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Title: Chap-books of the Eighteenth Century

Author: John Ashton

Release date: April 27, 2015 [eBook #48800]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHAP-BOOKS
OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY ***

A CHAPMAN.

From "The Cries and Habits of the City of London," by M. Lauron,
1709.

CHAP-BOOKS

OF

THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

WITH

FACSIMILES, NOTES, AND INTRODUCTION

BY

JOHN ASHTON

London
CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY

1882
(All rights reserved)

PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.

INTRODUCTION.
Although these Chap-books are very curious, and on many accounts
interesting, no attempt has yet been made to place them before the public in
a collected form, accompanied by the characteristic engravings, without
which they would lose much of their value. They are the relics of a happily
past age, one which can never return, and we, in this our day of cheap,
plentiful, and good literature, can hardly conceive a time when in the major
part of this country, and to the larger portion of its population, these little
Chap-books were nearly the only mental pabulum offered. Away from the
towns, newspapers were rare indeed, and not worth much when obtainable
—poor little flimsy sheets such as nowadays we should not dream of either
reading or publishing, with very little news in them, and that consisting
principally of war items, and foreign news, whilst these latter books were
carried in the packs of the pedlars, or Chapmen, to every village, and to
every home.

Previous to the eighteenth century, these men generally carried ballads, as is
so well exemplified in the "Winter's Tale," in Shakespeare's inimitable
conception, Autolycus. The servant (Act iv. sc. 3) well describes his stock:
"He hath songs, for man, or woman, of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his
customers with gloves. He has the prettiest love songs for maids; so without
bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate burdens of 'dildos' and
'fadings:' 'jump her' and 'thump her;' and where some stretch-mouthed rascal
would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he
makes the maid to answer, 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man;' puts him
off, slights him, with 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man.'" And Autolycus,
himself, hardly exaggerates the style of his wares, judging by those which
have come down to us, when he praises the ballads: "How a usurer's wife
was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden; and how she longed
to eat adders' heads, and toads carbonadoed;" and "of a fish, that appeared
upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom

above water, and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids;" for the
wonders of both ballads, and early Chap-books, are manifold, and bear
strange testimony to the ignorance, and credulity, of their purchasers. These
ballads and Chap-books have, luckily for us, been preserved by collectors,
and although they are scarce, are accessible to readers in that national
blessing, the British Museum. There the Roxburghe, Luttrell, Bagford, and
other collections of black-letter ballads are easily obtainable for purposes of
study, and, although the Chap-books, to the uninitiated (owing to the
difficulties of the Catalogue), are not quite so easy of access, yet there they
exist, and are a splendid series—it is impossible to say a complete one,
because some are unique, and are in private hands, but so large, especially
from the middle to the close of the last century, as to be virtually so.

I have confined myself entirely to the books of the last century, as, previous
to it, there were few, and almost all black-letter tracts have been published
or noted; and, after it, the books in circulation were chiefly very inferior
reprints of those already published. As they are mostly undated, I have
found some difficulty in attributing dates to them, as the guides, such as
type, wood engravings, etc., are here fallacious, many—with the exception
of Dicey's series—having been printed with old type, and any wood block
being used, if at all resembling the subject. I have not taken any dated in the
Museum Catalogue as being of this present century, even though internal
evidence showed they were earlier. The Museum dates are admittedly
fallacious and merely approximate, and nearly all are queried. For instance,
nearly the whole of the beautiful Aldermary Churchyard (first) editions are
put down as 1750?—a manifest impossibility, for there could not have been
such an eruption of one class of publication from one firm in one year—and
another is dated 1700?, although the book from which it is taken was not
published until 1703. Still, as a line must be drawn somewhere, I have
accepted these quasi dates, although such acceptation has somewhat
narrowed my scheme, and deprived the reader of some entertainment, and I
have published nothing which is not described in the Museum Catalogue as
being between the years 1700 and 1800.

In fact, the Chap-book proper did not exist before the former date, unless
the Civil War and political tracts can be so termed. Doubtless these were
hawked by the pedlars, but they were not these pennyworths, suitable to

everybody's taste, and within the reach of anybody's purse, owing to their
extremely low price, which must, or ought to have, extracted every
available copper in the village, when the Chapman opened his budget of
brand-new books.

In the seventeenth, and during the first quarter of the eighteenth century, the
popular books were generally in 8vo form, i.e. they consisted of a sheet of
paper folded in eight, and making a book of sixteen pages; but during the
other seventy-five years they were almost invariably 12mo, i.e. a sheet
folded into twelve, and making twenty-four pages. After 1800 they rapidly
declined. The type and wood blocks were getting worn out, and never seem
to have been renewed; publishers got less scrupulous, and used any wood
blocks without reference to the letter-press, until, after Grub Street authors
had worked their wicked will upon them, Catnach buried them in a
dishonoured grave.

But while they were in their prime, they mark an epoch in the literary
history of our nation, quite as much as the higher types of literature do, and
they help us to gauge the intellectual capacity of the lower and lower
middle classes of the last century.

The Chapman proper, too, is a thing of the past, although we still have
hawkers, and the travelling "credit drapers," or "tallymen," yet penetrate
every village; but the Chapman, as described by Cotsgrave in his
"Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues" (London, 1611), no longer
exists. He is there faithfully portrayed under the heading "Bissoüart, m. A
paultrie Pedlar, who in a long packe or maund (which he carries for the
most part open, and (hanging from his necke) before him) hath Almanacks,
Bookes of News, or other trifling ware to sell."

Shakespeare uses the word in a somewhat different sense, making him more
of a general dealer, as in "Love's Labour's Lost," Act ii. sc. I:

"Princess of France. Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,
Not uttered by base sale of Chapmen's tongues."

And in "Troilus and Cressida," Act iv. sc. I:

"Paris. Fair Diomed, you do as Chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy."

Unlike his modern congener, the colporteur, the Chapman's life seems to
have been an exceptionally hard one, especially if we can trust a
description, professedly by one of the fraternity, in "The History of John
Cheap the Chapman," a Chap-book published early in the present century.
He appears, on his own confession, to have been as much of a rogue as he
well could be with impunity and without absolutely transgressing the law,
and, as his character was well known, very few roofs would shelter him,
and he had to sleep in barns, or even with the pigs. He had to take out a
licence, and was classed in old bye-laws and proclamations as "Hawkers,
Vendors, Pedlars, petty Chapmen, and unruly people." In more modern
times the literary Mercury dropped the somewhat besmirched title of
Chapmen, and was euphoniously designated the "Travelling," "Flying," or
"Running Stationer."

Little could he have dreamed that his little penny books would ever have
become scarce, and prized by book collectors, and fetch high prices
whenever the rare occasion happened that they were exposed for sale. I
have taken out the prices paid in 1845 and 1847 for nine volumes of them,
bought at as many different sales. These nine volumes contain ninety-nine
Chap-books, and the price paid for them all was £24 13s. 6d., or an average
of five shillings each—surely not a bad increment in a hundred years on the
outlay of a penny; but then, these volumes were bought very cheaply, as
some of their delighted purchasers record.

The principal factory for them, and from which certainly nine-tenths of
them emanated, was No. 4, Aldermary Churchyard, afterwards removed to
Bow Churchyard, close by. The names of the proprietors were William and
Cluer Dicey—afterwards C. Dicey only—and they seem to have come from
Northampton, as, in "Hippolito and Dorinda," 1720, the firm is described as
"Raikes and Dicey, Northampton;" and this connection was not allowed to
lapse, for we see, nearly half a century later, that "The Conquest of France"
was "printed and sold by C. Dicey in Bow Church Yard: sold also at his
Warehouse in Northampton."

