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VOL. III.
INTRODUCTION.
VERY little is needful by way of preface to
the third volume of this collection of old
English jest-books, inasmuch as whatever ex
planatory or other remarks seemed necessary
have been prefixed to each article. It may
be desirable, however, to point out that the
following pages, exhibit a farther instalment
of seven curious pieces, the greater part of
which are, in the originals, almost totally in
accessible. Of the tracts here brought to
gether, four have never previously been re
printed, namely, XII Mery Jests of the Wydoiv
Edyth, Pasquils Jests, Certayne Conceyts and
Jeasts, and Taylor's Wit and Mirth. It is
believed that this is also the first attempt to
present to the modern reader, in their genuine
form, the whimsical Tales of tfie Mad-Men of
Gotam ; and although the concluding section
of the book, Conceits, Clinches, Flashes and
b
vi Introduction.
Whimsies, 1639, was republished by Mr.
Halliwell in 1860, the impression was limited
to six-and-twenty copies, thus placing the
volume scarcely more within the reach of an
ordinary purchaser than it was before.
In regard to The Pleasant Conceits of Old
Hobson, 1607, which is included in the present
volume, and which is composed of anecdotes,
to the authorship of which the " Merry
Londoner " had probably very slender claim,
a passage may be quoted from Mr. Carrick's
Memoir of the Laird of Logan, which is
equally applicable to this and other attribu
tions of the kind, originating in the desire of
the writer to throw a halo of popularity round
his facetious lucubrations : " It appears to
have been almost a general practice in collect
ing the jests or 'notable sayings' which have
become current in a nation, to ascribe the
merit of such sayings to some personage, real
or fictitious, who is supposed to have dis
tinguished himself for his ready wit, racy
humour, and fertile imagination."
The copy of A C. Mery Talys, (reproduced
in the first volume of this assemblage of
Introduction. vii
facetiae,) from which Mr. Singer printed his
edition in 1815, is now in the possession of
J. O. Halliwell, Esq., to whom Mr. Singer
bequeathed it. No other is known to exist.
A perusal of the numerous collections of
Tales brought together in this and the two
former books is apt to lead to a feeling that
in genuine home-grown humour, English lite
rature is by no means wealthy. We shine
indeed, but it is with borrowed light. Our
jest-books are little beyond various readings
to the Poggiana and other great stores of
facetiae ; and if we should take away from
the C. Mery Talys and its successors what is
merely imported matter, it is to be feared
that the residue would be compressible into
a very slender compass. Nihil Novi should
have been the motto of this publication ; for
to nothing in the entire circle of literature,
science and art, is it more thoroughly ap
plicable. There is scarcely a story which has
not been told over and over again, with the
change only of name, place, and circumstance.
The germ and spirit are identical. Even the
good things which the contemporaries of
viii Introduction.
Sydney Smith applauded in that excellent
man, are in many cases discoverable in works
which it is more probable than otherwise that
Smith had read.
The Wit and Mirth of John Taylor, the
Water Poet, although it can by no means
claim complete exemption from the charge
of plagiarism and larceny, is undoubtedly,
as a collection, an unusually original and
entertaining work, and there are many in
stances, in which it is the repository of curious
anecdotes nowhere else preserved. In this
respect, though of less remote antiquity than
the C. Mery Tafys, and of no direct Shake
spearian interest, it is superior to the latten
and in point of raciness and comicality, the
stories in the Wit and Mirth are hardly
surpassed by any in the language. Those
who came after the Water Poet certainly
stole a great deal more from him than he
had stolen from his predecessors ; and one
person, about the close of the i/th century,
from an anxiety to testify his appreciation of
the merits of Taylor's performance, repro
duced the best articles, without a word of
Introduction. ix
acknowledgment, as the " True and Diverting
History of Tom of Chester." Selections from
this tract are given by Mr. Halliwell in his
Palatine Anthology, 1850, 4.
Apart from their claim to originality, how
ever,, the old English jest-books ought to
possess very considerable value in the eyes
of the philologist and the student of early
manners ; and the Editor hopes that he has
performed a not unacceptable service in
placing within the reach of the curious the
most extensive assemblage of works in face
tious lore ever published in this country.
MERY TALES
OF THE MAD MEN OF GOTHAM.
Merie Tales of the Mad Men of Gotam, gathered together
by A. B. of Phisike Doctour. [Col.] Imprinted at London
in Flet-Stret, beneath the Conduit, at the signe of S. John
Evangelist, by Thomas Colwell. n. d. 12, black letter.
%* See Halliwell's Notices of Popular English Histories,
1848.
The Merry Tales of the Mad Men of Gottam. Gathered
together by A. B. of Phisicke, Doctor. [Woodcut of the
hedging-in of the cuckoo.] Printed at London by B[ernard]
A[lsop] and T[homas] F[awcet] for Michael Sparke, dwell
ing in Greene A[r]bor at the signe of the Blue-Bible,
1630, 12. Black letter, 12 leaves, including title.
%* This edition, of which a copy is among Burton's books
at Oxford, has been used for the present reprint. An earlier
one, Lond. 1613, 12% occurs in the Harleian Catalog^ but
it seems to be no longer known.
The Merry Tales of the Mad Men of Gotam. By A. B.
Doctor of Physick. Printed by J. R. for G. Corners at
the Golden Ring on Ludgate Hill, and J. Deacon at the
Angel in Guilt-spur street without Newgate, n. d. 12.
bl. letter. With a similar woodcut on title of a Gothamite
hedging in the cuckoo.
There is also a chapman's edition Printed and sold in
London n. d. 12, in the Bodleian, which possesses another
impression without the title page, which may have appeared
about the middle of the last century. Both these copies are
in the Douce collection.
This facetious production, of which the earlier impressions
appear to have perished, is generally and, probably, correctly
ascribed to Andrew Borde who, according to Anthony Wood,
published it in the reign of Henry VIII. That such was the
case, is very likely, and when the excessive popularity of such
a piece is considered, we can hardly wonder that all trace of
the book in its original shape should have been lost. The
Gothamite Tales were till lately, and may be still common as a
chap-book in England, Scotland, and Ireland, and in 1840,
Mr. Halliwell reprinted one of these editions. This reprint
is itself scarce, and I have never met with, it. But as a text
it is, of course, of no value or importance.
Decker, in his Guls Horn Book, 1609, says : "It is now
high time for me to have a blow at thy head, which I will not
cut off with sharp documents, but rather set it on faster ;
bestowing upon it such excellent carving that, if all the wise
men of Gotham should lay their heads together, their jobber
nowls should not be able to compare with thine. "
Wither, in \as, Abuses Stript and Whipt, 1613, 8, and many
others among our early writers, allude to the hedging-in of the
cuckoo, and Edward Bering, in his Workes, n. p. or d. 8,
numbers the Gothamite tales among the "witless devices" of
the Elizabethan age.
Of Gotham, in Nottinghamshire, there is the following
account in England?* Gazetteer, 175 1. " Gotham, in the S. W.
angle of the County [is] noted for nothing so much as the ridi
culous fable of the wise men here, who, 'tis said, went about
to hedge-in a cuckow. What original it had does not appear,
tho' at Court-Hill in this place there is a bush called Cuckow-
Bush. The manor belonged anciently to the Beaumonts Earls
of Leicester, who had a castle here. The family of Dives
were Lords of this Town in the Reign of Henry II., and
held it to the time of Edward III. It went thence by mar
riage to the family of St Andrew, who were Lords of it till
the Reign of King Charles I., when for want of issue-male it
went by marriage to Gervase Piggot, Esq. of Thrumpton,
from whom it has descended to his posterity.
B 2
beginwft cntatne merrg ^ales of tjje
Jllatumen of CRottam.
first
THERE was two men of Gottam, and the one of
them was going to the Market to Nottingham to
buy sheepe, and the other came from the Market :
and both met together vpon Nottingham-bridge.
Well met, said the one to the other. Whither be
yee going? said he that came from Nottingham.
Marry, said he that was going thither, I goe to the
market to buy sheepe. Buy sheepe ! said the other,
and which way wilt thou bring them home 1 Marry,
said the other, I will bring them ouer this bridge.
By robin hood, said he that came from Nottingham,
but thou shalt not. By Maid marrian, said he that
was going thither ward, but I will. Thou shalt
not, said the one. I will, said the other. Let
here, said y e one. Shue there, said the other.
Then they beate their staues against the ground,
one against the other, as there had beene an hun-
Mad Men of Gotham. 5
dred sheepe betwixt them. Hold in, said the one ;
beware by leaping ouer the bridge of my sheepe.
I care riot, said the other. 1 They shall not come
this way, said the one. But they shall, said the
other. Then said the other : & if that thou make
much to doe, I will put my finger in thy mouth.
A **** thou wilt, said the other. And as they
were at their contention, another man of Gottam
came from the market with a sacke of meale vpon
a horse, and seeing and hearing his neighbours at
strife for sheepe, and none betwixt them, said :
Ah, fooles, will you neuer learn wit ? Helpe me,
said he that had the meale, and lay my sack vpon
my shoulder. They did so ; and he went to the
one side of the bridge, and vnloosed the mouth of
the sacke, and did shake out all his meale into the
riuer. Now, neigbours, said the man, how much
meale is there in my sacke now 1 Marry, there is
none at all, said they. Now, by my faith, said he,
euen as much wit is in your two heads, to striue
for that thing you haue not.
Which was the wisest of all these three persons,
judge you ? 2
(1) By an inadvertence, said the other is repeated in the old ed.
(2) This story is also related in A C. Mery Talys, of which it is No.
xxii ; and the reader may supply from the present source what is deficient
in the earlier text.
6 Mery Tales of the
l&ty stcontr ^ale.
THERE was a man of Gottam did ride to the market
with two bushells of wheate, and because his horse
should not beare heauy, he caried his come vpon
his owne necke, & did ride vpon his horse, be
cause his horse should not cary to heauy a burthen.
Judge you which was the wisest, his horse or him-
selfe.
ON a tyme, the men of Gottam would haue pinned
in the Cuckoo, whereby shee should sing all the
yeere, and in the midst of y e town they made a
hedge round in compasse, and they had got a
Cuckoo, and had put her into it, and said : Sing
here all the yeere, and thou shalt lacke neither
meate nor drinke. The Cuckoo, as soone as she
perceiued her selfe incompassed within the hedge,
flew away. A vengeance on her ! said they ; we
made not our hedge high enough.
tf)e fourtfi ^afe.
THERE was a man of Gottam, the which went to
the market to Nottingham, to sell Cheese, and as
Mad Men of Gotham. 7
he was going downe the hill to Nottingham-bridge,
one of his Cheeses did fall out of his wallet, and
ran downe the hill. A whorsons ! said the fellow ;
can you run to the Market alone? I will send the
one after the other of you. Then he layd downe
his wallet, and tooke the Cheeses, and did tumble
them downe the hill one after another, and some
ran into one bush, and some into another ; and at
the last he said : I charge you all meet me in the
Market-place. And when the fellow came to the
Market-place to meet his Cheeses, he stayed there,
till the Market was almost done. Then he went
about and did enquire of his Neighbors and other
men, if they did see his Cheeses come to the
Market Who should bring them? said one of
the Market-men. Marry, themselves, said the
fellow ; they knew the way well enough. He said :
a vengeance on them all ! I did feare to see my
Cheeses run so fast, that they would run beyond
the market ; I am now fully perswaded, that they
bee now almost at Yorke ; whereupon he forthwith
hired a horse to ride after to Yorke to seeke his
Cheeses, where they were not. But to this day no
man could tell him of his Cheeses.
Mery Tales of the
fift
THERE was a man of Gottam, who bought at Not
tingham a Treuet or a Brandyron, and as he was
going home, his shoulders grew sore with the
cariage thereof, & he set it downe ; and, seeing
that it had three feet, said : a whorson ! hast thou
three feet, and I but two? thou shalt beare me
home, if thou wilt, and so set it downe on the
ground, and sot himselfe downe thereupon, and
said to the Treuet : beare me, as long as I haue
borne thee : for, if thou doe not, thou shalt stond
still for me. The man of Gottam did see, that his
Treuet would not goe further. Stand still, said he,
in the Mares name, and follow me, if thou wilt ;
I will tell thee the right way to my home. When
he did come home to his house, his wife said :
where is my Treuit ? The man said : he hath three
legs, and I haue but two, and I did teach him the
way to my house ; let him come home, if he will.
Where left ye the Treuet, said the wife ? At Gottam
hill, said the man. His wife did runne and fetch
home the Treuet her owne selfe, or else she had
lost it through her husbands wit.
Mad Men of Gotham.
&txt
THERE dwelt a Smith at Gottam, who had a Waspes
nest in the strow in the end of his Forge. There
did come one of his neigbors to haue his horse
shood, and the Waspes were so busie, that the
fellow was stung with a Waspe. He, being angry,
said : art thou worthy to keepe a forge or no, to
haue men stung here with wasps 1 O, neighbour,
said the Smith, be content ; I will put them from
this nest by and by. Immediately he tooke a
Coulter, and heated it in his Forge glowing hot,
and he thrust it into the straw in the end of his
Forge, and so he set his Forge a fire, [and] burnt
it vp. Then said the Smith : and I told thee I
would fire them forth of their nest.
seuentl)
WHEN that good-Friday was come, the men of
Gottam did cast their heads together what to do
with their white Herring, their red Herring, their
Sprats and salt Fish. One consulted with the
other, and agreed that such fish should be cast into
their Pond or poole (the which was in the middle
of the Towne), that it might increase against the
ro Mery Tales of the
next yeere ; & every man that had any Fish left,
did cast them into the Poole. The one said : I
haue thus many white Herrings ; another said : I
haue thus many Sprats ; another said : I haue thus
many red Herrings ; and the other said : I haue
thus many salt Fishes. Let all goe together into
the Poole or Pond, and we shall fare like lords y e
next Lent. At the beginning of the next Lent
following, the men did draw the Pond to haue
their Fish, and there was nothing but a great Eele.
Ah ! said they all, a mischeife on this Eele ! for
he hath eate vp all our Fish. What shall we doe
with him, said the one to the other? Kill him,
said the one of them ; chop him all to pieces,
said another. Nay, not so, said the other, Let
vs drowne him. Be it so, said all.
They went to another Poole or Pond by, and
did cast in the Eele into the water. Lye there,
said they, and shift for thyselfe : for no helpe thou
shalt haue of vs ; and there they left the Eele to
be drowned.
ON a time, the men of Gottam had forgotten to
pay their rent to their landlord. The one said to
the other : to morow is our pay day, and what
Mad Men of Gotham. 1 1
remedy shall we find to send our money to our
Lord 1 The one said : this day I haue taken a
quicke Hare, and he shall carry it : for he is light
of foot. Be it so, said all, he shal haue a Letter
and a purse to put in our money, and we shall
direct him the ready way ; and when the Letters
were written, and the mony put in a Purse, they
did tye them about the Hares necke, saying :
first, thou must goe to Loughborow, and then to
Leicester, and at Newarke there is our Lord, and
commend vs to him, and there is his dutie. 1 The
Hare, as soone as he was 'out of their hands, he
did run a cleane contrary way. Some cried to
him, saying : thou must goe to Loughborow first ;
some said : let the Hare alone, hee can tell a
neerer way, then the best of vs all doe, let him
goe. Another said : it is a subtle Hare, let her
alone, she will not keep the highway for feare of
dogs.
m'ntf)
ON a time, there was one of Gottam was a mowing
in the meads, and found a great Grashopper : 2
he cast downe his sithe, and did run home to his
neighbours and said, that there was a Diuell in
(i) i. e. his due. (2) i. e. a Cicada.
12 Mery Tales of the
the field that hopped in the Grasse. Then there
was euery man ready with Clubs and Staues, with
Halberts and other weapons, to goe and kill the
Grashopper. When they did come to the place,
where the Grashopper should be, said the one to
the other : let euery man crosse himselfe from the
Diuell, or we will not meddle with him. And so
they returned againe, and said : we were well blest
this day that we went no further. Ah ! cowards,
said he that had the Sithe in the mead \ helpe me
to fetch my Sithe. No, said they, it is good to
sleepe in a whole skin ; better it is to loose thy
Sithe, than to marre vs all.
tentfi
ON a certain e time, there were xii. men of Gottam,
that did goe a fishing, and some did wade in the
water, and some stood vpon dry land, and when
that they went homeward, one said to the other :
we haue ventured wonderfull hard this day in
wading ; I pray God, that none of vs that did
come from home be drowned. Marry, said the
one to the other, let vs see that, for there did
twelue of vs come out : and they told themselues,
and euery man did tell eleven, and the twelfth man
Mad Men of Gotham. 1 3
did neuer tell himselfe. Alas, said the one to the
other, there is one of vs drowned. They went
backe to the Brooke, where that they had beene
fishing, and sought vp and downe for him that was
drowned, and did make great lamentation. A
Courtier did come riding by, and he did aske
what it was they did seeke, and why they were so
sorry. O, said they, this day we went to fish in
this Brooke, and there did come out twelue of vs,
and one is drowned. Why, said the Courtier, tell
how many be of you. And the one told eleuen,
and he did not tell himselfe. Well, said the
Courtier, what will you giue me, and I will find
out twelve men ? Sir, said they, all the money that
we haue. Giue me the money, said the Courtier :
and hee began with the first, and did giue him a
recornbendibus ouer the shoulders that he groaned,
and said : there is one. So he serued all, that
they groaned on the matter. When he did come to
the last, he payed him a good [blow], saying : here
is the twelfth man. Gods blessing on your heart,
said all the company, that you haue found out our
neighbour.
14 Mery Tales of the
THERE was a man of Gottam, that did ride vpon
the high way, and there he found a Cheese, and he
puld out his sword, & pored and pricked with the
poynt of his sword, to take vp the Cheese. There
did come another man by, and did alight, and tooke
vp the Cheese, and did ride his way with it. The
man of Gottam did ride backe to Nottingham to
buy a long sword to take vp the Cheese, and when
he had bought this sword, he returned backe, and
when he did come to the place, where the Cheese
did lye, he pulled out his sword, and pricked the
ground, saying : a murrion take it ! if I had had
this sword, I had had the Cheese myselfe, and now
another hath got it.
THERE was a man of Gottam, and he did not loue
his wife ; and hauing a faire haire, her husband
said diuers times, that he would cut it off, and
he durst not doe it, when she was waking, but
when she was a sleepe. So, on a night, he tooke
up a paire of sheeres, and layd them vnder his
beds head, the which his wife perceiued. And
then she did call to one of her maids, and said j
Mad Men of Gotham. 1 5
goe to bed to my husband : for he is minded to cut
off my haire to night ; let him cut off thy haire,
and I will giue thee as good a kertle as euer thou
didst weare. The maid did so, and fained herselfe
asleepe, the which [when] the man perceiued, [he]
cut off the maid's haire, and did wrap it about his
sheeres, and laid it vnder his beds head, and fell
asleepe. The wife made her maid to rise, and
tooke the haire and the sheeres, and went into the
hall, and there burnt y e haire. The man had a
horse, the which hee did loue aboue all things (as
shee did well know). The good wife went into her
husbands Stable, and cut off the horse taile, and
did wrap the Sheeres in the Horse taile, and laid
them vnder her husbands head. In the morning,
shee did rise betimes, and did sit by the fire
kembing of her head. At last, the man did come
to the fire ; and, seeing of his wife kembing of her
head, marvelled much thereat. The Maide, seeing
her Master standing in a browne study, said : what
a diuell ailes the horse in the stable : for he bleedeth
sore 1 ? The good man ranne into the stable, and
found that his horse taile was cut off; he went to
his beds head, and did find the sheeres wrapt in
his horse taile, and did come to his wife, saying :
I cry thee mercy, for I had thought that I had
cut off thy haire to night, and I haue cut off my
1 6 Mery Tales of the
horse taile. Yea, said shee, selfe do, selfe haue :
many a man thinketh to doe another man a shrewd
turne, and it turneth oftimes to his owne selfe.
t&trteentl)
THERE was a man in Gottam, that layd a wager
with his wife, that shee should not make him cuck
old. No, said she, but I can. Spare not, quoth
he, doe what thou canst. On a time, shee hid all
the Spiggots and Fausets in the House, and shee
went into her Buttery, and set a Barrell abroach,
and cryed to her husband, and said : I pray you,
bring me hither a spiggot and a fauset, or else all
the Ale will run out. The good man sought vp and
downe, and could find none. Come hither, said
she then, and hold your finger in the tap-hole. She
pulled out her finger, and the good-man put in his.
Shee then called to her Taylor, which did dwell at
the next doore, with whom she made a blinde bar-
gaine ; and within a while shee came to her husband,
and did bring a Spiggot and a Fauset with her,
saying : pull out thy finger out of the tap-hole,
gentle Cuckold : for you haue lost your bargaine.
I beshrew your heart for your labour, said the good-
man. Make no such bargaines then, said she,
with me.
Mad Men of Gotliam. 1 7
fouwentb
THERE was a man of Gottam, that had taken a
Bustard, 1 and to the eating of it did bid foure or
fiue Gentlemen's seruants. The wife had killed an
old brood Goose, and she & two of her Gossips
had eaten vp the Bustard, and the old Goose was
layd to the fire for the Gentlemens seruants : and
when that they were come, and that the old Goose
was set before them : what is this, then ? said one
of the men. The good man said : a good fat
Bustard. A Bustard ! said theyj; it is an old Goose,
and thou art a knaue to mocke vs ; and in great
anger they departed out of his house, and went
home. The fellow was sorry, that the Gentlemens
seruant[s] were angry, and did take a bagge, and did
in the Bustards feathers, and thought to goe to
them, and shew them the feathers of the Bustard,
and so to please them. The wife prayed her hus
band, ere hee went, to fetch in a blocke to the
fire ; and in the meane space she did pull out all
the Bustards feathers, and did put in the Goose
feathers. The man, taking his wallet or bagge,
went to the Gentlemens seruants, and said : pray
you, bee not angry with me, for you shall see here,
(i) All the old eds. have buzzard, wherever the word occurs.
3- C
1 8 Mery Tales of the
that I had a Bustard, for here be the feathers ;
and he opened his bag, and did shake out all the
Goose feathers. The Gentlemens seruants, seeing
the Goose feathers, said : why, thou knaue, couldest
thou not be contented to mocke vs at thine owne
house, but art come to mocke vs here. The one
tooke a waster T in his hand, and did giue him a
dozen stripes, saying : take this for a reward, and
hereafter mocke not vs any more.
THERE was a young man of Gottam, the which
should goe wooing to a faire maid. His mother
did warne him beforehand, saying : when thou
dost looke vpon her, cast a sheepes eye, and say :
how doe you, sweet pigs-nie ? The fellow went to
the Butchers, and bought seuen or eight sheepes
eyes, and when this lusty wooer did sit at dinner,
hee would looke vpon his faire wench, and would
cast in her face a sheepes eye, saying : how doest
thou, my pretty pigs-nie ? How doe I (said the
wench), swines face 1 why dost thou cast the
sheepes eye vpon me ? O sweet pigs nie, said he,
haue at thee another ! I dene thee, swines face,
(i) A cudgel. See A C. Mery Talys, No. 2, note.
Mad Men of Gotham. 1 9
saith the wench. The fellow, being abashed, said :
what, sweet pigs nie, be content : for, if thou doe
Hue vntill the next yeere, thou wilt be foule Sowe.
Walke, knaue, walke, said she : for, if thou Hue
till the next yeere, thou wilt be a starke knaue, a
lubber, and a foole. Here a man may see that for
a mans good will, he shall have euill will and
displeasure.
A MANS wife of Gottam was brought a bed of a
Man-child; the father did bid the Gossips, the
which were children of eight or nine yeeres of age.
The eldest childs name that should be Godfather
was named Gilbert ; the second child was named
Humfrey ; and the Godmothers name was Chris-
tabel. The friends of them did admonish them,
saying, that diuers times they must say after the
Priest. When all were come to the Church
doore, the Priest said : be you agreed of the
name 2 Be you, said Gilbert, agreed of the name 1
Be you, said Hurnfrey, agreed of the name 1 Be
you, sayd Christabel, agreed of the name 1 The
Priest said : wherefore be you come hither ? Gil
bert said : wherefore be you come hither 1 Humfrey
said : wherefore bee you come hither 1 Christabel
c 2
2O Mery Tales of the
said : wherefore bee you come hither 1 The
Priest, being amazed, could not tell what to say,
but whistled, and said whew. Gilbert whistled &
said whew ; Humfrey whistled and said whew, and
so did Christabel. The Priest, being angry, said :
goe home, fooles, goe home. Goe home, fooles,
goe home, said Gilbert. Goe home, fooles, goe
home, said Humfrey. Goe home, fooles, goe home,
said Christabel. The Priest then prouided new
Godfathers and Godmothers. Here a man may-
see, that children can doe nothing without good
instructions. And they bee not wise that will
regard childrens words.
THERE was a man of Gottam, the which should
bee married ; and when the day of marriage was
appoynted, and the time came that they should be
married together, the Priest said : say after me.
The man said : say after me. The Priest said :
say not after me such words, but say after me, as
T will tell thee. The fellow said : say not after
me such words, but say after me, as I will tell
thee. The Priest said : thou doest play the foole
and the knaue, to mocke with this holy Sacrament
of Matrimonie. The fellow said : Doest thou play
Mad Men of Gotham. 21
the foole and the knaue, to mock with this holy
Sacrament of Matrimonie ? The Priest could not
tell what to say, but sayd : what shall I doe with
this foole 1 The fellow said : what shal I do with
this foole? Farewell, said the Priest, I will not
marry thee. Farewell, said the fellow, I will not
marry thee. The priest departed ; howbeit, the
fellow by other men was instructed how to doe ;
[and] after that, he was married. And I heard
say, such a foolish pranke was played at Kingstone
of late dayes.
THERE was a Scottish man, the which did dwell
at Gottam, & hee had taken a house, [a] little
from London, and of it hee would make an Inne ;
and to his Signe hee would haue a Bores-head.
And hee went to London to haue a Bores-head
made. Hee did come to a Caruer or a Joyner,
saying in his mother tongue : I say, speake, canst
thou make me a Bare-head 1 Yea, said the Caruer.
Then said the Scottish-man : make me a Bare-head
anonst Youle, and thouse haue twenty pence for
thy hire. I will doe it, said the Caruer. On S.
Andrews day before Christmas, the which is named
22 Mery Tales of the
Youle in Scotland (and in England in the North)
the Scottish man did come to London for his
Boreshead, to set it at the doore for a signe. I say,
speak, said the Scottishman, hast thou made the
bare-head 1 Yea, said the Caruer. Then thouse
a geude fellow. The Caruer went, and did bring
a mans head of wood, that was bare, and said :
Sir, here is your bare-head. I say, said the Scottish
man, the mickle Diuell is this a bare-head. Yea,
said the Caruer. I say, said the Scottishman, I
will haue a bare-head, sicke an head as doth follow
a Sew that hath Gryces. Sir, said the Caruer, I
cannot tell what is a Sew, nor what is a Gryce.
What, herson, kenst thou not a Sew, that will greet
and grone, and her Gryces will run after her, and
cry : aweeke, aweeke. Oh, said the Caruer, it is
a Pig. Yea, said the 1 Scottishman, let mee haue
his fathers head made in timber, and make me a
bird, and set on her scalpe, and cause her to sing :
whip whir, whip whir. The Caruer said : I cannot
cause her to sing : whip whir. Why, herson, said
the Scottishman, gar her as shee should sing : whip
whir.
Here a man may see, that euery man doth
delight in his owne senses, or doth reioyce in his
fantasie.
(i) Old ed. reads thy.
Mad Men of Gotham. 23
IN old tyme, when these aforesaid iests (as men
of the Countrey reported) and such fantasticall
matters were 1 done at Gottam, which I cannot tell
halfe, the wiues were gathered together in an Ale
house, and the one said to the other, that they were
profitable to their husbands. Which way, good
Gossips, said the Alewife ? The first said : I shall
tell you all, good Gossips. I can neither bake,
brew, nor can I doe no worke^ wherefore I doe
make euery day holyday, and I goe to the Alehouse,
because at all times I cannot goe to the Church ;
and in the Alehouse I pray to God to speed well
my husband, and I doe thinke my prayer shall doe
him much more good then my labour, if I should
worke. Then said the second : I am profitable to
my husband in sauing of Candles in winter : for
I doe cause my husband and all my household
folkes to goe to bed by day light, and to rise by
day light. The third wife said : and I am profitable
to my husband in spending of bread, for I will eate
but little : for to the drinking of a gallon or two
of good Ale, I care for no meate. 2 The fourth
(1) In old ed. this word is erroneously repeated.
(2) This reminds us of the capital song of Back and Side go bare, go
bare, in "Gammer Gurtons Needle," 1575.
24 Mery Tales of the
wife said : I am loth to spend meate and drinke
at home in mine owne house, wherefore I doe goe
to the wine Tauerne at Nottingham, and so take
wine and such things, as God shall send me there.
The fift wife said : a man shall haue euer more
company in another mans house then in his owne,
and most commonly in an Alehouse is the best
cheare in a Towne ; and for sparing of meat and
drinke, and other necessaries, I goe to the Ale
house. The sixt wife said : my husband hath
Wooll, and Flaxe, and Towe ; and to spare it, I
goe to other mens houses to doe other mens worke.
The seuenth wife said : I doe spare my husbands
wood and cole, and doe sit talking all the day by
other mens fires. The eight said : Beefe and
Mutton, and Porke is deare ; wherefore I doe spare
it, and do take Pigge, Goose, Hen, Chicken, Coney,
and Capon, the which bee of lower price. The
ninth said : and I doe spare my husbands Sope
and lye : for when hee should be washed once in
a weeke, I doe wash once in a quarter of a yeere.
Then said the Ale-wife : and I doe keepe my
husbands Ale, that I doe brew, from sowring : for,
whereas I was wont to drinke vp all, now I doe
leaue neuer a drop.
Mad Men of Gotham. 25
ON Ashwednesday, the Priest of Gottam would
haue a collation to his Parishioners, and said :
Friends, the time is come, that you must vse prayer
and fasting & almesdeedes, and this weeke come
you to shrift, and I will tell you more of my mind :
for, as for prayers, I thinke there bee not two
persons in the Parish can say halfe their Pater
noster ; as for fasting, you fast still : for you haue
not a good meales meate through the whole yeere ;
as for almes-deedes, what should you doe to giue
anything, that haue nothing to take to 1 But when
that you come to shrift, I will tell you more of my
mind after Masse. The good man, that did keepe
the Ale-house, did come to shrift, and aboue all
things he confessed himselfe to be drunke diuers
times in the yeere, specially in Lent. The Priest said :
in Lent, thou shouldest most refraine from drunken-
nesse, and abstaine from drinke.
Not so, said the fellow : for it is an old Prouerbe,
that fish must swim. Yea, said the Priest, it must
swim in water. I cry you mercy, quoth the fellow,
I thought it should haue sworn in good Ale.
So, one after another, the men of Gottam did
come to shrift : and when they were shriuen, the
26 Mery Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham.
Priest said : I cannot tell what penance to giue
you. If I should enioyne you to prayer, there is
none of you that can say your Pater noster, and
you be now too old to learne ; and to enioyne you
to fast, it were but foolishnesse : for you doe not
eate a good meales meat in a yeere ; wherefore I
doe enioyne thee to labour well all the weeke, that
thou maist fare well to dinner on the Sundayes,
and I will come to dinner, and see it to be so, and
take part. Another man he did enioyne to fare
well on Munday, and another, the Teusday ; and
one after another, that one or other should fare
well once a weeke, that hee might haue part of
[his] meat. And as for Almes-deedes,
The Priest said : You be but beggers all,
except it be one or two ; there
fore bestow your almes
on your selues.
JFints.
XII MERY JESTS
OF THE WYDDOW EDYTH.
The Wydow Edyth : Twelue mery gestys of one called
Edyth, the lyeing wydow whyche still lyueth. Emprynted
at London at the sygne of the mere-mayde at Pollis gate
next to chepesyde by J. Rastall. 23 March, MDXXV. Sm.
folio, bl. letter.
%* Of this edition not more than 3 copies are known. It
extends to sign D. iii.
xii Mery Jests of the Wyddow Edyth. [Col.] Imprinted at
London in Fletelane by Richarde Ihones, 1573, 4, bl.
letter. 32 unnumbered leaves, including title.
%* Of this edition it is doubtful whether more than 2
copies be extant; the copy which has been used on the
present occasion is among Selden's books in the Bodleian.
The title is within a neat border. The running title is in
Roman capitals, the title, table, and preface contain three
leaves ; there are catchwords and signatures.
This singular tract is not strictly z.jest book, but rather a
relation of the tricks and deceptions practised by the heroine
(among others) on one Walter Smith, who published them for
the information of his contemporaries and posterity. The
impression by Rastell is described at some length in Her
bert's edition of Ames, and as all that is known of this female
sharper is derived from the tract itself, it is unnecessary to do
more than refer the reader thereto.
KM. mtrg 3(Sts of
tjje fogtfoofo
THIS lying widow, false and craftie,
Late I England hath deceiued many :
Both men and women of euery degree,
As wel of the Spiritual, as temporaltie :
Lordes, Knights, and Gentlemen also :
Yemen, Groomes, and that not long ago :
For, in the time of King Henry the eight,
She hath used many a suttle sleight.
What with lieng, weepyng and laughyng,
Dissemblyng, boastyng, and flatteryng,
As by this Booke hereafter doth appere.
Who so list the matter now for to here,
No fayned Stories, but matters in deed
Of xii. of her Jestes, here may ye reede.
Nowe newly printed this present yeare,
For such as delite mery Jests for to here.
1573-
30 Mery Jests of the
(Eonttntes
of tjjm xtu merg Regies folofogng.
THE first mery Jest declareth, how this faire
and merye Mayden Edith was maryed to one
Thomas Ellys, and how she ran away with another,
by whom she had a bastard Doughter, and how she
deceiued a Gentleman, bearynge him in hand, how
her Doughter was Heire to faire Landes and great
Richesse.
The second mery Jest : how this lying Edyth
made a poore man to vnthatch his House, bearyng
him in hand, that she wold couer it with Lead :
and how she deceiued a Barbour, makyng him
beleue she was a widow, and had great aboundance
of Gooddes.
The thyrd mery Jest : how this wydow Edyth
deceiued her Hoste at Hormynger, and her Hoste
at Brandonfery, and borowed money of them
both, and also one mayster Guy of whome she
borowed iiii. Marke.
The fourth mery Jest, how this wydow Edith
Widow Edyth. 3 1
deceiued a Doctor of diuinitie, at S. Thomas of
Akers in London, of v. Nobles he layd out for
her, and how she gaue hym the slyp.
The fifth merye Jest : how this wydow Edyth
deceiued a man and his wife that were ryding on
Pylgremage : of iiii Nobles that they laid out for
her : and how she deceiued a scriuener in Lon
don, whose name was M. Rowse.
The sixt merye Jest : how this wydowe Edyth
deceiued a Draper in Lodon of a new Gowne and
a new Kyrtell ; and how she sent hym for a Nest
of Gobblets and other Plate to that scriuener
whome she had deceiued afore.
The vii mery Jest : how she deceiued a seruat
of Sir Thomas Neuells, who in hope to haue her
in Manage, with al her great richesse, kepte her
company, tyl al his money was spent ; and then she
tooke her flight, and forsooke him.
The eight mery Jest: how this wydow Edyth
deceyued a seruaunt of the Bysshop of Rochesters,
with her coggynge, and boastynge of her great
Richesse ; who like wise thought to haue had her
in Maryage.
32 Mery Jests of the
The ix mery Jest : how she deceiued a Lord,
so-tyme Earle of Ariidell : and how he sent v. of
his men seruantes and a handmaid to here her
company, and fetch her Daughter, who, as she
boasted, was an Heire of great Landes.
The tenth merye Jest : how she deceiued three
yong men of Chelsey, that were seruantes to Syr
Thomas More, and were all three suters vnto her
for Maryage : and what mischaunce happened vnto
her.
The xi. mery Jest : how she deceiued three
yong men of the Lord Legates seruants with her
great liyng, crakyng and boastyng of her great
Treasure and Jueiles.
The xii. merye Jest : how this wydow Edyth
deceyued the good man of the three Cuppes in
Holburne, and one John Cotes : and how they
both ryd with her to S. Albans to ouersee her
houses & landes : and how thei were rewarded.
FINIS.
Widow Edyth. 33
IN the Cittie of Exceter by Dell 1 a way
The tyme not passed hence many a day,
There dwelled a Yoman discrete and wise,
At the signe of the Flowerdelyse,
Which had to name John Haukyn, 2
Discended he was of an honest line :
A Man but of a meane stature,
Full well compact in euery feature.
Broad he was from pine to pine,
And red in the face when he dranke wine.
Blacke was his Haire, and hooked his nose,
And now and then, had the cough and the pose.
A sycknesse rayned vpon him aye,
Which troubled him sore night and daye :
Beside the cough, a bloudy flyr,
And euer among a deadly yer,
Which brought him to his finall day.
But ere that tyme, I wyll you say
He dyd espouse within that countrie
In processe of yeares Wiues three :
Each after other, in mirth and game,
Women of great substaunce and fame.
(i) Ed. 1525 has West. (2) Ed. 1573 has Hawkyn.
3- D
34 Mery Jests of the
And namely the last weddes wyfe,
With whom he liued, withouten stryfe,
The space of full fyfteene yeere,.
By than he was layd on a Beare.
A Daughter he had within band of maryage
By his last Wife, a worthy caryage,
Which named was Edyth at the Fontstone,
Of ii women and a man, of blood and bone,
And when that her Father was layd in graue,
From fyre and water her to saue.
Her Mother aye dyd her busy cure",
As Mothers done by course of nature :
And vertuously, as I haue hard say,
She brought vp her doughter night and day,
Charging her vpon her blessyng,
That she ne should medle with anything,
That sowned vnto good huswyfry;
But aye study to forge and lye,
And counternaunce it right well therto,
In euery place where she dyd go.
This Childe, obeying her Mother deare,
Answered to her as you shall heare :
Mother, she sayde, I am your Daughter,
I wyll endeuour myselfe there after :
While that I Hue, I shall resigne
All such as pertayne to verteous dicyplyne :
My study shalbe how I may conclude
Widow Edyth. 3 5
In things the people to delude.
Thus is the Mother and Daughter agreed ;
Now go, sayd the Mother, God thee speed !
Thomas Ellys loueth thee well, perfay,
And woeth thee fast day by day :
His desyre is to haue thee to wyfe,
And to Hue together all your lyfe.
Wed him hardely, spare not a dele,
And take another, when he hath not his hele :
Daughter, make mery, whiles thou may,
For this world wyll not last alway.
She promised her Mother to doo full well
Euery thing after her counsell.
jptnts.
36 Mery Jests of the
fgrste merge
declareth how this faire & wel nurtured Damsel
Edyth was maryed to one Thomas Ellys: and how
she ran away with another, by whome she had a
bastard Doughter : and how she deceyued a Gentle
man, who (for her worthinesse) preferred her to
Sir Thomas Denys, before whom
she auouched her Doughter to
be Heire of fair landes.
THOMAS ELLYS she maryed for a yeare or two,
And then left hym, and away dyd go
With a seruant of the Erie of Wyltshyre,
The which payd her well her hyre.
By hym in advoutry a childe she had,
Which dyed, when it was but a Lad :
Than her Lemman cast her vp,
Go where she wold : gup queane gup.
She toke her way from then ouer
To a Towne called Andouer.
And there she made a Gentylman
Beleue that she was from hym gone,
To seeke her a friend, which in her right
Widow Edyth. 37
Would defend her with mayne and might :
For great wrong she said she had,
And by mighty hand was sore bestad ;
And by mighty hand wrongfully reft
Both house and lande, and nothyng to her left ;
And what so he were, that of good affection
Wolde her helpe, the whole disposition
Of her onely Doughter he should haue,
Which is a great Heyre, God her saue.
This Gentilman went [in] her right
To Syr Thomas Dennis, a worshipfull Knight,
Informyng hym, how that it stood
With this wydow of gentle blood,
And how that she had a Doughter and Heire,
Tender of Age, goodly and fayre :
Which should inherite successiuely
Both house and lande, and that good plentie ;
And who that would help her to her ryght,
Should haue her Doughter day and nyght,
In honestie to vse, and her selfe both ;
Whiche thyng she bound with a great Othe.
The Knight, hearyng this euery dell,
Bad the gentylman no longer to dwell,
But walke with her, and fet her Doughter,
And we shall commyn more hereafter.
Then they departed, and wandred right foorth,
Tyl they w* good speed cam both to Wainsworth ;
38 Mery Jests of the
And there the gentylman full well did espie,
How the coggyng queane most falsly dyd lye.
Then would he no longer geue heede to her talke,
But bad her be packyng w 1 a vengeance, & walke,
And neuer to come in his sight any more :
Syr, no more I wyl not (quoth she), & god before.
secontr mcrg
how this liynge Wydowe Edyth made a poore man
to vnthatch his House, and bore him in hand, she
would bestow the coueryng of it with Lead : And
how she deceiued a Barbour, makyng hym
beleue she was a Wydowe, and had
great abundance of Richesse.
FROM Wainsworth, than, she tooke her way,
To Kew, where the y e Lord Chamberlayn lay.
And not far from his place, a good long space
In a poore mans house lodged she was,
And was in good credence with him in deede.
She, seing the house couered with reede,
Sayd to her Hoste, vpon a day :
Mine Host (quod she), next to the hye way,
Widow Edyth. 39
Take ye the thak of your house a downe ;
It is a foule sight buttying on the towne :
Haue it away fast, leaue the Rafters bare,
And for a new couering take ye no care ;
It shalbe hilled agayne, ere it be long,
But loke ye wel that the Rafters be strong :
For I tell you they shall beare a great weight.
Hoste (quod she), I sweare by this light,
I wyll haue that end couered with Lead ;
Came neuer such a coueryng ouer thy head.
Nor none of thy kin, I may say to thee.
It lyeth in my Storehouse, so mote I thee,
In fayre playne rolles new melt with glede.
My Plommer bestowed it, I pray God hym spede,
An honest man is he, and expert in that Art.
The selfe same day that he did depart
A way from my house, I cannot tell where,
Many a fayre Noble with him he did bere.
Her Hoste, when he had hard this tale,
With his hands his cap he gan avale,
And with his knees flexed, sayd vnto her there :
I cry you mercy, Mistris, what do you here
In this poore cotage which is not meete for you ?
Holde thy peace (quod she), for I wil not be kno,
What I am as yet, and for consideration ;
Go thou thy way, and worke after the facion,
As I haue sayd : & looke thou speke no worde,;
4O Mery Jests of the
But is none of my Lords seruants at bord
With you (quod she), nor hawnte they not heare ?
It is lyke y* they should, for you haue good beere.
Yes (quod her hoste), now and then among
My Lords Barbour is here, w* many a good song ;
A liuely yong man, I tell you, & full of corage ;
Somtyme we haue here our whit wine w* borag,
And wafers pypyng hot out of the glede.
We chat and laugh it out, so God me spede !
Mistresse, folke must nede be mery somtyme.
Hoste, ye say true, by holy Saint Sym,
Quod the wydow, but let us go to dinner,
It is xii of the cloke, and som what ouer.
Into the house they go, and take refection,
And after that they fell in further communication.
This yong ma y e barbour, as he was accustomed,
Came in sodenly, and biddeth them God spede :
Welcome my guest (quod y e good man of y e house),
How haue you done, since we eate the souse,
The last night, ye remember, to bedward ?
Tut, and it were a stone neuer so hard,
Quoth this barbour, it should digest with me :
For somtime, when it wyll not forge,
I drinke a little lamp Oyle, & cast up my gorge,
And then forthwith I am as hole as a trout.
But Hoste (quod he), what woman went out
At the Dore now ? doe you know her well 1
Widow Edyth. 41
By gods body, Thomas harbour, I shal thee tel.
She is a widow of late come to towne ;
But at al aduentures I had leuer tha my gowne
Thou were sure to her : for she to me sayd,
She is worth a M. li. and euery man payd ;
Besyde land, I cannot tell how mych.
The barbour gan to claw there it did not ych.
Holde your peace (quod he), she cometh in againe :
Mistresse, sayd Thomas, wil it plese you to drink ?
And be ye mery, and vse not to think :
Me semeth, it becometh a wel fauoured wight,
And namely a woman, to be glad and light.
Yong man (quod she), I thank God of his loue,
I haue no great cause to make any moue :
I knowledge this, that God hath indewed me
An hundred folde better than I am worthye,
And I pray to hym, that I neuer do the thing,
Which is contrary vnto his hye pleasyng.
Gods blessig haue you (sayd Thomas barbour),
Forsooth ye speake lyke a good Cristian creature ;
But let vs leaue al this, & make some good cheare.
Ostes, fyll vs an other pot with beere,
Quod y e Barbour, and bid this gentilwoma welcoe
Mistrisse, sayd y e good wife, this is all & some,
Ye be hartely welcome euen at one worde ;
And therewith she droue y e Cat of the borde,
And made rome for a dish or two more.
42 Mery Jests of the
This wydow had vnder her chin a sore,
That Surgeons cal Noli me tangere,
Which when the harbour did espye,
He sayd : Misterisse, may I be so bolde 1
Nay yet I will not touch it, for my hand is colde ;
I pray you what is this, God saue the mark 1
A thing (quod she), y* I wyll take no. great cark
For surgery therto : for I was borne so,
I thank God whether I ryde or go.
It doth not greue me otherwise than you see.
And it is no great blemysh, so mote I thee,
Quod the Barbour, but a lytell eye sore :
Now, Mistresse, do ye gladly, I can no more.
I trust we shall make better chere than this,
And then he began for to coll her and kysse.
So long they were dalliyng both day and night,
Tyll eche had others their trouth yplyght,
Whiche was the same day, as I hard say,
That the thatch of the house was pulled away ;
And asked they were in holy Churche,
Where Christ's workmen do wurche.
But when he, by long communication,
Knew her falshod and dissimulation,
And after he perceiued he was begyled,
In all the haste his wife he exyled,
Ratyng her with termes somthyng rude,
And here of hym I wyll conclude.
Widow Edyth. 43
tjgrfc merge
how this Wydow Edyth decyued her Hoste
at Hormynger, and her Hoste at Brandonfery,
and borowed money of them both : and
also, one Mayster Guy, of whom she
borowed iiij Marke.
THIS wydow then walked withouten fere,
Tyll that she came to Hormynger,
Within two myles of S. Edmunds bery,
And there she abode, full iocunde and mery,
For the space fully of vi weekes day ;
And borrowed money there as she lay.
Her old lyes she occupted styll,
The people gaue credence her untyll ;
At Thetford she sayd her stuffe lay,
Which false was proued vpon a day ;
Than one master Lee committed her to ward,
And little or nought she dyd it regard ;
On the vi. day after deliuered she was,
And at her owne lyberty to passe and repasse.
Then straight way she toke to Brandonfery,
In all her lyfe was she neuer so mery,
And there she borrowed of her Hoste
44 Mery Jests of the
Thirteene shillings, with myckle boste
Of her great substance, which she sayd she had ;
To Bradefolde straight her Hoste she lad,
Where she sayde that she dwelled as than.
And when she came thyther, she fild him a can,
Full with good Ale, and sayd he was welcome.
For his thirteene shillings she bad him bum,
And laughed tyghe : no more could he haue.
An oth he sware, so God hym saue,
The Justice should know of her deceyt,
A wh*** ! (quod he) heyt, wh***, heyt !
The Justice name was master Lee,
He sent her to Saint Edmonds berye.
And there in the Jayle halfe a yeare
She continewed without good cheare.
But after she was deliuered out
Upon a day, withouten doubt,
By Lorde Abbot commanded it should so bee,
When he was remembred of his charitye.
From thence she departed, and to Coulme she come,
Wher with her lyes, all and some,
She sudiorned, and was at borde
In an house of my Lord of Oxenforde,
Wherein a seruant of his owne did dwell,
Which brewed bere, but none to sell.
The Brewer was called John Douchmon,
With whom vi. dayes she dyd won.
Widow Edyth. 45
Then after to Stretford at the bow
She repayred right as I trow,
And vii. dayes there she abode,
Spreding her lyes all abrode.
In which tyme one Maister Gye,
Supposing nought that she did lye,
And trustyng of her to haue some good,
Foure Marks, by the swete roode,
He lent her out of his purs anon,
And asked ay, when she wold gon
To the place where her goods were layd,
Which was at Barking (as she sayd).
Master Guy and his sister both
To ride with her they were not loth,
Ne grudged nothing, till they perceiued,
That she had them falsly deceiued.
Than Master Guy, with egre moode,
In the place there as they stoode,
Raft her both Kyrtle and gowne,
And in her Peticote to the Towne
He sent her forth, Mahound her saue !
For his iiii. Marks no more could he haue.
JFmfe.
46 Mery Jests of the
fourth merg 3(est,
how this Wyddow Edyth deceiued a Doctor of
Diuynitie at S. Thomas of Akers in London of fiue
Nobles, that he lay out for her, and how shee
gaue him the slip. .
To Barkyng than she tooke her gate,
And lodged she was at the Abbay yate
For a day or two, till she could prouide
A Gowne : and then wolde no lenger byde
In that quarter ; she thought it not best ;
She deemd her profyt there did not rest,
Namely so neare the Nunnes nose.
In a mornyng she get her ouer the close,
Westwarde she yede, the soth to saye,
And came to London that same daye.
At London stone she was hosted,
And there she prated and she bosted
Of much fayre stuffe that she had,
The which stuffe she wolde be glad
For the loue of Christ to forsake,
And Mantle and Ring for to take.
She prayed her Hoste after a day or two,
To let his worke, and with her to go :
Widow Edyth. 47
And bring her to some discrete man,
The which full well tell can,
What belongeth vnto that thing,
I meane the Mantle and the Ring.
Of him she sayd she would confessed be,
Desyring the hole Trinitie
To be her ayde in that foresayde mater.
Her Host brought her to S. Thomas of Aker,
And there she was prouided anone,
I tell you for troth e, of such a one,
As knew by learning what was to do
In such busynes, and what longeth therto.
A Doctor he was of hie deuinytie,
Called deuote and ful of charitie :
A good publysher of God's word
In Church and Towne, and sitting at the Bord :
This world dispising night and day :
All mundayne glory, he wold saye,
I wholy defye, and vtterly forsake :
The Deuyll (quod he) shall them al take,
That loueth these riches and pomp temporall,
More then God that sent them all.
They shall neuer see their maker in the face :
With Sathan prepared is their place,
In the dark dongeon, in the region alow,
Of ioy and blis neuer for to know :
More sinfull liuyng was neuer vsed,
48 Mery Jests of the
Than is now a dayes : no vice refused :
And worst of all, with vs of the Church,
That should teach other, how they should wurck,
And to shew them the way to heauens blisse,
Where our Sauiours dwelling is.
God, why doe we not so 1
Why doe we not let these Beneficies go 1
Why do we retayne more then suffises 1
Why do we not geue vnto them that cries ?
Why fyll we our Bellyes, and let other go w*oute ?
Why doe we not walke out all aboute ?
Why doe we not pray and watch all night 1
Why doe we not our duty, as it is right ?
Why doe we not let other mens wiues alone,
And sylly poore wenches, making their mone 1
Why obserue we not the precepts of God ?
What yf we be punished with our owne rod,
Whom shall we erecte the fault vnto,
But to our selfes that can neuer say no ?
And one thing ther is, y* maketh my hart to blede,
As oft as I think thereon, so god me spede.
This coueitousnesse vsed with men of my facultye,
Oh, what meane they 1 Christs holy benedicitie !
Can they not be content w* iiii. nor w* fyue 1
1 trow they wold that no man should thriue,
But them selfes onely, an heauy case !
I know one man, wheresoeuer he was,
Widow Edyth. 49
That hath vi. benefices, and yet not content,
And the least of them is xx. li. rent.
I meane by the yeare, and the cure serued,
And no good is don, but all reserued :
It is maruell to see the vnsaciable mind,
That can neuer be fulfylled, before nor behind :
I assure you, I could be wel pleased
With iiii. such promocions : & hold me wel eased
As for a certayne time, tyl an other fall,
Welcome, good wyfe, what say you to all
This world ? now (quod he) haue done let see.
Sir, sayd this widow, vnder benedicitie,
I haue for to speak, if it lyke you to heare.
Come your wayes (quod he), & be of good cheare ;
Dispayre not, what so euer the matter bee :
I shall go betwene the Feend and thee ;
And eke discharge thee agayne our heauen king,
If that you wyll doe after my teaching.
Wherfore begin ye in Christs holy name ;
Breake your mind hardly, auoyde all shame.
She kneeled the a down on her knees deuoutly,
And tolde her confessour many a great lye :
And of the treasure that she had in store ;
And when that she could tell no more,
Master Doctor bad she should be mery ;
He sayd : Ego absoluo te :
Forte sic, forte non.
3- E
5O Mery Jests of the
And when that they had al done,
Out of the Church they went both.
She promised him a Gowne of cloth,
Of Scarlet coulour, very fine in grayne,
And a hood thereto, to kepe him from the rayne.
She promised him, beside all that,
He should haue ye mary algate :
Of Goblets no more but a nest, 1
And of other things she made him hest. 2
So that 3 he wolde, while she were in towne,
Walke with her vp and downe,
And lay out mony alway as she neede,
And three times double ; so god her speede,
He should haue agayne within three dayes ;
Therin should be made no delayes.
Master Doctor was well content,
And in the Cittie before her he went,
So long tyll that he had out layd
Of his owne money, and for her payd,
Fiue Nobles, if the reknyng be right,
And then anone she stale a way by night.
Master Doctor thought great vnkindnes,
That he was so serued for his gentylnes ;
But she is gone : what remedy now ]
His money shalbe payd hym, I wot neuer how.
(i) A set of goblets of different sizes, fitting into each other, commencing
with the largest in use, and descending to the smallest by regular grada
tions, was termed a nest of goblets. (2) Promise. (3) Old ed. has thas.
Widow Edyth. 5 1
fg[f]tf) nurg Jgjest
how this wydow deceyued a man & his wife
that were goynge on pilgremage : who layd out
for her iiij. nobles : and how she deceiued
a scriuener in London, whose name
was Rowse.
BUT more wyll I tel you in very deede
Of this wydow, whom I pray god speede.
Shortly after she walked by the Thems side,
Not far from a way where folke did ride.
A mong all other, a man and his wife
She saw riding withouten stryfe,
Both being of meetly good age :
It semed that they were on pilgremage
Toward Canterbery, or some other place,
Where as it pleased god of his grace.
But where ere they ryd, or to what end,
Right soone she made them both discend
Downe from their caple to the cold ground :
For she fared as she wold her selfe drownd.
This goodmans name was called John Frank,
His wyfe Annes, a Dame full crank :
Both they came ronning in great hast
Toward this wydow, full s6re a gast :
2
52 Mery Jests of the
Leest that she, ere they come neare,
Wolde spill her selfe, she made such cheare.
John Frank cryed : woman, remember thee,
What intendest thou 1 aye benedicitie !
Thynk on God, and banysh the fowle feend ;
Beware of dispayre, thy selfe not shend.
She stayed at that, and sighed sore, ,
And sayd : blessed be you, I can no more :
For had ye not come the sooner, verely
I should haue been damned perpetually,
But I pray you now tel me what I shal doe.
Quod this frank : come away & with vs go,
And tell vs further of your estate.
Then (quod she) I haue great hate ;
God I take to iudge for mine owne right,
My goods are taken away by might :
Vndone I am, standyng on this ground,
I am scarcely left worth iii. hundreth pound,
As in mouable substance, beside a lytell lande,
Whiche mine husbande left vnto my hand :
For she sayd, that her husbande was a great man
Of lande, and sayd that he was dead than.
God assoyle his soule ! (quod she) he was kind to me,
And I trust I quyt his kyndenes (quod she) :
For all folke saiyng, God forgeue them !
This Frank desyred her to walke with hym
As farre as London and he would do his payne,
Widow Edyth. 53
That she might be restored a gayne,
And the malefactors punished, what so euer they be ;
Wydow, dread ye nothyng, quod he,
But come on this way, in the name of our lorde,
And I shall bryng you, where ye shall be at boord
With a frende of myne, in an honest howse :
The good mannes sir name is called Rowse.
There ye shall be honestly entreated ;
But where is the stuffe, wherof ye speaked ?
At Kyngston, at Kyngston, then quod she ;
I care not muche for it, so mot I thee,
Ne for all this world ; and thenvith she gan wepe.
This Frankes hart than in his body lepe :
This game, thought he, goeth fayre and well,
He requyred her no more to tell
As at that tyme, but went foorthryght,
And came to their lodgyng before nyght
To Frankes frende, as I tolde you before.
A scryuener he was, and wrought full sore,
To hym they were welcome, and welcome agayn,
And specially, whe Frank had tould him certain,
What woman she was, and of what substance.
Then she tould the scryuener of the great dystance,
That she was at for her ryght,
And much wrong she had by meanes of a knight
Whiche shallbe nameles as yet (quod she),
Tyll I see my tyme auenged for to bee.
54 Mery Jests of the
God wyll sende me once a frende, I truste,
Before whiche tyme I can take no rest,
Nother in body, nor in conscience.
Tarry ye here, sayd y e scryuener, go ye not hence,
And we shall haue frendes ynow for money.
I wyll not sticke for that truely, quod she,
Howbeit my money is almost spent, .
But I haue other thynges, whiche shalbe hent,
And money made therof me to defende.
I neuer had that Jewell, so God me mende,
In all my lyfe, but could finde in myne hert,
In tyme of neede, therwith to depart.
At Kingston on Temmes I haue certayne Plate,
XL. poundes wurthe, for all this mortall hate,
And other thynges withall, els I beshrewe some.
She desyred her Hoste to her for to come :
I haue, quod she, to tell you in priuitie :
Step ye a lytell apart, let your busynes bee.
Into the shop they go out of the hall,
And then she began for to tell hym all,
And more, too, by a an hundreth lyes.
The scryuener thanked her xl. sythes :
For she had made to hym graunt
Of part of her Plate wherof she made vaunt ;
And the keepyng of al together he shuld haue.
An Othe she sware, so God her saue,
Of all her treasure she cared not a myte,
Widow EdytJu 5 5
So that she might her enemyes acquyte.
