved, and therefore took his death exceeding ill ; and
thereupon a quarrel did arise, and wars ensued between two
mighty foes. Thither goes Guy to lend the Duke his aid. But
in the way a plot to take away his life was, by the false Duke
Otton, basely laid, although it was not effected ; for Guy so well
about him laid, that it succeeded not : the matter was, Otton
before in France by Guy disgraced, had vowed, wherever he met
him, he should die. And to that end, sixteen appointed were to
lie in ambush, that they might surprise him, who in a forest slily
hid themselves, and on a sudden all surrounded Guy, who only
was attended with three knights, and never before was Guy in
like distress. But seeing how it was, " Now, friends," said he,
"show yourselves right bred English gentlemen. Here is indeed
some odds, sixteen to three, but I,- the fourth, will stand you in
some stead ; you three shall combat six, that is two to one, and
leave the other ten alone to me." With that he drew his sword
and laid so about him, that in the air their rattling armour echoed,
and down they quickly dropped on every side. Guy quickly
made dispatch of his half score. But there remained half a
dozen more, who had slain two of his beloved knights, which he
no sooner knew, but straight he stamped upon the ground, and
with a fearful tone, he uttered forth these words : " Ah, villains !
how my soul abhors this sight ; for these how my revengeful

356 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

passions strive ! this bloody deed with blood I will repay ; you
die, though you had each a thousand lives. Two you have slain
outright and wounded Heraud, which is the last cursed act you
shall do." And then, with force almost exceeding all that human
arm could ever boast, he lays upon them blows which made them
reel, and quickly brought them breathless to the ground. At
length, cut all in piecemeals for the fowls : " Lie there," quoth
Guy, "and feast the hungry crows, or feed the savage beast that
hither come. But for these worthy gentlemen that have lost
their lives in the defence of me, and for my sake left England's
pleasant soil, them will I inter in honourable wise, with what
solemnity the place affords, and be myself a mourner at their
funeral."

From thence unto a hermit not far off he rid, and did with
care that charge to him commit, who did that office carefully per-
form, and bare home wounded Heraud to his cell, who was not
dead (though Guy supposed him slain), but quickly by the hermit
was recovered.

Now forth goes Guy, sad, pensive, and perplexed, grieving
that destiny had dealt so hardly, to take away his dearly beloved
company, and leave him as he travelled all alone, that none could
ease the torments of his mind. But in his lonely solitary travel,
at last his fortune brought him to a place that was for honour
very much renowned, and there he met with tilts and tournaments,
which entertained him with delight and glory. And there kind
fortune gave him her consent to win the prize from every valiant
knight ; of all the worthy men that hither came, not one could
match him in Duke Reyner's court.

Then to the Duke of Milan he repairs, where he is admired of
all for his great worth ; and understanding some affairs of weight
fell out betwixt Duke Segwin of Lovain, and the Emperor, he
from the Duke of Milan went his way, and forthwith took his
journey to Lovain. But as he passed through the way, he met a
pilgrim that with travel seemed faint, whom he greets, and with
some news entreats him to refresh his longing ear. He with a
sigh or two, said : " Sir, with news I have but little business ;

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 357

there is but one thing in the world I care for, and only that and
nothing else I mind : I in despair do seek a man, because I have
long sought, but cannot find him ; a man more to me than all
the men in the world beside."

"Thou speakest," said Guy, "like one that hast some grati-
tude. But tell me, pray, what man art thou ? And what is he
for whom thou hast expressed so great a kindness ? "

" I am an Englishman, of knight's degree," quoth Heraud,
" and the subject of my grief is the loss of one Sir Guy, my
countryman."

Guy then, with tears of joy, embraces him : " And art thou
living, Heraud, my dear friend ? " said Guy, and kindly took him
in his arms. " Then here I bid my sorrows all adieu ; pray, who
thy wounds did cure ? "

Heraud, no less surprised with joy and wonder to find Sir Guy
his countryman again, cried out, " And have I found thee thus,
my friend ! my pains and travel have been well rewarded. It
was the good old hermit that saved me, by the medicine he
applied." Then each embraced and both renewed their joys at
this so good and happy meeting. No angry star with inauspicious
rays befell them then, but both were well content.

Then, mounting on their steeds, they bend their course, with
easy pace, unto Duke Lovain's court, where they his city find
in great distress, straitly besieged by the Emperor's forces. But
Segwin was extremely satisfied that worthy Guy was come unto
his aid ; " for now," quoth he, " I dare be bold to say we have
an honourable valiant man : advise me, warlike knight, what is
to be done to free me from the danger I am in ? "

" My lord," quoth Guy, " great as the danger seems, myself
will find a way to set you free : let us presently upon them issue
forth ; our courage will make the cowards fly."

" The counsel," quoth the Duke, " I do approve, and to thy
project give my free consent. Let life, limb, blood be lost, I will
follow thee. So let all do that come to me in love."

Then suddenly they rush out of the city, and on the Almains
suddenly set, where they did such a bloody slaughter make that

358 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

many thousand lives were soon cut off : of thirty thousand that
besieged the town, there scarce was three thousand that escaped.

The Emperor at this was much perplexed, but with new forces
gave a fresh assault, as knowing well they could not be relieved,
and so their strength must weaken by degrees. And therefore
coming with a new supply, believed he in short time might famish
them. Guy and the Duke appear upon the walls, and tell him,
" he shall never win the town, for they can spare his soldiers what
provision they can desire," and so flung down abundance of vic-
tuals from the walls, and withal told them, " That if they wanted
he could spare them more." " And now," quoth Guy, " that we
have fed your bodies, I hope your stonlachs will be up to fight ;
but I am afraid you are not rightly bred, but like some dunghill
cocks, will crow and run away. But still, when cowards do a
fray begin, before the battle ends away they run, and so your-
selves have lately done, we see. Your tongues we heard, but
could not feel your hands ; your words were hot, but actions cool
enough ; though I confess your heels are wondrous nimble. We
did believe that when you first came hither we should have found
you men of strength and courage, but, having tried you, find it is
no such matter, unless you could surprise us while we sleep ; for
waking we will encounter one for ten, and never wished to have
a better match. And if you can do better, let us see it ; there-
fore prepare, for we will be with you presently." And then upon
their foes forthwith they flew, fighting like men that laughed pale
Death to scorn ; for they resolved they would their city free or
never live to see another morning. Much blood was shed, and
many lives it cost ; but in the end the Almains lost the day. The
Duke, with Guy, swiftly pursued their foes, who, like so many
hares, fled away.

The victors to the city back repaired, with trophies of the glory
they had gained, and all that heard the action much admired the
great exploit so resolutely done. But unto Guy the Duke returned
his thanks; "For thou," quoth he, "art Caesar of our field."

" My lord," quoth Guy, " I take not so much joy that I have
by my sword your freedom wrought, as I should glory, if it were

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 359

my hap to make the Emperor and you good friends. Give me
but leave, and I will do my endeavour, and put good will to a
blunt soldier's wit."

The Duke consented, and desires Sir Guy to take a guard of
soldiers from the town.

Then Guy forthwith went to the Emperor, and being by his
officers conducted into his presence, he bespeaks him thus :

"All health to your imperial majesty, and peace to thee, if
thou to us say peace ; and love to thee, if thou wilt love embrace.
As we are Christians, let us war no more, but fight against those
that are foes to Heaven. We do not sue thee in a servile manner,
as fearing any force or power thou hast ; for victory on our side
displays its banner, and to our view yields a delightful prospect ;
no cause doth move us but the cause of conscience, to bring the
heathen to religion's law : and therefore now, most noble Emperor,
declare thy mind. Shall we be Christian foes, or Christian friends ?
shall we among ourselves divide the name, or challenge them that
have that name denied ? "

Guy having ended what he had to say, the Emperor to him
made this reply :

"Brave Englishman, hadst thou spoke thus before, thousands
had lived, that now the sword has slain ; but those must in the
bowels of the earth remain, until the general resurrection : but,
for the future, wars betwixt us shall cease, and I will embrace
thee as my friend. Thy motion, honoured knight, to honour tends,
and thou shalt live in fame's immortal praise ; and when thou art
buried in eternal night, thy name unto the end of days shall last."

"Come, go, great Prince," quoth Guy, "into the town, and
with Duke Segwin there a league renew. Our end shall be to
pull down pagans, those foes to religion."

The Emperor being brought by Guy into the city, the Duke of
Lovain from his castle came, and after mutual salutations past,
the Emperor was conducted to the castle, where, by the mediation
of Sir Guy, there was a league between them soon concluded, to
the great joy of all the people; which was, with feasting and
rejoicing, welcome on every side.

360 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

CHAPTER VIII.

•How after Guy had made peace between the Emperor and the
Duke of Lovain, he was furnished with two thousand men,
and ten ships of war, for the relief of Bizantium ; and
being scattered from the rest of the fleet, is set upon by three
pirates, two of which he destroys and forces the third to fly.

GUY having thus accomplished his end of making peace between
two contenders, the Emperor and the Duke of Lovain, they both
entreat Guy to stay amongst them, to enjoy that peace he had
procured. But by no means could they prevail upon him. He
was for seeking out new scenes of action, but would no more
employ his arms against Christians ; and therefore earnestly en-
treated them to furnish him with forces to go against the faithless
Saracens, who had broke in upon the Grecian empire, and besieged
Bizantium. They both agreed, and left it to himself to take what
force he thought sufficient, and they would furnish him with all
things necessary for the war. Guy, after having returned thanks
to both for their kind and generous offer, assured them he would
so employ their forces as should be for the honour of all Christen-
dom. And thereupon immediately selected two thousand of the
choicest soldiers present; one of the Emperor's forces, and the
other of them belonging to the Duke of Lovain, who with equal
willingness went with him, as proud of being those whom he had
chosen. Next, he embarked them on ten ships of war, and then
took leave of the Emperor and the Duke, promising, that at his
return he would present them with such trophies and evidences
of his soldiers' courage as the fortune of war should yield him :
and so departed with a prosperous gale.

Guy being now ploughing the briny ocean, almost a month,
and meeting no adventure, thought fortune dealt a little hardly
by him. But by a wind, common enough to those that sail upon
the Lovain seas, disjoined from his fleet, she gave him new occa-
sion for his valour ; for he was met by three Turkish men of war
(and three to one you will say is odds at football), who being of

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 361

the Sallee rovers, supposed they had got a prize, as judging him
a merchantman, and thereupon came boldly up, thought straight
to have boarded him ; which Guy perceiving, could not choose
but smile, and tell his men they had now an occasion to exercise
their valour, and thereupon drew out his flaming sword, so often
tried in war, and charged on the assailing infidels with such a
martial fury, that Mars himself could hardly have done more,
glutting the gaping jaws of hungry Death, not only cutting down
the men, but also spoiling all their shrouds and tackle ; whilst
valiant Heraud, and the rest remained not idle on the other side ;
for they having prepared hemp, tar, resin, and other like com-
bustible materials, set them on fire, and threw them into the
Turk's ship that engaged them : this was a stratagem till then
unknown ; which catching hold of the decks, masts, and rigging,
soon set the ship on fire, which they being utterly unable to
extinguish, soon quit their flaming castle, and rather chose to
perish in the ocean ; which the other ships beholding, and being
much surprised to meet with such resistance, now found too late
they had caught a tartar, and so hoisted their sails, preparing to
be gone ; which one of them had the good hap to do, but Guy
resolving to make sure of the other, so closely grappled with her,
that he soon leapt on board her, and there made such a slaughter,
that all the deck was covered with the carcases of those that fell
as victims to his sword ; which so amazed the Turks, that they
cried in vain to Mahomet to come and save them from those in-
human devils that assaulted them. But although Mahomet knew
nothing of the matter, yet Guy, out of compassion, spared their
lives. Then putting forty of his men on board, he sent the ship,
with the remaining prisoners, to his friend the Duke, as the first
fruits of what his valour purchased. No sooner had this brisk
engagement ended, but Guy's nine ships came up with him again,
which had by reason of a fog been separated from him. And the
night coming on, Guy ordered they should stand off to the south-
east, for fear of running fowl upon the rocks, too often met with
in those parts.

No sooner was the longed for morning come, but from the

362 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

main topmast, a seaman calling unto Guy, told him, he made
the land ; which ere the sun had run out half his race, the whole
ship's crew beheld as well as he. And as unto the land they
nearer drew, they could discover famed Bizantium's shore, which
then was by the Turks and Saracens infested almost round. Guy
thereupon ordered his forces to be landed at the next convenient
harbour, and from thence sent Heraud with two other captains, to
learn, if possible, how things then stood, both with respect to the
besieged, and the besiegers. In five hours' time Heraud returned
again, and from a Turk whom they had met without, and taken
prisoner, they understood the city was besieged by fifty thousand
men, who were most Turks and Saracens, and that it had been
so for three months' time, but that it was defended by the Chris-
tians, commanded by Albertus, a very worthy Saxon.

This news was very welcome unto Guy, who now thought he
had a fair opportunity to show his valour, and serve the Christian
interest, by the destruction of the infidels. And there he imme-
diately despatched Heraud his trusty friend, and one knight more,
unto the Lord Albertus, to let him know that he was come from
Germany, and lay ready now in such a port, with two thousand
Christians under his command, ready to serve him ; and if he
would in the evening make a sally out at the gate that looks
towards the sea, he would be ready with his men to force his
way through the enemy's camp, and join him, and so come into
the city to assist him.

Heraud and his companion undertook to deliver this message
to Albertus ; and by the help of Turkish habits, passed all the"
guards, without the least suspicion ; and coming to the gates, de-
clared they had a message to Albertus, whereupon they were let
in, and straight conducted to the castle, where Albertus and his
chief officers were sitting in council of war, to whom after due
reverence paid, they gave an account of their business ; but having
declared this only by word of mouth, Albertus and his officers
seemed somewhat doubtful, as not knowing but it might be a
stratagem, contrived by the enemy, to take the city ; but when
Heraud had delivered Albertus a letter under Guy's own hand, to

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 363

whose great fame for martial deeds Albertus was no stranger, they
quickly changed their sentiments, and treated them as they de-
served, for such a welcome message, to which they gave a ready
and cheerful compliance ; entertaining them with all imaginable
civility and kindness, promising not to fail sallying out at the time
and gate appointed. Heraud and his friend returning back to
Guy, acquainted him with all that passed, who being very joyful
that things succeeded so well, landed his men with all imaginable
silence and dexterity, drawing them up in battalia upon the shore,
and giving orders to those that continued on board, to stand off
at sea, till he should signify his pleasure to them to come into
harbour. After which he marched towards the city with all the
privacy and silence that could be. But for all his caution the
enemy had perceived them and taken the alarm ; so that, gather-
ing together from all quarters, they were ready to receive him :
Guy, no wit discouraged, made a short speech to his soldiers,
telling them of the goodness of their cause, and the assistance
they should have from their friends in the city, bid them fall on
undauntedly, and the day was their own : upon which they gave
a great shout, and Guy, drawing his flaming sword, fell on his foes
with such undaunted fury, that they soon bore down all that were
before them ; so that wherever they came, the mangled bodies of
their foes overspread the crimson plain. Guy, with redoubled
blows, slaughtering wherever it was he turned himself : thus the
dispute continued for more than two hours' space ; in which Guy
had so well improved his time, that he and his small forces, with
the assistance of three thousand from the city, who sallied out
according to their promise, had destroyed almost thirty thousand
men. So that the Pagan army, rinding themselves thus worsted
on all sides, retreated to their camp in much confusion ; which
filled the Soldan with revengeful thoughts, which he resolved
forthwith to execute ; and presently after gave orders to his soldiers,
early next morning, to assault the city, which he supposed, wearied
with the last night's fatigue, would scarce be able to make much
resistance. Guy suffered their retreat that night, not thinking
it convenient to pursue them, and with his soldiers entered the

364 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

town, where, by Albertus and his officers, and all the citizens
beside, he and his men were joyfully received, and kindly wel-
comed. Albertus in his arms embracing Guy, conducted him to
his own lodgings, and kindly thanked him for his brave assistance ;
then gave him a most noble treat, where they drank healths to the
Emperor, and all the German Princes, to whom Sir Guy professed
himself a subject ; whom they thought happy above other Princes,
in having such a subject as Sir Guy. And after they had ate and
drank sufficiently, they all retired to rest their weary limbs, after
the great fatigue they had undergone.

Early next morning, as the Soldan ordered, the army was pre-
pared for the assault, the drums all rattling, and the trumpets
sounding ; at which the army gave so great a shout, as made the
hills resound the echo back, the noise whereof awaked our warlike
Guy from the sweet sleep which he till then had taken ; who,
rising, straight ascended to the tower, and there beheld the army
of the enemies, who, with their scaling ladders, were marching
towards the walls. Then he instantly gave order unto Heraud
to get his forces in readiness ; which being done, he turned to
Albertus, and bespoke him thus : " My lord, the honour of all
Christendom lies now at stake, and therefore it concerns us now to
make a brave defence. They intend to scale our walls ; but in my
opinion, we had much better meet them in their march, without
the walls, than tarry for them here. Our forwardness will bring a
damp upon them, and quite confound and break their measures
too : fortune does always favour bold attempts : and victory, you
see, has on our side declared herself already; which will both
encourage our soldiers and dishearten those of our enemies."

Albertus readily approved of what Sir Guy had said, commend-
ing his high courage, and rendering thanks to Heaven, that had
sent so stout a champion to defend the town. And then, because
the enemy was near, each went to their respective posts in order to
attack them : and opening the gates, all sallied out to meet them,
according to the order Guy proposed; he with his Germans
marching in the front. By this bold march of theirs to meet them,
the enemy started, and believed they should have harder work

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 365

of it than they thought of: and therefore, throwing down their
scaling engines, they put themselves into battalia; which Guy
perceiving, gave orders to his archers in the front to begin
first, who, drawing their strongbows, poured in amongst them
such a shower of arrows as almost darkened the sun itself, and,
galling the Turkish horse, put them into disorder; whereupon
Guy and Heraud broke into the main body, killing and wound-
ing all that durst oppose them, still pressing them both to the
right and left, with nights of arrows, which struck a mighty terror
into the infidels. The Bizantines, led by Albertus, and encouraged
by the warlike Guy, in a short time routed the left wing of the
enemy; while Guy fought the main body, hewing the Pagans
down on every side, and like the hand of fate dealt death at every
blow ; until at last, he came to the squadron by Colbron led, one
of the Pagans' generals; who being newly to the battle come,
began to wonder at the mighty havoc that Guy had made in the
army; and therefore, coming forwards towards Guy, he, in his
haughty way, spoke to him thus : " Thou makest a show of
valour, I perceive ; but if thou any real valour hast, let us have
a little sport between thee and I, only to see which of our swords
cuts best : thou hast a weapon there that is much too small, and
is, methinks, too blunt to make one bleed." — " Too blunt ? " said
Guy, " I tell thee, Pagan, thou shalt find it otherwise : I will whet
it, ere we part, upon thy bones, and make thee quickly tell another
tale. If it should fail me now, I should much wonder, for it has
never failed me yet, I am sure ; but often cut such lubbers down
as thou art. Come, art thou ready ? Bid thy friends adieu, for
thou art never like to see them more/'' Then did they lend each
other such hard blows, that sparks of fire did from their helmets
fly : the numerous Pagans round about them flock, expecting all
in the end the death of Guy; for Colbron was not only very
strong, but had been long time champion to the Pagans. At
length Guy gave him such a blow, that down comes Colbron and
his strength to the ground. "Pagan," said Guy, "is my sword
sharp, or no ? For even now thou blamedst it as too blunt : rise
up, for if thou canst not feel thy legs, off goes thy head, as sure

366 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

as this is steel;" and thereupon he gave him such a blow, as
forthwith made him shorter by the head ; which, when the amazed
infidels beheld, they were with wonder all astonished ; for they
so confident of Colbroii were, they durst have ventured goods,
and life, and limb, on any combat that by him was fought.