From Dicey's house came nearly all the original Chap-books, and I have
appended as perfect a list as I can make, amounting to over 120, of their
publications. Unscrupulous booksellers, however, generally pirated them
very soon after issue, especially at Newcastle, where certainly the next
largest trade was done in this class of books. The Newcastle editions are
rougher in every way, in engravings, type, and paper, than the very well got
up little books of Dicey's, but I have frequently taken them in preference,
because of the superior quaintness of the engravings.

After the commencement of the present century reading became more
popular, and the following, which are only the names of a few places where
Chap-books were published, show the great and widely spread interest
taken in their production:—Edinburgh, Glasgow, Paisley, Kilmarnock,
Penrith, Stirling, Falkirk, Dublin, York, Stokesley, Warrington, Liverpool,
Banbury, Aylesbury, Durham, Dumfries, Birmingham, Wolverhampton,
Coventry, Whitehaven, Carlisle, Worcester, Cirencester, etc., etc. And they
flourished, for they formed nearly the sole literature of the poor, until the
Penny Magazine and Chambers's penny Tracts and Miscellanies gave them
their deathblow, and relegated them to the book-shelves of collectors.

That these histories were known and prized in Queen Anne's time, is
evidenced by the following quotation from the Weekly Comedy, January 22,
1708:—"I'll give him Ten of the largest Folio Books in my Study, Letter'd
on the Back, and bound in Calves Skin. He shall have some of those that are
the most scarce and rare among the Learned, and therefore may be of
greater use to so Voluminous an Author; there is 'Tom Thumb' with
Annotations and Critical Remarks, two volumes in folio. The 'Comical Life
and Tragical Death of the Old Woman that was Hang'd for Drowning
herself in Ratcliffe High-Way:' One large Volume, it being the 20th Edition,
with many new Additions and Observations. 'Jack and the Gyants;'
formerly Printed in a small Octavo, but now Improv'd to three Folio
Volumes by that Elaborate Editor, Forestus, Ignotus Nicholaus Ignoramus
Sampsonius; then there is 'The King and the Cobler,' a Noble piece of
Antiquity, and fill'd with many Pleasant Modern Intrigues fit to divert the
most Curious."

And Steele, writing in the Tatler, No. 95, as Isaac Bickerstaff, and speaking
of his godson, a little boy of eight years of age, says, "I found he had very
much turned his studies, for about twelve months past, into the lives and
adventures of Don Bellianis of Greece, Guy of Warwick, The Seven
Champions, and other historians of that age.... He would tell you the
mismanagements of John Hickerthrift, find fault with the passionate temper
in Bevis of Southampton and loved St. George for being Champion of
England."

As before said, their great variety adapted them for every purchaser, and
they may be roughly classed under the following heads:—Religious,
Diabolical, Supernatural, Superstitious, Romantic, Humorous, Legendary,
Historical, Biographical, and Criminal, besides those which cannot fairly be
put in any of the above categories; and under this classification and in this
sequence I have taken them. The Religious, strictly so called, are the fewest,
the subjects, such as "Dr. Faustus," etc., connected with his Satanic Majesty
being more exciting, and probably paying better; whilst the Supernatural,
such as "The Duke of Buckingham's Father's Ghost," "The Guildford
Ghost," etc., trading upon man's credulity and his love of the marvellous,
afford a far larger assortment. About the same amount of popularity may be
given to the Superstitious Chap-books—those relating to fortune telling and
the interpretation of Dreams and Moles, etc. But they were nothing like the
favourites those of the Romantic School were. These dear old romances,
handed down from the days when printing was not—some, like "Jack the
Giant Killer," of Norse extraction; others, like "Tom Hickathrift," "Guy of
Warwick," "Bevis of Hampton," etc., records of the doughty deeds of local
champions; and others, again, "Reynard the Fox," "Valentine and Orson,"
and "Fortunatus," of foreign birth—hit the popular taste, and many were the
editions of them. Naturally, however, the Humorous stories were the prime
favourites. The Jest-books, pure and simple, are, from their extremely
coarse witticisms, utterly incapable of being reproduced for general reading
nowadays, and the whole of them are more or less highly spiced; but even
here were shades of humour to suit all classes, from the solemn foolery of
the "Wise Men of Gotham," or the "World turned upside down," to the
rollicking fun of "Tom Tram," "The Fryer and the Boy," or "Jack Horner."
In reading these books we must not, however, look upon them from our
present point of view. Whether men and women are better now than they

used to be, is a moot point, but things used to be spoken of openly, which
are now never whispered, and no harm was done, nor offence taken; so the
broad humour of the jest-books was, after all, only exuberant fun, and many
of the bonnes histoires are extremely laughable, though to our own thinking
equally indelicate. The old legends still held sway, and I have given four
—"Adam Bell," "Robin Hood," "The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green," and
"The Children in the Wood"—all of them remarkable for their illustrations.
History has a wide range from "Fair Rosamond," to "The Royal Martyr,"
Charles I., whilst, naturally, such books as "Robinson Crusoe," "George
Barnwell," and a host of criminal literature found ready purchasers.

I have not included Calendars, and I have purposely avoided Garlands, or
Collections of ballads, which equally come under the category of Chap-
books. I should have liked to have noticed more of them, but the exigencies
of publishing have prevented it; still, those I have taken seem to me to be
the best fitted for the purpose I had in view, which was to give a fairly
representative list: and I hope I have succeeded in producing a book at once
both amusing and instructive, besides having rescued these almost forgotten
booklets from the limbo into which they were fast descending.

CONTENTS.
PAGE
The History of Joseph and his Brethren 1
The Holy Disciple 25
The Wandering Jew 28
The Gospel of Nicodemus 30
The Unhappy Birth, Wicked Life, and Miserable Death of that
Vile Traytor and Apostle Judas Iscariot 32
A Terrible and Seasonable Warning to Young Men 33
The Kentish Miracle 34
The Witch of the Woodlands 35
The History of Dr. John Faustus 38
The History of the Learned Friar Bacon 53
A Timely Warning to Rash and Disobedient Children 56
Bateman's Tragedy 57

The Miracle of Miracles 60
A Wonderful and Strange Relation of a Sailor 61
The Children's Example 62
A New Prophesy 64
God's Just Judgment on Blasphemers 65
A Dreadful Warning to all Wicked and Forsworn Sinners 66
A Full and True Relation of one Mr. Rich Langly, a Glazier 67
A Full, True and Particular Account of the Ghost or Apparition
of the Late Duke of Buckingham's Father 68
The Portsmouth Ghost 70
The Guilford Ghost 72
The Wonder of Wonders 74
Dreams and Moles 78
The Old Egyptian Fortune-Teller's Last Legacy 79
A New Fortune Book 83
The History of Mother Bunch of the West 84
The History of Mother Shipton 88
Nixon's Cheshire Prophecy 92
Reynard the Fox 95
Valentine and Orson 109
Fortunatus 124
Guy, Earl of Warwick 138
The History of the Life and Death of that Noble Knight
Sir Bevis of Southampton 156
The Life and Death of St. George 163
Patient Grissel 171
The Pleasant and Delightful History of Jack and the Giants 184
A Pleasant and Delightful History of Thomas Hickathrift 192
Tom Thumb 206
The Shoemaker's Glory 222
The Famous History of the Valiant London Prentice 227
The Lover's Quarrel 230
The History of the King and the Cobler 233
The Friar and Boy 237
The Pleasant History of Jack Horner 245
The Mad Pranks of Tom Tram 248
The Birth, Life, and Death of John Franks 253
Simple Simon's Misfortunes 258
The History of Tom Long the Carrier 263
The World turned Upside Down 265