But Hoste, quod she, my friend e leefe and dere,
I pray you of your good counsell here :
This wretched worlde I am mynded to forsake,
And chastytie for to avowe and take ;
All my causes I am content to resine
Into your handes, myne owne Hoste myne ;
Doo as ye lyst, be it good or yll,
Ye shall haue all to order at your wyll.
The scryuener sayd : gramercy, Maistresse,
Forsothe, quod he, ye intende well doubtlesse ;
If ye wyll do as ye say, I holde well withall.
Than he called John Franke out of the Hall,
And made hym preuie vnto euery thyng.
She said unto the both, that she ought offeryng
To Sainct Sauiours, and she would very fayne
To pay her offeryng, and then returne agayne.
And after she said, that she would desire
Her Hoste to write her Testament for hyre,
And last wyll, whyle she were in good mynde,
So discretly, that as for vnkinde
Her frendes should not hold her another day,
Whun that her presence is hence away.
The scryuener & Frank both praysed her gretly
For her good purpose, and said to her truely :
To performe your pylgremage, it is well done,
And I myselfe shall wayt you vpon,
56 Mery Jests of the
Quod John Franke, and eke I wyll prouyde
A Mayden seruant, to walke by your side.
To ward Saynt Sauiours in haste she yede,
As ye haue heard beyng accompanied.
Rowsys wyues best Kyrttyll and Gowne
She weared on her backe throw the towne,
Which was lent her of good affection,
Because that her owne was welnye done.
Frank was her amner, 1 and layd out to the poore
By the way as they went, and at the Church dore,
Of his owne proper money, which did amount
To the some of ii. Marks by true account.
And while they were forth, this Rowse y e scriuener
Sent to Kingston, for to enquyre
Of her treasure there being in mew ;
But in all the towne she was not worth a q,
How be it she was there ; full well I know,
The people laughed all on a row.
Home goeth the messenger, and told in hast
Unto the scriuener all this quoynt cast.
By coks soule (quod he), it is not so, I hope.
Els (quod the seruant), hang me with a rope.
For I have enquyred substancyally
In euery place, I tell you, by and by.
By our Lady masse, then, all is not right ;
But whist ! no more, she wyll be here to night :
(i) Almoner.
Widow Edyth. 57
My cosen Frank wyl not let her depart away.
Thou shalt heare other tidings to morrow or day.
At fiue of the clocke in the after noone,
These Pilgrims came home full soone,
And anon was layd to this widows charge,
With hye words out at large,
Her false deceipt from poynt to poynt.
Than strode she in great disioynt,
And no reason could she aledge nor say,
For her excuse but gan for to pray.
Nay then, sayd y scriuener, god geue me sorow,
How be it thou shalt tary heare tyl to morow,
And then forth shalt thou sterk belly naked,
With dogs, arrand quen, thou shalt be bayted.
The scriuener was halle ashamed of this,
And at iii of the cloke, when he rose for to p*"""*,
He put forth his gest on the backside,
Without company or any guide.
Her Gowne and her Kyrtle he tooke away,
And Frank went to Fullam on the next day,
Deferryng his pylgremage to Caunterbery,
Full sad he was and nothyng mery.
His mony was gone and spent indede,
The blessed Marter quit him his mede !
58 Mery Jests of the
sjjxti) merg
how this wydow Edyth deceiued a Draper
in London of a new Gowne and a new Kyrtell, and
how she sent him for a nest of Goblets to the
Scriuener, that she had deceiued afore.
HERE wyll I tary no lenger while,
But to the wydow agayne my stile
I shal direct : and tell some deale more
Of her pastime, and God before.
In the Cittie she walked in her Peticote :
Yet, at the last, acquayntaunce she gote,
Out of her old walke, on the other side.
A Draper there was that loued no pride,
To whom she preferred her accustomed craft,
Lye after lye, and sayd she was beraft
A greate part of her goods full wrongfully.
Alas, (quod the Draper ful piteously)
It is ruth to see you go so slender.
I shall mend it (quod she), when I come yender
To winsore (I trust), where my staff is ;
Gods curse haue they, that make me doe this.
Master mine (quod she), I pray you be not wroth,
Might I be so bolde as of your hole cloth
To desire you for to deliuer vnto me
Widow Edyth. 59
As much as wyll suffyse (quod she)
To make a large Gowne and a Kyrtell,
And I shall pay you therfore full well,
When I come to winsore, & after your owne price,
So that ye set not on me all the dice,
But let me haue a penyworth for a peny.
Mistresse, sayd the Draper, if there be any
Ware in the shop that wyll doe you good,
You shal haue it, I swere by the roode,
So that ye put me in good suretie
For my money : for I know you not, truely.
Syr, sayd the wydow, if it be your pleasure
To commaund your seruant to ride to Wynsore,
In my company, within these vi. dayes,
You shal haue your money without any delayes,
And a pleasure l withall for your good wyll.
Forsooth, sayd y e Draper, you speake good skyll ;
And shortly, without any interogation,
He deliuered vnto her at the mocion
Of broade cloth iiii. yardes ful wely mote,
And eke as much as wolde make her a cote,
A Kyrtell, I wolde say, of good wolstet, 2
And commanded his seruant for to beare it
To the Taylour to be made in hast.
And on the 4. day after, whe she had toke repast,
The Draper sent a Jurneyman of his
(1} A gratuity. (2) Worsted.
60 Mery Jests of the
With her to Winsore, the way they did not mis.
A gardeuyaunce l the seruant with him bare,
Therin to bring thence all the short ware,
That she had promised the Draper before,
He should haue in keeping, I can no more.
To winsore they came ii houres before night,
And at a dore off her horse down she light ;
And in she goth, no more but for a countenaunce,
And came out agayne, saying w* a vengeaunce,
They must go by water and the way so fayre,
But I think they lacked horse to repayre.
The seruant, abroade walkyng the horses,
Hard her wel, when she sayd al this :
No force (quod he), I shall haue the lesse to cary.
So you shall, sayd she, nor ye nede not to tary.
But set vp your horse therfore anon
In some Inne, and in the meane season
I shal hastely go wright a skrow,
To certyfie your master shortly, as I trow.
The seruant to an Inne the horses had,
While she caused the letter to be made,
And then gaue it him, and bad him go to bed
To Colbroke, wher his horse better might be fed ;
And syr, she sayd, I thanke you for your payne ;
Your master wylbe plesed, this letter whe he hath
saine.
i) A trunk.
Widow Edyth. 61
A cup w* ale at y e dore she made him drink,
And the he rode to Colbroke, ere time was to wik ;
And to London on y morow, & deliuered his letter
Vnto the Draper that was his master.
The letter bad that he sholde resorte
To a Scriuener, take hede what I reporte.
He dwelleth in chepeside, and his name is Rouse.
Byd him deliuer you out of his house,
By such a token, an hole nest of Goblets,
A dosen of spoones, se there be no lets,
A standyng cup with a couer percell gilt.
Now, thoght y* Draper, I haue in my hand the hilt ;
I wyl plede in possessio, might I y* possed.
To the Scriuener his seruant he sent w* spede
For this foresayd geare, and bid him not tary ;
This seruants name was called Harry.
His errand he sayeth vnto the Scriuener,
And diligently this Rouse gaue an eare :
From the begynnyng markyng his tale well ;
And when the seruant had tolde euery dell,
The Scryuener sayd : I wyl delyuer none to thee ;
Go home, and byd thy Maister come to mee.
I wyll so answere hym, that he shalbe content.
The Seruant in haste to his Master went,
And tolde hym that he must him selfe repayre
For this Plate so costly and so fayre.
A ! I see well, quod the Draper, this man is no loole ;
62 Mery Jests of the
Loe ! what it is to put a childe to scoole
To learne wisdome, while he is yong !
Upon his way he walked so long,
Tyll he came thither, and gan to tell his tale.
Neibor, quod y e Scriuener, let vs drynk som ale,
And speake no more in this matter for shame,
For ye are begyled, and I am the same.
Nay, by cockes body, I put you out of doubt,
Sayd the Draper, ye shall not laugh it out
With me after suche maner : for I wyll haue it
indeed.
Ye shal haue none of me, by Christs crede,
Quod the Scriuener, get it where ye can ;
But harken what I shall tell you, man,
Let me rownd in your eare that nobody -know :
For, and if it be abroade yblow,
We shalbe laughed to scorne both,
Wherfore, Neyghbour, looke ye be not wroth.
She shewed you she had Plate, and so she told me ;
But all the good she hath is not wurth a peny.
I haue it proued ; therfore leaue your sighyng ;
This shall be good I tell you for our learnyng.
Good ! quod the Draper, in the Deuylles name !
A vengeance lyght on her and open shame !
By the holy Masse, quod he, I wil haue the quean,
Els it shall cost me the labour of all my men.
For the space I tell you of this fortnyghts daye
Widow Edyth. 63
She shalbe punyshed truely, as I you say,
To the ensample of all other, & god grant me lyfe ;
Farewel, neighbor, I wyl go dine with my wife.
Sayd the Draper, sith it wyl be non other.
A dieu, neighbor, and farewell, quod the tother.
This Draper went him home in all the haste,
And commanded his seruant to take repaste,
And after to ride, as fast as he can,
To winsor, and demaund for this woman ;
And if it so betyde thou canst her finde,
Take an officer and fast her bynde :
Se her bestowed, and then come and tell me,
And by my thyrst 1 shortly wyl I see,
What the Law wil say to y e hore & theefe both.
I pray thee make spede, and take my boots of
cloth ;
Draw them on thy legs : for the way is depe.
The seruant in hast vpon his horse lepe,
And rode to winsor, by then it was night,
And at an Inne, where he dyd alight,
He hard tell that the widow was gon,
Where ne whether wist no man.
(i) So old ed. ; but query, tryst, for faith.
64 Mery Jests of the
mtrg
how 1 this wydow Edyth deceiued a seruant of
Syr Thomas Neuelles, who in hope to haue her in
maryage with all her great riches, kepte her
company tyll all his money was spent :
and then she went to seeke
her Freendes.
THE seruante to London returned agayne,
And on the next morow she was scene
In Southwark, where she did abyde
The space of iii. dayes, and then a way did ryde
With carryars into Surrey, the sothe to say ;
And at Towton she arryued upon a day,
And there, not farre from a knyghts place,
Nyne dayes her tarying was.
In whiche tyme a seruyng man
Hawnted that House now and than,
With whom she gan to curry fauell ;
His Maister was Sir Thomas Neuell,
She promised hym to be his Spouse,
And desired him to ryde to her house,
To see her treasore and also her store.
I wyll, quod she, sende hym before,
(1) Old ed. has who.
(2) Old ed. has Sztssex. See Additional Notes.
Widow Edyth. 65
If that ye wyll tell me what tyme ye wyll fare,
Some of my frendes forsoth shal be thare,
And eke my tenantes, as their dutie is.
Then he began her to halse and kysse,
Saying : hart roote, if it please you,
I am all redy, and it were euen now.
I wot well my Maister wyll not say me nay,
And if that I be furth a Monethes day ;
So that I tell hym where aboutes I am,
He wyll not be angry ; but, in Goddes name,
Peraduenture he wil say, where hast thou ben so
long?
Than, and I make curtsie, & hold my tong,
He hath done wi'th the twinklyng of an eye.
But after that I haue told hym truely, .
That I ryde with you, he wyl be wel content,
Once considering the cause [and] y e fine of our
intent.
Well then, quod she, on Saterday in y e morning
Let vs ryde forth our way fastyng,
And at Senock 1 there will we bayt.
I feare least my Gerle take some conceyt,
Because that I am so long her fro :
It is xvi. weekes and somwhat mo,
Sinc[e] I garnished her with y e signe of the Crosse.
(i) Sevenoke, in Kent (now Scvenoaks). Lambarde says: Sennockt
or Seven oke.
66 Mery Jests of the
She learned her boke with the goodman Rosse
In Senock towne, not far from the Church ;
Ye know him wel ynow : for he doth worch
And maketh Carpets now and than.
Trew you say (quod he), I know that man.
Now in sooth I will go, and ask my master leaue,
And here is a Ring, which I you geue
Vpon condition ye wot wel what.
Yes, I warrant you, quod she, I remember that.
Then fare wel, honycombe, til I se you againe.
God be with you, and shield you from the raine,
Sayd the wydow ; but loke that you tell
Vnto your master wisely and well
All our foreward, and leaue nothing behinde.
Yes, yes, quod he, as ye shal wel finde.
To his master he goeth, as fast as he can,
And desired him of licence anon
To ryde wyth this widow a lyttell way,
As far as her house, at S. Mary Skray j 1
And I trust in God omnipotent,
My labour in vayne shal not be spent.
His master gaue him leaue for to ride :
Worke wisely (quod he), what so euer betide,
And if that her daughter be borne to land,
Than I aduise thee to fall in hand
(i) Now known as St. Mary Cray. It is two-and-twenty miles from
Maidstone.
Widow Edyth. 67
With the child, and let the mother go.
By God, sayd the seruant, and peraduenture so
I wyll yet doe, when I haue scene both.
And vpon the Fryday forth he goth
Toward this widow, ioly and amorous
She was lodged in an honest man's house.
That night they made mery, with fyl y e cup, fil,
And on the morow they ride forth at their will.
To Senock they come by than it was prime,
And goeth to dinner all by tyme.
They made good cheare, and spared for no cost ;
The wydow of new gan for to bost,
But of her daughter she spake no worde,
And when that taken vp was the borde,
And all payde for that was come in,
Come hether (quod she), swete hart mine,
I requyre you that you wyll take the way,
As fast as ye can, to S. Mary Skray,
And demaunde there for the wydows house,
That lately was both wife and spouse
To such a man, whose soule god pardon !
And when that ye come to the house anone,
Ye shal say vnto my seruant there,
I meane hym that is charged with my gere,
Arid all my household stuffe in my absence,
That he, ere euer ye depart from thence,
Shew you mine house round all about,
F 2
68 Mery Jests of the
And eke my comodities within and without,
And when you haue viewed everything,
Than bid my seruant without tarying
Leade you fast into my closet ryght,
And doe vp the window to let in the light,
Vnlocke the dore with this same key
If I trusted you not, I swere by my fay,
Ye should not come so neare my gromelseede
And take no more than I you bede ;
Within my closet ye shal anon finde
A little Casket, that standeth al behinde
My ship Coffer, downe iust by the wall.
Beare with you the Casket prety and small ;
But I charge you take none other thing :
For and you doe, at my returning
I shall know all ; therefore now take heede.
Mary, sayd the yong man, God forbede,
Seing that ye do trust me so wel.
Go your wayes the, quod she, & here I wyl dwell,
Tyl ye come agayne, but looke ye make haste.
I wyll ride (quod he) euen all as fast,
As my Geldyng can beare me away.
Forth he galopeth to saint Mary Skray,
And there he inquered as she hym bad,
And anon perfect tidings he had
That he was begiled : for there was no man
Could tell any tidings of such a woman.
, Widow Edyth. 69
Then away rideth he as fast as he may,
And came to Senock at the next day.
But he could not come thither so soone,
But ere euer that he came, the wydow was gon,
Nobody could tell whether she was yede.
Master Neuels seruant rid home w* good spede,
Being in his minde not well content,
For some money he had her lent,
And payd for her cost, I cannot tell what.
Yea, with a mischife, I could not beware that,
Quod he than ; but yet no force, let go ;
I wylbe aduised, agayne or I doe so.
merg
how this wydow Edyth deceiued a seruant
of the Byshop of Rochesters 1 w* cogging and boast-
yng of her great Richesse, who likewise
thought to haue had her in mariage.
The Wydow northward tooke her way,
And came to Rochester the next day,
And there, within a little space,
To a yongman that seruant was
(i) The celebrated Fisher.
/o Mery Jests of the
Vnto the Byshop in the Towne,
She promised him dale and downe,
On that condition he wolde her wed,
And keepe her company at boord & in bed.
This yongman was glad and light :
Now, thought he, I shalbe made a knight
By the meanes of this gentlewomans store ;
Gramercy, Fortune I can no more.
He permytted in hast to be assembled
With her at the church, and there resembled
Or ioyned in one flesh that is dying,
And two soules euermore liuyng.
Good cheare he made her in her Inne,
And eke he would not neuer blinne,
Tyl he had brought her to his Lorde,
Before whom they were at accorde
Upon a condition maryed to be,
Which condition was, if that she
Could performe all that she had sayd,
He wolde then marry her, it should not be delayd.
Here vpon they departed and forth went ;
On the morow my Lorde for her sent,
To dyne with him, and to commen further.
Then was she gone ; but when and whether,
No wyght any worde of her could tell ;
But yet she walked to my Lorde of Arundell.
Widow Edyth. 71
6e ngntfi mng 3fest,
how this wydow Edyth deceyued a Lorde,
sometime Earle of Arundell j 1 and how he sent fiue
of his men seruantes and a handmayden to
beare her company, and fetch her daugh
ter who, as she boasted, was Heyre
of great Landes.
And there anon she tould the Earle,
That she had a daughter, a little gerle
Which was borne to be Heyre
To great inheritaunce & lands good and fayre,
And mouable substaunce not a lyte,
If it please God her to respyte,
And graunt her lyfe, tyll she succeede
Her elders aliue, of whose lede
She is issued by lyneall dissent.
And eke she sayd, or that she went,
That her daughter should holde land
Heareafter, when it commeth to her hand,
Of that Earle, and pay hym rent.
Wherfore she sayd that she was content,
His Lordship should haue her to dispose
(i) Thomas Fitzalan, i2th Earl of Arundel, of that family, K.G. ;
Ob. 1524.
72 Mery Jests of the
And mary her, as him best suppose,
Vnto gentylman, Yeman or Grome.
She wold haue her daughter come ;
If it pleased his Lordship it should so be,
She wold fetch her into that contrie.
The Earle was contented it should be so,
And bad his seruants for to go,
That is to say, to the number of fiue,
nd redy make them bliue,
To wayt on this gentil won, & bring her thither,
She herselfe could not tell whether,
Notwithstanding she did say,
That her houshold was at Foots Scray, 1
Where she retayned great famely,
As they shall well find sykerly
At their repayre, and God before !
And foorth they ride without more.
She was accompayned, as I haue sayd,
With fiue Yemen and a Mayde ;
And all they woed as they rode,
Each to him selfe at large abrode.
One sheweth his lustynes & mastery,
An other taketh vp his horse on hye,
The thyrd sayd that he had treasure in store,
(i) In the neighbourhood of St. Mary Cray. Both places derived
their name from the Cray, a well-known trout-stream ; which has also
christened other localities thereabout, particularly the parish of Crayford.
Widow Edyth. 73
The fourth sayd that he had myckle more,
The fifth was a man of few words ;
At the last he sayd : a straw for your hoords !
Peraduenture he is here that saith not all,
That somewhat could say, if nede should fall.
Be mery, Wydow, then quod he,
And cast a Sheps eye once on me :
For, though that I ride pensiue and styll,
Perhaps yet I could satisefy your wyll
As well as some other, though I cry not out.
But all this while she cast about,
How she might conueniently steale them fro.
But at a woods side it happened so,
A fayre house there was, which she sayd
Her husband bought it, and for it payd,
Two yeares before he let his lyfe,
And she was now in mikell stryfe
For the sayd house and lands withall,
And sued she was in Westmynster hall.
Great thought she toke for a freend,
That in her right wold her defend.
One of the company, that hard this,
Fayned him to light downe to p**,
Purposedly for to go to enquyre
Of this matter, to know yf that it were,
As she had sayd, or els that she lyed.
To the house he goeth, and there he tryed
74 Mery Jests of the
That she was falce, and a noughty queane,
In all England not worth a beane.
When he hard this, he galoped fast ;
His company he ouer toke at the last,
And declared vnto them, from poynt to poynt.
Then all their loue was sodenly quoynt.
They light doune all by one accorde,
Xv. myle when the had rode,
And stripped her out of her array :
Walke, hore, they all gan say.
Home agayne they toke the way ;
And yet she repayred to Foots Scray.
There she abode a certayne season,
The next house vnto one master Heron.
A Gowne and a Kyrtle there she dyd hyre
Of a poore woman, to were to a fayre
Kept there besides vpon an hofy day.
Fayne she wold haue made her selfe gay,
At the foresayd fayre to haue be solde,
If any man wold be so bolde,
Without examynation for to alight.
And when that she was out of sight,
She got her away a great pace.
Then came she to Croyden, there as she was
Continewing by the space of the wook,
Duryng the which time a poore Cook
There dwellyng she dyd begile,
Widow Edyth. 75
And borowed of him, in that while,
Fiue shillings in Groats and pence ;
And then priuely she stale away from thence.
Then she came to Eltham the right way,
Where she rested her three weekes & a day,
And dyd nothyng but ay enquere
Of Gentlemen dwelling here and there ;
And when she saw her time, on an holy day,
She walked to a Thorp 1 called Batersay; 2
And, on the next day after, she took a Whery,
And ouer Thames she was rowed ful mery.
tent!) merg
how this Wydow Edyth deceiued three yong
men of Chelsay.that were seruants to Syr Thomas
More, and were all three suters vnto her for
Maryage, and what mischaunce
happened vnto her.
At Chelsay was her ariuall,
Where she had best cheare of all,
In the house of Syr Thomas More.
After that she had tolde of her store,
And of her hauyour and credence eke,
(r) Village. 2) Battersea, in Surrey.
76 Mery Jests of the
There was nothing for her to seeke,
That could make her mery other euyn or morow,
I pray to God now geue her sorow !
At Eltham she sayd that she dyd dwell,
And of her substance there she gan to tell :
Two wolsted Lomes she had, by her fay,
And two Mills that went night and day ;
A Beere brewhouse, in which euery week once
Twenty quarters were brewed al at once ;
Fowre Plowes she kept, the earth to cultiue,
And xv. great knaues to help her to thriue ;
Seauen women seruants, y* wull to spin & carde,
And to mylke the kyne abroad in the yarde.
She recounted her famyly & houssholde so great,
That three yong men she cast in a heat,
Which seruants were in the same place,
And alb they woed her a good pace.
By meanes, I tel you, and by brocage,
They sware they wolde be all her owne page.
One of them had to name Thomas Croxton,
And seruant he was to master Alengton i 1
A man, I tell you, in whom dame nature
Had 2 don her part as in stature :
He was mighty chyned, with boanes stronge,
(1) Was this Robert Alynton, author of Libell-us Sophistarum, of
which there were several editions from the early English press ?
(2) Old Ed. has hap.
Widow Edyth. 77
Shoulders broade and armes longe,
Very actiue, and apt to euery thyng,
Able to serue any Prynce or Kyng,
As for his person and conditions withall.
But there is a poynt, least that for parciall
I should be holden, because he is my frend ;
Wherfore of his prayse here I make an end,
And som what I will tell of his woyng.
To his master & mistris he was gretly beholdlg :
For busy sute they made night and day
In his cause, if 1 I shall the sooth say ;
And he him elfe was full seruiseable
To this wydow at dinner and at the table ;
And eke at supper he stoode ay at her back,
So neare that, and if she had let a crack
Neuer so styll, he must haue had knowledge ;
But all is honycombe, he was in such dotage ;
Wherin a little while I let him dwell,
And of the seconde woer I shall you tell ;
Which had to name Thomas Arthur,
And seruant he was to master Roper. 2
A proper man, neither to hye nor to low;
But Dame nature sothely, as I trow,
d. has */.
(2) William Roper, Esq., of Well-hall, in the parish of Eltham, Kent,
Sir T. More's 'son-in-law. He married Margaret More. Roper left
behind him the Life of Sir Thomas More, which has passed through
several editions.
78 Mery Jests of the
Referred his gift vnto Dame grace,
Desiring her to consider the case
Concerning this man, and that she wolde
Indew him with verteous maners manifolde ;
And no doubt she was therin nothing slacke.
Peace, no more ! he standeth at my backe ;
And yf he here me praise him, he wil weue I flatter,
Therfore I wyl resort to former matter,
And tel of his woyng, partly as it was,
And what spechfolke he had by gods grace ;
His owne Master and Mistris also,
With other beside, I cannot tel who,
That laboured for him incessantly.
And his owne selfe, I tel you truly,
Was not necligent, ne lost no time,
But gaue attendaunce from morning to prime,
And the after none, with part of the night ;
In her chamber the candels he did light,
And tymbred her fyres in the chymney :
And can ye finde in your hart, he wold say,
To loue me, swete hart, best of all 1
Yes, quod she, but I wyll not tell you all,
What my hart thinketh as now;
But, Thomas, against to morow I pray you,
That you wyll get you leaue to ryde with me
As far as Braynford, and there ye shall se
Some money receyued, els it is yll.
Widow Edyth. 79
But I wold we had one, that this cup wold fil
With Malmesey, y* we might drink to bedward.
Whip ! quod Thomas, and got him down ward,
And commeth agayne with the cup full.
Drynk, Wydow, quod he, a good pull,
And when ye see your time, get you to rest :
He haue you in his keping y* may keepe you best !
Adew, quod she, and farewell till to morow ;
Here is good Malmesey, els god geue me sorow.
On the next day, Thomas rode w* this wydow
As far as Braynford, and I shall tel you how,
And what chere they made by y e way as they rod.
Thomas right well his horse bestrode,
A full fayre styrop out at the long ;
His horse was a beast goodly and strong,
And beare them both easely away,
And styll wolde stand, while Thomas did say :
Let me kis you, darling, turne your face hether ;
Be it, quod she, ere that we wend farther.
And thus the passe the time, as they ride
To Braynford, where they did not long abyde :
For shortly to Thomas she gan then tell,
Her debtour was gon to Kingston to dwel.
Thomas began for to muse of the matter,
And then priuely he did inquere
Of the goodman of y e house, wher his horse stoode,
Which knew her right well, & sware, by y e roode,
8o Mery Jests of the
She lied in euery thing that she dyd say.
Then quod Thomas to him selfe : a syra, a syra !
Is this the matter in very deede 1
Homeward he caryed her, with good speede,
To Chelsay againe, where she was vsed
As she was before, and holden excused.
Thomas kept al this within his owne brest,
Because his felows should not at him iest.
And in her chamber, the next night folowing,
There was the reuell and the gossupping :
The general bumming, as Marget Giggs sayde ;
Euery body laughed, and was well apayde.
Two of her woers being there present,
Thomas Arthur, when he saw his time, went,
And sat him downe in a chayre solemply,
And sayd nothing, but now and then an eye
He cast at his loue, as she stoode at the Cubord.
When she perceiued, she spake nere a word,
But stept vnto him, and kissed him sweet,
Sayig : how is it w* you, I pray you let me weet 1
Thomas answered : on this world, I think.
Tut, a straw ! quod she ; take the cup and drink.
Therwith she imbraced him : be mery, sweet hart ;
She turned her **** in his lap, & let a great ****.
And I loued you not (q. she), I wold not geue you
this.
Ha, ha, quod Tomas, ye be a mery one, i wis.
Widow Edyth. 81
They laughed on a row, y* som of them shoke ;
The Wydow desired y e court to be broke,
And ech wight to his bed to repayre.
The morow was Sunday, and the wether fayr.
This Wydow determined her selfe to walk
As far as Halywell : for she hard men talke,
That there should be a sister that day professed,
And to offer with her she was disposed,
Desiring the yong Nunne, w* her sisters all,
To pray for her to the hie God immortall,
That it shal please him of his aboundant grace,
In the end of this world, y* away from his face
She ne should be seperate in any wise.
To Holywell she walked, and once or twise
She drank, or she came there : for y e way was long.
The Nuns in y e quyre had begon their song
^n the hye masse ; & Bels. gyn to ryng,
When the wydow approched to make her offering.
After y e Gospel, her purse she toke in hand,
And serched therin ; but nothin she fand.
A syde she cast her eye, and anon was ware
Of Thomas Croxton, at Chelsay her first woer,
To whom she sayd : I pray you lend me fast
Some white mony that I might offer in hast,
Or els chaunge me a noble, quod she. Andn,
Thomas Croxton looked her vpon,
And sayd : sweet hart, ye shal chaunge no Golde
3- G
82 Mery Jests of the
At this time : I haue money inough. Holde,
How much wyll steede you ? say on : let's see.
Xii. pence, I pray you, delyuer vnto me,
Quod she than, and see it be in Grotes :
For I wyll offer xl. pence, because of reportes.
And I might once get home, I wold not care for
money.
When she had offered, the sooth to say,
She romed in the Cloyster too and fro,
Tyll a yong man saw where she dyd go ;
And Wa[l]ter Smyth was this yongmans name,
One of her louers, and I might tell for shame.
A ! thought Wa[l]ter, now here is good place
To speak of my matter, and to show the case,
How it standeth with mee, and also to be playne.
Softly he walketh [to] this wydow agayne,
And fyrst hailed her, as him thought meete ;
Then toke her in his armes, and kissed her swete.
She knew him well inough : for he was one of the
three,
That I told you before dwelt in Chelsay.
This Wa[l]ter his tale gan for to tell :
Wydow, quod he, take keepe and mark well,
What I shal to you say without dissimulation :
I can no lenger mew mine hartely affection,
Ne inclose the secrets of my trew minde,
But to you I must breke, trustyng ye wilbe kinde,
Widow Edyth. 83
Syrcustance voydyng, because I cannot suiurne
Long with you at this time, but I must return e
From whence I come ; therfore to you anon
Among your suters I pretend to be one.
Now, wydow, looke well vpon me, quod he,
And yf ye can finde in your hart to loue me
As wel, sweet darlyng, as I loue you,
Than I trust there shalbe such seeds isow
Betwyxt vs both, that it shalbe principally
To Gods pleasaunce and to our comfort secondly.
Then the Wydow answered w* a smiling chere,
And sayd : goodma Wa[l]ter, I pray you tel me here,
Whether ye mean good sadnes, 1 or els y* ye iest
I thinke as I speake, so god my soule rest,
Quod Wa[l]ter ; therfore shew vnto me,
That I shalbe accepted, 2 or els that I am not he.
I am a yong woer, and dare not speake for shame,
But yet to loue unloued ye know it is no gaine.
Troth ye say, quod she, I affyrme the same ;
And if I loue you not agai, in faith I am to blae :
Whe I come next to Chelsay, ye shal wel find,
That afore all other I beare you my good mynd.
A Crucifyx, quod she, of the pure Golde,
Which many a day hath remayned in my holde,
Ye shal haue it for a token and a remembrance.
Tha Wa[l]ter stode on tipto, & gan him self avance :
(i) Seriousness. (2) Old ed. has excepted.
G 2
84 Mery Jests of the
I thank you, quod he, euen with all my hart.
He kissed her deliciously, and then dyd depart.
To Chelsay againe she came the same night,
But tha y e world was chaged ; al was cum to light ;
Her substance was knowne & her selfe also :
For Thomas Arthur y* day had ridden to & fro,
And tried her not worth the sleue lace of a gowne
In all England, in Cittie nor yet in towne.
Than well a way her dyet was chaunged;
Her potage & eke her ale were well poudred
With an holsome influence, that surgeons call
Pouder Sinipari ; y* wil make on cast his gall.
It made her stomake vnable to broke any meate,
Now was she cold and forthwith in an heate ;
Her pulses beate, and her collour went and come ;
No morsell dyd she eate, but now and then b**.
She was greatly mistempered, & far out of frame ;
All that sate at Supper had good game
Her to behold, and they laught all aboute.
Quod she: for Goddes loue let me come out ;
Let me come, let me come, for our Ladies sake ;
My belly nimbly th, and my hart doth ake
In such wise, that I know I am but dead,
If I have non ayre : ah, good Lord, my head !
But she was a,y kept in, that she could not start,
Tyll my Lady gan to haue pytie in her hart,
And for womans hohestie, bad that she should ryse ;
Widow Edyth. 85
But ere that tyme I am sure twyse or thryse
It knocked at the doore to have issued out,
But with great payne, she made it walke about.
When that she was vp, she got her foorth apace ;
And er she had walkt xxx. fote, she marked a
chase,
And ekesones another, thrugh the Hal as she yede.
Her nose burst out also, and gan for to bleede.
Into y e colehouse she goth, & there made a draght;
Held her ay thereon, till she had layde her laght.
And whe she was of her nest, one y* hight Browne
Came ronyng in his Dublet w'out cote or Gowne,
Saying : Madame, Madame, by the mans bones,
I feare me, least there be fyre among your coles ;
Howbeit, I saw no lyght but a stynkyng smoke.
O boni Deus ! quod my lady, get thee fast and look :
God sheld, and our lady, that any recheless wight
Bare thyder any Candel this present night
Go loke, go loke, quod she, in haste get the hence.
Browne went him furth, & by the supplemence
He tryed that there was no materyall fyre.
He laughed, and sware by the sole of his Syre,
That one word more he could not speake for shae.
Good night, quod he, at the best is this game.
Soone after, the wydow came forth wel eased :
That Cony, y* cony, quod she, was not wel rested
That I eat at Halywell, but I haue made anoydance
86 Mery Jests of the
The deuill go w* all, & a vengaunce.
I shal mend now, I trust ; & then she went to bed.
Her lodging was chaged there, y* rested her hed .*
But she was in more honour than euer she was
afore,
Notw*st5dig her gown & kyrtle of her gore
Was taken away, and restored to the owner.
The mastiff 2 chaynes day & night she did were,
And w[h]ere gret Estats 3 were chaynes about theyr
necks,
She had dis[d]ayne to were the on her legs.
But whether she be content or displeased,
For the space of three weeks y e chaynes she wered ;
And after, in a day of a gayle deliuery,
She was discharged, being glad and mery.
(1) The widow was now sent to gaol for three weeks.
(2) Massive. (3) i.e. wealthy people or persons of quality.
Widoiv Edyth. 87
xt. nwg
ho\v this wydow Edyth deceyued three yongmen
of the Lorde Legates 1 seruants with her great
lying, crakyng, and boastyng of her great
treasure and Juelles.
To Westminster she walked after, as I trow,
And in the house, w* the pie in y e wyndow,
She was lodged ; but there was no place
Long for to tary, considering her case.
Gon was her money wel neare all ;
She had full sodenly a great fall,
As ye haue hard before ; but yet, nothyng dismaid ? .
On a day to herself thus she sayd :
What, should I here dwell, and no peny in purse ?
If I tary any lenger, I pray that gods curse
Lyght vpon me euen by and by.
Then away she got her, and that hastely,
And ere she had walked a forlong way or two,
She had bethought her where for to go.
Heauen kyng, quod she, full of grace,
Why remembred not I my Lord Legats place ?
(i) Wolsey, who was appointed Legate a latere in 1516.
Mery Jests of the
By God, I must haue there yet some good cheare.
Alone wyll I go without any feare ;
And furst into the porters lodge full right,
And there demaund for such a knight,
That I know well is not there now.
I shal report, in what maner and how
My landes be kept from me by strength.
Such a tale I wyll tell at length,
That some man wyll geue an eare, I trow,
And desire me further for to know.
To the porters lodge she goeth a great pase,
And, as she had deuised, opened the case.
The porter asked why she went so bare :
In sooth, quod she, I take no great care,
How that I go, whyle my busynes last ;
I trust it shalbe mended now in haste.
Than in came a yoman that was called Shyre,
And stood vpright, and warmed hym by the fyre,
Geuyng an eare alway now and than ;
And at the last, he stept foorth lyke a man,
Saying : fayre mistresse, what is your sute %
If ye think it best, come tell me without j
And for the good mind I beare to all wydowes,
I promise you, ere you go out of this house,
Ye shal haue friends, and that without money ;
Wherfore take ye no thought, but be ay mery.
And while they were comonyng of this warke,
Widow Edyth. 89
A Yeman approched y* was called John Clarke :
And he demaunded what the matter was.
Gentleman, quod she, thus standeth the case :
I am a poore wydow left all alone,
And hether I am come to make my mone.
Great wrong I haue, as God well knoweth :
For in all this world I ne oweth
Pound nor Noble that ought to be payd,
But of ten times so much I am delayd.
I pray to God once to send me an hed,
That I may sleep at home in my bed :
For I am wery of this renning about,
And yet alvvay I stand in great doubt,
Least that the bigger wyll eate the Been :
Gentylmen, quod she, ye wot what I meane ;
Therfore help me for your mothers blessyng,
And ye shal haue golde, & golde good sterlyng.
Further, she saw comming to her ward
The thyrd Yeman, called Thomas Ap-richard,
Which anon demanded what y e matter ment
lohn Clarke quickly by the hand him hent,
Led him apart, and tolde in his eare :
Seest thou, quod he, this homely gere ?
By gods sids, she is a wydow, and y 4 of gret sub
stance,
And mary she would, I know by her daliance.
Peace, quod Thomas, haue her to the wyne,
90 Mery Jests of the
And let us drawe cuttes, eyther thyne or myne.
So be it, sayd Clark, and let vs no more talk.
Misteris, sayd he, wil it please you to walk
In to the towne, and drink a pynt of wine ?
And doubt ye not ye shal do wel and fine :
For, and if that ye pretend title of right,
Ye shal haue them y* in your quarrell wil fight,
And nede be ; but it shal not come therto.
Gentlemen, quod she, I am pleased to go
With you at this time, trusting of your ayde,
And one of you three I shal make wel apayde,
Who so ever he be, and God before !
Master Clark, tell me where ye were bore,
And yf ye wylbe a good husband, so god me spede,
And folow my counsell, ye shal haue no neede
To none of your kyn, but ye shalbe able
To lend vnto him Hall, Chamber and stable,
As he shalbe able to lend vnto you.
God thank you, sayd Clark, but here is y e house,
Wherin we wyl drink, and make good chere.
Hostes, quod he, fetch vs bread, ale and beere,
And eke wine, and that of the best,
Said Thomas Aprichard : for, so god my soule rest,
This night I am disposed to laugh it euen out.
Be mery, wydow, and nothing doubt :
For he dwelleth not vnder our king's obeysance,
Shal do you wrong in England, nor in Fraunce.
Widow Edyth. 91
But all Thomas words little she did regard ;
Her eye was euer to John Clark ward,
To whome she sayd the selfe same tide :
Master Clark, quod she, wyll ye to morow ride
As far as Barking ? ye shal haue horse of me,
And eke a noble in your purse, so mot I thee ;
And there nothing else shal ye do,
But se my folks and cattels also ;
And then returne, when ye shal se it good.
Quod John Clarke : I shal, by the rood ;
But where standeth your horse, let me y* know ?
He is not far hence, as I trow.
Quod she : I shal tel you in the morning.
Well then, let us drink in the euening,
Quod John Clark : for here is good drink indeede_,
And good meat also ; I pray you, widow, feede.
The time they pas merely til ten of the clok,
Yea, and I shal not lye, till after the first cok ;
Then they departed, and to their beds went ;
Thomas ap-richard payd for all that was spent.
John Clark in the morning made him yare ;
Thought he : now I wyll yander away fare ;
I lyke this gere euen very well.
He inquered for y e wydow ; but no man can tel,
Where she is become, with walk queane walk.
Jhon Clark then fell into other talk,
And let her go, the feend be her gyde !
92 Mery Jests of the
But here now I can not long abyde,
Considering her pastime in euery place :
For, if I shuld leaue off, it shuld deface
In a maner her booke, which were great pitie,
And ruth also, I swere by Saint Dauye ;
Wherfore some what further of her I wyl wryte,
And without addition truely to indyte
fftoti
xlf.
how this wydow Edyth deceyued the goodman of
the Three Cuppes in Holburne, and one John Cotes,
that ryd with her to Saint Albans to ouer see
her lands and tenements, and how they
were rewarded.
From Westmister to Holburne she flew at one flight,
And at the signe of y Three Cups she did alight,
Trustyng there to season 1 on her pray,
For she had eaten no meat of all that day.
Fyrst she asked for the goodman of the Inne,
And as soone as she saw him, anon she did begin
(i) Seize*
Widow Edyth. 93
To tell him a tale, and neuer a true worde.
Host, quod she, might I be with you at horde
For the space of eyght or els nine dayes 1
And ye shal finde me honest at all assayes :
Ful well I shall pay for all that I take ;
blessed Lady, so mine head doth ake !
1 haue ron so fast that my winde is neare gone.
Mayd, I pray you step to the dore anone,
And looke yf ye may se fowr tall men,
With swords & buklers, as fast as they may ren ;
They have chased me all this long day,
And wyll not be answered for ought y fc I can say.
I see well that she is best at ease,
That hath little or nought in this world to lese.
All my trouble I may wyt a little substance,
Which is my owne, it procureth me greuance.
But, my Hoste, quod she, help me now ;
I shall tell you in what maner and how
The case standeth, and remedy is none,
But and if I be taken, I must needes begon.
What betwixt y e kings seruats & my lord Legats,
I am so asayled y* I wot not whither to go ;
Diuers wold have me, but I am determined this also,
Neuer to be coupled to a Courtier iwis,
While that I Hue, and god be my good Lorde.
Her hoste desired her to sit downe at the borde :
Ye shal, quod he, haue the best help that I can,
94 Mery Jests of the
And, for your sake, I wold I were a single man.
Thervvith he twinkled, and loked ful narrow,
And kissed her twise, & chirked like a Sparow.
In sooth, sayd she, if there were an honest man,
Wise and toward, I may say to you now,
I could finde in my hart to make him a man ;
And if euer I marry, he shalbe such a one.
As to loke for great goods I wyll not in soth :
For I have inow for him and me both,
And if that he be not to great a waster.
But I wyl none that shalbe called master ;
These Roysters of the court no poynt towchon ;
My nebors, when they com to make their mone,
Desiring of reformation of things misused,
Shal not stand caples vn 1 to him that is vsed
To lyg by my side, and to kis me in the night.
Nay, nay, I wil none such, by god almight.
But, hoste, quod she, against the next saterday,
I pray you prouide me, and if that ye may,
Whatsoeuer they cost, two men and two hors :
For I must ride to S. Albons in maner perforce.
I have ben long thence the worse huswife am I
But I trust I haue them there, y* wil loke and espy,
If any fault be, and se it amended.
Mine houses there be merely 2 wel defended.
I meane this : they stand in good reperation ;
(i) Olded. has i. (2) i.e. entirely, altogether.
Widow Edyth. 95
And my house at y e Crosse Keyes is lyke y e facion
Of your house here ; but y* it is much bigger.
God haue mercy on the soule of my good father !
He had great pleasure there to lye.
And is the Crosse Keyes yours, say ye truely ?
Quod her host. Mary, there is a fayre lodgyng
And a goodly backside thervnto belonging.
Yea, quod she, I haue ther housing, & also groud
In y e towne & nere, by worth v. hundred pound,
And if it should be solde to the valew ;
And in Barnet the Inne repayred new,
With the signe of y e Lyon, is mine own right ;
My father bought it of a good Knight
God remit their trespas both twayne !
But I pray Christ graunt we haue no rayne
Against we ride : for the way wylbe foule.
Her host answered, and sware, by his soule :
I shal man you, quod he, and against that tyde
Eke puruey an other, that gladly will ryde
Wayting vpon you, and if that nede bee,
He shal stand in a mans stede, so mot I thee.
Also ye shal hame to your handmayd
Mine owne deare doughter, as my wife sayd ;
Ride when please you, al things shalbe redy ;
I lack no more but a payre of Bootes truely.
Mine host, quod she, care ye not for that ;
Take ye payne, tyl ye come to Barnat,
g6 Mery Jests of the
And there ye shal haue choyce of twelue payre,
Which I distrained for mine house there.
A tenauntry I haue there, in which did dwell
A Sowter y* made Boots for to sell,
And shoes also, full good and strong.
I may say to you he dwelled there so long,
Tyll his haire gan to grow throw his hoode ; 1
And than when the falce knaue vnderstoode,
That I was at Otford, 2 away in Kent,
Besy there prouing my husbands testament,
He wolde haue stolne away by night ;
But yet his purpose came to light.
It hapned so, that a tenaunt of mine
Was late in the euening milking of kine,
And saw mine horeson, when he busked him fore-
ward
With such trash as he had, and then howard
She her hied as fast as she may,
And told her husband : to morow or day,
Twyfeld wyl fleet, and the rent is vnpayd.
Go & distrayne him, in hast she sayd,
In my masters name ; and so he dyd indede.
Boots and shoes I haue inow, so God me spede,
And other trumpery, I cannot tel what ;
(1) i.e. until he fell into bad circumstances. The same expression
occurs in Bansley's Treatyse, circa 1550, and in Deloney's History of
Thomas of Reading, circa 1597.
(2) Three miles from Sevenoaks.
Widow Edyth. 97
But I wyl se when I com to Barnat.
Host, quod she, I pray you let vs wel be horsed :
For I haue been many times trobled
By the way as I haue ridden, for lack of hors.
Her host answered : geue ye no force ;
Ye shal haue such that shal beare ye thorow.
Wel then, quod she, al is good inow ;
At S. Albons I haue horse of mine owne.
The goodman then walked into the towne,
And prouided her a seruant, that was called
John Cotes, a man that neuer fayled
His mayster nor 1 maystresse in tyme of neede.
On the day appointed they ryde forth w* speed,
And at their departyng this wydow borowed
Vpon her Hostesse, which she hartely desired,
A Cap, an Hat, and three kerchieues therto,
A cople of syluer pinnes, a payr of Hokes, and no
mo.
Apace they ryde,, tyll they come to Whetston, 2
And there [she] gan to speake to them anon :
My friendes, quod she, take keepe what I say ;
I haue bethought me, rydyng by the way,
That it is not best for vs this day
To ride through Barnet, and I shal tel you why :
(i) Old ed. has not.
'2) Wheston, in the parish of Friarn-Barnet, between the latter and
East-Barnet.
98 Mery Jests of the
One knaue or other wyll vs there espy ;
I know that I am wayted for in the towne ;
Wherfore, by myne aduise, let vs light downe,
And bayt here, and rest a lytell whyle,
And then ye shall see vs them all begyle :
For, when that we come to Barnet townes ende,
We shall there then, spyte of the feende,
Ryde in the Lane on the backside ;
I know the way, we shal neede no guyde ;
And at the wyndmyl we shal come in owr way
agayne,
And that furthryght fayre and playne,
Tyll that we come to Hatfeld Parkepale,
And there I haue a Tenant that selleth Ale,
And a Farme besides, which yelds me by the yere
Thirteen pound, and when I come, good chere,
Mine horsemeat & mans meat, & cost me nought.
Mine husband, when he died, for y* Farme ought
Fortte Markes ; but, I thank God, now
My Farmer may go both to Cart and Plow
At his owne pleasure, and no man him warne.
Wei then, sayd Cotes, beside this barne
Let vs now lyght, and walk to our Inne ;
This Mayde here shal fyrst beginne :
Lepe downe, quod he, & let me helpe your Misteris.
Nay, sayd the wydow, I wil none of your seruice
At this time ; I shal descend without assistance.
Widow Edyth. 99
The place wher they baited was not far thence,
To the which they romed, & made good chere ;
And when they had payd for bread, ale & beere,
And for other things, I cannot tell what,
The wydow departed from y* place there she sate,
And called for horse. Let us ride now, quod she.
I am well contented, so mote I thee,
Sayd her host ; and Cotes agreed therto.
But hostes, quod she, or euer that we go,
Whan we be on horsback, fyl a pint w* Malmsay,
And, syrs, betwene you, looke that ye wel pay
For euery thing, and that with the most.
I haue done, sayd Cotes, whatsoeuer it cost ;
She is allowed after her owne price.
To horsback than they yede afr a trice,
And ridden forth, tyl they come to Barnat.
Now friends, quod she, I wyl algate
Leaue the towne, as I told you before.
Cotes answered, and a great oth swore,
That he wold not ride out of his way :
Care ye not, quod he, what folks say,
And if that ye be knowne, what for that ?
Put on your head this hood and your hat,
And eke this cloke about you ; & if you doubt
Than, and they gawren round about,
Ye shal not be knowne of any maner wight ;
I pray you let vs ride : for it draweth vnto night
H 2
IOO Mery Jests of the
Tut ! quod she, ye be a mery man ;
Trow ye that my owne folk ne can
Know me, and if I be disgused 1
Yes, I warrant you ye shal heare it cryed,
If we ride through y e towne : for I shall tell thee
Cotes,
I haue them in my Inne [that,] and they se but my
fote,
They wil know me, and what remedy then 1
I know you wyll defend me, lyke prety men,
Vnto your power ; but what is one or tway
In comparison to sixe, if they mete in the way 1
But, seing ye wyll ieopard it, geue me my cloke ;
Ride forth a pace, and not once aside loke.
Whe we com agalst y e Lyon, but hang down your
heads,
And geue me in my hands your beades ;
I wyll occupy both my hart and eke my minde ;
The better assystance I trust we shal finde.
Ye, but, quod her host, how shal I do for my boots
I pray you that eyther I or els Cotes
May ride for them, and gallop after in hast.
I say, quod she, tyll we be this towne past,
We wyl not tarry for ought that may fall.
Worce arayed then you are, ye cannot be at all ;
At S. Albons we shal amend al fawtes,
And I trust arme vs for al assautes.
Widow Edyth. 101
Wei then let vs ride, in Christes holy name,
Yf ye think it best : for I am yet the same
Man that I was yerst for al the myre.
They rode through y e towne, lyke as wylde fyre
Had ben new put in euery horse tayle ;
And when y* they came to y e wyndmyl w* y e sayle,
There Cotis gan for to speake anon :
What way, quod he, shal we ride vpon '?
Misteris, where is your Farme y 1 ye told of before %
Alas ! sayd she, that euer I was bore !
It maketh me sick to think on the foule way,
That we must pas throw ; what shuld I more say ?
A lane there is betwene vs and that ;
The Porter of hel, I dare say, with his bat
Cannot escape, but he must ligge in the myre.
But we wyl doe well. I wot what is our hyre.
To Hatfeld we shal ride this same night,
And to morow, when we haue the day light,
We shal yede to S. Albons by than it is noone,
And my besynes there wil not be don soone.
It wyll cost vs two or three dayes wark.
But, Syrs, quod she, is none of you a dark ?
I must haue a quytance made for my rent
To a knaue, which me sore repent,
That euer he occupyed any ground of mine.
I am sure he hath of Oxen and kyne
An hundred heds, and much stuffe besyde ;
IO2 Mery Jests of the
And y e arrand knaue, whe I com, he wil him hyde,
Makyng him as bare as a byrds tayle ;
And when I speake with hym, he wyl not fayle
To tel me a tale, hinching and pinching,
And in faith, Mysteris, I haue no good thing
To make you there, but it doth me good to se you.
But if I could tell in what wise and how
.To anoyd the heynard, he should not long abyde.
Well, sayd Cotes, what so euer betyde,
This same present night I wyll ryde
To S. Albons. I lyke not this tittell tattel.
Why, quod she, and ye think your horse be able
To beare you through, than do as ye lyst ;
But I pray you that you bring me first
To Hatfelde, and than ye shal haue a token
To my seruant, that dwelleth in my Inne
With the Crosse Keyes, in S. Albones towne ;
And to morow in the morning, vp and downe,
Ye may se mine house and my easment there,
And afterwards trusse together al my gere.
You shal haue in y e parlour next to the strete
A Gofer, standyng at my beds feete,
In which Gofer all my money is.
Three hundred Marks I haue therein, I wys,
In sixe bags ; but loke that ye beare
But two of y e lest w* you : for I haue certain geare
In the tother fower, which shal not as yet
Widow Edyth. 103
Be scene of any body, I let you wyt ;
Ye may say that I trust ye to let you come so nere.
Show Thomas Edwards, my seruant there,
Where I am, and that I sent you thither,
Commandyng him for to delyuer
My keyes to you by such a token,
The which keyes were made to open
The new chest at mine owne beds feete,
And eke my Whuch that is fast ishyt,
Wherin remayneth all my plate.
Trusse it surely ; and yet, beside al that,
I pray ye that ye wyll take so much payne,
If that ye se no lykelyhood of rayne,
As to bring with you vnto this towne
A Kyrtle of chamblet 1 and my tawny gowne.
They ly on the presse in my owne chamber :
My purse also, with my Beades of amber.
Take these things, I pray you, as fast as ye may,
Make a fardle therof, and send them away
By Thomas Edwards to the Lyon in Barnet.
And when ye haue thus don, remember this yet :
Take two fresh Geldings out of my stable,
And leaue yours there, till they be better able
To iornay on the way. Syrs, say I not well ?
Yes, sayd Cotes, if it be as you tell.
At the Checker in Hatfelde she toke her lodgeing,
(i) Camlet.
IO4 - Mery Jests of the
When it was ful late in the euening.
There her Host and Cotes departed her fro,
And also, as fast as their horses can go,
They ryde, tyl they come to S. Albons towne,
And there demaunded vp and downe
For the Crosse Keyes, and found it at last.
Thomas Edwards there they asked for in hast,
And than was none such in all the throufare.
That hore, quod Cotes, euyll mote she fare !
Hath begiled vs, and what remedy now 1
His felow answered : I shal tel thee how';
Peraduenture ther ar more Crosse Keyes then
one;
Aske ye som body, and ye shal know anone.
The hostler told them y* there was yet another ;
I thank you, sayd Cotes, my owne good brother.
There they demaunded, as they dyd before ;
The good man asked where they were bore,
And what they wolde haue that time of night.
Quod Cotes to his felow : let vs downe light ;
This is the house, I wot well inow.
A, f master Edwards, I pray you tel vs, how
That ye Hue here in your mistris absence.
Mistris ! 1 quod he ; Syrs, get you fast hence :
For by our Lady ye be falce knaues both ;
And then he gan to sweare many an oth.
(i) Old ed. has masters.
Widow Edyth. 105
Soft & fayre, sayd Coates, breake not your pa
tience.
We shal tel you, what we ar & whence.
Such a .gentil woman sent vs, & she her selfe sayd,
That this house is her own; her husband for it paid.
A ha ! I wot now, wher abouts y* ye be ;
By coks wounds, she is an arrant hore, quod he.
She sent hether, w'in xii. monthes & little more,
After this same facion, I am sure halfe a score.
But, syrs, I shal tel you, it is wisdom ye take heed.
Cotes in all the hast raght to him his steed,
His Jade, I would say, & his felow his also,
And forth they ryd, w*out words mo,
To Hatfeld agayne by one of the clock,
And at the Checker dore they gan for to knock.
The goodman was yet vp, & the wydow also :
What, quod she, how happeneth that you two
Com agayne so late 1 had you no better chere 1
Hore, hore ! by coks blood, euen here,
Sayd Cotes, and it were not for shame,
I should canvas thee, and make thee lame.
Peace, quod his felow, art y u wel in thy wit 1
Thou wilt mar al ; I pray thee downe sitt,
And hold thy tong, the deuyll pul it out !
The wydow answerd : nay, I put you out of dout,
My seruant is subtil, y* kepeth there my house.
By gods foote, quod Cotes, not a poor louse
io6 Mery Jests of the
Thou art not able to foster in all the towne.
Tut ! sayd she, haue ye brought w l you my gown,
And mine other geare, tell me truely \
Than her host answered soberly,
And told her all how they had sped.
Well, then, quod she, let vs go to bed,
And to morow I wil my selfe thither,
And eke you two shall ride together.
I trow ye shal heare an other maner of tale.
Goodman of the house, borow me a male
Against to morow, I pray you hartely ;
And, mayden, make redy my breakfast early ;
I se wel that my men be halfe in dispayre.
Then to bed they got them wel and fayre.
Cotes and his felow gave in charge
To the goodman of the house, y* ne at large
He should suffer in any wise that night
The wydow to walke, til it be day light :
For we doubt, quod they, y* she wil make a start.
Theyr host bad them be mery in hart,
And take no thought for ought that may fall.
I will se you, quod he, agreed all,
Or euer ye depart this house fro,
If ye wylbe resonable, I can no mo.
Then imediatly they yede to rest ;
The wydow thought she would do her best,
Once yet to begile them both twayne.
Widow Edyth. 107
To her hoste she gan for to complaine ;
With weping eyne she sayd : alas !
Help, host, now ; thus standeth the case.
One of these knaues wold haue me to wyfe,
And in sorow with hym to lead my lyfe.
I haue deuised all the wayes that I may
To scape from them, and to go a way,
But I cannot, and I should dye therfore ;
The blessed Jesu, that of a mayd was bore,
By 1 myne ayde ! as I entend well.
Therwith she wept, and on her knees fell.
Than her host asked what she wolde geue,
On that condition she might have leve
To walk at her wyll, whether 2 she wolde.
Three Grots, quod she, in fayre pence itolde,
And that is all that euer I haue
At this tyme vpon me, so god me saue !
The money he receyued, and then bad her goe,
Whether she wold, but doe no more soe.
At three of the clocke in the dark mornyng,
Away she yed before the dawning,
And where she become then that tyde,
I cannot tell you, in al this world so wyde.
But fare well, troll, syth that she be gon.
Cotes and his felow in the morning, whan
They were vp rysen, and [had] kempt their heaire,
(i) i.e. Be. (2) i.e. whither.
io8 Mery Jests of tJie Widow Edyth.
For the wydow they asked ; & than was there
No body could tel, whither she was yede.
Their host they demanded, and he sayd, by crede,
He wyst not where she was. Let her go,
Quod he then : it is well ye skaped 1 so.
One loked on an other, & wist not what to say ;
And, in conclusion, euen the right way
To London they tooke in all the haste ;
They wolde not once tarry, to breake their faste :
And of these poses 2 1 make an ende,
God saue the Wydow, where [so] 3 euer she wende.
Jpmfe. t)g (Malter
Jmprmtrtr at Hon&on fa
(1) Olded. has shaped.
(2) So ed. 1525. Ed. 1573 has this presses.
(3) So ed. 1525. Ed. 1513 has 'where euer,
(4) Ed. 1525 has Quod Waterius Smyth.
PASQUILS JESTS
mftefc foitj)
MOTHER BUNCH'S MERRIMENTS.
Barabas. Now I remember those old women's words,
Who in my wealth would tell me winter's tales."
Marlowe's Rich Jew of Malta, 1633.
Pasquils Tests, mixed with Mother Bunches Merri
ments. Wheretmto is added a doozen of Guiles.
Pretty and pleasant to drive away the tediousnesse
of a Winters Evening. Imprinted at London for
John Browne, and are to be sold at his shop in Saint
Dunstones Church yard in Fleet Street. 1604. 4,
black letter.
