The Table. (2)

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William Carew Hazlitt
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Of hym that rode out of London, and had his seruaunt folowynge hym on foote. i. 15
Of hym that preached on saynte Christofers day. ii. 16
Of the frenche man that stroue with the Fanwaye for his armes. iii. ib.
Of the curate that sayde our lorde fedde fyue hundred persones. iiii. 17
Of hym that profered his doughter to one in maryage. v. 18
Of the men of the countrey, that came to London to bye a crucifixe of wodde. vi. ib.
Of hym that folowed his wyfe to buryeng. vii. 19
Of hym that felle in to the fyre. viii. ib.
Of hym that used to calle his seruaunte the kynge of fooles. ix. 20
Of the yonge woman, that sorowed so greatly the deathe of her husbande. x. 21
Of hym that kyssed the fayre mayde with the longe nose. xi. ib.
Of the uplandysshe mans answere concernyng the steple and pulpytte. xii. 23
Of the beggers aunswere to mayster Skelton the poete. xiii. ib.
Of the chaplen that sayde our ladye mattens lyenge in his bedde. xiiii. 24
Of hym that loste his purse in London. xv. 25
Of the marchaunt that loste his boudget betwene ware and London. xvi. 26
Of him that was called kockold. xvii. 27
Of the iolus man. xviii. 28
Of the fat woman that sat and solde frute. xix. ib.
Of a poller that begyled a preste. xx. 29
Of Papirius pretextatus. xxi. 31
Of the corrupte man of lawe. xxii. 33
Of kynge Lowes of Fraunce and the husbandman Conon. xxiii. 34
Of a picke thanke, that thought to begyle the same moste prudent kynge. xxiiii. 37
Of Thales the great astronomer, the whiche felle in to a ditche. xxv. 38
Of the astronomer that theues robbed. xxvi. 39
Of the plough man that wolde saye his paternoster with a stedfast mynde. xxvii. ib.
Of him that dreamed he founde golde. xxviii. 40
Of the crakynge yonge gentyll man that wolde ouerthrowe his enemys a myle of. xxix. 42
Of him that fell of a tre and brake a rybbe in his syde. xxx. 44
Of the fryer that brayed in his sermon. xxxi. 45
The oration of th ambassadour that was sent to Pope Urban. xxxii. 46
Of the ambassadour that was sent to the prince Agis. xxxiii. 47
The answere of Cleomenes to the Samiens ambassadour. xxxiiii. ib.
Of the wyse man Piso, and his seruant. xxxv. 48
Of the marchant that made a wager with his lorde. xxxvi. 49
yuell was lost and sought. cxxxiiii. 148
Of Tachas, kyng of Aegypt, and Agesilaus. cxxxv. 149
Of Corar the Rhetorician, and Tisias hys scoler. cxxxvi. 150
Of Augustus and Athenodorus the Phylosopher. cxxxvii. 151
Of the frenche kyng and the brome seller. cxxxviii. 152
An other tale of the same frenche kyng. cxxxix. 153
What an Italyan fryer dyd in his preaching. cxl. 155

TALES
AND
QUICKE ANSWERES.

Of hym that rode out of London and had his seruaunt folowynge on foote. i.

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

Of hym that preched on saynt Chrystophers day. ii.

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

Of the frenche man, that stroue with the Janway for his armes. iii.

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

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

Of the curate that sayde our Lorde fedde U. C. persons. iiii.

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

Of hym that profered his doughter in mariage. v.

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

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

Of them that came to London to bye a Crucifixe. vi.

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

Of hym that folowed his wyfe to buryenge. vii.

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

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

Of hym that felle into the fyre. viii.

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

Of him that vsed to cal his servant the kinge of foles. ix.

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

Of the yonge woman that sorowed so greatly her husbondes deth. x.

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

Of him that kissed the mayd with the longe nose. xi.

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

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

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

The Uplandisshe mans answere, concerninge the steple and pulpit. xii.

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

Of the beggers answere to M. Skelton the poete. xiii.

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

Of the chaplen, that sayde our lady matens a bed. xiiii.

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

Of him that lost his purse in London. xv.

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

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

Of the marchaunt that lost his bodgette betwene Ware and Lon[don]. xvi.

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

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

Of him that was called cuckolde. xvii.

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

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

Of the iolous man. xviii.

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

Of the fatte woman that solde frute. xix.

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

Of a poller that begyled a prest. xx.

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

Of Papirius pretextatus. xxi.

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

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

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

Of the corrupte man of lawe. xxii.

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

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

Of kynge Lowes of France, and the husbandman. xxiii.

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

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

Of an other picke-thanke, and the same kinge. xxiiii.

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

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

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

Of Thales the astronomer that fell in a ditch. xxv.

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

Of the astronomer that theues robbed. xxvi.

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

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

Of the plough man that sayde his pater noster. xxvii.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of hym that fell of a tre and brake his rybbe. xxx.

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

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

Of the frier that brayde in his sermon. xxxi.

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

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

The oration of the ambassadour sent to Pope Urban. xxxii.

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

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

Of the ambassadour sent to the prince Agis. xxxiii.

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

The answere of Cleomenes to the Samiens ambassadour. xxxiiii.

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

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

Of the wyse man Piso and his seruant. xxxv.

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

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

Of the marchant that made a wager with his lord. xxxvi.

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

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

Of the friere that gaue scrowes agaynst the pestilence. xxxvii.

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

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

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

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

Gelidus jacet anguis in herbÂ.

Of the phisitian, that vsed to write bylles ouer eue. xxxviii.

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

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

Of hym that wolde confesse hym by writinge. xxxix.

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

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

Of the hermite of Padowe. xl.

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

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

Of the Uplandysshe man, that sawe the kynge. xli.

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

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

Of the courtier that bad the boy holde his horse. xlii.

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

Of the deceytfull scriuener. xliii.

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

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

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

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

Of hym that payde his dette with crienge bea. xlv.

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

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

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

Of the woman that appeled fro kyng Philip to kynge Philippe. xlvi.

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

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

Of the olde woman, that prayde for the welfare of the tyrant Denise. xlvii.

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

Of the phisitian Eumonus. xlviii.

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

Of Socrates and his scoldinge wyfe. xlix.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of the inholders[222] wyfe and her ii louers. li.

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

Of hym that healed franticke men. lii.

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

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

Of hym that sayde he was not worthy to open the gate to the kynge. liii.