A Strange and Wonderful Relation of the Old Woman who was
Drowned at Ratcliffe Highway 273
The Wise Men of Gotham 275
Joe Miller's Jests 288
A Whetstone for Dull Wits 295
The True Trial of Understanding 304
The Whole Trial and Indictment of Sir John Barleycorn, Knt. 314
Long Meg of Westminster 323
Merry Frolicks 337
The Life and Death of Sheffery Morgan 341
The Welch Traveller 344
Joaks upon Joaks 349
The History of Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of
Cloudeslie 353
A True Tale of Robin Hood 356
The History of the Blind Begger of Bednal Green 360
The History of the Two Children in the Wood 369
The History of Sir Richard Whittington 376
The History of Wat Tyler and Jack Straw 382
The History of Jack of Newbury 384
The Life and Death of Fair Rosamond 387
The Story of King Edward III. and the Countess of Salisbury 390
The Conquest of France 392
The History of Jane Shore 393
The History of the Most Renowned Queen Elizabeth and her Great
Favourite the Earl of Essex 396
The History of the Royal Martyr 398
England's Black Tribunal 403
The Foreign Travels of Sir John Mandeville 405
The Surprizing Life and Most Strange Adventures of Robinson Crusoe 417
A Brief Relation of the Adventures of M. Bamfyeld Moore Carew 423
The Fortunes and Misfortunes of Moll Flanders 427
Youth's Warning-piece 429
The Merry Life and Mad Exploits of Capt. James Hind 433
The History of John Gregg 437
The Bloody Tragedy 439
The Unfortunate Family 440
The Horrors of Jealousie 441
The Constant, but Unhappy Lovers 442
A Looking Glass for Swearers, etc. 443
Farther, and More Terrible Warnings from God 444

The Constant Couple 446
The Distressed Child in the Wood 447
The Lawyer's Doom 448
The Whole Life and Adventures of Miss Davis 449
The Life and Death of Christian Bowman 453
The Drunkard's Legacy 455
Good News for England 458
A Dialogue between a Blind Man and Death 459
The Devil upon Two Sticks 461
Æsop's Fables 463
A Choice Collection of Cookery Receipts 472
The Pleasant History of Taffy's Progress to London 475
The Whole Life, Character, and Conversation of that Foolish
Creature called Granny 478
A York Dialogue between Ned and Harry 479
The French King's Wedding 481
Appendix 483

CHAP-BOOKS

OF

THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

THE HISTORY OF

JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN.

The first printed metrical history of this Biblical episode is the book printed
by Wynkyn de Worde, a book of fourteen leaves, and entitled "Thystorie of
Jacob and his twelue Sones. Empȳrted at Lōdon in Fletestrete at the sygne
of the Sonne by Wynkyn de Worde" (no date). It is chiefly remarkable in
connection with this book, as mentioning Chapmen.

"Now leaue we of them & speak we of the Chapman
That passed ouer the sea into Egipt land.
But truely ere that he thether came
The wind stiffly against them did stand;
And yet at the last an hauen they fand.

The Chapman led Joseph with a rope in the streat
Him for to bye came many a Lord great."

A metrical edition is still used in the performance of a sort of miracle play,
entitled "Joseph and his Brothers. A Biblical Drama or Mystery Play." 1864.
London and Derby.

The action of this piece is reported to be somewhat ludicrous, the
performers being in their everyday dress, or, rather, in their Sunday attire.
There is no scenery, and very little life or motion in connection with the
dialogue, the quality of which may be judged by the following specimen:—

"(Joseph, weeping, offers Benjamin his goblet.)

Here, my son,
Drink from my Cup; the sentiment shall be
'Health and long life to your aged father.'
(Benjamin drinks.)
Now sing me one of your Hebrew Songs
To any National Air; for we in Egypt
Know little of the music of Chanaan.

Benjamin. If such be your wish, I'll sing the song
I often sing to soothe my father's breast
When he is sad with memory of the past.

(He sings.) Air, 'Phillis is my only joy,' etc.:—

Joseph was my favourite boy,
Rachel's firstborn Son and pride:
His father's hope, his father's joy,
Begotten in life's eventide," etc.

THE HISTORY

OF

Joseph and his
Brethren,

WITH

Jacob's Journey into Egypt,

AND

HIS DEATH AND FUNERAL.

Illustrated with Twelve Cuts.

JOSEPH BROUGHT BEFORE PHAROAH.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard,
Bow Lane, London.

THE HISTORY OF
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN.

JACOB'S LOVE TO JOSEPH, WITH JOSEPH'S
FIRST
DREAM.

In Canaan's fruitful land there liv'd of late,
Old Isaac's heir blest with a vast estate;
Near Hebron Jacob sourjourned all alone,
A stranger in the land that was his own:
Dear to his God, for humbly he ador'd him,
As Isaac did, and Abraham before him.
And as he was of worldly wealth possest,
So with twelve sons the good old man was blest,
Amongst all whom none his affections won,
So much as Joseph, Rachel's first-born son,
He in his bosom lay, still next his heart,
And with his Joseph would by no means part:
He was the lad on whom he most did doat,
And gave to him a many colour'd coat.
This made his bretheren at young Joseph grudge,
And thought their father loved him too much.
At Jacob's love their hatred did encrease,
That they could hardly speak to him in peace.
But Joseph, (in whose heart the filial fear
Of his Creator early did appear)

Not being conscious to himself at all,
He had done ought to move his brethren's gall,
Did unto them a dream of his relate,
Which (tho' it did increase his bretheren's hate, }
Did plainly shew forth Joseph's future state
This is the dream, said Joseph, I did see:
The Corn was reap'd, and binding sheaves are we,
When my sheaf only was on a sudden found,
Both to arise and stand upon the ground.
Then yours arose, which round about were laid,
And unto mine a low obeisance made, }
Is this your dream, his brethren said?
Can your ambitious thoughts become so vain,
To think that you shall o'er your brethren reign?
Or that we unto you shall tribute pay,
And at your feet our servile necks should lay?
Believe us brother, this youll never see,
But your aspiring will your ruin be.

Thus Joseph's bretheren talk'd, and if before
They hated him, they did it now much more;
The father lov'd him, and the lad they thought,
Took more upon him, than indeed he ought.

But they who judge a matter e'er the time,
Are oftentimes involved in a crime:
'Tis therefore best for us to wait and see
What the issue of mysterious things will be;
For those that judge by meer imagination,
Will find things contrary to their expectation.

JOSEPH'S SECOND DREAM.