%* This edition, of which there is a very indifferent
copy in the British Museum, contains twenty-four leaves,
including the title, and fifty-two tales, besides the
" doozen of Guiles."
Pasquils iests, with the merriments of Mother Bunch.
Wittie, pleasant, and delightfull. London, Printed
by M. F[lesher], and are to be sold by Francis
Grove, ouer against Saint Sepulchers Church without
Newgate, 1629. 4, black letter, 31 leaves, including
title.
%* According to the Bibliographer 'j Manual, which
is of course known to be of no authority, there were
editions in 1608-9, and in 1627. Of these, at all events,
I have been unable to procure particulars. The edition
of 1629 does not possess the Guiles; an Epistle to the
Reader is substituted.
Pasqvils Iests : with the Merriments of Mother Bunch.
Wittie, pleasant, and delightfull. London : Printed
Introduction. 3
by M. F[lesher], and are to be sold by Andrew
Kembe, dwelling at Saint Margarets hill in South-
wark. 1635. 4) black letter.
%* In this edition, a copy of which is in the Capel
Collection at Cambridge, the Guiles are also missing.
The " Address to the Reader " occupies three pages.
The work consists altogether of 60 pp. unnumbered.
Pasquils Jests, with the Merriments of Mother Bunch.
Wittie, pleasant, and delightful. London, Printed
by M. F[lesher], n. d. [circa 1635]. 4, black letter.
* # * This impression contains seventy-six stories, but
has not the Guiles. There is, however, the Epistle to
the Reader.
Pasqvils Jests : with the Merriments of Mother Bunch.
Wittie, pleasant, and delightfull. London, Printed
by J[ames] F[lesher ?], and are to be sold by William
Gilbertson at the signe of the Bible in Giltspur-street,
n. d. [circa 1650]. 4, black letter.
%* This edition contains seventy-eight tales, and
consists altogether of thirty-one leaves. It has not the
Guiles; but there is an Epistle to the Reader, similar
to that in the preceding editions, accompanied by the
same verses. On the reverse of the title is the fol
lowing injunction within a woodcut border :
" Reade the Epistle
or reade no
thing."
4 Introduction.
This is also found in the editions printed by M. F. in
1629, in 1635, and without date.
Pasquils lests, with the Merriments of Mother Bunch.
Witty, Pleasant, and delightfull. London, Printed
by J[ames] F[lesher?], and are to be sold by F. Coles,
T. Vere, and J. Wright. 1669. 4 , black letter,
3 1 leaves, including title and preface.
*^* This edition almost exactly corresponds to those
of 1629 and 1635.
The present republication of Pasquils Jests is from
a transcript of the first edition, 1604, 4, which I owe
to the kindness of J. O. H alii well, Esq. who, on my
application to him, at once in the most obliging manner
placed it at my disposal. Aware, however, how liable
the most careful copyists are to error, I have compared
this reprint, in its progress through the press, word for
word with the original ; and I have added the " Epistle
to the Reader," only found in the later impressions.
This address seemed worth preserving on account of its
curious allusions, if not for the sake of the ludicrously
extravagant vein in which it is written. Pasquils Jests
may perhaps be added to the list of the publications
of Nicholas Breton ; but there is no certainty on this
subject, and the work has always been regarded as
anonymous. It was at first my intention to have
incorporated the twenty-six additional stories, which
occur in the edition printed for W. Gilbertson, a copy
of which is in the British Museum ; but it seemed, on
the whole, better to present the book to the reader in
Introduction. 5
its genuine state, merely supplementing the prefatory
address. The additions, which were subsequently
made, were very probably not by the original editor,
and were merely anecdotes introduced from other col
lections to impart an air of novelty to the publication
on its reappearance. It is a curious circumstance,
that the GULLES were omitted in all but the very early
impressions.
Mother Bunch, under whose name these humorous
tales were ushered into the world, appears to have
been a sort of second ELTNOUR HUMMING, or LONG
MEG OF WESTMINSTER ; and, if we may believe all
that we are told, was a still more formidable virago
than the two latter. It is probable enough that the
lady in question was some well known ale-wife of the
time, whose facetious and popular character suggested
to the compiler of Pasquils Jests the notion of assisting
the sale of his work by introducing her on the title-
page under what may have been her common nick
name. Her celebrity was, doubtless, extreme, and
subsequent book-makers did not scruple to trade upon
it. Hence we have pseudo-Bunchiana, to wit : " Mother
Bunch's Golden Fortune-Teller," " Mother Bunch's
Closet Newly Broken Open," and the like, the chrono
logy of which publications is rather dubious, from the
persistent absence of dates.
The bibliography of Jest-books can seldom be com
plete or satisfactory, as books of this class are peculiarly
difficult of access, and as unknown and undescribed
editions present themselves at intervals. Two editions
3- I
6 Introduction.
only are in the British Museum, that of 1604 and the
one printed for W. Gilbertson ; and both are recent
acquisitions. The Bodleian possesses the impressions
of 1629 and 1669.
The reader will easily recognise in the following pages
stories which have already occurred in a slightly varied
form, in some cases with the change only of names and
places, in A C. Mery Talys, Mery Tales &* Quick
Answeres? &c. ; but this class of literature has never
done anything but repeat itself over and over again
since the days of Hierocles, and in the whole circle of
modern jest-books there is not probably a single anec
dote, or a single witticism which has the slenderest pre
tension to originality. A good deal of the Sheridaniana
is merely a reproduction of old material for the nonce.
" Pasquil's Jests " was one of the revivals of our early
literature projected, but eventually abandoned, by the
Shakespeare Society. In some of the original editions
there is a Table of Contents.
(i) It has not been thought necessary to indicate, in each instance,
where a story is common to other collections forming part of the present
series of old English jest-books, as the reader is now enabled to compare
the various versions in which the same anecdote has appeared from time
to time.
Pasquils Jests, &c. 7
2To tije JWmfe Rafter.
W$. tecn'ptfon of ^asgtu'l anfc Jttotfjer ifluncj.
MOST pleasant Reader, "my onely ayme in writing this
Booke, is but to make thee laugh, and to shorten the
tediousnesse of a long Winters Evening. Know then,
that noble Pasquil, the Author of these Jests, was in
his time the onely merry companion, who for Wit,
Mirth, Eloquence, and Joviality, was the merriest
Grigg (as saith the Story) that I ever read of. Now
for Mother Bunch? the onely dainty, wel favored, well
proportioned, sweet coomplexioned, and most delightful
Hostesse of England, she was squared into inches,
being in height twenty thousand and a halfe, wanting
a fingers bredth jump, in bredth eleven thousand and
two inches and a nayles bredth just ; she spent most
of her time in telling of tales, and when she laughed,
she was heard from Algate to the Monuments at West
minster, and all Southwarke stood in amazement, the
(i) In the play of The Weakest Goeth to the Wall, 1600, one of the
dramatis persona is BAKNABY BUNCH the Botcher, who alleges that he
is the son of the redoubted lady of the same name, the matured fruits
of whose prodigious faculty as a storyteller were given to the warld in
1604. In Act I. sc. 2 of The Weakest Goeth to the Wall, we are told by
Master Bunch himself, who is of course the best authority on such a
point, that he had been originally in the same line as Mrs. B. viz. an
ale-draper, somewhere near Thames Street ; but adverse circumstances,
it seems, compelled honest Barnaby to change his views in life, and to
settle down into a repairer of gentlemen's apparel, or, more briefly
speaking, a Botcher.
112
8 Pasquils Jests and
LyVns in the Tower, 1 and the Bulls and Beares of
Parish-Garden roar'd (with terrour of her laughter)
lowder then the great roaring Megge. Shee was once
wruing with wind in her belly, and with one blast of
her kaile, she blew downe Charing- Crosse, with Pauls
aspiiring steeple ; she danced a Galliard on towerhill,
and! all the great Ordnance leapt for joy, and London
sho/oke as it had been an earthquake ; her quotidian
daily diet was three fat oxen, 2 two boyled and one
sted, with the Intralls : twenty three fat Muttons
and a quarter, with the Heads and Gethers parboyl'd :
fifteen dozen of fat Capons, with the wings and leggs
of seven dozen of yong Chikens, and to close up her
stomack, ninety and nine dozen of Larks wel roasted,
and forty seven dozen of two penny wheaten bread,
and to every loafe shee drank a tun of her strongest
May, Ale, 3 with Nutmeg and Sugar : yet shee never
(1) In the Guls Horn Book, 1609, by T. Decker, the Monuments at
Westminster and the L ions in the Tower are also enumerated among
the chief attractions of the metropolis at this period.
(2) The appetite of Mother Bunch far exceeded that of Gluttony in the
Vision of the Seven Deadly Sins, introduced into Marlowe' sFaustus :
"Glut I am Gluttony. My parents are all dead and the
devil a penny they have left me, but a bare pension, and that is thirty
meales a day and ten bevers, a small trifle to suffice nature."
Her ladyship's digestive powers must have surpassed those of the
"Great Eater of Kent," whom Taylor the Water Poet has immortalized
in a tract printed in 1630.
(3) [Bar. Bunch]. O, for one pot of Mother Bunche's ale, my own
mother's ale, to wash my throat this misty morning! It would clear my
sight, comfort my heart, and stuff my veins, that I should not smell the
savour of these stockings." The Weakest Goeth to the Wall, Act I.
scene 2.
Mother Bunches Men intents. 9
did rise from the table (as saith the story) but with a
good appetite. For her signe shee perk't up her red
nose, that ushered her face, red as Skarlet, which when
shee stood upright, looked over the City like a blazing
star ; and when it appeared, Bakers made hast, and
Cookes came running, with whole Ovens ful of Pies,
to bake at the sweltering heat which proceeeded from
her jolly red nose. A most pretious and rich nose it
was, set with Rubies of all sorts, and hung in clusters
like your French Grapes, which being well prest,
yeelded from the abundant goodnesse five tun of well
clarified liquor. Shee dwelt (as saith the Auther) in
Nash, in his Pierce Penilesse his Supplication to the Deuill, 1592, has
the ensuing passage :" The next obiect that encounters my eyes, Is
some such obscure vpstart gallants, as, without desert or seruice, are
raised from the plough to be checkmate with princes ; and these I can
no better compare than to creatures that are bred sine coitu, as crickets
in chimnyes ; to which I resemble poore scullians, that, from turning
spit in the chimney corner, are on the sodayne hoysed vp, from the
kitchen into the wayting chamber, or made barons of the beanes, and
marquesses of the mary-boanes; some by corrupt water, as gnats, to
which we may liken brewers, that, by retayling filthie Thames water,
come in few yeres to be worth fortie or fiftie thousand pound ; others, by
dead wine, as little flying worms ; and so the vintners in like case ; others
by slime, as frogs, which may be alluded to Mother Bunches slymie ak,
that hath made her, and some other of her fil pot familie so wealthie "
Coeval with Mother Bunch, and a rival dealer in strong ale, was one
MOTHER WATKYN, whose beverage appears to have enjoyed a celebrity
almost equal to that of her contemporary. See Chappell's Popular
Music of the Olden Time, p. 136-7, and An Elizabethan Garland, 1856,
p. 30. " Watkins ale" was formerly a favourite dance-tune. It is men
tioned by Chettle in Kind Harts Dreme (1592), and by other writers of
the Elizabethan era. The virtues of Mother Watkin's ale were com
memorated in a ballad of the time (still extant) entitled :
" A ditty delightful of Mother Watkin's ale,
A warning well weighed, though counted a tale."
io Pasquils Jests and
Cornehill (neere the Exchange) and sold strong Ale,
whose health to this day all joviall drunkards never do
forget ; the many vertues of her Ale [it] is impossible
for one penne to write. The Dutchmen were her best
customers for a long time, untill the report of her Ale
had spread it all England over. Young men and
maides frequented her house, more than either Pymlico
or the now flourishing Totenan [sic] court.
She raised the spirits of her spiggot to such a height,
that Maids grew proud, and many proved with childe
after it, and being asked who got the childe, they
answered, they knew not, onely they thought Mother
Bunches Ale, and another thing had done the deed ;
but whosoever was the father, Mother Bunches Ale had
all the blame.
Shee was an excellent companion, and sociable ; she
was very pleasant and witty, and would tell a tale, let
a ****, drink her draught, scratch her ****, pay her
groat as well as any Chymist of Ale whatsoever. From
this noble Mother Bunch proceeded all our great
greasie Tapsters, and fat swelling Ale wives, whose
faces are blowne as bigge as the froth of their bottle-
Ale, and their complexion imitating the out side of a
Cookes greasie dripping-pan, and you could hardly
goe round about her in a Summer after-noone. Mother
Bunch lived an hundreth, seventy and five yeares, two
dayes and a quarter, and halfe a minute, and died in
the prime of her charity : for, had she lived but two
rnoneths longer, she had knit Pauls a night-cap, and
bought London-bridge a payre of Pantoffles to keepe
Mother Bunches Merriments. i I
his feet out of the cold swelling water. But shee died,
and left behind her these pleasant tales following, which
she used to tell those nimble spirits, which drank deepe
of her Ale, and as she changed their money, as was
generally related.
" These l harmlesse lines that have no ill intent,
I hope shall passe in mirth as they were meant.
What I intend, is but to make you sport,
By telling truth to please the better sort :
And what it is, that I have aym'd at now,
The Wise may judge, for Fooles I care not how."
(i) These verses are here printed on the verso of the last page of the
Epistle to the Reader, just as they occur in Gilbertson's ed. and in that
printed by M. Flesher.
$a0qutts Jests atrtf Jffliot^er Buncos
tale of a Scnuener of Honfcon anfc a
T T fell out upon a Satterday, being market day,
that a Countrie fellow of the better sort of hus-
bandrie, came to London to lay out a little money
upo some necessary trinkets : and hauing dis
patched his businesse, after hee had pretily refreshed
his spirits with a pot of the best that the Alehouse
could afford him, made homewards very merily ; but
by the way, casting his eye, by chance, upon a kind
of Writers, that would haue bin a Scriveners shop,
and seeing the master of the poore house, or the
poore master of the house, sitting alone in a rugge
gowne, wrapping in his armes, to auoyd the bitter-
nesse of the weather, minding to make himselfe a
little sport, fell thus to salute the poore Pen-man :
I pray you, master, what might you sel in your
shop, that you haue so many ding-dogs hang at
your doore ! Why, my friend, quoth the Obliga
tion-maker, I sell nothing but Logger-heads. By
14 Pasquils Jests and
my fay, master, quoth the Country man, you haue
made a faire market with them, for you haue left
but one in your shop, that I see : and so laughing,
went his way, leauing much good sport to them
that heard him.
& prettg tale of a poore man anfc a Hafoger.
A POORE man hauing bin much injured by an
unkinde neighbour, who by the power of his
purse would haue put him by the right of his land,
went to a Lawyer dwelling not farre off, to whom
hauing deliuered his griefe,he gaue little for his coun-
sell, but a great many thaks, and countrie curtsies,
with God saue his life, and so forth; entreating
him to let him know when he should againe wait
upon him for his further advice. Who answered
him somewhat short : When you will, neighbour,
when you will. The poore man, upon this when
you will, caine oftentimes afterward to him, but
found no will in him to speake with him. Where
upon the poore man telling his wife of his ill hap,
was aduised by her to take one of his best lambes,
and present it unto him, and then he should see
what would follow : her counsell he followed,
tooke his lambe, and went to the Lawyer : to
whose gate he was no sooner come, but the
Mother Bunches Merriments. 1 5
Lawyer hearing the bleating of his lamb, opening
his window, called him up, and within two words
told him he understood his case, and all should
bee well : where with he'e departed, meeting with
his wife going to the market, After they had
beene at the Alehouse, and taken a pot or two,
the poore man got him up into the market place,
and there hauing his throat wel cleared, made this
mad out-crie : All ye that haue any matters to trie
in law, get ye euerie one a fat lambe, and carry to
your Lawyer ; for one word of a lambes mouth will
bee better understood of the Lawyer, and doe more
good, then twentie of your owne. Probatum.
<f a CDitfyn of Hontum tjmt rt& out of tfte
(JDt'tg fibe mgles.
A CITIZEN riding to Edmonton had his man fol
lowing him on foote, who came so neere that
the horse strake him a great blowe on the thigh. The
fellow, thinking to be reuenged, tooke up a great
stone to throw at the horse, and hit his master on
the raynes of the backe. Within a while his master
looked backe, and seeing his man come halting so
farre behind, chid him. Sir, your horse hath giuen
me such a blow, quoth his man, on the thigh, that
I can go no faster. Truely, sayd his master, the
1 6 Pasquils Jests and
horse is a great kicker, for likewise with his heele
right now, hee gaue me a great stroke on the
reynes of my backe : when it was his man that
threw the stone.
& prettg tale of a (Eomplapnant t&at crgctr to a
for ^justice, pet refused it to&en ft foas
offerer Jjfat.
E Dromo, a certayne Tiler, sitting upon the
ridge of a house, laying on certayne roofe tiles,
looking back, and reaching somewhat too farre for
a little morter that lay by him, fell backeward, and
by good hap fell upon a man that was sitting under
the house, whom with his fall he bruised to death,
but thereby saued his owne life. Not many dayes
after, a sonne of the dead mans caused this man
to bee apprehended for murther, and hauing him
before the Judge, cried unto him for Justice : who
asking of the prisoner what he could say for him-
selfe, receiued this answer : Truly, sir, I neuer
thought the man any hurt, neither did I thinke to
fall ; but since it was my hap to hit upon him to
saue my life, if it please your Lordship, I am con
tented that hee shall haue justice ; for myselfe, I
had no malice to his father, though I see he hath
a great deale to me ; but let him do his worst, I
care not, I aske no fauour : let him goe up to the
Mother Bunches Merriments. 1 7
top of the house where I sate, and I will sit where
his father sate ; let him fall from the place as cun
ningly as hee can, and fall upon me to saue his
life, I will be contented. The Judge, seeing the
mans Innocency in intent of any euill to the man
whome hee had slayne, willed the Complaynant to
take this course for his contentment ; which hee
refusing was dismissed the Court, and the Prisoner
thus by his wit released.
f^ofo a JWarcftant lost Jfs purse bctfoeen
an& Honbon.
A MARCHANT that trauailed betweene Ware
and London, lost his budget, wherein was
a hudred pound, who caused to proclayme in all
villages and market townes, that who so had found
the same, and would restore it againe, should haue
twenty pounds for his paynes. An honest hus
bandman that chaunced to finde it, brought it to
the Baylife of Ware, and required his twenty pounds
for his paynes, when he deliuered it. When the
couetous Marchant understood this, and that he
must needes pay twenty pound for the finding of
it, he sayd there was an hundred and twenty pound
in the budget, and so would haue had his owne
money and twenty pound ouer. So long they
1 8 Pasquils Jests and
stroue, that the matter was brought before a
Justice. When the Justice understood by the
Baylife that the cry was made for a budget with
an hundred pound in it, he demaunded where it
was ? Heere (quoth the Baylife), and gaue it him.
Is it just an hundred pound (quoth the Justice) ?
Yes (quoth the Baylife). Hold (quoth the Justice
to him that found the budget), take thou this money
to thy use, and if thou happen to find a budget
with a hundred and twenty pound, bring it to this
honest Marchant man. It is mine, I lost no more
but' a hundreth pound (quoth the Marchant). You
speake now too late {quoth the Justice), for your
couetousnesse hath beguiled your selfe.
gt 3Jest, snbt'ng pour rebmnce, foortf) tjj*
laughing at
T N a City, I find not where, met a company, I know
not who, and about I know not what : but after
that they had layd their heads together to conclude
upon a thing of nothing, as the use is of such kind
of people, fearing to surfet of fasting, they got them
to dinner, where, when their bellies were full of
wine, their braynes set their tongues to worke about
wonders : and hauing made a great noyse to little
purpose, they fell to questioning among themselues,
what was the rarest thing in the world. One he
Mother Bunches Merriments. 1 9
sayd, the Phenix, because there was but one, and
she killed herselfe, and liued againe of her owne
ashes. Another sayd, a Diamond, because it would
write in glasse. Another sayd, a Parrat, because it
would speak like a man. Another sayd, a true
friend, [because] the world was so full of falshood.
Another said, Gold, for that it wrought wonders in
y e world. And another said, Loue, because it robbed
wise men of their wits. But while they did thus
differ in their opinions, one plaine, Asse-headed
foole, being willing to say his mind, upon a sudden
falling into a laughing, told them they were all
wide : for he knew a rarer thing then all they :
which they desiring to know, hee told them it was
a sweet ******** Whereat euery one holding
themselues by the nose, left off their talke, and
laughing at the foole, rose from the table.
cunnfnglg a fcnabe fcebfetto to get moneg ftp
Jis fot't for ftfmselfe anfc 6fe tjjree companions.
HPHREE loytring companions that fell in company
together, domineerd so long, that all their
money was consumed and gone. So being penny-
lesse, sayd one of them : By my fayth, we are now in
a faire taking : for we may, if we will, seeke our
dinner with Duke Humphrey. Nay, zounds (quoth
2O Pasquils Jests and
the second), If I come where any presse of people
be, I can get money enough for us all. Sblood,
and I (quoth the third) can lightly assemble people.
They were at that time not passing two miles from
a small towne in Barkshire where, when they carne,
there was a new Pillory set up, where the third of
them steps to the Baylife, and desires him to haue
the mayden-head of their new pillory. The Bayliffe
being a butcher was halfe amazed, and standing
musing, at last he asked counsel of his neighbours,
and they bade him set up the knaue and spare not.
So up he went, and when he was up, he looked
about and saw his two fellowes busie in the holes
of the Butchers aprons, where they put all their
money. To it, to it (quoth he), apace. The
people laughed hartily to see him stand there.
At last, when he saw that his fellowes had sped
their matters, and were going away, he said to the
BaylifFe : Turne the pillory about, and now I will
come downe. So he, laughing hartily, did. And
when he was come downe, the Bayliffe sayd : Now
by my fayth thou art a good fellow, and because
thou hast made us some sport, I will giue thee a
Tester to drinke : and so, thinking to take some
money out of the hole of his apron, hee found
there neuer a penny. Cockes armes (quoth the
bayliffe), my money is picked out of my apron :
Mother Bunches Merriments. 2 1
and then the rest of the butchers beside swore
they had lost theirs also. I hope (quoth the
fellow), you do not think that I haue it. No, by
my troth (quoth the Bayliffe), I know well enough
thou hast it not, for thou wert on the Pillory all the
while. Why then, no harme, no force (quoth the
fellow), and so went his wayes.
f^ofo one at Kingston farmefc Jtmselfe fceafc, to
trye fofiat fits foife fooulfc fcoe.
TN Kingston dwelt one Rawlins, newly maried,
which to prooue what his wife would doe, fayned
himselfe dead, while she was in the backside
washing of her clothes, and layd himselfe all along
the floore. Whereupon his wife comming suddenly
in, thought that he had bin dead indeed : but
hauing laboured hard all the day, and being sore
an hungred, shee stood musing with her selfe,
whether it were best to lament his death, or to
dine first : which motion of eating liked her best :
whereupon shee cut two or three collops of salt
Bacon, and broyled them on the coales, and ate
them up : and being very hungry, shee forgot to
drinke, but the saltnesse of the meat at last made
her throat so harsh that shee tooke a pot and went
to draw some drinke : but one of her neighbours
3- K
22 Pasquils Jests and
comming suddenly in, made her set down her pot,
and as if her husband had but new falne downe,
shee began to lament so heauily, and with such a
noyse, that all the neighbours came running in,
where they found her most pitifully bewayling the
sudden death of her husband. Whereupon they
began to comfort her, and told her, she must be
content, for there was now no remedie. Alas ! sayd
she, Oh, my sweet husband ! what shall I doe ? At
which words, her husband lift up his head, and
sayd : Full ill, my sweet wife, except you goe quickly
and drinke : for the salt Bacon I am sure hath
almost choked you.
a fcnafris!) ansfoere of an unfjappg country
tonc& to a fooltsfi gong fdlofo.
A CERTAYNE idle headed young man, that
loued to heare himselfe speake, though it were
of matter to little purpose, riding upon a fayre day
to a market towne, ouertooke by chance, among
other creatures of her own kind, an indifferent well
fauored and well growne countrey wench, whom
singling by her selfe as much as he could, he fel to
commune with, in an odde maner of loue-making,
when beginning very low, marking her new shod
feete, hanging ouer her .dossers, beganne with this
Mother Bunches Merriments. 23
commendation : Truly, sister, you haue a very fine
foot there. Yea, sir (quoth y e wench), that I haue ;
a couple. The yong man thinking to shew some
little wit, in a scoffe replyed with this speech :
But are they twinnes, sister 1 were they both borne
at one time ? No, indeed, sir (quoth the wench) ;
there hath beene a man borne betwixt them. Where
with her neighbours that rode by her, falling into a
laughing, made him find that she was a married
wife : which being contrary to his expectation,
being much troubled with her answere, with lacke
of wit to reply, galloped away with a flea in his
eare.
& flofotmg ansfoere to a flofott'ng question.
A POORE man, upon a time comming into a
market with a very leane horse, setting him
neere unto a company of fat and fayre Geldings
to be sold, was asked of a scoffing companion, how
he sold his horse by the ell ; which the poore man
taking something discontentedly, and yet not will
ing to quarrel with him, made him an answere fit
for his question, when holding up his horses taile :
I pray you, sir (quoth he), come into the shop
and you shall see.
K 2
24 Pasquils Jests and
& foaming for tale-tellers.
T READ in the records of a certayne schoole,
where faultes were reckoned up all the week,
to be payd upon the Satterday, that an unhappy
boy, willing to haue one of his fellowes taste of such
schoole-butter as hee had often broke his fast with,
one morning came to his master with this speech :
Truly, sir, you haue often beaten me for looking off
from my booke, and such a one scapeth without
rebuke. Yea ! (quoth he) call him to me. Who no
sooner came to him, but [hee] heard him his lesson.
Which perfectly repeated : How now, Sirra (quoth
he to his accuser), how like you this geare 1
How did he looke from his booke, and say his
lesson so well 1 Let me heare you ; who was
imperfect in many poynts. Well, sir (quoth hee),
how doe you know that your fellow did not looke
upon his booke? Marry, sir (quoth he), I did
watch him all the while. Then, sir (quoth his
fellow), I beseech you aske him who looked on
his booke while he watched mee. Whereat his
master smiling, tooke the accuser, and openly in
the schoole whipped him well, first for his lesson,
and after for his accusation.
Mother Bunches Merriments. 25
<f a foorsfjfpfull gentleman m Hmcolnsjn're
anti fit's man.
A CERTAYNE gentleman in Lincolnshire, being
also a Justice of Peace, had an olde servant
many yeres, called Adam Milford, who upon a time
came unto his master, and desired him, in regard he
had bene his servant so many yeeres, hee would
now giue him something to helpe him in his old age.
Thou sayest true (quoth his master), and I will tell
thee what I will doe. Now shortly I am to ride up
to London ; if thou wilt pay my costs and charges
by the way, I will giue thee shortly such a thing as
shall be worth to thee an hundred pound. I am
content (quoth Adam) ; and so payd for all their
reckoning by the way. So being come to London,
he put his master in mind of his former promise
that he had made to him. What, did I promise
thee anything 1 I (quoth Adam), y* you did : for
you said you would giue mee that that should bee
worth to me a hundred pound, for paying your
charges to London. Let me see your writing
(quoth his master). I haue none (quoth Adam).
Then thou art like to haue nothing (quoth his
master) ; and learne this of mee, that when thou
makest a bargayne with any man, looke thou take
26 Pasquils Jests and
a writing, and beware how thou makest a writing
to any man. This hath auayled mee an hundred
pounds in my dayes. When Adanf saw there was
no remedy, he was content ; but when they should
depart, Adam stayed behind his master to reckon
with his hostis ; and on his masters scarlet cloake
borrowed so much money as came to all their
charges that hee had layd out by the way. His
master had not ridden past two myles, but it began
to rayne apace ; wherefore he called for his cloake.
His other men made answere, that Adam was
behind, and had it with him. So they shrowded
them under a tree till Adam came. When he
came, his master sayd all angerly : Thou knaue,
come give me my cloake ; hast thou not serued
me well, to let me be thus wet 1 Truely, sir (quoth
Adam), I haue layd it to pawne for all your charges
by the way. Why, knaue, quoth he, didst thou
not promise to beare my charges to London 1 Did
I 1 ? quoth Adam. I, quoth his master, that thou
didst. Lets see, shew me your writing of it,
quoth Adam. Whereupon his master, perceiuing
he was ouerreacht by his man, was fayne to send
for his cloake againe, and pay the money.
Mother Bunches Merriments. 27
maltoe (oomes,fojn fris foffe foas fcrofonefc,
souojjt 6er against t&e stream*.
/^OOMES of Stapforth, hearing that his wife was
drowned cornming from market, went with
certayne of his friends to see if they could find her
in the riuer. He, contrary to all the rest, sought
his wife against the streame ; which they percey-
uing, sayd he lookt the wrong way. And why so ?
(quoth he.) Because (quoth they) you should looke
downe the streame, and not against it. Nay,
zounds (quoth hee), I shall neuer find her that
way : for shee did all things so contrary in her
life time, that now she is dead, I am sure she will
goe against the streame.
<f t&e jparmer in Norfolk, ana fit's ^fifstcfon.
A CERTAYNE rich Farmer, hauing layne long
sicke in Norfolke, at last sent for a Phisicion
from the next market towne, who, when he came,
hee felt his pulses, and viewed his water, and then
told him 1 that he could by no meanes nor phisike
escape, the disease had so much power in his
body ; and so went his way. Within a while after,
by God's good helpe who is the onely giuer of all
(i) Orig. has them.
28 Pasquils Jests and
health, the man escaped, and was well againe ; and,
walking abroad, being still very weake and feeble,
hee met with his Phisicion who, being very sore
affrayd to see him, asked him if he were not such
a Farmer. Yes, truly (quoth he), I am. Art thou
aliue or dead ? (quoth hee) Dead(quoth he) I am,
and, because I haue experiece of many things,
God hath sent mee to take up all Phisicions I
can get ; which made the Phisicion to looke as
pale as ashes for feare. Nay, feare not (quoth the
Farmer) ; though I named all Phisicions, yet I meant
thee for none : for I am sure a veryer Dunce Hues
not this day then thou art ; and then I should bee
a foole to take thee for one, that art not fit to come
to any man, but to the dogges with thy phisike.
And so he left him. But the Phisicion neuer left
quaking, till hee was out of the sight of him.
f^ofo nurrg &u&ufo of Jfflantfjestev sntufc an
Fsurer.
TV/T ERRY ANDREW of Manchester who is well
knowne, meeting with three or foure of his
companions on a Sunday, presently hee bade them
home to dinner, yet hee neyther had meate nor
money in his house. Well, but to his shifts he
goeth, and went into an olde Usurers kitchin, where
Mother Bunches Merriments. 29
he was very familiar, and priuily, under his gowne,
he brought away the pot of meat that was sodden
for the old misers dinner. When he came home,
hee put out the meat, and made his boy secure the
pot, and sent him with it to the Usurer, to borrow
two groats on it, and bade the boy take a bill of
his hand : which the boy did, and with the money
bought beere and bread for their dinner. When the
Usurer should goe to dinner, his meat was gone ;
vrnerefore he all to beat his mayd, calling her
whoore. She sayd there came nobody but Andrew
there all that day. Then they asked him ; and
he sayd, hee had none ; but at last they sayd, that
he and no body else had the pot. By my fayth
(quoth Andrew), I borrowed such a pot on a time,
but I sent it home agayne ; and so called his wit-
nesse, and sayd: It is perilous to deal with men
now adayes without writing ; they would lay theft
to my charge, if I had not his owne hand to shew ;
and so he shewes the Usurers bill, whereat the
Usurer storms, and all the rest fell a laughing.
Jee seruefc another tljat fooulfc fiaue put jn'm
fcofone m jus mwg sagtncts.
A NDREW once was at supper with his friends,
and among the company there was one that
30 Pasquils Jests and
spited at his iests and merry conceits. After supper
they fell to reasoning among themselues which was
the most reuerent part of mans body. One said,
the eye ; another, the nose ; a third sayd, the leg :
but Andrew, knowing that he that spited him
would name the contrary, sayd, the mouth was most
reuerent of all. Nay (quoth the other), the part
that we sit on is the most reuerent; and because
they all maruayled why he should say so, he made
this reason, that he was most honorable that
was first set, and the part that he named was first
set. Which saying contented them all, and grieued
Andrew. The next day they all met againe, and
Andrew, comming last, found them sitting all to
gether ; and when he had saluted them all but his
enemy, hee turned his back-side to him, and let a
great **** in his face. At which the fellow being
mightily angry, sayd : Walk, knaue, with a mischiefe,
where hast thou bin brought up ? Why, disdaynest
thou 1 quoth Andrew. If I had saluted thee with
my mouth, thou wouldest haue saluted mee againe,
and now, when I salute thee with that part that
by thy owne saying is most honourable, thou
callest me knaue. Then the company fell a laugh
ing at this jest hartily.
Mother Bunches Merriments. 3 1
tale of t&e 2Slacfce Jtfloore.
T N the yere when fresh wits began to season them-
selues to abide weathers, it fel out, it is no matter
where, that a certayne yong fellow, next neighbour
to a foole, hauing more money in his purse then
he knew well how to use, and yet willing to ad-
ueture a little to gaine more, light into the ac
quaintance of a notable crafty companion who,
finding his humour was not to learne how to fit it,
and noting his foolish kind of fleering when he
came among the feminine gender, and how farre he
would be in loue with mayd Marian upon the first
measure of a Morris daunce, came one day to him
very closely, and getting him to beare him company
alone into the fields, there very soberly, in the way
of much affection (as he seemed to make shew of),
told him, that it grieued him to see so proper a
man spend his time so, without a companion fit
for his person, meaning a wife, of which, if an
owle would not serue his turne, it had bin pity any
better creature should haue bin bestowed upon
him. Yet, forsooth, in great secret he told him,
and looked about as though somebody had heard
him, that if he would be ruled by him, he would
helpe him to such a wife as all the world should
32 Pasquils Jests and
not find a better for his purpose : for she should
be fayre, and wealthy, and wise, and what more
I know not ; but she should be such a one as he
should haue cause to giue him thanks for. The
young greene Goose, somewhat shamefast, and yet
foolish enough to harken to an idle tale, answered
him, that though hee was not determined to marry,
yet, if he liked her, and she him, hee did not know
what would come to passe ; but hee would bestow
a quart of wine to haue a sight of her. Not to make
a long tale of a little or nothing, without many
hummes or haes, it was agreed betwixt them that
a day should be set downe when the meeting
should be. The place was appoynted, the parties
were acquainted, the plot was layd, and the matter
performed. But while the goose was gaping for
one bayt, he was catcht with another. For the
cunning rascall, intending to make himselfe merry
with his money, told him he must be finely appar-
relled, and bestow a supper or two, in shew of a
franke minde ; but when he had her once, then
let him do as he list. The foole, already in a net*
began to tangle himselfe brauely, made himself new
apparel according to the fashion, gaue money to
bestow upon a supper or two, where met him a
fine boy, drest woman-like, to whom he made such
loue that a Dog would not abide to beare it. The
Mother Bunches Merriments. 3 3
counterfeit young mistris with kind words and
knauish wiles, rinding the length of his foot, gate
many tokens of his loue, as Gloues, Skarfes, and
such like, besides a Ring or two, and a bracelet ;
all which he did bestow so louingly, that he must
needes be used like himselfe, and so he was : for
nothing was refused that came so gently to passe.
But after many kind meetings, in the end it was
agreed betwixt them that, in a friends house of
his, the matter should be made up; which, being
little better then a bawdy house, it serued the turn
as well as could be. There they met, and being
both agreed, upon assurance of eche others loue,
to bed they should go that night, and be maried
shortly after. Wei, that night there lacked no good
cheere, nor wine to make the heart merry ; which,
being taken in full cups, wrought the matter as
they would haue it ; for after they had well supped
and sate awhile by a good fire, the good Asse fell
asleepe ; in which, being layd in his bed, instead of
the fayre boy, they had layd a blacke Moore wench
by him, with whom I know not how he handled the
matter; but in the morning, seeing what a sweet
bed-fellow he had gotten, suddenly starting out of
the bed, [hee] ran to his clothes, and taking them
in his hand, ran out into another chamber, crying
that he was undone, for he had lien with the ugliest
34 Pasquils Jests and
thing that euer was, and he feared it was the deuill.
In which feare [he], blessing himselfe as from sprites,
running out of the house, with the expence of his
money, almost losse of wits, and laught at of all
that knew him, like a good Woodcocke,fled away so
farre, that I neuer heard more what became of him.
a doctor atrtr l)fe Jiflan.
A DOCTOR that was newly commenst at Cam
bridge charged his seruant, that he had not to
say anything but that he should aske of him. Within
a while after, he inuited diuers of his friends to
dinner, and sent his man to desire another Doctor
to come and dine with him. The fellow went, and
the Doctor told him that he could not come, for
he had great busines to dispatch that day. So
home he comes, and sayes nothing. When the
guests were all come, they stayd from going to
dinner till the other Doctor came. When they had
stayd till two of the clock, he asked his man if he
had bidden him come to dinner. Yes (quoth his
man), that I did. And why doth he not then
come? Marry, he sayd that he had other busi-
nesse, and he could not come. Why didst thou
not tell me this before 1 (quoth his master.) Why,
sir (quoth he), because you did riot aske me.
Mother Bunches Merriments. 3 5
f one tfiat fceleeuefc fit's foife better tjjeix others.
A MAN whose wife was no better then she should
be, nor so [well] neither, his friends counselled
him to looke better unto her. The man went home,
and sharply rebuked his wife, and told her what
his friends sayd of her. She, knowing that periury
was no worse then adultery, with weeping and
swearing denyed the same, and told her husband
that they deuised those tales in enuy, because they
saw them Hue so quietly. With these words her
husband was content and well pleased. Yet an
other of his friends was at him agayne, and sayd,
that he did not well to let her haue her liberty so
much. To whome hee answered: I pray you, tell
mee whether knoweth my wiues faults best, she or
you? They sayd, she. And she, that I beleeue
better then you all, sayth you lye all like knaues.
^6e f^artfovfcsfwe mans ansfoere to tfie &bbot
of Honfcon.
PHE Abbot, riding in visitation, came to a place
where they had newly builded their steeple, and
put out their belles to be new cast. The abbot,
comming neere the townes end, and hearing no
belles to ring, in a chafe sayd to one of the towns-
36 Pas quits Jests and
men : haue you no belles in your steeple 1 No, my
Lord, quoth he. Then sayd the Abbot : sell away
your steeple. Why so, and please your Lordship ?
Quoth he : because it standeth voyd. Marry, sayd
the man, we may well also sell away another
thing in our Church as well as that, and better
too. What is that? (quoth the Abbot) Mary, our
Pulpit (quoth he), for 'this seuen yeere haue we not
had a Sermon in it, nor I thinke neuer shall, but
belles I am sure we shall haue shortly.
<2M one tijat lost jjfs purse.
A COUNTRYMAN comming up to the Tearme,
by misfortune, lost his purse; and, because the
summe was great, he set up billes in diuers places
of London, that if any man had found such a purse,
and would restore it againe, he should haue very well
for his paynes. A Gentleman of the Inner Temple
wrote under one of his billes that hee should come
to his chamber, and did write where. So, when
hee came to the place, the Gentleman asked him,
first, what was in his purse ; secondly, what coun-
treyman he was ; and, thirdly, what was his name.
Sir (quoth he), twenty pound was in my purse ; I
am halfe a Welshman; and John vp Janken is
my name. John vp Janken (quoth the Gentle-
Mother Bunches Merriments. 37
man), I am glad I know thy name : for, so long as
I Hue, thou, nor none of thy name, shall haue my
purse to keepe.' And so farewell, gentle John vp
Janken.
Of mattoe contsftefc 23ulfu'n.
T) VLKIN, well knowne in diuers places for his
mad conceits and his couzenage, upon a time
came in to Kent, to Sittingborne, and there, in diuers
villeges thereabout, set up billes, that all sorts of
people, young and olde, that would come to Sitting-
borne on such a day, they should find a man there
that would giue a remedy for all diseases, and
also would tell them what would happen unto
any of them in fiue or sixe yeeres after ; and he
would desire but two pence apiece of any of them.
Whereupon people came of all sorts, and from all
places; so that he gathered of the people that
came, to the value of twenty pounds; and hee had
prouided a Stage, and set it up, and placed a
chayre where he would sit ; and so they, being all
come in, and euery one set in order, he comes to
the gate, and takes the money from them that
gathered it, and bids them looke that good rule be
kept, and so they did. Also, he bid them by and
by sound the drumme, and then he would begin
3- L
38 Pasquils Jests and
his Orations. Hee, when they were gone, with al
haste gets him to the backside, and there hauing
his gelding, gets upon his backe, and away towards
Rochester rides he, as fast as euer he could gallop.
Now they, thinking hee had beene preparing of
things in a readinesse, sounded the drumme. The
Audience looked still when he would, come ; and
staying one, two, three howres, nay more, thought
sure they were couzened. Whereupon one of the
company, seeing a paper in the chayre on the
stage, tooke it, wherein was written :
flofo gou Ijaur f^rt* tfje Sounti of ti)e fcrumme,
|>ou mag all fcepavt life* fooled, ag gou come.
Whereupon all of them, falling to cursing and
swearing, were fayne to depart, like fooles indeed.
tfie rfcfi foftfoofo of
HP HIS widdow desired a gossip of hers that shee
would helpe her to a husband, not for any
carnall desire shee had, but onely to keepe her
goods, and see to her lands, which is hard (sayth she)
for me to doe my selfe. The woman, for all her
talke, yet knew shee spake against her mind ; and
therefore, three or foure dayes after, shee came to
her and sayd : Gossip, I haue found an husband for
Mother Bunches Merriments. 39
you, that is very wise and worldly giuen, but he lacks
the thing you wot of, whereof I am sure you care
not at all. Marry, quoth the widow, let the deuill
take that husband, if he will ; for though I desire
not the bodily pleasure, yet I would not haue him
lack that thing which, if we should fall out, should
make us friends agayne.
Of a Hatoger anb &fs Jttan.
A WORSHIPFUL gentleman, being a Coun-
seller, keeping a very good house, kept a
Gentlemans sonne to be his Clarke, and to wayt
upon his table. So one day hauing store of guests,
there wanted bread on the table. Hee beckened
to his man to fetch some, who, not understanding
him, came to him and sayd : Sir, what would you
haue ? Seest not, knaue (quoth hee), there is no
bread on the table 1 therefore fetch some. There
was enough euen now (quoth his man), if they would
haue let it alone, and not haue eaten it up. Another
time, his guests hauing supt, and ready to depart, hee
bade his man draw a cup of wine, to make them
drinke before they went. The fellow comming up
with the gilt cup couered, his master beckened him
to take off the couer. He not understanding, sayd :
Master, what would you haue ? Why, knaue, take
L 2
4O Pasquils Jests and
off the couer, quoth he, off the cup. Then hold
you the candle, sayd his man ; for I cannot do two
things at once.
l^ofo finely one soltJ tfoo loates of Jag.
T N London dwelt a mad conceited fellow, which
with his witte liued with Gallants, and domineerd
with good fellowes. Not long agoe, in hay haruest,
he gets a pitchforke on his necke, went forth to
wards Islington in the morning, and meetes with
two loads of hay comming towards the City to be
sold ; for the which he bargayned with them that
owed the same for thirty shillings. Whither shall
we bring them 1 ? quoth they. To the Swan by
Smithfield, sayd he. And so went his way and
left them, and to the Swan he went, to the good-
man of the house, and asked if hee would, buy two
loads of hay ? Yes, quoth the In-keeper, where
bee they? Heere they come, quoth he. What
shall I pay 1 quoth the In-keeper. Four Nobles,
quoth makeshift. But at last they were agreede
for twenty shillings. When they were come, hee
bade them unload the hay. So while they were
unloading, he came to the Inne-holder, and sayd :
I pray you let me haue my money ; for while my
men unload, I will buy some stuffe to haue home
Mother Bunches Merriments. 4 1
with mee. The Inneholder was content, and gaue
him his money. And so he went his way. When
the men had unloaded their hay, they came and
demaunded their money. I haue payd your master,
quoth the Inne-keeper. What master ? quoth they.
Marry, quoth he, he that bade you bring the hay
hither. We know him not (quoth they). Nor I
(quoth hee), but with him I bargayned, and him
haue I payd ; with you I medled not ; and there
fore goe seeke him if you will. And so the poore
men were couzened of their hay.
Of a png Gentleman tjat toouttr jjaue
a magtJ toftft a long nose. 1
A YOUNG Gentleman, none of the wisest, would
haue kissed a fair maid that had something a
long nose, who sayd : How should I kisse you 1 your
nose is so long that our lips cannot meet. The
mayd waxing angry in mind sayd : If you cannot
kisse my mouth, sir, for my nose, you may kisse
me there whereas I haue neuer a nose.
(i) This story is borrowed from Mery Tales and Quicke Answers,
No. xi.
In Love's Maistresse, or, the Queen's Masque, by T. Heywood, 1636,
act iv. sc. 2, the ist Swain says :
" Besides she hath a horrible long nose."
To which the Clown replies :
" That's to defend her lips."
42 Pasquils Jests and
one tSat fell off a tree at CEfveenestefc.
n^HER-E was a Husbandman that dwelt at
Greenested that was gathering his fruit, and
being hard at work, forgot his footing, and downe he
comes tumbling, and with his fall brake one of his
ribs. To comfort him came a merry man, his neigh
bour, who sayd hee would teach him such a rule,
that if he would follow it, he would neuer fall off a
tree agayne. Marry, sayd the hurt man, I would
you had taught me that rule before I fel ; neuer-
thelesse, because it may happen to profit me another
time, let mee heare it. Then sayd the other : Take
heed that you neuer goe faster downe then you go
up, but descend as softly, and you shall neuer fall.
a sdjoler an& a plouc$man.
A CERTAYNE scholler beeing in Bedfordshire,
a rude ploughswayne reprooued him for
something, saying, that he could say all his prayers
with a whole minde and stedfast intention, not think
ing on anything else. Goe to, sayd the scholler ;
say one Pater noster to the end, and thinke on
no other thing, and I will giue thee my horse.
That shall I doe, quoth the ploughman. And so
Mother Bunches Merriments. 43
he began to say : Our Father which art in heauen,
till he came to Hallowed be thy name, and then
his thought mooued him to aske this question :
Yea, but shall I haue the brydle and saddle to ?
And so he lost his bargayne.
fcrunfan JWulltns of Stvatfortr fcreamcfc
lie fountJ goto.
JV/T ULLINS being drunke, and lying in his bed
dreamed that the Deuill led him into a field
to digge for Gold, and when he had found the
gold, the Deuill sayd : Thou canst not carry it away
now, but marke the place, that thou mayst fetch
it another time. What mark shal I make 1 qd.
Mullins. With Pilgrime salue (quoth the Deuill),
for that shall cause euery man to shun the place,
and for thee it shall be a speciall marke. Where
he did so, and when he awaked, he perceiued he
had fouly berayed his bed. Thus betweene stinke
and dirt up he rose, and made him ready to go
forth. And last of all, he put on his hat, wherein
also the cat had **** : so for great stink hee threvve
away his hat, and was fayne to wash his head.
Thus all his golden dreame was turned to dirt.
44 Pasquils Jests and
Of a goung fooman at Garnet, t&at sorrofosfc
for Set Jwsbantis treat!).
TN Barnet was a young woman that, when her
husband lay a dying, sorrowed out of all mea
sure, for feare that shee should lose him: Her father
came to her, willing her to be contented ; for he
had prouided her another husband, a far more
goodly man. But she did not onely continue in
her sorrow, but was also greatly displeased, that
her father made any motion to her of any other
husband. As soone as her other husband was
buried, and the Sermon was done, and they were
at dinner, between e sobbing and weeping, she
rounded her father in the eare, and sayd : Father,
where is the young man that you told me should
be my husband ? Whereat her father suddenly fell
a laughing.
& poore foeggers ansfotr to a n'cfi <54tt?en.
A POORE begger, that was foule, blacke, and
lothsome to behold, came to a rich Citizen
and asked his almes. To whom the Citizen sayd : I
pray thee get thee hence from mee, for thou lookest
as though thou earnest out of hell. The poore man
Mother Bunches Merriments. 45
perceyuing hee could get nothing, answered : For
sooth, sir, you say troth, I came out of hell indeed.
Why diddest thou not tarry there still ? quoth the
Citizen. Marry, sir (quoth the begger), there is no
roome for such poore beggers as I am ; all is kept
for such Gentlemen as you are.
sufufltg of a Hafojier repaid foit& tje Kfee
sutttltg.
n^HERE was an unthrift in London that had
receiued of a Marchant certayne wares which
came to fifty pounds, to pay at three moneths, but
when he had it, he consumed and spent it all ; so that
at the sixe moneths end there was not any left to
pay the Marchant : wherefore the Marchant arrested
him. When he saw there was no other remedy but
either to pay the debt or goe to prison, he sent to
a subtill Lawyer, and asked his counsell, how he
might cleare himselfe of that debt. What wilt
thou giue me (quoth he), if I doe ? Fiue markes
(quoth ;he other), and heere it is ; and as soone as
you haue done you shall haue it. Well, sayd the
Lawyer, but thou must be ruled by my counsell
and doe thus : When thou commest before the,
Judge, whatsoeuer he sayeth unto thee, answere
thou nothing, but cry Bea still, and let me alone
46 Pasquils Jests and
with the rest. So when he came before the Judge,
he sayd to the Debter: Doest thou owe this Marchant
so much money ? Bea (quoth he). What, beast,
(quoth he) answere to that I aske thee. Bea!
(quoth hee againe.) Why, how now 1 ? quoth the
Judge, I thinke this fellow hath gotten a sheepes
tongue in his head : for he answeres in -the sheepes
language. Why, sir, quoth the Lawyer, doe you
thinke this Marchant that is so wise a man would
bee so foolish as to trust this Ideot with fifty pounds'
worth of ware, that can speake neuer a word 1 no,
sir, I warrant you ; and so perswaded the Judge
to cast the Merchant in his owne suite. And so
the Judge departed, and the Court brake up. Then
the Lawyer came to his Clyent and asked him his
money, since his promise was performed and his
debt discharged. Bea (quoth he). Why, thou
needst not cry Bea any longer, but pay me my
money. . Bea (quoth he agayne). Why, thou wilt
not serue me so, I hope (quoth the Lawyer), now
I haue used thee so kindly. But nothing but
Bea could master Lawyer get for his paynes, and
so was fayne to depart.
Mother Bunches Merriments. 47
& tale of a merrg GD&rfetmns Carroll, sung by
foomen.
'T^HERE was sometime an olde Knight, who being
disposed to make himselfe merry in a Christmas
time, sent for many of his Tenants and poor
neighbours, with their wiues, to dinner ; when
hairing made meat to be set on the table, [he] would
suffer no man to drinke till hee that was master
ouer his wife should sing a Carroll to excuse all the
company. Great nicenesse there was who should
be the Musician, now the Cuckow time was so
farre off. 1 Yet with much adoe, looking one upon
another, after a dry hemme or two, a dreaming
companion drew out as much as hee durst towards
an ill-fashioned ditty. When hauing made an end,
to the great comfort of the beholders, at last it
came to the womens table, where likewise com-
maundement was giuen that there should no
drinke be touched till shee that was master ouer
her husband had sung a Christmas Carrol ; where
upon they fell all to such a singing, that there was
neuer heard such a catterwalling piece of musike.
Whereat the knight laughed so hartily, that it did
him halfe as much good as a corner of his Christ
mas pye.
(i) See Additional Notes.
48 Pasquils Jests and
& jest of a felon at
THE Assises being at Oxford, among the rest
there was a Felon that had the benefit of the
Clergy, to haue his booke ; a but he could read neuer
a word. Which a scholer perceiuing, stood behind
and prompt him with his uerse that he was to reade ;
and comming to the latter end, he held his thumbe
upon the booke, that the scholler could not see :
wherefore he bade him softly : take away thy
thumbe. He thinking that the same was so in the
booke, sayd aloud : Take away thy thumbe. Which
the judge perceiuing, bade take him away ; and so
he was condemned. And being upon the ladder,
ready to dye, and the rope about his necke, he
sayd : Haue at yon Dasie that growes yonder ; and
so leaped off the gallows.
Of a Gentleman of Norfolk an& fits Host.
A GENTLEMAN of Norfolke as hee was riding
towards London in the winter time, and sitting
by the fireside with his Host untill supper could be
made ready, there happened a Rabbit to be at the fire
a resting, which the gentlema perceiued to be very
leane, as he thought. Quoth he unto his Host : We
haue Rabbits in our country, that one will drip a
(i) An allusion to the neck-verse.
Mother Bunches Merriments. 49
pottle, and baste it selfe. The In-keeper wondred
with himselfe, and did thinke it to be a lye, but
would not say so, for maners sake, and because he
was his guest ; but thinking to requite him. Now
truly, quoth he, it is very strage, but I can tell you
of as strange a thing as that ; which the Gentleman
[was] very desirous to heare. Quoth he, I had as fine
a Grayhound as any was in England ; and if I had
happened to goe abroad to my grounds, the Gray-
hound would alway go with me. And sometime
there would start out a Hare before me, which my
Grayhound would quickly catch. It fortuned that
my dog died, and for very loue that I bare to him,
I made me a bottle of his skin to carry drinke
withall. So, one time in hay harvest, my folks
being making of hay in my grounds, and the
weather hote, I filled my bottle with beere, to
carry to them, lest they should lack drinke. And
as I was going along, there start a hare out of a
bush before me ; and as it was my custome, I
cried : Now, now, now. My bottle, leaping from
my girdle, ran and catcht the Hare. What, quoth
the Gentleman, methinks that should be a lie.
Truly, sir, said the in-keeper, so did I thinke
yours was. The Gentleman perceiuing that he
was requited for his kindnesse, held himselfe con
tented.
5O Pasquils Jests and
& tale of a printer an& a (tatkfooman.
A S a merry conceited Printer was going thorow
S. Martins in London, with a friend of his,
being merrily disposed : quoth hee : I will laya quart
of wine with you, that I will goe and kisse yonder
Gentlewoman who is comming on the other side of
the way. Wilt thou ? quoth the other, and I wil
lay it with thee. The wager being layd, presently
this Printer crosses the way, and met this Gentle
woman, and with cap and bended knee salutes
her, and taking her by the hand kissed her. The
Gentlewoman [was] somewhat abashed at this
sudden salutation, and could not call to mind where
she had scene or known him. Truly, sir, sayd she
(and made a low curtsie), you must pardon me, for as
yet I do not know you. Truly, nor I you, mistris ;
but I hope there is no hurt done. So saluting
her, [he] went his way, leauing the Gentlewoman
much ashamed, and [causing] much laughing to the
beholders.
a tale of a Gentleman anfc Jjts man.
A GENTLEMAN upon a time hauing a man
'^ that could write and read well, rebuked him
one day for idlenes, saying : If I had nothing to
doe I would, for the better comfort of my wit, set
Mother Bunches Merriments. 5 l
downe all the fooles I know. The fellow, making
little answere, tooke his pen and hike, and as his
master had wished him, fell to setting downe a
Catalogue of all the fooles that he was well ac
quainted with : among whom, and first of all, he
set downe his master, who, reading his name, would
needs know the nature of his folly. Marry (quoth
he), in lending your Couzin twenty pound this other
day : for I thinke he will neuer pay you. Yes, but
(quoth his master), what if he do pay me 1 Then
(quoth his man) I will put out your name, and put
downe his for a foole.
togt of t&e tope of tjj* couetous tot'tij a
HTHE King of Fraunce, Charles the fift, being
presented by a poore Gardiner with a Turnep
of a huge greatnesse, gaue him for his reward fiue
hundred crownes, gluing him charge to lay it up
and keepe it safely for him, till hee did call for it.
Which bounty being noted of all his Court, and
chiefly obserued by one couetous rich officer of his
house, caused him, in hope of some greater recom-
pence for a greater present, to present his Majesty
with a faire and goodly horse, which the king
thankfully receiuing, noting his miserable nature,
5 2 Pasquils Jests and
and that his gift rather did proceecle from hope of
gayne then good will, called for the Turnep, where
with he rewarded the miserable Asse ; at which he
no lesse fretted, then all that saw it hartily laughed.
And so I wish all such churles to be serued.
& pvettg tale of a jf oxe anfc an &sse.
T N the time out of mind, when men wrote they
cared not what, I find a discourse of a Lyon
which, being King of beasts, upon some, I know
not what cause, called a Parliament, whereto a great
number of his subjects being come as neere to his
presence as they durst, hee caused a proclamation
to be pronounced to the whole assembly, that what
beast soeuer bare a home in his head should not,
after that day, presume to set foote within that chiefe
wood of his, without his especiall license, and
whosoeuer did violate his commaund should be
held as a traytor, and suffer death without further
Judgement. It fell out within few dayes after, that
a Foxe, hailing one night met with a brood of young
Geese, besides Rabbets and Chickens, and hauing
drawne them to a bush, under which he had layd
them, farre from the high way, chaunced in the
morning to espye a poore Asse comming towards
him, to whom, after a few salutations and questions
Mother Bunches Merriments. 53
touching his passage that way, he tolde the sum-
marie of the aforesayd proclamation ; who answered
him, that it nothing touched him, for that he had no
homes. Oh, but (quoth the Foxe) take heede, thou
hast long eares and if the Lyon will say that they
be homes, then they are as ill as homes ; but if
thou wilt helpe me to carry a little poultry that I
haue taken heere for the Court, I will warrant thee
to goe and come safe. The poore Asse, whose
backe was made for the purpose to beare the Foxe's
burden, followed his counsell, and tooke up the
poultry, which the Foxe made shift to lay upon his
backe ; wherewith hee was no sooner come to the
woodside, but a Woolfe, espying of him, ran to
wards him, of whom not a little afrayd, he flung
downe his burden, with this out-cry : Let neuer
Asse follow a Foxe, lest he meet with a Woolfe at
his iourneyes end.
a fooman struitr a (SHutton, but get jje
in as too goofc for Jer.