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

Of mayster Uauasour and Turpin his man. liiii.

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

Of hym that sought his wyfe agaynst the streme. lv.

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

Of hym that at a skyrmyshe defended him with his feet. lvi.

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

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

Of hym that wolde gyue a songe for his dyner. lvii.

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

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

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

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

Of the foole that thought hym selfe deed. lviii.

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

Anone after, an other of them mette hym, and asked hym if he had nat an ague: for your face and colour (quod he) sheweth that ye be very sycke. Than the foole beganne a lyttel to doubt, whether he were sycke or no: for he halfe beleued that they sayd trouth. Whan he had gone a lytel farther, the thyrde man mette hym, and sayde: Jesu! manne, what do you out of your bed? ye loke as ye wolde nat lyue an houre to an ende. Nowe he doubted greatly, and thought verily in his mynde, that he had hadde some sharpe ague; wherfore he stode styll and wolde go no further; and, as he stode, the fourth man came and sayde: Jesu! man, what dost thou here, and arte so sycke? Gette the home to thy bedde: for I parceyue thou canste nat lyue an houre to an ende. Than the foles harte beganne to feynte,[237] and [he] prayde this laste man that came to hym to helpe hym home. Yes, quod he, I wyll do as moche for the as for myn owne brother. So home he brought hym, and layde hym in his bed, and than he fared with hym selfe, as thoughe he wolde gyue vp the gooste. Forth with came the other felowes, and saide he hadde well done to lay hym in his bedde. Anone after, came one whiche toke on hym to be a phisitian; whiche, touchynge the pulse, sayde the malady was so vehement, that he coulde nat lyue an houre. So they, standynge aboute the bedde, sayde one to an other: nowe he gothe his waye: for his speche and syght fayle him; by and by he wyll yelde vp the goste. Therfore lette vs close his eyes, and laye his hands a crosse, and cary hym forth to be buryed. And than they sayde lamentynge one to an other: O! what a losse haue we of this good felowe, our frende?

The foole laye stylle, as one [that] were deade; yea, and thought in his mynde, that he was deade in dede. So they layde hym on a bere, and caryed hym through the cite. And whan any body asked them what they caryed, they sayd the corps of Nigniaca to his graue. And euer as they went, people drew about them. Among the prece[238] ther was a tauerners boy, the whiche, whan he herde that it was the cors of Nigniaca, he said to them: O! what a vile bestly knaue, and what a stronge thefe is deed! by the masse, he was well worthy to haue ben hanged longe ago. Whan the fole harde those wordes, he put out his heed and sayd: I wys, horeson, if I were alyue nowe, as I am deed, I wolde proue the a false lyer to thy face. They, that caryed him, began to laugh so hartilye, that they sette downe the bere, and wente theyr waye.

By this tale ye maye se, what the perswasion of many doth. Certaynly he is very wyse, that is nat inclined to foly, if he be stered therevnto by a multitude. Yet sapience is founde in fewe persones: and they be lyghtly[239] olde sobre men.[240]

Of the olde man and his sonne that brought his asse to the towne to sylle. lix.

¶ An olde man on a tyme and a lyttell boye his sonne droue a litel asse before them, whiche he purposed to sylle at the markette towne, that they went to. And bicause he so dyd, the folkes that wrought by the way syde, blamed hym; wherfore he set vp his sonne, and went hym selfe on fote. Other, that sawe that, called hym foole, by cause he lette the yonge boye ryde, and he, beynge so aged, to goo a foote. Than he toke downe the boye, and lepte vp and rode hym selfe. Whanne he hadde rydden a lyttell waye, he harde other that blamed hym, bycause he made the lyttell yonge boye ronne after as a seruaunte, and he his father to ryde. Than he sette vppe the boye behynde hym, and so rode forthe.

Anone he mette with other, that asked hym if the asse were his owne, by whiche wordes he coniected, that he did nat wel so to ouercharge the lyttell sely asse, that vnethe[241] was able to beare one. Thus he, troubled with their dyuers and manyfolde opinions; whiche, neither with his asse vacant, nor he alone, nor his sonne alone, nor bothe to gether rydyng at ones on the asse, coulde passe forth with out detraction and blame. Wherfore at last he bounde the asse[s] feet to gether, and put through a staffe; and so he and his sonne began to beare the asse betwene them on their shulders to the towne. The noueltie of whiche syght caused euery body to laughe and blame the folysshenes of them both. The sely olde man was so sore agreued that, as he sat and rested hym on a ryuers syde, he threwe his asse in to the water; and so whan he had drowned his asse he tourned home agayne. Thus the good man, desyrynge to please euerye bodye, contentynge none at all, loste his asse.

By this tale appereth playnelye, that they, whiche commyt them selfe to the opinion of the common people, ben oppressed with great myserye and seruage: for how is it possible to please all, whan euerye man hath a dyuers opinion, and dyuerslye iudgeth and that was well knowen to the poet, whan he sayde:

Scinditur incertum studia in contraria vulgus.

And as Cicero, Persius, and Flaccus say: as many men so many myndes: as many heedes so many wyttes. That, that pleaseth one, displeaseth an other: Fewe alowe that that they loue nat: and that that a man aloweth, he thynketh good. Therfore the beste is, that euery man liue well, as a good Christen man shulde, and care nat for the vayne wordes and ianglynge of the people. For bablynge (as Plutarchus sayth) is a greuous disease, and harde to be remedied. For that that shulde heale it (which is wordes of wisdome) cureth them that harkneth there vnto; but pratlers wille here none but them selfe.

Of him that sought his asse and rode on his backe. lx.

¶ There was in the countrey of Florence an husbande man, that vsed to carye corne to the market vpon many lytell asses. On a tyme as he came home warde, bycause he was somewhat werye, to ease him selfe, he rode on one the strongest of them. And as he rode, dryuinge his asses before him, he counted them, and forgot the asse that he rode on; wherfore he thought still that he lacked one. Thus sore troubled in his mynde, he bad his wyfe set vp his asses, and hastily rode agayne backe to the towne vii myles of, to seke the asse that he rode on. He asked euery body that he met, if they sawe an asse straye alone. Whan he herde euery bodye saye they sawe none suche, makynge great sorowe, he retourned home agayne. At laste, whan he was alyghted his wyfe parceyued and shewedde hym playnlye, that the asse, that he rode on, was the same that he soughte, and made suche sorowe fore.