How bold is innocence! how fix'd it grows!
It fears no seeming friends nor real foes.
'Tis conscious of no guilt, nor base designs,
And therefore forms no plots nor countermines:
But in the paths of virtue walks on still,
And as it does none, so it fears no ill.
Just so it was with Joseph: lately he
Had dream'd a dream, and was so very free,
He to his bretheren did the dream reveal,
At which their hatred scarce they could conceal.
But Joseph not intending any ill,

Dream'd on again, and told his bretheren still.
Methought as on my slumb'ring bed I lay,
I saw a glorious light more bright than day:
The sun and moon, those glorious lamps of heaven,
With glittering stars in number seven,
Came all to me, on purpose to adore me,
And every one of them bow'd down before me:
And each one when they had thus obedience made,
Withdrew, nor for each other longer staid.
When Joseph thus his last dream had related,
Then he was by his bretheren much more hated.
This dream young Joseph to his father told,
Who when he heard it, thinking him too bold,
Rebuk'd him thus: What dream is this I hear?
You are infatuated, child I fear,
Must I, your mother, and your bretheren too,
Become your slaves and bow down to you.
Thus Jacob chid him, for at present he,
Saw not so far into futurity:
Yet he did wonder how things might succeed,
And what for Joseph providence decreed,
For well he thought those dreams wa'nt sent in vain
Yet knew not how he should these dreams explain.
For those things oft are hid from human eyes,
Which are by him that rules above the skies
Firmly decreed; which when they come to know,
The beauty of the work will plainly shew,
And all those bretheren which now Joseph hate,
Shall then bow down to his superior fate:
Old Jacob therefore, just to make a shew,
As if he was displeased with Joseph too,
Thus seem'd to chide young Joseph, but indeed
To his strange dreams he gave no little heed;
Tho' how to interpret them he could not tell,
Yet in the meanwhile he observ'd them well.
How great's the difference 'twixt a father's love,
And brethren's hatred may be seen above.

They hate their brother for his dreams, but he,
Observes his words, and willing is to see }
What the event in future times may be.

JOSEPH PUT INTO A PIT BY HIS
BRETHEREN.

When envy in the heart of man does reign,
To stifle its effects proves oft in vain.
Like fire conceal'd, which none at first did know,
It soon breaks out and breeds a world of woe:
Young Joseph this by sad experience knew,
And his brethren's envy made him find it true:
For they, as in the sequel we shall see,
Resolv'd upon poor Joseph's tragedy;
That they together at his dream might mock,
Which they almost effected, when their flock
In Sechem's fruitful field they fed, for there
Was Joseph sent to see how they did fare:
Joseph his father readily obeys,
And on the pleasing message goes his ways.

Far off they know, and Joseph's coming note,
For he had on his many colour'd coat;
Which did their causeless anger set on fire,
And they against Joseph presently conspire:
Lo yonder doth the dreamer come they cry,
Now lets agree and act this tragedy.
And when we've slain him in some digged pit
Let's throw his carcase, and then cover it,
And if our father ask for him, we'll say,
We fear he's kill'd by some wild beast of prey.
This Reuben heard, who was to save him bent,
And therefore said, (their purpose to prevent,) }
To shed his blood I'll ne'er give my consent;
But into some deep pit him let us throw,
And what we've done there's none will know.
This Reuben said his life for to defend,
Till he could home unto his father send.
To Reuben's proposition they agree,
And what came of it we shall quickly see.
Joseph by this time to his brethren got,
And now affliction was to be his lot;
They told him all his dreams would prove a lye,

For in a pit he now should starve and die.
Joseph for his life did now entreat and pray,
But to his tears and prayers they answered Nay, }
And from him first his coat they took away.
Then into an empty pit they did him throw,
And there left Joseph almost drown'd in woe, }
While they to eating and to drinking go.
See here the vile effects of causeless rage,
In what black crimes does it oftimes engage.
Nearest relations! setting bretheren on
To work their brother's dire destruction.
But now poor Joseph in the pit doth lie,
'Twill be his bretheren's turn to weep and cry.

JOSEPH SOLD INTO EGYPT.

As Joseph in the Pit condemn'd to die,
So did his grandfather on the altar lie,
The wood was laid, a sacrificing knife,
Was lifted up to take poor Isaac's life.

But heaven that ne'er design'd the lad should die,
Stopt the bold hand, and shew'd a lamb just by,
Thus in like manner did the all-wise decree,
His brethrens plots should disappointed be:
For while within the Pit poor Joseph lay,
And they set down to eat and drink and play, }
And with rejoicing revel out the day:
Some Ishmaelitish merchants strait drew near,
Who to the land of Egypt journeying were, }
To sell some balm and myrrh, and spices there.
This had on Judah no impressions made,
And therefore to his bretheren thus he said,
Come Sirs, to kill young Joseph is not good,
What profit will it be to spill his blood?
How are we sure his death we shall conceal?
The birds of air this murder will reveal.
Come let's to Egypt sell him for a slave,
And we for him some money sure may have;
So from his blood our hands shall be clear,
And we for him have no cause for fear.
To this advice they presently agreed,
And Joseph from the Pit was drawn with speed:
For twenty pieces they their brother sell
To the Ishmaelites, and thought their bargain well.
And thus they to their brother bid adieu,
For he was quickly carried out of view.
Reuben this time was absent, and not told
That Joseph was took out of the pit and sold,
He therefore to the pit return'd, that he
Might sit his father's Joy at liberty.
But when, alas! he found he was not there,
He was so overcome with black despair, }
To rend his garments he could not forbear;
Then going to his bretheren thus said he,
Poor Joseph's out, and whither shall I flee?
But they, not so concern'd, still kill'd a goat,
And in its blood they dipt poor Joseph's coat,

And that they all suspicion might prevent,
It by a stranger to their father sent,
Saying, We've found, and brought this coat to know
Whether 'tis thy son Joseph's coat or no.
This brought sad floods of tears from Jacob's eyes,
Ah! 'tis my son's, my Joseph's coat he cries:
Ah! woe is me, thus wretched and forlorn,
For my poor Joseph is in pieces torn:
His sons and daughters comfort him in vain,
He can't but mourn while he thinks Joseph slain, }
And yet those sons won't fetch him back again.

JOSEPH AND HIS MISTRESS.

How much for Joseph's loss old Jacob griev'd,
It was not now his time to be reliev'd:
And therefore let's to Egypt turn our thought,
Where we shall find young Joseph sold and bought,
By Potiphar a Captain of the Guard;

Sudden the change, but yet I can't say hard;
For Joseph mercy in this change did spy,
And thought it better than i' th' pit to lie;
And well might Joseph be therewith content,
For God was with him where so 'er he went;
And tho' he did him with afflictions try,
He gave him favour in his master's eye,
For he each work he undertook did bless,
And crown'd his blessing with a good success.
So that his master then him steward made,
And Joseph's orders were by all obey'd:
In which such diligence and care he took,
His master needed after nothing look.
But his estate poor Joseph long can't hold,
His Mistress love so hot, made his master's cold,
For Joseph was so comely, young and wise,
His mistress on him cast her lustful eyes;
Joseph perceiv'd it, yet no notice took,
Nor scarcely on her did he dare to look.
This vex't her so, she could no more forbear,
But unto Joseph did the same declare;
Joseph with grief the unwelcome tidings heard,
But he his course by heavens directions steer'd.
And therefore to his mistress thus did say,
O mistress I must herein disobey;
My master has committed all to me,
That is within his house, save only thee:
And if I such a wickedness should do,
I should offend my God and master too;
And justly should I forfeit my own life,
To wrong my master's bed, debauch his wife.
But tho' he thus had given her denial,
She was resolv'd to make a further trial,
She saw he minded not whate'er she said,
And therefore now another plot she laid.
Joseph one day some business had to do,
When none was in the house beside them two,

When casting off all shame, and growing bold,
Of Joseph's upper garment she takes hold;
Now Joseph you shall lie with me, said she,
For there is none in the house but you and me;
But while she held his cloak to make him stay,
He left it with her, and made haste away;
On this her lust to anger turns, and she,
Cries out help! help! Joseph will ravish me,
Whose raging lust I hardly could withstand!
But fled, and left his garment in my hand.

JOSEPH CAST INTO THE DUNGEON.