Then Heraud (to give Guy some breathing time) challenged
a Pagan, called Elendant, and dared and defied him to his face
(for valiant Heraud did no courage want). The Pagan, some-
what hot, with fury filled, engaged Heraud, and soon was over-
come, and to the lake below sent after Colbron : then Guy unto
another champion goes, Morgade called, whom Guy so well be-
laboured, he quickly sent him after his two fellows : the Pagans
seeing thus their champions slain, forsook the field, and fled unto
their camp. Where when they came, they told all to the Soldan ;
who, filled with rage, and cursing all his gods, ordered his troops
to rally once again ; which, when they durst not do for fear of
Guy, the Soldan rather than not be revenged, sent Guy a formal
challenge, demanding him to fight a single combat with him ;
and by the event of that to end the war. Guy joyfully accepted
of his terms ; and all things being ready for the combat, they
both met with such martial rage and fury as even made the earth
itself to quake ; the Soldan being prompted by despair, and Guy
courageous for the Christians' honour, redoubled on him such
resistless blows, as made his gilded armour soon give way; and
by that means Guy quickly found a passage to his heart, which
so soon as with his trusty sword he had pierced, not able longer
to support himself, cursing his gods, the Soldan fell down dead.
This fatal sight being seen by Eskeldort, a bloody and tyrannic
Turkish Prince, he straightway vowed revenge, and rides up armed
to the place where Guy then stood; "Villain," quoth he, "whom like
a dog I hate, I will make thee curse the time that thou wast born :
know, therefore, I am come to fetch thy head ; for to my mistress
I have promised it. My dogs shall feed upon thy English flesh ; they
must devour thy body every bit. Come, I have vowed by Mahomet
thou diest. Thy trusting in thy Saviour shall not save thee."
"And thou hast given away my head," said Guy, "unto a lady?

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 367

It is a noble gift. An honest man will do what he has said, and
never promise more than he designed. Come on thy ways, and
take it quickly off, or else the lady will suppose you jeer her."

Then straight with disdain they rush together, laying on as hard
as they could drive ; but Guy's keen sword did so hew Eskeldort,
that for his head he durst no longer strive ; but on a sudden, for
to save his own, puts spurs to his horse, and in all haste is gone.

After this rout, the plunder of the field was by the victors taken ;
and then Guy returns in warlike triumph to the city, where they
received him with the greatest pomp and truest joy, that they
knew how to show ; while as he rid triumphant through the
streets, the people, from the houses' tops and windows, threw
garlands clown before him, and strewed hrs way with flowers,
echoing along the streets, " Long live brave Guy, the noble and
renowned English champion, our fortunate and great deliverer : "
in memory whereof, they afterwards set up his statue in the market-
place, which has been since destroyed by the Turks.

Guy, after this deliverance of the city, having been treated as
he well deserved, stayed with Albertus there about ten days, and
then desired to return to England ; and leaving half his men there,
as Albertus had requested him, that to the city they might be a
guard, he with the rest embarked on his ships, and, with great
presents, sailed back for Germany.

Thus having wrought the Pagans' overthrow,
He made the world his worth and valour know.

CHAPTER IX.

How Guy, being in a Forest, seeing a Lion and a Dragon fighting,
took the Lion's part, and killed the Dragon : also how Guy
and Heraud found Earl Terrey wounded, and his Lady taken
front him by sixteen villains, most of whom he killed, and re-
stored the Lady to Jier Husband.

GUY and his ships, being becalmed at sea, put into harbour to
refresh themselves, where Guy and his friend Heraud went

368 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

ashore; and it so happening that a pleasant forest lay bordering
near the place they landed at, they entered it, and walked a little
way, to see if they could light of any venison ; observing, as they
went, how shady trees embraced each other in their green-leafed
arms, and how famed echo keeps her dwelling there, and little
birds there fearless sing their notes ; they chanced to find a silver
streaming spring, which there they looked on as a rarity; and
with those crystal streams they cooled their heats, and quenched
that thirst they had so long endured ; and there to satisfy their
craving stomachs, they made of herbs and roots a pleasant meal :
when, on a sudden, an unusual noise (which seemed to be at no
great distance off) invades their listening ears ; but it resembled
most a lion roaring. " Hark, hark," said Guy, "I am almost
affrighted at this strange uncouth noise. Heraud, let us straight
take horse, that we may be prepared for all events : I never heard
a sound that scared me more in all my life. I will go seek it out.
It comes from yonder way : some monster, some devil makes this
noise, for it is no human voice, for certain." So forth he rides,
and underneath a hill he finds a dragon fighting with a lion.
" O ! this is princely sport, indeed," said Guy ; " fight on, that I
may see who gets the day, and then I will set upon the con-
queror." The dragon winds his crooked knotted tail about the
lion's legs, to throw him down ; but then the lion fastened on his
scales, and nimbly did avoid the fall intended him. Then both
with the utmost fury bite and tear, and so maintain a long and
bloody fight. At last the lion fainted, turns aside, and looks
about, as if he would be gone. "Nay, then," quoth Guy, "lion,
I will take thy part, and execute my vengeance on this dragon."
With that courageously to work he goes, and with the dragon
carries on the fight, giving him blows with all his might and
strength, and yet cannot penetrate his scaly sides. The monstrous
beast displays his flaggy wings, and with most dreadful yelling
at him comes ; whose very looks might make a man afraid, so
terrible seemed his devouring jaws ; wide, gaping, grisly, like the
mouth of hell ; more terrible than pen or tongue can utter ; his
blazing eyes burning like living fire; and from his gorge sulphureous

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 369

smoke he belched ; aloft his speckled crest he mounted, higher
than Guy could reach at length of weapon's stroke. Thus in
most ireful mood he bore himself, crying as loud as watery
billows roar. And then his mortal sting he stretched out, ex-
ceeding far the sharpest point of steel ; then turns and winds his
scaly tail about the horse's legs : with that, Guy hews upon him
with his blade, and laid on him three men's strength at every
stroke ; one fatal blow he gave him in his side, from whence did
issue streams of swarthy blood ; the sword had made the passage
wide and broad, so that like a flood the gore overspread the
ground, which made the dragon turn to have forsook him. " Nay,
then," quoth Guy, "thou hast not long to live; I see thou
faintest, and ready art to fall." Then did he give him such a
parting blow, that down the dragon came unto the ground ;
roaring and bellowing at such a rate, that the hideous sound did
more affright the conqueror than did his fighting with him ; so
he rides away, and lets the monster lie. But looking back, he
espies, behind his horse, the rescued lion following at his heels,
which made Guy alight to engage with him likewise. But when
the beast beheld his weapon drawn, he fawned upon him like a
spaniel dog ; and like that grateful lion which did save Andronicus,
for pulling out a thorn, when by the laws he was condemned to
be devoured by beasts upon the amphitheatre, the lion came,
remembering his old kindness, and fawned upon him, and licked
him, very kindly bearing, it seems, an old good turn in mind.
Just so, this grateful lion dealt with him, for the same benefit
which he had done, by saving him from the fierce and poisonous
dragon. For though a lion is by nature cruel, as being a ravenous
and devouring beast, yet, like a spaniel, he by his horse did run,
and till he did again embark, stayed with him.

But the wind serving in a little time, Guy and his friend em-
barked again, and so pursued their voyage, and in Almain arrived
in a short time ; and there, according to his worth and merit, was
entertained by the Emperor, who bid him kindly welcome into
Christendom, and entertained him with a tournament, with kingly
banquets, and with princely revelling ; all striving to behold that

2 A

370 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

mighty man, of whose great actions fame so loudly spoke ; and
of whose wondrous acts they had heard so much, and thought
they could not do him too much honour.

But, taking leave of the Emperor and the rest, he travels to his
old friend the Duke of Lovain, whom he had a particular respect
for, and did above all others long to see. But, ere unto his
journey's end he came, he met with an adventure by the way,
and set a worthy wronged lady free, who forcibly was taken from
her love, arid he at the point of death, left sorely wounded. Of
which take this following account.

The noble Terrey, a right valiant Earl, with his dear love,
surnamed Osile the Fair (his precious and inestimable jewel),
to take th6 air into the forest went, wherein a plot was laid to
take away his life, that so another might enjoy his love. And on
a sudden sixteen villains came upon the Earl arid sadly wounded
him: "Sirrah," said one, "thou hast a wench we claim; she
must go with us ; lie upon the ground, and if thou livest till thou
canst see a passenger, beg him to make a grave to bury thee."
Guy, finding Terrey in this Wretched case, and hearing how his
wife was ravished from him, administered what comfort he was
able. He with the loss of blood looked pale and wan, and almost
ready was to die indeed. " Come, courage, noble Earl," said GUy
to him; "I will do my best to fetch thy love again, or else say,
Guy is but a boasting coward." When Terrey heard the mention
of that name, he straight revived, for of his worthy deeds fame
had before sufficiently acquainted him. Then striving to arise
from off the ground, he did his best endeavour to embrace him :
"Thanks, gracious Heaven," qUoth he, "with soul and heart, for
sending such a man to right my wrongs." — " Which is the way,"
said Guy, " those villains went ? " " The path by yonder oak,"
said woful Terrey. " I will follow them," said Guy, "and, by my
knighthood, I will hlake each man come off by weeping cross."
Scarce had he spoke, before he heard a shriek, which Terrey knew
to be the fair Osile's. Away rid Guy, and, by that sound directed,
hev quickly found the barbarous villains out. Coming to them,
"Wretched slaves," quoth he, "what is your design with this fair

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 371,

lady here ? Enlarge her presently and set her free. You have
done wrongs which you must dearly pay for : her husband
wounded, and she used with violence, are crimes which all your
lives can scarce atone for." With that they laughed, and said,
" What fool is this, or rather madman, in his desperate mood, that
fain by wilful death would get a name, and have the world report
he hath been kind ? Some frantic fit this fellow is surely in, that
means to fight thus without fear or wit." — "If it be so," quoth
Guy, "that fit is now ori me, and you will find it will be a raging
one." With that, Sir Guy, knitting his angry brow, bid the fair
lady cease her pensive moans, " For you shall from these villains'
hands be freed." Then, with a courage admirably bold, at every
blow some one or other dies : which when the lady saw, she
straight cried out : " O pity, worthy knight, these mortal wounds.
It is a sight I can no longer bear ; be hot so bloody in revenging
me. Upon my knees, I humbly do entreat thee, for it is to me a
terrifying sight. O ! with their lives thou takest mine away. If one
more do die, my soul will faint and leave me. Thou worthily my
honour hast defended, and hast enough revenged all my wrongs."

"Lady," said Guy, "at your request I cease. Depart, base
rascals, all but two begone." — "But, villains," said he to the two
remaining, "it was you that did this virtuous lady bind," and
thereupon he gave each such a blow, having his sword put up
withia its scabbard* that to the ground they fell immediately.
Then, rising from the ground, they thus excused it : " My lord,
we did it to preserve her for your honour's use."

Then on his steed he let the lady ride^ to seek her lord, whom
she distressed left ; and Guy became her guide urito the place j
where, when they came, they found him dressed already; for
in their absence there cattle by a hermitj which to his bleeding
wounds did salve apply. Now Terrey arid Osile abound in joy,
and gratefully to Guy do all things give. " Be tho'u/' said they,
"renowned in life arid death, whom while we live and breathe we
will always honour."

" Nay, here's my hand," quoth Terrey, " worthy Guy,
To fight fof thee, I will be proud to die."

372 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

CHAPTER X.

How Guy and Heraud travelled with Earl Terrey, and hearing his
father was besieged by Duke Otton, went to relieve him ; and
how Guy killed Duke Otton in single combat, and raised the
siege.

THE light had now surrendered its dominion, and darkness ruled
in all the lower world, when Earl Terrey, Guy, and fair Osile,
wanting a guide through the unfrequented woods, heard the
affrighting noise, on every side, of savage beasts that thirst for
human blood. On every side a watchful eye they cast, lest on a
sudden they should be surprised. At length they did espy two
armed men, who listened to those cries as well as they, each
having in his hand his naked sword. But, as they came nearer,
Guy quickly knew the one of them was his dear friend Sir Heraud,
and the other was as dear a friend of Terrey's, who by embracing
did their gladness show. And when the Earl demanded of his
cousin, what brought him to that lonely desert place? " My
lord," said he, " I have unpleasing news, which yet in duty I am
bound to tell : thy noble father is at this time besieged in his
strong castle by Duke Otton's power, who hath protested by a
solemn vow, that he about his ears will pull it down. And in
revenge that thou hast got his love, he swears thy father's life
shall not escape."

" His love ! " quoth Terrey, " speak, my fair Osile, acquaint
this worthy man with thy soul's thought. Did I persuade thee ever
to break thy faith, or been an instigator unto aught that is un-
righteous in the sight of Heaven ? " " Never/' said she j " thou
hast been truly just in all thy words, and all thy actions too : that
wretch, indeed, pretended that he loved me, and would have
forced my love away from thee. But to my dying day I will be
thine : thou shalt enjoy me all the hours I live ; and when I alter
this determination, may I be held accursed by God and man."

" Spoke like a virtuous lady," Guy replied ; " be ever constant,
and thou needest not fear : nothing can lay a blemish on thy

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 373

honour, whilst thou on love's foundation firmly standest. It is
for love I range the world about, and every hour expose my life
to dangers, and though an unknown stranger, am love's exile.
But wherefore, Terrey, are thy looks so sad ? Thou has thy love
in person to embrace ; but mine, alas ! is far off as England, and
for some years I have not seen her face."

•"My lord," said Terrey, "know you not my grief, and heard
this messenger relate the cause ? My father is in distress, and
wants some succour; and I should be a rebel to the laws of
nature, not to sympathise with him, making his trouble a just
cause of sorrow."

" If that be all," said Guy, " thou art to blame to spend so
much as one poor sigh thereon. My name is enough to terrify
Duke Otton. Let him but hear I come, and he will be gone.
Something that passed between us is the reason of it : in France
he felt my sword, but did not like it. Since that he laid a plot
against my life by villains that surprised me in a wood ; which
treachery with vengeance I repaid : and who ever knew a traitor's
end prove good ? A curse is always the concomitant of base and
wicked actions, in which the actors will be sure to suffer, as did
Perillus first in his brazen bull. I will go with thee to relieve thy
father; for the oppressed I have vowed to right. And reason
now does much more strongly move it, since mine own wrongs
urge me as well as thine. Therefore with speed let us hasten to
the place, preventing mischief ere it run too far. Take time by
the forelock, for he is bald behind, and good proves best when it
is soonest done. Go then, with filial joy, like brave ^Eneas, and
fetch thine old Anchises out of Troy."

"Courageous knight," quoth Terrey, "thy bold heart, I do
perceive, can with no fear be daunted : thou art composed of
Mars's element, and made of powerful limbs, to manage arms ;
my melancholy thou hast banished quite, and with strong hope
armed me instead of it."

This said, in haste away they post themselves, and in a short
time came unto the castle where proud Duke Otton and all his
forces lay, relying much upon his well paid soldiers: but when

374 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

his Captains of Guy's coming knew, they fled by night, and never
bid farewell. This was discouragement unto the soldiers, to find
their Captains had deserted them. But yet Duke Otton solemnly
protested, though each man in the castle were a Guy, he would
not basely quit his enterprise ; " For though life is dear," said he,
"yet honour is dearer."

"Terrey," quoth Guy, "we must not now be tedious. For my
experience oft hath been my tutor, and taqght me, that when an
advantage offers, and gives me an occasion to begin, the enemy's
own fear subdues himself, to which our force being added soon
completes our victory. We will not make our prison in this place,
as long as there is field room to be got. And since the Duke
has no respect for me, it is my desire alone to combat him. But
if you will not leave this castle here, I will leave you all, and
go myself alone." And with these words, Heraud and he were
going to depart, which, when the castle soldiers did perceive,
giving a shout said they, " Thou art our general, and wheresoever
thou goest we will follow thee : thy honourable steps we will not
leave, let fortune use us as she pleases."

Thus, full of courage, they all march along, giving the onset,
fearless of their enemies, making those multitudes that seemed
invincible to fly before their brave victorious foes, leaving the
most part slaughtered in the field. But when the Duke beheld
his flying soldiers, " Perish," said he, " base villains ! here I will
die I Where is this Englishman that haunts my coast, and thus
pursueth me from place to place ? I challenge him to leave the
army, and meet me face to face, that we may have an end of all
old grudges."

"Agreed," quoth Guy, -proud foe, I give consent. Repent
thy wrongs, and make thy conscience dear \ for thou hast lived
to see thy honour lost, which worthy men dp hold most dear of
all things. The noble-minded brand that man with shame, that
lets his name and honour die before him." Then they towards
each other did approach, and with great violence they lances
broke ; which being done, they tqok their swords in hand, and
fought until they had spent great store of blood ; for envy did

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 375

the Duke's keen weapon whet, and on Guy's sword revenge did
set an edge. At length, through loss of blood, the Duke fell
down, and dying cried, " Farewell, vain world, farewell : by
fortune's angry frown I am betrayed ; by sad experience now,
I tell the world there is nothing constant that the earth contains ;
death brings the proudest monarchs to their graves, and lays them
level with the humblest swain. Bewitching vanities seduce and
blind us ; and greatness only tends to make us proud, making
our sad catastrophe the greater. There is no peace like to a
happy ending : my dying hour yields more repenting grace than
in my life J ever could attain tp." His immortal squl (lid with
these words depart, and left the breathless body where it dwelt,
while woful passions did Guy's heart afflict, now wishing Otton
were again alive (for true humility still shows compassion, to see
the afflicted overborne with woes). Guy sheathed his sword, and
said, " Remain thou there, until on England's happy shore I
land : for love of Phaelice I will shed no more blood ; I have
from her been too long away : now I will return my wages to
receive."

Then mourning over poor Duke Otton's fate, he gave liis
breathless body to his friends ; and then he to the cas.tle back
returned, accompanied by fleraud his true friend ; where with
great joy they were received of all, especially by Terrey and Osile,
and the old Earl their father, as, those that had by much the
greater interest in what Guy's martial prowess had achieved.
But after he had staid two days to rest jijniself, being almost
tired with their extreme kindness, Heraud and he tPok leave,
and so departed, carrying their prayers and their good wishes
with them.

Thus to be doing good was still Guy's lot ;
Others the profit, he the honour got.
Where'er he came, he set th' oppressed free,
And to the prisoners he gave liberty :
But was the scourge of wicked tyrants still,
Not sparing those whom he found doing ill.

376 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

CHAPTER XL

How Guy and Heratid, after having parted from Earl Terrey,
met with a monstrous boar, which Guy killed: how he was
entertained by the Dukes ofLovain and Lorrain, and afterwards
returned into England : how he killed a dreadful dragon in
Northumberland, and of the honour done him by the King, and
his reception by fair Phcelice.

GUY and his friend having thus taken their leave of Terrey and the
fair Osile, as we have already said, bending their course towards
their native land, resolved to see Duke Lovain in their way. But as
they rode through a desert place, dark and obscured by the thick
shady trees, which hardly would admit the sun to enter, they on
a sudden met the hugest boar that ever mortal eye had yet beheld.
"Although," said Guy to Heraud, "I intended to draw my sword
no more till I saw England, and laid it down at my fair Phaelice's
feet, yet such a monster is sufficient warrant to draw it once again,
lest it should live to be a plague to all the country near it. And,
therefore, private keep thyself at a distance, and give me leave to
encounter it alone." This said, away went Guy, and met the
boar as he was hastening to him full of rage, which Guy perceiving,
stood upon his guard, that so he might avoid his dreadful tusks ;
then on his swinish head so hard he laid, that dead he left him
who had many slain, for from that wood scarce any man came
back, which was the cause it was so unfrequented. The monster
being dead, Guy cut his head off, huge as it was, and put it on
his spear, and carried it unto Duke Lovain's court. The very
monster's head appeared so terrible, it frighted people as they
rode along, although they then were sure it could not hurt them.

Guy being come into Duke Lovain's court, did there present
him with the monster's head, which had destroyed so many of his
subjects.

" Guy," said the Duke, " I have had large experience of your
great kindness, and your love to me : and this last valiant act
that you have done, in killing this prodigious monstrous boar,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 377

which has of late made such exceeding havoc of my subjects,
and of all passengers that came that way, surpasses all the rest,
and makes me still much more indebted to you." But to declare
the welcome that he gave him with all his warlike trumpets,
drums, and clarions, and all his nobles coming to congratulate
Guy's safe return, with all the entertainments that were made
him ; and how the Duke of Lorrain too came thither, on notice
given of Guy's arrival there, that so he might embrace that match-
less man, of whom fame had such wondrous things declared ;
I say, should I relate all this at large, it would swell this little
book into a volume. Suffice it therefore here to let you know
Guy so much longed to be with his fair Phselice that he was
weary of the honours done him, and begged they would let him
now return to England, which, after having treated him ten days,
they did consent to, and forthwith ordered one of their best ships
to be new rigged and fitted up for Guy to sail to England in ; and
then, accompanying him to the seaside, " Go," said the Dukes,
" and prosper, thou brave Englishman, the most renowned worthy
of the world. Thrice happy is the land that gave thee birth, and
much more happy is thy fairest Phselice, who must embrace the
hero in her arms. May victory attend upon thy side, and may thy
brows be with fresh laurels crowned."