This ieste may be well applied vnto suche as note the defautes, that they lyghtly[242] spy in other, and take none hede, nor can nat se, what ils they haue or[243] bene spotted with them selfe.

The answere of Fabius to Liuius. lxi.

¶ Whan Anniball, the capitayne of Cartage, had conquered Tarent (a towne perteinyng to the Romayns), all saue the castell, and had lefte a garnison to kepe it, whan the worthy Romayne Fabius had knowelege therof, he pryuely conducted an armye thether, and got the towne agayne, and pylled[244] it. Than M. Liuius that kepte the castell with the garnison, sayde bostynge him selfe, that Fabius had gotte the towne through him and his helpe. You saye trouth, quod Fabius: for if you had nat loste the towne, I shulde neuer haue gotte hit.[245]

The answere of Poltis, the kynge of Thrace, to the Troyan embassadors.[246] lxii.

¶ Plutarche lyke wyse reherseth that, durynge the warre of Troy, the Grekes and also the Troians sent ambassadours to a kynge of Thrace calledde Poltis, whiche kynge answered th ambassadours and bade, that Alexandre shulde delyuer agayne Helayne (for she was the cause of the warre), and he wolde gyue him ii fayre wyues for her.

The wyse answere of Hanibal to kynge Antiochus, concerninge his ryche armye. lxiii.

¶ Whan kynge Antiochus had prepared to make warre to the Romayns, he caused his armye to mustre before Anniball. So they shewed and mustred, both horse men and fote men; of whose ryche and sumptuous armour and apparaile al the felde glistred and shone. How saye you, quod the kynge to Hanibal, is nat this armye sufficient ynough for the Romayns? Yes, quod Haniball, and though they were the moste couetous of all the worlde. The kynge mente one thing, and he answered an other.[247]

The wordes of Popilius the Romayn embassadour to Antiochus the kynge. lxiiii.

¶ One C. Popilius was sente vp[o]n a tyme by the Senatours of Rome with letters to Antiochus the kynge of Syrye, wherin the kyng was commaunded to calle his armye backe agayne oute of Aegipte: and that he shulde suffer the chyldren of Ptolome and theyr realme in peace. As th embassadour came by the kynges tentes and pauylyons, Antiochus a good waye of saluted him, but he did nat salute the kynge agayne, but delyuered to him his letters. Whan the kynge hadde redde the letters, he sayde, that he muste take counsayle, before he made him an answere. Popilius, with a rod that he had in his hande, made a compace aboute the kynge, and sayde: euen here standinge, take counsayle, and make me an answere. Euery man hadde meruayle at the grauite and stout stomacke of the man; and whan Antiochus was contente to do as the Romayns wolde haue hym, than Popilius both saluted and embraced him.[248]

Of him that loued the marchants wyfe. lxv.

¶ Ther was a yonge lusty gentyll man vpon a tyme that was ryght amorous, and loued a certayne marchauntes wyfe oute of all measure, in so moch that he folowed her to the churche and other places, but he durste neuer speake. At the laste he, with two or thre of his felowes, folowed her to a fryers, where he hadde tyme and place conueniente to speake thre or four wordes to her, that he before had deuysed. So one of his felowes sayde: go nowe, speake to her. But he stode styll all astonied. They egged[249] and prouoked him so moche, that at last he wente vnto her, and, clene forgettynge those wordes that he had thoughte to haue spoken, he said to her on this wise: maistres, I am your owne lytel seruante; wherat she smyled and sayd: syr, I nede nat your seruyce: for I haue seruantes inow at home, that can brusshe, sponge, wasshe and do all my other busines. The whiche answere and folysshe basshemente of the gentyl man caused his felowes to laugh hartelye. This maner of folye was well knowen to the poet, whan he sayde:

Incipit affari, mediaque in voce resistit.

Folysshe loue maketh folkes astonied
And eke to raue without remembrance
Whan they shulde speake, they bene abasshed
And of theyr wordes can make none vtterance
Nor be so hardye them selfe to auance
What tyme they se of her the swete face
Of whom the loue theyr hartes doth enbrace.

Of the woman that couerd her heed and shewed her taile. lxvi.

¶ As a woman, that for a certayne impedimente had shaued her heed, sat in her house bare heed, one of her neighbours called her forth hastely into the strete, and for haste she forgotte to putte on her kerchefe. When her neighbour sawe her so, she blamed her for cominge abrode bare heed: wherfore she whypte vp her clothes ouer her heed. And so to couer her hed she shewed her * * *. They, that stode by, beganne to laugh at her folysshenes, whiche to hyde a lytell faute shewed a greatter.[250]

This tale touchethe them, that wolde couer a smalle offence with a greatter wyckednesse; and as the prouerbe saythe: Stomble at a strawe, and leape ouer a blocke.

Howe Alexander was monysshed to slee the fyrste that he mette. lxvii.

¶ Whan great Alexander wolde entre in to Perse lande with his armye, he counsayled with Apollo of his good spede:[251] and by lotte[252] he was warned, that he shulde commaunde to slee the fyrst that he mette, whan he issued out at a gate. Perchaunce, the fyrste that he mette was a man dryuynge an asse before hym. Incontinent the kyng commaunded to take and put hym to dethe. Whan the poore man sawe, that they wolde slee him, he said: what haue I done? Shall I that am an innocent [man] be putte to deathe? Alexander, to excuse his dede, sayde, he was warned by diuine monition to commaunde to slee the fyrste that he mette comynge out at that gate. If it be so, myghty kyng (quod the man), than the lotte dyuine hath ordeyned an other to suffre this deth and not me: for the lytel asse, that I droue before me, mette you fyrste.

Whiche subtyle sayenge greatly pleased Alexander: for elles he had done amysse; and so he caused the beaste to be slayne.

By this tale one may note, that it is better sometyme to be laste than fyrste.

Howe the cite of Lamsac was saued from destruction. lxviii.

¶ As great Alexander on a tyme was fully purposed to haue vtterly distroyed a great cite, called Lamsac,[253] he sawe his mayster Anaximenes[254] come towarde him withoute the walles: and bicause the kynge perceyued manifestlye, that he came to entreate hym for the cite, he sware a great othe, that he wolde nat do that that he came to desyre hym fore. Than Anaximenes sayde: sir, I desyre your grace, that this same cite Lampsac may be vtterly distroyed. Through which sage and subtile sayeng the noble auncient citie was saued from ruyne and destruction.