Poor Joseph's innocence was no defence,
Against this brazen strumpet's impudence,
She first accus'd, and that she might prevail,
She to her husband thus then told her tale.
Hast thou this servant hither brought that he
Might make a mock upon my chastity?

What tho' he's one come from the Hebrew Stock,
Shall he thus at my virtue make a mock?
For if I once should yield to throw't away
On such a wretch.—O think what you would say? }
And yet he sought to do't this very day.
But when he did this steady virtue find,
Then fled, and left his garment here behind.
No wonder if this story so well told
Stirr'd up his wrath, and made his love turn cold;
He strait believ'd all that his wife had said,
And Joseph was unheard in prison laid.
Joseph must now again live underground,
And in a dungeon have his virtue crown'd,
But tho' in prison cast and bound in chains,
His God is with him, and his friend remains;
So here he with the gaoler favour finds,
That whatsoe'er he does he never minds:
The Gaoler knew his God was with him still,
And therefore lets him do whate'er he will.
King Pharoah's butler and his baker too
Under their Princes great displeasure grew
And therefore both of them were put in ward,
As prisoners to the captain of the guard
Where Joseph lay; to whom they did declare,
Their case, he serving them whilst they were there.
One night, a several dream to each befel,
But what it signify'd they could not tell.
Joseph perceiving they were very sad,
Demanded both the Dreams that they had had,
On which they each their dream to Joseph told,
Who strait the meaning of it did unfold.
The butler in three days restor'd shall be,
The baker should be hang'd upon a tree, }
But when this comes to pass remember me,
Said he to the Butler, for here I am thrown,
And charg'd with crimes that are to me unknown,
In three days time (such was their different case)

The Baker hang'd, the Butler gains his place;
And he again held Pharoh's cup in his hand,
And stood before him as he us'd to stand.
And yet for all that he to Joseph said,
Joseph in prison two years longer staid,
In all which time he ne'er of Joseph thought,
Tho' he his help so earnestly besought.
So in affliction promises we make,
But when that's o'er forget whate'er we speak.

JOSEPH'S ADVANCEMENT.

More than two years Joseph in prison lay,
Yet had no prospect of the happy day
Of his release; nor any means could see,
By which he could be set at liberty;
But God who sent him thither to be try'd,
In his due time his mercy magnify'd.
For as King Pharaoh lay upon his bed,
He had strange things which troubled his head,

He saw seven well fed kine rise out of Neal,
And seven lean ones eat them in a meal.
Again he saw seven ears of corn that stood
Upon one stalk, and were both rank and good:
Yet these were eaten up as the kine before,
By seven ears very lean and poor.
What this imported Pharoah fain would know,
But none there were that could the meaning show.
This to the Butler's mind poor Joseph brought,
Who till this day of him had never thought.
Great Prince! I call to mind my faults this day,
And well remember when in gaol I lay,
I and the Baker each our dreams did tell,
Which a young Hebrew slave expounded well:
I was advanc'd and executed he,
Both which the Hebrew servant said should be.
Go, said the King, and bring him hither strait,
I for his coming with impatience wait.
Joseph was put in hastily no doubt,
And now more hastily was he brought out.
His prison garment now aside was laid,
And being shav'd was with new cloaths array'd;
To Pharaoh being brought, canst thou, said he,
The dream I've dream'd expound me?
'Tis not me, great Sir, Joseph reply'd,
To say that I could do't were too much pride,
And so 'twould be for any that doth live,
But God to Pharaoh will an answer give.
Then Pharaoh did at large his dreams relate,
And Joseph shew'd him Egypt's future fate.
Seven years of plenty should to Egypt come,
In which they scarce could get their harvests in.
Which by seven years of dearth eat up should be;
As were the fair kine by the lean he see.
For Famine Sir, said he, provide therefore,
And in the years of Plenty lay up store.
What Joseph said, seem'd good in Pharoh's eyes,

Who did esteem him of all men most wise:
Since God, said Pharoah has shewn this to thee,
Thou shalt thro' all the land be next to me.
Then made him second in his chariot ride,
And bow the knee before him all men cry'd.

JOSEPH'S BRETHEREN COME INTO EGYPT
TO BUY CORN.

Now Joseph's Lord of Egypt, all things there
Are by the King committed to his care:
The plenteous years come on as Joseph told,
The earth produces more than barns can hold:
New store-houses were in each city made,
Where all the corn about it up was laid,
Till he had gotten such a numerous store,
That it was vain to count it any more.

But famine does to plenty next succeed,

And in all lands but Egypt there was need;
For they neglecting to lay up such store,
Had spent their Stock, and soon became so poor,
That in the land of Egypt there was bread,
By fame's loud trump, thro' every land was spread.
Old Jacob heard it, and to his sons thus said.
Why look you thus, as if you was afraid?
There's Corn in Egypt, therefore go and try,
That we may eat and live, not starve and die.
Joseph's ten bretheren straitway thither went,
Their corn in Canaan being almost spent.
This Joseph knew, for him they came before,
As being Lord of all the Egyptian store;
And as they came to him did each one bow,
But little thought he'd been the Dreamer now.
From whence came you? said Joseph as they stood,
My Lord say they from Canaan to buy food.
I don't believe it, said Joseph very high,
I rather think you came the land to spy,
That you abroad its nakedness may tell,
Come, come, I know your purpose very well;
Let not, say they, my Lord, his servants blame,
For only to buy food thy servants came.
Said Joseph sternly, Tell me not those lies,
For by the life of Pharaoh ye are spies.
We are twelve bretheren, sir, they then reply'd,
Sons of one man, of whom one long since dy'd:
And with our father we the youngest left,
So that he might not be of him bereft.
Hereby said Joseph 'twill be prov'd I trow,
Whether what I have said be true or now.
Your younger brother fetch, make no replies,
For if you don't, by Pharoah's life ye are spies.
On this they unto prison all were brought,
Where how they us'd their brother oft they thought.
When they in prison three days time had staid,
He sent for them and this proposal made,

They to their father should the corn convey,
And Simeon should with him a prisoner stay;
Until they brought their youngest brother there,
Which should to him their innocence declare.
This they agreed to, and were sent away,
Whilst Simeon did behind in prison stay.

BENJAMIN BROUGHT TO JOSEPH.

Old Jacob's sons came back to him, report,
How they were us'd at the Egyptian court:
Taken for spies, and Simeon left behind,
Till Benjamin shall make the man more kind.
This news old Jacob griev'd unto the heart,
Who by no means with Benjamin would part;
But when the want of corn did pinch them sore,
And they were urg'd to go again for more;
They told their father they were fully bent,
To go no more except their brother went.
Then take your brother and arise and go,
Said good old Jacob, and the man will show
You favour, that you may all safe return,
And I no more my children's loss may mourn.

Then taking money and rich presents too,
To Joseph they their younger brother shew.
Then he his steward straitway did enjoin
To bring those men to his house with him to dine.
When Joseph came, he kindly to them spake,
When they to him did low obeysance make,
He ask'd their welfare, and desir'd to tell
Whether their father was alive and well.
They answer'd Yea, he did in health remain,
And to the ground bow'd down their heads again.
Then Benjamin he by the hand did take,
And said, Is this the youth of whom ye spake,
Then God be gracious unto thee my son,
To whom he said; which when as soon as done,
Into his chamber strait he went to weep,
For he his countenance could hardly keep.
Then coming out, and sitting down to meet,
He made his bretheren all sit down to eat:
He sent to each a mess of what was best,
But Benjamin's was larger than the rest.
Then what he further did design to do,
He call'd his servant, and to him did shew;

Put in each sack as much corn as they'll hold,
And in the mouth of each return his gold,
And see that you take my silver cup,
And in the sack of the youngest put it up.
The steward fill'd the sack as he was bid,
And in the mouth of each their money hid.
Then on the morrow morning merry hearted
With this their good success they all departed;
But Joseph's steward quickly spoil'd their laughter,
Who by his master's orders strait went after,
And to the eleven brethren thus he spake,
Is this the return you to my master make?
Could you not be contented with the wine,
But steal the Cup in which he does divine?
This is unkind. And therefore I must say
You've acted very foolishly to day.