TV" OT unlike to Mother Bunch our Hostesse, an
olde woman in Sussex, that brewed good Ale,
there dwelt, that had euery weeke a lusty eater, and
as tall a drinker, [who] used to her house; but when
he had serued himselfe, he would not pay any thing
3- M
54 Pasquils Jests and
at all. The Woman, grieuing to be thus used still,
knew not what remedy to haue, for with his swag
gering hee domineerd, because hee had bene a
souldier. One Tuesday morning he comes thither,
saying : Hostesse, what shall we haue to breakefast 1
I haue nothing of your price (quoth she) at this
time. Whereupon he began to sweare so pityfully,
that he so feared the woman that she set a dish of
sweet butter before him, that shee had kept for
others that were to come thither, whereof he be
gan to eate so greedily, that she feared he would
eate up all. And thereupon she stept to the dore,
as though one had knockt, and came in agayne,
and sayd to him : Sir, there is one at the dore
would speake with you. Whereupon hee went to
the doore. In the meane space she thrust his
knife in the fire, and heat it almost red hote. In
comes hee againe, saying, there was nobody there.
Then belike he is gone, quoth she. Hee, taking
his knife againe, would haue cut the butter, but it
fell still from the knife ; whereat he wondring
sayd : Hostesse, I maruaile what ailes my knife 1
Truely, sir, your knife blushes to see his master so
unreasonable. In faith, sayd he, if this knife
blush, his fellow here yet looketh pale; and so
drawes out his other knife, and eates up the rest
of the butter cleane.
Mother Bunches Merriments. 5 5
ansfoere of a (Stntkmans man to ins
Jttaster.
A WORSHIPFULL Gentleman in London,
hairing on a time inuited diuers of his friends
to supper to his house, and being at supper, the
second course comming in, the first was one of the
Gentlemans owne men, bringing a Capon, and, by
chance, stumbling at the portall doore, the Capon
flew out of the platter, and ran along the boords to
the upper end of the table, where the Master of the
house sate, who, making a iest of it, sayd : By my
faith, it is well ; the Capon is come first, my man
will come anon too, I hope. By and by, came
his man, and takes up the Capon, and layes it in
the platter, and sets it on the boord. I thanke
you, sir, quoth his Master, I could have done so
my selfe. I, quoth his man, tis a small matter, sir,
for one to doe a thing, when he sees it done before
his face.
(Eertat'ne suIUn spm&cs of Bfogenes to
antrer,
~P\IOGENES walking on a time in a Churchyard
neere unto a high way that lay in a valley,
espied Alexander with a great traine a farre off upon
a hille comming downe towards that towne, where
M 2
56 Pasquils Jests and
the Church stoode. Whereupon, minding to put
Alexander out of such proud humours, as he doubted
of him at that time to be possessed with, ran in
all haste unto the Sexten of the Church, for the key
of the doore within which lay the dead mens
skulles and bones which had beene digged up;
where, taking out as many as he could well carrie
in his armes, hee laid them one by one in the way
where Alexander was to passe ; who, being come
some what neere unto him, and seeing his paines in
laying of the bones, asked what he meant by it.
Why (quoth Diogenes), I have heard that here
have beene as well the bones of Princes, as poore
people, buried here in this Churchyard, and now I
have beene laying them together, to see if I could
finde any difference whereby I might finde which
were the Princes and which the beggers ; but,
truely, they are so like one an other, that I find no
difference at all. Well (quoth Alexander), this is
one of thy dogged humors ; but how darest thou
thus trouble me in my time of pleasure, knowing
that I can take thy life from thee, if 1 list 1 Why
(quoth Diogenes), doe thou know, that I will die in
spight of thy teeth, and, therefore, care not for thy
threats, knowing death to bee the worst that can
come of them, and my offence no greater then this
in deseruing of them. Which answere Alexander
Mother Bunches Merrriments. 57
well noting, knowing his nature, left him to his
sullen humors.
<&f a fcrunfcen fellofo tfjat fell m t!)e fire.
'"PHERE was a notable drunkard of Rochester,
whom his wife perswaded, as much as in her
lay, to leaue that sinne ; but the more shee spake the
worse hee was ; and, because she controuled him,
he would al to beat her. So she let him alone ;
and, because his use was still to stay out till almost
midnight, she would goe to bed, and bid her maid
tarry up for him, and make a good fire ; and so
shee did. One night, when he came home, the
maide let him in, and he stoode by the fire, and
warmed himselfe ; but his head beeing too heauie
for his bodie, downe he fell in the fire all along.
The maid ran, crying, Oh, mistresse, mistresse, my
Master is fallen into the fire. No force, mayd
(quoth she), let him take his pleasure in his owne
house a Gods name, where he will himselfe.
& pretty tale of a Jpoxe anfc a Goose.
T N the time when birds and beastes could speake,
and the windes would carry many tales thorow
the wood, as it is written by some idle head, there
came a Foxe out of a wood, unto a countrey house,
5 8 Pasquils Jests and
there neere to adioyning, where, finding a broode
Goose, within a kind of open penne, saluted her
in this maner : How doe you, sister 1 I heard
you were not well of late, which made me come
to visit you, as one who would be glad to doe you
any good that laye in his poore power. The Goose,
sitting ouer her young brood crowding, made him
this answere : Truly, I am not wel ; yet I thinke I
and mine should doe much better, if you would
not so often come to visite us; yet for that I
have a payne in my backe, I pray you come in
and feele how it is swelled, that you may the
better teach me what to apply unto it. The Foxe,
very glad of this unlocked for kindnesse, hoping
to haue that he came for, put his head no sooner
within the dore, but a dog, lying closly hidden,
caught him by the nose, and, biting off a piece of
his chappe, with a sudden snatch let him go.
The poore Foxe, making no little haste home to his
borough, no sooner came among his fellow Foxes,
but with great sighes told them, that he was bitten
with a Goose ; which the bitch-foxe hearing, with
an open mouth ran at him, and beat him out of
the hold, with this shamefull reproche : Go, coward,
bite her agayne ; thou shalt neuer come within my
borough ; to be bitten of a Goose, and bring a way
neuer a feather.
Mother Bunches Merriments. 59
& fotttg ansfom of a J^tagfstrate to a malicious
accuser of an offender.
A MALICIOUS fellow, willing to bring a neigh
bour of his unto all the disgrace he could
deuise, and shrewdly suspecting him to haue more
then a moneths mind to a fine mistres neere unto
him, oftentimes watching his going in and comming
out of her house : one day, among other, in the
euening, noting his long stay, suspected that there
was somewhat to doe more then all the Parish was
acquainted with, and therefore seeing the maidegone
foorth upon some errand, beeing very earely in the
morning, suddenly stept in with a companion of
his, and tooke them together at their exercise ;
which, being glad of, and that he had witnesse to
make his matter good, runnes to the Magistrate
of the Citie, who had to deale with such persons
and such cases, and told him as much as he had
scene, with : oh, Sir, I assure you he is a perillous
man for a woman ; and, to tell you the troth, we
tooke him in bed with her : what say you to such
a fellow ? The Magistrate, some what allyed unto
the young man, and wishing rather a secret amend
ment then an open reprehension, gaue him this
answere : Truely, for the matter, it is not well ; but
60 Pasquils Jests and
for being taken in bed with her, in truth I can
thinke no otherwise, but hee was a sluggard : I
know not what to say to him. The accuser,
seeing the people smile, and himselfe mocked with
this speech, did no further aggrauate the matter,
but, with a flea in his eare, went away with his
malicious humor.
(OH Bt'ng f^enn'e antt tfie <ountreg=man.
T/"1NG HENRY, ryding a hunting, in the countie
of Kent, he came by chance to a great gate,
that he must needs passe through, and in the way
there stoode a Ploughman, to whom the King
sayd, I prethee, good fellow, open the gate. The
fellow, perceiuing it was the king, stoode like an
Image, and said : No, and it shall please your
Grace (quoth hee), I am not worthy to bee in that
office ; but I will fetch Master Cooper, that dwelleth
but two miles hence, and he shall open you the
gate. And so ran away, as fast as euer he could.
tfie oftre man of Jttonmoutfi, tfiat gaue fits
sonne all fit's goofcs in fit's life time.
N Monmouth dwelt an ancient man, of fayre pos
sessions and great lands, hauing but one sonne
I
Mother Bunches Merriments. 61
to enioy all his substance. His sonne being
married, he gaue him all that he had, and so
would Hue free from all worldly matters, in his
olde age, with his sonne in his owne house. After
the deed of gift was made, awhile the olde man
sate at the upper end of the table; afterwards,
they set him lower, about the middle of the table ;
next, at the tables end ; and then, among the
seruants ; and, last of all, they made him a couch
behind the doore and couered him with olde sack
cloth, where, with grief and sorrow, the olde man
dyed. When the olde man was buried, the young
mans eldest childe sayd unto him : I pray you,
father, giue me this olde sackcloth. What wouldst
thou doe with it? sayd his father. Forsooth, sayd
the boy, it shall serue to couer you, as it did my
olde graundfather.
pjofo a fooman to Jfoe a small fault s&efoefc a
greater.
A WOMAN at Romford had for some cause
shauen her head, and newly as shee had put
off her kercheife off her head, one of her neighbours
called for her hastily into the streete. When her
neighbour saw her so, she blamed her for comming
abroad bare-headed. Shee, remembring her selfe,
62 Pasquils Jests and
whipt up her clothes from behinde her, ouer her
head. And so, to hyde her head, shee showed her
bare tayle.
a mafcte man in dEflocestm&fo ansfomtr
a
TN Glocestershire dwelt one that cured frantike
me in this maner : when their fit was on them,
he would put them in a gutter of water, some to
the knees, some to the middle, and some to the
necke, as the disease was on them. So one that
was well amended, standing at the gate by chaunce,
a Gentleman came riding by, with his Haukes and
his Hounds. The fellow called him to him, and
sayd : Gentleman, whither goe you ? On hunting,
quoth the Gentleman. What doe you with all those
Kytesand Dogges? They be Haukes and Houndes,
quoth the Gentleman. Wherefore keepe you them?
quoth the other. Why, quoth hee, for my pleasure,
What doe they cost you a yeere to keepe them 1
Fourty pounds, quoth the Gentleman. And what
doe they profit you? quoth hee. Some ten pounds
(quoth the Gentleman). Get thee quickly hence,
quoth the fellow ; for if my master finde thee heere
he will put thee in to the gutter up to the throat.
Mother Bunches Merriments. 63
an Cermet bg part's, t&at lap fot'tf) all tfce
(StntldBonun in tjje Countreg. 1
HPHIS notable knaue, that, under colour of holy-
nesse, enticed all the chiefest Matrones of the
Countrey to folly, at last, his doings were detected
and knowne, and he was brought before the Duke
of Anioy, which, to heare the number of them for
his disport, called his Secretary to write them
downe. The Secretary bade him recount them.
The Hermet named to him the number of xxvii of
the Dukes seruants wiues, and others, and then
stoode still and sayd nothing. Is there no more 1
quoth the Duke. No, and it shall like your Grace,
quoth the Hermet. Tell troth, quoth the Secre-
tarie, for if thou doest not, thou shalt be sharply
punished. Then sayd the Hermet, sighing : To
make up the xxviii, write thine owne wife in the
number. Whereupon the Secretarie, for uery
griefe, let fall his pen. And the Duke, laughing
heartily, sayd : I am glad that he that with so great
pleasure hath heard the faultes of other mens
wiues, should now come into the same number
himselfe.
(i) This tale is found in the Heptameron of the Queen of Navarre, first
printed in 1549, but the Author or Editor of Pasquils Jests probably
took it from Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres, where it is No. 40, and
is entitled : " Of the hermite of Padowe*
64 Pasquils Jests and
miserable nfc$artri?e of a ^justice.
'IPO conclude with this miserable Justice, who
came to London, to the Terme ; and, lying in
Fleet-street, a companie of excellent Musicians, in
a morning, played very earely at his chamber. But
he, being loth to bestow his money so uainely,
bade his man tell them, hee could not as then
heare their Musike, for he lamented for the death
of his mother. Wherefore, they went their way,
for their hope was deceiued. A Gentleman, a
friend of his, in London, hearing the same, came
to comfort him, and asked him when his mother
dyed. Fayth (quoth hee) some xvi yeeres agoe.
When his friend understood his deceit, he laughed
heartily.
enfc of tfje
Mother Bunches Merriments. 65
fogmne tjje
first (Sull, upon tjje foager of tjje
anli tjje (ofoe for goofc trautll.
' I "HERE was sometime, not many yeeres since }
a merry conceited man, of what profession I
doe not well remember, who, hauing occasion to take
poste from some hauen to\vne neere the Sea, came
to the Maior of the Towne to complaine of the
Constable of the Towne, for his little honestie in
prouiding him such ill horses, knowing the nature
of his busines, and the haste it required. The
Maior, looking upon them as one that had not
often made any posting iourneyes, tolde him, that
though they were not so good as he had scene, yet
they would serue the turne well ynough, and
that as then he thought the Towne would yeelde
him no better. Whereupon the poster told him,
that if hee were no better furnished, that in his
(i) A Gull signifies here apparently a person who is soft and easily
deceived ; but at the time when Pasquils Jests made their appearance,
the word certainly had a more extended meaning. See Epigrams, by
[Sir] J[ohn] D[avies], circa 1596, in Marlowe's Works, ed. Dyce, iii. 226.
Epigram ii. is On a Gull, and professes to be an accurate definition of
what that term imported.
66 Pasquils Jests and
Countrey, a man would teache a young Cowe, to
carry him further in a day then the best horse in
that Towne ; and, for a neede, hee coulde doe as
much there, and thereupon hee would lay twenty
pound es. The Maior, discontented with his speech,
tolde him he would lay the wager, tooke money in
earnest, the wordes were set down, witnes set to
their hands, that, in xxiiij houres, he would so dyet
a young Cow, y* she should carry him further in a
day then the best horse in the Shire. The Cow
was brought into a stable, hey and water set to
her, and in the morning, when he should ride, a
horse brought thither to the place, which, pre
sently, he would haue bound to the Cowe ; which,
being too heauie for the cowe to carry, they all
found the deceite, and the poore Maior beeing
made a good Gull, was forced to confesse his folly,
and to giue the Poster a good piece of money to
be rid of his wager.
second (fruit, upon t&e foagev of leaping.
A CERTAINE yong, well limmed, broad shoul-
dred and milposte-legged yong man, who (it
should seeme) with following of hounds, was used
to leaping of ditches ; and so, with use, grew to be
Mother Bunches Merriments. 67
held the captaine leaper of that side of the Coun-
trey. One day, among other, wherein games came
about the Countrey, best, second, and third, a great
assembly of the youth of diuers Parishes, striuing
before their best beloues, who had the lightest
paire of heeles, put in their peeces of money, each
one for the best, or the rest, as it fell out. This
gallant yonker, aduancing himselfe, beeing untrust
for the purpose, offers any man a foote before him,
for the price of a quarter of the best malt in the
countrey. But while no man would meddle with
him, one mad-headed fellow standing by him,
suddenly stept to him, and told him that, if
hee might chuse his ground upon the ground
before him, that he would aduenture upon the
aduantage of a foote before him, at the uprising
or standing ; he would leape with him for fortie
shillings. The wager was layd, the money put
into a boxe, and the witnesses came to see the
leaping ; when he that took the foote before him,
tooke his ground just before a great Elme tree
that grew on the greene hard by ; where, beeing
able to leape no further then the tree, the other,
finding himselfe deceiued, was contented to lose
part of his money, to learne him better wit ; and
so, like a good Gull, went his way.
68 Pasquils Jests and
tfutfr (Still, upon a foager of going as fast
as a fiorse, an& go all one
A DAPPER yong fellow, upon a time, having
bought him a pretty ambling gelding, was for
certaine daies almost neuer off from his backe ; and
riding him no long iourney, but, as it were, betwixt
London and Mile-end, in the view of many people,
willing to make shewe of his horse or horseman
ship, sitting as upright as a picture of Rye dowe :
a subtill companion of his acquaintance, meaning
to make a Gull of his mastership, told him it was
a pretty Nagge, but hee was but slow pased, and
that hee would lay fiue pounds that he would go as
farre in a daye on foote, as hee should ryde his
horse, and goe both one way. The fine and all
so fine, beeing much moued to heare his horse so
disgraced, accepted his offer, layd the wager, and
they put the money into a mans hands of good
worth, that stoode by. Which done, the merry
tellow, standing in the high way, went backwards.
Which the horseman assaying to do, not used to
those kind of tricks, his horse, rising aloft, fell
backwards with him, with danger of his life; when,
rising up, and seeing the other still going backe-
Mother Bimches Merriments. 69
wards, called to him, and, with confession of losse,
taking backe what hee would giue him, remayned
a good Gull for his labour.
fourtl) (Jjull, upon a lunger to jjang
fjimselfe.
"\ 7TON a time, I haue forgotten when, in a
place out of minde, met a company of good
fellowes, which, beeing likely to bee some Inne,
while the people were all set at dinner, came in an
old rich Farmer of the Country, who, beeing well
lyned in his purse, and therefore might haue the
merrier heart, was so full of talke at dinner, that
scarce any men else was heard at the table. Which
a Scholler sitting among them wel observing, and
withall seeing him wel tickled in the head with the
good drinke, upon the sudden fell into this speech
with him. Honest man, I pray you pardon me,
if I say anything that may offend you ; I am sory
to see the euill that is towards you : you haue bene
uery merry, but I feare you will neuer be so againe
in this company; for I see in your eyes a spirit
of madnesse, which will very speedily bring you
to your unhappy ende. For, indeede, within this
houre you will hang your selfe in the stable, upon
one of the great beames ; and that I will lay
3- *
70 . Pasquils Jests and
a good wager, either with you, or anie of this
companie. The olde man, much moued at this
speech, and yet noting his grauitie, tolde him,
that he was sory to see a Scholler haue so much
learning and so little wit ; but, my friend (qd. hee),
if you haue any money in your purse, you shall be
rid of it, when you will, upon that wager. Wher-
upon the Scholler gaue him ten shillings, and told
him, that if he did not hang himselfe within an
houre after, and first come into the house, and
aske forgiuenesse of all the house, hee should giue
him but ten pound for it. The Farmer tooke the
money, called in for wine and sugar, and made
merry withal. At the houres ende, he came to
take his leaue of the Scholler and his company,
who told him that he must pay ten pounds, for
that he had not hanged himselfe. At which words
he, finding the deceite, confessed his ignorance,
payed for the good cheere, and, trebling the
Schollers money, like a true Gull got him home
againe.
fift Gull, tjat lost tfit foager upon tfie
great ??ogge.
N the midst of the Terme, at a certain Alehouse
or Inne, where couetous wretches set their half-
T
Mother Bunches Merriments. 71
starued horses and themselues feede upon browne
bread and redde herrings, using after supper to sit
sixteene at a faggot and a pot of beere, and in
quiring of mine host, What newes in the Town 1
A cunning companion, that could feede upon the
braines of a Conney, gat him a lodging in the house ;
and, getting a company of olde written papers bound
up in skrowles, like lawe cases, would play the
penny-father among them, till he had made his
market with some of them; so, holding an euen hand
among them, talking of many idle things, at last brake
out into a great admiration of the strange wonders
of the world, and of all not the least, of a huge
great Hogge that hee had scene in the Countie of
Lincolne, neere unto the Fennes, where were three
Sowes that were so high, that the tallest man in the
company standing upright, let him reach as high
as he could, he should not touch the backe of it,
and these three Sowes with their pigs were a pore
mans, that would sell them for xii pounds, and if
he had had money, hee would haue bought them,
and haue gotten a hundred pounds by the bar-
gaine. Foure or fiue of those greedy Asses, giuing
no little eare to his talke, entreated him that hee
would bring them thither, and they would beare
his charges. But he, onely leaning to one of them,
whose purse he knew to be full of mony, secretly
N 2
72 Pasqttils Jests and
in a morning stole away with him, and rode
downe with him into the Countrey ; where keeping
of a certaine blinde house of lodging, kept the
poore man at his house fiue or sixe dayes, to see
these great Sowes, and in the end brought him
unto a pretty Sowe, by whom he caused him to
stand upright and reach up his hand as high as he
could, when he asked him if he did now touch her
backe. Who answered, No ; for hee was too high
aboue it. Well (quoth he), this is the Sowe that
you shall haue for foure poundes of your money,
that I haue receiued of you ; which he had de-
liuered him the night before. The poore man,
finding his greediness kindely met withall, and that
he must take the Sowe, or lose al, was content
with losse of halfe his money, to returne againe,
as good a Gull as he went out.
gt'xt CSfuIl, upon a lifting IBoggt.
A N idle-headed fellow, new come out of the
'^ Countrey, and determining, after a little money-
spending, to returne home with a budget full of
newes, met by chance with an odde wagge, cousin
Germaine to a Page ; who, finding his humor, and
meaning to fit him in his kinde, fell into this honest
kinde of parlee with him : Oh, old huddle and twang,
Mother Bunches Merriments. 73
what newes in the Countrey, that you are come to
towne 1 ? hast thou beene at a play yet ? Yea (quoth
the good clowne), that I haue, two or three. But,
Sirra, what newes where you keepe ? I am sure
you heare all the world. No great newes (quoth
the wag), but onely of the huge great lifting Dogge,
that came lately out of Barbary, they take but
two-pence a peece of euery one that seeth him :
he is at the signe of the Carnation Hedgehog, in
Westminster, neere to y e Gatehouse ; go thither
when thou wilt in my name, and thou shalt see
him for a penny. The poore Asse, little mis
trusting the boyes waggery, went in all haste,
seeking for such a signe as was not to be found.
But, being demaunded wherefore he sought, one of
the Pages, coparteners in his tricks, told him, if he
would giue him but a quart of wine, he would
bring him to the Dog. The fellow, weary with
seeking for the Carnation Hedgehogge, was con
tented, for the abridging of his further travaile, to
giue him both wine and sugar, with such appurte
nances as cost his purse aboue an ordinary. Which
done, and the shot payed, out this youngster leads
this little wit, from one lane to another, till, hauing
traced most streets to be thought upon, at last he
brought him out at the townes end, to a poore womas
house, that kept a little Iseland curre, whom,
74 Pasquils J'ests and
shewing unto this good Goose : Looke you (quoth
he), he lifts up his tayle so high, that you may
kisse his **** if you list. And with those words,
laughing, ran a way, crying, Oh Gull, Gull, get thee
home into the countrey, and carry newes of the
lifting Dogge.
seuentj) (Suit, for tfic $igges tfcat fom
f^entus.
HTRAUAILING upon the way to London, out of
what country I know not, a certayne pretty
quick-witted fellow ouertooke a company of horse
men, who to passe away y e time, fell to talke of
such things as came in their heads : some of Horses,
some Hawkes, some Hounds, some Hares, and some
Connies ; but towardes their iourneyes end, they
fell to talking of wonders, each one recounting
what he had scene : some the long ditch at
New-market, other the stones by Salisbury, and
some the top of Powles, and other of the Lyons
in the tower; but, among all this, the youth in
a basket that ouertooke the company, began to
tell of a most miraculous thing that he had scene,
and that but two nights before : that, in a towne
some fourty myles behinde him, at the signe of the
Whip and the Egge shell, he did see twelue pigges
Mother Bunches Merriments. 75
in a yard, going by two Sowes, and in the morning
they were all Hennes. Many seemed to wonder
at it, and the more at his sober protesting of his
truth in his tale. Whereupon, one simple man of
the company, desirous to carry newes home of
such things as he had scene abroad, desired this
fellow, at his comming backe againe, to beare him
company to that Towne, and into his way back
againe, and he would beare part of his charges
for his kindnes. This being betwixt themselues
agreed upon, their businesse being dispatched
together, they rid home together, where, being
well dried after a wet iourney, going to supper,
they had one of the Pigges well rested in his
house, whose name was Henne : and in the
morning, asking for these Henne Pigges, he shewed
him all the rest. Wherewith, finding himselfe
sweetly deseyued, ashamed to tell the world how
he was abused, like a good poore Gull, gat him
out of the Countrey.
tgc$t (ffifull, upon tje (Sarfcens.
T T fell upon a time, much about Sturbridge faire,
that many mad people, minding to throwe away
a little money, for lacke of company in the City,
would needs go make merry in the Country ; among
76 Pasquils Jests and
whom was one iolly lusty wench, that had made
her selfe fatte with good ale and laughing. This
piece of houshold stuffe, being hostesse of I know
not what Inne, say her husband what he list,
would make one among her friends j and being
some three or fourescore miles out of London,
in a Countrey market Towne, where were some
such girles as thought their pennies good silver,
and their ware worth money : after they had
beene merry some few dayes, and almost emptied
a poore Tauerne of al his runlets, inquiring, as
the fashio is, after newes, this good mistris, falling
to her turne to talke of wonders, told them that
one of the greatest wonders that euer shee saw,
or heard of, was of late in the Citie, done by a
stranger, touching gardens and the preseruation of
flowers, for she had scene it with her eies : that he
had taught diuers how to take in their gardens
euery night at their windowes, and let them out
againe euery morning. Which thing the neigh
bours that came with her seemed to soothe up,
that they had heard of the like, but they had
neuer scene it. But she with solemne othes still
affirmed that she had scene it, and could bring
them to it. While they all gaue eare unto it, one
chiefe woman of the company, who had her purse
well lyned, and cared not for to spend a little
Mother Bunches Merriments. 77
money for the satisfying of her humor, upon a
beliefe of her solemne protestations, told her that
if she might be assured to come to the sight of
that she spake of, shee would take some of her
neighbours with her, and shee would beare her
companie back to London. To be short, the
matter was agreed upon, the wonder was beleeued,
the day appointed for their iourney, and together
they came to London, where they lay all at her
house, had good cheere, and payed well for it.
But after they had gone abroad with the Hostesse
to see sightes, Cheapeside, the Exchange, West
minster, and London bridge, had beene upon the
toppe of Powles, beene at the Beare-garden, scene
a play, and had made a Tauerne banquet, looking
into their purses for to discharge their expences,
were willing to see this strange sight of these
gardens, which shee had dayly promised to bring
them to, but stil making excuse, that they were
in the Countrey, and not yet come to London
againe, that had such gardens to be scene ; in the
ende, [she] brought them to a little lane, whereout at
a garret window, shee shewed them a poore widdow
setting out certaine boords, and upon them certaine
earthen pottes, in which were diuers kindes of
flowers and herbes, as Gilly-flowers, Carnations,
and such like. The woman, seeing her selfe with
78 Pasquils Jests and
her company mocked with this iest, made little
shew of anger, but seemed to laugh it out, and
with this tricke of mistris Hostesse to gather some
mony with her wit, tooke a Gull with her into
the Countrey, to feede a foole when she found
him.
turn!) CSfull, tfiat fotsj)t for
A MONG madde Countrey wenches, that, when
they sit a milking, will be talking of their
sweete hearts, it was my happe, not long since, lying
close under a bush, to heare a merry tale of a bird
little wiser then a Woodcocke. There was a yong
fellow that was well furnished for implements of
houshold, mary his wealth was not great, and his
wit but little, and his spirit of a weake constitution.
For as it fell out, a rich widdowe, that was past a
girle, and therefore knew what to do with a good
thing when she had it, hearing diuers reports of
such persons as she was wished to make much
of, among al she heard of one yong man, a neigh
bours sonne of hers, to bee a sufficient man to
doe her much good seruice, either within the
house or without, either for plowing, or threshing,
or sowing, or such countrie worke as best fitted
Mother Bunches Merriments. 79
her occupation. This yong man she sent for, and
as farre as modesty might, shee made shew of
her affection, which the Goose not perceiuing, she
caried him . . . - 1 into her chamber, where she told
him she must haue his helpe to remoue a chest.
The fellow understanding nothing more then was
tolde him, went up with the widdow, and all alone
from one chamber to another, the doores shutting
after them, where shee, often smiling at his either
shamefastnes or foolishnesse,in the endecarryed him
to a chamber where stoode a chest that hee could
not remoue ; when, saying he would fetch companie
to helpe him, she answered, No, now she was
otherwise minded. And so leading downe againe
the good Asse, she neuer sent more for him. A
friend of his, meeting of him comming forth, hoping
of his good hap, knowing his beeing aboue with
her alone, asked him how he had sped. Whose
answere was, Oh, I wisht I had had her in the
wood, and then I would haue tolde her my minde.
Now what a notable Gull was this, I leaue to all
good humord wenches to consider.
(i) Two or three words, not material to the sense, are illegible here
from the copy of the old ed. I have used having been clumsily repaired
at this passage.
8o Pasquils Jests and
ttntft CSuIl, tfiat sfioofa fit's gloues.
THIS tale was no sooner ended, but another
wench began to quite her in this sort : Nay,
then, I will tell thee of as good an Asse as that
was for his life. In our Towne, not long ago, one
of the chief of our Parish, who was twise Church
warden, and in election to be Bailife, a good fat gross
Churle, hauing a good house of his owne, and well
to take to, marryed a widow that dwelled three miles
off, who, hauing good cattell and come, and some
household of her owne, by the motion of good
friends, made a match together. But this Churle,
being trouble with some sixteene diseases, lay
himselfe in one bed, and his wife in an other by
him, who, hauing a kinde of more then good liking
to a yong man in the house, some kinsman of his,
with sheepes-eyes, and smiles, and such odde kind
of wicked kindnes, she made him understand her
minde ; and beeing agreed one night to come into
her chamber when hee was asleepe, shee told him,
for feare of the worst, that he should take a paire
of her gloues, and flappe them to and fro in his
hand, which would make a noyse like unto a great
Spaniell that used often to shake his eares ; which
lesson he forgot not. Night was come, the candles
Mother Bunches Merriments. 8 1
out, they in bedde, and he came creeping like a
dogge. But the doore creaking, the old man halfe
awake, or not fast asleepe, asked who was there ;
when the fellow shaking of his gloues together,
made him thinke it was the dogge, when saying,
Oh, Troll, he lay still as though he slept. But the
fellow missing his way in the darke, running his
head against his masters bedpost, upon a sudden
the old man start up his head with, How now,
who is there ? The poore man amazed, forgetting
to flappe his gloue, answered, Forsooth, it is the
dog. Whereat his mistris laughing, bad hang him
up. Whereat the fellow, as it were, following in,
and seeking to driue him foorth, cryed out, Come
out But in the morning, as I heard, the Gull was
put in a coope, where I heard no more of him.
deutntf) (Hull, upon tlje <ole=foort.
T T.is a tricke among many Travailers, if they light
into companie that they thinke haue not passed
the Seas, to tel wonders that wise men ought not
to beleeve upon the first hearing. Among which
kind of people, it fell out one day at an Ordinarie,
that a certaine idle copanion, that loued to heare
himself speake, and would talke more then either
82 ' Pasquils Jests and
he understood or euer heard of, hearing diuers at
the table talking of the diuersitie of soyles, and
the natures of fruits, began himselfe with a fine
and all so fine kinde of lisping utterance, to tell
that he had scene many countries, and noted the
diuersities of their natures ; but of all, one espe
cially hee noted for the fertilities of the soyle,
where, among many kindes of rootes, Gowrdes,
Melons, and such other kind of fruits, there grewe
in one waste peece of ground, neere unto a garden,
a Colewort of that hugenesse for height and bredth,
that foure score Tinkers upon a sunny day sate at
worke together under the shadow of it. Nowe while
euery body wondered at his tale, and some, that
he was not ashamed to lye so broad that no body
could lie by him, one well conceited spirit of the
company, upon the sudden, thinking to quite him
in his kind, brake out into this speech : Why it
is not so strange as that which I heard was in
the same place, that all those tinkers did worke
together upon one kettle. For what use? (quoth
the Travailer). Mary, Sir (quoth the other), to
seethe your Colewort in. At which speech finding
his lye hit him, with as much speede as he could,
like a lying Gull, gat him away from the company.
Mother Bundles Merriments. 83
tfoelft!) <ull, upon tje erg of
T READ among the discourses of country actions,
that a Gentleman of the Countrie, that loued
home-sportes, as Hawking, Hunting, Ducking,
Fowling, and Fishing, and such like, but of all,
especially a good cry of Hounds, of which he kept
the best in al the Country, upon a morning riding
forth, neere a wood side, start a hare, who led
the Hounds a chase thorow the wood, where
the winding of the homes, the hollowing of the
hunts-men, and the mouthes of the dogs made
such a countrey pleasant sweet noyse, that the
Master of the sport, sitting still upon his horse,
as one half ravisht with his pleasure, esteeming
no musicke comparable to such a cry, sodainely
brake out into this speech among them that were
neere him : Oh what a heauenly noise is this !
List, list, for Gods sake ; is not this a heauenly
noyse 1 Whereat one Gull of the company, who,
as it should seeme, neuer heard any dog but a
Mastiffe, holding up his eare as it were towardes
the Skie, to heare some noyse from the heauens,
brake out into these words : Oh Lord, where is
this heauenly noyse ? Why, harke (quoth the Gen
tleman), list awhile, dost thou not heare ? No
84 Pasquils Jests.
(quoth the Gull); the curres keepe such a baw
ling, I can heare nothing for them. Whereat
the Gentleman laughing, and yet inwardly chafing
at the fooles wit, rode away from him, and left him
to learne more understanding.
THE
CONCEITS OF OLD HOBSON.
The Pleasant Conceites of Old Hobson the Merry Lon
doner. Full of Humourous Discourses and Witty
Merriments. Whereat the Quickest Wittes may
laugh, the wiser sort take pleasure. Printed at
London for John Wright, and are to be sold at
his Shoppe neere Christ- Church gate. 1607. 4.
THE tract is in this edition dedicated to Sir W. Stone,
in the following terms :
TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPPFULL,
SIR WILLIAM STONE, KNIGHT,
MERCER TO THE QUEENES MOST
EXCELLENT MAIESTY.
YOUR friendly disposition (Right worshippfull), giving
grace to well meaning minds, hath imboldned me
amoungst others to testifie that good will in outward
shew, which my heart of long time hath secrettly
bore to your worship, and now taking oportunity, I
present to your favorable censure this small booke,
contayning many quick flashes of the witty iests of old
Hobson the merry Londoner, lately a cittyzen of good
estimation, and I thinke not alltogether forgotten of
your worship. Receave this little treatise (I beseeche
you) with favour answerable to my good will ; and, as
your leasure shall serve, bestow now and then a little
reading therefore which, if it please you to doe, I doubt
Introduction. 3
not but you will like well of the labour, and besides
the honest recreation which it affordeth, apply what
your worship maketh choyce of unto your private
pleasure ; and thus wishing your prosperity, acceptance
of this my guift, and a good opinion of the giver, I
conclude, hoping that my honest wish
shall not be voyd of a
happy successe.
Your Worships most humble to command.
RICHARD IOHNSON.
Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson, the Merry Londoner,
full of Humorotis Discourses and witty merryments,
whereat the quickest wits may laugh, and the wiser
sort take pleasure. London. Printed by W. Gilbert-
son, 1640, \irno.
Of this edition, which I have unfortunately not been able to examine,
only one copy is known, and that wants the last leaf. From a notice
attached to the copy in question in the catalogue of a collection of Shake
spearian literature, sold in 1857, it appears that the ed. of 1640 presents
considerable variations, and has additional matter, probably pilfered, like
the contents of ed. 1607, from some other book of the same kind, and
transplanted by the compiler of the later impression to his own pages
without the slightest ceremony or judgment, as is the case with the
tract, as edited by Johnson himself.
The curious little tract here reprinted professes to
narrate pleasant episodes in the life of William Hobson,
who followed the business of a haberdasher of small
wares in the Poultry during the reigns of Edward VI,
Mary, and Elizabeth, and who, in later life, acquired some
B-2
4 Introduction.
wealth, and occupied a distinguished position in the
City. Hobson, who seems to have been a bluff and
plain-spoken, but charitable and generous, 1 man, and to
have enjoyed besides a certain reputation as a humour
ist, was born quite at the beginning of the reign of
Henry VIII ; he died at an advanced age in 1581, and
was buried in St. Mildred's Church in the Poultry.
William Hobson is, of course, a distinct person from
Hobson the Cambridge carrier, with whom he was
confounded by Malone. In 1617, appeared a pamphlet
by Gervase Markham entitled Hobsorts Horseload of
Letters; this publication refers not to the haberdasher,
but to his provincial namesake.
There can be no doubt that recollections of Hobson's
eccentric sayings and doings long survived him, and
that, among the Londoners, and the apprentices espe
cially, his name continued, for some time after his death,
to be highly popular. So much indeed does this seem
(T) " Dr. Nowell. I know him well ;
A good, sufficient man ; and since he purchas'd
His freedom in the city, Heaven hath bless'd
His travail with increase.
Lady Ramsey. I have known old Hobson
Sit with his neighbour Gunter, a good man,
In Christ's Church, morn by morn, to watch poor couples
That come there to be married, and to be
Their common fathers, and give them in the church,
And some few angels for a dower to boot.
Besides, they two are call'd the common gossips,
To witness at the font for poor men's children.
None they refuse that on their help do call ;
And, to speak truth, they're bountiful to all."
e, You Know No Bodie. 1606.
Introduction. 5
to have been the case, that in the second part of his play
If You Know Not Me, You Know No Bodie, printed in
1606, 4?, Thomas Heywood made the honest haber
dasher one of the dramatis personae, and gave a good
deal of prominence to him. 1 It is not improbable, that
Heywood's drama suggested to the editor of the Plea
sant Conceits the idea of his publication.
The " Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson" were col
lected by Richard Johnson, a popular writer v of the day.
As a picture of the manners of the time, they have their
value and interest, and the occasional descriptions
of Hobson's personal appearance and oddities are,
doubtless, tolerably reliable. For some of the touches
Johnson was indebted to his more distinguished con
temporary who, it may be observed, has almost carica
tured Hobson's propensity to drag in, at every other
sentence, his favourite " Bones a God " or "Bones a me."
It may be worth noticing that, in Heywood's play,
there is a passage (Shakesp. Soc. ed. p. 136), which
seems to assign to Hobson the dictum, which forms
the otherwise rather obscure title of that production.
In Act i. Sc. i., the ensuing dialogue takes place
between Hobson and Her Majesty :
" Hob. God bless thy grace, Queen Bess !
Queen. Friend, what are you ?
Hob. Knowest thou not me, Queen ? then, thou knowest nobody.
Bones a me, Queen, I am Hobson, old Hobson ;
By the stocks ! I am sure you know me."
(i) Two Historical Plays on the Life and Reign of Queen Elizabeth.
By Thomas Heywood. Edited by J. P. Collier, Esq. (Shakespeare Soc.
1851, p. 74, et alibi.}
6 Introduction.
A similar expression is put by the dramatist into the
mouth of Hobs, the Tanner of Tamworth, in the First
Part of Edward IV, 1600 (Shakesp. Soc. ed. p. 43).
As to many of the jests, it should be known that
they have not the slenderest claim to originality ; they
were, as in so many other cases, merely " ancient tales
new told," stories transplanted by Johnson, who adapted
them without difficulty or scruple to his own purposes
from the C. Mery Talys and similar collections.
In preparing the present piece for the press, the
Editor has amended the pointing, which in the original
is very faulty and capricious, but has retained the
orthography without the slightest alteration.
THE PLEASANT LIFE OF OLD HOBSON
THE MERRY LONDONER, FULL OF
HUMOROUS DISCOURSES, AND WITTY
MERRIMENTS, WHEREAT THE QUICK
EST WITS MAY LAUGH, AND THE
WISER SORT TAKE PLEASURE.
Master^ Hob sons description.
IN the beginning of Queene Elizabeths most happy
raigne, our late deceased Soveraigne, under whose
peacefull goverment long florished this our country
of England, there lived in the citty of London a
merry cittizen, named old Hobson, a haberdasher
of smale wares, 2 dwelling at the lower end of
Cheapside, in the Poultry : as well knowne through
this part of England, as a sargeant knows the
counter-gate. He was a homely plaine man, most
commonly wearing a buttond cap close to his eares,
a short gowne girt hard about his midle, and a
paire of slippers upon his feete of an ancient
fashion ; as for his wealth, it was answerable to
(1) Orig. reads Masters.
(2) See Ihynn&s Debate Between P tide and Lowlines, a Poem (circa
I 56s) > p. 34 of reprint, and Autobiography of Dr. Simon Fornian, ed-
Halliwell, p. 6.
8 The Pleasant Conceites of
the better sort of our cittizens, but of so mery a
disposition that his equal therein is hardly to be
found. Hereat let the pleasant disposed people
laugh, and the more graver in carriage take no
exceptions : for here are merriments without hurt,
and humourous iests savoring upon wisdome : read
willingly, but scoffe not spitefully : for old Hobson
spent his dayes merrily.
2. Of Master Hobsons Proverbs.
NOT many yeares since there was Sir lohn Baynes.
(by the common voyce of the citty) chosen Shriefe
of London, which man in former times had beene
Master Hobson's prentice ; and ridinge alonge the
streete with other aldermen about the citty busi-
nesse, [he] was saluted by Master Hobson in this
maner : Bones a God man ! what a cock-horse
knave ! and thy master a-foote ; heres the world
turnd upside downe. Sir lohn Baines, hearing
this his masters merry salutation, passed along
with a pleasant smyle, makinge no answere at all.
Upon slight regard, Master Hobson tooke occasion
to say as followeth : here's pride rydes on horse-
backe, whilste humilitye goes a foote. In speakinge
these words, came foure other alldermen rydinge
after Master Shreife, whose names were these :
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 9
Allderman Ramsey, Allderman Bond, Allderman
Beecher, and Allderman Cooper, at whose passage
by he made this pleasant rime :
1. Ramsay the rich t 3. Beecher the gentleman
2. Bond the stout \ 4. and Cooper the loute.
This pleasant rime, so sodaynely spoken by Master
Hobson, is to this day accounted for his proverbe
in London.
3. Of Master Hobson and lohn Tawny cotel
MASTER HOBSON, being a haberdasher of small
wares (as I sayd before), and his shoppe on a time
full of customers, his negligent prentises carelessly
(i) See Heywood's If You Know Not Me, You Know No Bodie, 1606,
Act I. Sc. i.
"Hob. What, are your books made even with your accounts?
ist Pren. I have compar'd our wares with our receipt,
And find, sir, ten pounds difference.
Hob. Bones a me, knave,
Ten pounds in a morning? here's the fruit
Of Dagger-pies and ale-house guzzlings.
Make even your reckonings, or, bones a me, knaves,
You shall all smart for't.
znd Pren. Hark you, fellow Goodman :
Who took the ten pounds of the country chapman,
That told my master the new fashions ?
ist Pren. Fore God, not I.
yd Pren. Not I.
Hob. Bones a me, knaves,
I have paid soundly for my country news.
What was his name ?
\st Pren. Afore God, I know not.
io The Pleasant Conceites of
creditted a Kentish pedler with ten pounds of
commodities, neither knowing his name nor his
dwelling place, which oversight, when maister
Hobson understood, and noting the simplicity of
his servantes and their forgetfulnes, demanded
what apparrell the pedler had on? Mary, sir
(quoth one of the prentises), he had on a tauny
cote. Then (quoth Maister Hobson), put downe
lohn Taunycote, and so was the pedler, by the
name of lohn Taunycote, entred to the booke.
About a month after, the same pedler came againe
to London to buy ware, and comming to Maister
Hobson in a russet cote, willed him to turne over
his booke for ten poundes that one lohn Rowlands
owed him. Ten pounds (quoth Maister Hobson),
that lohn Rowlands oweth me ! I remember no
such man. Bones of God, knave, thou owest mee
none ! But I doe, saith the pedler : whereupon
the booke was serched, but no lohn Rowlands
was to be found. I thinke thou art mad, quoth
Hobson, for thou owest me nothing. But I doe,
quoth the pedler, and will pay it. Being in this
2nd Pren. I never saw him in the shop till now.
Hob. Now, bones a me, what careless knaves keep I !
Give me the book. What habit did he wear ?
ist Pren. As I remember me, a tawney coat.
Hob. Art sure? then, set him down John Tawney-coat.
\st Pren. Ten pound in trust unto John Tawney-coat.
Hob. Bones a me, man, these knaves will beggar me."
Old Hob son the Merry Londoner. 1 1
strife a long time, one of his servants said, that hee
had found in the booke such a debte by one lohn
Tawny-cote. That is myselfe, replyed the Pedler ;
I was then lohn Tawny-cote, though I am now
lohn Russet-cote ; so paid hee the ten pounds by
the same name to Maister Hobson, and received
twenty more upon his owne word and name of
lohn Rowland, 1 the which twenty pound hee
shortly after paid for suertyshippe ; and so by this
his over-kind heart, paying other mens debtes, hee
grew so poore, and into such necessity, that he was
forced to maintaine his living by hedging and
ditching, and other such like country labours.
(i) In Heywood's Play, Act I. Sc. i. the name is sometimes Rowland,
and sometimes Rowland alias Goodfellow.
" znd Apprentice. Master, I have found out one John Tawney-coat,
Had ten pounds' worth of ware a month ago.
Taw. Why, that's I, that's 1 1 I was John Tawney-coat then,
Though I am John Grey-coat now.
Hob. John Tawney-coat ! Welcome, John Tawney-coat.
Taw. 'Foot ! do you think I'll be outfac'd of my honesty?
Hob. A stool for John Tawney-coat Sit, good John Tawney-coat ;
Honest John Tawney-coat, welcome John Tawney-coat.
Taw. Nay, I'll assure you, we were honest, all the generation of us.
There 'tis, to a doit, I warrant it : you need not tell it after me.
"Foot ! do you think I'll be outfac'd of mine honesty?
Hob. Thou art honest John, honest John Tawney-coat.
Having so honestly paid for this,
Sort up his pack straight worth twenty pound.
I'll trust thee, honest John ; Hobson will trust thee ;
And any time the ware that thou dost lack,
Money, or money not, I'll stuff thy pack.
Taw. I thank you, Master Hobson ; and this is the fruit of honesty."
1 2 The Pleasant Conceites of
Within a while after this, Maister Hobson, com-
ming into Kent to seeke up some desperate debts,
came to Dartford, where finding this poore man
ditching for a groat a day, in pitty of him said :
how now, John Tawny cote, bones a God, man, 1
thou canst never pay me with this poore labour ;
come home, knave, come home, I will trust thee
with twenty pound more ; follow thy old trade of
pedling again, and one day thou maiest pay me all.
Thus the pedler had a new credit of Maister Hob-
son, by which good meanes he grew rich, that in
time he bought his freedome of London, and
therein grew so welthy a Cittisen, that he became
one of the maisters of the Hospital, 2 and when he
died, he proved a good benefactor to the same
house.
(1) The forms of oaths are generally so capricious and variable, that it
would be idle and useless to seek the precise origin of some of those found
in the jest-books and anecdote-literature of early times. The oath which
occurs above of course requires no explanation. It is sometimes worded
differently, as "God-a-Bones !" &c. But our own ancestors ought not
to be regarded as peculiarly fantastic in their profanity. It was the same
with their neighbours ; and even now the Frenchman swears by cabbages
and pigs !
(2) "Lady Ramsey. Amongst these, I hold Hobson well deserves
To be rank'd equal with the bountiful' st.
He hath rais'd many falling, but especially
One Master Goodfellow, once call'd Tawney-coat,
But now an able citizen, late chosen
A master of tbe Hospital."
If You Know Not Me, &>c. Part 2, 1606.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 1 3
4. How Maister Hobson made a light Banquet for
his company.
UPON a time, Maister Hobson invited very solemnly
the whol livery of his company to a light banquet,
and for the same provided the greatest taverne in
all London in a redines. The appoynted houre
being come, the cittizens repaired th ether richly
atired, the better to grace Maister Hobsons ban
quet ; but expecting great cheare and good inter-
tainement, they were all utterly disapoynted : for
what found they there, thinke you 1 Nothing, on
my word, but each one a cup of wine and a
manchet of bread on his trencher, and some five
hundred candles lighted about the roome, which
in my mind was a very light banquet, both for
the belly and for the eye. By this merry jest, hee
gained such love of his companie, that hee borrowed
gratis out of the hall a hundred and fiftie pound
for two yeares.
5. How Maister Hobson chauttd his Prentisses the
way to the Church?-
EVERMORE when Maister Hobson had any buisines
abroad, his prentises wold ether bee at the taverne,
(i) This is taken from Scogin's Jests, where Scogin chalks his wife the
way to church. Hence comes, perhaps, the phrase " walk your chalks,"
to which, however, a somewhat different ongin has been assigned.
14 The Pleasant Conceites of
filling there heads with wine, or at the Dagger in
Cheapeside, cramming their bellies with minced
pyes. But above al other times, it was their
common costome (as London prentises use) to
follow their maisters upon Sundays to the Church
dore, and then to leave them, and hie unto the
taverne; which Maister Hobson on a time per-
ceving one of his men so to doe, demanded at his
comming home, whot the preachers text was. Sir
(quoth the fellow), I was not at the beginning.
What was in the midle 1 (quoth Maister Hobson).
Sir (quoth the fellow), then was I asleepe. (Said
Maister Hobson againe) what was then the con
clusion 1 Then replyed his servant : I was come,
Sir, away before the end; by which meanes he
knew well he was not there, but rather in some
tipling house, offending Gods maiesty and the
lawes of the land. Therefore the next Sunday
morning after, Maister Hobson called all his ser
vants together, and in the sight of many of his
neighbors and their prentises, tooke a peece of
chauke, and chaukd them all the way along to
the Church derectly, which proved a great shame
to his owne servants, but a good example to all
others of like condition : after this was there never
the like misdemenour used among them.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 1 5
6. How Maister Hobson hung out a Lanterne and
Candle light.
IN the beginning of Queene Elizabeaths raigne,
when the order of hanging out lanterne and candle
light first of all was brought up, the bedell of the
warde, where Maister Hobson dwelt, in a darke
evening criefd] 1 up and downe : hangout your lant-
ornes, hang out your lantornes, using no other
words : whereupon Maister Hobson tooke an
empty lantorne, and, according to the beadles call,
hung it out. This flout by the Lord Maior was
taken in ill part, and for the same offence [Hobson]
was sent to the Counter : but [he] being released
the next night following, the beadle, thinking to
amend his call, cried with a loud voice : hang out
your lantorne and candle. Maister Hobson here
upon hung out a lantorne and candle unlighted, as
the beadle againe commanded, whereupon he was
sent again to the Counter ; but the next night the
beadle, being better advised, cryed : hang out your
antorne and candle light, hang out your lantorne
and candlelight; which Maister Hobson at last
did to his great commendations, which cry of lant-
horne and candlelight 2 is in right manner used to
this day.
(i) Orig. reads crieng.
(2} Lanthorne and Candlelight is the tide of a pamphlet published by
1 6 The Pleasant Conceites of
7. How Maister Hobson bay ted the Divell with
a Dog. 1
NOT farre from Maister Hobsons house, there
dwelled one of the cunning men, otherwise called
fortune tellers, such cossoning companions, as at
this day (by their crafts) make simple women
beleeve, how they can tell what husbands they
shall have, how many children, how many sweet-
harts, and such like : if goods bee stole, who hath
them, with promise to helpe them to their losses
againe : with many other like deceiptfull elusions.
To this wise man (as some termes him) goes
Maister Hobson, not to reap any benefit by his
Thomas Decker in 1608-9; but I suspect that the expression was already
proverbial and familiar when Decker availed himself of it as the title of
a piece intended to be popular.
(i) In the Knave of Clubs, 1600, by S. Rowlands, this trick is played
by a " cousening knave " on a butcher :
" At length, out of an old blind hole,
Behind a painted cloth,
A devill comes with roaring voyce,
Seeming exceeding wroth,
With squibs and crackers round about
Wilde fier he did send,
Which swaggering Ball the butcher's dog
So highly did offend,
That he upon the devill flies,
And shakes his bones so sore,
Even like an oxe most terrible,
He made Hobgoblin roare."
Knave of Clubs, 1600 (Percy Soc. ed. p. 17).
Old Hob son the Merry Londoner. 1 7
crafty cunning, but to make a jest and tryall of his
experience. So, causing one of his servants to lead
a masty 1 dog after him, staying at the cuning mans
doore with the dog in his hand, up goes Maister
Hobson to the wise man, requesting his skil : for
he had lost ten pound lately taken from him by
theeves, but when and how he knew not well.
The cunning man, knowing Maister Hobson to be
one of his neighbors, and a man of a good reputa
tion, fell (as he made showe) to coniuring and
casting of figures, and after a few words of incanta
tion, as his common use was, he tooke a very large
faire looking glasse, 2 and bad Maister Hobson to
looke in the same, but not to cast his eyes back
ward in any case ; the which hee did, and therein
saw the picture of a huge and large oxe with two
broad homes on his head, the which was no other
wise but as hee had often deceitfully shewd to
others : a cossoning fellow, like the cunning man
himselfe, clothed in an oxe hide, which fellow he
maintained as his servant to blinde the peoples
eyes withall, and to make them beleeve hee could
shew them the Divill at his pleasure in a glass.
This vision Maister Hobson perceving, and gessing
(1) Mastiff.
(2) i> e. a beryl or mirror. See Aubrey's Miscellanies, ed. 1857,
p. 154-
1 8 The Pleasant Conceites of
at the knavery thereof, gave a whistle for his dog,
which then stayed below at the doore in his mans
keeping; which whistle was 1 no sooner hard, but
the dog ran up stayers to his maister as he had
beene mad, and presently fastned upon the poore
fellow in the oxe hide, and so tore him as it was
pittifull to see. The cunning man cried : for the
passion of God : take off your dog ! No (quoth
Maister Hobson), let the Divill and the dogge
fight ; venture thou thy devill, and I will venture
my dog. To conclude, the oxe hide was torne
from the fellows backe, and so their knaveryes
were discovered, and their cunning shifts layd
open to the world.
8. How Maister Hobson alowed his wife two men to
waight on her to the Market.
As Mai. Hobson increased in riches, so increased
his wife in pride, in such sort that she would
seldom goe out of doores without her man before
her. 2 Upon a time, having buissnes to Cheapside
market amoungst many other of her neighbors, the
more to shew her haughty stomack, [she] desired
(1) Orig. reads being.
(2) A curious picture of the merchant's wife of the Elizabethan era is
given by Nash in his Pierce Penniles, 1592 (Shakesp. Soc. ed. p. 21).
Old Hob son the Merry Londoner. 19
of her husband that she might have her man to
attend her, who, seeing her disposition, willingly
consented thereunto, and thereupon called two of
his lustiest men, put them in armor with two
browne-bills on their necks, placing one of them
before her, the other after, and so preferred to send
her forth to market. She, in a nicenes, 1 tooke
such displeasure hereatt, that for a mounth after
she lay sicke in her bed, and would eate nothing
but caudles 2 made of muskadine.
9. Of an Epitaph that Maister Hobson made for a
dead man.
THERE was a very rich cittyzen (dwelling not far
from London bridge) who 3 in his life time was never
knowne to doe any deed worthy of memorie ; who,
dying, left Maister Hobson his onely executor to
dispose of his goods, as also to lay upon his grave
a faire marble stone ; and as upon marble stones
there bee commonly ingraven certaine verses in the
maner of an epitaph of the mans conversation there-
(1) Fit of foolishness. The adj. nice is employed by Chaucer in the
sense of foolish. See Naves in voce Nice (edit. 1859).
(2) i.e. cordials. Caudle is the form of the word generally found in
early English works. See, for instance, Comedie of Patient Grissil,
1603 (Sh. Soc. ed. p. 88), and Wife Lapped in Morels Skin, circa 1550
(Sh. Soc. ed. p. 71).
(3) Orig. reads -whom.
C2
2O The Pleasant Conceites of
under buried, so Maister Hobson considered what
epitaph he would set upon his friends grave, [and]
knowing the few good deeds he did in his life time,
caused these two verses following to be ingraven
upon the marble stone.
EPITAPH.
He was begotten, borne, and cryed,
He lived long time, fell sicke, and died.
10. How Maister Hobson proved himself e a Poet.
MAISTER HOBSON, having ocasion to ride into the
wild 1 of Kent, where in that age scollers were very
scarce, during the time of his taring there, there
hapned to be buried one lohn Medcaufe, a very
sufficient farmer, upon whose grave was written
these verses following, in faire Romaine letters.
I desire yee in the Lords behalfe,
To pray for the soule of poore John Caufe.
Maister Hobson, noting the simplicity of the
verses, writ underneath as followeth :
O thou, Death, more suttell then a foxe,
Thou mightst a let this caufe lived 2 to be an oxe,
To have eat grasse, hay and corne,
And like his sire to have wore a home.
(1) Weald.
(2) Probably the word should be live; but Hobson's poetical efforts, as
reported by Johnson, are so deplorably sorry, that it seems scarcely
worth while to take much trouble in ascertaining the true reading.
In MS. Ashmole, No. 38, this story is attributed to Tarlton the Jester.
See vol. ii. p. 253.
- Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 21
i T. How Maister Hobson found his Factor in France
with a French Curtizan.
MAISTER HOBSON, having in France a factor which
dealt for him in marchandise, and lacking divers
sorts of wares to furnish his chapmen for Bristowe
faire, sent to his aforesaid factor (being a mery
conceited youth) for certaine matches of such
commodities as were then most in request. He,
mistaking his maisters meaning, sent him al the
matches used for gun-pouder that could be bought
in France, to the valew of two thousand poundes
worth. Maister Hobson, receaving them, and seing
himselfe matcht with a commodyty of matches,
thought all was not well in France, and that his
man necklected his busines there. To know the
truth thereof, the next morning very early, not re
vealing it to his wife, in a night gowne, a buttoned
cap, and in a payre of slippers, 1 [he] tooke shipping
(i) "Hob. Mother a me, leave off these parables,
And tell me plainly, is he not a wencher ?
Tim. By yea and by nay, sir, without parable, I am no tell-tale. I
have seen him in company with Madonna such a one, or such a one : it
becomes not flesh and blood to reveal. Your worship knows he is in
France, the sea betwixt him and you, and what a young youth in that
case is prone unto your gravity is wise. I'll not say so much as I saw
him drinking with a French lady or lass in a tavern, because your gravity
is wise ; but if I had, it had been less than, perhaps, you imagine on such
a wild youth as he, no question, does deserve.