Guy having given them his hearty thanks for all the undeserved
honours paid him, straight hoisted sail, and having a fair wind, in
four days' time arrived on English ground ; the noise of which soon
reached King Athelstan, who then at York his royal palace kept.
Thither, being commanded by the King, he forthwith went to pay
his duty and allegiance to him. The King received them (for
Heraud was with Guy wherever he went) with so much joy and
goodness that nothing could be more ; welcoming them with such
kind of words as these :

" Welcome to me, renowned martial man, my princely love
upon you I bestow. I in your fortunate success rejoice, for fame
has loudly told us all your story. Guy, thou hast laid a heavy
hand, I hear, on Pagan infidels, and with thy sword has sent
them home to the dark vaults where unbelievers dwell. Devour-

378 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

ing beasts thou also hast destroyed, which have the terror beep of
human creatures ; yet, worthy man, I think thou never didst slay,
of all those monsters terrible and wild, a creature that is more
cruel than there is one that at this day destroys whatever he
meets, no farther off than is Northumberland, which is a dread-
ful dragon that haunts there. I speak not this to animate thee
on, and hazard thy life at setting foot on shore ; for divers have
endeavoured to destroy this wicked beast, and perished in the
attempt. No, Guy, I speak only to show thy happiness, which
has exceeded that of other men, by freeing of them from their
fears and dangers."

" Dread lord," said Guy, "as I am an English knight, faithful
to God, and loyal to my king, I am resolved to go and see this
dragon, and try whether my sword cannot work upon him : for
I already have a dragon killed, with whom a lion first I found
engaged, and whom he had also like to have overcome; but
heaven my arm so strengthened that I soon overcame his power,
and I will do this." Then, taking his humble lea,ve, away he rides
unto Northumberland to find the dragon, having a dozen knights
to be his guides, who brought him where the dragon kept his
den, feasting himself with nought but human flesh. " Now it is
enough," said Guy, " do you stand off, and give me leave to find
this hydra's head. He that has fed so much on human flesh,
shall never more devour a man again; but, gentlemen, if here
you please to stay, you of our battle may spectator be."

Then going to the cave, the dragon espied him, and forth he
starts with lofty speckled breast ; of form most dreadful ; which
when Guy beheld, into its rest he forthwith puts his lance, then
spurs his horse, and to the dragon makes, encountering each the
other with such fury as shook the very ground under them. Then
Guy recoils and turns about his horse, and comes upon him with
redoubled might : the dragon meets him with resistless force, and,
like a reed, bit his strong lance in two. " Nay, then," said Guy,
" if you are good at biting, I have a tool to pick your teeth
withal ; " and drew his never-failing flaming sword, and on him
fell with furious blows so fierce, that many wide and bloody

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 379

wounds he made. At which the dragon yawned, like hell's wide
mouth, roaring aloud with a hideous noise, and with his claws he
rent and tore the ground. Impatient of the smart he underwent,
he with his wings would raise his body up, but Guy, with a bold
stroke, so cooled his courage, that to distend his wings he wanted
strength ; and, with a few strokes more, Guy brought him down
upon the ground, all wallowing in his blood, arid from his mouth
a fiery flake proceeded, whilst Guy with all his might was severing
his monstrous head from his more monstrous body, which when
he had (done, " Now, bloody fiend," said he, ft thou hast thy
deserved recompence for all the human blood which thou hast
shed. And now upon this broken piece of spear unto the King I
will bear thy monstrous head, which will by him, I am sure, be
well accepted."

The joyful knights then went and took a view of that same fear-
ful creature without fear, which was indeed of strange and ugly
hue ; all wondering how it was possible to escape those teeth and
claws .so dreadful, sharp, and long. And when they had fixed
the head upon a spear, and took measure of the body's length
unto the King, who had removed his court from York to Lincoln,
they repair with speed where he with some impatience waited
their return ; who in his arms embraced the warlike Guy, con-
gratulating him on his victory : then, looking on the dragon's
fearful head, " Heaven shield," said he, " and save me from all
harm ! Why, here is a face may well outface the devil. What
staring eyes of burning glass be these, that might, alive, two
flaming beacons seem ! What scales of harness arm the crooked
nose ! and teeth more strong and sharp than those of steel 1 An4
also that gaping mouth and forked tongue may, even dead, make
all the living fear, but more rejoice that thou hast overcome it,
Victorious kpight, thy actions we admire, and place thee highly
in our royal favour : throughout the spacious orb thy fame shall
spread more lofty than the primum mobile. TQ j;he succeeding
age of the world thy victories shall be transmitted down ; for I
will have the monster's picture drawn on cloth of Arras, curiously
wrought, which I in Warwick Castle will have placed, there to

380 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

remain and tell to after ages that worthy Guy, a man of matchless
strength and equal courage, destroyed a dragon thirty foot in
length. And on this castle wall we will place his head, there to
remain till length of time consume it. And, nobles all, make
a triumphant festival, and give our knight the honour that he
merits."

While thus at Lincoln Guy was entertained and feasted by the
King in royal manner, he one day took an opportunity to tell the
King the cause of his adventures, and that he did it for the love
of Phaelice, Earl Roband's only daughter ; and then besought his
royal majesty to intercede for him unto the Earl, who yet knew
nothing of their loves ; and that he would give consent unto their
marriage.

The King assured him that he would not only use his interest
with the Earl her father, to obtain his consent, but would himself
honour their nuptials with his royal presence; with which Guy
was well pleased, and humbly thanked his majesty.

Now all Guy's thoughts were taken up with Phaelice, to whom
he was preparing to be gone ; but Phaelice hearing that he was at
Lincoln, and how he had been in Northumberland, and killed
a dragon there, began to be impatient at his stay. And there-
upon she came herself to Lincoln, and happily surprised her
Guy as he was ready to depart for Warwick : with Juno's kind
embrace, and Venus's kiss, Phaelice embraced her long expected
lover ; and Guy returned it with that eagerness, which in the wars of
Mars he used to show, glad that he now has Phaelice in his arms :
but after the first transports were a little over, Phaelice, to chide
her lover, thus begins : " Forgetful -love, and too, too slow," said
she, " I fear thou didst not mind the honest friend. What ! seek
a dragon ere thou lookest for me ! and hazard life, yet neither
come nor send to know if I remained in happy state. Some
jealous woman would, perhaps, suppose she had been slighted,
but I have no such thoughts ; not but I wish, I must confess
indeed, I had been the first that thou hadst seen on shore ; but
thou art welcome to thy Phaelice now, and shalt no more unto
the wars go forth, but lie within my peaceful arms at home. No,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 381

thou hast fought, my dear, too much already. For war's stern
face has stole thy smiles away ; but love will change thy counten-
ance again, and make thy looks such as I saw them first, when I
first chose and gave my heart to thee."

" Ah, Phaelice ! " Guy replied to her again, " what toils have I
gone through for love of thee ! and canst thou doubt that ever
Guy should slight thee? No, first the sun shall cease to give
us light, and all the stars shall leave their shining orbs, before
one thought shall wander from my Phaelice. I have learned the
art of war enough already, now in Love's school I will take new
lessons out, and doubt not but to be a good proficient in that
more easy and delightful exercise. I have already made a friend,
my Phaelice, whose powerful intercession to thy father shall gain
me his consent to marry thee ; and when I tell thee it is the King
himself, I doubt not but you will be of my opinion."

" His -intercession," Phaelice then replied, " will be, no doubt,
effectual with my father ; but I believe your merits are so great,
you will have no need of any intercessor ; for I am sure my father
speaks of you as one for whom he has the utmost value."

"Why, then," said Guy, and smiled, "let us to Warwick, a
place I love the best in all the world, because it is the place that
brought up thee, and there I first was with thy beauty blessed. I
love the castle and the castle ground, for there, my Phaelice, thy
face I first saw. Let us haste, my love, to that delightful seat,
and seal those vows we have to each other made ; I long, me-
thinks at church to say these words, / Guy take Phczlice to my
wedded wife ; and to hear immediate reply, And I take Guy to be
my ivedded husband"

To which Phaelice, with an air that showed how well she was
pleased, made reply :

" Though now our satisfaction's very great,
Yet until then our joys can't be complete ;
There's pleasure in the ways that to it tend,
But Hymen's joys must always crown the end."

THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

CHAPTER XII.

How Guy and Phalice were married ; with an account of their
splendid wedding ; how Guy soon after vowed a pilgrimage^
and travelled into the Holy Land, 6°£

GUY and fair Phaelice having both agreed with speed to con-
summate their mutual joys, and tie that knot at Hymen's sacred
temple, that only death can loose, first went to wait upon the King
and Queen, and humbly to invite them to their wedding, which
they agreed on such a day : then took their leaves, and thence
repaired to Warwick. Earl Roband had received letters from the
King, letting him know that Guy was then in England, and that
for love of his fair beauteous daughter, he had undertook the
dreadful toils of war ; and was coming now to Warwick to ask his
consent, and then to celebrate his nuptials there. Earl Roband,
overjoyed at this good news, immediately went forth to meet his
new elected son-in-law.

Guy, seeing that the Earl was coming towards him, alighted from
his horse, and low on the ground he bowed himself, but the good
Earl soon raised him with his hand, and tenderly embraced him
in his arms, with all the expression of true love and friendship.
Guy then informed him of his love to Phaelice, begging his pardon
for his great presumption, and humbly asking his consent to
marry her : to whom Earl Roband made this kind reply : " My
daughter, worthy Guy, I freely give thee, nor is there anything on
this side heaven I have more desired than such a husband for
her ; that when in the annals of succeeding ages thy wondrous
story shall at large be told, my daughter may be mentioned as thy
wife, and that Earl Roband also was her father ; and that from
thee, and from my daughter Phaelice, so numerous an issue may
proceed as may in time fill all the world with heroes." Guy
humbly thanked him for his consent, and told him, " The greatest
honour he could boast of was to have such an Earl to be his father,
and such a lady for his wife as Phaelice."

Then Phaelice being called, was asked if she was willing to have

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 383

Guy to be her husband : who, with a virgin blush, declared her
satisfaction. The next thing now was the happy day in which
their nuptials were to be consummated.

And now the long-expected day is come, in which these lovers
must complete their happiness ; and all the honours Hymen can
dispense, he freely gives to grace the wedding-feast, for royal
Athelstan and his fair Queen, to grace this nuptial, in their pomp
appeared : the nobles likewise, in their richest robes, with worthy
knights and gentlemen, besides ladies of honour, strive to outvie
each other in honouring valiant Guy and his fair bride. There
wanted nothing that could be procured to please the eye, or to
content the mind ; masks, midnight revels, tilts, and tournaments,
with stately shows, and acting ancient stories, and banquets pro-
per for such royal guests. The tables were with such great plenty
stored that neither fish nor flesh was wanting ; and bowls of nectar
crowned their entertainment. Nor was the choicest music wanting
there, while healths were drank to the fair bride.

Ten days this wedding-feast was celebrated, and the country
round the better for it, for good Earl Roband never forgot the
poor, and then the King and Queen, wishing all health and happi-
ness to the new married couple, and the good Earl, that had so
nobly treated them, returned again to Lincoln.

But as our lives are made of chequer work, and joy and mourn-
ing take their several turns, so this great joy was quickly after
shadowed with a black cloud of sorrow ; for hardly had the in-
constant queen of night took her nocturnal ramble through the
heavens (which journey usually she makes in eight and twenty
days, or thereabouts), but good Earl Roband (Phselice's worthy
father) resigns this life for immortality, and unto Guy bequeaths
his whole estate ; which filled them both with an unusual grief, in
losing both a father and a friend. By his death, Guy became
Earl of Warwick, confirmed therein by royal Athelstan ; and all
his land and lordships now are his, and he declared a nobleman
of England.

But ah ! how small a satisfaction it is that all the honours of
the world can give us ! For now Earl Guy, reflecting on past

384 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

actions, can find no comfort in the sad reflection : he sees those
things that gave him his renown were vain and wicked in the
sight of Heaven. Oft would he sit and meditate alone, on those
vain steps that his rash youth had trod ; then to himself with
groans and grievous sighs would he cry out, " O, pardon me, just
Heaven ! I have done nothing yet thy grace to purchase, but
spent my time about a woman's face ; for beauty I have shed a
world of blood, hating all others for one mortal creature. How
many days have I wasted for a wife, but for my sins never spent
one weeping hour ! It is now high time repentance to begin :
henceforth the remnant of my days I will spend in contrite
sorrow for my former sins, that Heaven may pardon all the
erring ways whereby fond flesh and blood deceived me. Unto
the world I will now go learn to die, let me be censured for it as
men list ; I will please my Maker in whatever I can : ambitious
pride hath been my youth's disease : I will teach age meekness
ere my glass be run, and bid farewell to honour, wealth, and
beauty ; I will go through hell itself to purchase heaven."

Phaelice, perceiving he was melancholy, unto him came, and
with him thus discoursed : — " My dearest lord, why are you so
changed of late ? Let me, as in your joys I share, so likewise in
your sorrows bear a part. If I have in anything offended you,
let me know it, and I will instantly confess my fault, and make
you satisfaction."

" No, my dear love," said Guy, " it is not with thee, it is with
myself that I am discontented. By the light of grace, I see the
faults of nature : I am dead in sin, although I seem alive.
Phaelice, my sins, my countless sins appear, crying, ' Repent, and
clear thy guilty conscience.' I must deal with thee as Bavarus
(a Prince of Rome) dealt with Sygunda his wife, who, from a
deep impression that he felt solemnly vowed perpetual chastity.
Entreating thee, even as thou lovest my soul, not to dissuade me
from what I have done : hast thou not heard what Ethelfride did
(a Christian woman), some time England's queen, who, once with
child, did from her husband's bed absent herself for ever ? And
canst not thou, the phoenix of the realm, by imitation win

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 385

immortal praise, leaving thy pure and spotless chastity to be
admired by succeeding ages ? I know thou canst ; the greater
part is divine, and will the soul's advantage much prefer. Thou
didst procure, although I did excuse it, my pride, by conquests
to obtain thy love. Heaven gave me valour, but I did abuse it ;
my heart and thoughts were too much elevated : I thought the
crowns of kings were things inferior, and hardly worth accepting :
but now I all such follies do contemn, resolving to become
another man, and travel for the welfare of my soul ; not as before,
upon my horse in armour, but in a gown of grey, a palmer's weed,
obscure my journey ; for no leave I will take, but only leave
my endless love to thee : here is my ring, receive this small
memorial, and wear the same, to make thee think on me : let me
have thine, which for thy sake I will keep, till with his cold hand
death shall close my eyes."

When Phaelice heard this strange surprising tale, judge, you
.that can, how much she wrung her hands, how much she sighed,
how many tears she shed, yet wondrous meekly, contradicting
nothing : for the devotion of that age was such, those were
thought blessed who retired themselves, and whined away their
days in solitude, leaving the world and its bewitching vanities.

And now he throws away his princely clothing, wherein he
glittered with almost that splendour wherein the noonday sun to
us appears : now his best habit was a homespun grey, such as
employs the poor plain country people ; a staff, a scrip, and in
his hat a scollop shell, not to be known, nor in the least admired :
and thus, with pensive heart and doleful tears, he leaves sweet
England, and his fairest Phaelice, who in her face a map of sorrow
wears : all sad and mournful was her countenance, for she to all
delight had bid farewell, since she from her beloved lord was
parted thus.

Guy journeys on towards the Holy Land, where Jerusalem's fair
city stood, in which our Saviour's head was crowned with thorns,
without whose gate he shed for us his blood : to see his sepulchre
was his design, the tomb that Joseph unto Jesus lent ; with tedious
miles he tired his weary feet, and through vast deserts passed a

2 B

386 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

thousand dangers. And whilst he thus pursuing was his way, he
happened to meet with a most woful wight, a man that was no
stranger to sorrow, for he had fifteen sons that were all captives,
in slavish bondage and the extremest misery kept by a merciless
and monstrous giant : which pressed their wretched father with
that grief, that he was almost worn away to nothing; and being
past all hopes to find relief, thus to himself bewailed his sad
condition :

" Unhappy man, yea, thrice unhappy I, who court in vain the
last of remedies : in vain I seek for death, which flies me still,
though nothing else can ease the woes I feel 1 Ah ! cruel tyrant,
that of all my sons couldst not afford me one to comfort me, and
with his hands to close my dying eyes ! But out, alas ! were they
but happy there, I cared not, though I never saw them more !
But oh, to think upon their miseries pierces my heart more than
a thousand swords ! And that which pierces deepest to my heart
is this one thought, there they must still remain, and suffer with-
out hope of remedy: this cutting thought is more than I can
bear, and therefore thus I will end my wretched life." And as he
spoke these words, he drew his sword, with an intent to sheath
it in his bowels. But Guy, that listened to his sad complaint,
stepped in in time, and happily prevented him. " Hold, father,"
said he, "yield not to despair; for you may live to see your sons
at liberty: I have heard your sad complaint, and Heaven has
sent me just in the nick of time to right your wrongs."

The melancholy man was much surprised to see a stranger in
that lonely place ; then, looking steadfastly upon him, said, " Alas,
poor pilgrim, I am beholden to thee, that to allay my cruel
miseries wouldst flatter me to hope, when there is no room for it :
my wrongs are grown so great they are past righting, and death
alone is that which must relieve me." — " O, say not so," said
Guy, " though I am a pilgrim, thou dost not know the strength
that is in these arms, especially when Heaven invigorates them
to fight in a just cause. Let me but know where thy sons are
in captivity, and leave the rest to me."

" Know then, kind pilgrim," said the unhappy man, " since

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 387

you have a mind to understand my misery, that in yon castle,
made impregnable as well by art as nature, there dwells one
Amarat, of monstrous size, that is from the race of ancient giants
sprung, who does support his great and bulky carcass only by feeding
upon human flesh ; and therefore seizes all that pass these woods,
and, dead or living, bears them hence, into that cursed shambles
of destruction, making no difference of either sex, but this, that
with the women he satisfies his lust, and with the men his hunger.
My only daughter, unadvisedly, as her ill fortune sure enough
would have it, passing this way, was taken by the monster : this
stirred the anger of my fifteen sons, who were resolved to rescue
their poor sister, but in the vain attempt were taken prisoners ;
yet, for their sister's sake, their lives are spared, though they
endure a thousand deaths for one."

" Your case," said Guy, " is sad, and I must pity you ; but I am
resolved to try what I can do, if you will but trust me with your
sword and armour, to kill the tyrant, and redeem your children."

" Most willingly," replied the hopeless man, " would I contri-
bute unto their release, but am afraid you will rather fall yourself
into the tyrant's clutches, than redeem those that are there already ;
but, however, my sword and armour at your service are ; and may
you meet with the success that is answerable to your matchless
courage." " Well," said Guy to him, " stay you, and pray, and
doubt not my success against the tyrant."

Guy hereupon went up straight to the castle, his thoughts being
employed to think what way he had best take to get the tyrant
out ; not doubting then but to overcome him easily. So going to
the gate, he knocked thereat like one that would come in, and
had some business of great consequence. The giant never was
so roused before ; for at his gate none used to knock so hard ; he
therefore takes his club and keys, and opening the gate goes out,
staring about with watchful countenance : then seeing Guy, thus
with disdain and anger he addresses him: "Sirrah," said he,
"what business have you here? Have you a mind to feast the
crows, and have your quarters hung upon these walls ? For what
else is it that you can expect ? You might have heard that there

388 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

is no ransom here for any one that falls into my clutches ; but if
you are ignorant, and know it not, this club that is in my hand
shall teach you better."