JOSEPH MAKES HIMSELF KNOWN TO HIS
BRETHEREN.

The steward's words put them into a fright,
They wonder'd at his speech, as well they might
Why does my Lord this charge against us bring;
For God forbid we e'er should do this thing:
The money that within our sacks we found,
We brought from Canaan; then what ground
Have you to think, or to suppose that we
Of such a crime as this should guilty be.
With whatsoever man this cup is found,
Both let him die, and we'll be also bound
As slaves unto my Lord. Let it so be,
Reply'd the steward, we shall quickly see
Whether it is so or not; then down they took*
And when the steward he had search'd them round,
Within the sack of Benjamin the cup was found.
To Joseph therefore they straitway repair,
To whom he said as soon as they came there,
How durst you take this silver cup of mine
Did you not think that I could well divine?
To whom Judah said, My Lord we've nought to say
But at your feet as slaves ourselves we lay.

No, no, said Joseph, there's for that no ground,
He is my slave with whom the cup is found.
Then Judah unto Joseph drew more near,
And said, O let my Lord and Master hear:
If we without the lad should back return,
Our father would for ever grieve and mourn,
And his grey hairs with sorrows we should bring
Unto the grave, if we should do this thing;
For when your servants father would at home
Have kept the lad, I begg'd that he might come,
And said, If I return him not to thee,
Then let the blame for ever lay on me.
Now therefore let him back return again,
And in his stead thy servant will remain,
And how shall I that piercing sight endure,
Which will I know my father's death procure.
This speech of Judah touch'd good Joseph so,
That he bid all his servants out to go.
He and his brethren being all alone,
He unto them himself did thus make known.
I am Joseph:—Is my father alive?
But to return an answer none did strive;
For at his presence they were troubled all,
Which made him thus unto his brethren call,
I am your brother Joseph, him whom ye
To Egypt sold; but do not troubled be; }
For what you did heaven did before decree.
Then he his brother Benjamin did kiss,
Wept on his neck, and so did he on his,
Then kist his bretheren, wept on them likewise,
So that among them there were no dry eyes.

* Here seems a line missing.

JOSEPH SENDS FOR HIS FATHER WHO
COMES TO EGYPT.

Then Joseph to his bretheren thus did say,
Unto my father pray make haste away, }
Take food and waggons here, and do not stay,
They went, and Jacob's spirits did revive,
To hear his dearest Joseph was alive,
It is enough, then did old Jacob cry,
I'll go and see my Joseph e'er I die;
And he had reason for resolving so,
For God appear'd to him and bid him go.
Then into Egypt Jacob went with speed,
Both he, his wives, his sons, and all their seed.
And being for the land of Goshen bent,
Joseph himself before him did present.
Great was their Joy they on that meeting shew'd,
And each the others cheeks with tears bedew'd.
Then Joseph did his aged father bring
Into the royal presence of the King,

Whom Jacob blest, and Pharaoh lik'd him well,
And bid him in the land of Goshen dwell.

JACOB'S DEATH AND BURIAL.

Jacob now having finished his last stage,
And come to the end of earthly pilgrimage.
Was visited by his son Joseph, who
Brought with him Ephraim and Manassah too.
When Jacob saw them, who are these said he?
The sons said Joseph, God has given me
Then Jacob blest them both, and his sons did call,
To shew to each what should to them befal.
Then giving orders unto Joseph where
He would be buried, left to him that care;
Then yielded up the ghost upon his bed
And to his people he was gathered.
Then Joseph for his burial did provide,
And with a numerous retinue did ride,

Of his own children and Egyptians too,
That their respect to Joseph might shew,
And with a mighty mourning did inter
Old Jacob in his fathers sepulchre.

FINIS.

T H E H O LY D I S C I P L E ;
OR, THE

History of Joseph of Arimathea.
Wherein is contained a true Account of his Birth; his Parents;
his Country; his Education; his Piety; and his begging of
Pontius Pilate the Body of our blessed Saviour, after his
Crucifixion, which he buried in a new Sepulchre of his own.
Also the Occasion of his coming to England, where he first
preached the Gospel at Glastenbury, in Somersetshire, where
is still growing that noted White Thorn which buds every
Christmas day in the morning, blossoms at Noon, and fades at
Night, on the Place where he pitched his Staff in the Ground.
With a full Relation of his Death and Burial.
TO WHICH IS ADED,

Meditations on the Birth, Life, Death, and
Resurrection of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ.

Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.

THE HOLY DISCIPLE;
OR, THE

HISTORY OF JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA.

The text of this book is simply an amplification of the title-page, which is
sufficient for its purpose in this work. The legend of his planting his staff,
which produced the famous Glastonbury Thorn, is very popular and
widespread. The writer remembers in the winter of 1879, when living in
Herefordshire, on Old Christmas Day (Twelfth Day), people coming from
some distance to see one of these trees blossom at noon. Unfortunately they
were disappointed. Loudon, in his "Arboretum Britannicum," v. 2, p. 833,
says, "Cratægus præcox, the early flowering, or Glastonbury, Thorn, comes
into leaf in January or February, and sometimes even in autumn; so that
occasionally, in mild seasons, it may be in flower on Christmas Day.
According to Withering, writing about fifty years ago, this tree does not
grow within the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, but stands in a lane beyond the
churchyard, and appears to be a very old tree. An old woman of ninety
never remembered it otherwise than it now appears. This tree is probably
now dead; but one said to be a descendant of the tree which, according to
the Romish legend, formed the staff of Joseph of Arimathea, is still existing
within the precincts of the ancient abbey of Glastonbury. It is not of great
age, and may probably have sprung from the root of the original tree, or
from a truncheon of it; but it maintains the habit of flowering in the winter,
which the legend attributes to its supposed parent. A correspondent (Mr.
Callow) sent us on December 1, 1833, a specimen, gathered on that day,
from the tree at Glastonbury, in full blossom, having on it also ripe fruit;
observing that the tree blossoms again in the month of May following, and
that it is from these later flowers that the fruit is produced. Mr. Baxter,
curator of the Botanic Garden at Oxford, also sent us a specimen of the

Glastonbury Thorn, gathered in that garden on Christmas Day, 1834, with
fully expanded flowers and ripe fruit on the same branch. Seeds of this
variety are said to produce only the common hawthorn; but we have no
doubt that among a number of seedlings there would, as in similar cases, be
found several plants having a tendency to the same habits as the parent.
With regard to the legend, there is nothing miraculous in the circumstances
of a staff, supposing it to have been of hawthorn, having, when stuck in the
ground, taken root and become a tree; as it is well known that the hawthorn
grows from stakes and truncheons. The miracle of Joseph of Arimathea is
nothing compared with that of Mr. John Wallis, timber surveyor of Chelsea,
author of 'Dendrology,' who exhibited to the Horticultural and Linnæan
Societies, in 1834, a branch of hawthorn, which, he said, had hung for
several years in a hedge among other trees; and, though without any root, or
even touching the earth, had produced, every year, leaves, flowers, and
fruit!"