Hob. Mother a me, 'tis so. In a French tavern,
22 The Pleasant Conceit es of
at Billinsgate, and so passed over into France, when,
after some inquiry made of his mans life and con
versation, he found him in a lewd house, reveling
with a most gallant French curtezan, whome Maister
Hobson after a smile or two saluted in this manner :
what now, knave 1 what, a wenching, knave ? at
rack and manger, knave ? J Bones of me, cannot a
snatch and away serve your turne, knave 1 Is this
Kissing the lady, and the sea betwixt us.
I am for you, Master John ; thus in my gown and slippers,
And nightcap and gown, I'll step over to France."
If You Know Not Me, You Know No Bodie, 1606, Act I. Sc. i.
(i) " John. Zounds ! my master.
Hob. Sancte amen ! Man John, a wenchart knave, rack and manger
knave? Bones a me, cannot a snatch and away serve your turn, but
you must lie at rack and manger ? Is this the ware you deal with,
servant John ?
John. Chapman's ware, sir.
Hob. Sirrah, sirrah, the dealing with such ware belongs not to our
trade. Bones a me, knave, a 'prentice must not occupy for himself, but
for his master, to any purpose.
John. And he cannot occupy for his master without the consent of his
mistress.
Hob. Come, y'are a knave,
John. Of your own bringing up, sir.
Hob. Besides, thou canst not keep open shop here, because thou art a
foreigner, by the laws of the realm.
John. Not within the liberty ; but I hope the suburbs tolerate any man
or woman to occupy for themselves: they may do't in the city, too, an
they be naturalized once.
Hob. Ay, but sirrah, I'll have none of my English 'prentices Frenchi
fied. Bones a me, knave, I'll have thee deal with no such broken
commodities.
John. Your worship must have such as the country yields, or none at
all. But, I pray ye, sir, what's our trade ?
Hob. What say'st thou, knave ?
John. That your worship is a haberdasher of all wares.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 23
the French wares you deale withall, knave 1 His
man, seeing himselfe so taken napping, for a time
stood amazed, not knowing what to say, but re
covering his sences, he gave his niaister this pleasant
answere : though, sir, this ware is a broken com
modity, yet may wee deale with them, being dealers
with all wares, or rather haberdashers of small wares,
which is seldome lik'd of French gentlewomen.
Maister Hobson at this pleasant answere could not
choose but pardon him, and so came they both over
into England, where now this rack and a manger is
growne to a proverbe. 1
1 2. How Maister Hobson got a Patient for the Sale
of his Matches.
THE commodity of matches which his factor sent
him from France, being slow of saile, considering
Hob. Bones a me ! a haberdasher of small wares.
John. And that the worst trade in all Christendom, and especially for
French women." If You Know Not Me, &c. 1606, Act I. Scene i.
(i) This proverb is, To lie at rack and manger, i.e. To live plentifully.
" Yet must ye be at further danger,
If ye doo intend to use them oft ;
Keepe them both at rack and maunger.
Aray them wel, and lay them soft."
The Schole-house of Women, 1542.
" I have found out a cunning way with ease
To make her cast her coat, when ere I please ;
And if at Rack and Manger she may be,
Her Colts tooth she will keep most wantonlee. "
Wild's Poems, 1670, p. 59.
24 The Pleasant Conceites of
the little use for them being a time of pease, 1 like
a witty cittizen Maister Hobson hies himselfe to
court to the Queene Elizabeth, for then she raigned,
and having a pattent ready made for the sale of the
aforesaid matches. Where, so soone as hee came
into the Queenes presence, hee kneeled downe,
and desired her grace to give an asignement to his
pattent, declaring what it was, and the great losse
he was like to sustaine by that commodity. The
Queene, perceaving for what intent he came, and
considering the great benefit that would come by
(i) "Boy. Here's a letter sent you from John Gresham.
Hob. Oh, an answer of a letter that I sent,
To send me matches against Bristow fair,
If then any were come.
Boy. I cannot tell, sir, well what to call it ; but, instead of matches of
ware, when you read your letter, I believe you will find your factor hath
match' d you.
Hob. What's here ? what's here ? [Read the letter.
' As near as I could guess at your meaning, I have laboured to furnish
you, and have sent you two thousand pounds' worth of match.'
How ? bones, knave ! two thousand pounds' worth of match ?
Boy. Faith, master, never chafe at it ; for if you cannot put it away for
match, it may be the hangman will buy some of it for halters.
Hob. Bones a me, I sent for matches of ware, fellows of ware.
Boy. And match being a kind of ware, I think your factor hath match'd
you.
Hob. The blazing star did not appear for nothing.
I sent to be sorted with matches of ware,
And he hath sent me naught but a commodity of match,
And in a time when there's no vent for it.
What do you think on't, gentlemen ?
I little thought Jack would have serv'd me so."
Heywood, Act I. Sc. i.
Old Hob son the Merry Londoner. 25
such a grant, and meaning to give it to some gentle
man nere unto hir, as a recompence for his service,
said unto Maister Hobson : my friend (sayd the
Queene), bee content : for thou shalt not have thy
pattent sealed, nor will I give thee thy request.
Maister Hobson, hearing the Queenes denial, said :
I most hartely thanke your maiesty, both I and all
mine are bound to thanke and pray for your high-
nes ; and so making lowe obeysance, went his way.
At these his words the Queene much marvailed,
and when he had gone a litle from her, she caused
him to be sent for backe againe, whome, when he
was returned, the Queene asked, if he did well
understand what answer her grace did give him.
Yes truely, saide Maister Hobson. What said 1 1
(quoth the Queene) Marry, your grace bad me be
content, for I should not have my desire, nor my
pattent sealed. Why did youe then (qd. the Queene)
give me such great thanks ? Because (said^ Maister
Hobson) your grace gave mee so soone an answere
withoute either longer sute or losse of time, the
which would have beene to my very much harme
and great hinderance : for I have at home a mighty
charge of househould, to which I am bound in
duety to looke diligently, and to maintaine care
fully. The Queene, marking well the wisdom and
discreet answer of Maister Hobson, and now con-
26 The Pleasant Conceites of
ceaving a new favour towards him, sayd : now shall
you give me twice thanks, for you shall have your
pattent sealed, and your desiers performed that
you sue for. So casting her eyes upon the Lord
Chauncelour, [she] commaunded the same by him to
be done, which was accomplished with all speede ;
whereby in short time, hee had quicke saile of his
commodity of matches to his hearts content, and
his welthes great encrease. 1
13. Master Hoi sons lest of Ringing of Bells upon
Qiieene's Day.
UPON Saint 2 Hewes day, being the seventeenth of
November, upon which day the tryumph was holden
for Queene Elizabeths hapy goverment, as bonfiers,
ringing of bells and such like ; but in the parish
where Maister Hobson dwelled, he being Church
warden, was no ringing at all, by reason the steeple
was a-mending and the bells downe ; and being
asked by a servant of the Queenes house, why they
ringed not, he answered, because they had no bels
in their steeple. Then qd. the Queens man : may
you very wel sel away your steeple. Why so, qd.
(1) Unluckily for Hobson's credit, this story is taken from the Mery
Tales and Quick Answers, ed. 1567, No. 139.
(2) Orig. reads Satint.
Old Hob son the Merry Londoner. 27
Maister Hobson ? Because, quoth the other, it
standet emty and vacant. To whom Maister
Hobson replyed againe : we may better sell awaye
our pulpet : for these twelve mounths was there
never a sermon in the same, and it rather stands
empty and vacant. After this the parson of the
church preached every Sonday following. 1
1 4. Of a Begers Answear to Maister Hobson.
A POORE begger man, that was foule, blacke and
loathsome to behould, came on a time to Maister
Hobson, as he walked in Moore feelds, and asked
something of him for an almes : to whom Maister
Hobson said : I prethee, good fellow, get thee from
me, for thou lookst as thou camst lately out of hell.
The poore begger man, perceving hee would give
him nothing, answered ; forsooth, Sir, you say true,
for I came lately out of Hell indeed. Why didst
not thou tarry there still, quoth Maister Hobson.
Nay Sir, quoth the begger, there is no roome for
such begerr men as I am : for all is kept for such
gentlemen cittizens as you be. This wity answere
caused Maister Hobson to give the poore man a
teaster. 2
(1) This tale had already appeared in Mery Tales, &c. ed. Berthele
(circa 1530), where it is the i2th tale.
(2) Sixpence. In Mery Tales, &c. (ed. Berthelet) this identical anec
dote is related as an adventure between Skelton the poet and a beggar ;
28 The Pleasant Conceites of
1 5. How long Maister Hobsons Daughter mourned
her Husbands Death.
MAISTER HOBSON had a daughter which was a very
faire and young woman, the which for her husband
that laye a dying, made great sorrow and lamenta
tion, and would not bee comforted by any perswa-
sions, wherefore her father came to her and sayd :
daughter, leave of your mourning, for if God take
away your husband, I will speedily provide you
another of as great a welth and credit as he is now
of, and farre more young and lusty. But yet, for
all this, would shee not leave mourning, and grew
greatly displeased that her father made any motion
of another husband, protesting that she would
never marry more. But now marke the variable
minds of women ! Her husband was no sooner
dead and buried, the charges of his buriall paid
for, and shee with her friends set at supper to
comfort her, betweene sobbing and weeping, she
whispered her father in the eare and said : father,
where is the same man, that ye said should bee
my husband 1 Thus may you see (quoth Maister
Hobson) 1 the nature of women kind, and how long
it is the 1 3th Tale. It does not, however, occur in the Mery Tales of
Skelton, 1567.
(i) This is almost a literal copy of the loth Tale of Mery Tales, &c.
(edit. Berthelet}. So much for Master Hobson's wit !
Old Hob son the Merry Londoner. 29
they mourne for their husbandes, after they bee
dead. These words made the yong woman never
after to aske her father for a husband.
1 6. How Maister Hobson caused his Man to set
tip a Signe.
MAISTER HOBSON having one of his Prentices new
come out of his time, he, 1 being made a free man of
London, desired to set up for himself. So taking a
house not far from saint Laurence Lane, furnished
it with store of ware and set the signe of the May-
denhead. Hard by, was a very rich man of the same
trade, [who] had the same signe, and [who] reported
in every place where he came, that the yong man
had set up the same signe that he had, onely to get
away his customers, and dayly vexed the yong man
there withall who, being greved in mind, made it
knowne to Maister Hobson, his late maister who,
commirig to the rich man, said : I marvell, Sir
(quoth Maister Hobson), why you wrong my man
so much as to say he seketh to get away your cus
tomers. Mary, so he doth (quoth the other): for
he hath set up a signe called the Maidenhead, as
mine is. That is not so (replied Maister Hobson) :
for his is the widdoes head, and no mayden-head ;
therfore you do him great wrong. The rich man,
(i) Orig. reads and.
3O The Pleasant Conceites of
hereupon, seeing himself requited with mocks,
rested satisfied, and never after that envied Maister
Hobsons man, but let him live quietly. 1
17. Of Maister Hobsons lest of a Louse and a Flea.-
UPON a time, Maister Hobson going to my Lord
Maiors to dinner amongst the livery of his com
pany, and being waited on by one of his prentices,
the said prentise spied a louse creeping upon the
side of his gowne, and tooke it off. Maister Hob-
son, espying him to doe some thing in secret, asked
him what it was. The fellow, being ashamed, was
loath to tell him ; but, being importuned by his
maister, said it was a louse. Oh ! (qd. Maister
Hobson) this is good lucke : for it sheweth me to
be a man, for this kind of vermine chiefly breedeth
on mankind ; and thereupon gave five shillings to
his man for his labour. Another of his prentises,
being a pickthanke knave, and having h[e]ard that
his fellow had five shillings given him for taking a
louse from of his maister, [went to his maister]
having his gowne likewise on, and made as though
he tooke a flea from the same, and convayed it
(1) This pointless story seems quite original.
(2) This is merely a new application of No. 24 of Mery Tales and Quick
Answers (ed. Berthelet). In the older book it is related of Louis XI. of
France and one of his servants. See also Taj'lor's Works, 1630, i. 105.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 3 1
privilyaway. But when maister Hobson constrayned
him to tell what it was, with much dissembling
shamefastnes he said it was a flea. Maister Hob-
son, perceving his disinflation, said to him : what !
dost thou make mee a dogge : for fleas be most
commonly bread upon dogs 1 And so, [for] the
five shillinges he lookd for he had given fiveteene
stripes : for, quoth Maister Hobson, there is great
difference betweene one that doth a thing with a
good mind, and him that doth a thing by disimula-
tion.
1 8. How one of Maister Hobsons men quited him
with a merry lest.
MAISTER HOBSON had a servant that hee had long
before made a freeman, and was still at Maister
Hobsons commandment, and did him much good
service ; wherefore, upon a time, hee came unto
his maister and said : sir, I have done your service
long time iust and truly, wherefore I pray you
bestowe some thing upon mee to begin the world
withall. Fellow, quoth Maister Hobson, thou sayst
true, and hereon have I thought many times to doe
a good turne ; now will I tell thee, what thou shalt
doe. I must shortly ride to Bristowe faire, and if
thou wilt beare my charges thether, I will give thee
32 The Pleasant Conceites of
such a thing as shall be worth to thee a hundred
pounds. I am content (quoth the fellowe). So all
the way as hee road his man bore his charges, and
paid for all things dewly, till they came to their last
lodging, and there after supper he came to his
maister and said : sir, I have borne your charges
as you commanded me ; now I pray you let me
know what the thing is, that will be worth to me a
hundred poundes. Did I promise thee such a
thing? (quoth his maister.) You did (quoth the
fellow). Shew it me in wrighting (quoth his maister).
I have none (qd. the fellow). Then thou art like
to have nothing (quoth his maister) ; and learne
this of me : when so ever thou makest a bargaine
with any man, looke that thou take a wrighting for
thy security, and be wel advised how thou givest
thy bond to any man ; this thing hath 1 benefitted
me in my time a hundred pounds, and so may it
likewise do thee. Thus when the poore fellow
saw there was no remedy, he held himselfe content,
and all that night pondred in his mind how to grow
[to a] quittance with his maister. So, on the mor
row, when his maister had dispatched his buissines
in the towne, and was set forward back again to
wards London, he taried a litle behind to recon
with the hostes where he lay, and of her he bor-
(i) Orig. reads had.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 33
rowed as much mony on his maisters cloke as
came to all the charges that they spent by the way.
Maister Hobson had not riden past two miles but
that it begon to raine, wherupon he called for his
cloke of another servant that rod by, who said that
it was behind with his fellow who had it with him.
So they tooke shellter under a tree, till he overtooke
them. When he was come, maister Hobson most
angerly sayd : thou knave, why comst not thou
away with my cloke ? Sir, and it please you (quoth
the poore fellow), I have layd it to pawne for your
charges all the way. Why, knave, quoth maister
Hobson, didest not thou promisse to bear my
charges to Bristowe ] Did I, quoth the fellow ?
Yes (quoth Maister Hobson),. that thou didest.
Shew me a wrighting then therefore (said the fel
low). Whereunto Maister Hobson (seeing himselfe
so cunningly overreached) answered but litle. 1
19. Of Maister Hobsons riding to Sturbrige Faired
MAISTER HOBSON on a time, in company of one of
his neighbors, roade from London towards Sturbrige
faire. So the first night of there iorny they lodged
(1) This is a reproduction with very slight variation of No. 54 of Mery
Tales and Quick Answers (1530), where it is related of Mr. Justice
Vavasour and his man Turpin.
(2) i.e. Stourbridge Fair.
" Taivnycoat. God bless you, Master Hobson.
34 The Pleasant Conceites of
at Ware in an Inne where great store of company
was, and in the morning, when every man made
him ready to ride, and some were on horsbacke
setting forward, the cittizen his neighbour found
him sitting at the Inne gate, booted and spurd, in
-a browne studdy, to whome hee said.e : for shame,
Maister Hobson, why sitte you heare ? Why doe
you not make yourselfe redy to horsebacke, that
we may set forward with company ? Maister Hob-
son replyed in this manner : I tarry (quoth he) for
a good cause. For what cause 1 quoth his neigh
bour. Marry, quoth Master Hobson, here be so
many horses, that I cannot tell which is mine owne,
and I know well, when every man is ridden and
gone, the horse that remaneth behind must needs
be mine. 1
Hob. Bones a me, knave, thou'rt welcome. What's the news
At bawdy Barnwell, and at Stourbridge Fair ? "
Ileywood'sif Yo?( Know Not Me, y#u Know No 0^,1.606^^ I. Sc. i.
" Women-dancers, Puppet-players,
At Bartholomew and Sturbridge fairs."
Dixon's Canidia, 1683, Part V. p. 87.
" A fire licking a child's Hair
Was to be seen at Sturbridge Fair,
With a lambent flame all over a Sweating Mare. "
Ibid. p. 148.
See Taylor's Works, 1630, ii. 8. Auctions of books used in former times
to be occasionally held at this fair.
See also Gutch's Collectanea Curiosa, ii. n, et seqq.
(i) No. 72 of the Mery Tales and Quick Answers (1530) is entitled,
" Of the Two Yong men that rode to Walsingham," and is identically the
same as the above.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 35
20. How Maister Hobson found a Farmers pursed
THERE was a certaine farmer that lost forty pounds
betwixt Cambridg and London, and being so great
a summe, he made proclamation in all market
townes thereabouts, that whosoever had found
forty and five pounds, should have the five pounds
for his labour for finding it, and therefore he put in
the five pound more than was lost. It was Maister
Hobsons fortune to find the same some of forty
pounds, and brought the same to the Baylife of
Ware, and required the five pounds for his paines,
as it was proclaymed. When the country farmer
understood this, and that he must needs pay five
pounds for the finding, he sayd that there was in
the purse five and forty pounds, and so would hee
have his own mony and five pounds over. So long
they strove that the matter was brought before
a justice of peace, which was then one Maister
Fleetwood, who after was Recorder of London.
But when Maister Fleetewood understood by the
bayleife that the proclamation was made for a
purse of five and forty pound, he demanded where
it was. Here, quoth the baylie, and gave it him.
Is it just forty pound, said Maister Fleetewood ?
(i) This is an almost exact copy of No. 16 of Mery Tales, &c. (1530),
where it is related of Mr. Justice Vavasour and his man Turpin.
36 The Pleasant Conceit es of
Yes truly (quoth the bayleife). Here, Maister
Hobson, sayd Ma. Fleetwood, take you this mony:
for it is your owne, and if you chance to find a
purse of five and forty pound, bring it to this
honest farmer. . That is mine, quoth the farmer :
for I lost iust forty pound. You speake to late
(quoth Maister Fleetewood). Thus the farmer lost
the mony, and maister Hobson had it according to
iustice.
21. How Maister Hobson was a iudge betwixt two
women?-
THERE dwelled not farre from Maister Hobson two
very ancient women ; the youngest of them both
was above three-score yeares of age ; and uppon a
time sitting at the taverne together, they grew at
varience which of them should be the youngest
(as women indeede desier to bee accoumpted
younger then they be) ; in such manner that they
layd a good supper, of the valew of twenty shillings,
for the truth thereof, and Maister Hobson they
agreed upon to bee their judge of the difference.
So after Maister Hobson had knowledge thereof,
the one came to him, and as a present, gave him a
(i) See Wright's Latin Stories, p. 73 (Percy Society) ; Mery Tales
and Quick Answers (1530), No. 22; and Jack of Dover, 1604, (vol. ii.
p. 334). In the last, this tale is told, with very slight variations, of " The
Foole of Lancaster."
Old Hob son the Merry Londoner. 37
very faire pidgion pye, worth some five shillings,
desiering him to pass the vardet of her side.
Within a while after, the other came, and gave
Maister Hobson a very faire grayhound, which
kind of dogges he much delighted in, praying him
likewise to be favourable on her side ; wherefore
hee gave iudgment that the woman that gave him
the grayhound was the yonger, and so she woun
the supper of twenty shillings, which she [that had
given him the pidgion -pye] perceiving, came to
him and sayd : sir, I gave you a pidgion pie, and
you promised the verdit should goe on my side.
To whom Maister Hobson said : of a truth, good
woman, there came a grayhound into my house,
and eate up the pidgion pye, and so by that
meanes I quite forgot thee.
22. Of the pride of Maister Hobsons wife.
MAISTER Hobsons wife carrying something 1 a
stately mind, and delighting in brave apparell,
upon a time walking abroad with other women her
neighbours, they espied a payre of silke stockins
upon her legges, and desiring the like, never let
their husbands to live in quiet after, til they had
silke stockins of the same fashion. So within a
(i) i.e. somewhat.
38 The Pleasant Conceites of
weeke or two following, their husbandes came
complayning to Maister Hobson, and said : sir
(quoth one of them), the sufferance of your wives
pride hath spoyled all ours : for since she hath
worne silke stockings, our wives have growne so
importunate, that they must needs have the like,
and you are the cheifest cause in suffering her to
weare the same. Oh ! my good neighbours (qd.
M. Hobson), I have great cause in doing so, and it
bringes me much quietnes. As how 1 ? (qd. one of
them). Mary, thus (neigh boures) : for, seeing I
cannot please her above the knee, I most needs
please her belowe the knee, and the only thing to
please a woman is to let her have her will. 1
2 3 . Of Maister Hobsons rewarding a poet for a
bookes dedication.
UPON a new yeares day, Maister Hobson sitting at
dinner in a poets company, or one, as you may
tearme him, a writer of histories', there came a
poore man and presented him a cople of orringes,
which hee kindly tooke as a new yeares guift, and
gave the poore man for the same an angell of gould,
and thereupon gave it 2 his wife to lay it up among
other Jewells, considering that it had likewise cost
(1) This story is taken from Jack of Dover, His Quest of Inquiry, 1604
(vol. ii. p. 316). It is there told of the " Foole of Bedford."
(2) i.e. the gift.
Old Hob son the Merry Londoner. 39
him an angel; the which she 1 did. The Poet,
siting by and marking the bounty of Ma. Hobson
for so small a matter, he went home and devised a
booke contayning forty sheets of paper, which was
halfe a yeare in writing, and came and gave it to
Maister Hobson in dedication, and thought in his
mind that he, in recompencing the poore man so
much for an orringe, would yeeld far more recom-
pence for his booke, being so long in studying.
Maister Hobson tooke the poets booke thankfully,
and perseving he did it onely for his bounty shewed
for the orring given him, willed his wife to fetch
the said oringe, which he gave to the poet, being
then almost rotten, saying : here is a Jewell which
cost me a thousand times the worth in gould ;
therefore I think thou art well satisfied for thy
bookes dedication. The poet, seing this, went his
way, all ashamed. 2
(1) Orig. reads he.
(2) In Mery Tales and Quick Answers (1530), No. 23, this story is
told of Louis XI. of France and a husbandman of Burgundy. See also
Lovelace's Poems, ed. Hazlitt, p. 229 ; and Day's Parliament of Bees,
1641, 4, Dedication. In the Pleasant Comedie of Patient Grissil, 1603 ;
Act III. Sc. i, the marquis says :
" I robb'd my wardrobe of all precious robes,
That she might shine in beauty like the sun ;
And in exchange I hang this russet gown
And this poor pitcher, for a monument
Amongst my costliest jems."
This tale reads not unlike a prank of George Peele the dramatist and
poet.
4O The Pleasant Conceites of
24. How Maister Hobson gave one of his servants
the halfe of a blind mans benefit.
MAISTER Hobson beeing still very good to poore
and most bountyfull to aged people, there came to
him usually twice or thrice a weeke a silly poore
ould blinde man to sing under his window, for the
which he continually gave him twelve pence a time.
Maister Hobson had 1 one of his servants so chorlish
and withall so covitous, that he would suffer the
blind man to come no more, unles he shard halfe
his benefit : the which the blind singing man was
forst to give, rather then to loose all. After twice
or thrice parting shares, Maister Hobson had thereof
intelligence, who, consulting with the blind man,
served his servant in this maner; [since] still he
looked for halfe whatsoever he got. So this at
last was Maister Hobsons guift, who gave com-
mandement that the blind man should have for his
singing three-score jeerkes with a good wippe, and
to be equally parted as the other guifts were ; the
which were presently given. The blinde mans were
but easie, but Maister Hobsons mans' were very
sound ones, so that every jerke drewe bloud. After
this he never sought to deminish his masters bounty. 2
(1) Orig. reads having.
(2) See Wright's Latin Stories (Percy Soc.), p. 122, and Mery Tales
and Quick Answers (1530).
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 41
25. How Maister Hobson found out the pye stealerl
IN Christmas holy-dayes, when Ma. Hobsons wife
had many pyes in the oven, one of his servants had
stole one of them out, and at the taverne had mer-
rilie eaten it. It fortund that same day some of
his friends dined with him, and one of the best
pyes were missing, the stealer whereof at after
dinner he found out in this maner. He caled all
his servants in friendly sort together into the hall,
and caused each of them to drinke one to another
both wine, ale and beare, till they were al drunke ;
then caused hee a table to be furnished with very
good cheare, whereat hee likewise pleased them.
Being set all together, he said : why sit you not
downe, fellowes ? We be set all redy, quoth they.
Nay, quoth Maister Hobson, he that stole the pye
is not set yet. Yes, that I doe (quoth he that stole
it); by which meanes he knew what was become of
the pye : for the poore fellow being drunke could
not keepe his owne secretts, 2
(1) See Doran's History of Court Fools, pp. i, 2.
(2) This is only Mery Tales and Quick A nswers, No. 85, newly applied.
See also the Philosopher's Banquet, 1614, p. 240.
42 The Pleasant Conceites of
26. Of Maister Hobson and a doctor of physicked
UPON a time, when Maister Hobson lay sicke and
in very great payne, there came unto him a Doctor
of Physicke, that tould him he could not escape,
but must needs die of that sicknes. Maister Hob-
son, a while after, not by the Doctors helpe but by
the will of God, recovered, and was whole of his
disease : yet he was very lowe, and bare brought ;
and as he walked forth on a day, he met the said
Doctor which, doubting whether it ware the sicke
man or no, sayd : are not you, Sir, the man called
Maister Hobson ? Yes, trewly (quoth he). Are
you alive or dead, sayd the Doctor. I am dead,
quoth Maister Hobson. What doe you here then,
sayde the Doctor? I am here, quoth Maister
Hobson, because I have experience in manye earthly
things, and God hath sent me to the world againe
with a commandement to take up all phisitions
that I can get, and send them thether to him ;
which saying made Maister Doctor as pale as ashes
for feare. Maister Hobson, seing this, sayd unto
him : feare not, Maister Doctor, though I said al,
phisitions : for you are none, and there is no man
(i) No. 48 of Mery Tales and Quick Answers (1530) is precisely
similar in its details.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 43
that hath witte will take you for one : therfore you
are not in my charge ; farewell.
27. How Maister Hobson answered a popish fryer.
IN the rainge of Queen Mary, when this land was
blinded with superstition, there was a Popish frier
that made an oration in the Charter-house yard,
where many formes were placed full of people to
hear the same oration, amoungst which number sat
Maister Hobson, which fryer, much extolling him
that was then Pope of Rome, comparing him to
Saint Peter, for in degree he names him above all
the holy Fathers in time past, as Doctors, Marters,
Prophets, yea and above more then prophets, lohn
Baptist. Then, in what high place, sayd the frier,
shall we place this good man ? What place, I say,
is fit for him, or where shall he sit 1 Maister Hob-
son, hearing him speake so prophanly, and sitting
amongst the audience, start * up and sayd : if thou
canst find no other, then set him here in my place :
for I am weary ; and so went his way. 2
(1) i.e. stert, the old prseterit of start.
(2) This is No. 119 of Mery Tales and Quick Answers, ed. 1567. It is
there told of a friar who preached on Saint Francis. It is not found in
edit. Berthelet.
44 The Pleasant Conceites of
28. How Maister Hob son answered Musitions.
UPON a time, Maister Hobson lying in Saint
Albones, there came certaine musitions to play at
his chamber dorre to the intent, as they filled his
ears with their musicke, he should fil their purses
with mony : where upon he had one of the servants
of the inne (that waited upon him) to goe and tell
them, that hee could not then indure to heare their
musicke, for he mourned for the death of his
mother. So the musitians, disapoynted of their
purpose, went sadly all away. The fellow, that
heard him speake of mourning, asked him how
long agoe it is since he buried his mother. Truely
(quoth Maister Hobson), it is now very neare forty
yeares agoe. The fellow, understanding his subtilty,
and how wittily he sent away the musitians, laughed
very hartely. 1
29. Of Master Hobson teaching his man to use money*
MAISTER HOBSON had a servant so covetous, and
withall so simple witted, that all the money he
(1) In Mery Tales, &c. (edits. Berthelet and Wykes), No. 77, this
anecdote is related "of the covetous ambassador who would hear no
music."
(2) No. 79 of the Mery Tales, &c. (1530), relates "how Dionysius of
Syracuse served a covetous man." The story is the same.
Old Hob son the Merry Londoner. 4$
could gather together he hid in the ground, of the
which Maister Hobson having some inteligence
fell a coniuring for it in this maner. With a good
wand he so belabored my yong man, that he pre
sently revealed where it lay, the which summe of
money Maister Hobson tooke quite away, all saving
a smale summe, the which the poore fellow put to
so good a use, in buying and selling, that in short
time he greatly increased it. When Maister Hob-
son understood what he had done, and what good
use he put his money too, [he] sayd : sirra, [since]
you can tell how to use money, and learne to make
profit thereof, I will restore to thee all againe ; and
so he did, which made the fellow ever after a good
husband. 1
30. Of Maister Hob sons sore eyes and his answer to
Phisitions?
UPON a time, when Master Hobson had sore eyes,
there came a certaine phisition to him, thinking to
have some recompence for his councell, warning
(1) Of course husband is used here in its less usual sense of economist.
In Heywood's play, Hobson is made to say :
" Men of our trade must wear good husbands' eyes ;
'Mongst many chapmen, there are few that buys."
(Act I. Sc. i.)
(2) This tale is partly copied from Mery Tales and Quick Answers
(1530), No. 88.
46 The Pleasant Conceites of
him that he should in any case forbeare drinking,
or ells by the same loose his eyes, to whom Master
Hobson sayde : it is much more pleasure for me
to loose my eyes with drinking, then to keepe them
for worms to eate them out. Another time a
phisition came to Maister Hobson and said : sir,
you looke well, and greeve at nothing and have a
healthfull countenance. True (quoth Maister Hob-
son): for I have not to doe with any phisitions, nor
with phisicke ; to whom he replied : sir, said he,
you have no cause to blame the physition, for his
phisicke never did you hurt. Thou saist true,
quoth Maister Hobson : for, if I had proved phisicke,
I had not beene now heare alive. Another phisition
came to him on a time and said : sir, you be a very
ould man. Very trew, quoth Maister Hobson : for
thou wert never my phisition. Such maner of
checkes and floutes would he stil give to them that
spoke to him of physicke : for in all his life hee
never tooke any.
3 1 . Of Maister Hobsons iest of the signe of Saint
Christopher.
MAISTER Hobson and another of his neighbours,
on a time walking to Southwarke Faire, by chance
drunke in a house, which had the signe of Sa.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 47
Christopher, of the which signe the good man of
the house gave this commendation. Saint Chris
topher (quoth he), when hee lived upon the earth,
bore the greatest burden that ever was, which was
this : he bore Christ over a river. Nay, there was
one (quoth Maister Hobson), that bore a greater
burden. Who was that (quoth the inkeeper). Mary,
quoth Maister Hobson, the asse that bore both him
and his mother. So was the Inne-keeper called
asse by craft. After this talking merely J together,
the aforsaid Inne-keeper, being a litle whitled with
drinke, and his head so giddy that he fell into the
fire, people standing by ran sodainely, and tooke
him up. Oh ! let him alone (quoth Maist. Hobson),
a man may doe what he will in his owne house,
and lie wheresoever he listeth. The man, having
little hurt, with this sight grew immediately sober,
and after foxed 2 Maister Hobson and his neigh
bour so mightely that, comming over London bridge,
being very late, [they] ranne against one of the
cheane posts, at which Maister Hobson, thinking
it to bee some man that had iustled him, drew out
his dodgion dagger, and thrust it up into the very
hillts into the hollow post; where-upon verely hee
(1) i.e. merrily.
(2) i.e. made them drunk. See Nares (edit. 1859) in voce fox, and the
examples quoted of the use of the word in this sense.
48 The Pleasant Conceites of
had thought he had kil'd some man. So riming
away, [he] was taken by the watch, and so all the
jest was discovered. 1
32. Of Maister Hobsons answer e to a messenger of
the Lord Maiors.
UPON a time, Ma. Hobson had arested one of my
L. Maiors kinsmen for a certaine det owing him ;
and [he] being in the counter, my Lord Maior sent
one of his officers for to intreat Maister Hobson to
be favorable to his kinsman, telling a long tale, and
to little purpose, whome Maister Hobson answered
in this manner : my friend (quoth he), what thou
saydst in the beginning I doe not like of, and what
was in the middle I doe not well remember, and
for thy conclution, I understand it not; and this
was all the favour Maister Hobson shewed to my
Lord Maiors kinsman.
33. How Maister Hobson bid an alderman to diner.
THIS Maister Hobson on a time had a servant that
was over full of words, and toe much talkative.
Being offended therewith, [hee] gave him still 2 in
(i) This is, singularly enough, two or three of the Mery Talcs and
Quick Answers rolled into one. See Tales No. 2 and No. 8 of that
collection. (2) Continually.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 49
charge to say nothing, and to answer to that hee
was demaunded, and no more. So upon a day
Maister Hobson made a great diner, and sent his
said servant some two dayes before to invite an
Alderman of London there-unto. So upon the
day when diner time came, all the guestes stayd
for the said Alldermans comming till two of the
clocke, and so at last Maister Hobson sayd unto
his servant : didst thou bid Maister Alderman to
diner ? Yes, truly (said he). Why cometh he not
then 1 (quoth Maister Hobson). Mary (quoth the
fellow), hee said hee could not. Why touldst thou
not me so 1 quoth Maister Hobson. Because, quoth
the fellow, you did not aske me. Here-upon
(though long first), they went all to diner, 1 and
being mery together drinking of wine, there came
in a certaine ruffen, and stole one of the fairest
sillver cupps away, the which, the fellow seing, said
never a word, but let him goe. Which when
Maister Hobson missed, he demanded of his ser
vant where it was. Sir (quoth the fellow), a theefe
came in, and stole it away. Why didst not thou
stay him ? (qd. Maister Hobson). Mary, sir (quoth
he), because he asked no question of me. After
(i) Thus far the Mery Tales, &c. No. 35. The remainder is peculiar
to the present collection, and possibly may be entitled to the merit of
originality. In Mery Tales the story is told " of the wise man Piso, and
his Servant."
5O The Pleasant Conceites of
this, Maister Hobson, noting the simplenes of his
servant, let him have his toung at free liberty.
34. How Maister Hobson grew out of love with an
image.
IN the raing of Queene Mary, when great supersti
tion was used in England, as creeping to the crosse,
worshipping of images and such like, it was Maister
Hobsons chaunce amongst other people to be in
the Church, and kneeling to an image to pray, as
it was then used, the same image by some mishapp
fell downe upon Maister Hobson, and broke his
head, upon which occation he came not thether in
halfe an yeare after; but at length by the procure
ment of his neighbours he came to the Church
againe, and because he saw his neighbours kneele
before the same image, he kneeled downe likewise,
and said thus : wel, I may cap and kneele to thee,
but thou shalt never have my heart againe so long
as I live : meaning, for the broken head it had
given him. 1
(i) A reproduction of No. 75 of Mery Tales, &c. (1530). See also
Taylor's Wit and Mirth, No. 13.
Old Hobson the Merry Londoner. 5 1
35. How Maister Hobson said he was not at home.
ON a time Master Hobson upon some ocation
came to Master Fleetewoods house to speake with
him, being then 1 new chosen the recorder of
London, and asked one of his men if he were
within, and he said he was not at home. But
Maister Hobson, perceving that his maister bad
him say so, and that he was within (not being
willing at that time to be spoken withall), for that
time desembling the matter, he went his way.
Within a few dayes after, it was Maister Fleet-
woods chaunse to come to Maister Hobson's, and
knocking at the dore, asked if he were within.
Maister Hobson, hearing and knowing how he
was denyed Maister Fleetwoods speach before
time, spake 2 himselfe aloud, and said hee was not
at home. Then sayd Maister Fleetwood : what,
Master Hobson, thinke you that I knowe not your
voyce ? Whereunto Maister Hobson answered and
said: now, Maister Fleetewood, am I quit with
(i) As Mr. Halliwe points out, Fleetwood's recordership commenced
in 1569, and therefore it might be presumed, that this story was assignable
to that period. See, however, Mery Tales and Quick Answers (1530),
No. 112, where the same anecdote is related of Scipio Nasica and Ennius
the poet. (2) Old edition has sjeake.
E*
5 2 The Pleasant Conceites of Old Hobson.
you : for when I came to speake with you, I be-
leeved your man that said you were not at home,
and now you will not beleeve mine owne selfe ; and
this was the mery conference betwixt these two
merry gentlemen.
Jpims,
CERTAYNE CONCEYTS & JEASTS.
Heereafter follow Certaine Conceyts and Jeasts, as well to
laugh downe our harder undigested Morsells, as breake vp
with myrth our Booke and Banquet, collected out of Scotus
Poggius and others.
THE title here copied occurs at p. 239 of a scarce volume
entitled The Philosophers Banquet ; London, Printed by T. C.
for Leonard Becket, 1614, 8. The Second Edition. The
First Edition appeared in 1609, 8, with a much less ample
title, and a third was published in 1633. These " Conceyts
and Jeasts" form the concluding portion of the work, and
although they possess no striking merit, the Editor thought
it desirable to render them accessible, and at the same time
make the present collection more complete.
HEEREAFTER FOLLOW certaine
Conceyts & leasts ; as well to laugh
downe our harder vndigested Mor-
sells, as breake vp with myrth
our Booke and Banquet.
Collected out of SCOTVS
PocGivSj and
others.
1. A CERTAYNE Poore-man met king Phillip, &
besought him for something, because he was his
kinsman. The king demanded fro whence de
scended. Who answered : from Adam. Then the
K. commaunded an Almes to be giuen. Hee re-
plyed, an Almes was not the gift of a king; to
whome the king answered : if I should so reward
all my kindred in that kinde, I should leaue but
little for myselfe. 1
2. A certaine lewe vpon their Saturday or
Saboth was fallen into a Ditch. A Christian, pass
ing by and seeing him there, came vnto him to
haue pulled him out ; but the lewe answered,
their Sabaoth was not to be violated.
(i) This is No. 86 of Mery Tales andQuicke Answeres.
4 Certayne Conceyts and Jeasts.
Vppon the morrow the Christian passing by
againe, the lewe cryed vnto him, that hee would
now helpe him out ; vnto whome hee answered :
this is nowe my Sabaoth, and must not be broken ;
and so left him.
3. A certaine Thiefe had stollen the Goose of
a poore woman ; and when vpon the Sabaoth the
priest, admonishing his parishioners thereof, com-
maunded them all to sit downe, they 1 answered :
we all sit downe.
No (quoth he), you sit not all downe : for hee
that stoale the Goose sitteth not. Who answered
rashly ; but I doe. To whom the priest answered :
thou shalt presently restore her againe, or I will
excommunicate thee. 2
4. A certaine Player, being vpon the Sea in a
Tempest, beganne very greedily to eate salte
Meates, saying, that he feared hee should haue
too much drinke to digest them.
5. An other man beeing vppon the Sea (in a
great Tempest, and daunger of Ship-wracke), was
commaunded to cast something foorth that might
best be spared, to lighten the burthen of the
(1) Old edition has who.
(2) See No. 85 of Mery Tales andQuicke Answeres.
Certayne Conceyts and Jeasts. 5
Shippe. Who answered, hee would caste out his
wife. 1
6. A certaine Player beeing sicke, and lying
vppon his Death-bedde, the Priest came vnto him,
and exhorted him to make his Will, which he said
he would most willingly and quickly doe : for
(quoth hee) I haue nothing but two Geldings to
dispose, and I bequeath and giue them to the
Knightes and Barons of the Land.
And when the Priest asked him, why hee gaue
them not rather to the poore, he answered : I
doe as you teach vs, to be imitators of God ; and
hee hath giuen all to the Rich, and nothing to
[the] poore, and therefore I will follow him, in
doing the like.
7. A certaine Ladie commended a knight ex
ceedingly for his excellent actiuitie and behauiour,
in Torney and Tilte, and at the ende of his course
(being very desirous to see and salute him), he
proued to be her Husband ; and then shee cared
not, nor liked him so well.
8. It is saide that there are foure kinde[s] of
Fooles : amongst all other as chiefe, the first, that
threatens so long, that no man feares him : the
(i) See Tarltoris Jests, vol. ii. p. 234.
6 Certayne Conceyts and Jeasts.
second, that sweares so much, that no man belieues
him : the third, that giues so much that he keeps
nothing for himselfe : the fourth, that when hee
hath no other to serue, refuseth to serue himselfe.
9. There was a certaine Foole, that alwayes,
when the Sun shone, would weepe, and when the
Raine rained, would laugh; and his reason was,
because after Sunne-shine followed Raine, but
after Raine, Sunne-shine; which alludeth to the
Prouerbe : Tempestas sequitur Serenum.
10. A certaine Rusticall clown e came to an
Arch-Deakon, and tolde him he had marryed a
Woman which was poore, but heertofore had
bene rich; and, asking his aduise, if he might
not put her away and marry a Richer, [he] was
answered, he might not ; vnto whom this clowne
replied : why, Syr, you haue put away your poore
benefice, and taken a Richer.
11. A certayne meane Priest had a Concubine,
and the Arch-Deacon, vnderstanding thereof, com-
maunded that hee should eyther forsake his Con
cubine, or the Church ; and he forsooke the
Church and kept his concubine ; 1 and afterwards
his Concubine forsooke him, because he could not
keepe her.
i) See the Jests oj Scogin, vol. ii. p. 80.
Certayne Conceyts and Jests. 7
1 2. A poore olde woman being sicke and weake,
bequeathed after her death to the Priest her
Henne, because shee had nothing more. Now
the priest came and tooke her away, shee yet
liuing. (Quoth shee) nowe I perceyue, that our
priest is worse than the Diuell, because I haue
oftentimes bid the Diuell take her, and the Foxe
take her : yet still I had her, but the Priest not.
13. A certaine olde woman, being almost blinde,
agreed with a Physition to helpe her, which com-
ming vnto her, and rinding much Houshold-stuffe
that shee had, euery time that he drest her, he
tooke something away, vntill at last he left nothing
but the empty house. Now the woman at last
recouering her sight, finding her house empty, and
her goods conuayde away, would not giue the Phy
sition his hyre, who therefore brought her before
the ludge, to whome shee pleaded, that she was
not perfectly cured, but that she saw lesse then
before ; because before she saw many things in
her house, where now she could see nothing at all. 1
14. Aristotle demaunded of one, why hee, being
a man of so large a stature and bodie, would be
marryed to a woman so small and vnanswereable
(i) See Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres, No. 89.
8 Certayne Conceyts and J easts.
therevnto as hee was. To which he replyed :
Since that I was to make choyce out of thinges
that were euill, I thought it most wisedome to
choose the least. 1
15. A certaine boysterous Rusticke, yet prompt
and conceyted, trauelling on the way with a long
pike-Staffe on his necke, was suddenly and furi
ously assaulted by a great Mastiue-Dogge, which
came vpon him with open mouth and violence, as
if hee would at once deuoure him.
Who presently, to withstand the daunger by
Rescue of himselfe, runnes the pike and sharpe
ende of his staffe into his throate, wherevppon
hee presently dyed. Which the Owner thereof
seeing, comes eagerly vnto him, and betweene
threatning and chyding asked him, why hee
strooke him not rather with the blunte ende of
his staffe. Why, Syr (quoth hee), because your
dogge ranne not at me with his tayle.
1 6. A certaine poore man came into a Barbers
shoppe, and desired to be shauen for Gods-sake,
because he had no money ; which the Barber per
formed, but with so great inclemencie, that at
euery stroke hee fetched Teares from his eyes,
making him to crye out pittifullie.
(i) See ,4 CMery Talys, No. 61.
Certayne Conceyts and J easts. 9
In the meane time, a Dogge comes crying into
the shoppe, beaten out of the kitchin ; which this
poore man seeing, noting another to partake of his
miserie, said vnto him : art thou likewise shauen
for Gods-sake ?
17. A certaine vain-glorious Souldyer bragged,
in all places where he came, of 9 kings that he
had of his kindred ; & going about to name them,
could recko but 6. A player standing by told
him he knew the rest : [for they were] the 3 Kings
of Calient
1 8. A certaine Souldyer, ordaining a Feast,
caused a Priest to wash first ; to whd[m] the priest
said : we wash first, but sit downe last. The Morall
of that, saide the Souldier, is, you should be first
cleane, and last drunke.
19. One, buying a Horse, would know of the
seller, if he were worth his money. Who answered
he was. He then demanded of him, why he solde
him. He answered : because I am poore, and he
eateth ouermuch. Hath he not (quoth hee) no
euill condition ? He answered : not, but that he
will not climbe Trees.
Now this chapman, hauing bought him, and
(i) . e of Cologne
io Certayne Conceyts and Jests.
brought him home, hee bitte all that came neere
him. (Quoth hee) the fellowe told me true : for he
saide, he would eate ouer-much ; and afterwards
comming to a woodde bridge, he would by no
meanes goe ouer, which he likewise noting, sayd :
truly, he doth not climbe Trees. 1
20. A certaine Priest, hauing shewed the hay-
nousnesse of Vsurie, his Sermon being ended, [and]
comming to Absolution, he commanded that euery
one should stand vp in theyr turnes, to receyue
theyr Blessings, as they were called. First (sayd he)
let Smithes arise ; which [they] hauing done, and
receyued theyr Blessings, sate downe agayne.
Then hee saide to the Drapers : arise ; and so to
the rest. Afterwardes (he sayde), let Vsurers arise
to their benediction. And when none stood vp
(although there were many there), these men (qd.
the Priest) how will they appeare in the day of
ludgmeni, to receyue their euerlasting Malediction,
which dare not appeare before men, to receyue
theyr benediction?
21. A certaine vsurer of Mentz, drawing neare
vnto his Death, bound his Friendes by oath, that
in his graue they should put a purse full of Money,
(i) This is one of the Jests of Howleglas or Owleglas. See edition
ackenzie, No. 93.
Certayne Conceyts and J easts. 1 1
vnder his head ; which [was] done accordingly. His
sepulcher [being] afterwards opened, that it might
bee taken out, there was scene a Diuell powring
melting golde downe his throat with a ladle.
22. A certaine Thiefe meeting a Priest in a
wood, sayde : I would be confest, because to-day
passing here-through, I met an other priest, from
whome I haue taken his horse; for which I ask
thee to enioyne me penance. Giue mee (saith the
Priest) fiue shillings for the celebrating of your
Masse. The Thiefe bethinking himselfe, gaue
vnto him ten. Beholde (quoth he), heere is fiue
shill : for that horse which I tooke from him, and
fiue shil : likewise for this horse, which I will take
from thee ; and so, since you make so faire a
Market, absolue me for both together.
23. A certaine player, seeing Thieues in his
house in the night, thus laughingly sayde : I knowe
not what you will finde here in the dark, when I
can find nothing my selfe in the light.
24. One asked a prostitute Ladie of Florence,
how her children so likely resembled her husband
Agrippa, shee so vsually commercing with others.
Who answered : I suffer no other to bourde my
Shippe, before her Carriage be full. Guicch :
1 2 Certayne Conceyts and J easts.
25. A certaine man followed his wife to Con
fession, who, when the priest had inioyned her
pennance, tooke her behind the Altar to inflict it,
which her husband seeing, said : good sir, she is
very tender, let me receyue it for her ; when the
wife, beeing prostrate there, saide : I will suffer for
myselfe; Strike harde: for I am a grieuous sinner.
26. Boetius in his booke, De Discipline Scholast:
relateth of a certaine youth which, not brideled in
his younger yeares by his parents, nor corrected for
his petty introductions to Thieuerie : at last, through
greater liberty and offence was convicted and con
demned to dye. Being brought to the Gallowes,
(espying his Father) he desired tokisse him before his
death, which admitted to doe, he bitte off his nose,
because he corrected him not in his childehood.
27. A certaine old woman, as mistrustfull as
couetous, hidde vnder her seate in the church 20.
pounds ; which the clarke, thereof vnderstanding,
had stollen away, which this woman comming
afterwards, and finding not there, suspecting im
mediately which way it should be gone, as also
contriuing how it might be recouered, she com
manded her Giiyde, that was to leade her amongst
the Officers of the Church, to take speciall notice
if any one laughed, or changed his countenance
Certayne Conceyts and J easts. 13
more then other, when they sawe her approache, to
him to conduct her ; which was done accordingly,
and falling out to the Clarke, to him shee> was
brought. To who she thus said : good sir, I am a
weake and blinde woman, expecting euery day to
dye, and for the good opinion I haue of you, who
I intend shall celebrate my Obsequie, I imparte
this Secrecie vnto you, that, vnder my seate in the
Church, I haue (as in a sure place,) put 20. pound,
which euery day I intend to increase, and at my
death to leaue it to you. Thus hauing said, with
thanks from him she departed ; and hee likewise,
for his better Vsurie and increase, to reprieue the
money to her former keeper : which being done,
shee returns the next morning and fetches it clean
away, and so deceiued the deceiuer.
28. A certaine Bishop, hauing preached of the
humilitie of Christ, and his lowlinesse in ryding
on an Asse : his Sermon being ended, and he
mounted vppon his palfrey, a certaine old woman
came vnto him, and tooke him by the brydle,
saying : I pray you sir, is this the Asse that Christ
rode vpon 1
29. On a time, certaine lame men assembled
to a Church, there to be cured by a holy Priest,
and would not be expulsed : which seeing, the
3- F
14 Certayne Conceyts and J easts.
priest sayde vnto them : giue me all your staues,
and it shall be done. Who asked, to what ende.
Why (quoth hee), they shall make a Fire, in the
which the most lamest of all shall be burned, and
with the ashes of him shall all the rest be cured ;
which hearing, forgetting their lamenes, they ran
all away.
30. Q. Eliz: on a time in her progresse, comming
to Couentrie, the Mayor and Alderme meeting her
at the townes-end, as it fortuned, in a water, the
Maiors horse euer proffered to drinke, which he,
by keeping vp his raines, suffered not. The Qu:
perceiuing asked him why hee let not his horse
drinke. Who answered, it was not fitting for his
horse to drinke before her Maiesties ; whereat she,
smiling, gaue the raines to her steed ; but he refused.
Why by this (quoth she), M. Mayor, wee see the Pro-
uerbe verified : A man may bring his horse to the
water , but he will choose whether he will drinke.
31. One asked a Paynter why, seeing that he
could drawe such excellent proportions, hee begote
such deformed children. Hee answered : I drawe
at the one in the Day, but I worke at the other in
the Night.
32. A certaine Husband-man, with great coste,
Certayne Conceyts and J easts. 1 5
had kept his Sonne to the schoole, that he might
be instructed with knowledge and learning ; who,
after the expence of much time and Money, re
turned home to his Father, full fraught with
learning (as he supposed) when suddenly, to
manifest himselfe vpon the first occasion, seeing
at supper 3. Egges to be set vpon the table : who
ist (quoth he) in all this parish, besides my selfe,
that can approoue with plaine arguments in 3.
egges 5. to be contained ? To whom his Father
sayd : thou proposest an impossible thing : yet
let me see how thou vndertakest to prooue it.
Then his sonne began like a sophyster to argue.
Hath not he that hath 3. egges, 2. egges, & so
hauing 2. & 3. hath 5. True (saith his father),
Judging his vaine Arte worth a vaine reward :
therfore take thou the 2. eggs that thy art hath
brought foorth : for I will take these 3. that the
henne hath layde.
33. A certaine conceyted Traueller being at a
Banquet, where chanced a flye to fall into his
cuppe, which hee (being to drinke) tooke out for
himselfe, and afterwards put in againe for his
fellow : being demanded his reason, answered,
that for his owne part he affected them not, but
it might be some other did.
1 6 Certayne Conceyts and J easts.
There is extant to this least, an Epigram of
Syr Thomas Moores, which I haue here in
serted, as followeth :
Muscas e Cratere tulit Conuiua, priusqua
Ipse Mbit : reddit rursus vt ipse bibit;
Addidit et causam ; muscas ego non amo, dixit;
Sed tamen e vobis nescio an quis amat.
Which I English thus :
Out of his Glasse, one tooke a Flye,
In earnest or in ieast
I cannot tell; but hauing drunke,
Returned it to the rest.
And for hee would offencelesse seeme,
Hee shewed his reason too :
Although I loue them not my selfe,
It may bee some heere doo.
34. The friends of a certaine widdow being a
queene, 1 gaue her counsell to imitate the example
of the Turtle : hauing lost her mate, to mourne and
sorrowe for a time, before she imbraced any other
husband ; to whom she answered : why doe you
propose the example of the Turtle to me ? if I
were pleased to imitate birdes, I would rather take
vnto me the example of the sparrow.
(i) i. e. a quean.
Certayne Conceyts and J easts. 1 7
35. Likewise a certaine merry wench, being
taught by a Poetaster that sometimes at his
leasure would recite metamorphoses, as how the
kings fisher was changed into a bird, 1 the sisters of
Meleager into Meliagri birdes : 2 the Daughters
of Pyerias into Pies, Progne into a Swallow ; and
others of that kind ; when vnimagined the wench
demaunded of him that, if she were to choose a
metamorphosis out of two, the goose or the henne,
whether 3 he thought she would incorporate. Who
answered, the Goose, because she should still keepe
her head aloft. Nay (qd. she), rather the Hen, be
cause she knowes her daily venery, whereas the
Goose but onely the spring.
36. Johannes Andreas, a noble lawyer, in the
proheme of his 6. booke of Decretalls, reporteth
of one lames de Castello, a Bononian, sent
Embassador to Pope Boniface 8. B. of Rome,
being a man of eminent knowledge and learning,
but of exceeding little stature, insomuch that,
(1) The author appears to have had a rather dim notion on the subject
of mythological lore. He here alludes to the legend of Ceyx and Al
cyone, who were changed by Jupiter, as a punishment for their pride,
into birds he, into a sea-gull (not a king-fisher), and she, into a halcyon
(d\Kviav), also a species of gull.
(2) Meleagrida:, a sort of fowl, belonging to the same class as the
turkey.
(3) i. e. which of the two.
1 8 Certayne Conceyts and J easts.
deliuering his Embassage, the Pope, imagining
that hee kneeled on his knees, made vnto him
long action with his Hand, that he should rise
vppe ; vntill one of his Cardinalles gaue him to
vnderstand, that hee was a certaine Zacheus.
37. A certaine couetous suspicious Vsurer,
hauing Receyued a summe of Money, committed
it to the custodye of his mans-hose ; who notwith
standing iealous of ^loosing that he neuer looked
off (as if he feared the Diuell would carry it away),
still questioned his Man, as hee followed his heeles,
with Roger, hast thou the same still 1 Yea (saith
hee). I pray thee put thy hands in thy pocket and
feele j which Roger so did, and had it. Shortly
after, it happened (as a plague for his iealousie,)
certaine Thieues set vppon them, and robbed
them of it, bound them hand and foote, and so
departed their way. Where hauing layne some
little time, this olde Myser, somewhat rowsing
vppe himselfe with his former comfort, saith to
his man : Roger, thou hast not the same still : and
he answered No. He willed him to put his hands
in his pocket and feele ; but Rogers hands were
bound, and he could not.
TAYLOR'S WIT AND MIRTH.
Wit and Mirth. Chargeably Collected Ovt of Taverns,
Ordinaries, Innes, Bowling-Greenes and Allyes, Ale
houses, 1 Tobacco-shops, Highwayes, and Water-
passages. Made vp, and fashioned into Clinches,
Bulls, Quirkes, Yerkes, Quips, and Jerkes. Apo-
thegmatically bundled vp and garbled- at the request
of old John Garretts 2 Ghost.
Dedicated
To the truely Loyall harted, learned, well accomplished
Gentleman, Master Archibold Rankin.
Sir, Being enioyned by the Ghost or Genious of old
John Garret (a man well known and beloved} to collect ',
gleane, or gather, a bundle or trusse of mirth, and for
his sake to bestrow the stage of the melancholly world
with it; and withall to present it to some one generous
spirit, who was old Johns friend; I thought vpon many
to whom I might haue made my Dedication, who were
both Roy all, Honourable, Worshipfull, and all well-
affected towards him. As to mention one for all, that
Jewell of the world, and richest Jem of her sex, that
Magazine of the two inestimable Jewels, Patience and
Fortitude ; to that illustrious, peerelesse Princesse I
(1) Taverns and pot-houses supplied Taylor, no doubt, with a large
proportion of his matter for the Wit and Mirth. See The Young
Gallants Whirligig, 1629, by F. Lenton (Halliwell's repr. p. 126), and
Heywood's Fair Mayd of the Exchange, 1607 (Shakesp. Soc. ed. p. 50).
(2) See Wits Recreations, 1640 (repr. 1817, p. 226) ; and Marriage of
Wit and Wisdom, &c. (Shakesp. Soc. ed. p. 86).
Introduction. 3
might have recommended it, to whose seruice, and for
whose happinesse, his life and best endeauours, with his
prayers and implorations at his death, were vnfainedly
consecrated. But my manners conceiuing the subject
of this Booke, of altogether to triuiall a nature, to be
sheltred "under the shadow of the wings of transcendent
and admired majesties I stept so many steps downe the
staires with my inuention, where by good fortune I
met with you, whom I knew did loue that old honest
mirrour of mirth, deceased; and whom the world
better knows, are a true deuoted 'friend to honest harme-
lesse mirth, and laudable recreation.
I therefore entreat you, that (when your more serious
affaires will permit] you would bestow the looking
upon these my poore and beggarly wardrobe of witty
Jests, whom I dare not call Apothegmes.
And because I had many of them by relation and
heare-say, I am in doubt that some of them may be in
print in some other A uthors, which I doe assure you is
more than I doe know ; which if it be so, I pray you
but to conniue or tollerate, and let the Authors make
twice as bold with me at any time.
Thus wishing euery one to mend one whereby the
rent and torn garments of Thred-bare Time may be
well and merrily patched and repaired, crauing your
pardon, with my best wishes, I remain,
Yours euer in the best of my best studies hereof,
JOHN TAYLOR.