Guy, nothing daunted with his bugbear words, replied again,
"Why, how now ! are you quarrelsome ? You seem to be a very
choleric person : but I have a weapon here shall match your club,
and quickly bring you to a better temper." And so expecting
no return again, he draws his sword, and with the same salutes
him about the head, the shoulders, and sides, whilst his erected
club did death proclaim ; striding like a Colossus over the Helles-
pont : but on the ground in vain he spent his strokes, for Guy
was much too nimble for him still ; for, before he could heave
his club again, Guy would be sure to give him the other stroke,
for Guy for that advantage always watched : at length, through
thirst, the giant feeble grew, and said to Guy, " As thou art of
human kind, give leave that nature's wants may be supplied, and
let me go and drink in yonder place : thou canst not yield to
a request more small than to grant life a draught of poor cold
water." "I grant thee leave," quoth Guy; "go, drink thy fill;
pledge both the savage boar and the dragon too ; but never think
again to drink cold water. Think, when thou drinkest, that now
thou drinkest thy last." So to the spring he goes, and there his
thirst he quenches with almost a tun of water. Guy was amazed
to see him drink so much, and to the combat hastens him again :
" Come, come," said he, " thou art long about thy liquor, thou
wilt wrong the fish that in the river swim ; but I will see they
shall have satisfaction, for with thy blood their wants shall be
supplied." "Villain," quoth Amarat (for that is the name by
which this monstrous giant must be called), " I crush thee in an
instant ; thy life shall pay thy daring tongue's offence ; this club
(which is about a hundredweight) shall my commission be to
send thee packing : for ravens' diet thou shalt soon be dressed;
I'll break thy bones, as though they were but reeds." Incensed
much by this bold Pagan's brags, which worthy Guy no longer
could endure, he spends his blows on those supporting posts,
which like to columns did his body bear. The giant for those

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 389

wounds in choler grew, and desperately at Guy he threw his club,
which did directly light upon his body, and threw him by its
weight upon the ground; and ere Guy could recover from his
fall, the giant got his club again in his fist, and struck at Guy
another desperate blow ; but missing Guy, stuck it fast into the
ground. "Traitor," quoth Guy, "thy falsehood I will repay;
this act, basely to spill my blood." Says Amarat, "Against an
enemy there is nothing base : I will murder any way ; could I
but poison into thy nostrils blow, thou soon shouldst see I
would dispatch thee by it" — "'Tis well," said Guy, "thou
openest thy black thoughts ; thy beastly bulk is sure the dwell-
ing of the devils. They are thy tenants whilst thou livest
here, but when thou comest to hell they will be thy land-
lords. Vile miscreant, prepare thee for that place, the just
reward of such inhuman monsters. But breathe thyself a time,
while I go drink ; for flaming Phoebus with his fiery eye, tor-
ments me so with heat, that I believe my thirst could scarce
be quenched with an ocean. Thou knowest to thee I granted
the same kindness." Quoth Amarat, " Thou hast no fool of me ;
no, silly wretch, I have more wit than so : by all my gods I do
rejoice to find that thirst constrains thee now ; for all the treasure
that the world can boast of, one drop of water shall not cool thy
veins. Relieve my foe ! and unto my own wrong refresh my
adversary ! why this would be a madman's part indeed ! if thou
imaginest this, thou art a child. No, fellow, I have known the
world too long to be so simple ; now I know thy wants, I will not
grant one minute's space of breathing." And with these words,
heaving aloft his club into the air, he swings the same about, then
rubs his temples, and his locks doth shake, and like the Cyclops
in his pride he struts : "Sirrah," said he, " I heave a list to you,
and the next blow I strike you will breathe your last ; for with
this, stroke you shall for ever perish. Take thou no care for
drink, for never more a draught of water shall come near thy lips,
but with thy blood I will soon carouse full merry : here is at thee
with a butcher's downright blow, for it is thy blood that must
assuage my fury."

390 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

" Infernal, false, obdurate fiend," said Guy, " thou seemest an
imp of cruelty from hell : ungrateful monster, since thou hadst
denied that thing to me wherein I used thee well, I will with my
sword take the more deep revenge on thy accursed head, and
quickly make thee shorter by so much. Now, thirst, farewell, I
do disdain to drink, and therefore let the river keep its water, or
let wild beasts be welcome thereunto, for with its pearly drops
I will not meddle. Now, tyrant, know thy latest hour is come.
For though perhaps you'll take the greeting ill, yet it is with a
good will I give it you : " and thereupon he gave him such a blow
as made the monster tumble on the ground. Then Guy set his
foot upon the monster's breast, and from his shoulders did his
head divide, which with a yawning mouth did widely gape ; no
dragon's jaws were ever larger seen, to open and to shut till life
was gone : and then Guy took possession of the keys, and with
them opened all the castle gates ; where many woeful captives
he set free, that had been long in misery confined, and had been
tortured with great cruelties : and when he of their miseries
inquired, each told a tale which from his eyes drew tears, and
which they could not tell without sad sighs at the remembrance
of their barbarous usage. There tender ladies in dark dungeons
lay that in this desert wood had been surprised ; and every day
no other diet had than flesh of human creatures for their food :
some with their lovers' bodies had been fed, burying their
husbands' bodies in their wombs.

Now Guy bethinks him of the oppressed knight, with whom
he left his pilgrim's gown and staff, and of his captive sons im-
prisoned here ; and blames himself that first of all he had not
released the wronged brethren from their woes : then on he goes,
and, as he searched about, he grievous cries and lamentations
heard, which, as a clue, led him to the fatal place ; where finding
an obscure and darksome gate, all strongly covered over with
plates of iron, he looked amongst his keys, and there found one
that soon unlocked and gave him entrance there. He was no
sooner entered but he beheld the strangest sight that ever his eyes
had seen : men that had there by slow degrees been famished,

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 391

and could but just be said to be alive, looking like pictures which
the painters draw when to our eyes they death would represent :
of these some by the thumbs were hanged up, some by the heels,
and others by the middle. With diligence he takes them from
the walls, telling them they were now at liberty; which happy
sound revived their drooping spirits. Then Guy to the perplexed
knight, their father, repairs, and tells him what success he had
against the inhuman keeper of that castle ; then bids him come,
and there receive his sons : " Though poor and faint," said Guy,
"yet they are alive; accept of that, and seek to nourish them."
The father's joy was scarce to be expressed ; but when he saw
what skeletons they were, how like the living images of death, he
scarce had strength to outlive that wretched sight. And the glad
sons, seeing themselves at liberty, and their poor aged father still
alive, were at a loss how to express their thanks to him that had
so generously delivered them,

Guy then unto their father gave the keys, saying, " This castle
do I give to thee, where tyranny has dwelt so many years ; let it
be now a place where pious pilgrims and weary travellers may
find refreshment. Those tender ladies that were prisoners here,
let them be sent away with ease and safety where they desire, when
they have strength to travel; and always see you use wronged
women well. Men may revenge the wrongs that they receive, but
women have no strength to right themselves."

The good old knight, surprised with joy and wonder, fell on
the ground, and would have kissed Guy's feet. " Father," said
Guy, " I pray forbear this homage ; no honour is due to me for
what I have done ; it was a stronger arm than mine that did it,
and unto Him let all the praise be given. And now, I pray,
exchange with me again : take you your coat of mail, and your
strong sword ; give me my staff, and my poor palmer's weed, for
to the Holy Land my course is bent.

Ambitious pride hath hurt me all it can,
And now I'll mortify a sinful man."

392 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

CHAPTER XIII.

How Guy's departure out of England is taken; how he employed
his time in his pilgrimage ; how Phtzlice spent her time in his
absence; and how, in his return ', he routed Amianthus's army,
and restored his old friend Earl Terrey to his lordships ; and
afterwards returned into England unknown.

How Guy turned pilgrim we before have told : but now it will be
necessary to say something of what was said, both by the King
and the nobility, of his so strange and sudden a departure : which
was no sooner known at court, but both the King and the nobility
were struck with admiration that Guy, who had so famous been
for deeds of chivalry, and had performed so many mighty acts,
all for love of Phaelice, should so soon leave his fair and beauteous
spouse for a toilsome solitary life : yet was his piety commended
highly, who set a greater value on his soul, which by repentance
he had refined from sin, than upon all the honour he had won,
or glittering treasure that he was possessed of.

Now let us look on Guy, the man that sought to find out
quarrels for his recreation ; who for his Phaelice ranged the world
about, delighting most in combats and alarms : but he, from his
former mind estranged, shuns all occasions that may cause debate.
In his own wrongs he vowed no blow to strike ; nor injury, nor
abuse should force him to it \ for he his natural temper hath sub-
dued, and taken patience by the hand for his guide, to lead his
thoughts where meekness keeps her residence. No worldly joys
can give his mind content : delights are gone, as though they
never had been, and to repent is now his only care, for spending
his youth in serving sin ; in contrite sorrow now he will pass his
age, that little time to come which life shall borrow. Sad were
his looks, and pale was his complexion, his diet of the meanest,
hard and spare : like a religious man he led his life, in a poor
homely thin and threadbare habit; his dignities and honours
were forgotten, nor did he the Warwick earldom now regard.
Sometimes he would go and search into a grave, and there would

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 393

find a rotten dead man's skull; and with the same would find
a conference, examining at large each vanity, and then himself
would answer for the head, as if the dead man answered for him
self. " If thou hast been a monarch, where is thy crown ? Or,
who now stands in fear of thy stern looks ? " " Death hath of
my renown a conquest made, my golden sceptre he has taken
from me, and now it is wielded by another hand ; and I am now
become so poor a thing, my poorest subjects envy not my place."
" Perhaps thou hast been some counsellor of state, whose potent
wit a mighty reason did rule ; where is the policy of late thou
hadst ? " " Consumed and gone, like to an idle dream ! I have
not so much wit as will suffice to kill these worms that thus infest
my coffin." " Perhaps thou wast some beauteous lady's face, for
whose dear "sake some have done strange exploits, even such as
when the case was once my own, I for my dearest Phaelice, have
performed. Perhaps there was a skin about this skull fairer than
that which Helen's was enclosed in ; and on this scalp, bare and
worm-eaten now, where nothing else is to be seen but bone, such
yellow locks of hair were to be beheld, which for their beauty
were esteemed like gold ; and in those hollow caves two crystal
eyes, and here such lips as love for kissing craves. But what is
of all this beauty now become, so precious once in the esteem of
men ? By powerful death unto the dust it is turned, grown loath-
some, filthy, and trodden under foot ; and now there is only this
poor picture left to tell the wise, All beauty is but vain." Such
sad memorials he would oft prefer, of mortal frailty and the force
of death, to teach' the flesh how apt it is to mistake, and pass
repentance off till it is too late : thus would he all things treat
with such contempt that might seduce the soul from heavenly
love.

Now for a while leave Guy to his own thoughts, and turn
your eyes to another subject : to see new sorrows now look back
to England ; and to long absent years commit the other. Leave
doleful Guy to cares and aged grief, and look how Phselice his
poor lady fares; like to a widow all in black attire, she doth
express her inward grief of heart. She of her chamber does a

394 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

prison make, and unto sorrow wholly is inclined. She that was
late the pride of the English court, with majesty will now consort
no longer ; but lives like one that despises life and being, and
every day did die unto the world ; seeing her folly with the eyes
of judgment, and noting well how fast false pleasures fly, leaving
more pain than they can cause delight. Her thoughts run after
her departed lord, and are in motion swifter far than he.
"Where is the place," said she} "can give him rest, that for his
pilgrimage hath thus forsaken me ? Lament, my soul, under the
heavy burden, to think poor Guy remembers thee in tears.
Methinks he by some river side is sitting, and swells the waters
with his weeping eyes : methinks he often cries out, ' Phaelice,
Phaelice/ and echo through the skies does carry it ; then rising
up, with might and main he runs, saying, 'Sweet echo, bring
my love again.' Then comes he to a cypress tree, and says,
' Sylvanus, this was once the lovely boy whom thou didst praise
for feature to the clouds, but here, alas ! thy senseless joy is
transformed ; it is nothing now but tree, and boughs, and leaves,
and made to wither as all beauties do/ And then, methinks, full
sadly down he sits, and on his bended knees his elbow stays,
with head on hand, saying, ' Farewell, vain honour, and all the
pleasures of my youthful days ; my true repentance has displaced
you all ; a happy end brings sinful souls to heaven.' Ah, worthy
man I that thus canst mortify thy rebel flesh to conquer Adam's
nature, and, that thou blessed eternity mightst gain, dost live
on earth but as a stranger in it ; dead, though alive ; and new-
born, though grown old ; true, valiant Guy, that hast overcome
the devil. As thy advice was when thou didst go hence, that
I a vestal virgin's life should live ; although, when I was a
maiden, by love's art thou didst persuade me to become a wife,
I vow by heaven, and Him that reigns above, to keep my thoughts
as truly chaste as thine : my beauty all I can I will obscure by
doleful lamentations, sighs, and tears; and will by abstinence
attain the way to overcome the force of sin's temptations. This
sentence very often I have read, ' A woman's chastity is virtue's
Queen.' Ceres and Bacchus I will shun with care ; for they are

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 395

virtue's foes and vice's friends, and oft to a licentious life do lead ;
but with sobriety I will still associate, and with spare diet take
each day's repast : that soul thrives best that keeps the body bare.
The courtly ornaments I wore of late in honour of King Athelstan's
fair queen, even all those jewels and those robes of state, wherein
to others I have appeared so glorious, shall with their pride and
value now supply those naked poor that are about the streets ;
the gold and silver I am now possessed of shall all employed be
about good works. The purchase of eternal happiness is of all
wealth most precious unto me : all that in want repair to Warwick
Castle, and crave relief, shall there be sure to find it. For the
halt, lame, and blind, I will prepare an hospital, which shall be
well endowed j and for the widow and the fatherless a special
care I will be sure to take, that their necessities supplied may be ;
and that young beginners may have wherewithal their calling to
set up, I will take care : and for repairing of decayed highways,
that travellers may better pass the roads, is also what I will take
care about. These things I reckon to be the heavenly thrift, and
laying treasure up where it cannot rust ; dispensing of the riches
we receive, as each good steward is enjoined to do; that after
this short life is done, we may enjoy a life that is eternal. Fare-
well, vain world, of thee I take my leave, and of those things
which thou dost most esteem ; thy shows are snares, deceitful are
thy hopes, and only through false mirrors seemest fair. O, that
in such disguise I could but travel (as once the kind Sulpitia
did contrive in banishment to see her Lentulus) attending on my
Guy, wherever he be; or Hypsicratea like, in man's apparel,
following her exiled king through love's desire : it would some-
thing ease my wounded heart of sorrow so to divide the burden
which I bear, for where affection takes affliction's part in hard
extremes, some comfort is expressed. And misery is more easy
to abide when friends do with friends divide their crosses. But
all in vain it is that I thus wish ; it nought avails, my woe is still
the same ; though straying thoughts do wander here and there,
my poor weak body must at home remain. Unto the Holy Land
he is gone to travel, Heaven send me thither at my dying day. I

396 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

will about my vows, and see them paid. The good that charity
requires I will do ; when grace persuades unto works of virtue, it
is blessedness to further such desires ; and while on earth I do
remain a sinner, I will strive to please my God by living well."

In this resolve each day she spent her life, performing all those
things she had proposed, and showed so great severity therein that
she became the wonder of her sex, who were amazed, and even
quite confounded, to see a lady so high born, so rich, and which
is more, so rare a beauty too, pouring contempt upon all worldly
pleasures ; for she was deaf to all her friends' persuasions, nor
unto any would she lend an ear that mentioned company or re-
creation, or what she had determined sought to alter ; but such as
of compassion would discourse her, she would for blessed Jesus's
sake relieve. ;

Meanwhile her wandering lord from land to land with weary
steps repairs, to seek out places which pious pilgrims used to fre-
quent ; whilst age and grief, and mournful languishing, with silver
hairs had crowned his hoary head, so that good Guy was changed
exceedingly : for sorrow and sore travel gives a man a countenance
more aged far than they who, with less cares, much longer time
had lived ; his old acquaintance in those foreign parts, that had
his worthy actions seen before, and witness been of all his bold
adventures, had lost Sir Guy, as one that had never lived : those
that in armour knew his martial face did never expect him in a
friar's weed. Amongst the rest, to whom well known he had been,
he met Earl Terrey, now a wandering exile, each unto other being
grown strangers ; through sorrow, which the senses oft deceive,
they had forgot that ever they saw each other, though Guy and
Terrey had sworn brothers been. But having to each other told
their countries, and by what means they travellers became, and
how one was a voluntary exile, but the other was constrained to
be such : as they were parting with a kind adieu, " Oh, English-
man," said Terrey, with a sigh, " I once had a friend, thy country-
man, who righted me in my extremest wrongs, and was a champion
in the cause of virtue, and was to every tyrant a sworn foe, for on
oppression's neck he would set his foot : tell me, dear friend, hast

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 397

thou not heard of Guy, that had a hand to help, a sword to fight
in the behalf of all that were oppressed?" "I have," said Guy,
" and knew him many years, he is Earl of Warwick now, and
peer of England: what is thy name?" "My name," quoth he,
"is Terrey, greater by birth than now my fortune makes me."
" Terrey," quoth Guy, " I vow I will do thee right in what I can ;
my poor good- will esteem, for I too am a friend to the oppressed ;
and since thou lovest my friend, thy friend I will be. Direct me
to the man that is thy foe, I will take thy part as far as strength
will go ; if Guy himself were here to join with us, he could but
say, I will venture life for friends ; and be assured, though simple
I appear, I have oft had as good success as he." Terrey with
hearty thanks requites his love, then brings him to his foe, whom
he defies, and with his adverse champion bravely fights, who by
a mortal wound dies at his feet. Yet it was, it seems, a man of
matchless worth, who for that combat they had singled out. When
this was done, the Earl demands his name ; " Pardon," quoth
Guy, " that were against my vow ; to no man living I will my
name reveal, for I have now both name and nature changed.
Nature's corruption now my strife is to leave, and to receive a
new regeneration.

Farewell, my friend, if we on earth don't meet,
In heaven hereafter we'll each other greet."

So he towards Judea's ground departs, to see Samaria and
Galilee, places which Christian pilgrims much frequent, because
their Saviour's choice was to be there. He to redeem our loss
did suffer, even from the manger to the bloody cross. Much
time Guy spent, and many years bestowed in travelling about
from place to place, surveying each place in the Holy Land, that
all his friends in England now supposed that he among the living
was no more, for from all pilgrims that had back returned, of
noble Guy no tidings could be heard : this put the world to
silence, men were mute, because of Guy they knew not what for
to say: that dreadful champion that when in bright armour struck
such a terror wheresoever he came, was neither known nor feared

398 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

in simple grey ; but did endeavour all that ever he could never
to be known to any mortal wight : for unto none would he dis-
close his name, nor tell to what country he belonged : his noble
thoughts in his own breast concealed, his chief design was to
remain obscure :

Until by native love his mind was led,

To lay his bones where he at first was bred.

CHAPTER XIV.

Iloii) Guy returned to England^ which he found invaded by the
Danes ; and how he undertook to fight with Colbron, a Danish
giant, whom he killed ; upon which the Danish army was
overthrown^ and forced to fly the land. And how Guy after-
wards took himself to a solitary cave, where he lived unknown.

As the most bright and glorious shining day will have a night of
darkness to succeed, in which the earth will be wrapped up in
clouds, and all the world be clothed in sable weeds, presenting
us with drowsy heavy sleep, to keep the thoughts of death in
memory, so youth the day of nature's strength and beauty, which
had a splendour like the eye of heaven, must yield to fate, by the
great law of nature, when length of years shall bring life's evening
on. This cogitation dwelt in Guy's sage breast, and made him,
when he was in Palestine, think of returning to his native country.
He found himself to be well struck in years, and that his glass
had but few sands to run, before the close of his declining days ;
and therefore he to England comes at last, there to be buried
where he had been born ; for this was all the cause that drew him
back, to end his days there where they first began : that his poor
body after all his toils, which through the world no resting-place
had found, in English ground at last might safely rest.

Being arrived upon his native shore, his country in extreme
distress he found ; for in each place great store of armed troops
against the foe was got in readiness. The King of Denmark to
destroy the realm a mighty army had securely landed, which with
incredible destruction marched, laying the country waste, and

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 399

burning towns, and filling all the nation full of terror; which
forced King Athelstan, for his security, with his small forces to
retire to Winchester; which when the Danes once knew, they
thither away, and with their warlike troops set down before it.
But that was far too strong for them to take ; their walls of stone
were then invincible, nor had they cannon keys to let them in.
The monk's invention was not then found out, of murdering men
by wholesale with their gunpowder; a soldier then that would
attain to honour, by manly strokes could only purchase it.