Of St. Joseph himself, Alban Butler gives a very meagre account, not even
mentioning his death or place of burial; so that, outside Glastonbury, we
may infer he had small reputation. We must not, however, forget that he is
supposed to have brought the Holy Grail into England.

Wynkyn de Worde printed a book called "The Life of Joseph of Armathy,"
and Pynson printed two—one "De Sancto Joseph ab Arimathia," 1516, and
"The Lyfe of Joseph of Arimathia," 1520.

THE

WANDERING JEW;
OR, THE

SHOEMAKER OF JERUSALEM.

Who lived when our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ was Crucified,

And by Him Appointed to Wander until He comes again.

With his Travels, Method of Living, and a
Discourse with some Clergymen about
the End of the World.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church-Yard, Bow Lane, London.

THE WANDERING JEW.
This version is but a catchpenny, and principally consists of a fanciful
dialogue between the Wandering Jew and a clergyman. This famous myth
seems to have had its origin in the Gospel of St. John (xxi. 22), which,
although it does not refer to him, evidently was the source of the idea of his
tarrying on earth until the second coming of our Saviour. The legend is
common to several countries in Europe, and we, in these latter days, are
familiar with it in Dr. Croly's "Salathiel," "St. Leon," "Le Juif Errant," and
"The Undying One." It is certain it was in existence before the thirteenth
century, for it is given in Roger of Wendover, 1228, as being known; for an
Armenian archbishop, who was then in England, declared that he knew
him. His name is generally received as Cartaphilus, but he was known, in
different countries and ages, also as Ahasuerus, Josephus, and Isaac
Lakedion. The usual legend is that he was Pontius Pilate's porter, and when
they were dragging Jesus out of the door of the judgment-hall, he struck
him on the back with his fist, saying, "Go faster, Jesus, go faster: why dost
thou linger?" Upon which Jesus looked at him with a frown, and said, "I,
indeed, am going; but thou shalt tarry till I come." He was afterwards
converted and baptized by the name of Joseph. He is believed every
hundred years to have an illness, ending in a trance, from which he awakes
restored to the age he was at our Saviour's Crucifixion. Many impostors in
various countries have personated him.

THE

GOSPEL OF
NICODEMUS.
In thirteen Chapters.

1. Jesus Accused of the Jews before Pilate.
2. Some of them spake for him.
3. Pilate takes Counsel of Ancient Lawyers, etc.
4. Nicodemus speaks to Pilate for Jesus.
5. Certain Jews shew Pilate the Miracles which Christ
had done to some of them.
6. Pilate commands that no villains should put him to
his Passion, but only Knights.
7. Centurio tells Pilate of the Wonders that were done
at Christ's Passion; and of the fine Cloth of
Syndonia.
8. The Jews conspire against Nicodemus and Joseph.
9. One of the Knights that kept the Sepulchre of our
Lord, came and told the Master of the Law, that
our Lord was gone into Gallilee.
10. Three men who came from Gallilee to Jerusalem
say they saw Jesus alive.
11. The Jews chuse eight men who were Joseph's
friends, to desire him to come to them.

12. Joseph tells of divers dead Men risen, especially of
Simon's two sons, Garius and Levicius.
13. Nicodemus and Joseph tell Pilate all that those two
Men had said; and how Pilate treated with the
Princes of the Law.

Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.

This is a translation by John Warren, priest, of this apocryphal Gospel, of
which the frontispiece is a summary, and varies very little from that given
by Hone, who, in his prefatory notice says, "Although this Gospel is, by
some among the learned, supposed to have been really written by
Nicodemus, who became a disciple of Jesus Christ, and conversed with
him; others conjecture it was a forgery towards the close of the third
century, by some zealous believer, who, observing that there had been
appeals made by the Christians of the former Age, to the Acts of Pilate, but
that such Acts could not be produced, imagined it would be of service to
Christianity to fabricate and publish this Gospel; as it would both confirm
the Christians under persecution, and convince the Heathens of the truth of
the Christian religion.... Whether it be canonical or not, it is of very great
antiquity, and is appealed to by several of the ancient Christians."

Wynkyn de Worde published several editions of it—in 1509, 1511, 1512,
1518, 1532—and his headings of the chapters differ very slightly from
those already given.

The unhappy Birth, wicked Life, and miserable
Death of that vile Traytor and Apostle

JUDAS ISCARIOT,

Who, for Thirty Pieces of Silver betrayed his Lord and
Master

JESUS CHRIST.
SHEWING

1. His Mother's Dream after Conception, the Manner of
his Birth; and the evident Marks of his future
shame.
2. How his Parents, inclosing him in a little chest,
threw him into the Sea, where he was found by a
King on the Coast of Iscariot, who called him by
that Name.
3. His advancement to be the King's Privy Counsellor;
and how he unfortunately killed the King's Son.
4. He flies to Joppa; and unknowingly, slew his own
Father, for which he was obliged to abscond a
Second Time.

5. Returning a Year after, he married his own Mother,
who knew him to be her own Child, by the
particular marks he had, and by his own
Declaration.
6. And lastly, seeming to repent of his wicked Life, he
followed our Blessed Saviour, and became one of
his Apostles; But after betrayed him into the
Hands of the Chief Priests for Thirty Pieces of
Silver, and then miserably hanged himself, whose
Bowels dropt out of his Belly.
TO WHICH IS ADDED,

A Short RELATION of the Sufferings of Our
BLESSED REDEEMER,
Also the Life and miserable Death of
PONTIUS PILATE,
Who condemn'd the Lord of Life to Death.

Being collected from the Writings of Josephus Sozomenus,
and other Ecclesiastical Historians.

Durham: Printed and Sold by Isaac Lane.

A Terrible and seasonable Warning
to young Men.
Being a very particular and True Relation of one Abraham Joiner a young
Man about 17 or 18 Years of Age, living in Shakesby's Walks in Shadwell,
being a Ballast Man by Profession, who on Saturday Night last pick'd up a
leud Woman, and spent what Money he had about him in Treating her,
saying afterwards, if she wou'd have any more he must go to the Devil for
it, and slipping out of her Company, he went to the Cock and Lyon in King
Street, the Devil appear'd to him, and gave him a Pistole, telling him he
shou'd never want for Money, appointing to meet him the next Night at the
World's End at Stepney; Also how his Brother perswaded him to throw the
Money away, which he did; but was suddenly taken in a very strange
manner; so that they were fain to send for the Reverend Mr. Constable and
other Ministers to pray with him; he appearing now to be very Penitent;
with an Account of the Prayers and Expressions he makes use of under his
Affliction, and the prayers that were made for him to free him from this
violent Temptation.

The Truth of which is sufficiently attested in the Neighbourhood, he lying
now at his mother's house, etc.

London: Printed for J. Dutton, near Fleet Street.

THE

KENTISH MIRACLE

Or, a Seasonable Warning to all
Sinners
SHEWN IN

The Wonderful Relation of one Mary Moore, whose Husband died some
time ago, and left her with two Children, who was reduced to great Want;
How she wandered about the Country asking Relief, and went two Days
without any food. How the Devil appeared to her, and the many great Offers
he made to her to deny Christ, and enter into his Service; and how she
confounded Satan by powerful Arguments. How she came to a Well of
Water, when she fell down on her Knees to pray to God, that he would give
that Vertue to the Water that it might refresh and satisfy her Children's
Hunger; with an Account how an Angel appeared to her and relieved her;
also declared many things that shall happen in the Month of March next;
shewing likewise what strange and surprizing Accidents shall happen by
means of the present War; and concerning a dreadful Earthquake, etc.