4 Introduction
The preceding inscription to Archibald Rankin with
the Poem called " John Garret's Ghost," is taken from
Taylor's Works, 1630, folio, which has also been
adopted as the text of the Wit and Mirth. Five years
later, appeared an edition of the latter, with some
omissions, under the following title : " Wit and Mirth,
being 113 pleasant Tales and witty Jests," Lond. 1635,
8vo. In the folio there are 138 articles, exclusively of
other incidental matter. 1
Taylor's Wit and Mirth deserves, on the whole, to
be considered one of the best collections of this kind
ever published. Many of the anecdotes are peculiarly
racy and droll, without being offensive, and the greater
part relate to persons who lived in or about the period
of the compiler. On the other hand, a few of the stories
partake of the grossness incidental to this class of lite
rature, and two or three were deemed by the Editor so
totally unsuited for publication at the present day, that
he has taken the liberty of expunging them. In all
other respects, the text is exactly the same as it
stands in the folio of 1630. With the exception of the
Life of Old Parr, 1635, and the Relation of a Journey
into Wales, &c. 1652, 4, none of Taylor's pieces
has hitherto been reprinted. Some years ago, a
TAYLOR CLUB was projected for this purpose ; but,
probably from want of encouragement, the scheme
(i) Other editions formerly existed, and, indeed, may still exist. In
" An Advertisement of Books, Printed for, and sold by F. Coles, T. Vere,
and J. Wright," on the last page of the History of Montelion, Knight
of the Oracle, 1673, 4, occurs "Witt and Mirth, by J. Taylor, in 8."
Introduction. 5
was unfortunately abandoned. The 8vo. of 1635 I have
not seen.
Taylor the Water-Poet was one of the favourite
authors of Robert Southey, who has given an account
of his life and writings in his Uneducated Poets,
and has quoted him largely in his Common-Place
Book.
John Garret, at the request of whose ghost the Water-
Poet professes to have formed the present collection,
was a jester of the period, mentioned by Bishop Corbet
and others. Heylin, author of the Cosmography, speaks
of "Archy's bobs, and Garrets sawcy jests." In his
dedication of the Wit and Mirth, Taylor alludes to
Garret as " that old honest mirrour of mirth deceased."
Taylor, to forestal possible cavils at his plagiarisms
from others, or adoption of good sayings already pub
lished and well-known, expressly says in the dedication :
" Because I had many of them [the jests] by relation
and heare-say, I am in doubt that some of them may
be in print in some other Authors, which I doe assure
you is more then I doe know."
Introduction.
THE doores and windowes of the Heauens were barr'd,
And Nights blacke Curtaine, like a Ebon Robe,
From Earth did all Celestiall light discard,
And in sad darknesse clad the ample Globe ;
Dead midnight came, the Cats' gan catterwaule,
The time when Ghosts and Goblings walke about :
Bats flye, Owles shriek, and dismall Dogs do bawle,
Whiles conscience cleare securely sleeps it out.
At such a time I sleeping in my bed,
A vision strange appear' d vnto my sight ;
Amazement all my senses ouer spread,
And fill'd me full with terrour and afright.
A merry graue aspect me thought he had,
And one he seem'd that I had often scene :
Yet was he in such vncouth shape yclad,
That what he was, I could not wistly weene.
His cloake was Sack, but not the Sacke of Spaine,
Canara, Mallago, or sprightfull Shery,
But made of Sack-cloth, such as beares the graine,
Good salt, and coles, which makes the Porters weary ;
Lac'd round about w r ith platted wheaten straw,
For which he nothing to the Silke-man owed :
A wearing neuer mentione'd in the Law,
And yet, far off, like good gold lace it show'd.
Lin'd was his mantle with good Essex plush,
Pyde Calues skins, or Veale sattin, which you will:
It neuer was worne threedbare with a brush,
It (naturally) sau'd the labour still.
A hat like Grantham steeple : for the crowne
Or Piramide was large in Altitude :
With frugall brim, whereby he still was knowne
From other men amongst a multitude.
Introduction.
A Princes shooe he for a Jewell wore,
Two ribbonds, and a feather in his beauer,
Which shape me thought I oft had scene before ;
Yet out of knowledge where, as't had bin neuer.
He in his hand a flaming torch did hold,
And as he neerer did approach to me,
My hayre 'gan stand on end ; feare struck me cold ;
Feare not, I am John Garrets Ghost, quoth he ;
I come to rowze thy dull and lazy Muse
From idlenesse, from Lethe's hatefull lake :
And therefore stand vpon no vaine excuse,
But rise, and to thy tooles thy selfe betake.
Remember me, although my carkasse rot,
Write of me, to me, call me Foole or Jester ;
But yet I pray the (Taylor) ranke me not
Amongst those knaues that doe the world bepester ;
Thou wrot'st of great O- Toole and Coriat,
Of braue Sir Thomas Parsons, Knight o' the Sun ;
And Archy hath thy verse to glory at,
And yet for me thou nought hast euer done.
Write that in Ireland I, in Mars his trayne,
Long time did vnder noble Norris serue ;
Where (as I could) I stood 'gainst Pope and Spaine,
Whilst some were slaine, and some w th want did starue ;
Where shot, and wounds, and knocks I gaue and tooke,
Vntill at last, halfe maimed as I was,
A man decrepit, I those warres forsooke,
And (with my Passe) did to my country passe ;
Where getting health I then shooke hands with death.
And to the Court I often made resort,
When Englands mighty Queene Elizabeth
Allow'd me entertainment for disport ;
Then by the foretop did I take old time :
Then were not halfe so many fooles as now ;
Then was my haruest, and my onely prime,
8 Introduction.
My purse receiuing what my wit did plow.
Then in such compasse I my jests would hold,
That though I gaue a man a gird or twaine,
All his reuenge would be to giue me gold,
With commendations of my nimble braine.
Thus liu'd I, till that gracious Queene deceast,
Who was succeeded by a famous King,
In whose blest Sons reigne (I with yeeres opprest)
Me to my graue sicknesse and death did bring.
And now (kind Jacke) thou seest my ayrie forme
Hath shaken off her jayle of flesh and bone ;
Whilest they remaine the feast of many a worme
My better part doth visit thee alone.
And as betweene vs still, our good requests,
Thou neuer me, I neuer thee, deny'd :
So for my sake collect some merry jests,
Whereby sad time may be with mirth supply' d.
And when 'tis written, find some good man forth,
One (as thou think' st) was, when I liu'd, my friend ;
And though thy lines may be but little worth,
Yet vnto him my duty recommend,
So farewell, Jacke, dame Luna 'gins to rise ;
The twinkling stars begin to borrow light ;
Remember this my suit, I thee aduise,
And so once more, good honest Jacke good night.
With that, more swifter then a shaft from bow,
He cut and curried through the empty ayre,
Whilest I, amaz'd with feare, as could as snow,
Straight felt my spirits quickly to repayre.
And though I found it but a dreame indeed :
Yet for his sake of whom I dreamed then,
I left my bed, and cloath'd my selfe with speed,
And presently betooke me to my pen.
Cleere was the morne, and Phoebus lent me light,
And (as it followeth) I began to write.
it an!j
MYSELFE caried an old fellow by water, that had
wealth enough to be Deputy of the Ward, and wit
sufficient for a Scauenger ; the water being some
what rough, hee was much afraid, and (in stead of
saying his prayers,) he threatned me, that if I did
drowne him, hee would spend a hundred pound,
but hee would see me hanged for it ; I desired him
to be quiet and feare nothing, and so in little space
I landed him at the Beares Colledge on the Bank-
side, alias Paris Garden. Well (said he), I am glad
I am off the water : for, if the boat had miscaried, I
could have swum no more than a Goose.
AN old Painter (at the repairing of a Church) was
writing sentences of Scripture vpon the wals; by
chance, a friend of mine came into the Church, and
reading them, perceived much false English. Old
io Taylors Wit and Mirth.
man, said my friend, why doe you not write true
English ? Alas, Sir (quoth the Painter), they are
poore simple people in this Parish, and they wil
not goe to the cost of it 1
(3-)
Two men being sate at a Table, one against the
other : the one of them, hauing a cup in his hand,
dranke to the other, saying : here, Opposite, I will
drinke to you. Opposite ! said the other (being
angry), what is that? I would not have thee put
any of thy nicknames upon me : for thou shalt well
know that I am no more opposite then thy selfe,
or the skin betweene thy browes.
(4.)
A WEALTHY Monsieur in France (hauing profound
reuenues and a shallow braine) was told by his
man that he did continually gape in his sleepe \ at
which he was angry with his man, saying, hee would
not beleeue it. His man verified it to be true ; his
master said that hee would neuer beleeue any that
told him so, except (quoth hee) I chance to see it
with mine owne eyes ; and therefore I will have a
great Looking glasse hanged at my beds feet for
the purpose, to try whether thou art a lying knaue
or not.
(i) See Additional Notes.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 1 1
(5.)
THE said Monsieur commanded his man to buy
him a great Hat with a button in the brim to button
it vp behind ; his man bought him one, and brought
him. He put it on his head with the button before,
which when he looked in the glasse and saw, he
was very angry, saying: thou crosse vntoward
knaue, did I not bid thee buy a hat with the button
to hold it vp behind, and thou hast brought me one
that turnes vp before ? I command thee once more
goe thy wayes, and buy mee such a one as I would
have, whatsoever it cost me.
(6.)
This anecdote has been suppressed for an obvious reason.
AN exceeding tall Gentlewoman was riding behinde
a very short little man, so that the mans head
reached no higher then her breast ; which the afore
said Monsieur perceiuing said : Madam, you will
ride a great deale better, if you put your legge ouer
that same pummell of your saddle.
Another time he chanced to meet a Lady of his
acquaintance, and asked her how shee did, and how
her good husband fared ; at which word she wept,
3- G
12 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
saying, that her Husband was in heauen. In heauen,
quoth he ; it is the first time that I heard of it, and
I am sorry for it with all my heart.
(8.)
ONCE the said Monsieur saw a fellow that had a
Jack-Daw to sell. Sirra, quoth he, what wilt thou
take for thy Daw ? Monsieur (said the fellow), the
price of my Daw is two French Crownes. Where
fore, said the other, dost thou aske so much for
him 1 The fellow replied, that the Daw could speak
French, Italian, Spanish, Dutch and Latine : all
which tongues hee will speake after he is a little
acquainted in your Lordships house. Well, quoth
he, bring thy Daw in, and there is thy money. In
conclusion, Jack-Daw (after a moneth or fiue weekes
time), neuer spake otherwise than his fathers speech,
KaWj Kaw : whereat the Monsieur said, that the
Knaue had cozened him of his money; but it is
no great matur ; there is no loste in it : for, quoth
he, though my Daw doe not speake, yet I am in
good hope that he thinks the more.
(9.)
ANOTHER time hee commanded his man to buy
some sweet thing to burn in his Chamber : for (quoth
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 1 3
he) my Chamber stinkes most odoriferously. His
man brought Frankincense in a paper ; and as hee
was going for fire, his master tasted of it, and finding
it sticke in his teeth, and relish very bitter, he called
his man cozening knaue, that would bring him such
bitter trash for his money ; and straightwayes com
manded him to buy a pound of the best Sugar,
and burne it straight to sweeten and perfume his
Chamber.
(10.)
THIS Gallant in his youth was much addicted to
dicing, and many times when he had lost all his
money, then hee would pawne his cloake, and so
goe home without either cloake or coyne, which
grieued the Lady his mother very much ; for remedy
whereof she caused all his doublets (of what stuffe
soeuer) to be made with canuasse painted backs,
whereon was fashioned two fooles, which caused
the Gentleman euer after to keepe his cloake on
his back, for feare two of the three should be
discouered.
Will Backstead the Haier 1 cast his Chamber-lye
(i) Respecting William Backstead, or Barkstead, see Collier's Memoirs
of the Principal Actors in Shakespeare's Plays, 1846, p. xxx. and note.
Gz
14 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
out of his window in the night, which chanced to
light vpon the heads of the watch passing by ; who
angerly said : who is that offers vs this abuse 1 Why,
quoth Will, who is there ? Who is here? said one of
the pickled watchmen; we are the Watch. The
Watch ! quoth William ; why, my friends, you know ;
Harme watch, harme catch.
(12.)
A CARDINALL of Rome had a goodly faire house
new built, but the broken brickes, tiles, sand, lime,
stones, and such rubbish as are commonly the rem
nants of such buildings, lay confusedly in heapes,
and scattered here and there. The Cardinall de
manded of his Suruayor, wherefore the rubbish was
not conueyed away. The Suruayor said, that he
purposed to hyre an hundred carts for the purpose.
The Cardinall replyed, that the charge of carts might
be saued, for a pit might bee digged in the ground
and bury it. My lord, said the Suruayor, I pray
you what shall wee doe with the earth which we
digge out of the said pit 1 Why, you horseson
Coxcombe, said the Cardinall, canst thou not dig
the pit deepe enough, and bury all together.
Barkstead published in 1607, 8, Myrrha, the Mother of Adonis, orLusfs
Prodigies, a Poem, and in 1611, 8, Hirem> or the Fair Greek, a Poem.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 1 5
(13.)
A POORE Country man, 1 praying deuoutly super
stitious before an old Image of S. Loy, 2 the Image
suddenly fell downe vpon the poore man, and
bruised his bones sorely, that hee could not stirre
abroad in a moneth after; in which space the
cheating Priests had set vp a new Image. The
Country man came to the Church againe, and
kneeled a farre off to the new Image, saying :
Although thou smilest and lookest faire upon me : yet
thy father plaid me such a knauish pranke lately,
that He beware how I come too neere thee, lest thou
shouldest have any of thy Fathers unhappy qualities.
A LADY, hauing beene ten yeeres in suite of Law,
had a triall at last, where the Judgement went on
her side ; whereupon she would presently express
her joy by inuiting some of her neerest tenants and
neighbours to supper ; amongst whom was a plaine
downe-right country Yeoman, to whom the Lady
(1) See No. 75 of Mery Tales and Quicke Answers, ed. Berthelet
(1530). The story is found in other jest-books before Taylor's time. See
the Pleasant Conceits ofOldHobson, 1607. Old Edition has may.
(2) S. Loy was the patron of smiths :
" Am I past shame, thou peeld apish boy?
Thou malapert knave, controlest thou me ?
Thou shalt fare the worsse, I swere by Saint Loy."
The Book in Meeter of Robin Conscience.
1 6 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
said : Tenant, I thinke I have tickled my Adversary
now, though it were long first; I trow hee will make
no hags of his medling with mee. The honest
Yeoman replyed: Truly, Madam, I did euer think
what it would come to at last : for I knew, when
he first medled with your Lady-ship, that hee had a
wrong Sow by the eare. 1
ONE asked a fellow, what Westminster-Hall was
like. Marry, quoth the other, it is like a Butlers
Box at Christmas amongst gamesters : for whoso-
euer loseth, the Box will bee sure to bee a winner.
(16.)
A PROPER Gentlewoman went to speak with a rich
Mizer that had more gowt than good manners. At
her taking leaue, hee requested her to taste a cup
of Canara. Shee (contrary to his expectation)
tooke him at his word, and thanked him. He
commanded Jeffrey Starueling his man to wash a
glasse, and fill it to the Gentlewoman. Honest
Jeffrey fil'd a great glasse about the bigness of two
Taylors thimbles, and gave it to his master, who
kist it to save cost, and gaue it to the Gentlewoman,
(i) This anecdote is found in some modern collections (see the Complete
London Jester, ed. 1771), and the same remark applies, of course, to
many others which occur in the Wit and Mirth,
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 17
saying that it was good Canara of six yeeres old at
the least; to whom shee answered (seeing the
quantitie so small) : sir, as you requested me, I have
tasted your wine ; but I wonder that it should be so
little, being of such a great age. 1
(17.)
A SOULDIER vpon his march found a horse-shooe,
and stucke it at his girdle, where, passing through a
wood, some of the enemy lay in ambush, and one
of them discharged his musket, and the shot by
fortune light against the fellowes horse-shooe. A
ha ! qd. he, I perceiue that little armour will serue
a mans turne, if it be put on in the right place.
(18.)
ONE being in a Chamber with his friend, looking
out at a window, hee saw one riding on a horse in
the street. Said hee : doe you see that horse ? Yea,
qd. the other. Then said hee : you may sweare you
(i) This witticism is much older than Taylor's age. I have not met
with it in any other English jest-books which have happened to fall
in my way ; but it is the same story, in a somewhat altered shape,
which occurs in the 'Eraipat of Lucian. Lucian, however, gives a
better finish and point to the matter : for he makes his heroine, whose
lover has brought her a very small cask of wine, which he warmly com
mends as very choice and very old, answer drily that she thinks "it is
very little of its age."
1 8 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
haue scene the best horse in England. How doe
you know that ? said the other. I know it well, said
hee, for it is my horse, and I am sure that hee is
the best, and yet I dare sweare that I have one in
my stable worth ten of him.
(19.)
AN unhappy boy, that kept his fathe[r]'s sheepe in
the country, did vse to carry a paire of Cards in
his pocket, and meeting with boyes as good as
himself, would fall to Cards at the Cambrian game
of whip-her-ginny, or English one and thirty ; at
which sport hee would some days lose a sheepe or
two ; for which, if his father corrected him, hee
(in reuenge) would driue the sheepe home at night
ouer a narrow bridge, where some of them falling
besides the bridge were drowned in the swift brooke.
The old man, being wearied with his vngracious
dealing, complained to a Justice, thinking to affright
him from doing any more the like. In briefe,
before the Justice the youth was brought, where
(vsing small reuerence, and lesse manners) the
Justice said to him : Sirrah, you are a notable villaine;
you play at Cards, and lose your fathers sheepe at
one and thirty. The Boy replied, that it was a lye.
A lye, quoth the Justice, you saucy knaue, dost thou
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 1 9
giue me the lye ? No, qd. the boy, I gaue not you
the lye, but you told me the lye : for I neuer lost
sheepe at one and thirty : for, when my game was
one and thirty I always wonne. Indeed, said the
justice, thou saist true ; but I have another accusa
tion against thee, which is, that you driue your
fathers sheepe ouer a narrow bridge, where some of
them are oftentimes drowned. That's a lye too,
quoth the boy : for those that go ouer the bridge
are well enough ; it is onely those that fall beside,
which are drowned. Whereto the Justice said to
the boys father : old man, thou hast brought in two
false accusations against thy sonne : for he neuer
lost sheepe at one and thirty : nor were there euer
any drowned, that went ouer the bridge.
(20.)
A Quiblet.
A CAPTAINE, passing through a roome where a
woman was driuing a buck of clothes, but he
thinking she had been brewing, saw a dish, and
dipped some small quantity of the lye, 1 which he,
supposing to be mault-wort, dranke vp, and pre-
setly began to swear, spit, spatter and spaule.
(i) A composition used in washing, which may be found described in
the Dictionaries. The older form of the word was ley. Thus, in the
Mery Tales of Skelton, 1567, we find hote ley for hot lye.
2O Taylors Wit and Mirth.
The woman asked him what he ayled. He told her,
and called her some scurvy names, saying, he had
swallowed Lye. Nay, then I cannot blame you to
be angry : for you being a souldier and a Captaine,
it must needs trouble your stomacke to swallow
the Lye.
(21.)
A COUNTRY fellow (that had not walked much in
streets that were paued) came to London, where a
dog came suddenly out of a house, and furiously
ran at him. 'The fellow stooped to take vp a stone
to cast at the Dog, and finding them all fast ram
med or paued in the ground, quoth hee : what
strange country am I in, where the people tye vp
the stones, and let the dogs loose.
(22.)
AN honest Mayor of a Towne, being all Mercy
and no Justice, louing ease and quietness, and
vnwilling to commit any offence or offender : one
said of him that hee was like the herbe y<?/z;z in a
pottage pot : for that herbe did not giue any taste
at all either good or bad, but an excellent colour ;
so the Mayor did neither good nor harme, but (as
an image of a Mayor's authority) filled up the
roome.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 21
A JUSTICE of the Peace, being angry with a pilfer
ing Knaue, said : Sirrah, if thou dost not mend thy
manners, thou wilt be shortly hanged, or else I
will be hanged for thee. The bold knaue replyed :
I thanke your worship for that kind offer, and I
beseech your worship not to be out of the way,
when I shall haue occasion to vse you.
CERTAINE Justices of the Peace, 1 being informed
of the odious abuses daily committed by drunken-
nesse in their Jurisdictions, did, according to their
places and duties, meet at a market towne, and
sate two dayes, hearing informations, and working
reformations. At last, they concluded that the Ale
and Beere were too strong, and therefore com
manded that from thence forth smaller drinke
should bee brewed, whereby these vnruly people
might sometimes goe to bed sober. But one mad
tospot fellow being much grieued at this order,
hauing made himselfe halfe pot-shaken, without
(i) Of the extent to which habits of intoxication were carried in
England in Taylor's time by both sexes, a pretty good notion is derived
from the pamphlets of the period. See Ward's Woe to Drunkards,
1622, 8vo.
22 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
feare or wit came to the Justices, and asked them,
if they had sate two dayes about the brewing of
small drinke ; to whom one of the Justices replyed :
yes. Why, then, quoth the drunkard, I pray you sit
three daies more to know who shall drinke it : for
I will none of it.
THERE was a Scottish Gentleman that had sore
eyes, who was counselled by his Physitians to for-
beare drinking of wine ; but hee said hee neither
could nor would forbeare it, maintaining it for the
lesser euill, to shut vp the windowes of his body,
then to suffer the house to fall downe, through
want of reparations. 1
VPON the death of Queene Elizabeth, there was a
Mayor of a Country Towne sitting in consultation
with his Brethren, to whom he grauely said : My
Brethren and Neighbours, I doe heare that the
Queene is dead, wherefore I thought it exceeding
fit wee should despaire to this place that, being,
dessembled together,we might consult of our estates :
i) This jest appears to be imitated from the Merie Tales 6 Quicke
A nsweres, No. 88. See that Tale, and the note attached to it, and also
he Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson, 1607 (supra, p. 45).
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 23
for I doubt mee wee shall haue another Queene or
a King, and I stand in great feare that the people
will be vnrude, so that wee shall bee in danger of
strange Resurrection.
(70
ANOTHER Mayor that was on hunting, (by chance)
one asked him how hee liked the Cry. A p** take
the Dogs ! saith hee, they make such a bawling,
that I cannot heare the Cry.
(28.)
AN old Justice was fast asleepe on the Bench, when
poore Malefactor was judged to bee hanged ; at
which word the Justice suddenly awaked and said
to the Thiefe: my friend, I pray let this bee a warn
ing to you; looke you doe so no more, for wee doe not
show euery man the likefauour.
AN old Recorder of a Citty in this Land was busie
with a Country Mayor. In the meane space, they
were interrupted by a fellow that was brought
before him for killing of a man. My Lord asked
the fellowes name, who answered, his name was
24 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
Gilman. Said my Lord : take away G, and thy
name is Ilman; put K to it, thy name is Kilman,
and put to [it] Sp and thy name is Spilman. Thou
art halfe hang'd already (as the prouerbe sayes) :
for thou hast an ill name, let a man vary it how
hee can.
The Mayor all this while stood by musing at
my Lords canuassing the mans name, and after
ward being at home among his owne good people,
he had an offender brought before him for getting
a wench with child. Master Mayor asked him his
name. The fellow said : if it please your worship
my name is Johnson. Then Master Mayor (striu-
ing to imitate my Lord) said : take away G and thy
name is Ilman, put K to it, it is Kilman, put Sp to
it, and thy name is Spilman ; thou art a knaue \
thou hast an ill name, and thou shalt bee hanged, &c.
(30.)
A Quiblet.
MASTER Field the Player, 1 riding vp Fleet street a
great pace, a Gentleman called him, and asked
him, what Play was played that day. Hee (being
(i) Nathaniel Field, the author and actor. A copious account of him
will be found in Collier's Memoirs of Shakespearian Actors, 1846.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 25
angry to be stayd vpon so friuoulous a demand)
answered, that he might see what Play was to be
playd vpon euery Poste. I cry you mercy (said the
Gentleman), I tooke you for a Poste, you road so
faste.
ONE, being long vexed with the spirit of jealousie,
came suddenly into his house, and found a man
(whonj he suspected) somewhat too busie with his
wife ; to whom hee said : now, good fellow, I
thanke thee : for thou hast cured me of a strange
hellish torment ; my suspition is cleared ; and
apparent knowledge hath giuen mee such ease of
heart, that I will be jealous no more.
A SKILFULL Painter was requested to paint out a
faire Courtezan (in plaine English, a W****). I pray
you spare that cost, said the Painter : for, if shee
be a right w****, she daily paints herselfe.
(33.)
SEIGNEUR Valdrino (pay-master to the Campe of
Alphonsus, King of Aragon), a man exquisite in
Courtship and compliment : as two or three were
26 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
at strife laying wagers what Countryman he was,
a blunt bold Captaine asked what was the matter.
Why Captaine, said one, we are laying a wager
what Countriman my Lord Treasurer Valdrino is.
Oh, said the Captaine, I can tell you that ; I am
sure he was borne in the land of Promise : for I
haue serued the King in his wars these seuen
yeeres without pay, and euer when I petition to
my Lord, he payes me with no coyne but promises,
which makes me halfe assured that hee is that
Countryman.
(34.)
A NOBLEMAN of France (as hee was riding) met
with a yeoman of the Country, to whom he said :
my friend, I should know thee, I doe remember I
haue often scene thee. My good Lord, said the
Countriman, I am one of your Honers poore
tenants, and my name is T. I. I remember thee
better now (said my Lord); there were two brothers
of you, but one is dead \ I pray which of you doth
remaine aliue ?
(35.)
THE aforesaid Noble man hauing had a Harper
that was blinde, playing to him after supper some-
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 27
what late, at last hee arose, and commanded one
of his seruants to light the Harper downe the
staires, to whom the Serving-man sayd : my Lord,
the Harper is blind. Thou ignorant knaue, quoth
my Lord, he hath the more need of light.
(36.)
A YOUNG fellow wisht himselfe the richest Cuck
old in England, to whom his mother said very
angerly : you foolish couetous boy, why dost thou
desire such a wish ; hath not thine owne Father
enough in store for thee 1
(37-)
A W**** Rampant made her husband a Cuckold
Dormant, with a front Cressant, surprized by the
watch Guardant, brought to the Justice Passant,
with her play-fellow Pendant, after a coursie
Couchant. The Justice told her that her offence
was haynous in breaking the bonds of matrimony
in that adulterate manner, and that she should
consider that her husband was her Head. Good
sir, quoth shee, I did euer acknowledge him so,
and I hope it is no such great fault in me, for I
was but trimming, dressing, or ad-horning my
Head.
3- H
28 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
(38.)
A MAN being very sickly, one said to his wife : I
maruell your husband doth not weare a night-cap.
Truly (quoth shee), within this six monthes that my
husband hath bin sicke, although his legges be
shrunke, yet hee hath outgrowne all his night-caps.
(39.)
A BOY, whose mother was noted to be one not ouer
laden with honesty, went to seeke his Godfather,
and enquiring for him, quoth one to him : who is
thy Godfather ? The boy repli'd : his name is good-
man Digland the Gardiner. Oh, said the man, if
he be thy Godfather, he is at the next alehouse
but I feare thou takest Gods name in vaine. 1
A SCROLLER, riding from Cambridge towards Lon
don, his horse being tyred (a lazie disease often
befalling such hacknies), met a Poste on the way,
who, notwithstanding he did what he could to make
(i) It is scarcely necessary to mention that this anecdote is elsewhere
applied to no less persons than Shakespeare and Sir William Davenant,
the latter speaking of the great dramatist as his godfather, and being
reproved as above. But the term godfather was not always used in
so strict a sense formerly as now. See Rich's Farewell to Militarie
Profession, 1581 (Shakesp. Soc. repr. p. 28).
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 29
his horse giue him place, by spurre, switch and
bridle : yet the Poste was faine to giue him the way;
to whom (in anger) he said : thou paltry fellow,
dost thou not see I am a Poste? The Scholler
straight replyed : and thou ignorant fellow, dost
thou not see that I ride vpon a Poste ?
(41.)
A FELLOW, hauing more drinke than wit, in a
winter euening made a foolish vowe, to take the
wall of as many as hee met betwixt the Temple-bar
and Charing-crosse ; and comming neere the
Sauoy, where stood a Poste a little distance from
the wall, the drunkard tooke it for a man, and
would haue the wall, beginning to quarrell and
giue the Poste foule words j at which a man came
by, and asked the matter, and whom he spake to.
He answered, hee would haue the wall of that
fellow that stood so stifly there. My friend, said
the other, that is a Poste, you must giue him the
way. Is it so ? said the fellow, a p** vpon him ;
why did he not blow his home ?
A SAYLOR being on a tyred horse, riding from Douer
to London, his company prayed him to ride faster :
3O Taylors Wit and Mirth.
to whom he answered : I can come no faster ; doe
you not see that I am be calm'd 1
(43.)
Two Gentlemen were jesting, and one of them cast
away the others hat ; but the other catcht his hat
off, and put it on his owne head. Now fie, fie,
quoth the other, thou spoylest my hat. Wherewith 1
said the other. Marry (said hee that was bear-
headed), thou spoylest my hat with putting a calues
head into it.
(44.)
^6* JFi'pre <2Donumfon,
IF a Vintner doth draw me good wine vpon money
or credit, then hee is fitter to draw then hang ; but
if he draw me bad wine for good money, then hee
is much fitter to hang then to draw.
(45-)
A MAN hauing beene with a Doctor of Physicke to
hau-e his aduise about some griefe he had, when
he came home, his wife asked him, what newes.
Marry, said he, my Physician doth counsell me to
drinke Asses milke euery morning fasting. Why,
husband, quoth the Woman, I pray you tell me,
doth Master Doctor give sucke ?
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 3 1
( 4 6.)
A BRAUE and valiant Captaine, whom I could name,
had a scarfe giuen him here in England, and he
sayling ouer into the Low-Coimtryes, an old
Romane Catholike Lady of his acquaintance was
very importunate to beg his scarfe of him. The
Captaine asked her what shee would doe with it,
and said it was not fit for her wearing. Shee
answered him that, if he would giue it her, that
Jesus Christ should weare it in the Church vpon
holy daies, meaning the Image. Madam, said the
Captaine, if you will bring me word, that euer his
father wore such a scarfe, then I will giue you this
for him.
(47.)
BETWEENE the houres of twelve and one at noone,
one asked mee what it was a clock : I answered
him, it was little or nothing. Hee demaunded of me
what I meant by my answer. I reply'd that, it
being not one of the clocke, it was to bee reckned
or counted for nought : for that, which is lesser then
one, is little or nothing.
32 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
A GENTLEWOMAN 1 cheapned a Close-stoole in Pauls
Church-yard, and the shop-keeper did aske her too
much money for it, as shee thought. Why, mistris,
said hee, I pray you consider what a good locke
and key it hath. Shee replyed, that shee had small
vse for either locke or key : for she purposed to put
nothing into it, but what shee cared not who stole
out
(49.)
A COUNTREY woman at an Assize was to take
her oath against a party. The said party entreated
the Judge that her oath might not bee taken The
Judge demaunded why he excepted against her.
My Lord (quoth hee), shee is a Recusant or Romane
Catholique, and they hold it no matter of conscience
to sweare any thing against vs. Come hither, woman,
said the Judge, I doe not thinke thou art a Recusant ;
I am perswaded, that for fourty shillings thou wilt
sweare the Pope is a knaue. Good my Lord, said
shee, the Pope is a stranger to mee ; but, if I knew
him as well as I know your Lordship, I would
sweare for halfe the mony. 1
(1) This silly and coarse story is copied in Laugh and Be Fat (1801),
120, p . 9 .
(2) The practice of perjury which, it is well known, formerly prevailed
to a much larger extent than at present in our courts of justice, has sup-
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 33
(5o.)
A CARDINALL kept a knauish foole for his recrea
tion, to whom hee said : sirrah foole, suppose that
all the world were dead but thou and I, and that
one of vs should be turned to a Horse, and the
other of vs to an Asse ; say, which of these two
wouldest thou choose to bee ? The foole answered :
Sir, you are my master, and for that respect it is fit
that your worship should choose first, and I will
be contented to take that which you leaue. Why
then, said the Cardinall, I would bee a horse. No,
said the foole, let me intreat your worship to bee
an Asse : for I would bee an Asse to chuse of all
things. Why 1 quoth the Cardinall. Marry, said the
foole, because that I haue knowne many Asses
come to bee Justices ; but I neuer knew any horse
come to the like preferment.
A GRAUE discreet Gentleman had 1 a comely wife,
whose beauty and free behauiour did draw her
honesty into suspition, by whom hee had a sonne
almost at mans estate, of very dissolute and wanton
plied the compilers of jest-books with a good deal of material for their
purpose. A story is told somewhere of a counsel who on one occasion
received a Roland for his Oliver from a country witness for taunting him
with venality.
(i) Old ed. has having.
34 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
carriage. I muse, said one, that a man of such
stayd and moderate grauity should haue a sonne
of such a contrary and froward disposition. Sir,
reply'd another, the reason is that his pate is stuffed
with his Mothers wit, that there is no roome for
any of his fathers wisedome ; besides, the light-
nesse of her heeles is gotten into her sonnes
braines.
A RICH Grasier dwelling 150 miles from Oxford,
hauing a sonne that had seuen yeeres beene a
student there, at last sent for him home, to whom
hee said : sonne, I doe heare that you are well
practised in the rudiments of learning, but that
withall you are addicted to an idle veine of the
poore and threadbare art of Poetry, which I
charge thee to leaue and auoyd, as thou tenderest
my fauour : for my mind is not to haue thee Hue
beggerly, and dye poorely. Yet I will ask thee one
Poeticall question, which is : wherefore thinkest
thou that so beautifull a creature as Venus was so
besotted to match her selfe with so ill fauored a
knaue as Vulcan 1 ? In truth, father, quoth the young
man, I can yeeld you no reason for it ; but I wonder
at it ; and yet I doe admire as much, wherefore my
mother married with you.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 35
(53-)
A MAN, going with his Wife by a deepe riuer side,
began to talke of Cuckolds, and withall he wisht
that euery Cuckold were cast into the riuer; to
whom his wife replyes : husband, I pray you learne
to swimme.
(54-)
A MAN [was] riding through a village with his dog
running by him, which dogs name was called Cuck
old, leaping and frisking into euery house hee past
by where the doore was open. Whereupon the man,
being afraid his dogge would bee lost, cals and
whistles : here, here, Cuckold ! to whom an old
woman said : whom dost thou miscall ! \ I would
haue thee know that no Cuckold doth dwell in
this house. Good woman, said the man, you
mistake mee ; I doe call nobody but my dog.
Now out vpon thee, thou misbeleeuing knaue, said
shee, where learnest thou that manners to call a
dog by a Christian bodies name 1
(55-)
[THERE was] a Lusty Miller that, in his younger
daies had beene much giuen to the flesh and the
deuill; so that not one pretty maid or female
36 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
seruant did or could bring grist to his mill to be
grownd, but the knaue miller would doe his best
to vndermine and blow vp their chastity, and
withall hee would bargaine with as many as his
temptations ouercame that, at his day of marriage,
euery one of them should giue him a cake. In
process of time the miller was married, and those
aforesaid free-hearted wenches sent each one their
cakes, to the number of 99. His wife the Bride,
who also went for a maid, did muse and aske what
was the meaning of so many cakes. The miller
told her the truth of all without any dissembling, to
whom his wife answered : if I had beene so wise in
bargaining as you have beene in your time, the
young men of my acquaintance would haue sent
me 100 cheeses to eat with your cakes. 1
This bawdy Miller in a trap was catch\t\
Not onely married, but most fitly match\f\ :
In this the prouerb is approued plaine.
What bread men breake, is broke to them againe.
(56.)
THERE was a faire ship of two hundred tuns lying
at the Tower-wharfe at London, where a Country
man passing by most earnestly looked on the said
(i) See Merie Tales and Quicke Answeres, No. 73.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 37
ship, and demanded how old shee was. One made
answer that she was a yeere old. Good Lord blesse
mee, said the Country-man, is shee so big growne
in one yeere ! what a greatnesse will shee bee by
that time shee comes to my age !
This mans blind ignorance I may compare
To Aqua vitae giuen to a Mare :
Let each man his owne calling then apply,
Ne sutor vltra crepidam, say I.
(57.)
TWELUE Schollers [were] riding together, [and] one
of them said : my masters, let vs ride faster. Why,
quoth another, me thinks wee ride a good pace,
I'l warrant it is foure mile an houre. Alas, said
the first, what is foure mile an hour amongst all vs ?
Let not man boast of wit or learning deepe:
For ignorance may out of knowlidge creepe.
Amongst 1 2 men 4 mile an houre to ride :
He that hath wit, to each his share diuide.
(58.)
AN Apprentice in the market did aske the price of
an hundred Oysters. His friend perswaded him not
to buy them, for they were too small. Too small !
38 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
replyed the Prentice, there is not much loss in that :
for I shall haue the more to the hundred.
If vp the hill a measured mile it be,
Then downe the hilVs another mile, I see :
A groat to pay, 4 pence will quit the cost ;
Whafs won in f hundred, in the, shire is lost.
(59.)
SIXE Gentlemen riding together were in doubt that
they were out of their way ; wherefore they rode a
slight shot to an old shepheard, one of them en
quiring of him if that were the way to such a town,
and how far it was thither. Sir, quoth the Shep
heard, that is the right way, and you haue sixe
miles thither. Quoth one of the Gentlemen : what
a lying old knaue art thou ! it cannot be aboue foure
miles. The Shepheard reply'd : Sir, you offer like a
chapman, and you shall haue it for foure miles ; but
He assure you it shall cost euery one of these Gen
tlemen sixe miles, before they come thither. 1
(i) This story is found in other jest-books. See Thorns' Anecdotes and
Traditions, 1839, p, 32, where it is No. 56 of The Merry Passages and
Jests, collected by Sir Nicholas L'Estrange. This particular anecdote
Sir Nicholas notes as having from " Brother Spring," i.e. L'Estrange's
brother-in-law, Sir William Spring, created a baronet in 1641. Whence
Taylor derived the story, it is hard to tell : but he seems entitled to be re
garded as the earlier authority in this case, since his Wit and Mirth
was printed in 1630, when L'Estrange was not more than 27. We need
scarcely observe that the point is not very material.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 39
Here rashnesse did the Gallants tongue drship,
To whom the Shepheard gaue a pleasing nip :
Thus softest fire doth make the sweetest Mault,
And mild reproof es makes rashness see his fault.
(60.)
A MAN was very angry with his maid, because his
eggs were boyled too hard. Truely, said she, I haue
made them boyle a long houre ; but the next you
haue shall boyle two houres, but they shall be tender
enough.
The loyling of this wenches eggs., I find,
Much like vnto a greedy mizers mind:
The eggs the more they boyle are harder still,
The mizer's full, too full : yet wants his fill.
(61.)
Two learned good-fellowes [were] drinking a pipe
of Tobacco. It being almost out, that he that
drunke last did partly feele the ashes to come hot
to his lippes, giuing the pipe to his friend, said :
Ashes to Ashes. The other, taking the pipe and
being of a quick e apprehension, threw it out to
the dunghill, saying, Earth to Earth.
Thus wit with wit agrees like cake and cheese;
Both sides are gainers, neither side doth leese.
4O Taylors Wit and Mirth.
Conceit begets conceit, -jest jest doth father,
And butter falne to ground doth something gather.
(62.)
ONE said, a Cittizen was a man all in earnest, and
in no part like a jest; because the Citizen was
neuer bad, or the jest neuer good, till they were
both broke.
Whafs one mans yea, may be another s nay ;
The Sun doth soften wax, and harden clay :
Some Citizens are like to jests; for why,
They'll breake in jest, or bankrupt policy.
A GALLANT with a galloping wit was mounted vpon
a running horse toward a town named Tame, within
ten miles of Oxford, and riding at full speed, he
met an old man, and asked him : sirrah, is this the
way to Tame? Yes, sir, hee replyde, your Horse, I'l
warrant you, if hee were as wild as the diuell.
This is a ridle to afoole, me thinks,
And seemes to want an Oedipus or Sphinx,
But, Reader, in my booke I hold it fifi
To find you lines ; your self e must find you wit.
(i) z". e. sufficient.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 41
(64.)
A COMPLEMENTAL Courtier that in his French,
Italian, and Spanish cringes, conges and cour
tesies, would bend his body, and bow euery way
like a tumbler, a Mercers servant espying his
marmositicall Apishnesse, said : Oh, if my master
could haue bowed but halfe so much, I am cer
tainly perswaded that hee had neuer broke.
Too much of one thing oft proues good for nothing,
And dainties in satiety breed lothing :
T/i' ones flattery, mingled with the others pride,
Had serued them both, both might Hue long vnspide.
(65.)
I MY selfe gaue a booke to King James once in the
Great Chamber at Whitehall as his Maiesty came
from the Chappell. The Duke of Richmond * said
merrily vnto me : Taylor, where did you learne the
manners to giue the King a booke, and not kneele?
My Lord, said I, if it please your Grace, I doe
giue now ; but when I beg any thing, then I will
kneele.
(i) Lodovick, or Lewis, Stuart, Duke of Richmond and Lennox, ob.
1624. Taylor wrote an elegy on him under the title of True Loving
Sorrow, &c. which is printed in his Works, 1630, vol. ii. p. 333. The
event was also commemorated in a poem by Abraham Darcie the annalist.
See Autob. of Sir S. D'Ewes, i. 24!, and Burn's Parish Registers.
42 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
Be it to all men by these presents knowne,
Men need not kneele to giue away their owne.
lie stand vpon my feet, when as I giue,
And kneele, when as I beg more meanes to Hue;
But some by this may understand,
That Courtiers oftener kneele than stand.
(66.)
THE trayned Souldiers of a certaine Shire which I
could name, to the number of 6000, as they were
mustring and drilling vnder their seuerall Cap-
taines, a yeomans sonne being there as a raw
souldier in his corslet, his father standing by, said :
I vaith, it does mee much good at heart to zee how
trim a vellow my zonne is in his hardnesse. 1 The
young fellow, hearing his fathers commendations of
him, began very desperately to shake his pike, and
looking exceeding grim, said, with a fearfull, horrible,
terrible countenance : O vather, chad lather 2 nor a
groat that all wee had but one Spaniard here,
One Spaniard mongst 6000 pitty twere,
Better ten thousand Britains bold were there,
Led by braue Leaders, that might make Spain quake,
Like Vere, or Morgan, Essex, Blunt, or Drake.
(1) Le. harness.
(2) i. e. rather. Apparently a Shropshire provincialism : for in a copy
of the Tale of the Basyn, supposed to be in the Salopian dialect, we
find lolher for the other or f other.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 43
ONE said, that hee 'could neuer haue his health in
Cambridge, and that if hee had liued there till this
time, hee thought in his conscience that hee had
dyed seuen yeeres agoe.
/ will not say the man that spake so, tyd ;
Seuen yeeres agoe, no doubt, hee might haue dy'd:
He by his trade perhaps might be a dyer,
And daily dy'd to Hue, and him no Iyer.
(68.)
A COUNTRY fellow was much grieued that hee had
not gone seuen miles to a market towne to haue
scene the Baboones. Why, said his wife, it is too
farre to goe and come in a day to see such babies ;
especially 'tis too great a journey on foot. O, quoth
hee, I could haue gone thither with my neighbour
Hobson on foot, like a foole as I was, and I might
haue rid backe vpon my neighbour Jobsons mare,
like an ass as I am.
Thus in the preter tense a foole he was,
And in the present tense he is an Asse ;
And in the future foole and asse shall bee,
That goes or rides so far such sights to see.
THERE was a lusty young Scholler preferred to
a Benefice in the Country, and commonly on
3- /
44 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
Sundayes and holy-dayes, after euening prayer, hee
would haue a dozen bouts at cudgels with the
sturdiest youths in his parish. The Bishop of the
Diocesse, hearing of it, sent for the parson, telling
him that this beseemed not his profession and
grauity, and if that he did not desist from that
vnmeet kind of exercise, he would vnbenefice him.
Good my Lord (said the Parson), I beseech you
to conceiue rightly of mee, and I doubt not but
my playing at cudgels will be counted tollerable ;
for I doe it of purpose to edifie the ruder sort of
my people. How so 1 said the Bishop. Marry, my
Lord (quoth the Parson), whatsoeuer I doe teach
them at morning and euening prayer, I doe beat
soundly into their heads at cudgels afterward, for
their better remembrance.
/ wish that all the Fencers in our Nation
Were onely of this Parsons congregation :
That he his life and doctrine shoulde explaine,
By beating them, whilst they beat him againe.
A JUDGE vpon the Bench did aske an 1 old man- how
old he was. My Lord, said he, I am eight and
fourscore. And why not fourscore and eight 1 said
the Judge. The other repli'd : because I was eight,
before I was fourescore.
(r) Old ed. has as.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 45
Eight's before eighty, all men may descry :
Yet wee name eighty first contrarily.
Pull off my Boots and Spures, I you beseech,
When Spures and Boots is rather proper speech.
A FELLOW made his boast, that heerode 220 miles
with one horse, and neuer drew bit. That may bee
(quoth another) ; perhaps you rid him with a halter.
The prouerbe sales : hee that will swear will lie,
He that will lie will steale by consequency :
Swearers are lyers, lyers most are thieues,
Or God helpe Taylors and true Vnderthrieues.
(72.)
ONE saw a decayed Gentleman in a very threed-
bane cloake, [and] said to him : Sir, you haue a
very watchfull cloake on. Why? said the poore
Gentleman. The other answered : I doe not
thinke it [has] had a good nap this seuen yeeres.
The Gentleman replyed : and truly, sir, mee thinkes
you want a nap as well as my cloake, for you talke
idely for want of sleepe.
The prodigall at Poverty doth scoff e,
Though from his backe the begger's notfarre off.
Here flout with flout and bob with bob is quitted,
And proud vain-glorious folly finely fitted.
46 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
(73-)
A DILIGENT and learned Preacher on a Sunday in
the afternoone was preaching, whilest most of the
zealous Vestry men (for their meaner edification)
were fast asleepe in their pues. In the mean space,
a young child cryed somewhat aloud at the lower
end of the Church, which the Preacher hearing
called to the Nurse, and said : Nurse, I pray thee
still thy childe, or else it may chance to awaken
some of the best men in our parish.
Men sleepe at Sermons, sure their braines are adle,
Sly Satan lulls them, and doth rocke the cradle :
When men thus doe no ill, 'tis vnderstood,
The diuell hinders them from doing good.
(74.)
A CHORISTER or singing man, at service in a
Cathedrall Church, was asleepe, when all his fel-
lowes were singing ; which the Deane espying, sent
a boy to him to waken him, and asked him, why
hee did not sing. Hee, being suddenly awaked,
prayed the boy to thanke master Deane for his
kind remembrance, and to tell him that hee was
as merry as those that did sing.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 47
They say he's wise that can himselfe keepe warme,
And that the man that sleeps will think no harme ;
He sung not, yet was in a merry mood:
Like John Indifferent, did not harme nor good.
(75.)
A KIND of clownish gentleman had halfe a Brawne
sent him against Christmas ; hee very liberally gaue
the seruing-man halfe a shilling that brought it ;
the seruing-man gaue the Porter that carried it
eight pence before the gentlemans face. Sirrah,
said hee, are you so prodigall to reward the Porter
with eight pence, when I giue you but sixpence \
thou bearest the mind of a prodigall Gallant, although
by thy foote thou seemest a lubberly clowne.
Good sir, said the fellow, I confesse I haue a very
clownish lubberly paire of feet, but yet I am per-
swaded that a paire of your worships shooes would
fit them well.
Here's Bore and Brawne together are well met,
He knew that giuing was no way to get;
The world gets somewhat by the prodigall,
When as the mizer gets the diuell and all.
(76.)
A GRIPING Extortioner, that had beene a maker of
beggers for the space of forty yeeres, and by raising
48 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
rents, and oppression, had vndone many families,
saies on a time in anger to a poore fellow that had
stolen a sheepe of his : ah, villaine, darest thou rob
mee ; I vow and sweare there is not so d d a
rogue in the world as thou. To whom the fellow
answered : I beseech your good worship remember
your selfe, and bee good to me for Gods sake and
for your owne sake.
This Rascals eye is with a bleame so blinde,
That in the poore mans hee a moat can find;
The Wolfe himself e a temperate feeder deems.
And euery man too much himself esteemes.
(77.)
A SERUING man and his mistris was landing at the
Whitefryars stayers ; the stayers being very bad, a
waterman offered to helpe the woman, saying :
giue me your hand, Gentlewoman ; He helpe you.
To whom her man replyed : you saucy fellow, place
your words right ; my mistres is no Gentlewoman ;
shee is a Lady.
All is not gold (they say) that glitters bright,
Snoiv is not sugar, though it looke as white :
And 'tis approued to be true and common,
That every Lady's not a Gentlewoman.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 49
(78.)
A SERUINGMAN going in haste in London (minding
his businesse more than his way), a Gallant justled
him from the wall almost into the kennell. The
fellow turned about, and asked the Gentleman
why hee did justle him so. The Gentleman said :
because hee would not give the wall to a saucy
knave. The Seruingman replyed : your worship is
not of my mind, for I will.
Here Pride, that takes Humility in snuffe,
Is well encountred with a counter buffe,
One would not giue the wall vnto a knaue,
The other would, and him the wall he gauc.
(79.)
A JUSTICE of the Peace was very angry with a
country yeoman, because hee came not to him at
his first sending for him ; and after he had bounti
fully bestowed two or three dozen of knaues vpon
him, hee said to him : Sirrah, I will make you
know, that the proudest saucy knaue that dwels
under my command, shall come before mee, when
I send for him. I beseech your worship, said the
man, to pardon mee, for I was afraid. Afraid of
what ? said the Justice. Of your worship, answered
the fellow. Of mee, said the Justice ; why wast
5O Taylors Wit and Mirth.
thou afraid of mee ? Because your worship lookes
so like a Lyon, said the man. A Lyon ! quoth the
Justice, when didst thou see a Lyon ? May it
please your worship (the fellow replyed), I saw a
Butcher bring one but yesterday to Colebrooke
market with a white face, and his foure legs
bound.
This fellow was a knaue orfoole, or both,
Or else his wit was of but slender growth ;
He gaue the white-fac'd Calfe the Lyons stile,
The Justice was a proper man the while.
(So.)
DIUERS Gentlemen being merry together, at last
one of their acquaintance came to them (whose
name was Sampson). Aha, said one of them, now
wee may bee securely merry; no Sergeant or
Bailiffe dare touch vs : for, if a thousand Philistines
come, here is Sampson, who is able to braine them
all. To whom Sampson replyede : Sir, I may boldly
venture against so many as you speake of, pro-
uided that you will lend me one of your jaw bones.
(81.)
Two Playsterers being at worke for mee at my house
in Southwarke, 1 did many times patch and dawbe
i) At one period of his life, the Water-Poet kept an inn there.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 51
out part of their dayes labour with prating ; which
I, being digging in my garden, did ouer-heare that
their chat was of their wiues, and how that if I
were able (quoth one), my wife should ride in
pompe through London as I saw a Countesse
ride yesterday. Why, quoth the other, how did
shee ride, I pray? Marry, said hee, in state, in
her Horslitter. O base, quoth the other, Hors-
litter ; I protest, as poore a man as I am, I would
haue allowed my wife a three-peny trusse of cleane
straw.
SIR Edward Dyer 1 came to towne on some busi-
nesse, just at the time as the Gate was newly shut,
and the Warders going away with the keys. Hee,
looking through the gate, called to one of them,
saying : Hoe, fellow ! I pray thee open the gate
and let me in. None of your fellow, Sir, but a
poore knaue. Why then, said Sir Edward, I pray
thee, poore knaue, let me in. Nay, no knaue
neither, quoth the Warder. Why then, said the
Knight, hee was a knaue that told me so.
(i) Probably the poet of that name. See Warton's H. E. P. edit. 1824,
iv. 99 ; Notes and Queries, 2 S. xi. 163 ; Aubrey's Lives, ii. 338. Davies
of Hereford has lines to Dyer in his Microcosmos, 1603. Dyer survived
till May, 1607. His death probably occurred at his residence in South-
wark, where Taylor was once an innkeeper. He was of the same family
as Chief Justice Dyer, who died in 1581.
52 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
(83)
ONE met his friend in the streete, and told him
he was very sorry to see him looke so ill, asking
him what he ailed. Hee replyed, that he was now
well amended, but hee had beene lately sicke of
the Poxe. What Pox, the small pox? said his
friend. Nay, quoth the other, my minde was not
so base, for I had the bigest pox that I could get
for my money.
AN honest Hostesse of mine at Oxford rested an
old shoulder of a Ram, which in the eating was
as tough as a Buffe Jerkin. I did aske her what
the reason was that the mutton was so tough. She
said she knew not, except the Butcher deceiued
her in the age of it, and she would tell him on
both sides of his eares, like a knaue as he was.
Nay, quoth I, I thinke there is another fault in it,
which will excuse the Butcher, for perhaps you
roasted it with old wood. In troth (quoth the
hostesse) it is like enough, and my husband neuer
doth otherwaies but buy old stumps and knots,
which makes all the meate we either roast or
boyle so exceeding tough that no body can eat it.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 53
(85.)
ONE hearing a clocke strike three when he thought
it was but two, said : This Clocke is like an hypo
critical Puritane; for though he will not sweare,
yet hee will lye abbominably.
(86.)
DICKE Tarleton said that hee could compare
Queene Elizabeth to nothing more fitly than to a
Sculler ; for, said he, Neither the Queene nor the
Sculler hath a fellow. 1
(87.)
Two obstinate rich fellowes in Law (that had each
of them more money than wit), by chance one
of them comming out of Westminster Hall, met
with his adversaries wife, to whom he said : In
troth good woman I doe much pity your case, in
that it is your hard fortune that such a foole as
your husband should have so discreet and modest
[a] wife. The woman replide : In truth Sir, I doe
grieue more that so honest a wife as you have
should have such a wrangling knaue to her husband.
(i) This anecdote is not included in Tarltoris Jests, 1611, 410.
54 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
(88.)
A POORE labouring man was married and matched
to a creature that so much vsed to scold waking,
that she had much adoe to refraine it sleeping,
so that the poore man was so battersangM and
belabour'd with tongue mettle, that he was weary
of his life. At last, foure or fiue women, that were
his neighbours (pitying his case), came in his
absence to his house, to admonish and counsell
his wife to a quiet behauior towards her husband ;
telling her that she was a shame to all good
women, in her bad vsage of so honest a painefull
man. The woman replyed to her neighbours, that
shee thought her husband did not loue her, which
was partly the cause that she was so froward
towards him. Why (said an old woman), I will
shew thee how thou shalt proue that he loues thee
dearly; doe thou counterfeit thy selfe dead, and
lye vnder the table, and one of vs will fetch thy
husband, and he shall find vs heavy and grieuing
for thee ; by which means thou shalt perceiue by
his lamentation for thee, how much he loues thee.
This counsell was allowed and effected. When the
poore man came home, he hearing the matter
(being much opprestt with griefe), ranne vnder the
tab]e bemoning the happy losse of his most kind
vexation, and making as though hee would kisse
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 55
her with a most louing embrace. To make all
sure, he brake her necke. The neighbours pittying
the mans extreame passion, in compassion told
him that his wife was not dead, and that all this
was done but to make tryall of his loue towards
her : whereupon they called her by her name,
bidding her to rise, and that shee had fooled
it enough with her husband. But for all their
calling, shee lay still; which made one of the
women to shake and jogge her; at which the
woman cried, Alas, she is dead indeed ! Why this
it is, quoth the husband, to dissemble and counter-
fet with God and the world.
A PLANTER of a Colledge in Oxford possessing
some crums of Logicke and chippings of Sophistry,
making distribution of bread at the Schollers
table, one of the Schollers complained vnto him
that the bread were dough baked : Why, quoth
hee, so it should bee ; what else is the definition
of bread, but dough baked ?
A MISERABLE fellow in the country did once a
yeare vse to inuite his neighbours to dinner, and
(i) In the old ed. this jest is numbered 90 by an error in the nume
ration, which runs through the remainder of the piece. It is here
corrected.
56 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
as they were one time sate, hee bade them wel
come, saying, that there was a surloin of beefe,
that the Oxe it came from cost 20 pound, and
that there was a Capon that he paid 2 shillings
6 pence for, in the market : at which, a country
yeoman sitting against the capon, fell to and cut
off a legge of it (the rest of the guests being not
yet past their roast beefe) ; to whom the man of
the house said : My friend, I pray thee eate some
of this same surloin. O sir, God forbid, quoth the
fellow, I am but a poore man, an oxe of 20 pound
price is too deare meat, a Capon of halfe a crowne
will serve my turne well enough, I thanke you.
(91.)
A RICH man told his nephew that hee had read a
booke called Lucius Apuleius of the Golden Asse, 1
and that he found there how Apuleius, after he had
beene an asse many yeeres, by eating of Roses
he did recouer his manly shape againe, and was
no more an asse : the young man replied to his
vncle : Sir, if I were worthy to advise you, I would
giue you counsell to eate a sailed of Roses once
a weeke yourselfe.
(i) This rich gentleman had probably perused Lucian's work in the
old version by Adlington, first printed in 1566, and frequently republished
between that date and 1639.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 57
A FELLOW, hairing beene married but flue weekes,
perceiued his wife to be great with childe, where
fore she desired him to buy a cradle. Shortly after
he went to a Faire and bought ten cradles ; and
being demanded why he bought so many, he
answered, that his wife would haue vse for them
all in one yeere.
(93.)
A GENTLEMAN vntrust and vnbuttoned in a cold
winter morning, a friend of his told him that it
was not for his health to goe so open in the raw
weather, and that he mused it did not kill him to
goe so oft vntrust : to whom the other replyed :
Sir, you are of the mind of my Silkeman, Mercer,
or Taylor, for they finde fault as you doe, because
I goe so much on trust, but it is a fault I haue
naturally from my parents and kindred, and my
creditors tell me that I doe imitate my betters.
(94.)