Beholding now how oft they were repulsed by those strong
sallies that the English made, and that they were not like to take
the city, they beat a parley, and therein proposed that they were
willing to decide their quarrel by single combat, to save shedding
blood, between a Dane and an Englishman ; to which, when both
sides had agreed, the Danes brought forth a mighty giant of a
prodigious stature, demanding where the foxes all were hid ;
saying, " If there be one dare meet me here, that for his country
will his valour show, let him come forth and try with me his
manhood ; or else the English are the worst of cowards. For
craven cocks on their own dunghills will both crow and strike
before they run and cry. Is English courage now become so low
that none will fight ? Are you so fearful grown ? Then I pro-
nounce you all faint-hearted fools, afraid to look upon a martial
man. O what prodigious lies, in foreign lands, of these men's
valour have I heard repeated ! What great achievements have
they oft performed, if lies be true ! But they are sadly slandered ;
for in their feet their valour chiefly lies, for they with them can
swiftly run away. They have an ancient proverb to instruct them,
That it is best sleeping in a whole skin" Thus did he vaunt in
terms of high disdain j and threw down his gauntlet, saying,
" There is my glove."

All this and more Guy unperceived had heard, and for his
country's sake could bear no longer the insulting boast of this
proud Danish monster : and therefore straightway goes unto the
King, and thus, in pilgrim's weeds, addresses him : " Dread Lord,
though in this simple habit hid, this proud insulting foe I beg to

400 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

combat ; for though I seem unfit for what I ask, I never attempted
aught but what I did : and therefore doubt not but to free your
kingdom from the invasion of injurious Danes, by overcoming
this their boasted champion."

To whom the royal Athelstan replied, " Palmer, thou seemest
to be a man of courage ; but I fear for Colbron thou art much
too weak : ah ! I remember once I had a champion, upon whose
head my crown I would have ventured : but valiant Guy, alas !
is how no more. Had he been here, I had not been thus
distressed."

To which Guy thus replied, " Great Athelstan, trust me for
once, for though I am unknown, it is a just cause in which I do
engage ; and Heaven does still both favour and succeed the just
side. I cannot see one brave an English king, but, aged as I
am, my blood is fired, and nothing but his head shall be to me
satisfaction for the affront."

At which bold speech of Guy's the King was amazed; and,
wondering at the greatness of his spirit, said, " Palmer, I accept
thee for my champion, and thou alone shalt be the man on whom
I am resolved to venture England's crown." And thereupon
ordered immediately that his own armour should be brought;
which Guy, having received, soon put on ; then girting his massy
sword about him, came to the King, and of him took his leave ;
the King assuring him he did not doubt but Heaven, in whose
great cause he was engaged now, would be his strong defence,
and give him victory. "Amen," quoth Guy; and with great
courage goes from Winchester's north gate unto Hide Mead,
where he soon found that monster of a man, treading two yards
of ground at every step.

" Art thou," the giant cried, " that mighty man on whom the
King will venture England's crown ? What, can he find for me no
fitter match than this poor rascal in a threadbare coat ? Where
are all his worthy knights and champions now? A wretch so
base as thou art I disdain."

" Giant," said Guy, " I matter not thy words, for hadst thou
manhood, thus thou wouldst not rail, nor spend with blasts of

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 401

empty wind thy breath. A soldier's weapon best his tale can tell.
Thy destiny thou on my sword shall find, which, whilst thou hast
drops to bleed, will let thee blood : and thus I to chastise thee
will begin." And thereupon such blows he on him laid, that
Colbron never had felt the like before ; who with his club waited
to meet his sword, intending to have broke it with one blow. But
Guy was well aware of his design, and by his own agility prevented
him ; and therefore boldly he about him laid, until the lubbard's
breath was almost gone. For with a weighty club did Colborn
fight, which missing of his blow, fell on the ground, and the very
earth itself gave way, so ponderous were the strokes that he
designed. So long they held this wrathful furious fight that the
spectators knew not what to judge; though Guy on Colbron
still fresh wounds bestowed, as a presage of his ensuing victory ;
and by his activity escaped the danger with which each blow of
Colbron's threatened him. At last, quoth Colbron, " Englishman,
forbear, and sue for mercy, ere I strike thee down." " Villain,"
quoth Guy, " thy coward's fear I scorn, I will have thy life, or it
my own shall cost. We will never part till one be conqueror ;
the King hath ventured England on my head, and therefore I will
not yield an inch to thee, for all the wrath that Denmark ere
could boast : thou shalt find metal in these aged limbs ; although
thy body bulkier be than mine, I have a heart bigger than thine
by odds. Think on thy ancient grandsire, Gogmagog, who was
at Dover fought by Corinaeus, and by that worthy Briton over-
come, though he with boldness like to thine had challenged him ;
and as he then was served, so shalt thou now." And thereupon
Guy gave him such a stroke it made wide ruptures in the giant's
flesh, and very much provoked his furious choler, laying about
him with the utmost rage ; meantime Guy managed both his parts
so well, which was to lay on a load upon his foe, and save himself
from his destructive blows, that he at length gave Colbron such
a wound that on the earth he tumbled in his gore; whilst with
his blood his soul departed hence, and in the sooty regions took
fresh quarters.

Forthwith a shout from out of the town was heard, that made

2 c

402 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

the welkin echo back the sound, which joyful was to every
English heart, and brought as great a terror to the Danes, who
with the utmost grief away departed.

King Athelstan then for his champion sent, to do him honour
for this great exploit ; who by the clergymen was first received
with that solemnity his worth deserved; and next by all the
nobles was embraced, and entertained with trumpets, drums, and
other martial music. But Guy in these things took but little
pleasure ; refusing costly ornaments and jewels as things that he
was out of love withal. To God he only gave the praise of all,
blessing His name that thus had given him power to free his
country from invading foes; and so entreats that he unknown
might pass, to live where poverty regards not wealth, and be
beholden to the help of none, and there, by stealth, sometime to
view the world ; for true content doth bring so great a treasure, it
makes the beggar richer than the king. " With true content will I
abide," said he, " in homely cottage free from all resort : for I
have found within a monarch's court content can never long be
made to dwell. No, there is ambition, pride, and envy there,
and fawning flattery stepping still between." "Yet, gentle
palmer," said the King, " I pray that thou at least wilt so far
honour me, wherever thou resolvest to abide, as to acquaint me
with thy name in private, which is the only boon I ask of thee.
Tell me but who thou art, I will ask no more, and on my royal
word I will conceal it."

" Why then," said he, " if it may please your majesty, I am
your subject, Guy of Warwick named, that have for many years
not seen your land, but been where youth by age and travel is
tamed : yet there, dread prince, experience taught me wit, and of
the follies of the world convinced me. And now I am returned
to make my grave within that kingdom which first gave me life.
Yet shall no creature else have the least notice of my arrival ;
no, not my dear wife, till sickness comes, such as does threaten
death ; then I will acquaint her of my last farewell."

The King thus having heard what Guy had said, went to him,
and with joy in his arms embraced him, and with great admira-

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 403

tion answers thus : " Most worthy Earl, preserver of thy country,
it grieves my soul thou wilt not live with me. O would thy
resolutions were to make, that my persuasions might prevent thy
vow ! But it is too late, they are grown ripe, I see, and thou art
fixed in thy determination. Well, worthy man, in this I joy,
however, that to thy native soil thou bringest thy bones ; where
standing monuments of thy great deeds shall last unto the world's
remotest ages. In Warwick Castle shall thy sword be lodged, to
witness to the world what thou hast been. And lest the future
age should grow neglectful in the preserving of thy memory, the
castle keeper shall receive a salary, which I myself will straight-
ways settle on him, to keep thy sword in memory of thee. Thy
armour likewise, and thy martial spear, which did thee service in
thy high designs, shall all be carefully preserved there; that all
such men as have distrustful thoughts may think (if from a truth
it did not spring) a king would scorn to cheat his people so.
And in thy chapel (distant thence a mile) a bone shall hang of
that devouring beast, which did so long near Coventry remain,
whose rib, by measure, was at least six foot, destroying many that
did that way pass, until thy valiant arm the savage slew, By
tradition it may down be handed, and. unto those that thither
come reported, this was Guy's armour, this his massy blade;
these bones of murdering beasts which he overcame; and this
the tomb wherein his corpse was safe deposited : this the true
picture of his shape at length ; and this the spear that of his
strength did witness, for sure I hold it as a thing ungrateful
(when thy remains shall mouldered be to dust) if none shall cause
some muse to sing thy fame, and tell the worth of Guy, that
English hero. Thy countrymen cannot so forgetful be, when
out of sight to leave thee out of mind, when thou for them hast
done such mighty things."

I This said, in humble duty, wondrous meek, Guy, with a lowly
reverence, left the King, to seek some solitary cave or den, which
he unto his mansion house converted ; and buried whilst alive
he poorly lives, making his meat of wholesome herbs and roots.
Sometimes he would repair to Warwick Castle, and crave an alms

404 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

at his dear lady's hands : who to pilgrims did more bounty show
than any lady in the land besides : and she would ask all palmers
that came there if they were ever in the Holy Land ; or, if they
in their travels had seen an Englishman, lord of that noble castle,
who many years from hence had been away ? "He was a knight
that never was conquered yet by any human power : I only fear
one cruel tyrant, who is called death ; if he has met him, then,
my dearest lord, I never shall behold thy face again, until that
monster do as much for me, and so unite our hearts again to-
gether, which gracious Heaven grant : if Guy be dead, O let me
on the earth no longer stay." Thus often did he hear his wife
inquiring with deep complaints, from extreme passion flowing,
yet by no means would grant her kind request, nor yet bestow
one hopeful word of comfort ; but yet would view her, as if his
heart would break; then, to prevent his speaking, turn away;
and so, even weeping, to his cell depart : there placing before his
eyes a dead man's head ; saying, " With thee I will shortly come
to dwell, and therefore do despise this sinful flesh : my soul is
weary of a guest so bad, and therefore doth at rest desire to be.
My strength is from my feeble limbs departed, and sickness now
begins to gripe my heart : my happiness is now apace approaching,
and I am in hope my foe and I shall part. Long time, alas ! I
have fed this adversary, by whom my soul hath been misled so
oft. To my dear Phselice I will send my ring, which I to keep
did promise for her sake. I now no longer will the time defer, for
fear lest death surprise me unawares. Methinks I feel his messenger
approach, and poor weak nature must be forced to yield."

Then called a herdsman as he passed by, and said, "Good
friend, one kindness I desire of thee, and hope thou wilt not
deny it me, for it is a matter that concerns me highly : it is thou
wilt repair to Warwick Castle, and for the Countess ask with
trusty care, and then into her hand this ring deliver, and say the
ancient pilgrim sent it her that lately at her gate with scrip did
stand, to beg an alms in blessed Jesus's name. And if she ask
thee where I may be found, direct her hither; she will well
reward thee."

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 405

"Sir," said the herdsman, "I shall be ashamed who never yet
spake to a lady in my life : besides, I may perhaps come into
trouble, to carry rings to the Earl of Warwick's countess. And
then say I should lose it by the way, what would the Countess or
yourself say to me ? "

" Prithee," said Guy, " frame no such idle doubts, no prejudice
can come to thee at all ; the thing is honest about which thou
goest, and none can call thee into question for it. A courteous
ear the lady will give thee, and on my word you will receive
no harm."

With that he goes and delivers the token to the Countess;
which she receiving, was presently with admiration struck. " O
friend," said she, "where is my husband's being?"

"Husband !" said he, "I nothing know of that. It was from
an ancient beggar I received the ring, whose house I cannot well
describe; for it is neither made of wood nor stone, but under
ground he went into a hole. And in my conscience there alone
he dwells, and never pays his landlord quarter's rent."

"Ah! it is my Guy," said she; "show me his cell, and for
thy pains I will very well reward thee." And then ordering her
steward to give the messenger a hundred marks for bringing her
those welcome tidings, she straight went with him to the lonely
cave, in which her lord led such a solitary life ; but he, espying
her, as weak and feeble as he was, went forth to meet her, and
there her lord and she embraced each other, and wept a while ere
they could speak a word : and after a good space that they had
been silent, Guy first the doors of silence thus did break :

" Phaelice," said he, " now take thy leave of Guy, who sent to
thee, ere his sight decays : within thy arms I do entreat to die,
and breathe my spirit hence from thy sweet soul. It is not long
since to me thou gavest alms at Warwick's Castle gate; it is
blessedness poor men's estate to pity. Look not so strange, my
dear, lament not so. Ah ! weep not, love, I do not want thy
tears ; for since my coming here I have plenty of tears of true
remorse, conscience knows. Thou weepest not now, because I
wept no more ; but to behold me friendless, poor, and wretched.

4o6 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

My love, I have sought the place that I desire, though few
endeavour for eternal rest. The soul which unto heaven doth
aspire, and only seeks after celestial things, must leave the world
and all its fading joys, and all the vanities thereof detest : for
could we see it with a spiritual eye, we should discern it full of
nought but devils, that always lie in wait to ruin souls, and to that
end are always laying baits to trap and ensnare them. O Phaelice !
I have spent (and then he wept) youth, nature's day, upon the
love of thee ; and for my God have kept old rotten age, the night
of nature : Christ, my sin forgive ; sorrow for this lies heavy on
my soul. O blessed Saviour 1 pardon my misdeeds, in that I
have destroyed so many men, even for one woman, to enjoy her
love. And therefore in this solitary cave, with God above I have
sought my peace to make ; against whom I have been more mis-
led by sin than all the hairs upon my head can number. The
other day, finding my body ill, and all the parts thereof with pain
oppressed, I did compose this will and testament to be the last I
ever ordain. Lo ! here it is, and, if I can, I will read it, before I
cease to be a living man.

®t£ last OTHU ant* ^Testament

" EVEN in the name of Him whose mighty power did heaven and
earth and all things else create, as one that is this instant hour to
die, I do with an unfeigned heart and mind leave both the world
and everything therein. My soul I give to Him that gave it me ;
receive it, Jesus, as in Thee I trust. I owe a debt of life that is
due to death, and when I have paid Him He can ask no more. ' It
is but a little breath, a very vapour, and I could wish He had it
long ago. But here is my comfort, whensoever He comes, it is
ready for Him, though He calls to-day. I owe the world that stock
of wealth it lent me when I at first began to traffic with it,
Less would have given nature more content : the world leaves me
naked, as I came into it ; I ask but one poor sheet to wrap me in,
I do bequeath my numberless transgressions, my sins and evils,
they that are so many, that they exceed the bounds of all arith-

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 407

metic, those past, those present, all that are to come, to him
that made them loads to burden me ; Satan, receive them, for
from thee they came. I give good thoughts, and every virtuous
action, that every grace has guided me unto, to Him from whom
proceedeth all that is good. For only evil I by nature do, being
conceived, bred, and born in sin, and all my life has been most
vile and vain. I give to sorrow all my sighs and tears, fetched
from the bottom of a bleeding heart. I give to repentance, tears
and watery eyes of a true convert, and unfeigned sighs. Let earth,
or sea, a grave yield to my body ; so Jesus to my soul grant
room in heaven."

" Phaelice, I faint, farewell, my loyal spouse : thy husband dies,
assist me with thy prayers. I trust to meet thee in a better life,
where tears from weeping eyes shall be wiped before the blessed
Spirit ; come, in Jesus' name receive, and then convey my soul
to heaven." With these last words death closed his eyes, and he
to his Creator his blessed soul resigned, while mournful Phaelice,
well nigh dead with grief, to sorrow all her senses did abandon,
and with her tears drowns her departed lord ; beating her breast
till breast and heart were sore, wringing her hands till she could
no more strive. Then sighing said, " Ah ! cruel, cruel death, the
dismal, doleful cause of all my sorrows, thou hast deprived me of
my dearest lord. Since loathsome air my vital spirits draw, that
thou, to recompense me for my loss, would strike that stroke
which all my cares may kill : let me not see to-morrow's light,
but make me cold as this dead carcass that before me lies;
this true description of a mortal man :

f

Whose deeds of wonder, pass'd and gone before,
Hath left him now at death's dark prison door."

Kissing his face with a farewell of tears, she leaves the body
for the grave to claim ; and from that place she bears as sad a
soul as any of her sex on that occasion was ever known to do ;

4o8 THE HISTORY OF GUY EARL OF WARWICK.

her real grief soon sending her to her departed lord : living but
fifteen days after his death, and then, through extreme sorrow,
followed him.

THEIR EPITAPH.

UNDER this marble pile their lies a knight,

Whose great achievements oft perform'd in fight,

Has through earth's globe immortalised his name,

And given him a never-dying fame ;

For his great actions have perfumed the world,

Like incense upon sacred altars hurl'd.

To save his country he did his life expose,

'Gainst savage beasts, and far more savage foes ;

And in the height of all his valour's pride,

He always fought upon the justest side.

Nor in his youth more famed for war was he

Than in old age he was for piety ;

In pilgrimage to Palestine he went,

Upon himself imposing banishment :

All earthly pleasure he for heaven forsook,

And to a pilgrim's life himself betook.

Now here he rests in peace, and by his side

The fairest dame that ever made a bride ;

Who at so great a rate her lord did love

As none could equal but the bless'd above :

So bright their virtues were, when here alive,

Their names the world's great funeral shall survive.

All sure must know, by that which I have said,

That noble GUY and PH^ELICE here are laid.

THE

HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

VII.
THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

CHAPTER I.

How a Devil named Rush came to a Religious House to
seek a set vice.

vG wct$ some time beyond the sea edified and founded a
certain house and cloister of religious men, which house was
founded at a great forest's side, for to maintain the service of
Almighty God, and daily to pray for their benefactors and
founders, and for the salvation of their own souls. This place, by
reason of their founders and well-disposed people, which gave
unto it largely of their goods and possessions, increased in riches,
and every man had gold and silver at their will, and also of meat
and drink they had great plenty ; insomuch that they were so
well at ease and had so much that they wist not what to do, they
were so full of wantonness, whereby the service of Almighty
God was not well maintained among them. For oftentimes they
said neither matins nor evensong ; and through their great negli-
gence they forgot clean the charge that they were bound to when
they entered into their religion, and they lived more like beasts
without reason, than like men of good and holy conversation.

When the great Prince of Devils, which are the patrons of all
vices, understood of the great misrule and vile living of these
religious men, he consulted to keep them still in that state, and
worse if it might be.

And these be the names of the devils :— Belphegor, who was
Prince of Gluttony ; Asmodeus, Prince of Lechery ; and Beelze-

412 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

bub, Prince of Envy, who with many other devils assembled
together, rejoiced for the misorder of these religious men. And
as they were all assembled together with one accord, they chose a
Devil to go and dwell among these religious men, for to maintain
them the longer in their ungracious living. This Devil was put in
raiment like an earthly creature, and went to a religious house,
and there he stood at the gate a certain space all alone with a
heavy countenance.

Then, within a while after, the Prior came unto the gate and
espied Rush, the young man, standing there all alone.

Anon he said unto him, "What dost thou here, and what
wouldst thou have ? "

The young man with great reverence answered and said, " Sir,
I am a poor young man and out of service, and fain would have
a master. And, sir, if it please you to have me, I shall do you
diligent service, and shall do so well that you and all your
brethren and convent shall be glad of me ; for I shall keep so
well your secrets, that I trust to obtain at all times your good
love and favour, and all theirs also."

And when the Prior had heard his words, he was moved with
pity, and said, " Go into the kitchen to the Cook, and show him
that I have sent thee thither, and bid him show thee what thou
shalt do : for thou shalt be with him a certain season, till that
some other better thing fall."

Then the young man made his reverence to the Prior, and
thanked him, and forth he went to the kitchen, where he found
the master Cook.

Anon he made reverence unto him, and said, " Sir, my master
the Prior hath sent me hither unto you, and he commandeth you
to show me what I shall do, for I must be here and help you."

The master Cook answered and said, "You be welcome."
And anon he set him to such business as he had to do.

And thus the Devil became under Cook in the place that he
was assigned unto by the Prince of Devils. And then he said
(laughing to himself) as followeth :

" I am right glad that my purpose is come so well to pass, for

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 413

now all mine intent is fulfilled, and I doubt not but all shall be ours.
For I shall make such debate and strife among the Friars, that
they shall never be at concord and peace. And I shall make
them good staves wherewith the one shall beat well the other :
and oftentimes they shall lie together by the ears, insomuch that
there was never seen nor heard tell of such a rumour and discord
in no cloister in the world. And I shall use myself so, that I
shall be in great love and favour among them."