Howe Demosthenes defended a mayde. lxix.

¶ There were two men on a time, the whiche lefte a great somme of money in kepyng with a maiden on this condition, that she shulde nat delyuer hit agayne, excepte they came bothe to gether for hit. Nat lang after, one of them cam to hir mornyngly arayde, and sayde that his felowe was deed, and so required the money, and she delyuered it to hym. Shortly after came the tother man, and required to haue the moneye that was lefte with her in kepyng. The maiden was than so sorowfull, both for lacke of the money, and for one to defende her cause, that she thought to hange her selfe. But Demosthenes, that excellent oratour, spake for her and sayd: sir, this mayden is redy to quite her fidelite,[255] and to deliuer agayne the money that was lefte with her in kepynge, so that thou wylt brynge thy felowe with the to resceyue it. But that he coude nat do.

¶ There was a rude clubbysshe[256] felowe, that longe had serued the duke of Orliance; wherfore he cam on a tyme to the duke, and desired to be made a gentyll man. To whom the duke answered: in good feyth, I may well make the ryche, but as for gentyl man I can neuer make the.[257]

By which wordes appereth, that goodes and riches do not make a gentyl man, but noble and vertuous conditions do.

Of the gentyll man and his shrewde wyfe. lxxi.

¶ There was a certayne gentyll man, that had a cursed chydynge wyfe, that wente euery day, and complayned on hym to a religious man, the whiche religious man toke vpon hym by weye of confession to reconcile and accorde them to gether: and the gentyll man was very well contente, that he so shulde do, and came to him therfore. Whan the gentyll man was come, the religious man badde hym shewe his offences and trespaces. No, quod the gentyll man, that nedeth nat: for I knowe verye well my wyfe hath shewed vnto you all the offences that euer I dyd, and moche more.

Of the two yonge men that rode to Walsyngham.[258] lxxii.

¶ One John Roynoldes[259] rode oute of London vpon a tyme towarde Walsyngham, in company of a yonge man of the same cite, that hadde nat moche ben accustomed to ryde. So they came to an Inne, where a[260] great companye was lodged. And in the mornynge whan euery man made hym redy to ryde, and some were on horsebacke setting forwarde, John Roynoldes founde his companion, syttynge in a browne study at the Inne gate, to whom he sayd: for shame, man, how syttest thou? Why doste thou nat make the redy to horsebacke, that we myght sette forwarde with companye? I tary (quod he) for a good cause. For what cause, quod Roynoldes? Marye (quod he), here be so many horses, that I can nat telle whiche is myne owne amonge the other, and I knowe well, whan euery man is riden and gone, the horse that remaineth behynde must nedes be myn.

Of the yonge man of Bruges, and his spouse. lxxiii.

¶ A yonge man of Bruges, that was betrouthed to a fayre mayden, came on a tyme, whan her mother was out of the way, and had to do with her. Whan her mother was come in, anone she perceyued by her doughters chere, what she had done; wherfore she was so sore displesed, that she sewed a diuorse, and wolde in no wyse suffre that the yonge man shulde marye her daughter.

Nat longe after, the same yonge man was maryed to an other mayden of the same parysshe: and as he and his wyfe satte talkynge on a tyme of the forsayde dammusell, to whome he was betrouthed, he fell in a nyce[261] laughyng. Whereat laugh ye? quod his wyfe. It chaunced on a tyme (quod he), that she and I dydde suche a thyng to gether, and she tolde hit to her mother. Therin (quod his wyfe) she playde the foole: a seruante of my fathers playde that game with me an hundred tymes, and yet I neuer tolde my mother. Whan he herde her saye so, he lefte his nyce laughynge.

Of hym that made as he hadde ben a chaste lyuer. lxxiiii.

¶ A felowe, that toke vpon him, as he had ben the moste chaste and beste disposed man lyuinge, was by one of his felowes on a tyme taken in aduoutry,[262] and sharpely rebuked for it, bycause he prated so moche of chastite, and yet was taken in the same faute. To whome he answerde againe: O fool, doste thou thinke that I did it for bodely pleasure? No! no! I dyd it but onely to subdue my flesshe, and to purge my reynes.

Wherby ye may perceyue, that of all other dissemblynge hipocrytes are the worste.

Of hym that the olde roode fell on. lxxv.

¶ As a man kneled vpon a tyme prayenge before an olde rode, the rode felle downe on him and brak his hede; wherfore he wolde come no more in the churche halfe a yere after. At lengthe, by the prouocation of his nighbours, he cam to the churche agayne; and bycause he sawe his nighbours knele before the same rode, he kneled downe lyke wyse and sayde thus: well, I may cappe and knele to the; but thou shake neuer haue myn harte agayne, as long as I lyue.

By which tale appereth, that by gentyll and courteyse entreatinge mens myndes ben obteyned.[263] For though the people cappe and knele to one in highe authorite, yet lyttell whoteth he, what they thynke.

Of the wydow that wolde nat wedde for bodily pleasure. lxxvi.

¶ There was a ryche wydowe, whiche desyredde a gossyp of hers, that she wold get her an husband: nat for the nyce playe, quod she, but to th' entente he may kepe my goodes to gether, whiche is an harde thinge for me to do, beynge a lone woman. Her gossyp, whiche vnderstode her conceyte, promysed her so to do. Aboute iii or iiii dayes after, she came to her agayne, and sayde: gossyp, I haue founde an husbande for you, that is a prudente, a ware, and a worldlye[264] wyse man, but he lacketh his priuey members, wherof ye force nat. Go to the dyuell with that husbande (quod the wydowe): for though that I desyre nat the nyce playe: yet I wylle that myne husbande shall haue that, where with we may be reconciled, if we falle at variance.

Of the couetous ambassodour, that wolde here no musike. lxxvii.

¶ Whan a couetous man on a time was come vnto a certain cite, whither he was sent as ambassadour for his contrey, anon the mynstrels of the cite came to him to fil his eares with swete din, to th' intente he shuld fyl their purses with money. But he, perceyunge that, bad one of his seruauntes go and telle them, that he coulde nat than intende[265] to here their musicke, but he muste demene great sorow, for his mother was deed. So the minstrels, disapointed of theyr purpose, all sadlye went theyr waye. And whan a worshipfull man of the cite, that was his frende, herd tell of his mourning, he came to visete and comforte him; and so in talkynge together he asked, howe longe a go it was that his mother deceased? Truelye (quod he), hit is xl yere ago. Than his frende, vnderstandyinge his subtilte, beganne to laughe hartely.