A JUSTICE of the Peace committed a fellow to
prison, and commanded him away three or foure
times, but stil the fellow intreated him. Sirrah
(said the Justice), must I bid you bee gone so
58 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
many times, and will you not goe 1 The fellow
answered : Sir, if your worship had bidden mee to
dinner or supper, I should in my poore manners
not haue 1 taken your offer vnder two or three
biddings, therefore I pray you blame me not if I
looke for foure biddings to prison. .
(95.)
A GREAT man kept a miserable house, so that his
seruants did alwaies rise from the table with empty
panches, though cleane-licked platters : truely, said
one of his men, I thinke my Lord will worke
miracles shortly, for though he practise not to
raise the dead, or dispossesse the diuell, yet he
goes about to feed his great family with nothing.
(96.)
ONE said that Bias the Philosopher was the first
Bowler; and that euer since the most part of
Bowles doe, in memory of their originall, weare
his badge of remembrance, and very dutifully hold
Bias. Now to tell you, this Bias was one of the
7 Sages or Wise men of Greece. My authors
to proue him the inuenter of Bowling, are Sham-
rooke, a famous Scithian Gimnosophist in his
(i) Old ed. reads to haue.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 59
ninth booke of Rubbing and Running ; of which
opinion Balductus the Theban Oratour seemes to
bee in his third Treatise of Court performances :
the likeliest coniecture is, that it was deuised as
an embleme to figure out the world's folly and
vnconstancy; for though a childe will ride a
sticke or staffe with an imagination that hee is on
horsebacke ; or make pyes of dirt, or houses of
cards, feed with two spoones, and cry for three
pieces of bread and butter, which childish actions
are ridiculous to a man : yet this wise game of
Bowling doth make the fathers surpasse their
children in apish toyes and most delicate dog-
trickes. As first for the postures : first, handle
your Bowie : secondly, aduance your Bowie :
thirdly, charge your Bowie : fourthly, ayme your
Bowie : fiftly, discharge your Bowie : sixtly, plye
your Bowie : in which last posture of plying your
Bowie you shall perceiue many varieties and
diuisions, as wringing of the necke, lifting vp of
the shoulders, clapping of the hands, lying downe
of one side, running after the Bowie, making long
dutifull scrapes and legs (sometimes bareheaded),
entreating him to flee, flee, flee (with pox on't
when 'tis too short) : and though the Bowler bee a
gentleman, yet there hee may meet with attendant
rookes, that sometimes will bee his betters six to
3- K
60 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
foure, or two to one. I doe not know any thing
fitter to bee compared to bowling then wooing or
louers ; for if they doe not see one another in two
dayes, they will say, Good Lord, it is seuen yeeres
since we saw each other! for louers doe thinke
that in absence time sleepeth, and in their pre
sence that hee is in a wild gallop. So a Bowler,
although the Allye or marke bee but thirty or
forty paces, yet sometimes I haue heard the
Bowler cry rub, rub, rub, and sweare and lye that
hee was gone an hundred miles, when the bowle
hath beene short of the blocke two yards or that
hee was too short a thousand foot, when hee is
vpon the head of the Jacke, or ten or twelue foot
beyond. In a word, there are many more seuerall
postures at bowles then there are ridiculous idle
tales or jests in my booke. Yet are the bowlers
very weake stomackt, for they are euer casting :
sometimes they giue the stab at the alley head,
but, God be thanked, no bloud shed; and some
times they bestow a Pippin one vpon the other,
but no good Apple, I'l assure you. The marke
which they ayme at hath sundry names and epi-
thites, as a Blocke, a Jacke, and a Mistris : a
Blocke, because of his birth and breeding, shewing
by his mettle of what house he came ; a Jacke,
because he being smooth' d and gotten into some
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 61
handsome shape, forgets the house hee came of,
suffering his betters to giue him the often salute,
whilest hee, like Jacke sauce, neither knowes him-
selfe, nor will knowe his superiors. But I hold a
Mistresse to be the fittest name for it; for there
are some that are commonly termed Mistresses,
which are not much better then mine Aunts : and
a Mistris is oftentimes a marke for euery knaue to
haue a fling at ; euery one striues to come so neere-
her that hee would kisse her, and yet some are
short, some wide, and some ouer, and who so
doth kisse, it may perhaps sweeten his lips, but I
assure him it shall neuer fill his belly, but rather
empty his purse. So much for bowling, that I
feare mee I haue bowled beyond the marke.
(97.)
A MINISTER, riding into the west parts of England,
happened to stay at a village on a Sunday, where
hee offered kindly to bestow a Sermon vpon them :
which the Constable hearing, did ask the Minister
if he were liceced to preach. Yes, quoth hee, that
I am ; and with that hee drew out of a box his
Licence, which was in Latine. Truly, said the
Constable, I vnderstand no Latine, yet I pray you
let mee see it ; I perhaps shall picke out heere and
Kz
62 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
there a word. No, good Sir, quoth the Minister, I
will haue no words pickt out of it, for spoyling my
Licence.
A COUNTRY MAN being demanded how such a
Riuer was called, that ranne through their Coun
try, hee answered that they neuer had need to
call the Riuer, for it alwayes came without calling.
(99.)
A FELLOW hauing his booke at the Sessions, was
burnt in the hand, and was commanded to say :
God saue the King. The King! said hee; God saue
my Grandam, that taught me to read, I am sure
I had bin hanged else.
(TOO.)
& tog to modie an &jpe.
IN Queene Elizabeths dayes, there was a fellow
that wore a brooch in his hat, like a tooth drawer,
with a Rose and Crow[n]e and two letters : this
fellow had a warrant from the Lord Chamberlaine
at that time to trauell with an exceeding braue
Ape, which hee had ; whereby hee gat his liuing
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 63
from time to time at markets and fayres. His Ape
did alwayes ride vpon a mastiffe dog, and a man
with a drum to attend him. It happened that
these foure trauellers came to a towne called Looe,
in Cornwall, where the Inne being taken, the drum
went about to signifie to the people, that at such a
Inne was an Ape of singular vertue and quality, if
they pleased to bestow their time and money to
see him. Now the townsmen being honest labour
ing Fishers, and [of] other painfull functions, had no
leasure to waste either time or coyne in Ape-tricks,
so that no audience came to the Inne, to the great
griefe of Jack an Apes his master : who, collecting
his wits together, resolued to aduenture to put a
tricke vpon the towne, whatsoeuer came of it;
whereupon hee tooke pen, inke and paper, and
wrote a warrant to the Mayor of the towne, as
followeth :
These are to will and require you, and euery of you,
with your wiues and families, that vpon the sight
hereof, you make your personall appearance before
the Queenes Ape, for it is an Ape of ranke and
quality, who is to bee practised through her Majesties
dominions, that by his long experience amongst her
louing subjects, hee may bee the better enabled to doe
her Majesty seruice hereafter; and hereof faile you
not, as you will answer the contrary. &c.
64 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
This warrant being brought to the Mayor, hee
sent for a shoomaker, at the furthest end of the
towne, to read it : which when he heard, hee sent
for all his brethren, who went with him to the
towne Hall to consult vpon this waighty businesse.
Where after they had sate a quarter of an houre,
no man saying anything, nor any man knowing
what to say : at last a young man, that neuer had
borne any office, said : Gentlemen, if I were fit to
speake, I thinke (without offence, vnder correction
of the worshipful) that I should soone decide this
businesse j to whom the Mayor said : I pray, good
neighbour, speake, for though you neuer did beare
any office here, yet you may speake as wisely as
some of vs. Then, sir, said the young man, my
opinion is that this Ape carrier is a gybing scoffing
Knaue, and one that doth purpose to make this
towne a jesting mocking stocke throughout the
whole kingdome : for was it euer knowne that a
fellow should be so impudent audacious as to send
a warrant, without either name or date, to a Mayor
of a towne, to the Queenes Lieutenant, and that
he with his brethren, their wiues and families,
should bee all commanded to come before a Jack
an Apes 1 My counsell is, that you take him and
his Ape, with his man and his dog, and whip the
whole messe or murrinall of them out of the
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 65
towne, which I thinke will be much for your credit,
if you doe.
At which words, a graue man of the towne being
much moued, said : My friend, you haue spoken
little better than treason; for it is the Queenes
Ape, and therefore beware what you say. You say
true, said master Mayor; I muse who bad that
saucy fellow come into our company. I pray thee,
my friend, depart; I thinke you long to haue vs
all hanged. So in briefe hee was put out of the
doores, for they were no company for him. Well
now what is to bee done in this matter ? Marry
(said another Senior), wee see by the Brooch in the
mans hat that hee is the Queenes man, and who
knows what power a knaue may haue in the Court
to doe poore men wrong in the country ? Let vs goe
and see the Ape, it is but two pence a peece, and
no doubt but it will be well taken ; and if it come
to the Queenes eare, shee will thinke vs kinde
people that would shew so much duty to her Ape ;
what may she thinke wee would doe to her Beares,
if they came hither 1 ? besides, it is aboue 200
miles to London, and if wee should bee com
plained on, and fetched vp with Pursiuants,
whereas now euery man may escape for his two
pence, He warrant it would cost vs ten groats
a peece at the least. This counsell passed currant,
66 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
and all the whole droue of the townsmen, with
wiues and children, went to see the Ape, who was
sitting on a table with a chaine about his necke ;
to whom master Mayor (because it was the
Queenes Ape) put off his hat, and made a leg ;
but Jacke let him passe vnregarded. But Mistris
Mayoresse, comming next in her cleane linnen,
held her hands before her belly, and, like a woman
of good breeding, made a low curtsie, whilst Jack
(still Court-like), although [hee] respected not the
man, yet to expresse his courtesie to his wife, hee
put forth his paw towards her and made a mouth,
which the woman perceiuing, said : Husband, I doe
thinke in my conscience that the Queenes Ape
doth mocke mee : whereat Jacke made another
mouth at her, which master Mayor espying, was
very angry, saying: Sirrah, thou Ape, I doe see thy
saucinesse, and if the rest of the courtiers haue
no more manners then thou hast, then they haue
all bin better fed then taught : and I will make
thee know before thou goest from hence, that this
woman is my wife, an ancient woman, and a
midwife, and one that may bee thy mother for age.
In this rage Master Mayor went to the Inne
doore, where Jack-an-Apes tutor was gathering
of money, to whom hee said : Sir, doe you allow
your Ape to abuse my wife ? No, sir, quoth the
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 67
other, not by any meanes. Truly, said the Mayor,
there is witnesse enough within that haue seene
him make mops and mowes at her, as if shee
were not worthy to wipe his shooes, and I will
not so put it vp. Jacks tutor replyed : Sir, I will
presently giue him condign e punishment : and
straight hee tooke his Flanders blade, his whip,
and holding his Ape by the chaine, hee gaue
him halfe a dozen jerks, which made his teeth
daunce in his head like so many virginall Jackes.
Which master Mayor perceiuing, ranne to him,
and held his hands, saying : Enough, enough, good
sir, you haue done like a Gentleman, let mee
intreat you not to giue correction in your wrath :
and I pray you and your Ape, after the Play is
done, to come to my house, and sup with mee and
my wife.
(10..)
This Tale I writ on ptirpose to sticke in the teeth of
my proud, sgeamish, nice, criticall reader.
A COUNTRY man brought his wiues water to a
Physitian, saying: Good morrow to your worship,
master Confusion. Physitian thou wouldst say,
said the other. Truly, said the fellow, I am no
scholler, but altogether vnrude, and very ingrum,
and I haue here my wiues water in a potle pot,
beseeching your mastership to cast it. So the
68 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
Physitian tooke the water, which hairing put into
an vrinall and viewed it, hee said : My friend, thy
wife is very weake. Truly, quoth hee, I thinke shee
bee in a presumption. A consumption thou wouldst
say, said the Physitian. I told you before, the
fellow replyed, that I doe not vnderstand your
allegant speeches. Well, quoth the Doctor, doth
thy wife keepe her bed 1 No, truly, sir, said hee ;
shee sold her bed a fortnight since. Verily, quoth
the Doctor, shee is very costiue. Costly, said the
man, your worship sayes true, for I haue spent all
that I haue vpon her almost. Said the Doctor : I
doe not say costly but costiue ; and I pray thee
tell mee, is shee loose or bound ? Indeed, Sir,
said the man, shee is bound to mee during her
life, and I am bound to her. Yea, but I pray
thee, said the Doctor, tell mee in plaine termes
how shee goes to stoole. Truly, said the fellow, in
plaine termes shee goes to stoole very strangely, for
in the morning it is so hard that your Worship can
scarce bite it with your teeth, and at night it is so
thin that you might eat it with a spoone.
(102.)
[SOME] good fellowes hauing well washed their wits
in wine at a tauerne, one of them was importunate
to bee gone ; to whom another of them said : I
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 69
pray thee be patient, talke no more of going, for if
thou wilt sit still but a little, thou shalt find that we
shal all be gone, though wee stay here.
(103.)
AN IDEOT, who dwelt with a rich vncle he had,
was by a Courtier begged for a foole ; which the
foole perceiuing, ranne home to his vncles Parlour,
which was fairly hung with Tapestry hangings, and
in euery one of the hangings was the figure of a
foole 1 wrought. So the foole watching his opor-
tunity, that no body was in the Parlour, hee tooke
a knife and cut the fooles pictures out of euery
hanging, and went and hid them in a hay mow,
which when his vncle came in and saw, hee was
(i) See Thorn's Anecdotes and Traditions (Camden Society, 1839),
p. 7. One of the Stories which Sir Nicholas Lestrange includes among
his " Merry Passages and Jests " is an account how the Lord North
begged old Bladwell for a foole {though he could never prove him so).
" Old Bladwell " was probably a member of the wealthy Norfolk family
of that name, and no doubt the Lord North had a pecuniary object in
begging him for a fool, or otherwise in proving him purus idiota. In
many countries persons of unsound mind are still treated with that
revolting inhumanity which was once their lot among us. The "jests "
recorded by Taylor and Lestrange (the latter quotes his mother as his
authority) reveal a curious state of society and of the law. But statistics
might easily be produced to show that at a very much later epoch matters
had not greatly improved in this respect. No doubt, the practice which
prevailed, even in the time of Charles II., of "begging men for fools,"
gradually expired ; but the laxity with which proofs of a person being
purus idiota were received, remained a scandal to English legislation
long after the reign of the Domestic Fools had come to an end. See
Additional Notes and Illustrations to this volume.
/o Taylors Wit and Mirth.
very angry, [and] demanded who had spoyled his
hangings. Ah nunckle, said the Ideot, I did cut
out all the fooles, for there is a great man at Court
that hath begged me for a foole, and he would
haue all the rich fooles he can heare of, therefore
did I cut them all out of your hangings, and I
haue hid them, where I thinke he will not find
them in hast.
A FELLOW being scoulded at by his Wife, would
make her beleeue he would drown himselfe : and
as hee went toward the riuer, his wife followed
him desiring him to forbeare, or at the least to let
her speake with him. Well, quoth hee, speake
briefly, for I am in haste. Then, husband, said shee,
seeing you will drown e your selfe, let mee intreat
you to take my counsell, which is, that you cast
not your selfe into this shallow place here, for it
will grieue my heart to see how long you will bee a
dying ; but goe with me a little way, and I will
shew you a deepe place, where you shall be dis
patched presently.
A WOMAN in Scotland lay dying, to whom her
husband said : Wife, now thou art about to leaue
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 7 1
mee alone, I pray thee tell me with whom shall I
marry. Shee replyed : are you in haste to marry
before the breath bee out of my body, then marry
the deuil's dam. Not so, wife, said hee ; I haue had
his daughter already, and if I should match with
his mother too, then I should be guilty of incest.
(106.)
THERE was a Gentleman that was of a very hasty
disposition, so that hee would fret and chafe almost
at all things, and be seldome pleased with any
thing, and withall was a great Tobacco taker. And
as one time hee beat and kick'd his man, the
fellow ran from him, and told one of his fellowes
that hee thought his master was transformed into
Brawne, for hee was all Choller, and that hee
thought the reason of his kicking was, because hee
dranke Colts-foot among his Tobacco.
(107.)
A DOCTOR of Physicke in Italy asked a waterman, 1
if hee might goe well by water ouer the River Po.
The fellow told him, Yea ; but the Doctor, when
hee came to the water side, and saw it was a little
rough weather, was very angry, and said : You
Watermen are the veriest knaues in the world, for
(i) Old ed. has watermen.
72 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
to gaine sixpence you care not to cast a man
away. To whom the Waterman replyed : Sir, it
appeares wee are men of a cheaper function and
better conscience then you ; for you sometimes
will not cast a man away vnder forty, fifty, or one
hundred crownes.
(108.)
ONE borrowed a cloake of a Gentleman, and met
one that knew him, who said: I thinke I know
that cloake. It may be so, said the other, I bor
rowed it of such a Gentleman. The other told him
that it was too short. Yea, but, quoth he that had
the cloake, I will haue it long enough, before I
bring it home againe.
(109.)
A POORE woman's husband was to be hanged at
the towne of Lancaster, and on the execution day
she intreated the Shrieue to be good to her and
stand her friend. The Shrieue said that he could
doe her no hurt, for her husband was condemned
and judged by the Law, and therefore hee must
suffer. Ah, good Master Shrieue, said the woman,
it is not his life that I aske, but because I haue
farre home, and my mare is old and stiffe ; therefore
I would intreat you to doe me the fauour to let
my husband be hanged first.
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 73
(no.)
ONE came into a Colledge in a Vniversity, and
asked how many Fellowes belonged to the house.
Another replyed, that there were more good fel-
lowes than good Schollers, two to one.
(mo
A FELLOW being drunke, was brought before a
Justice, who committed him to prison ; and the
next day, when hee was to be discharged, hee was
come to the Justice againe, who said to him :
Sirrah, you were not drunke the last night. Your
Worship sayes true, said the fellow. Yea, but you
were drunke, said the Justice ; and you did abuse
me, and said I was a wise Justice. The fellow
replied : If I said so, I thinke I was drunke indeed,
and I cry your Worship mercy, for I will neuer doe
you that wrong, when I am sober.
(112.)
A SPANIARD hauing but one eye chanced to meet
a man in the field, where, drawing both their
Rapiers, the other man with an infortunate thrust
strucke out the other eye of the Spaniard, whereat
the blind man suddenly cast downe his Rapier
74 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
saying : Buonas noches, which in the Spanish tongue
is, Good night.
("3-)
A REUEREND Preacher once reproued his Auditors
for sleeping at his Sermons, but [y]et (said he) I pray
you do not refrain coming to Church, though you
doe sleepe ; for God Almighty may chance to take
some of you napping.
A SAYLOR was absent on a voiage three yeeres ; in
the meane space, his wife had a boy 20 months old
to entertaine him withall at his returne. The Saylor
sayd : Wife, whose childe is this ? Marry, husband
(quoth she), it is mine, and God sent it me in your
absence. To which the man replied : I will keepe
this childe, because God sent him, but if God send
mee any more on that fashion, he shall keepe them
himselfe.
(us-)
A YOUNG fellow being newly married, hauing bin
from home, came suddenly into his house, and
found his wife at foule play with another man.
The poor young Cuckold ran presently, and told
his wiues father all the businesse, who replied
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 75
thus : Sonne, I married her mother, and I tell
thee plaine that thy wife seemes to bee her
daughter in conditions as well as feature, for I
haue taken her mother many times in that manner,
and no warning would serue her, till in the end
age made her leaue it, and so will thy wife doe,
when she is old and past it.
(.16.)
THREE Gossips in a Tauerne, chatting ouer a pint
of Sherry, said one of them : I muse whereabouts
a Cuckolds homes do grow ; quoth the second : I
thinke they doe growe in the pole or nape of
the necke ; verily, quoth the third, I doe thinke it
to bee true, for my husbands bands are always
worne out behind.
ONE called a W**** lazy jade. . Content yourself,
quoth another, as lazy as shee seemes, she is able
to carry a man quicke to the diuell.
(118.)
A COMPANY of Neighbours that dwelt all in one
rowe in one side of a street, one of them said :
Let vs be merry, for it is reported that we are
3- L
76 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
all Cuckolds that dwell on our side of the street
(except one). One of the women sate musing, to
whom her husband said : wife, what, all amort ?
Why art thou so sad ? No, quoth she, I am not
sad, but I am studying which of our neighbours
it is that is not a Cuckold.
A GENTLEMAN, being in a house of iniquity, or
Couzen-German to a Bawdy-house, the roome
being very darke, he called a lowd for a light
Huswife; to whom a wench made answer : I come
Incontinent.
He calsfor light, she vnderstood him right,
For shee was vanity which made her light :
She sayd, she would Incontinent 1 attend,
To make her Continent, she needs to mend.
(120.)
Two Mayds (or seruants) dwelling in a house
together, the one of them hauing occasion to vse
a steele smoothing Iron, or some such kinde of
Laundry instrument, and hauing sought it, and
not finding it, said to her fellow : thou dost mislay
euery thing in the house, and art so busie a
(i) Orig. has Incontinent,
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 77
baggage, that thou canst let nothing stand; to
which the other answered : and you are so way
ward and teasty, that a little thing troubles you,
and puts you in a great anger.
(121.)
IN a time of peace, a Captaine being in company,
where after dinner there was dancing, with whom
a Gentlewoman was desirous to dance, the Cap
taine said hee was made to fight, and not to dance :
to whom she answerd, that it were good that he
were oyl'd & hang'd vp in an Armoury till there
were occasion to vse him.
(122.)
ONE asked a huffing Gallant why hee had not a
Looking-Glasse in his Chamber. He answered :
he durst not, because hee was often angry, and then
he look'd so terribly that he was fearefull to looke
vpon himselfe.
(123.)
THERE was a fellow that (not for his goodnesse)
was whip'd at a Carts-tayle, and in his execution
he drew backward, to whom a Gentleman (in pitty)
said : Fellow, doe not draw backe, but presse for
ward, and thy execution and paynes will be the
78 Taylors Wit and Muth.
sooner past and done; to whom the Rogue an-
swerd: It is my turne now; when thou art whip'd,
doe thou goe as thou wilt, and now I will goe as
I please.
ONE said, that hee had trauaild so farre that he
had layd his hand vpon the hole where the winde
came forth ; a second said, that hee had beene at
the farthest edge of the world, and driuen a nayle
quite thorow it ; the third replide, that he had
beene further, for hee was then on the other side
of the world, and clencht that nayle.
(MS-)
THERE was a Pope who, being dead, it is said that
hee came to heauen gate and knock' d. Saint Peter
(being within the gate) asked who was there. The
Pope answered : brother, it is I, I am the last Pope
deceased. Saint Peter said : if thou be the Pope,
why dost thou knocke? thou hauing the keyes
mayst vnlocke the gate and enter. The Pope
replied, saying, that his predecessors had the keyes,
but since their time the wards were altered.
A RICH Miser, being reuiled by a poore man whom
he had oppressed, the rich man said : Thou dogge
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 79
leaue thy barking. The poore man answered, that
hee had one quality of a good dogge, which was,
to barke when hee saw a thiefe.
(127.)
A MAN being deeply in play at dice, hauing lost
much money, his sonne (a little lad) being by him,
wept. Quoth the father : Boy, why dost thou weepe 1
The boy answered, that hee had read that Alexander
the Great wept when he heard that his father (King
Philip) had conquered many Cities, Townes, and
Territories, fearing that hee would leaue him
nothing to winne ; and I weepe the contrary way
(quoth the boy), for I feare that my father will
leaue me nothing to loose.
AN Oppressor hauing feld all the trees in a
Forrest, which for a long time had beene the
reliefe of many poore people, sayd, that it was
as good as a Commedy to him to see the trees
fall ; to whom a poor man said : I hope as thou
makest a Commedy of our miseries, that three of
those trees may be reserued to finish a Tragedy
for thee and thy children.
80 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
(129.)
ONE lamented his friends hard fortune that, being
raysed to a place of honour, was growne sence-
lesse, forgetting all his old familiar acquaintance,
and so farre from knowing any man, that he knew
not himselfe.
THE Plough surpasseth the Pike, the Harrow ex-
celleth the Halbert, the Culter exceedeth the
Cuttleaxe, the Goad is better than the Gunne;
for the one sort are the instruments of life and
profit, and the other are the engines of death and
all kindes of calamities.
A POORE man is in two extremes : first, if he aske,
he dyes with shame ; secondly, if he aske not, he
dies with hunger.
ONE, being in office, was reproued for negligence ;
his excuse was, that it was his best policy to be
idle : for if he should doe ill he should displease
God, and if he should doe well he should offend
men : to whom one answered : you ought to doe
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 81
your duty, for in well doing you shall please God,
and in ill doing you shall please men.
WOMEN take great pleasure to be sued to, though
they neuer meane to grant.
(134.)
ONE said that Suiters in Law were mortall and
their suite immortall, and that there is more profit
in a quicke deniall then in a long dispatch.
(135.)
A TRAUAILER was talking what a goodly City Rome
was, to whom one of the company said, that all
Rome was not in Italy, for wee had too much
Rome in England,
A COUNTREY fellow came into Westminster Hall,
when one told him that the roofe of it was made
of Irish wood, and that the nature of it was such,
that no spider would come neere it, and he said
(further) that in Ireland no Toad, Snake, or Cater-
piller can Hue, but that the earth or the trees will
destroy them. Ah (quoth the Countrey man), I
wish with all my heart that the Benches, Barres,
82 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
and Flooring were all made of such earth and
wood, and that all Coaches, Barges, and Wherries,
were made of Irish Oake, that all our English
Caterpillers might be destroyed.
(137.)
MASTER Thomas Coriat (on a time) complained
against mee to King James, desiring his Majest
that hee would cause some heauy punishment to
bee inflicted vpon mee, for abusing him in writing
(as he said I had) ; to whom the King replide, that
when the Lords of his honourable Priuy Councell
had leisure, and nothing else to doe, then they
should heare and determine the differences be
twixt Master Coriat the Scholler, and John Taylor
the Sculler : which answere of the King was very
acceptable to Master Coriat. Whereupon I made
this following petitio to the King
TO
THE KINGS MOST
EXCELLENT MAJESTIE.
The humble petition of John Tailor, your
Majesties poore Water-Poet.
Sheweth,
Most Mighty Monarch of this famous lie,
( Vpon the knees of my submissive minde}
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 83
I begge thou wilt be graciously inclined,
To reade these lines my rusticke pen compile:
Know (Roy all Sir) Tom Coriate workes the wile
Your high displeasure on my head to bring;
And well I wot, the sot his words can file,
In hope my fortunes head-long downe to fling.
The King, whose wisedome through the world did ring,
Did heare the cause of two offending Harlots,
So, I beseech the (Great) great Britaines King,
To doe the like for two contending Varlots.
A brace of Knaues your Majesty implores,
To heare their suites as Salomon heard whores.
Si i&tibble-rabblE 1 of CGfossfps.
'"PHE space of a fortnight from the Bearbaiting, 2
houres and a halfe from the Windmill, about
4 of the Clocke in the forenoon, a little after supper
in the morning, betweene old mother Maudlin, of
the parish of Ideots, plaintiffe, of the one party,
and Gosip Gillian, of Gossips hall, in the parish
of Twattlebrough, of the other party, defedant.
A matter in controuersie depeding of issues, where
upon it was constulted by the right reuerend matron,
(i) See Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres, No. 39, andnote; Comodie
of Patient Grissil, 1603 (Shakeip. Soc. ed. pp. 88, 89) ; and Tinion, a play
(Shakesp. Soc. ed. p. 26).
84 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
madam Isabel, that Katherin should go no more a
maying with Susan in the coole of the Euening
before sun rising; whereupon Lister tooke the
matter in snuffe, and swore by the crosse of Andries
bugle bow, that Jone should jogge to Nans house
to borrow her poking sticke. Vpon this Philiday
starts vp very jeparately, and commands Marget to
make haste to Rachels house and borrow a doozen
of left-handed spoones. Now old Sibill all this
while sate mumping like a gib cat, and on the
sodaine she starts vp and thrusts Charity out of
doores, to take vp her lodging where she could
get it ; Doll being much offended to see Marget
inuited to Precillaes wedding, by no meanes could
suffer Abigaile to breake her fast before she got
victuals. Presently Betrice whispers Cisily in the
eare softly, that al the company heard it, and bad
her tell Alice that vnlesse she tooke heed, the pot
would run over and the fat lye in the fire ; at this
Mary clap'd her hands together, and entreats
Blanch to tell her Cozen Edith how she should
say that Luce should say, that Elizabeth should
doe the thing shee wots of. Amy hearing all this,
with a judiciall vnderstumbling capacity, at last
tells Parnell that her daughter Rebecka was gone
to lie at her Aunt Christians house in Shooing-
horne Alley. Now in the heat of all this businesse
Taylors Wit and Mirth. 85
Barbara tells Frances how there is good ale at the
labor in vain. The matter being brought to this
passe, Winifrit saies that her god-daughter Grace
is newly brought (God blesse the child), and that
Constance, the Comfit-makers wife, at the signe of
the Spiders leg must be Godship ; out, alas ! saies
Temperance, what haue I forgot ! I should haue
bin an houre agone at Prudences, the Landresse,
to haue taken measure of a payre of Cuffes for
her maid Dorcas. Now to conclude the businesse,
Martha protests that shee will neuer trust Tomasin
againe while she Hues, because she promised to
meet her at Pimlico and bring her neighbour
Bethya with her, and came not. Neuerthelesse
Faith went to mother Redcaps, and by the way
met with Joyce, who very kindly batled her penny
with her at a fat pig. Wei, quoth Sara, all this
winde shakes no corne, and I should haue bin a
starching mistresse Mercies lawne apron, and like
a good huswife I am prating heere. Neighbours
and friends, quoth Arbela, seeing the matter drawes
toward so good a conclusion, let's een haue the
tother pinte before we go ; truly, saies Jane, the
motion is not to be misliked, what say you, gossip
Vrsula? Truly, saies Ellin, I would go with you
with all my heart, but I promist to meet Lydia at
a Lector, that we might take a neighbourly nap
86 Taylors Wit and Mirth.
together. Vpon this rose a hurly-burly, that the
whole assebly dispersed themselues diuers wayes,
some one way, some another ; and in conclusion,
the businesse was all wisely ended as it was
begunne.
CONCEITS, CLINCHES, FLASHES,
AND WHIMZIES.
Conceits, Clinches, Flashes, and Whimzies. Newly studied,
with some Collections, but those never published before in this
kinde. London. Printed by R. Hodgkinsonne for Daniel
Frere, and are to be sold at the signe of the red Bull in
little brittain. 1639. I2 -
Of this volume, a recent discovery in this class of literature,
only one edition, and of that edition only one copy, is
known. Until the book accidentally fell into the hands of
Mr. Halliwell, it had never been seen by bibliographers ; but
in 1860, Mr. Halliwell reprinted six and twenty copies of the
new literary curiosity, and thus it became to a certain extent
accessible to those, who are interested in the existing remains
of early English literature. The collection is remarkable in
two respects, first on account of the previously unnoticed
mention of Shakespeare, at p. 49, and secondly because the
bulk of the anecdotes here brought together are original,
which is hardly ever the case in such compilations.
Of the Author of these facetiae nothing whatever is known ;
from the commendatory verses prefixed to the book he ap
pears to have been a friend of Thomas Rawlins, the poet
and dramatist ; but beyond this we have no clue. From the
Address to the Reader it is perhaps allowable to infer that
the following pages represent a selection from the Table Talk
of the Author and his friends.
It is just possible that the anonymous compiler was John
Taylor, the Water Poet, who published a collection entitled :
"Bull, Beare, and Horse, Cut, Curtaile, and Longtaile.
With Tales of Buls, Clenches, and Flashes, as also here
and there a touch of our Beare-Garden." Lond. 1638, 8.
Although there are several anecdotes reported in the follow-
ing pages which can scarcely be new to the reader, it is to
be recollected that they are here found in their original shape
and, in many cases, for the first time.
The edition of this work issued by Mr. Halliwell (London,
1860, 4) is a reproduction of the old text without any im
provements, and with very numerous errors. In the present
edition, both the text and the pointing have been consider
ably amended, the original having, apparently, been very
carelessly got up, and exhibiting several corruptions in the
language, and a punctuation more than usually negligent and
faulty. A few notes have also been added. It is necessary
to state that the copy used (which is, as the reader is
already aware, the only one known) is deficient of two leaves
between Jests 231 and 232; but in a publication, where
each paragraph is complete in itself, this hiatus is of far less
importance than in the case of a connected or continuous
narrative.
TO THE READER.
GENTLE Reader, I here present thee with the pro-
ducements of some vaporing houres, purposely in
tended to promote harmlesse mirth ; I wish thee as
merry in the reading as I and some other of my
friends were in speaking of them ; do but laugh at
them, and I am satisfied, for to that (and no other
purpose) they were intended
Jparcfoell
tfie &ut!)or on fit's Conceits.
, thy conceits, flown from the downey nes
Of thy rich fancy, lighted on my brest;
Where (let me tell thee true, for 'twere a sin
To flatter any, much more flatter him
I hold my friend] I found such ample store
In thy pure mine of gold and silver ore,
I became conscious that I sure was bound
Now to disclose to tK world what I had found,
And render to the readers; no close end
Could stop me from being theirs or thy true friend.
T. RAWLINS.
, gDItntfje*, Jplas&es anto
i.
A N idle justice of Peace is like the picture of
Saint George upon a signe-post with his
sword drawne to no purpose.
2.
Hee that speakes great gunpowder words may
be compared to a deepemouth'd Dogge, or bee
sayd to have a tympany in his tongue.
3-
A Souldier said hee had been in so many battels
and had been so battered with bullets, that hee
swore hee thought hee had a mine of lead in his
belly.
4-
Lovers oathes are like marryners prayers ; when
once the heate is over, they are not the same men.
Mi
8 Conceits, Clinches,
5-
Women are like dead bodies for surgeons to
worke upon, because they tell a man his imper
fections.
6.
Musitians may be compared unto Camelions,
because they live by ayre.
7-
One said it was a difficult thing to perswade a
multitude (especially in a City where they are for
the most part strongheaded) to any reason.
One was called foole for asking what Country
man a ploughman was ; because it is knowne, said
one, they were all borne in Hungarie.
9*
One asked a man whether he had swallowed a
Doctor of Phisickes bill, because hee spoke such
hard words.
10.
The philosopher's stone had need turne all
mettals to gold, because the study of it turnes all
a mans gold to other mettall.
Flashes and Whimzies, 9
ii.
One asked a poet where his wits were 1 He
answered a wool-gathering. The other replyed,
there was no people had more need of it.
12.
One asked whence choller was discended 1 t)ne
answered that shee was the daughter of a great
mans porter, begot of a kitchin wench in the time
of a feast.
13-
One asked another why hee loved woodcoke so
extreamly? The other answered, why not I as
well as you ? for I am sure you never go abroad
but you carry one under your cloake.
14.
One asked why a Knight tooke place of a
Gentleman. It was answered, because they were
Knights now a days before they were Gentlemen. 1
One said the midwives trade of all trades was
most commendable ; because they lived, not by
the hurts of other men, as Surgeons do, nor by
(i) This jest is a sneer at the profuseness which James the First and
his successor exhibited in the creation of knights, as a means of raising
money.
io Conceit s y Clinches,
the falling out of friends, as Lawyers do ; but by
the agreement betwixt party and party.
1 6.
One said a good Client was like a study gown,
that sits in the colde himselfe to keepe his Lawyer
warme.
17-
One said the fees of a pander and a punie
clarke are much alike; for the pander had but
two pence next morning for making the bed, and
that was a penny a sheet.
1 8.
A woman was commending a boyes face. 'Pish,
quoth another, give me a man's face ; a boyes face
is not worth a haire.
19.
One compar'd a domineering fellow to a walking
Spurre," that keeps a great jingling noise, but never
pricks.
20.
One said it was unfit a glasier should be a Con
stable, because he was a common quarreller. 1
(i) A guarelvf3.s the old term for a pane of glass, and qttareler was
synonymous with glazier.
Flashes and Whimsies. 1 1
21.
One said he had received a shee-letter, because,
saith he, it hath a young one in the belly of it.
22.
One asked the reason why Lawyer's Clearks writ
such wide lines. Another answered, it was done
to keepe the peace, for if the Plaintiffe should be
in one line and the Defendant in the next line, the
lines being too neare together, they might perhaps
fall together by the eares.
23-
One sayd hee was so tender hearted, that he
could not find in his heart to kill a louse ; another
answered that it proceeded only from fainthearted-
nesse, because hee had not the heart to see his
own blood.
24.
One said a rich.widdow was like the rubbish of
the world, that helps only to stop the breaches of
decayed houses.
25-
A master spoke in a straine his servant under
stood not, whereupon the servant desired his
12 Conceits, Clinches,
Master rather to give him blowes then such hard
words.
26.
Those that say gallants put all upon their backs
abuse them; for they spend a great deale more
upon their bellies.
27.
One said it was a strange fashion that we had
in England to receive money with wives, and give
money for wenches. It was answered that in
ancient time women were good, and then men
gave money for their wives; but now, like light
gold, they would not passe without allowance.
28.
One perswaded another to marry a w**** be
cause shee was rich, telling him that, perhaps, she
might turne. Turne, said the other, she hath been
so much worne that she is past turning.
29.
One put a jest upon his frend. O, said his
friend, that . I could but see your braines, I would
even hug them for this jest.
Flashes and Whimsies. 1 3
One asked why Sextons did use to weare black.
It was answered that in regard of their office they
were to meddle with grave matters, and did ther-
fore weare black.
One, seeing another weare a thred-bare cloake,
asked him whether his cloak was not sleepy or no 1 ?
Why do you aske ? said the other. Because, said
hee, I thinke it hath not had a nap this seven
yeeres.
3 2 -
One asked what was the usuall food of citizens
wives. It was answered, though they loved flesh
beter then fish, yet for temperance sake they would
so dyet themselves that at noon they fed only upon
carp, at night on cods head, and when they went
abroad, a little place would content them better
then any other thing.
33-
One wondred much what great Scholler this
same Finis was, because his name was almost to
every booke. 1
(i) This is the earliest witticism of the kind which T remember to hav
seen. In a broadside, entitled "The Parliaments Knell," and printed
14 Conceits, Clinches,
34-
One asked what he was that had a fine wit in
Jest. It was answered, a foole in earnest.
35-
One hearing a Usurer say he had been on the
pike of Teneriff (which is supposed to be one of
the highest hils in the world), asked him why he
had not stayd there, for he was perswaded hee
would never come so neere heaven againe. 1
A Citizen begins a health to all the Cuckolds in
the world ; the Gentleman, to whom the health was
presented seeing him with his cap in his hand,
said, what doe you mean, Sir ? pray ye, remember
your selfe.
37-
One asked a foot-boy why he was so affected
with linnen stockings ? He answered, because he
was troubled with running legges.
about 1647, the author is described as Mr. Finis. The disputed question
as to whether Shakespeare's plays were written by Mr. Preface or
Mr. Finis is well known.
(i) This story, in a variety of forms, is in many of the jest-books.
Flashes and Whimsies. 1 5
38.
One sayd to another that his face was like a
popish almanack, all holydayes, because it was
full of pimples.
39-
One sayd it was a good fashion that was worn
now a dayes, because the Taylers had so contrived
it that there was little or no waste in a whole suit.
40.
One said a jellous wife was like an irish trouze,
alwayes close to a mans tayle.
41.
One said an Apothecaryes house must needs be
healthfull, because the windowes, benches, boxes,
and almost all the things in the house, tooke
phisick.
42.
One said a Physitian was naturall brother to the
wormes, because he was ingendered out of mans
corruption.
43-
One gave a fellow a box on the eare, the fellow
gave him another. What doe you meane? (sayd
1 6 Conceits, Clinches y
he that gave the first box) I did not lend you a
box, I freely gave it you. The other answered, he
was a gamester, and had been alwayes us'd to pay
the box.
44-
A Gentleman that bore a spleene to another
meets him in the street, gives him a box on the
eare ; the other, not willing to stricke againe, puts
it off with a jest, asking him whether it was in
jest or in earnest 1 The other answers it was in
earnest. I am glad of that, said he, for if it had
been in jest, I should have been very angry, for I
do not like such jesting ; and so past away from
him.
45-
One that was justly jealous of his wife said,
prethee, leave these courses, for if thou dost not,
they will, ere it be long, make me home mad.
46.
One sayd to a gentleman that was too full of
complement : pray you, Sir, do not spend so much
wit ; if you be so prodigall of it, you will, ere it be
long, have none left for your selfe.
Flashes and Whimzies. 17
47-
There is nothing, sayes one, more revengfull
then hemp : for if a man once beat it, especially
in Bridewell, 'tis a hundred to one but it will be
the death of him shortly after.
48.
Hee that sweares when he loseth his mony at
gaming, may challeng hel by way of purchase.
49-
One asked which were supposed to be the two
fruitfullest acres of ground in the whole Kingdome.
It was answered, Westminster Hall and the old
Exchange.
50-
It was asked why fat men did love their ease so
much. Because, sayd one, the soule in a fat body
lyes soft, and is therefore loath to rise.
One asked why yong Barristers used to stick
their chamber windowes with letters. Because,
said another, it was the first thing that gave the
world notice of their worships.
1 8 Conceits, Clinches ;
One having dranke a cup of dead beere, swore
that the beer was more then foxed ; another, de
manding his reason : quoth he, because it is dead
drunke.
53-
Usurers live, sayes one, by the fall of heires,
like swine by the dropping of acorns.
54-
One sayd a prodigall was like a brush that spent
it self to make others goe handsome in their cloathes.
55-
One wondred what pleasant kind of oratory the
Pillory had in him, that men lov'd to have their
eares nail'd to it.
56.
One said : suppose all the women in the world
were like patient Grizell ; then, sayd another,
we might make Christmas bloks of the cucking-
stooles.
57-
An Antiquary, says one, loves every thing (as
Dutchmen doe cheese) for being mouldy and worm-
eaten.
Flashes and Whimzies. 19
58.
One said a Player had an idle imployment of it.
O, you are mistaken, sayd another, for his whole
life is nothing else but action.
59-
One asked his friend how he should use tobacco
so that it might do him good ? He answered : you
must keepe a tobacco shop and sell it, for certainly
there is none else find good in it.
60.
A simple fellow in gay cloths, sayes one, is like
a Cinnamom tree ; the barke is of more worth then
the body.
61.
If a man be Cornelius, sayes one, he must be
Tacitus too, otherwise he shall never live quietly.
62.
One entreated a prisoner to do him a curtesie,
telling him that hitherto he had found him a fast
friend, and he hoped hee should find him so still.
63.
A gentleman riding on the way would needs
turne back to kisse his wife that was behinde him ;
2O Conceits, Clinches,
he was therefore commended for a kind husband,
in regard he was before, to kisse his wife behinde.
64.
One asked whether such a man were wise or no ?
It was answered that he was otherwise.
65-
One perswaded a Scholer that was much given
to going abroad that he would put away his cushion,
and it would be a meanes to make him sit harder
to his study.
66.
One said poetry and plain dealing were a couple
of hansom wenches, Another answered : yes, but
he that weds himselfe to either of them shall dye
a begger.
67.
One sayd he had heard the story of St. George
how he kild the Draggon that would else have de
voured the maide, and did wonder that men would
devise such lies; 1 for, saith he, it is held by most
(i) This is a rather lame and wire-drawn version of a story which may
be found in Aubrey's Remains of Gentilism and Judaism, (Thorns'
Anecdotes and Traditions, p. 101). Aubrey has preserved the following
verses :
" To save a mayd, St. George the Dragon slew,
A pretty tale, if all is told, be true :
Most say there are no dragons, and 'tis sayd,
There was no George : pray God there was a mayd ! ! "
Flashes and Whimsies. 2 1
men that there was never such a man as St. George,
nor ever such a creature as a Dragon. Another
answers for St. George : tis no great matter neither
for the Draggon, whether there were such or no; pray
heaven there be a maide, and then it is no matter.
68.
A Scholar and a Courtier meeting in the street
seemd to contest for the wall ; sayes the Courtier :
I do not use to give every coxcombe the wall.
The Schollar answered : but I do, sir ; and so passed
by him.
69.
One asked the reason why women were so
crooked and perverse in their conditions. Another
answered : because the first woman was made of a
crooked thing.
70.
A rich Lawyer, that had got a great estate by the
Law, upon his death bed was desirous to give twenty
pound per annum to the house of Bedlam. Being
demanded why he would give it to that house
rather then another, he answered that he had got
it of mad men, and to them he would give it
againe.
3- N
22 Conceits, Clinches,
One said women were like quick sands, seemed
firme ; but if a man came upon them, he fell in over
head and shoulders.
72.
Another said a woman was like a peece of old
Grogram, alwayes fretting.
73-
One asked why men should thinke there was a
world in the Moone. It was answered, because
they were lunatique. 1
74-
One asked why Ladyes called their husbands
Master such a one, and master such a one, and
not by their titles of knighthood, as Sir Thomas,
Sir Richard, Sir William, etc. It was answered
that, though others called them by their right titles,
as Sir William, Sir Thomas, etc., yet it was fit their
wives should master them.
(i) Bishop Wilkins' work, entitled, "A Discovery of a New World,"
had just (1638) appeared, and had no doubt given rise to a good deal of
discussion on this old and whimsical question.
Flashes and Whimsies. 23
75-
One asked, what was the first commodity a
yong shopkeeper put off. It was answered, his
honestie.
76.
One asked why Icarus would undertake to flye
in the ayre. It was answered, because he was a
Buzzard.
77-
Two Gentlemen talking in latin in the presence
of a woman, she grew jealous that they spake of
her, and desired them to speake english that she
might answer them, for she said she was perswaded
when men spake latin, although they spake but
two words, that still one of them was nought :
whereupon one of the Gentlemen sayd presently,
Bona mulier. She replyed : I know bona is good,
but lie warrant ye the other word meanes some
thing that's nought.
78.
A simple fellow, being too bold with one that
was his superior, was told he might say what he
would for that day, because it was Innocents day,
it being so indeed.
24 Conceits, Clinches,
79-
One said a barber had need be honest and trusty,
because whosoever employed him, though it was
but for a haire matter, put his life into his hands.
A suit in Law being referd to a Gentleman, the
plantiffe, who had the equity of the cause on
his side, presented him with a new coach ; the
Defendant, with a couple of horses : he, liking the
horses better then the coach, gave sentence on the
Defendants side. The Plaintiffe calls to him, and
asketh him how it came to passe the coach went
out of the right way. He answers that he could
not help it, for the horses had drawne it so. 1
81.
One perswaded his friend to marry a little woman,
because of evils the least was to be chosen.
82.
One asked how it came to passe that hosts had
usually red noses. It was answered, that it was
^i) This is a very favourite jest, and is found in several of the early
collections.
Flashes and Whimsies. 25
given to them by nature to show to the world an
experiment of the vertue of what [t]he[y] sold.
83-
A vaine glorious man was bragging that his
Father and his Uncle had founded such a Hospitall.
One answered, 'tis true, but yet know that your
Father and your Uncle were the meere confounders
of that Hospitall you speake of.
84.
One said a tooth drawer was a kind of an uncon
scionable trade, because his trade was nothing else
but to take away those things whereby every man
gets his living.
85-
One asked why he that drew beere was not called
a drawer as well as he that drew wine ? It was
answered, that beere made a man to p****, but it
was wine made him draw.
86.
One said he wondred that lether was not dearer
then any other thing. Being demanded a reason :
because, saith he, it is more stood upon then other
thing in the world.
26 Conceits, Clinches,
87.
One said a hangman had a contemplative pro
fession, because he never was at work but he was
put in mind of his owne end.
88.
One called another rogue. He answered : durst
I trust thee with a looking glasse, you would quit
me, and condemne yourselfe.
8 9 .
A fellow, that had no money in his pocket, was
in a great rage with another, who told him : pray,
sir, do not put yourselfe into too much heat, unlesse
you had more money in your pocket whereby to
quench it.
90.
One being asked what countryman he was, he
answered, a Middlesex man. The other told him
[it] being he was neither of the male sex nor of the
female sex, but of a middlesex, he must then be a
Hermaphrodit.
91.
One sayd corne was a quarrelsome creature, be
cause it rose by the blade, and fel by the eares with
those that cut it.
Flashes and Whimzies. 27
92.
Why do Ladies so affect slender wastes'? (said
one.) 'Tis (replied another) because their ex-
pences may not bee too great.
93-
One commending a Tayler for his dexteritie in
his profession, another standing by ratified his
opinion, saying tailors had their businesse at their
fingers ends.
94.
One, being demanded the reason why he thought
the greatest drinkers quickest of apprehension,
made this answer : Qui super naculum bibit ad
unguem sapit.
95-
A Poet, sayes one, is a man of great priviledge,
because, if he transgresse, it is by a rule, viz.,
Licentia poetica.
96.
The severest stoicks (said one) are the greatest
Students, because their contracted browes are
alwayes bent to study.
28 Conceits, Clinches,
97-
Colliers and mine-workers should be well ac
quainted with all the philosophicall secrets of the
Earth, because they have deeper knowledge in it
then any others.
98.
Tapsters, said one, should bee men of esteem,
because they are men not only of a high calling,
but also of great reckoning.
99.
Tis impossible that Saylers should be rich men,
because they are never so well pleased as when
they go downe the wind fastest.
100.
A woman said of all men she had a desire to
marry a Huntsman, because he would not disdaine
to weare the home.
101.
Of all knaves there's the greatest hope of a
Cobler, for though he be never so idle a fellow, yet
he is still mending.
Flashes and Whimzies. 29
102.
A Smith, said one, is the most pragmaticall fellow
under the Sun, for he hath alwayes many irons in
the fire.
103.
The neatest man in a Kingdome (sayd one) is a
Barber, for he cannot endure to have a hair amisse.
104.
Wit bought is better then wit taught, because he
that never bought any is but a naturall wit.
105.
Tis probable that those women that paint most
shall live longest ; for where the house is kept in
repaire, there is no feare but it will be inhabited.
106.
One said that tall men of all others were most
happy, because they were neerer heaven then all
other men.
107.
A squint-ey'd man (says one) is the most circum
spect of all men, because he can look nine wayes
at once. 1
(i) The sailors still say of a squint-eyed person, that "he looks nine
ways for Sundays."
3O Conceits, Clinches,
108.
One said that tal men should be great polititians,
because they have an extraordinary reach.
109.
One sayd hang-men were very happy, because
those men they do most hurt will never be able to
render them quid pro quo.
1 10.
It is in some sort necessary that some rich men
should be Dunces, because the pretenders to learning
may get preferment : for the good wits will be able
to help themselves.
in.
One was saying it was a fine quality to be able
to speak wel ex tempore. Why then, said another,
we may commend every woman : for they have the
most nimble, fluent tongues, and that without study
or consideration.
112.
Hang-men practice their cunning for the most
part on good natur'd men, because they are ready
to forgive, before the hurt be attempted.
Flashes and Whimsies. 3 1
Hee that hath but one eye is more like to hit the
marke he aymes at then another, because he hath a
monstrous sight.
114.
Glasiers, said one, must needes be good arbitra
tors, for they spend their whole time in nothing but
composing of quarels. 1
US-
Carpenters, said one, are the civelest men in a
Common-wealth, for they never do their buisinesse
without a Rule.
116.
Of all wofull friends a hangman is the most
trusty : for, if he once have to do with a man, he
will see him hang'd before hee shall want mony or
any thing else.
117.
Bricklayers are noteable wanton fellowes, for they
have alwayes to do with one trull 2 or other.
(1) It has been already explained, that a square or pane of glass is
sometimes called a quarrel.
(2) This jest depends on the similarity of sound between trull and
trowel. The two words were very probably pronounced by our an
cestors very much alike.
32 Conceits, Clinches,
118.
Stationers could not live, if men did not beleeve
the old "saying, that Wit bought is better then Wit
taught.
119.
Those that carry about with them counterfeit
coyne are more nice and curious of it, then of
"good Gold or Silver: for they cannot endure to
have that toucht of all the rest.
1 20.
Gunners are more serious in what they doe
then other men : for what they doe they doe with
a powder.
121.
Muscattiers of all other Souldiers are the most
lazie : for they are alwayes at their rest. 1
122.
One, among a company of his companions, who
had been drinking very much, by chance let a ****,
who, for conceit sake, said to one of his com
panions with whom he might make bold : pree-thee
(i) The rest for the musket is here referred to.
Flashes and Whimsies. 33
pledge me; he answered, I cannot; he then re-
ply'd : I pray do but kisse the cup.
123.
One passing through Cheap side, a poore Woman
desired his charity ; he, disregarding the woman,
kept on walking, and by and by let a ****. The
woman, hearing it, said, much good may it do your
worship ; he, hearing her say so, turnes backe and
gives her a tester ; she thank't him, and told his
worship it was a bad wind, that did blow nobody
good.
124.
A man walking the street let a great ****, upon
which he jestingly said : cracke me that nut. It
being heard of a waggish wench that was in a
chamber over his head, who being well provided
at that time with a perfum'd chamber-pot, throws
it out of the window upon his head, saying, there's
the kernill of your nut, Sir.
125.
One said a Miller was the fittest husband for a
Scold, because when the mil goes, if her tongue
goes ne're so fast, it cannot be heard.
34 Conceits, Clinches,
126.
One said that Duke Humfrey's guests were the
most temperate men in the world, it being known
that at his Table there was never any made drunke,
nor with his dyet dyed of a surfet. 1
127.
One said Physitians had the best of it ; for, if they
did well, the world did proclaime it ; if ill, the earth
did cover it.
128.
It is a necessary and fit thing that women learn
Roman-hand, because (saith one) they were never
good Secretaries, nor ever will be.
129.
One saw a man and his wife fighting ; the people
asked him, why he did not part them. He answered
that he had been better bred then to part man and
wife.
ISO-
One said that Tobacconists would endure the wars
well, for they would never be stifled with fire and
smoake.
(i) This anecdote turns, of course, on the familiar phrase "to dine
with Duke Humphrey."
Flashes and Whimzies. 35
A drawer for one thing or other is alwayes ap
pearing at the barre but is not punisht, yet notwith
standing 'tis all scor'd up.
132
Scriveners are most hard harted fellowes, for
they never re Joyce more then when they put other
men in bonds.
133-
Smiths of all handy-crafts men are the most
irregular, for they never thinke themselves better
employed, then when they are addicted to their
vices.
Those which weare long haire are in the readyest
way to make good Fryars, for they may promise to
themselves the happinesse to enjoy bald crownes
without the help of a Barber.
135-
Tapsters are not only very rash but very expert,
for they are apt to draw upon all occasions, and
yet suffer very few to go away scot-free.
36 Conceits, Clinches,
136.
Of al diseases the three-quarters harme 1 is most
dangerous and most desired : for all women desire
to multiply, though they labor ne'er so hard for 't.
Fidlers are very unfortunate in their calling, for
they never do anything but it is against the haire. 2
138.
Trumpeters are much subject to sickly dis
tempers; for commonly, when they are most in
health, they will fall a sounding. 3
139-
One being asked, where he thought al woodcocks
remain d in the Summer-time when they are not
scene with us, it was answered, in new England.
140.
Horse-keepers and ostlers (let the world go
which way it will, though there be never so much
alteration in times and persons) are still stable
men.
(i) i.e. the period of parturition. (2) i.e. the fiddlestring.
(3) A play on the words swooning or swoning and sounding must
be here understood by the charitable reader. Formerly, perhaps, the iu
in swound was sometimes dropped in familiar conversation.
Flashes and Whimzies. 37
141.
One said it was no great matter what a drunkard
said in his drinke, for he seldome spake any thing
that he could stand to.
142.
A hypocrite is odious (saies one) to God, to
Man, and to the Devill. God hates him, because
he is not what he seemes, Man hates him, because
he seemes what he is not, and the Devill hates him,
because he seems not what he is truly and indeed.
143-
One said of all professions, that Stage-players
were the most philosophicall men that were, be
cause they were as merry and as well contented,
when they were in rags as when they were in robes.
144.
Great Eaters are the most valiant men, for they
never fight but with a good stomacke.
145-
One asked what the reason was that few women
loVd to eat egges. It was answered, because they
cannot endure to beare the yoke.
3- o
38 Conceits, Clinches,
146.
One, drinking of a cup of burnt claret, said he
was not able to let it down. Another demanded
why. He answered, because it was red hot.
147.
A poor man that lived in the Suburbs of London
being owner of a little field, had got together so
much mony to buy two little fields more of an
acre of ground apeece, yet he was said to be rich,
because he had purchased More fields.
148.
One said roaring Gallants were like Pedlers, be
cause some of them did carry their whole estates
upon their backs.
149.
One said that some Taylors were like Woodcocks,
because they lived by their long bils.
150.
An Oculist is excellent at sleight of hand : for,
if he undertake to cure a blind man, he will so do
it that the patient shall see he does it.
Flashes and Whimzies. 39
One said it was dangerous to wrong a Phisitian,
because, if he once have to do with a man, he will
be sure to make him stinke.
152.
An Inkeeper brag'd he had a bed so large that
two hundred Constables had lyen in it at one time,
meaning two Constables of hundreds.
153.
He that byes a horse in Smith field, and does not
looke upon him, before he buye him, with a paire
of spectacles, makes his horse and himself a paire
of sorrofull spectacles, for others to looke on.
154.
A prison is a good instrument of reformation,
for it makes many rogues and lewd fellowes staid
men.
155.
One complaining that his Sonne was a very
prodigall, and that he would give an hundred
pounds to have him reclaimed, his neighbor, that
heard him complaine, answer'd : let him be a
French-Tayler, for they make no waste.
02
40 Conceits, Clinches,
156.
A wax-chandlers shop being rob'd, one of his
friends came to comfort him, and told him he
should not be troubled at it, for he durst under
take his goods would come to light.
157.
One demanded of a wild yong Gentleman the
reason why he would sel his land. Who an
swered, because he hoped to go to heven, which
he could not possibly do, til he forsook earth.
158.
In the Common-wealth of Fishes are many
officers Herring the King, Swordfish his guard ;
Lobsters are Aldermen, Crabs are Constables, and
poor Johns the common sort of people.
159.
An idle unthrift, having nothing left to maintaine
his humor of good fellowship but his bed, sold it,
for which being reproved by some friends, he
answered that he could never be well, so long as
he kept his bed.
160.
Coblers may be said to be good men, because
Flashes and Whimsies. 41
they set men upright, and are ever imployed in
mending of soles.