Then within four or five days after, it fortuned that the Prior
came into the kitchen, and there he found the young man, to
whom he said, "Where wast thou born, and what is thy
name ? "

The young man answered and said, " Sir, I was born very far
hence, and Rush is my name."

Then said the Prior unto him, "Rush, canst thou couple
hounds together ? "

" Yea, sir," said Rush, " that I can do right well ; and more
than that, I can convey a fair woman into your chamber, and
convey her home again so secretly, that no man shall spy it.
And also I shall keep your counsel so secretly that it shall never
be known."

And when the Prior heard Rush speak so, he was right glad of
him, and said, " Rush, if thou canst do as thou hast said, I shall
reward thee well for thy labour, and thou shalt be my most well-
beloved servant; wherefore make an end of thy business, for
soon thou shalt go a little way on a message for me." And so he
departed and went to supper.

And when every man had supped, and Rush had done all his
business in the kitchen, he came unto his master the Prior, and
said, " Sir, what is your will with me ? "

The Prior answered and said, " Here a little beside dwelleth
a fair gentlewoman, the which I love very well, but I dare not
discover my mind unto her myself. If thou canst find the means
to bring her secretly unto me, I shall reward thee right well for
thy labour and pain."

When Rush had heard the words of his master, and knew all

4I4 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

his mind, he answered and said, " Sir, be of good cheer, and let
me alone with that matter."

And so departed Rush from his master, and went straight unto
this gentlewoman's house. And when he was thither come, he
found the gentlewoman sitting all alone. And when Rush was
espied of her, he made unto her great courtesy, and with many
reverences these words he said :

" Rest you merry, fair Mistress, the most fairest creature in the
world. My Master greeteth you by me, desiring you to come
and speak with him."

Then said the Gentlewoman to Rush, " Who is your Master,
and what is his will with me ? "

".Fair Mistress," said Rush, "I will show you, My Master is
the Prior in a house of religion here beside, and he loveth you so
well except that you come unto him I know he will be dead for
sorrow."

And when the Gentlewoman had heard the words of Rush, she
answered and said, "Fair Sir, it were great pity that the gentle-
man should die for my sake, and rather than he should so do for
me, I will come to him, and show him all the courtesy that I
can."

Rush was very glad of those comfortable words, and forth they
went both together, till they came to the Prior's chamber. And
when the Prior saw that she was come, he was the gladdest man in
the world, and thanked Rush much for his labour and pain : and
so the Prior received her into his chamber, and there he made
her good cheer, and they had good meat and wine great plenty.
And when the other friars perceived that Rush was such a privy
fellow, and so well could keep counsel, they desired him to help
them also, and so he did. They were so blinded with ignorance,
that they never perceived that he was a very Devil, but every
man had him in love and favour.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 415

CHAPTER II.

How Friar Rush threw the master Cook into a kettle of water
seething upon the fin ', wherein he died.

IT befell upon a day that Rush went forth to sport him, and it
was very late ere he came home again, and the master Cook was
very angry with him that he was so long absent.

As soon as Rush was entered into the kitchen, the Cook began
to chide, and said unto him, " Thou knave, where hast thou been
so long ? " and with a great staff he laid upon Rush and beat him
sore.

And when Rush saw that the Cook was angry, and so far out
of reason, and that he had beateri him sore, anon he began to
wax very angry with the master Cook, and said unto him, "Thou
villain, why hast thou beaten me thus ? I will be revenged on
thee.11 Suddenly he caught him in his arms, and threw him into
a great kettle which was full of water seething upon the fire, and
said, "Lie thou there, in the Devil's name : for now thou shalt
neither fight nor chide no more with me : " and so Rush slew the
master Cook.

Then when he had so done, he departed out of the kitchen,
and went to the next town for his master. And in his absence
certain of the friars came into the kitchen to speak with Rush,
but they found nobody stirring therein, and some of them went
to stand by the fireside, to tarry till Rush came in : for they
thought he would not tarry long. And as they stood talking
by the fireside, they spied a man in the kettle seething upon
the fire. And anon they perceived that it was the master Cook,
whereof they were greatly abashed. And with that, crying out,
they went unto the Prior and showed him that the master Cook
had drowned himself in a kettle seething upon the fire in the
kitchen : for which tidings the Prior was right s6rry.

In the mean season Rush came home, and anon the friars
showed Rush of the great misfortune that was fallen on the master
Cook in the kitchen, and he made as he had been sorry there-

416 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

for, and had known nothing thereof, and he was in great love
and favour with the Prior and all the friars, that they mistrusted
him nothing for that deed, and so there was no more mention of
the master Cook. Then the Prior commanded that Rush should
be made Cook, and all the convent was right glad of that, and so
he was himself also, for he thought his enterprises came well to
pass after his mind, and as he would have it.

Thus Rush became master Cook in the kitchen, and dressed
their meat marvellous well : for in the Lent, and in the Advent,
both Fridays and also other days, he put bacon into their pottage-
pot, the which made the pottage to savour well. And he dressed
their meat so deliciously, that the Prior and all the friars had great
marvel that he did it so well : in so much that they said he did
much better than their other master Cook did, and that he was a
more cunninger man in his occupation, and could do much better
in his office. Thus Rush continued in that office the space of
seven years, and did right well, and every man had him in love
and favour.

Then it fortuned upon a day the Prior and his brethren were
assembled together in a general council, and as they stood talking
together, the Prior remembered Rush, and anon he said unto his
brethren, " Friends, we have here Rush, which is our master
Cook in our kitchen, and he is an old servant, and much diligent
and true service he hath done to us, and he hath continued among
us longer than any servant that ever we had : wherefore methink
it reason that he were promoted into some other office, and made
a Brother among us." Then all the whole convent with one voice
said they were content it should so be.

So the Prior sent for Rush, and when he was come before him
and all his brethren, the Prior said, "Rush, it is so ; thou hast been
here a long season, and we have found thee hitherto a true and
diligent servant, wherefore we will that thou be promoted, and
take upon thee an habit as we have, and to become a Brother
among us."

Rush answered and said, " My Masters, I thank you all," and
then the Prior gave Rush his habit, and put it on his back. And

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 417

so Rush became a Brother in the place ; nevertheless he kept his
office still.

How friar Ritsh made Truncheons for the Friars to fight withal.

WHEN Rush had on the habit of a Friar, and was a Brother in the
place, he had more vacation days than he had before. And as a
king or a great prince prepareth ordinances against their wars, in
likewise did Friar Rush : for when all his business was done in
the kitchen, and that he had leisure, he went and sat in the port
of the utter gate, and there he was making of good big truncheons
of oak. And he made them with hilts over the hand for slipping,
of the which the other Friars had great marvel, and demanded of
him wherefore he made those truncheons.

Rush answered and said, " Fair Sirs, I make them for this
intent : that if there come any thieves hither for to rob us, and
to spoil our place, yet shall we have weapons to defend us withal.
And therefore I make them. And, moreover, when any need
shall be, come to me and every man shall have one, and they
shall be ready at your commandment." And then the Friars
thanked him and so departed.

Then it fortuned upon a day, that the Prior and sub-Prior fell
at discord, and were grievously angry, the one with the other, and
would have fought together but only for shame ; nevertheless, the
anger abode still in their hearts. Within a while after, the noise
spread abroad among the Friars that the Prior and the sub-Prior
were fallen at discord, for the which they were angry in their
minds. And they that loved the Prior took his part ; and they
that loved the sub-Prior took his part : and so they murmured
among themselves.

Then they appointed in their minds to revenge their quarrels at
one time or other ; and so, to make a more surer way in fulfilling
their malicious minds and angry hearts, every man after other
went privately to Friar Rush to lend them staves, insomuch that
there was not a Friar in the place but he had one ; and they
never went without their staves under their habit, and the one

2 D

4l8 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

knew not that the other had any, they kept them so secretly. And
when Friar Rush had delivered all his staves he was right glad
in his heart, for he knew right well there should be a great fray
among them either one time or other.

So it fortuned afterward, as it is a common custom among
religious people at a high feast, to keep solemn service, and every
man to be at matins at midnight, and so upon a good night, all
the whole convent assembled together in the quier, and were
ready to begin matins; they tarried for nothing but for the
coming of the Prior. Then anon the Prior came into the quier,
and sat him down in his place, and as he looked about him, he
espied that the sub-Prior was there present. With that his. heart
began to grudge of the old anger that was fallen between them
two, and he thought in his mind that he could never be revenged
in a better time, and suddenly he rose out of his place and went
to the sub-Prior, and with his fist he gave him a good buffet.
The sub-Prior, who was moved with the stroke, started unto the
Prior and gave him another buffet : and with that they went
freshly together by the ears. And when the other Friars saw
that, every man rose out of their places and drew out their
truncheons, and together they went : who had been there should
have seen good buffets given on both parties.

When Friar Rush saw that they were fighting together, anon
he blew out all the candles and lamps that were burning in the
church, and left no manner of light therein whereby the one might
see the other : and when he had so done, he took his truncheon
in his hand, and went into the quier among the thickest of the
Friars, the which were fighting freshly without light, and there he
laid so lustily about, that many of them he felled to the ground,
and left them there for dead. And when he had so done, he
stole his way from them, and as he went, he found standing in
the portal of the quier a great old desk. And anon he took the
desk between both his hands and threw it over the portal into the
quier among all the Friars, and hurt many sore, in so much that
some had an arm broken and some a leg, and other some had
their noses clean pared from their faces, that the blood ran in

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 419

their mouths, and as for broken heads to the hard scalp were
no dainty, for every man had one, there escaped none free away.
Who had been there should have had a goodly pastime to see the
Friars creep about the quier, and instead of Domine labia they
cried out, " Alas and well away ! "

Then when the fray was done and all the noise ceased, Rush
came in among them with a candle-light in his hand, and made
as he had known nothing thereof, and said to them, "Fie for
shame, Sirs ! how fortuned this discord to fall among yourselves?
I see well now you regard not your honour, nor the good name
of your place. All the people shall say ye be not honest, nor
good religious men, the which words I would be loth to hear,
and I may not suffer our place so to fall in an evil name : where-
fore, good Masters, I require you to set your hearts at rest, and put
the matter into my hands, and I shall do so much that all shall
be well, and you shall be good friends again, and no words shall
be spoken thereof." Then every man complained to him of their
great hurt. And he made semblance as he had been sorry there-
for; and then they that could go went up to their cells, and
they that could not go did creep up as well as they could, and
laid them down in their beds, and there they lay till they were
whole again.

And in the space of three weeks and more God was evil served,
for in all that space they sung neither matins nor evensong, nor
never entered into the church, for it was suspended, and for shame
they durst never let it be known. And when they were all whole,
and every man upon his feet again, and might go about the house,
they brought again their staves to Friar Rush, and thanked him
much, and then Friar Rush said unto them, " Sirs, when ye
have need of them again, ye shall find them ready here at your
commandment," for which they gave him thanks, and departed.

When Friar Rush saw that they were gone, and that he had
all his staves again, he laughed unto .himself and said, " I am
right joyful that mine enterprises be come so well to pass, for I
have done many mischievous deeds since I came first, and yet I
will do more before I depart hence. For I shall cause them to

420 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

be damned, and I shall bring their bodies and souls into the
burning fire of hell, there to remain world without end and of
me shall be spoken a thousand years hereafter."

How Friar Rush grimed the waggon with tar> and what
cheer he made in the country.

ANOTHER time it fortuned that the Prior had a journey to ride
into the country about a little business that he had there to do,
and anon he called Rush his servant unto him and said, " Rush,
go thy way into the court, and take with thee a dishful of grease,
and grease well the wheels and axletrees of the waggon, and make
all things ready against to-morrow in the morning, for I must ride
forth to-morrow betimes."

Then Rush departed from his master, and went about his
business, and instead of grease, he took a great vessel full of tar,
and anointed the waggon all over with it, both within and without,
and especially in the place where the Prior should sit : and when
he had done, he returned to his master's chamber. Then the
Prior demanded of Rush if he had done as he commanded him.
" Yea, Sir," said Rush, "ye may ride when please you." And so
they went to their beds. Then on the morrow after, the Prior
and Rush his servant, with his other company, rose up very early
in the morning for to accomplish their journey, and forth they
went unto their waggon. And when the Prior was entered
therein, he perceived himself all to be berayed l and smeared,
and all his clothes were filed therewith : and then he said to
Rush, " Thou lewd fellow, what hast thou done to this waggon
that I am thus arrayed therein?"

Rush answered and said, "Sir, I have done nothing but as
you commanded me."

"That is not," said the Prior, "for I commanded thee to take
grease and grease but the wheels and the axletrees, and thou hast
taken tar and anointed it all over, both within and without Why
hast thou done so ? "

1 Berayed, befouled.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 421

" Sir," said Rush, " I understood you bade me do so."

And when the Prior saw there was no other remedy, he com-
manded his servants to make ready another waggon, and in the
mean season the Prior went into his chamber and put on another
habit, and came again and mounted into the waggon and went their
way, and so long they rode that they came to their journey's end.

And when they were alighted at their lodging the Prior called
for his supper, and anon everything was made ready, and the
good man of the house and the Prior sat down to supper together
and made good cheer ; and then the Prior called for wine of the
best, and anon he had his commandment. And when the good
man of the house and the Prior had supped, Rush and his fellows
sat down to the reversions that their masters had left. But they
had no wine : wherefore Rush was very sad, and ever he mused
by what policy he might get some wine. And anon he called
the wife of the house and said, "Mistress, I pray you fill a
bottle of wine for me and my fellows," and so she did: and
when that was gone they called for another : and then they
called for the third, and so ended their supper. Then on the
morrow, when the Prior had done all his business, and was ready
to return home again, he called for a reckoning. And anon the
good wife came in and gave him a reckoning of all things, both
horse meat and man's meat ; and at last she reckoned three
bottles of wine that Rush and his fellows had. And when the
Prior heard that his servants had drunk so much wine, anon he
began to wax very angry, and asked her who commanded her to
fill in so much wine ?

The wife answered and said, "Sir, Rush your servant com-
manded me to fill it in, and he said that you should pay therefor."

Then anon the Prior called for Rush, and said unto him,
" Thou lewd knave, why hast thou drunk so much wine ? Might
no less than bottles serve thee and thy fellows ? "

"Sir," said Rush, "we have not drunk so much, for your horses
hath had two of the bottles."

"My horses!" said the Prior; "what should they do with
wine ? "

422 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

"Yes, Sir/' said Rush, "your horses laboured sorer than we
did, and were very weary, and they had nothing but hay and oats ;
wherefore, methought it needful to give them some good drink
to their coarse meat to comfort their hearts withal, and to cause
them to be the lustier, and to have the better courage to bring
you homeward."

And when the Prior had heard that answer of Rush, and saw
there was no remedy but patience, he paid for the wine, and all
things that he had taken there, and so rode home in his waggon ;
and Friar Rush never went forth again with his master.

How the Prior made Friar Rush Sexton among the friars, and
how he charged him to give him knoivledge how many Friars
were absent from matins at midnight^ and what they were.

WHEN the Prior was come home, he made Friar Rush sexton
of the church, and his office was to ring the bell and to light the
candles, and to call the Friars to matins at midnight • and also
the Prior commanded Rush and charged him that he should take
good heed that there were none of the Friars absent from matins,
and if there were, to give him knowledge thereof. Then said
Rush to his master, "Sir, all your commandment shall be ful-
filled," and so they departed.

And within three or four nights after, Rush espied certain of
the Friars that were absent, and he marked them well, and on
the morrow after he presented them to the Prior. And anon
the Prior caused them to come before him, and gave them a
check for their being absent. In a little time Rush had pre-
sented them all, which caused the Prior to be greatly offended
with them.

When they perceived that Rush had made such complaints
against them, they had him in much disdain, but they could not
amend it ; for he had them in such great fear, that never after
they durst be absent, but well was he that might be first in the
quier. When Rush perceived the Friars had him in so great fear,
he devised to do some mischievous thing among them ; and upon

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 423

a night, a little before he should ring to matins, he went and
brake down the stairs of the dorter,1 and when he had so done,
he went and rung to matins, and lighted the lamps and candles
in the church, and went into the dorter, and called up the Friars,
and so came and sat at the stairs-foot as he was wont to do.

He had sitten there but a while, but anon there came one, who
tli ought no hurt but to go soberly into the quier as he was wont
to do, and when he came to the stairs down he fell, and had a
marvellous great fall. Then said Rush, " Thou art one." Pre-
sently there came another, and likewise down he fell, and had
a sore fall. " Thou art two," said Rush. Anon came the third
Friar, which had a mighty great belly, and was a gross man, and
he made great haste, for he feared that he should have been last,
and when he came to the stairs down he fell on his fellows' necks,
and he was so great and so heavy that almost he had mischieved
his fellows that lay under him. "Thou makest three," said
Rush. And with that there came seven or eight together, and
down they fell all at once. " Softly, Masters, for shame," said Rush;
"ye come too many at once. Ye were not wont to be so hasty,
but now I perceive well ye would deceive me, and one would
excuse the other, and therefore ye come so thick to blind me in
my tale. How should I now give account to the Prior of them
that be absent ? Surely, I cannot tell, but now I see well ye be
too subtle for me. I would some other man had my office," and
made as though he had been very angry with them.

Then the Friars, such as could go, though it were to their
pains, rose up again and limping went into the quier, and they
that fell first and lay under were sore hurt and could not go, and
specially the Friar with the great belly. Yet, nevertheless, they
crept into the quier as well as they could. And when they were
all assembled together in the quier, each of them complained to
other of their great hurts, and so they began matins. Who had
been there should have heard a heavy song and a sad, for they
were not merry in their hearts, their pains were so great.

When matins was done they that could go went up again into
1 Dorter, dormitory.

424 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

their lodgings, and they that could not go lay still in the quier all
night. On the morrow word was brought to the Prior of the great
misfortune that was fallen among the Friars at midnight ; for the
which misfortune the Prior was greatly displeased and angry in
his mind, and thought verily it was Rush's deed, for he had done
divers evil turns before.

Then the Prior sent for Rush to come speak with him, and
when he was come, the Prior said unto Rush, " How fell this
misfortune to-night among the Friars, that they be so sore hurt?"

"Sir," said Rush, l< I will show you. It is not unknown unto
you that when you put me first into this office ye commanded
me to give you knowledge when any of my brethren were absent
from matins, and so have I done divers times, whereby many of
them have been shent and chidden by you, and for that cause they
owe me evil will, and fain would have me out of this office, if
they wist how. And for to accomplish their desire, and to cause
you to be displeased with me, I shall show you what they have
done this night. Sir, it is so, that when the time was come I rung
to matins, and lighted candles, and made all things ready, and
when I had so done I went into the dorter to every man's cell and
called them up, then 1 went and stood at the stairfoot for to tell
them as they came down, as I was accustomed to do, and to know
who came to matins and who did not. And for spite that I
should not reckon them, they came all on a cluster, and for haste
the one thrust the other down the stairs, and he that had the
greatest belly had the hardest fall. Now, if they hurt themselves,
what might I do withal ? "

And when the Prior had heard the words of Rush he wist not
what to say, but for to void all tribulations and misfortunes that
might fall in time to come, he put Rush out of his office and set
him in the kitchen again. And when he was there all alone, he
laughed to himself and said, " This enterprise is well brought to
pass, and I have made a good excuse thereof to the Prior ; yea,
will I do more ere I depart out of this place."

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 425

How Rush went forth a-sporting, and was late forth, and how in
his way coming home he found a cow, which cow he divided into
two parts ; the one half he took on his neck and carried it with
him, and the other half he left still. And how soon he had
made it ready for the Friar f suppers.

IT befell upon a time that Rush, when all his business was done
in the kitchen, he would go forth into the country to sport him,
and to pass the time with good company. As he walked on his
way, his chance was to come into a village, which was two or three
miles from the place where he did dwell, and when he was entered
into the village he looked round about him in every corner to find
out some company to make merry withal.

At the last he espied an alehouse, and in he entered, and there
he found good fellows playing at cards, and drinking, and made
cheer. Then Rush made obeisance to them, and sat down
among them, and drank with the players, and afterwards he fell
to play, and was as merry as any man in the company. So long
he played and passed the time, that clean he had forgotten what
he had to do at home, and the day went fast away, and the night
approached.