This tale is aplyed to the couetous men, whiche by al crafte and meanes study to kepe and encreace theyr money and substance; agaynst whiche vyce many thinges ben wryten. As farre (sayth one) is that frome a couetous man that he hath, as that he hath nat.[266] And Diogenes calleth couetousnes the heed of all yuels, and saynt Hieronyme calleth couetousnes the rote of all yuels. And for an example, the tale folowinge shall be of couetousnes.

How Denise the tirant serued a couetous man. lxxix.

¶ It was shewed to Denise the tyran, that a couetous man of the cite had hyd a great some of money in the grounde, and lyued moste wretchedly: wherfore he sente for the man, and commaunded him to go dyg vp the money, and so to deliuer it vnto him. The man obeyed, and delyuered vnto the tyran all the golde and treasure that he hadde, saue a small some, that he priuelye kept a syde: where with he wente in to an other cite, and forsoke Syracuse: and there bought a lytell lande, where vpon he lyued. Whan the tyran vnderstode that he hadde so done, he sent for him agayne; and whan he was come, the tyran sayde to him: syth thou haste lerned nowe to vse well thy goodes, and nat to kepe them vnprofytably, I wyll restore them all to the agayne. And so he dyd.

Of the olde man, that quengered[267] the boy oute of the apletree with stones. lxxx.

¶ As an olde man walked on a tyme in his orcherd he loked vp, and sawe a boye sytte in a tree, stealynge his apples; whom he entreated with fayre wordes to come downe, and let his apples alone. And whan the olde man sawe, that the boye cared nat for him, by cause of his age, and set noughte by his wordes, he sayde: I haue harde saye, that nat onlye in wordes, but also in herbes, shulde be greatte vertue. Wherfore he plucked vp herbes, and beganne to throwe them at the boye, wherat the boye laughed hartelye, and thought that the olde man hadde ben mad, to thynke to driue him out of the tree with casting of herbes. Than the olde man sayde: well, seynge that nother wordes nor herbes haue no vertue agaynste the stealer of my goodes, I wylle proue what stones wylle do, in whiche, I haue harde men saye, is great vertue; and so he gathered his lappe full of stones, and threwe them at the boye, and compelled hym to come downe, and renne awaye.

This tale sheweth, that they, that bene wyse, proue many wayes, before they arme them.

Of the ryche man that wolde not haue a glyster. lxxxi.

¶ There was a certayn riche man on a tyme, whiche felle sycke, to the whose curynge came many phisitians (for flyes by heapes flee to honye). Amonge them all there was one that sayde, that he muste nedes take a glyster, if he wolde be holle. Whan the sicke man, that was nat envred with that medicine, harde hym saye so, he sayde in a great furye: out a dores with those phisitians! they be madde: for, where as my payne is in my heed, they wolde heale me in myne * * * *.

This fable sheweth that holsom thynges to them, that lacke knowlege and experyence, seme hurtfull.

Of hym that feyned hym selfe deed to proue what his wyfe wolde do. lxxxii.

¶ A yonge married man on a time, to proue, to here and to se what his wyfe wolde do, if he were deed, came in to his house, whyle his wyfe was forthe wasshynge of clothes, and layd him downe in the floore, as he had ben deed. Whan his wyfe came in, and sawe him lye so, she thought he had ben deed in dede; wherfore she stode euen stylle, and deuysed with her selfe whether was better to bewayle his dethe forth with, or els to dyne fyrste; for she had eate of nomeate[268] all the day. All other thinges consydered, she determined to dyne fyrste. So she cut a coloppe of baken, and broyled it on the coles, and began to eate theron a pace; she was so hungrye, that she toke no hede of drynke. At laste, the saltenes of the meate made her to thyrste so sore, that she muste nedes drynke. So, as she toke the potte in her hande, and was goyng downe into her seller to drawe drynke, sodaynely came one of her neyghbours for a cole o' fyre.[269] Wherfore she stepped backe quickely, and though she was right thyrsty, yet she sette the potte a syde; and as [if] her husbande had than fallen downe deed, she beganne to wepe, and with many lamentable wordes to bewayle his dethe; which wepynge and walyng and sodaine dethe of her husbande caused all the neyghbours to come thyther. The man laye stylle in the floore, and so helde his brethe, and closed his eies, that he semed for certayne to be deade. At laste, whanne he thought he had made pastyme inough, and herynge his wyfe saye thus: alas! dere husbande, what shall I do nowe? he loked vp and sayde: full yll, my swete wyfe, excepte ye go quyckely and drynke; wherwith they al from wepyng tourned to laughynge, specially whan they vnderstode the matter and the cause of her thyrste.

Wherby ye may se, that nat without a good skyl the poet sayde:

Ut flerent oculos erudiere suos.

Of the poure man, into whose house theues brake by nyghte.[270] lxxxiii.

¶ There was a poore man on a tyme, the whiche vnto theues, that brake into his house on nyght, he sayde on this wyse: syrs, I maruayle, that ye thynke to fynde any thyng here by nyght: for I ensure you I can fynd nothing, whan it is brode day.

By this tale appereth playnly
That pouerte is a welthy mysery.

Of hym that shulde haue ben hanged for his scoffynge. lxxxiiii.

¶ There was a mery felowe in hygh Almayn, the whiche, with his scoffynge and iestynge, had so moche displeased a great lorde of the countreye, that he thretned to hange hym, if euer he coude take hym in his countrey. Nat longe after, this lordes seruauntes toke hym, and hanged he shulde be. Whanne he sawe there was no remedy but that he shulde dye, he sayde: my lorde, I muste nedes suffre dethe, whiche I knowe I haue wel deserued. But yet I beseke you graunte me one peticion for my soule[s] helthe. The lorde, at the instaunce of the people that stode aboute, so it dydde not concerne his lyfe, was contente to graunte it hym. Than the felowe sayde: I desyre you, my lorde, that after I am hanged, to come iii mornynges, fresshe and fastynge, and kysse me on the bare ****. Where vnto the lorde answered: the deuyll kysse thyne ****: and so let hym go.

Of hym that had his goose stole. lxxxv.