161.
Two men seeing a handsome Wench, but thought
to be light, pass by in a very poore habit, the one
said : it was a wonder to see such a wench so bare ;
the other replied, it was no wonder, for she was
common.
162.
A drunken fellow, returning home towards even
ing, found his wife hard at her spinning ; she
reprooving him for his ill husbandry, and com
mending herself for her good huswifery, he told
her that she had no great cause to chide : for, as
she had been spinning, he came home all the way
reeling.
163.
An ignorant drunken Surgeon that kil'd all men
that came under his hands, boasted himselfe a better
man then the Parson ; for, said he, your Cure main
tains but yourselfe, but my Cures maintaine all the
Sextons in the Towne.
164.
A merry fellow said the Ale-house was the only
42 Conceits, Clinches,
place to thrive in, for he had knowne many a score
made there.
Musitians may be said to be the best Pnilo-
sophers, for they will be sure to keepe time.
166.
A woman, that was very imperious over her
husband, was nick-nam'd by a neighbor and cal'd
Mistres Cap, for which she angerlie demanded his
reason, and was answered, because she was alwayes
above her head.
167.
The same woman with her riotous humors hav
ing undone her husband, and he being broken and
fled, the same neighbor reproving her, she bade
him not medle with what did no way belong to
him, for she had only broken her owne head.
168.
A Lady that was painted, tould a Gentleman she
desired much to have her picture done to the life ;
to which he answered : you need not that, Madam,
for you are a picture to the life already.
Flashes and Whimsies. 43
169.
A Gentleman whose name was Stone, falling off
his horse into a deep water, out of which he got
not without some danger, his companion laugh'd
at the mischance, and being reproved, answered
that no man but would laugh to see a stone swim.
170.
A foolish Gentleman, deformed likewise in his
person, was called by one a monster. Nay, surely,
said another, the Gentleman is meerly naturall.
171.
A country fellow asking which way he might go
to Bedlam, a Citizen tould him the nearest way was
to be mad. Then, said the Country fellow, you
horn-mad Citizens may the better direct us that are
Country-men.
172.
A common wench stepping into a boate fell into
the water, and reaching her hand to be helped out,
one refus'd it, saying she need not fear drowning,
for she was so light, she could never sinke.
173-
One threatned a fellow to breake his head with
44 Conceits, Clinches,
a stone. I'le assure you (quoth he) it is a hard
matter to breake my head with a stone.
174.
A boy seemed much delighted with a Coblers
worke, commending and admiring his workman
ship. The Cobler, pleased with the boyes admira
tion, asked him if he would be of his trade. To
which he answered no ; for though he loved work
manship he could not endure cobling.
175-
One hearing a rich Gentleman (but ignorant
enough) discourse somewhat weakly how much
land there was holden in capite, asked him if his
wit was held in capite, to which he answered no.
The other asked him again, if he had not some fe-
simple held in capite, to which he answered yes ;
and that it did descend to him and his heires
for ever.
176.
A Physitian demanded money of another for one
of his patients that was dead long before. He
was answered that it was a worke of charity to
Flashes and Whimzies. 45
visit the sick ; but if he was so earnest for mony,
the only way was for him to visit the dead, and
then he would never want money more,
177.
A rich Stationer wisht himselfe a Scholler; to
whom one answered, you are one already, being
doctus in libris. Nay, said the Stationer, I am but
dives in libris, meaning rich in pounds.
178.
One boasted himselfe to be esteemd a wit,
saying the world spoke him to be all wit. One,
standing by, that knew him very well, said, is't
possible that you are taken to be a wit or one that
is all-wit ; if you be all wit, then your anagram is
wit-all.
179.
A Gentleman hawk'd in anothers ground, to
which the surly owner shewed himselfe angry, at
which the Gentleman spet in his face. What is
your reason for that ? said the farmer. I cry you
mercy, said the Gentleman, I gave you warning, for
I hawk'd before I spet.
46 Conceits, Clinches,
1 80.
One running hastely with a stick of fire in his
hand to light a fagot, another called him rogue,
which being angry and demanding his reason, he
answered, for that he had a brand in his hand.
181.
A patient man, being domineer'd over by his
wife that was flying about his eares, desired her
not to teare his band, for he would gladly weare
it (if she pleased) without cuffs.
182.
One was saying that lead was the basest of all
other mettals. It is true, said another, but yet it
is the stoutest, for the glasier will tell you that it
keepes more quarrels asunder then any other
mettal in the world.
A Joyner on a time tooke a pill, and it so wrought
with him, that he had fourty stooles in a minute of
an houre.
184.
Carriers, said one, are wise men, for they will
Flashes and Whimzies, 47
not medle with any thing, but they will know of
what moment and waight it is.
185.
One whose name was Gun called a woman
wh***. She, being moved at it, had him before a
justice of peace about it. The justice reprov'd him
for it, and deepely charged him not to call her so
againe. As they were going home, the woman
told him : Master Gun, you heard what the justice
said ; I hope, being so deeply charg'd, you will
hence-forward give a better report.
1 86.
One said Painters were cunning fellowes, for
they had a colour for every thing they did.
187.
One asked why kitchin-maids went so sluttishly,
in regard they drest themselves as cleanly as they
did their meat
1 88.
One was holding a stiffe argument with a Grocer
concerning matters of trade. The Grocers wife bid
him leave contesting with her husband, for her
48 Conceits, Clinches,
husband was able to shew him a thousand reasons 1
for one.
189.
One said to his friend that had been speaking :
I love to heare a man talke nonsense ; the other
answered, I know you love to heare youre selfe
talke as well as any man.
190.
One asked why begars stood in the streets
begging with broomes in their hands. It was
answered, because they did with them sweep away
the durt out of peoples sight, which while they had
a mind on they would never part with a penny.
191.
A Gentleman tooke up some commodities upon
trust in a shop, promising the master of the shop
that he would owe him so much money. The
master of the shop was therewith very well con
tented ; but seeing that the Gentleman delayed
the paiment, he asked the money. The gentle
man told him he had not promised to pay him,
he had promised to owe him so much money, and
that he would in no wise breake his promise,
which if he paid him he did.
(i) We have here, perhaps, a clue to the old pronunciation of raisin.
Flashes and Whimsies. 49
192.
One said he had been kept still to the schoole,
and had been made a scholler, if he could but
have learned to have declined mulier, and for that
cause was taken from the schoole.
193-
One desired upon his deathbed to have his
corps when he was dead stuck with Isop, 1 as is the
fashion in divers places. One of his neighbors
sitting by told him Time was better. Why 1 said
the sick man. Because, said the other, unlesse
you be buried in time you will stinke, that no
creature will be able to go with you to the grave.
194.
One asked another what Shakespeares works
were worth, all being bound together. He an
swered, not a farthing. Not worth a farthing ! said
he ; why so 1 He answered that his plays were
worth a great deale of mony, but he never heard,
that his works were worth any thing at all.
195'
One was commending of the point-makers for
(i) Hyssop.
50 Conceits, Clinches,
good distinct readers, and that they read better
then any other people whatsoever. Another asked
his reason. He answered, that since the fashion
of Cassocks came up, they kept their points, and
that was the only way to make a mans reading
graceful.
196.
Two Poets being merry in a taverne, the one was
desirous to be gone, the other entreated him to
stay, telling him that, if he did goe away, he would
make a comedie upon him. You shall get nothing
by that, reply'd the other, for then I will make a
tragedy on thee, and in the latter end of it thou
shalt hang thy selfe.
197.
One, meeting his friend riding on the way with
out boots, asked him about what busines he rid.
The other told him that his businesse was of great
importance, and he was likewise in great haste. I
am very doubtfull then, said he, that your labor
is lost. Why 1 said he. Because, quoth the other,
you ride of a bootlesse errand.
198.
One, being at supper at a friends house, [where] it
chanced there was mutton and capers for supper,
Flashes and Whimsies. 5 1
fell into a discourse of dancing, saying, that he
loved it better then any other kind of recreation ;
by and by, taking notice of the capers which he had
never seen before, [he] tooke one upon his trencher,
cut it in the midle, and put the halfe of it into his
mouth. The master of the house, observing it, said :
Sir, it seemes you love dancing very well, when
you cannot forbeare but you must cut capers at
supper.
I 99-
A fellow had the pictures of the five senses
stolne out of his house, whereupon he came to a
justice, and desired that the theeves might be
bound to the peace. For what ? said the justice :
for stealing your pictures 1 Yes, saith he. I
thought, said the justice, you had lost your senses,
that you talke so idly.
200.
One amongst a crowd of people on the top of
Pauls steeple had his pocket pickt. What villaines
are these, quoth he, to pick a mans pocket in the
Church ! Nay, Sir, said another, you are but rob'd
upon the high-way.
52 Conceits, Clinches,
201.
One asked another what gender Hermaphroditus
was of. He answered, of the neuter.
202.
One complain'd he knew not how to maintaine
his barns. Be a good husband, quoth another,
and your barns will maintaine you. 1
203.
A rude deboist 2 young man was plac'd by his
friends with a Proctor who, observing the mis
behaviour of the yong man, told his parents, he
feared their Sonne would never make a civil Lawyer.
204*
In some merry company one bid another mend
his jests, for they were all crackt. They ought to
be so, said he, for it is no jest, till it be broken.
205.
One, sitting by the fire to take tobacco, said the
fire was his friend, and presently spet into it : to
which one replyed : you doe not well to quench
your friends love by spetting in his face.
(i) This story turns on the double meaning of the two words hiisband
and barn (bairn). (aj Debauched.
Flashes and Whimzies. 5 3
206.
A sawcy fellow abusing a Gentleman whose name
was Fisher, the Gentleman strooke him ; for which
being reproved and threatned with an action : is
it not lawful!, said he, for a fisher to strike a jack ?
207.
Two schollers walking along a River were stiffely
arguing a point, and wish'd for a moderator or a
booke of some authority. One of them, presently
espying an angler sitting on a tree, cryed out : we
have our wish ! for yonder \spiscator upon ramus.
208.
Two Gentlemen comming into a taverne, one of
them called for a quart of claret. Why doe you
love claret ? said the other ; for my part, I'le see it
burnt, before I'le drinke a drop of it.
209.
A Gentleman [was] shewing a yong student a
part of Scotus in this sentence in an old caracter
wherein was printed Dominus Scotus in Sententia,
and asked him, if he was not Dunce Scotus. No,
replied the scholler, that can not 1 be except V 2 be
there.
(i) Old ed. has on not. (2) i.e. it (you).
3- P
54 Conceits, Clinches,
210.
One said Gallants had reason to be good Schol-
lers, because they were deep in many books.
211.
One, seeing a printed booke that was but one
sheet of paper, said it was not necessary for any
man to libell it, for it did penance in a sheet
already.
212.
One asked which of the letters in the Alphabet
were the most authentique in a Bill or Bond. It
was answered, i o v.
213.
One asked why men and their wives did not
agree better now adayes. It was answered, men
were now more learned, and did know that it was
false concord that the masculine and femenine
gender should agree at all.
214.
A Scholler, that had his study hung round with
browne paper, was us'd (when any came in to visit
him in his study) to say, he did love sometimes to
sit in a browne study.
Flashes and Whimsies. 5 5
215.
Two being in a taverne, the one swore the other
should pledge him. Why then, quoth the other, I
will; who went presently downe the staires, and
left him as a pledge for the reckoning.
216.
One asked, wherefore a drum was in the wars.
It was answered, to stirre up valour in the souldiers.
That is strange, said the other, for, wheresoever the
victory falls, the drums are sure to be beaten.
217.
One asked why B stood before c. Because, said
another, a man must B before he can c.
218.
One asked how long the longest letter in the
english Alphabet was. It was answered, an L
long.
219.
One asked why some gentlewomen wore feathers
in their hats. It was answered, because they were
light-headed.
220.
Two (conspired together) whereof one was a
56 Conceits, Clinches,
Goldsmith, to steale a silver bole, intending to
share the businesse betwixt them, which when they
had stolen, he that was the goldsmith, because it
should not be known, did gild it over. It was
sentenced, when the matter came to scanning,
though the other stole it, yet the gilt of the fact
lay upon the gold-smith.
221.
One comming by a Sexton (who was making a
grave for one Button which was a great tal fellow),
asked him for whom that extraordinary long grave
was. He answered, he had made many longer then
that, and said it was but a button hole in respect of
some graves that he had made.
222.
One said a barber was an active man, for, if he
did once take out his combe, he would box a man
about the eares, and the man scarce feele it.
223.
One said a cooke of all men had the worst
digestion, for, as soone as he had eaten his meat,
he would be sure to spit his meat up againe.
224.
A great tall fellow, whose name was Way, lay
Flashes and Whimzies. 57
along the street drunke. One went over him, and
being asked why he did so, he answered he did
but goe along the high-way.
225.
A Gentleman (that was us'd to send his letters
by a footpost that was an old flegmatick rotten
fellow) complained that he suffred much prejudice
because his letters came too late to his friends
hands; another standing by told him it was his
owne fault, because he did send them by a rotten
post.
226.
One whose name was You married a woman
whose name was You also ; he for this cause was,
and ever will be, cal'd Master W.
227.
One who had been somewhat bitter to his wife
complayned to his neighbour (who was a northern
man borne, and spake accordingly), telling him that
she was such a peevish woman that he could not
endure to live with her : who advised him not to be
so harsh to her, but to goe to her and so-lace her,
and then she would be more kind to him.
58 Conceits, Clinches,
228.
One was saying he wondred why the people in
^Ethiopia did not write straight along as we northern
people ; one answered, they writ under the line, and
that was the reason of it.
229.
A Dyer, who was an idle drunken fellow, was
complayning to a Scholler that he had very ill
fortune in his businesse, and that commonly those
things that he undertook to dye were spoiled. The
Scholler told him that the only way to have this
amended was to reform himselfe, for he that lived
ill could never dye well.
230.
One, whose name was Church, was telling some
of his neighbors that his wife was with child, and
that he never in his life saw any woman so big
before : besides, [he] told them that he feared she
would <dye on child-bed. Whereupon one of them
comforted him, saying that there was no cause to
feare her death, and for her bignesse that was no
wonder, in regard she had a church in her belly.
231.
A certaine man was mightily affected with a
Flashes and Whimsies. 59
woman whose name was Wall, which did use
painting very much : his friends did diswade him
from comming neere her, telling him they did
wonder he was so besotted to set his affections
upon a painted wall.
232.
One (whose husbands name was Beane) being
delivered of two children at a burden, told the
midwife she had been so troubled with wind all
the time she was with child that she wondred at it.
The midwife said it was no marvaile, in regard her
belly so long had been full of beanes.
233-
One, .whose name was Mild, being in a tavern
tooke out a new coyn'd six pence, who, observing
the company to take notice of the brightnesse of
the peece, told them it was a mild sixpence.
234-
One asked what the reason was that some women
were so light heel'd now adayes. It was answered,
because they did wear corke-heel'd shooes.
235-
One, having a play book called the Wits 1 which
(i) The Wits, a Comedy, by Sir William Davenant, 1636, 4.
60 Conceits, Clinches,
he much valued, by chance lost it : but while he
was chafing and swearing about the losse of his
book, in comes one of his friends, who asking the
cause of his distemper, it was answered that he had
lost his wits.
236.
One stood to prove that a brewers horse was a
tapster, because he did draw beere ; another an
swered him it could not be, because, though a
brewers horse (if he were overladen) would froth,
yet he could not nicke. 1
237-
One, reading of a Curranto, said he wondred that
men did so affect to lye in paper and yet without
sheets.
238.
One asked what herbe that was that cured all
diseases. It was answered, Time.
239-
One, being about to write the superscription of a
letter to his mistres, asked a Scholler what termes
(i) A nicke is the raised bottom of a beer-pot or beer-can. The de
ception practised on the consumer by the height of the nick led to the use
of the verb to nick in the sense of to cheat.
Flashes and Whimsies. 61
were best to give her; who told him the Venus
lasse of his affections was a good word. He, mis
taking, writ to the Venice glasse of his affections,
which was a truer title then he was aware of.
240.
An Upholster was chiding his Apprentice, be
cause he was not nimble enough at his worke, and
had not his nailes and hammar in readines, when
he should use them, telling him that, when he was
an Apprentice, he was taught to have his nailes at
his fingers ends.
241.
One, whose name was Rapier, being a man of
a grave calling, yet using to weare a white suite,
was chid for not getting a black scabbard to his
rapier.
242.
One asked what that yong man deserved, that
did love alwayes to be in a playhouse. It was
answered, a box.
243-
One being at a friends house in the night was
perswaded to stay all night, but denied, saying he
62 Conceits, Clinches,
would be gone, because it was moone light. His
friend told him he thought he had not been so
lunatique as to love to walke in the moone light.
244.
One wondred, why there was so many picke-
pockets about the streets notwithstanding a watch
was at every corner. It was answered, that was all
one, for a pickpocket would as gladly meet with a
watch as any thing else.
245-
Certaine Gossips being a discoursing of the Com
pany their husbands kept: troth, sayes one, my
husband is no sooner out of doores but he has as
many about him, as there is to see the great beast
with two paire of horns.
246.
A Company of Country fellows disputing of
learning, and what a crooked, hard, and intricat
thing it was to be a good Scholler : truly, sayes
one, and so it is : for I have heard your best
laten is in crooked lane.
247.
One questioned which were the greatest wonders
Flashes and Whimzies. 63
in the world. 'Twas answered, womens and Lawyers
tongues, for that they did alwayes lye, yet never ley
still.
248.
One demanded what creature was most like an
Asse. He was answered, a Puritane, in that they
had the longest eares.
249.
A Coblers wife speaking of the place she liv'd
in, before she was married, her prentise mumbling
said there was none but wh**** and Bauds lived
there. What's that you say, Sirrah? quoth she.
Marry, I say there are honester women then your
selfe liv'd there.
250.
On a puritan.
Who is'tj d'you thinke, this earth doth here inclose f
I know not; why, 'tis a disputing nose.
251.
A young lascivious Gallant, wanting money, could
not with his credit sell any thing : yet, his Father
being but lately dead, at length was checkt by some
of his friends for his loose and extravagant life, and
64 Conceits, Clinches,
withall told that he had base and beastly Associats,
that did draw him to ill houses. He, taking this
opportunity, answered : truly, friends, your coun-
sell is very good, I will presently go sell my coach
and horses.
252.
On a OTofcto.
If any aske why this same stone was made,
(Know) for a Cobler, newly underlay d
Here for his overboasting ; pray condole
Him, that translated many a weary sole.
253-
A Steward being set on by a Theefe, who com
manded him to deliver, he being a Receiver, the
Steward replyed : I hope you will spare me, I being
a Receiver also. You shall be, said the Theefe, if
you deliver not the sooner.
254-
One sitting at dinner, where great store of rude
mirth was discoursed and laught at, a prattling
youth clapt him on the shoulder, and asked him if
he was making verse he was so mute. Who replyed
he was. Speake them, quoth he. No, replyed
FlasJies and Whimztes. 65
the other. Why you cannot speak them in better
company. I suppose so, quoth the modest man,
but two fooles at once will be too troublesome.
255-
A Scholler cal'd a tayler base fellow in a taverne,
who swore he would have him to the court of
Honour. If you doe, replyed the Scholler, looke
you make your words good, for I would not will
ingly be the cause of putting it upon record.
256.
A Gentleman going along the street was entreated
by a poore criple that had wooden legges to bestow
his charity : to whom the Gentleman answered, if he
would make a hansom legge,he should have a couple
of farthings.
257-
A company of Gentlemen, comming into a
Tavern, whose signe was the Moone, called for a
quart of sacke ; the drawer told them they had
none : whereat the gentlemen wondring, were told
by the drawer, that the man in the Moone always
drunke Claret.
66 Conceits, Clinches,
258.
One, that was skil'd in writing short hand, pro
mised a Lawier's Clarke to teach him his skill, who
thanked him for his paines, but told him they could
not live by making short hand of any thing.
259-
One said a civit cat was a dainty thing to keepe
in a house, because her dung was sweet ; another
said it was true, but yet it was more profitable to
keepe a cooke, especially in a deare yeer, because
he spitted rost.
260.
One asked, why hard wax was so much in request
now adayes. It was answered, because the world
did wax so hard.
261.
A woman, having married an old man whose
name was Edward (whom she thought had been
very rich, but not worth a penny), being asked
what she had by her marriage, answered, an old
Edward.
262.
A Gentleman, comming in the night to visit an
Flashes and Whimzies. 67
old man who had a hansom wench to his wife,
and suspected to be a little too light, was entreated
by the old man to walke into a roome. His wife
having a candle in her hand, entreated the gentle
man to follow her, who told her he would have her
husband (because he was an old man) to follow the
light.
263.
Two Gentlemen were in a deep dispute, whether
the man in the Moone were a gentleman or a
cittizen ; it was determined by a Scholler that, when
she was at full there was a gentleman in her, but
when she appeared like a home, there was a cittizen
in her.
264.
A justice of peace sending a Cheat to deserved
punishment, the Cheater, bewailing his hard for
tune, wished he could as easily learn to commit
as the Justice could discover knavery. Why, that
you may, said the Justice. Never, reply'd the
Knave, without I be put in authority.
A Gentleman in wants was advised by his friend
to serve a noble man that so he might raise his
68 Conceits, Clinches,
fortune. That was, said he, to refuse a lesser
poverty for a greater; for although I am poore,
yet I have my selfe ; there I shall not.
266.
A french-man, scoffing at the fancies of the
English, in admiring their Nation and neglecting
their owne, was thus answered : we in England
esteemed you, as you in France do our hownds,
for pleasure.
267.
One scoffingly demanded of a Drawer with a
great Crimson face full of high rubyes, when he
was at the Barbers. The drawer answered, troth,
Sir, I cannot tell well, but to my best remem
brance 'twas much about the time your face was
brased.
268.
A booke-binder disappointing a Scholler of his
Books which he had to bind for him, the Scholler,
being angry, cal'd him idle Knave ; the Binder not
long after brought home his books, and having
received his mony for them, desired to know of
the Scholler, why he cal'd him Knave the other
day. To deal plainly with thee, said the Scholler
Flashes and Whimzies. 69
because I would not flatter thee. Why, sir, doe
you think so, said the Binder 1 Yes, faith, replyed
the Scholler. Then I waigh not your words much,
quoth the Binder, since children and fooles speake
what they thinke. I, but they are Knaves (said the
Scholler), that speake against knowledge. Indeed
Sir, I tooke you for one of them ; and so went his
way.
269.
A foolish mellancholly Gentleman, riding with his
man on the high way, suddenly cryed out, his foot,
his foot ! His man started, and desired him to light,
that he might see what 'twas that hurt him. Then
pluck off this boot, said he, which being done the
man told him, sir, here is nothing. Then, prethee,
sayes the gentleman, pluck off the other, for sure
one of them pained me.
270.
A pretty wench but lately come out of the Country,
in her pouledavis and linsi-woolsy petticoats, living
in the strand, was scene not long after in her silkes
and sattins, and being by one of her country-women
demanded how such might be purchased : faith,
answer 5 d she, only for the taking up.
271.
A Citizen going out of towne with some of his
3- Q
7O Conceits, Clinches,
neighbors to hunt : pree-thee, sweetheart (sayes he
to his wife), pray that I meet not a Diana, and so
come home like to Actaeon horn'd, or be torne to
peeces with the dogs. His wife, thinking he had
closely jeerM her, and thinking to be revenged,
said : truly, husband, whether you meet Diana or
no, Tie take order you shall not want.
272.
Certaine Gallants being at a taverne, where they
spar'd no liquor, insomuch that all were well entred ;
but one whose head was somewhat weaker, and
therefore lighter, did nothing but spew, and calling
for a rekoning, why, says one of his friends, cannot
you tell, that have so often cast up, what you have
drunke ?
273.
A Gentleman, meeting of a married Souldier
newly come from the wars, demanded what charge
he underwent. The Souldier replyed, a Captaines.
Truly, answered the Gentleman, then you may help
your wife to an Ancients place, for she can beare
stoutly.
274.
A fellow going down Ludgate-Hill, his heeles
by chance slipping from him, fell upon his breech.
Flashes and Whimzies. 71
One standing by told him that London-stones were
stout and scornfull. It may be so, quoth he, yet
I made them to kisse my breech, as stout as they
were.
275-
A coward told his friend that one gave him a box
on the eare, and he did not strike him again, but
turn'd the other also to him ; to which his friend
answered : sure there was a great fight betwixt you,
when blowes were given on both sides.
276.
One asked, why Prentices were so briefe with
their clubs, when Gentlemen were falling out or
quareling in the streets. One replyed it was their
opportunity to be revenged on them for medling
with their mistresses.
277.
A Country farmer, having a pound neere his
house, whereat was a Dunghill, which at its full
maturity he sold, on the next market-day, amongst
other discourse, told his neighbors that he had made
as good a market as ever he did in his life, for he
had sold all his dunghill by the pound. One
replyed : troth, neighbor, you cannot chuse but be
Q*
72 Conceits, Clinches,
rich ; I have one to sell ; pray, neighbor, tell me
how you sold a pound, and how many hundred
weight there was in it.
278.
One asked a Gentlewoman in which part of the
house she did use to lye. It was answer'd, that she
lay backwards, and did let out her fore-roomes.
279.
A company of Gentlemen [were] in a tavern,
amongst the rest one whose name was Bramble ; who
being very quarelsome, ere they parted, fell to words
and so to blowes, and had beaten and scratch't one
of the Gentlemen in the face that he bled ; who going
home, one of his friends meeting him by the way
asked the cause, how he came to bleed so. No
great harme, replyed he, onely a Bramble by chance
scratch't me.
280.
One told his friend, if he would be pleased to go
with him he would bring him to a place, where they
should have wenches and lobsters by the belly.
281.
A shoe-maker sent his man unto a Gentleman,
who had ought him money a long-time for bootes
Flashes and Whimzies. 73
and shoes that had formerly been made for him.
The servant, comming to the Gentleman, told him his
Master would intreate him to send that little money
which was due to him as aforesaid, whereat the
Gentleman (rather willing to cavell then pay) in a
great rage answered : thou rogue ! what, doth thy
Master thinke I am running away, that he sends
after me for such a trifle as this is 1 No, Sir, replyed
the servant, my master doth not thinke you are
about to runne away; but he is, and that makes
him so earnest with you and others, that he- might
take his money along with him.
282.
A Gentleman invited to his table many guests,
and provided for them divers dishes of meate ;
amongst the rest, there being a legge of Mutton,
one in the company took it, and fell so homely to
worke with it, that he pared off all the flesh, and
laying it in scraps in the dish, called to a servant
to break the bone for him ; which one perceiving,
that sat next the gentleman that invited them,
jogged him, and shewed him how uncivilly the
party had behaved himselfe ; whereupon the Gentle
man, a little mov'd, yet unwilling to be too playne,.
began a tale to the whole table thus : I was, quoth:
he, not long since with a friend of mine that much
74 Conceits, Clinches,
delighted in hunting, and after our sport comming
home he would needs see his dogges fed, before he
would eate anything himselfe, which I labored to
diswade him from, in regard he was in a very faire
new white Satten sute, which might amongst the
dogs receive some hurt, but rather willed him for
that time to suffer some of his servants to do it ;
all would not prevail, but into the yard, where the
dogs were kept, he went, whither he was no sooner
come, but one of the dogs, that was all mire and
dirt, fell to ramping on him, and albeit the dogge
spoyled his faire suite, yet he rebuked not the
dogge, but on the contrary cherished him, which
I, perceiving, said to my friend : Sir, what, doe you
mean to suffer a scurvy dog to spoyle such a suite
as that is 1 Alas, replied my friend, what would
you have me doe to him ? you see, as wel as I, . he
is but a puppy. Which was no sooner spoken, but
by all the table applied to him, that had so spoyled
the mutton.
283.
One asked whence the word Interpreter was
derived. It was answered quasi Inter-prater, for
one that prated betwixt two that spake severall
languages.
Flashes and Whimsies. 75
284.
One asked why Chambermaids were more troubled
with the greene-sicknesse then other women. It was
answered, because they used to lye at their Masters
beds-feet.
285.
One asked what beast in the world might be said
to have the best understanding. It was answered, a
Cuckold.
286.
A maid told her Mistresse she must entreat her
to keepe more maids, because she was much over
laid.
287.
Printers (saies one) are the most lawlesse men in
a Kingdome, for they commit faults cum privilegio.
ADDITIONAL NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
MERY TALES OF THE MAD MEN OF GOTHAM.
Introduction. In a note to the Merie Tales of Skelton (ii. 7), I
incidentally shewed, that in a " Comedie called a Knacke To Knowe a
Knave," 1594, 4. the anonymous author has introduced " [Kempe's]
Applauded merriments of the Wise Men of Goteham." These particular
merriments, however, appear to have been the invention of the writer,
or to have been taken from an earlier and fuller impression of the Tales
than any at present known to survive. There is no trace of them in the
edition of 1630. Doubtless, many stories were circulated touching this
place and its inhabitants, besides those which were admitted into print.
The celebrity of the Gothamite Tales suggested the selection of the
name as a passport to mere political squibs and party-pamphlets. Such
were "The Fooles Complaint to Gotham College, and Resolution taken
up by Free Subjects in and about London and Westminster," 1643, 4 ;
and "The Epistle from the Bottle-Conjurers unto the Gothamites."
n. d. 8vo. In Punch for Sept. isth, 1856, was printed a copy of satirical
verses on the Reformatory Union, under the title of "The River of
Gotham."
In 1701, appeared a folio broadside with the following title: "Advice
to the Kentish long-tails by the wise men of Gotham, in answer to their
late sawcy petition to the Parliament."
I have been favoured by my friend George Waring, Esq. of Oxford,
with the subjoined fac-simile of the title-page of ed. 1630 of the Tales of
the Men of Gotham.
THE
MERRY TALES
OF THE MAD-MEN
OF GOTTAM.
Gathered together by A. B. of Phyficke Doftor.
Printed at London by B.A. and T.F. for Micha\l\
Sparkc, dwelling in Greene Arbor at the figne of
the Blue-Bible, 1630.
Notes. 3
Ray, in his Proverbs, 1670, says, speaking of these Gothamite
legends :
" Here two things may be observed
" i. Men in all ages have made themselves merry with singling out some
place, and fixing the staple of stupidity and stolidity therein. So the
Phrygians in Asia, the Abderitse in Thrace, and Boeotians in Greece, were
notorious for dull men and blockheads.
"2. These places, thus slighted and scoffed at, afforded some as witty
and wise persons as the world produced. So Democritus was an Abderite,
Plutarch a Boeotian, &c. ... As for Gotham, it doth breed as wise
people as any which causelessly laugh at their simplicity. Sure I am,
Mr. William de Gotham, fifth master of Michael House, in Cambridge,
1336, and twice Chancellor of the University, was as grave a governor as
that age did afford "
Everybody is probably familiar with the old nursery tale :
" Three wise men of Gotham
Went to sea in a bowl :
And if the bowl had been stronger,
My song would have been longer."
There cannot be the slightest doubt that the tradition, on which these
stories of the men of Gotham were founded in the i6th century, is of
great antiquity. In the Townley Mysteries, edited for the Surtees
Society, 1836, p. 88, the men of Gotham have received their share of
notice. Vide infr&.
In the 6th volume of the Sussex Archaeological Collections, Mr. M. A.
Lower furnishes, as I have already mentioned, an account of Andrew
Borde, and contends that not Gotham, in Lincolnshire, but Gotham, in
Sussex, is entitled to the honour of having given parentage to these Tales.
An anecdote, which Mr. Halliwell gives in his Popular Rhymes and
Nursery Tales, p. 195, of the Mayor of Pevensey, near Gotham, might
strengthen the hypothesis of Mr. Lower, if equally silly stories had not
been told of the mayors of all the towns in the kingdom.
P. 4. The First Tale.
This story is quoted in the Townley Mysteries, ed. 1836, p. 88.
" Tercius Pastor. But syr, ye ar bare of wysdom to knawe.
Take hede how I fare, and lere at my lawe ;
Ye nede not to care if ye folow my sawe,
Hold ye my mare, this sek there throwe
on my bak ;
4 Notes.
Whylst I, with my hand,
Lawse the sek band,
Com nar and by stand
Both Gyg and Jak ;
Is not alle shakyn owte and no meylle is therin ?
Primw Pastor, Yey, that is no dowte.
Tercius Pastor. So is youre wyttes thyn
And ye look wille aboute, mor nor myn,
So gase your wyttes owte euyr as com in ;
Geder up
And seke it agane.
Secundus Pastor. May we not be fane ?
He has told us fulle plane
Wysdom to sup.
Jak Garcia. Now God gyf you ease, folys all sam ;
Saghe I never none so fare but thtfoles of Gotham."
P. 6. The Second Tale.
Un autre Paisan, apres avoir Iabour6 jusqu'4 midi, se mit avec sa
charrue sur un cine, pour ne pas fatiguer ses boeufs a la tromer.
S'appercevant que 1'animal succomboit sous le poids, il descend, met
sa charrue sur la tete, and remonte en disant a son ane : Tu marcheras
bien a present, ce n'est pas toi qui porte la charrue, c'est moi. La
distraction est certainement une absence d'esprit, un difaut, une impoli-
tesse dont tout homme qui veut etre sociable doit se corriger soigneuse-
ment. Poggiana, ed. 1720, ii. p. 237.
P. 9. There dwelt a Smith at Gotham.
It may be just worth while to notice that, among the proverbial ex
pressions current in Nottinghamshire, there is the following :
" The little smith of Nottingham,
Who doth the work that no man can."
Whether this gifted individual had any connexion with the Smith de
scribed here, it is hard to say.
P. 14. The Twelfth Tale. "There was a man of Gotham."
An adventure of a somewhat similar character forms the leading
feature in Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles, No. 38 (ed. Wright, i. 238).
Compare the Second Novel of the 3rd day of the Decameron and the
8th Novel of the 7th day. The present story bears a close resemblance
to the latter, which, it may be mentioned, is imitated in the Cobler of
Canterburie, first printed in 1590. It is, in that collection, called "The
Notes. 5
Old Wiues Tale." It is not at all unlikely that the author of the
Gothamite Tales was under obligations to Boccaccio, from whom Borde,
their putative writer, has borrowed his " Mery Jest of the Mylner of
Abyngton," printed by Wynkyn de Worde, and again by Richard Jones,
and to be included in a contemplated work by the present Editor on the
Early Popular Poetry of England.
TWELVE MERY JESTS OF THE WIDOW EDYTH.
Preface. John Hankyn.
Ames, in his Typographical Antiquities, and after him Herbert and
Dibdin, suppose that this person was identical with John Hawkyns who,
in 1530, printed (with Pynson's types) Palsgrave's L' ' Esclaircissement de
la Langue Franqoise.
P. 36. The Erie of Wyltshyre.
Henry Stafford, Earl of Wiltshire, K.G. created Earl in 1509; died
issueless in 1523. In 1511, he took part in the Jousts appointed to
celebrate the birth of the Prince of Wales, only child of Henry VIII.
by Catharine of Aragon (see Ellis' Original Letters, Second Series, i.
183). This nobleman was a cousin of Edward Stafford, Duke of
Buckingham, Lord High Constable of England, who was attainted and
beheaded in 1521.
Gup, queane, gup !
Gup is explained by Halliwell (Arch. Diet, in voce) to be a contraction
of go up. In the present passage, it would almost seem to be equivalent
in meaning to gip or gep, which is used by some of our early writers in
the sense offye / or, get along ! In a note to the History of Tom Thumb,
1630, in a forthcoming collection of Early Popular Poetry, I have
brought together what I could find in illustration of this phrase.
P. 37. Wainsworth.
Wandsworth, in Surrey, is here intended.
P. 38. The Lord Chamberlayn.
Probably, John de Vere, i4th Earl of Oxford, hereditary Grand
Chamberlain of England, succeeded his uncle, John de Vere, i3th Earl,
4 Hen. VIII. and died 18 Hen. VIII. From his diminutive stature, he
was known as "Little John of Campes."
6 Notes.
P. 43. Brandonfery. v
Brandon, near Thetford, Suffolk, is the place meant There is, or
was, a ferry there over the Ouse to the Isle of Ely.
P. 44. Bradefolde.
Perhaps Bradfield, Magna or Parva, in Sussex, may be the true
reading.
heyt, w****, heyt.
See a note to Peele's Jests, vol. ii. p. 364, in explanation of the term.
Brock Heyt, in the present passage, and hayt, used by Chaucer in the
Freres Tale, appear to be synonymous. The passage in Chaucer is as
follows:
"Thay seigh a cart, that chargid was with hay,
Which that a carter drof forth in his way.
Deep was the way, for which the carte stood,
This carter smoot, and cryde as he wer wood,
' Hayt, brok ; hayt, scot ; what, spare ye for the stoones ? '
The fend,' quod he, 'yow fech body and bones.'"
Coulme. Colne-Earls, between Halsted and Colchester, is the
place which the writer intended. It formerly belonged to the Veres,
Earls of Oxford, and being the most considerable of the four places of
the same name in the neighbourhood, was sometimes distinguished as
Great Colne. Here was founded by the Veres a Priory.
In an house of my Lord of Oxenforde.
John de Vere, ^th Earl of Oxford, ob. 18 Hen. VIII.
P. 56. In all the town she was not worth a q.
A Q is here used, doubtless, in the sense of a half -farthing, for which
it stands equivalent in the old college accounts at Oxford. See Nares'
Glossary, ed. 1859, art. Q.
P. 64. Towton.
I am not aware of any such place in Sussex ; but Tooting, in Surrey,
was formerly known as Towting or Towton, and was celebrated for
many fine seats of noblemen and gentlemen. The truth is, doubtless,
that the widow travelled from Southwark to Tooting in the carrier's cart.
P. 94. And kissed her twice, and chirked like a Sparow.
Chaucer has introduced a passage into the Sompnoiires Tale (Works,
Notes. 7
by Bell, li. 107) which the writer of the present tract might be supposed,
from the singular resemblance, to have seen :
"The frere ariseth up ful curteysly,
And her embracith in his armes narwe,
And kist hir swete, and chirkith as a sparwe
With his lippes "
PASQUIL'S JESTS.
P. 27. How madde Coomes, when his wife was drowned, &"c*
No. 55 of Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres has been laid under con
tribution here ; but the latter is merely copied from the fabliau of " Le
Vilain et sa Femme," printed in the third volume of Le Grand, ed. 1829,
p. 181.
P. 36. Of one that lost his purse.
This is an imitation of No. 15 of Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres,
and at p. 17 we have a story, which is borrowed from No. 16 of the same
work. See also the Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson, 1607, p. 35 of
present ed. The original of all these anecdotes is, probably, the fabliau
of " Le Marchand qui perdit sa Bourse" (Le Grand, ed. 1829, iii. p. 66).
P. 45. The subtilty of a Lawyer repayd, &c.
This is taken from Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres, No. 45. The
editor of the Family Jo Miller, 1848, i2 mo , p. 139. has the following
remark on the story, which is extracted from the Mery Tales, &c. in
that work. "This 'Merrie tale' is the longest lived in our collection.
It had been dramatized, and appeared in print as early as 1474, when it
is spoken of as an old piece, entitled, Maitre Pierre Patelin, Brueys
modernized it in 1706, changing the title to L' Avocat Patelin, from which
is taken our well-known farce of the ' Village Lawyer. ' "
P. 47. Cuckoo time. i. e. May, when the Cuckoo is supposed to sing
throughout the day ; but he makes his first appearance in April. This
bird is scarcely surpassed in celebrity by any of the feathered creation,
if we may judge from the frequency with which he is mentioned by our
writers, and the prominent position accorded to him in rural superstitions.
His very important and close connexion with connubial matters is well
known, and in the Schole house of Women, 1542, the writer, desirous of
expressing a state of perpetual cuckoldom, figures the cuckoo " singing
8 Notes.
all the year." See Remains of the Early Popular Poetry of England,
vol. iii. An account of this subject may be read in the last ed. of Brand's
Popular Antiquities, ii. 196, etseqq. In Polimanteia, 1595, 4* sign K 4,
verso, the Author mentions a supposition on the part of some persons
" that the Nightingall and the Cuckow both grow hoarse at the rising of
(Syrius] the Dogge-starre." In the Mery Tales of the Mad Men of
Gotham, first printed, perhaps, as early as 1540, the third Tale relates
how "on a tyme, the men of Gottam would haue pinned in the Cuckoo,
whereby shee should sing all the yeere."
The following lines, extracted from Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and
Nursery Tales, 1849, p. 160, embody the ideas of our ancestors respecting
the habits of this bird :
" In April,
The Cuckoo shows his bill ;
In May,
He sings all day ;
In June,
He alters his tune :
In July,
Away he'll fly ;
Come August,
Away he must ! "
PLEASANT CONCEITS OF OLD HOBSON.
Introduction. Flourdew, the husband of one of the characters in the
Mtises Looking Glass, by T. Randolph, 1638, was a haberdasher of small
wares.
P. 15. Lanthorne and Candle light.
See a woodcut at p. 76 of Mr. Collier's Bridgewater Catalogue,
1837, 4-
P. 20. How Maister Hobson proved himself a Poet.
See vol. ii. 215 and 363. In Notes and Queries, 2 S. vii. 147, and
3 S. v. 215, may be read some communications on this subject. In
Camden's Remaines of a Greater Work, first printed in 1605, 4, the
epitaph is given with variations as that of " Sir John Calf, Lord Mayor
of London." No person of that unpropitious name is known to have
Notes. 9
filled the chief magistracy, and it seems probable that a sneer was in
tended by this facetious composition on some civic dignitary, whose real
name has not come down.
P. 23. Matches.
In a note to the Merie Tales of Skelton (ii. 7), I have inadvertently
mis-stated that it was for lucifer-matches that Hobson sought a patent.
The error, however, almost corrects itself ; but I did not detect it, till
the volume was worked off.
P. 27. To whom Maister Hobson reply ed againe : we may better, &>c.
" When there was a feare of Invasion, some schollers in Cambridge
were talking merrily how they would shift, and where they would hide
themselves. ' Well,' sayes one (that was Bachelor of Divinitie, but never
appeared in St. Marie's), ' you have provided for yourselves, but nobody
takes care of me.' ' Yes, faith,' sayes another, ' lie hide thee where
I'le warrant thou shall nere be found.' 'Where's that?' sayes he.
' Why in St. Marie's pulpitt,' sayes the other ; ' The safest place for
thee in the world, for [if] ever any man lookes for thee there, I'll be
hanged.'" Merry Passages and Jests, collected by Sir N. L'Estrange
[Thorns' Anecdotes and Traditions, p. 36].
P. 31. How one of Maister Hobson' s men gutted him, &>c.
It has been already pointed out that this tale is in Mery Tales and
Quicke Answeres, No. 54. But it is also in Poggiana :
" Un pauvre Batelier qui n'avoit rien gagne de tout le jour s'en re-
tournoit tout triste chez lui, lorsque quelqu'un 1'appella pour le passer
dans sa barque. Le trajet se fit gayement. Mais le Batelier ayant
demande son payement, le passager protesta qu'il n'avoit pas un sol sur
lui, mais qu'il lui donneroit un conseil qui lui vaudroit de 1'argent. Bon !
dit le Batelier, mafemme et mes enfans ne vivent pas de conseil. N'en
pouvant tirer d'autre raison, il demanda enfin quel etoit done ce conseil ?
Oest, dit-il, de ne jamais passer personne sans vous faire payer par
avance. POGGIANA, ed. 1720, ii. p. 210.
P. 33- Of Maister Hobson riding to Sturbrige Faire.
This is one of the Facetice of Poggius :
" Antonio Lusco dont on parloit lout a 1'heure etoit un homme a bons
contes. II dit un jour qu' etant alle a Sienne avec un Venitien fort
simple, peu accoutume a monter & cheval, ils coucherent dans une
auberge, oft il y avoit quantite de Cavaliers. Quand il fallut partir,
chacun prend son cheval, sans que le bon Venitien branlat de sa place.
Antoine lui ayant demande a quoi il s'amusoit, pendant que tous les
io Notes.
autres etoient d6ja cheval, ' Je suis,' dit-il, 'pret partir, mais comme
je ne saurois reconnoitre mon cheval entre tant d'autres, j'attensque tout
le monde soit parti, parce que celui qui restera, sera le mien.'" Poggiana,
ed. 1720, ii. p. 197.
P. 36. How Master Hobson was a judge betwixt two women.
This brings to mind a good story related by Roger North in his " Life
of Lord Keeper Guilford," ed. 1826:
" Mr. Serjeant Maynard had a mind to punish a man who had voted
against his interest in a borough in the West, and brought an action
against him for scandalous words, spoke at a time when a member, to
serve in the House of Commons for that borough, was to be chosen.
And, after his great skill, he first laid his action in the county of Mid
dlesex : and that was by virtue of his privilege, which supposes a Serjeant
is attendant on the Court of Common Pleas, and not to be drawn from
the county where the court sat. And then, in the next place, he charged
the words in Latin, that, if he proved the effect, it would be sufficient ;
whereas, being in English, they must prove the very words to a tittle ;
and those were a long story that used to be told of Mr. Noy, and all the
cock lawyers of the West. And this was tried before his lordship [Chief
Justice North] at the nisi prius for the Common Pleas for Middlesex.
The witness, telling the story, as he swore the defendant told it, said that
a client came to the Serjeant, and gave him a basket of pippins, and every
pippin had a piece of gold in it. "Those were golden pippins," quoth
the judge. The Serjeant began to puff, not bearing the jest : so the
witness went on, " And then," said he, " the other side came and gave
him a roasting pig (as it is called in the West) and in the belly of that
there were fifty broad pieces." "That's good sauce to a pig," quoth the
judge again. This put the Serjeant out of all patience ; and speaking to
those about him, " This," said he, " is on purpose to make me ridiculous."
This story being sworn, the judge directed the jury to find for the
Serjeant ; but in the court, the judgement was arrested, because the
words were but a land story, and went, as mere merriment, over ale,
without intent to slander."
P. 38. Of Maister Hobson: 's rewarding a poet for a bookes dedication.
Scot, in his Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584, ed. 1651, p. 263, relates,
the original of this story, taking it, doubtless, from Mery Tales and
Quicke Answeres, No. 23.
P. 40. How Maister Hobson gavs one of his servants the half of a
blind man's benefit.
This tale, in various forms, is found in many collections. It occurs in
Notes. 1 1
the English Gesta Romanorum, ed. Madden, p. 468, where, however,
the consequences do not fall quite so severely on the victims, twelve
stripes being divided between three instead of sixty between two.
P. 44. How Maister Hobson answered &>c.
Poggius, in his Facettce, gives an anecdote of a Milanese living about
his own time, who, having heard somebody speak of the death of the
Paladin Orlando, ran to his wife and communicated the intelligence
as a piece of the latest news.
CERTAYNE CONCEITS AND JEASTS.
P. 3. A certaine fool came unto King Phillip, &*c.
" One begg'd of Queene Elizabeth, and pretended kindred and alliance,
but there was no such relation. ' Friend,' says she, ' grant it be so, do'st
thinke I am bound to keepe all my kindred ? Why, that's the way to
make me a beggar.'" Merry Passages and Jests, collected by Sir N.
L'Estrange [Thorns' Anecdotes and Traditions, p. 16.]
P. 9. One buying a horse, &*c.
In Marlowe's Faustus (Works, by Dyce, ii. 63-4-5), the conjuror
plays a trick on a horse-courser by selling him an animal which he
enjoins him by no means to lead into water ; but the fellow tries the
experiment by riding his acquisition into a pond, and the horse is imme
diately transformed into a truss of hay.
TAYLOR'S WIT AND MIRTH.
Introduction. Many of the articles in Taylor's Wit and Mirth were
appropriated, of course without acknowledgment, by the editor of the
Tales and Jests of Mr. Hugh Peters, 1660, 4. Such is the case with
Nos. 7, 30, 32, 35, 39, 40, 48, 55, 59, 62, and some others. The transfer
of this stolen property to his own pages did not cost the plagiarist much
trouble : for he has seldom done more than change the names ; and
Hugh Peters' [sixty] Jests are, in fact, merely a selection from Taylor's
book with certain alterations and a few additions for the nonce. In the
Diverting History of Tom of Chester, printed in the Palatine A ntho-
logy, 1850, 4, many of the articles appear to be borrowed from Taylor.
12 Notes.
P. 9. An old Painter, &>c.
Gray, in his Rlegy written in a Country Churchyard, alludes to the
" frail memorials [of the humble tenants of the graves, &c.] with uncouth
rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd : "
" Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse,
'The place of fame and elegy supply ;
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die."
This story appears in the following form in "The New & diverting
History of Tom of Chester, containing his witty pranks, jests, &c." (see
The Palatine Anthology, 1850, p. 119). "An old painter, at the repair
ing of a church in Chester, was writing sentences of Scripture upon
the walls. By chance Tom came into the church, and reading them,
perceived much of false English. Old man, said Tom, why don't you
write true English? Alas ! Sir, quoth he, they are poore simple people
in this parish, and they will not goe to the cost of it."
P. 10. Opposite.
This word is here used merely in the sense of a person facing you at
an eating-house table ; but it also occurs in some of the dramatists as an
equivalent for rival. Thus in A Cure for a Cuckold, Act III. sc. i,
Lessingham says :
"Yes, I have no opposite i' th' world but
Yourself: there, read the warrant for your death."
P. 12. Saying that her husband was in heauen, &C.
" Clown. Good madonna, why mourn' st thou?
Olivia. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
Oliv. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul
being in heaven." Twelfth Night, Act I. sc. 5.
Though my Daw doe not speake> yet I am in good hope that he
thinks the more.
" for in faith [said Martin] I shall neuer abide that Jacke, while I
Hue. Upon these words away went her husband, and though he said
little, he thought the more." Pleasant H istory of Thomas of Reading,
by T. Deloney, circa 1597, e( i- Thorns, p. 34.
P. 1 7. A souldier vpon his march, &*c.
The anecdote here told by Taylor reminds one of an entry made by
Evelyn in his Diary under date of the srd December, 1651, in which he
gives the following account of an accident which befell a friend :
Notes. 1 3
"Sir Lewis Dives dined with us, who, relating some of his adventures,
showed me divers pieces of broad gold which, being in his pocket in a
fight, preserved his life by receiving a musket-bullet on them, which
deadened its violence, so that it went no further, but made such a stroke
on the gold as fixed the impressions upon one another, battering and
bending several of them; the bullet itself was flatted, and retained on
it the colour of the gold. He assured us that of a hundred of them,
which it seems he then had in his pocket, not one escaped without
some blemish."
P. 26. A Nobleman of France, &*c-
A somewhat similar story is told in the Laird of Logan. It is as
follows: "As the Paisley steamer came alongside the quay at the city
of the Seestus, a denizen of St. Mirren's hailed one of the passengers :
'Jock, Jock 1 distu hear, man? is that you or your brither?'"
This jest is not unsimilar in its point to the nursery rhyme :
" Ho ! Master Teague, what is your story ?
I went to the wood, and killed a tory ;
I went to the wood, and killed another.
Was it the same, or was it his brother ? "
Halliwell's Nursery Rhymes of England, 6th Edit. p. 7.
P. 35. A man [was] riding through a village, &*.
A curious illustration of this jest occurs in a passage in A Cure for a
Cuckold, Act IV. sc. i :
" Compass. I don't think but that the cucking-stool is an enemy to a
number of brabbles that would else be determined by law.
" Pettifog. "Pis so indeed, Sir. My client that came in now sues his
neighbour for kicking his dog, and using the defamatory speeches come
out, cuckold's cur"
P. 38. Sixe gentlemen riding together, &*c.
" A Gentleman overtakes in the evening a plaine country fellow, and
ask't him how far it was to such a towne. ' Tenne miles, Sir,' sayes he.
' It is not possible,' sayes the gentleman. ' It is no lesse,' sayes the
fellow. ' I telle you it was never counted above five.' ' "Tis tenne
indeed, Sir,' sayes the fellow and thus they were arguing/w et con a
long time. At last sayes the countryman to him : ' I'le tell you what I'le
doe, Sir, because you seeme to be an honest gentleman, and your horse
is almost tyr'd, I will not stand with you, you shall have it for five ; but,
as I live, whosoever comes next shall ride tenne.' " Merry Passages and
Jests, collected by Sir Nicholas L' Estrange [Thorns' A necdotes and Tra
ditions, p. 32].
14 Notes.
Andrewes, in his Anecdotes, ed. 1790, p. 406, quotes a story from the
Thuana, which has the aspect of being an imitation of the one in Taylor.
It is related of an old judge, who had been told that the distance from
one place to another (in Gascony) was two leagues, and who, finding it a
very tiring journey, ordered it to be registered in the archives of the
province, that it was six leagues between the two points. See Constable's
Miscellany, vol. x. pp. 114-15.
P. 57. A Fellow hauing beene married, &"c.
The case of this " fellow" was not by any means so desperate as that
of the luckless husband, whose story is given in Les Cent Nouvelles
Nouvelles (ed. Wright), No. 29. "Veezcy," says the latter, addressing
his assembled friends, who have come to drink the health of the newly-
married couple, and who are at a loss to comprehend the man's desponding
looks, "pour un pouvre coup que j'ay accollee ma femme elle m'a fait
ung enfant. Or regardez, si a chacune foiz que je recommenceraj elle
en fait autant, de quoy je pourraj nourrir le mesuage?" "Comment!
ung enfant?" dirent ses compaignons. " Voire, vrayement ung enfant,
dit-il ; veezcy de quoy, regardez." Et lors se tourne vers son lit et leve
la couverture et leur monstre et la mere et 1' enfant. "Tenez," dit-il,
veezla la vache et le veau, sois-je pas bien party?" The fact was that
the lady had prudently laid, with the assistance of a third party, the
foundation of a family just three quarters of a year before her union with
the hero of this tale ; and the latter, to his astonishment and dismay, dis
covers that the desired pledge of affection is ready-made to his hand.
P. 62. A Clinch.
A similar witticism occurs in the Demaundes Joyous, printed by
Wynkyn de Worde in 1511, 4. :
''Demand. How many straws go to a goose's nest ?
A. None, for lack of feet."
P. 69. An Ideot that dwelt with a rich vnckle, &"c.
The following additional illustrations of this subject maybe offered :
"The Lord North begged old Bladwell for a foole (though he could
never prove him so), and having him in his custody as a lunatick, he
carried him to a gentleman's house one day that was a neighbour. The
Lord North and the gentleman retired a while to private discourse, and
left Bladwell in the dining-room, which was hung with a fair hanging.
Bladwell walked up and down, and viewing the imagery, spied a foole at
last in the hanging, and, without delay, draws his knife, flies at the foole,
cuts him clean out, and lays him on the floor. My Lord and the
gentleman coming in again, and finding the tapestrie thus defaced, he
Notes. 15
asks Bladwell what he meant by such a rude uncivil act : he answered :
' Sir, be content, I have rather done you a courtesy than a wrong, for if
ever my Lord North had seen the fool there, he would have begged him,
and so you might have lost your whole suit.' " Merry Passages and
Jests, collected by Sir N. L'Estrange [Thorns' Anecdotes and Traditions,
P- ?]
" A Knight held to be a very wise man in his life, left behind him a
sonne and heyre that was none of the best witted, to inherit his land :
who was beg'd for a foole, and summoned into the Court of Wards for
his answer. When question was made unto him what hee would say for
himself , why his landes should not be taken from him, hee said : ' It is
reported that my Father was a wise man, and begot a foole to inherit his
estate after his death : who can tell but that I, a foole, may beget a wise
man to inherit after me ?' His answer caried it, and he and his remaine
in possession of the same revenues unto this day." Pleasant Taunts,
Merry Tales, &*c. (circa 1620).
" There came vnto this Citty an Italian Earle, of the house of Anquilora,
called Emelio who, desiring to haue a Foole with him, promised a great
Almes vnto their house, if they would giue him a mad-man, who, hauing
lost his fury, might entertaine him with sport. Those of the Hospital
fayled not to promise him one, and withall to bring him to his lodging
some of their most peaceable mad-men." The Pilgrime of Casteele,
1621, p. 73.
R. Clay, Son, ^ Taylor, PiaUvn,
Uniformly and elegantly printed, in 3 vols. fcap. 8vo. half bound, uncut,
price -}s. 64. each vol.
THE SHAKESPEARE JEST-BOOKS ;
being reprints of the Early Jest-Books supposed to have been used
by Shakespeare.
Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by
W. CAREW HAZLITT.
Author of "The History of the Venetian Republic;" Editor of the
Poems of Constable, Lovelace, &c.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
A Hundred Mery Talys, from the only known copy.
Mery Tales & Quicke Answeres, from the rare editions of 1530 and 1567.
*** The originals of the above curious Jest-Books are so excessively
rare that the publishers consider they are rendering an acceptable service
to the literary world by reprinting a limited number of copies, with such
Notes and Elucidations as the obsolete allusions seemed to require. Of
the C. Mery Talys, which is the work alluded to by Beatrice in Much.
Ado About Nothing', only one copy is known ; and the Mery Tales and
Quicke Answeres is almost equally rare.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
Merie Tales of Skelton.
Jests of Scogin.
Sackfull of Newes.
Tarltpn's Jests.
Merrie Conceited Jests of George Peele.
Jacke of Dover.
" However ardent in his search, or prodigal of his money, the book-
collector would find it next to impossible to procure all the originals
assembled together in this and the companion volumes."
CONTENTS OF VOL. III.
Merie Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham.
Twelve Mery Jests of the Wydow Edyth.
Pasquils Jests, with Mother Bunches Merriments.
The Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson.
Certayne Conceyts and Jeasts.
Taylors Wit and Mirth.
Conceits, Clinches, Flashes and Whimzies.
Of the above Tracts in Vol. III. four have never previously been re
printed.
*** This carefully-edited series of Elizabethan Jest-Books is a valu
able contribution to our knowledge of the wit and humour of the time
when Shakespeare flourished, and as a curious example of the books
popular in the sixteenth century. To the English Philologist and Anti
quary they are likewise extremely interesting. They are very hand
somely printed and bound in the Roxburghe style, and are altogether
among the daintiest volumes of the modern press."
Published by WILLIS & SOTHERAN, 136, Strand.
PR Hazlitt, William Carew
2953 (ed.)
W5H3 Shakespeare jest-books
v.3
PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET
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