Anon Rush looked up and perceived that it was almost night,
remembered himself that there was nothing ready at home for the
Prior's supper and convent, and it was almost supper time, where-
fore he thought it was time to depart thence. So he paid for his
drink and took his leave, and homeward he went. And in his
way he found a fat cow grazing in the field, and suddenly he
divided her into two parts ; the one half he left lying there still,
and the other half he took on his neck and carried it home, and
quickly he made it ready. Some he put in the pot, and some
upon the spit, and he made a great fire and set on the pot, and
laid to the spit : and he made marvellous good pottage, and
roasted the meat very well, and he made such speed, that every-
thing was ready by the hour accustomed to go to supper, whereof
the Prior and all the Friars had great marvel, that he had made
everything ready so soon, and was so well done ; for they knew

426 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

that it was late ere he came home. For some of the Friars had
been in the kitchen a little before, and saw neither cook nor fire,
nor anything prepared toward supper, wherefore they gave great
praise to Rush, and said he was very quick in his office.

How a Farmer of the Prior's sought his Cow, and how he was
desolated by the way homeward^ and was fain to lie in a hollow
tree ; and of the vision that he had.

THERE was a poor husbandman, dwelling there beside, which
was a farmer of the Prior's : the which poor man had a cow
abroad in the fields, that was accustomed every night to come
home at a certain hour, and never failed. And at the last a mis-
chance fell unto her, for Friar Rush had slain her as she stood in
the field, and so she failed of her coming home at her hour as
she was wont to do.

And when the poor man saw that his cow came not home, he
thought in his mind it was not well with her, so forth he went in
an evening for to seek his cow, and so long he travelled about in
the fields, that at the last he found the one half of his cow lying
there. But the other half was clean gone, and she was so cleanly
divided in two parts, that he imagined in his mind that it was not
possible to be done but by man's hands, for if any wild beasts
had done it they would have spoiled the flesh. So he returned
homeward again, and ere he came at the half way, the night was
so dark that he could not see which way he went, and so he went
out of his way, and house could he find none. At the last he
came to an hollow tree wherein he sat him down, thinking there
to take his rest all night, and he had not sat there but a while,
but anon there assembled a company of Devils, and among them
they had a great principal master whose name was Lucifer, and
he was the first that spake.

And the first that was called was a Devil, named Belzabub, and
with a loud voice he said unto him, " Belzabub, what hast thou
done for us ? "

Belzabub answered and said, "Sir, I have caused debate and

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 427

strife to fall between brother and brother, insomuch the one hath
slain the other."

" That is well done," said the master Devil, <( thou shalt be well
rewarded for thy labour."

Then forth he called another Devil, named Incubus, and
demanded of him what he had done ?

" Sir," said Incubus, " I have caused great debate and strife to
fall between two lords, through the which they have had great
wars, and many men have been slain."

Then said the master Devil, " Thou art a true servant to us,
thou shalt be well rewarded for thy great labour and pain."

Then said the great master unto another Devil, named Norpell,
"What hast thou done for us?"

" Sir," said Norpell, " I have been among players at the dice
and cards, and I have caused them to swear many great oaths,
and the one to slay the other : and also I have caused debate and
strife to fall between man and wife, and caused the wife to cut
her husband's throat."

" That was well done," said the master, " thou shalt be well
rewarded for thy labour."

Then forth came another Devil named Downesnest, and said,
" Sir, I have caused two old women to fight so sore together, and
to beat each other about the head, that their eyes flew out."

" That was well done," said the master Devil, " with much
thank thou shalt be rewarded for thy labour."

Then forth went Friar Rush freshly, and with a good courage,
and said, " Sir, I am in a religious place, and I govern the prior
and his convent as I will myself, and they have me in great love
and favour ; for I do them many great pleasures, and divers times
I have caused debate and strife to fall among them, and I have
made them staves, and caused them to fight stiffly together, and to
break each other's heads, and their arms and legs, and yet will I
do more among them ere I depart out of the place, for I shall
make so great debate and strife among them that the one shall
slay the other, then they shall come and dwell with us in hell, and
burn in perpetual fire without end."

428 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

Then said the master Devil to Rush, " If thou have done as
thou hast said, thou hast done well thy part, and I pray thee be
diligent thyself about thy business, and stir them to sin, and
specially to these three, that is to say, wrath, gluttony, and lechery,
and briefly to make an end of thy enterprise, and slip it not : and
when thou hast done, come home, and thou shalt be highly
exalted and well rewarded for thy great labour and pain."

When Rush had told his tale, the great master Devil com-
manded every Devil to go his way and do the best he could ; and
thus they departed. Some went one way and some another, and
thus they were scattered abroad in the world, to finish and make
an end of their enterprises that they had taken in hand.

And when the poor husbandman which sat in the tree saw that
all the Devils were departed and gone, he rejoiced in his heart
and was right glad thereof, for as long as they were there, he was
ever in great fear and dread. He was afraid that they should have
seen him there, and ever he prayed unto Almighty God to be his
guard, and save him from that foul and evil favoured company of
devils, and to send him the light of the day that he were gone
out of that place. For he was weary that he abode there so long,
and oftentimes he looked up to see if he could perceive any light
of the day whereby he might see to depart thence, for till then he
durst not once stir out of that place, for he feared that they had
been there still. Then within a while after, the day began to
appear, and when he perceived that, anon he started up and
looked round about him abroad in the fields, and when he per-
ceived that there was nobody stirring, he thanked Almighty God
that he was preserved out of that great jeopardy, and so departed.

How the Farmer which lay in the tree came unto the Prior on the
morrow after, and tolde him the wordes that he had heard, and
the words of Friar Rushy that he was a very devil.

As soon as the day began to appear the poor Farmer arose out of
the tree, and took his way straight to the Prior, and he would
never rest till he had spoken with him. And when he was come

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 429

to his speech, anon he said : " Sir, this night hath fortuned to me
a great adventure."

"How so?" said the Prior.

"Sir, yesternight late in the evening, I walked forth in the
fields to seek a cow which I have missed this four or five days,
and so long I wandered abroad till at the last I found the one
half of my cow, but the other half was gone. And as I would
have returned home again I was benighted so sore that I lost my
way. Then I wist not whither to go, but spying a hollow tree, I
sat me down, thinking there to take my rest till the day appeared
again. And I had not sitten there but a while, but instantly
there was assembled a great company of devils, which made a
marvellous great noise, whereof I was sore afraid. They had
among them a great master named Lucifer, who called all the
rest to make a reckoning of all their service they had done since
they departed out of hell. There I heard many marvellous tales.
At the last forth came Friar Rush. Then said the great master
Lucifer unto him, 'Rush, what hast thou done since thou de-
parted out of hell ? ' and he answered that he had ruled you and
all your convent, and caused you to chide and fight, and were
never in unity and peace among yourselves. And he said he had
caused you to live viciously, and yet he said he would do more
ere he departed out of this place, for he will cause you to kill
each other, and then you should be damned in hell, both body and
soul. And so every devil departed and went about their business.
Wherefore take heed, for he is a very devil."

And when the Prior had heard the words of the Farmer, he
thanked him for his labour, and so they departed. The Farmer
went home to his house, but the Prior was marvellously abashed
at the words of the Farmer, and went into his chamber and was
much grieved in his heart that he had so lewdly misordered him-
self against his Lord God. And with great contrition he kneeled
down upon his knees, and asked Almighty God mercy and for-
giveness for the great and grievous offences that he had com-
mitted and done against Him, and that he had so vilely misused
the order of his religion. And when he had thus done he de-

430 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

parted out of his chamber and went into the cloister, and caused
all his brethren to come together. And when they were all
assembled, the Prior told them every word as the husbandman
had told him, and that Rush was a very devil and no earthly
creature ; at the which they were sore astonished, and were right
sorry in their hearts that they had followed him so much in his
mind, and done after his counsel, and were heavy in their hearts
for their great and abominable sins that they had committed and
done, and with great contrition they knelt down upon their knees
and desired Almighty God for grace and pardon. Then the
Prior caused every man to fall to contemplation and prayer.

Then forth they went and did the Prior's commandment, and
briefly made them ready, and went to prayer all at once. And
when they were come to the midst of their service the Prior
departed out of the church and went to the kitchen, wherein lie
found Rush, who was there very busy. Then the Prior com-
manded him to stand still, and by virtue of Almighty God and of
all the company of heaven, he conjured Rush into the likeness
of a horse, and commanded him to go and stand at the gate in
the same place that he stood in when he came thither first, and
to stand there till service was done. So forth went Rush in the
likeness of a horse, and stood at the gate as the Prior had com-
manded him.

And when service was done, the Prior and his brethren went
to the gate to see what case Rush was in j and when they were
come thither they found him standing in the likeness of a horse.

Then they demanded him to what intent he came into their
place, and why he tarried there so long.

" Sirs," said Rush, " I came hither to cause you to do all mis-
chief, as is aforesaid, and yet I would have done more ere I had
gone hence ; for I would have caused you to slay one another, and
to be damned both body and soul."

And when they had heard the words of Rush, every man held
Up his hands and thanked Almighty God that they had so well
escaped that great misfortune.
• Th^n Rush desired the Prior license to depart thence, and

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 431

promised that he would never more come there, nor do any man
more hurt; upon that condition the Prior gave him leave to
depart. Thus Rush departed from the place, and the Friars
went to their cloister, and lived there solitary and chaste ever
after, and served Almighty God better than ever they did before.

The Lamentation that Rush made when he was departed out
of the house of Religion.

WHEN Rush was banished out of the house of Religion, and
was turned into the same likeness that he was, then he wandered
abroad in the world with an heavy heart, and these words he
said: "Alas, alas, what shall I do? I wot not now whither to
go, for all my seven years' labour is lost."

And as he wandered about, by fortune he met with his master
Lucifer, but he would not have seen him by his will. Nevertheless
his master espied him quickly, and said to him, " Rush, what
tidings with thee ? "

" Sir," said Rush, " I have lost all my labour that I have gone
about this seven years."

" How so ? " said his master.

" Sir, I shall show you," said Rush. " The last time that we
were assembled together, there was a poor man lay in an old tree
hard beside us, and he heard all that we said j and when we were
departed, he arose and went unto the Prior and showed him all
that we said, and specially the words that I had spoken, and so
all my labour is lost, and I am banished that place."
: " Well," said the master Devil to Rush, " thou shalt go some
other way abroad, and look if thou canst find anything to do."

Then Rush walked about in the country, and long it was ere
he could get any service : At last he fortuned to come unto a
husbandman's house which lacked a servant, where he was enter-
tained, but sore against the wife's consent For this husband-
man's wife was a very fair woman, and she loved well the parish
Priest, and he loved her again, insomuch that oftentimes they
made good cheer and banqueted together, and so continued and

432 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

kept company together a long time. Their meeting was so privy
and so secret that it was never known, and they, sure enough of
the good man, for he was accustomed every morning to rise early
and to go far into the field. And because his wife would pre-
vent his coming home to dinner, she would always give him his
victuals in a bag with him. and a bottle full of drink, to the intent
he should tarry in the fields from morning to night. She would
not suffer him to keep a servant, or to have any manner of help :
for she was afraid that if they should have a servant, her secrets
should be known, and the goodman also feared that if he should
take a servant, that he would have but little lust to tarry there ;
for the Devil himself could not endure the chiding and brawling
of that woman.

Hoiv Rush came to a Husbandman labouring in the field and
desired to be entertained into his service.

RUSH travelling up and down, came to a Husbandman who was
labouring in the field, being all alone, and spake these words
unto him : " Rest you merry, sir, methinks you take great pains
to work so sore yourself ; will it please you to entertain a servant ?
I am a poor young man and am out of service, and I am very
willing to serve you if you please : and I trust to do you such
service, as shall be to your good content."

The husbandman answered him, and said : " Young man, I
would gladly give you entertainment, but my wife will never be
pleased with any servant that shall come into my house."

" Sir," said Rush, " let me alone, for I shall so work the matter,
that my dame shall be well pleased with me."

" Well," said the husbandman, " tarry with me till I have done
my business, and thou shalt go home with me."

When he. had finished his day's work, Rush went home with
him. They were no sooner come into the house, but the wife espy-
ing Rush, she began to gloom and to look marvellous angrily at
him : which the good man perceiving, he said unto her, " Dame,
I pray thee to be contented, thou knowest well enough that I

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 433

have more labour to do than I am able to make an end of alone,
and therefore I have hired this young man to help me."

When his wife heard those words, she was more angry than
before, and began to brawl and scold as if the Devil had been
in her, and said unto him : " What a vengeance needest thou to
take a servant ? thou art able enough thyself to do all the busi-
ness that we have to do, and why should we take more charge
upon us than we are able to bear ? but I now perceive thou art
given to laziness, and hast little mind to work thyself."

When the good man heard her so highly displeased, he said,
" Dame, I pray thee be contented, the young man is honest,
and he hath promised me to be a good servant."

Yet for all these speeches she would not be pacified, but
brawled still.

When Rush perceived her great impatience, he said unto her,
" Dame, I pray you be contented, and be not angry with me, for
you shall have no cause. My master hath hired me but for a
while, upon a trial, and I trust, in that time, so to behave myself,
as to give you both content. When my time cometh out, if you
like my service you shall have it before any other whatsoever ;
if not, I will be very well content to depart."

When the wife heard Rush speak so reasonably, she pacified
herself, and said no more ; which caused the good man to be
very glad, and so she set them to supper.

As they sat at meat, Rush demanded of his master what he
should do the next day ? His master answered, " Thou must rise
early and go to the field, and make an end of that which I was
about this day." Which was a great day's work. So when they
had supped they went to bed.

Early in the morning Rush arose and went to the field, and
wrought so lustily, that he had done his work betimes ; for when
his master came to bring him his breakfast, all his work was
finished, whereat his master had great marvel. Then they sat
down to breakfast, which being ended they went home, and did
such things as were there to be done. When his dame saw that

2 E

434 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

he had so soon ended his business, she thought that he was a
profitable servant, and said little but let him alone.

In the evening Rush demanded of his master what he should
do the next morrow ? His master appointed him twice so much
as he did the day before, which Rush refused not, but got up
early in the morning, and went to the field, and about his work.
So soon as his master was ready, he took his man's breakfast and
came to the field, thinking to help Rush. He was no sooner
come from his house but the Priest came to see his wife, and
presently she made ready some good meat for them to be merry
withal. And when the goodman .came to the field, he found
that Rush had done all that which he appointed, whereof he had
great marvel. Then they sat down to breakfast, and as they sat
together, Rush beheld his master's shoon, and perceived that for
fault of greasing they were very hard. Then said Rush to his
master, " Why are not your shoes better greased ? I marvel that
you can go in them, they be so hard; have you no more at
home ? "

"Yes," said his master, "I have another pair lying under a
great chest at home in my chamber."

Then said Rush, " I will go home and grease them, that you
may put them on to-morrow;" and so he walked homeward
merrily and sung by the way. And when he approached near the
house he sang out very loud. With that his dame looked out at
the window, and perceived that it was her servant She said
unto the Priest, "Alas, what shall we do? our servant is come
home, and my husband will not be long after." And with that
she thrust the meat into the oven, and all that was upon the
table.

"Where shall I hide me?" said the Priest

" Go into the chamber, and creep under the great chest among
the old shoon, and I shall cover you," and so he did.

And when Rush was come into the house his dame asked him
why he came home so soon? Rush answered and said, " I have
done all my business, and my master commanded me to come
home and grease his shoon." Then he went into the chamber

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 435

and looked under the chest, and there he found the Priest, and he
took him by the heels and drew him out, and said, " Thou Priest,
what dost thou here ? " With that, the Priest held up his hands
and cried him mercy, and desired him to save his honesty, and
he would never more come there ; and so Rush let him go for
that once.

How Rush came home to make clean the stable^ and how he found
the Priest under the manger covered with straw.

WITHIN a while after this foresaid Priest thought once again to
adventure himself and go to the husbandman's house. When he
perceived that the goodman and Rush his servant was in the
field a labouring, he went with all speed to the house, and when
he was entered, the wife said he was welcome, and made ready
a good dish of meat, and set it on the table before the Priest,
then she drew drink and sat down beside him. They had not sitten
there long, but anon Rush came singing homeward, and when
she espied him she was abashed and wist not what to do, but
thrust the meat into the oven as she did before.
Then said the Priest, "Where shall I hide me?"
" Come with me," said the wife, " into the stable, and creep
under the manger, and I shall cover you with straw, and tarry
there till he be gone again."

Then she turned again into the house, where she found
Rush her servant, and anon she demanded of him why he came
home so soon ? Rush answered that he had done all his busi-
ness, and he was come to make clean the stable. When the
wife heard that, she was sorry in her heart, for she doubted that
he would find the Priest again. Then forth went Rush into the
stable, and took a great fork in his hand and began to shake up
the straw : and when he came to the heap that the Priest lay in,
the which seemed to him very great, yet nevertheless with his
fork he took all up at once and bare it out of the door, and laid
it on a great heap of muck that lay there. And with his fork he
shaked the straw abroad, and when he had shaken out a little,

436 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

anon he was aware of the Priest's gown. Then he said, " What
a devil art thou ? " and with his fork he turned the heap, and then
he perceived that the Priest was come again. Then with his fork
he gave him three or four good dry stripes and said, " Thou Priest,
what dost thou here? Thou promised me the last day never
more to come here, and now I see thou art a false Priest. But
now I shall make an end of thee, and then shalt thou never de-
ceive me more." And when the Priest heard him say so, he fell
upon his knees and held up his hands, and prayed Rush to save
his honour once again and he would never come there more, and
if he did, then to do with him what he would.
Thus Rush let the Priest go the second time.

How Rush came home and found the Priest in the cheese-basket,
and how he trailed him about the town.

THEN within a fortnight or three weeks after, the Priest thought
he was long absent from the husbandman's wife. And though
it should cost him his life yet would he go thither once again.
And on a day he perceiving the goodman was gone to the field,
he took his way unto the house, and his wife quickly went and
prepared good cheer for him, as she was wont to do ; for they
thought themselves sure enough for the time, but yet they were
deceived. For when the goodman was come to the field, Rush
had done all his business. Then they sat down and broke their
fast with bread and cheese ; and as they sat eating, Rush spied a
hair in the cheese, and then he said to his master, " I trow my
dame would poison us, or else she washeth not the basket that
the cheese lieth in. Behold it is all full of hairs. I will go home
and wash the basket and make it clean."

So leaving his master in the field and walking homewards, he
sung merrily all the way. And when he approached near the
house, the wife knew his voice and perceived that he was coming.
Then wringing her hands she said unto the Priest, " Go hide you,
or else you be but dead."

" Where shall I hide me?" said the Priest.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 437

" Go up into the chamber and leap into the basket that hangeth
out at the window, and I shall call you when he is gone again."

Then anon in came Rush, and she asked him why he came
home so soon. Then said Rush, " I have done all my business
in the field, and my master hath sent me home to wash your
cheese-basket, for it is full of hairs." So he went into the chamber,
and with his knife he cut the rope that the basket hung by, and
down fell Priest and all into a great pool of water that was under
the window. Then went he into the stable for a horse and rode
into the pool, and took the rope that hung at the basket, and tying
it to the horse's tail, rode through the pool three or four times.
Then he rode through the town to cause the people to wonder at
him, and so came home again. And all this while he made as
though he had known nothing, but looking behind him, espied
the Priest.

Then he alighted down and said unto him : " Thou shalt never
more escape me, thy life is lost." With that the Priest held up
his hands and said, " Here is a hundred pieces of gold : take
them, and let me go."

So Rush took the gold and let the Priest go. And when his
master came home he gave him the half of his money and bade
him farewell, for he would go see the world.

How Rush became a servant to a Gentleman, and how the Devil
was conjured out of the body of the Gentleman's daughter.

WHEN Rush was departed from the husbandman, he went abroad
in the country to look if he could find any more adventures ; and
so long he travelled about that at last he espied a gentleman's
place, unto the which he took his way. And when he was come
thither, as chance was, he found the gentleman walking up and
down before his gate. And when Rush was appeared near unto
him, he put off his bonnet and saluted him saying : " Rest you
merry, good Gentleman."

"Welcome," said he.

"Sir," said Rush, " I am a poor young man and am out of
service, and fain would I have a good master."

438 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

" What countryman art thou ? " said the Gentleman ; " and from
whence comest thou ? "

" Sir," said Rush, " I was born far hence, and many a mile
have I gone to seek a good service, but none can I find."