¶ A man, that had a goose stoole from hym, went and complayned to the curate, and desyred hym to do so moche as helpe, that he had his goose again. The curate sayde he wolde. So on Sonday the curate, as though he wolde curse, wente vp in to the pulpit, and bade euery body syt downe. So, whan they were set, he said: why sit ye nat downe? We be set all redy, quod they. Naye (quod the curate) he that dyd stele the goose sitteth nat. Yes, that I do, quod he. Sayste thou that, quod the curate? I charge the, on peyne of cursing, to bryng the goose home ageyn.

Of the begger that sayd he was kyn to kyng Philip of Macedone. lxxxvi.

¶ There came a begger to kyng Philip of Macedone on a tyme, and prayde the kyng to gyue hym some what; and farther he sayde he was his kynse man. And whan the kyng asked hym which way, he answered and sayde howe they came bothe of Adam. Than the kynge commanded to gyue hym an almes. Whan the begger sawe it was but a small pece of moneye, he sayde, that was nat a semely gyfte for a kynge. The kynge answered: if I shuld gyue euery manne so moche, that is my kynse manne lyke as thou arte, I shulde leaue nothynge for my selfe.[271]

Of Dantes answere to the iester. lxxxvii.

¶ Dantes the poete dwelled a whyle with Can, the Prince de la Scale,[272] with whome also dwelled an other Florentyne, that hadde neyther lernynge nor prudence, and was a man mete for nothynge but to scoffe and ieste; but yet with his mery toyes, he so moued the sayd Can, that he dydde greatly enryche hym. And, bycause Dantes dispised his foolysshenes, this scoffer sayd to hym: how cometh it, Dantes, that thou art helde[273] so wyse and so well lerned, and yet arte poore and nedy? I am an vnlerned man and am an ignorant fole, and yet I am farre richer than thou art. To whom Dantes answered: if I may fynde a lord lyke and conformable to my maners, as thou hast founde to thyn, he wyll lyke wyse make me ryche.

Of hym that had sore eyes.[274] lxxxviii.

¶ One, that had sore eies, was warned of the phisitian, that he shulde in any wyse forbeare drinking or els lose his eies: to whom he sayd: it is more pleasure for me to lose myne eies with drinkynge, than to kepe them for wormes to eate them oute.

By this tale ye may perceyue, that it auayleth nat to warne some for theyr own profytte.

Of the olde woman that had sore eyes. lxxxix.

¶ There was an olde woman, the whiche bargayned with a surgean to heale her sore eyes; and whanne he hadde made her eies hole, and that she sawe better, she couenaunted that he shulde be payde his moneye, and not before. So he layde a medycyne to her eyes, that shulde not be taken awaye the space of v dayes, in whiche tyme she myghte nat loke vppe. Euery daye, whan he came to dresse her, he bare awaye some what of her householde stouffe, table clothes, candelstickes and disshes. He lefte no thinge, that he coulde carye clene. So whan her eies were hole, she loked vp, and sawe that her householde stouffe was caryede awaye. She sayde to the surgian, that came and required his money for his labour: syr, my promise was to pay you, whan ye made me se better than I did before. That is trouth, quod he. Mary, quod she, but I se worse nowe than I did. Before ye layde medicins to myn eies, I sawe moche fayre stouffe in myn house, and now I se nothinge at all.

Of hym that had the custodi of a warde. xc.

¶ A certayn man, that had the custody of a ward and his goodes, and in shorte space had spente all awaye, was by the gouernour of the cite commanded to bring in his bookes of Introitus et exitus, that is to saye, of entraunce and layenge oute, and to gyue accompte of the orphlins[275] goodes. So whan he came, he shewed fyrste his mouthe, and sayde, here it wente in: and after he shewed vp his ****, and sayde: here hit wente out, and other bookes of Introitus et exitus I haue none.

Of the excellent paynter, that had foule children. xci.

¶ There was a peinter in Rome that was an excellent counnynge man, and bycause he had foule children, one sayde to him: by my feyth, I maruayle that you paynte so goodelye, and gette so foule chyldren. Yea, quod the peynter, I make my chyldren in the darke, and I peynte those fygures by daye lyght.[276]

Of the scoffer that made a man a south sayer. xcii.

¶ There was a mery scoffynge felowe on a tyme, the whiche toke on him to teach a man to be a south sayer. Whan they were agreedde, what he shuld haue for his labour, the scoffer sayde to the man: holde! eate this rounde pellet, and I warant thou shalte be a south sayer. The man toke and put it in his mouth, and began to champe theron, but hit sauered so ill, that he spyt it out forth with, and said: phy! this pellet, that thou gyueste me to eate, sauereth all of a *****: Thou sayst trouth (quod the scoffer), nowe thou arte a south sayer; and therefore paye me my money.[277]

Of the marchaunt of Florence called Charles. xciii.

¶ A marchaunt of Florence, called Charles, came frome Auignone to Rome; and as he sate at souper with a great company, one asked him how the Florentins at Auignone fared? He sayde they were merye and gladde: for they that dwelle there a yere (quod he) be as men that were franticke and out of theyr myndes. Than an other, that sate at souper with them, asked this Charles, how longe he had dwelled there. He answerde: vi monethes. Charles (quod he that asked him the question), thou haste a great wytte: for hit, that other be about xii monethes, thou hast fulfylled in halfe a yere.

Of the chesshire man called Eulyn. xciiii.

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

Of him that desired to be set vpon the pillori. xcv.

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

Of the wydowes daughter that was sent to the abbot with a couple of capons. xcvi.

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

Of the two men, that dranke a pynte of whyte wyne to gether. xcvii.

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

Of the doctour that went with the fouler to catche byrdes. xcviii.

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

Of hym that vndertoke to teache an asse to rede. xcix.

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

By whiche tale appereth, that it is holsome to take leyser inough aboute a thynge that is harde to do, specially whanne a man can nat chose to take hit on hande.[286][Pg 116]

Of the fryer that confessed the woman.[287] c.

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

Howe a chaplen of Louen deceyued an vsurer. ci.

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

Of the same chaplen and one that spited him. cii.

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

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

Of the olde man that put him selfe in his sonnes handes. ciii.

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

Of hym that had a flye peynted in his shilde. ciiii.

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

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

Of th' emperour Augustus and the olde men. cv.

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

Phocions oration to the Athen[ian]s.[295] cvi.

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

Of Demosthenes and Phocion. cvii.

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

Of Phocion that refused Alexanders gyfte. cviii.

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

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

Of Denyse the tyranne and his sonne. cix.

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

Of Pomponius the Romayne, that was brought before Mithridates. cx.

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

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

Of Titus and the iester. cxi.

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

On suche a visaged man writeth Martiall:

Utere lactucis, ac mollibus utere maluis.
Nam faciem durum Phebe cacantis habes.

Of Scipio Nasica and Ennius the poete.[297] cxii.

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

Of Fabius Minutius and his sonne. cxiii.

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

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

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

Of Aurelian, that was displeased, bycause the cite Tyna was closed agaynst hym. cxiiii.

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

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

Of the Nunne forced that durst not crie. cxv.

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

Of him that sayde he was the Diuelles man. cxvi.

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

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

Of the vplandishe[303] priest, that preached of Charitie. cxvii.

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

Another sayinge of the same preest. cxviii.

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

Of the fryer that praysed sainct Frauncis. cxix.

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

Of hym that warned his wife of wasshynge her face in foule puddell water. cxx.

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

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

Of the husbandman that caused the iudge to geue sentence agaynst him selfe. cxxi.

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

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

Of the Italian friar that shoulde preach before the B. of Rome and his cardinals. cxxii.

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

Of the doctour that sayd, in Erasmus workes were heresies. cxxiii.

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

Of the frier that preached at Paules crosse agaynst Erasmus. cxxiv.

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

Of an other frier that taxed Erasmus for writyng Germana theologia. cxxv.

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

Of an other that inueighed agaynst the same Erasmus. cxxvi.

¶ Because Erasmus wrote, that it wer better for the monke of the charterhouse to eate fleshe than to suffer his brother Venire in capitis discrimen, that is to saye, than his brother should stand in ieoperdie of his life: this dotishe doctour interpretat his wordes thus: The charterhouse monke wer better eate fleshe, than his head shoulde a littell ake.[314][Pg 139]

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

Of kyng Richarde the iii, and the Northern man.[315] cxxvii.

¶ After kyng Richard the iii had vsurped the crowne of England, he, to staye and stablishe the people, that sore murmured against his dooynges, sent for fyue thousand men out of the North partes vp to London: and as he was mustryng of them in Thickettes feelde, one of the souldiers, cam, and clappynge the kyng on the shoulder, said: Diccon, Diccon, by the mis, ays blith that thaust kyng![316][Pg 140]

Of the Canon and his man. cxxviii

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

Of the same Canon and his sayd man. cxxix.

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

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

Of the blynde man and his boye. cxxxi.

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

Of him that sold two lodes of hey. cxxxii.

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

How a mery man deuised to cal people to a playe. cxxxiii.

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

Those bylles moued the people (whan the daye came) to come thyther thycke and threfolde. Now he had hyred two men to stande at the gate with a boxe (as the facion is), who toke of euery persone that came in a peny, or an halfe peny at the least. So whan he thought the market was at the best, he came to the gate, and toke from the men[327] the boxe with money, and geuynge theym their duitie, bade them go into the hall, and see the rome kepte: for hee shoulde gooe and fetche in the plaiers. They went in, and he went out, and lockt the gate faste, and toke the key with hym: and gat hym on hys geldynge, whiche stode ready saddilled without Aldryshegate[328] at an In,[329] and towarde Barnet he roade apace. The people taryed from twoo a clocke tyll three, from three to foure, styll askyng and criyng: Whan shall the plaie begyn? How long shall we tarye? Whan the clocke stroke foure, all the people murmured and sayed: Wherefore tarye we any longer? Here shall be no playe. Where is the knaue, that hath beguyled vs hyther? It were almes to[330] thruste a dagger throughe hys chekes, sayeth one. It were well done to cutte of hys eares, sayeth an other. Haue hym to Newgat! sayeth one: nay, haue hym to Tyburne! sayed an other. Shall wee loose our money thus, saieth he? Shall wee bee thus beguiled, sayeth this man? shulde this be suffered, saieth that man? And so muttrynge and chydyng, they came to the gate to goe oute; but they coulde not. For it was faste lockt, and Qualitees had the key away with him. Now begynne they a freshe to fret and fume: nowe they swere and stare: now they stampe and threaten: for the locking in greeued them more than all the losse and mockery before: but all auayle not. For there muste they abide, till wayes may be founde to open the gate, that they maye goe out. The maidens that shoulde haue dressed theyr maisters suppers, they wepe and crye; boyes and prentises sorow and lament; they wote not what to say, whan thei come home.

For al this foule araye,
For al this great frai,
Qualites is mery ridyng on his waie.[331]

How the image of the dyuell was lost and sought. cxxxiiii.

¶ In the Goldesmithes hall, amonge theyr other plate, they had a fair standyng cuppe, with an image of S. Dunstane on the couer, whiche image hadde an image of the dyuell at his foote.[332] So it chaunced at a banket that the sayed image of the dyuell was lost and gone. On the morow after, the bedyll of the company was sent about to serche amonge the goldesmythes, if any suche came to be sold. And lyke as of other[333] he enquired of one, if any man had brought to hym to be solde the foole that sate at sainct Dunstanes foote vpon the couer of the cuppe? What foole meane you? quoth he. Mary, the diuell, sayde the bedill. Why, quoth the other, call ye the diuell a foole; ye shal find him a shrewd foole, if ye haue ought to do with hym? And why seke you for him here amonge vs? Where shoulde I els seke for hym? (sayde the bedill). Mary in hell, quoth he, for there ye shall be sure to fynde the dyuell.

Of Tachas, kyng of Aegypt, and Agesilaus. cxxxv.

¶ What tyme Agesilaus, king of the Lacedemonians, was come to Tachas the kyng of Egipt, to aide him in his wars: Tachas beholdyng Agesilaus to bee a man of so litel stature and smal personage tauntyng hym with this scoffe, sayde: The mountayne hath trauayled, Iupiter forbode, but yet hee hathe broughte forth a mouse.[334] Agesilaus beynge offended wyth hys saying, answered: and yet the tyme wyl come, that I shall seeme to the a Lyon. And not longe after, it chaunced through a sedycion that arose amonge the Aegypcyans, whan Agesilaus was gone from him, the king was constreyned to flee to the Persians.

Of Corar the Rhetorician, and Tisias hys scoler. cxxxvi.