" What canst thou do ? " said the Gentleman ; " and what is thy
name ? "

" Sir," said Rush, "I can do any manner of thing that shall
please you to set me unto, and Rush is my name."

Then said the Gentleman unto him, " Rush, tarry here with me,
and I will retain thee in my .service."

When Rush heard the Gentleman speak so, he thanked him
much and tarried there.

Then as the Gentleman and Rush went talking together, the
Gentleman said unto him, " Rush, thou hast travelled far and
gone through many strange countries : canst thou show me where
to find any man can conjure a spirit out of a woman's body ? "

" Sir," said Rush, " why ask you me that question ? "

" I shall show thee," said the Gentleman. " I have a daughter
which is a fair young woman, but she is sore troubled in her
mind, and as I suppose she hath some Devil within her body."

"Sir," said Rush, "I pray you let me see her, and I trust
speedily to find remedy for her."

Then the Gentleman brought Rush into the place and showed
him his daughter. And when he saw her he knew what she had
within her body : Anon he said unto the Gentleman, " Sir, there
is remedy enough for this."

" Well," said the Gentleman, " if thou canst find me any that
can help her thereof, I will reward him well for his labour, and
thee also."

" Sir, I will show you what is to be done. There is a place of
religion a forty or fifty miles hence, wherein I was a servant a
long time, and the Prior is a cunning man in that science : and
I doubt not, but if he were here even now, she should be holpen
within this hour."

When the Gentleman heard the words of Rush, he rejoiced in
his heart and was full glad of that good tidings.

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 439

And on the morrow after, the Gentleman sent his servant with
his letters unto that house of religion, desiring the Prior to come
and speak with him. When the Prior had read the Gentleman's
letters, and knew for what cause he was sent for, he made him
ready to ride with the messenger. Then forth they rode, and the
next day they arrived at the Gentleman's place.

When the Gentleman understood that the Prior was come,
he was glad and went to the gate, and with great reverence he
received the Prior, and brought him into his place. Then the
Gentleman commanded his servant to fill a cup of wine, that the
Prior and he might drink together. And when they had drunk
and refreshed themselves well, they walked forth into a fair garden,
and they communed together of many things, and when they had
finished all their communications, the Gentleman said unto the
Prior : " Sir, the cause that you be come hither is this. It is so,
that I have a young Gentlewoman to my daughter which is
grievously vexed and troubled in her mind, and as I suppose she
hath some wicked spirit in her body, and, sir, it was showed me
by a servant of mine which was long servant in your place, that
you could help her."

" Sir," said the Prior, " what is his name ? "

The Gentleman said, " His name is Rush."

And when the Prior heard his name he knew him well enough,
and said unto the Gentleman, "Sir, cause the gentlewoman to
come before me, and I trust in Almighty God shortly to find a
remedy for her."

When the Gentleman heard the Prior speak so, he was glad in
his heart, and commanded in all haste to bring forth his daughter
before the Prior : and when she was come into his presence, he
commanded her to kneel down upon her knees, and also he com-
manded her father and her mother, and all the company that were
there present, in likewise to kneel upon their knees, and pray unto
Almighty God for the young Gentlewoman. And then he himself
said certain prayers over her. Then he lifted up his hand and
blessed her, and incontinent there flew a great Devil out of her
mouth.

440 THE HISTORY OF FRIAR RUSH.

And the Prior bound the Devil so, that never after he came
there. Thus was the young Gentlewoman restored to her right
mind and health again.

Then the Gentleman would have given to the Prior a great sum
of money for his labour, but he would take none, but said unto
the Gentleman : " Sir, I have a new church in- building, and I
lack lead to cover the roof: and as it is informed me, this is
a plentiful country thereof. Wherefore, sir, if it will please you
to give me as much as shall serve me : I and my brethren shall
be your daily beadsmen, and you shall be prayed for as long as
the world endureth."

" Ye shall have as much as shall serve you," said the Gentle-
man ; " but how will ye do for the carriage? "

"Well enough," said the Prior.

Then the Gentleman brought him to a great heap of lead, and
bade him take as much as would serve him. Presently the Prior
called forth Rush and commanded him to take on his neck so
much lead as would cover his church, and bear it home, and
come again quickly. So Rush took the lead on his neck at once
and carried it home, and he was there again within half an hour.
Then the Prior took his leave of the Gentleman and departed,
commanding Rush to bring him home also. Then Rush took
him on his neck, and within one quarter of an hour he was at
home. Then the Prior conjured Rush again into his own like-
ness, and commanded him to go into an old castle that stood far
within the forest and never more to come out, but to remain there
for ever. From which Devil, and all other Devils, defend us good
Lord. Amen.

MORE OF THE HUNDRED MERRY
TALES.

Of the fkohr of oxford that prouyd by foupheftry .it. chekyns Mi.

A RYCH frankelyn in ye contrey hauynge by his wyfe but one
chyld and no mo for the grete affeccyon that he had to his fayde
chylde founde hym at Oxford to fcole by the fpace of .ii. or .iii.
yere. This yonge fcoller in a vocacyon tyme for his dyfport came
home to his fader.

It fortuned afterwarde in a nyght the fader ye moder & the
fayde yonge fcoller fyttynge at fupper hauynge before them no
more mete but onely a cople of chykyns the fader fayd this wyfe.
Sone fo it is that I haue fpent moch money vpon the to fynde ye
to fcole/ wherfore I haue grete defyre to know what haft lernyd.
To whom ye fone anfwerde & fayde. Fader I haue ftudyed
foueftrye & by that fcyence I can proue yt thefe .ii. chykyns in ye
dyfh be thre chykyns. Mary sayd ye fader that wolde I fayne fe.
The fcoller toke one of ye chykyns in his hand & fayd. Lo
here is one chykyn/ and incotynent he toke both ye chykyns in
his hand ioyntly & fayd here is.ii. chykyns and one & .ii. maketh
.iii. Ergo here is .iii. chykyns. Then the fader toke one of the
chykyns to hymfelfe and gaue another to his wyfe & fayd thus.
Lo I wyll haue one of ye chykyns to my parte/ & thy moder mail
haue another & bycaufe of thy good argument thou (halt haue ye
thyrde to thy fupper/ for thou getteyft no more mete here at this
tyme/ whiche promyfe the fader kept & fo the fcoller went without
his fupper.

442 THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES.

U By this tale men may fe that it is grete foly to put one to
fcole to lerne any fubtyll fcyence whiche hath no naturall wytte.

Of the court ear that dyd caft the fr ere ouer the bote.

A COURTYER & a frere happenyd to mete togyder in a fery bote
& in comunycacyon betwene them fell at wordys angry & dyf-
pleafyd eche with other/ & fought & ftrogled togyder/ fo that at
the laft ye courtyer cafl the frere ouer the bote/ fo was ye frere
drowned. The feryma whiche had ben a man of warre the moft
parte of his lyfe before and feynge the frere was fo drowned &
gon fayd thus to the courtyer/ I befhrewe thy hart thou molded
haue taryed & foughte with hym a lande for nowe thou haft
caufed me to lefe an halfpeny for my fare.

1T By this tale a man may fe that he yl is accoftumed in vycyous
& cruel company mall lofe that noble vertew to haue pyte &
compaffyon vpon his neyghboure.

Of hym that aduenturyd body & fowle for hys prynce.

Two knyghtes there were whiche went to a flondyng felde w*
theyr prynce. But one of them was cofeffyd before he went/ but
the other wet into the felde w'out fhryft or repetauce/ afterward
this price wa ye feld & had ye vyclorye y* day/ wherfore he y' was
cofeffyd came to ye price & afkyd an ofTyce & fayd he had de-
feruyd it for he had don good feruyce & aduetured that day as
far as ony man in ye felde/ to who the other yl was vncofeffyd
anfweryd and fayd nay by the mas I am more worthy to haue
a rewarde than he/ for he aduenturyd but his body for your fake
for he durft not go to ye felde tyl he was cofeffyd/ but as for me
I dyd iupd both body lyfe & foule for your fake/ for I went to
the felde without cofeffyon or repentance,

Of the frere that fayd dyrige for the hoggys fowle.

UPON a tyme certayn women in the countrey were appoynted to
deryde and mokke a frere a lymytour that vfyd moche to vyfyth

EA RLY PROSE ROMA NCES. 443

them, wherupon one of them a lytyll before that the frere came
kylled an hog & for dyfport leyd it vnder the borde after the
maner of a corfe and tolde the frere it was her good ma and
defyred hym to fay dirige for his foule wherfore the frere and
his felaw began Placebo and Dirige and fo forth fayd the feruyfe
full deuowtly which the wyues fo heryng/ coude not refrayne them
felfe from lawghynge and wente in to a lytyll parler to lawgh more
at theyr plefure. Theie frerys fomwhat fufpecled the caufe and
quykly or that ye women were ware lokyd vnder the borde and
fpyed that it was an hog/ fodenly toke it bytwene them and bare
it homeward as faft they myght. The women feyng that ran
after the frere and cryed come agayn mayfter frere come agayne
and let it allone/ nay by my fayth quod ye frere he is a broder
of cures and therfore he muft nedys be buryed in our cloyfter/
and Ib the frerys gate the hog.

IT By thys ye may fe that they that vfe to deryde and mok
other Ibmtyme it tornyth to theyr one loffe and damage.

Ofmafter whyttyntons dreme,

SONE after one mayfter Whyttinto had bylded a colege on a nyght
as he flept he dremyd that he lad in his church & many folkys
ther alfo/ & further he dremyd yl he fawe our lady in the lame
chyrch w* a glas of goodly oyntement in her hand goynge to one
afkyng hym what he had done for her fake/ whiche fayd that he
had fayd our ladys fauter euery day wherfore me gaue hym a
lytyll of the oyle. And anon me went to another afkyng hym
what he had done for her fake which fayd that he had fayd .ii.
ladys fauters euery day/ wherfore our lady gaue hym more of
ye oytement than me gaue ye other. This mayfter whyttento
then thought that when our lady fholde come to hym me wolde
gyue hym all the hole glas bycaufe yl he had bylded fuch a gret
colege & was very'glad in his mynd. But wh5 our lady cam to
hym me afked hym what he had fuffred for her fake/ which
wordys made hym gretly abafhyd bycaufe he had nothyng to fay
for hym felfe/ & fo he dremyd that for all the gret dede of

444 THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES.

byldyng of ye layd Colege he had no parte of y* goodly oynte-
ment.

H By this ye may fe that to fuffer for goddys fake is more
merytoryous than to gyue gret goodys.

Of the maltman of Colbroke.

A CERTAYNE maltman of colbroke whiche was a very couetous
wreche and had no pleafure but onely to get money came to
london to fell his malt and broughte with hym .iiii. capons &
there refeyuyd .iiii. or .v. li. for make and put it in a lytell purs
tyed to his cote and after wente aboute the ftrettys to fell his
capons whom a pollyng felowe that was a dycer and an vnthryft
had efpyed and Imagyned how he myght begyle the man other
of his capons or of his money and came to this maltman in the
ftreet berynge thefe capons in his hande and afkyd hym how
he wolde fell his capons and when he fhewyd hym the pryfe of
them he bad hym go with hym to his mayfter and he wolde mew
them to his mayfter and he wolde caufe hym to haue money for
them wherto he agreed. This Poller wente to the cardynalls hat
in lomberdys ftrete & when he came to the dore he toke the
capons from the maltman and bad hym tary at the dore tyll he
had mewed his mayfter and he wolde come agayn to hym and
brynge hym his money for them. This poller when he had
goten the capons wente in to the houfe and wente thorowe the
other bak entre in to Cornhyll and foo toke the capons with hym/
and when this maltman had ftond there a good feafon he afkid
one of the tauerners where the man was that had the Capons to
fhewe to his mayfter/ mary quod the tauerner I can not tell the
here is nother mayfter nor man in this houfe for this entre here is
a comen hye way and gooth in to cornhyl/ I am fure he is gone
a weye with thy capos. This maltman herynge that ran throwe
the entre in to cornhyll and alkyd for a felowe in a tawny cote
that had capons in his hand. But no man coude tell hym whiche
waye he was gone and foo the maltman lofte his capons and after
wente in to his Inne all heuy and fade and toke his horfe to

EARLY PROSE ROMANCES. 445

thentent to ryde home. This poller by that tyme had chaungyd
hys rayment and borowyd a furryd gowne and came to the malt-
man fyttynge on horfbak and fayd thus/ good man me thought I
harde the inquire euyn now for one in a tawny cote that had
ftolyn from the .iiii. capos yf thou wylt gyue me a quart of wyne go
with me and I mail brynge ye to a place where he fyttyth drynkyng
with other felowes & had yc capons in his hande. This maltman
beynge glad therof grautyd hym to gyue hym the wyne bycauie
he femyd to be an honeft man/ and went w* hym vnto the dagger
in chepe. This poller then fayd to hym go thy way lireyght to
thend of y' long entre & there thou malt fe whether it be he or
no & I wyl holde thy horfe here tyll thou come agayn. This
maltman thynkyng to fynde the felow with his capos wet in &
left his horfe with the other at the dore. And as foone as he was
gon in to the houfe this poller lad the horfe awaye in to his
owne lodgynge. This maltman inqueryd in the houfe for his
felowe with the capons but no man coude tell hym no tydyngys
of fuche man/ wherfore he came agayne to ye dore all fad & lokyd
for hym yl had his hors to kepe/ & bycaufe he fawe hym not he
afkyd dyuers there for hym/ & fome fayd they law hym & fome
fayde they law hym not/ but no man coude tell whiche waye he
was gone wherfore he wente home to his Inne more fad tha he
was before/ wherfore his hofl gaue hym coucell to get hym home
& beware how he truftyd any men in londo. This maltman
feynge none other cofort went hys hy way homewarde.

This poller which lyngeryd alway there aboute the Inne hard
tell that the maltman was goyng homewarde a fote apparelyd hym
lyke a mannys prentyfe & gat a lytell boget ftuffyd full of ftones
on his bake & wente before hym to charynge crorTe & taryed tyll
ye maltman came/ & afkyd hym whether he wente whiche fayd
to Colbroke. Mary quod ye other I am glad therof for I muft
goo to braynforde to my mayfter to bere hym money which I
haue in my boget & I wolde be glad of copany. This maltman
bycaufe of his owne money was glad of his copany/ & fo they
agreed & wente togyder a whyle. At the laft this poller went
fomwhat before to knyghtbryge & fat vpon ye brydge & reftyd

446 THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES.

hym with his boget on his bak/ & when he faw ye maltma almoft
at hym he let his boget fall ouer ye brydge in to ye water. & in-
contynent ftart vp & fayd to yc maltman alas I haue let my boget
fal in to ye water & there is .xl. li. of money therin/ yf thou wylt
wade in to ye water & go feke it & get it me agayne I mail gyue
ye .xii. pence for thy labour/ this maltman hauynge pyte of his
lotfe & alfo glad to get the .xii. pence plukyd of his hofe cote &
fhyrt & wadyd into ye water to feke for the boget, And in ye
mene whyle this poller gote his clothis & cote wher to the purs
of money was tyde & lepte ouer the hedge & wente to weft-
mynfter.

This maltman within a whyle after with grete payne & depe
wadynge founde ye boget & came -out of the water & fawe not his
felowe there & fawe that his clothys & money were not there as
he left them lufpectyd ye mater and openyd the boget and than
founde nothynge therin but ftonys cryed out lyke a mad man and
ran all nakyd to london agayne arid iayde alas alas helpe or I
mail be ftolen. For my capons be ftolen. My hors is ftolen.
My money and clothys be ftolen and I mall be ftolen myfelf.
And fo ran aboute the ftretys in london nakyd & mad cryenge
alway I mail be ftole. I mall be ftolen. And fo contynuyd mad
durynge his lyfe & fo dyed lyke a wretche to the vtter deftruccyon
of hym felf & fhame to all his kyn.

H By this tale ye may le that many a couetoufe wrech yt louyd
his good better than god and fettyth his mynde inordynatly ther-
on by the ryghte iugment of god oftymes comyth to a myferable
and ftiamfull ende,

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MORLEY'S UNIVERSAL LIBRARY.

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1. SHERIDAN'S PLAYS.

2. PLAYS FROM MOLIERE. By ENGLISH DRAMATISTS.

3. MARLOWE'S FAUSTUS AND GOETHE'S FAUST*

4. CHRONICLE OF THE CID.

5. RABELAIS' GARGANTUA, AND TH£ HEROIC DEEDS OF PANTA-

GRUEL.

6. THE PRINCE. By MACHIAVELLI.

7. BACON'S ESSAYS.

8. DEFOE'S JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR.

9. LOCKE ON CIVIL GOVERNMENT; with SIR ROBERT FILMER'S

PATRIARCHA.

10. BUTLER'S ANALOGY OF RELIGION.

11. DRYDEN'S VIRGIL.

12. SIR WALTER SCOTT'S DEMONOLOGY AND WITCHCRAFT.

13. HERRICK'S HESPERIDES.

14. COLERIDGE'S TABLE-TALK; with THE ANCIENT MARINER AND

CHRISTABEL.

15. BOCCACCIO'S DECAMERON.

16. STERNE'S TRISTRAM SHANDY.

17. HOMER'S ILIAD. Translated by GEORGE CHAPMAN.
1 8. MEDIJEVAL TALES.

19. JOHNSON'S RASSELAS ; and VOLTAIRE'S CANDIDE.

20. PLAYS AND POEMS. By BEN JONSON.

21. HOBBES'S LEVIATHAN.

22. BUTLER'S HUDIBRAS.

23. IDEAL COMMONWEALTHS; MORE'S UTOPIA; BACON'S NEW

ATLANTIS ; and CAMPANELLA'S CITY OF THE SUN.

24. CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY\
25 & 26. DON QUIXOTE (Two Volumes).

27. BURLESQUE PLAYS AND POEMS.

28. DANTE'S DIVINE COMEDY, LONGFELLOW'S Translation.

29. GOLDSMITH'S VICAR OF WAKEFIELD, PLAYS, AND POEMS,

30. FABLES AND PROVERBS FROM THE SANSKRIT.

31. CHARLES LAMB'S ESSAYS OF ELI A,

JYIORLEYS UNIVERSAL LIBRARY— continued.

32. THE HISTORY OF THOMAS ELLWOOD. Written by Himself.

33. EMERSON'S ESSAYS, REPRESENTATIVE MEN, AND SOCIETY

AND SOLITUDE.

34. SOUTHEY'S LIFE OF NELSON.

35. DE QUINCEY'S OPIUM-EATER, SHAKSPEARE, GOETHE.

36. STORIES OF IRELAND. By MARIA EDGEWORTH.

37. THE PLAYS OF ARISTOPHANES. Translated by FRERE.

38. SPEECHES AND LETTERS. By EDMUND BURKE.

39. THOMAS A KEMPIS' IMITATION OF CHRIST.

40. POPULAR SONGS OF IRELAND. Collected by THOMAS CROFTON

CROKER.

41. THE PLAYS OF JESCHYLUS. Translated by R. POTTER.

42. GOETHE'S FAUST. The Second Part.

43. FAMOUS PAMPHLETS.

44. SOPHOCLES. Translated by FRANCKLIN.

45. TALES OF TERROR AND WONDER.

46. VESTIGES OF THE NATURAL HISTORY OF CREATION.

47. THE BARONS' WARS, &c. By MICHAEL DRAYTON.

48. COBBETT'S ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN.

49. THE BANQUET OF DANTE. Translated by ELIZABETH P. SAYER.

50. WALKER'S ORIGINAL.

51. POEMS AND BALLADS BY SCHILLER.

52. PEELE'S PLAYS AND POEMS.

53. HARRINGTON'S OCEANA.

54. EURIPIDES— ALCESTIS, &c.

55. ESSAYS. By WINTHROP MACK WORTH PRAED.

56. TRADITIONAL TALES. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

57. HOOKER'S ECCLESIASTICAL POLITY. Books I.— IV.

58. EURIPIDES— THE BACCHANALS, and other PLAYS.

59. WALTON'S LIVES OF DONNE, WOTTON, HOOKER, GEORGE

HERBERT, &c.

60. ARISTOTLE ON GOVERNMENT.

6 1. EURIPIDES— HECUBA, and other PLAYS.

62. RABELAIS' HEROIC DEEDS OF PANTAGRUEL. Books III., IV.,

and V.

63. A MISCELLANY.

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LONDON, GLASGOW, MANCHESTER, AND NEW YORK.

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