¶ A certayne man called Corar, determyned hym selfe for mede[335] to teache the arte of Rhetorycke, with whom a yong man, named Tisias, couenanted on this wyse, that he wold pay him his wages, whan he had perfectly learned the scyence. So whan he had lerned the art, he made no haste to paye his teacher, wherfore hys mayster sued hym. Whan they came before the iudges, the yonge man demaunded of hys mayster, what was the effecte of the scyence? He aunswered: In reasonyng to perswade.[336] Than go to, if I perswade these honourable iudges that I owe you nothing, I wil pay you nothyng: for you are cast in your action. And yf I can not perswade them, than wil I pay you nothing, because I haue not yet perfectly learned the art. Corar wrestyng[337] the yonge mans owne argumente agaynst hym selfe, said: If thou perswade them, that thou oughteste[338] me nothynge, than (accordynge to the couenaunt) thou must nedes pay mee my wages: for thou haste the art perfectly. Now yf thou canst not perswade them: yet shalt thou pay mee my wages, because thou arte condemned by the Iudges' sentence to be my detour.

Of Augustus and Athenodorus the Phylosopher. cxxxvii.

¶ What tyme Athenodorus the Phylosopher had (by reason of hys greate age) obteyned lycence of Auguste to depart home, he admonysshed him, that beyng angry, he should neyth saye nor dooe any thyng, before he had by hym selfe rehearsed ouer the xxiiii Greeke letters. Whych saying whan the prince heard, he sayed: he had yet nede of him to teache hym the arte to keepe sylence, by coloure whereof he retayned the olde man about hym a whole yere longer.

By this tale we maie perceyue, that of al things a prince, a ruler, a iudge ought specyally to eschewe wrathe. For the morall booke sayeth: Anger troubleth the mynde, that it can not discerne the truth. And Seneca wryteth, that slowe tarryinge doeth profite in nothyng but in wrathe.

Of the frenche kyng and the brome seller.[339] cxxxviii.

¶ As a Frenche kyng on a tyme was in huntyng, he hapned to lose his companie, and comyng through a brome heath, he herde a poore man and his wife piteously complayne on fortune. The kyng, after he had wel heard the long lamentacion of theyr poore and miserable state, came vnto them, and after a few words he questioned with them howe they liued. They shewed him, how they came daily to that heath, and all the brome, that thei and their asse coud cary home, was lyttell enough to finde theim and their poor children meat. Well (quoth the kyng), loke that you bryng to morow early to the court gate as many bromes as you and your asse can carye, and see that you sell them well. For I warrant you thei shalbe bought apase. They thanked hym, and so he departed from them. Anon came the lordes, knightes, and gentilmen to the kinge, and home they rode. After supper the kyng called them all before hym, and gaue them in commaundement that neither lord, knyght, nor gentilman, should on the morow come into the courte wythout a new brome in his hande. For he had a thyng to doe, whiche they shoulde know afterwarde. So on the morowe, whan they come to the court gate, there found they the poore man, his wife and the asse, loded with bromes, whiche hee solde to the galauntes of the court, euen as he wolde him selfe. Wherby the sayd poore man was made riche for euer and they lyttell the woorse. Thus whan the kynge sawe the states and gentilmen of his court come in so wel furnished with grene bromes, and consydring the cause wherfore it was, he laughed merilye.

An other tale of the same frenche kyng.[340] cxxxix.

¶ There chaunced, in a certaine part of the realme, an offyce to fal into the kings handes by the deth of a man which was worth a cccc crounes by the yere. An honest witty gentilman, dwelling therby, trustyng to obteyne the sayde offyce, made as good speede to the courte as hee could, and as soone as he might come to the kynges presence, he kneled downe, and in most humble wise desired his grace to geue vnto hym that offyce, declaring what it was. The king perceiuing how good an office it was, and thinking therwith to rewarde some suche one of hys seruauntes, that had well deserued it, answered quickely, and sayd: My frend, be content; you get it not. The gentilman, heryng those wordes, sayd: I most hertely thancke your grace; both I and myne are mooste bounden to praye for your hyghnesse;—and so, makynge lowe obeysaunce, wente his waye. Whan he had gone a lyttell waye, the kyng commaunded to call hym againe. Whan he was come backe, the kyng asked him if he dyd well vnderstand, what answere he gaue hym. Yes, truely, sayd the gentilman. What sayd I, quoth the kynge? Marye, your grace bad me bee contente, for I shoulde not haue the offyce. Why dyd you than (quoth the kyng) geue me so great thankes? Because, sayde the gentylman, your grace gaue me so sone an answere without longer suite and losse of tyme, whiche would haue bene to me a very muche hyndraunce. For I haue at home a great householde, vnto the which it behoueth me to loke dylygently, or els it wyl be wrong wyth me. The kynge, markynge well the wysedom and dexterytee of the gentylman, and conceyuyng a fauoure towarde hym, sayd: Wel, nowe shal you thanke me twyse: for you shall haue the offyce that you sewe for: and than, castynge hys eyes vpon hys Chauncelloure, commaunded hym, that all suche wrytynges as concerned [t]hys sayd offyce, shoulde wyth al speede bee made oute, that he were at home agayne to ouerloke hys famyly.

What an Italyan fryer dyd in his preachyng. cxl.

¶ Robert Lyciense, a fryer of Italye (of whome we spake before), preachyng on a tyme with great vehemencye of wordes and gesture, exhorted the prynces and people to make warre agaynste the Turkes and other the enemies of chrystendome: and whan he came to the very effect, and [was] moste hotte and earnest in his tale, he began to wepe, that there were none, that wold to so godly a purpose offer them selfe to be capitains. If this be the let[341] of the mattier, beholde me here, whiche will be nothynge abasshed to cast aside this grey friers coate, and to take vpon mee to be a souldiour, or your capitaine. And euen with that woorde he caste of his vpper coate; and vnderneth he was a playne souldiour, arraied in a skarlet cloke, and a long rapier hangeyng by his side. And in this warlyke apparell, in the personage of a Capitan, he stode and preached halfe an houre. Being sente for of the Cardinals with whom he was familiar, hee was asked what was the pretence of that new example. He answered, that he did it for his wenches pleasure, who familiarly confessed that nothynge in the sayd Robert displeased hir, saue his friers coate. Then saide he to hir:

In what apparell shal I best plese you? In a
man of warres, quoth shee? Than se
that you be at my sermon to
morow, quoth he.[342]

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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