Edinburgh: Printed in the Year 1741.

THE
Witch of the Woodlands;
OR, THE

COBLER'S NEW TRANSLATION.

Here Robin the Cobler for his former Evils,
Is punish'd bad as Faustus with his Devils.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard,
Bow Lane, London.

Here the old Witches dance, and then agree,
How to fit Robin for his Lechery;
First he is made a Fox and hunted on,
'Till he becomes an Horse, an Owl, a Swan.
At length their Spells of Witchcraft they withdrew,
But Robin still more hardships must go through;
For e'er he is transform'd into a Man,
They make him kiss their bums and glad he can.

This is the argument of the story, which is too broad in its humour to be
reprinted, but the following two illustrations show the popular idea of his
Satanic Majesty and his dealings with witches.

THE HISTORY OF
DR. JOHN FAUSTUS.
There is very little similarity between this history and Goethe's beautiful
drama. This is essentially vulgar, and perfectly fitted for the popular taste it
catered for; but we, who are familiar with Goethe's masterpiece, can hardly
read it without a shudder. It has been given at length, because it is a type of
its class.

The History of Faust (who, as far as one can learn, existed early in the
sixteenth century) has been repeatedly written, especially in Germany,
where it first appeared in 1587, published at Frankfurt-on-the-Main, and it
was soon translated into English by P. K. Gent. Marlowe produced his
"Tragicall History of D. Faustus" in 1589, and in an entry in the Register of
the Stationers' Company it appears that in the year 1588 "A Ballad of the
Life and Death of Doctor Faustus, the great Congerer," was licensed to be
printed,* so that it soon became well rooted in England. It has been a
favourite theme with dramatists and musicians, and has even been the
subject of a harlequinade, "The Necromancer; or Harlequin Dr. Faustus"
(London, 1723). It was a popular Chap book, and many versions were
published of it in various parts of the country. J. O. Halliwell Phillips, Esq.,
has an English edition of Faustus printed 1592, unknown to Herbert or
Lowndes.

* Probably the original of that ballad, "The Judgment of God shewed upon one J. Faustus
Dr. in Divinity," of which the British Museum possesses two versions—

643 m. 10,
Rox. II. 235 and the date of both being attributed 1670. (return)
55.

THE HISTORY
OF

Dr. John Faustus,
SHEWING

How he sold himself to the Devil to have power to do what
he pleased for twenty-four years.

ALSO

STRANGE THINGS DONE BY HIM AND HIS SERVANT
MEPHISTOPHOLES.

With an Account how the Devil came for him, and tore him in
Pieces.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard
Bow Lane, London.

THE HISTORY OF
DR. JOHN FAUSTUS.

Chap. 1.
The Doctor's Birth and Education.

Dr. John Faustus was born in Germany: his father was a poor labouring
man, not able to give him any manner of education; but he had a brother in
the country, a rich man, who having no child of his own, took a great fancy
to his nephew, and resolved to make him a scholar. Accordingly he put him
to a grammar school, where he took learning extraordinary well; and
afterwards to the University to study Divinity. But Faustus, not liking that
employment, betook himself to the study of Necromancy and Conjuration,
in which arts he made such a proficiency, that in a short time none could
equal him. However he studied Divinity so far, that he took his Doctor's
Degree in that faculty; after which he threw the scripture from him, and
followed his own inclinations.

Chap. 2.
Dr. Faustus raises the Devil, and afterwards
makes

him appear at his own House.

Faustus whose restless mind studied day and night, dressed his imagination
with the wings of an eagle, and endeavoured to fly all over the world, and
see and know the secrets of heaven and earth. In short he obtained power to
command the Devil to appear before him whenever he pleased.

One day as Dr. Faustus was walking in a wood near Wirtemberg in
Germany, having a friend with him who was desirous to see his art, and
requested him to let him see if he could then and there bring
Mephistopholes before them. The Doctor immediately called, and the Devil
at the first summons made such a hedious noise in the wood as if heaven
and earth were coming together. And after this made a roaring as if the
wood had been full of wild beasts. Then the Doctor made a Circle for the
Devil, which he danced round with a noise like that of ten thousand
waggons running upon paved stones. After this it thundered and lightened
as if the world had been at an end.

Faustus and his friend, amazed at the noise, and frighted at the devil's long
stay, would have departed; but the Devil cheared them with such musick, as
they never heard before. This so encouraged Faustus, that he began to
command Mephistopholes, in the name of the prince of Darkness, to appear
in his own likeness; on which in an instant hung over his head a mighty

dragon.—Faustus called him again, as he was used, after which there was a
cry in the wood as if Hell had been opened, and all the tormented souls had
been there—Faustus in the mean time asked the devil many questions, and
commanded him to shew a great many tricks.

Chap. 3.
Mephistopholes comes to the Doctor's House;
and

of what passed between them.

Faustus commanded the spirit to meet him at his own house by ten o'clock
the next day. At the hour appointed he came into his chamber, demanding
what he would have? Faustus told him it was his will and pleasure to
conjure him to be obedient to him in all points of these articles, viz.

First, that the Spirit should serve him in all things
he asked, from that time till death.
Secondly, whosoever he would have, the spirit
should bring him.
Thirdly. Whatsoever he desired for to know he
should tell him.

The Spirit told him he had no such power of himself, until he had
acquainted his prince that ruled over him. For, said he, we have rulers over
us, who send us out and call us home when they will; and we can act no
farther than the power we receive from Lucifer, who you know for his pride
was thrust out of heaven. But I can tell you no more, unless you bind
yourself to us—I will have my request replied Faustus, and yet not be
damned with you—Then said the spirit, you must not, nor shall not have
your desire, and yet thou art mine and all the world cannot save thee from
my power. Then get you hence, said Faustus, and I conjure thee that thou
come to me at night again.

Then the spirit vanished, and Doctor Faustus began to consider by what
means he could obtain his desires without binding himself to the Devil.

This is a rough copy of the frontispiece to Gent's
translation, ed. 1648.

While Faustus was in these cogitations, night drew on, and then the spirit
appeared, acquainting him that now he had orders from his prince to be
obedient to him, and to do for him what he desired, and bid him shew what
he would have.—Faustus replied, His desire was to become a Spirit, and
that Mephistopholes should always be at his command; that whenever he
pleased he should appear invisible to all men.—The Spirit answered his
request should be granted if he would sign the articles pronounced to him
viz, That Faustus should give himself over body and soul to Lucifer, deny
his Belief, and become an enemy to all good men; and that the writings
should be made with his own blood.—Faustus agreeing to all this, the Spirit
promised he should have his heart's desire, and the power to turn into any
shape, and have a thousand spirits at command.

Chap. 4.
Faustus lets himself blood, and makes himself
over

to the Devil.

The Spirit appearing in the morning to Faustus, told him, That now he was
come to see the writing executed and give him power. Whereupon Faustus
took out a knife, pricked a vein in his left arm, and drew blood, with which
he wrote as follows:

"I, John Faustus, Doctor in Divinity, do openly acknowlege That in all my
studying of the course of nature and the elements, I could never attain to my
desire; I finding men unable to assist me, have made my addresses to the
Prince of Darkness, and his messenger Mephistopholes, giving them both
soul and body, on condition that they fully execute my desires; the which
they have promised me. I do also further grant by these presents, that if I be
duly served, when and in what place I command, and have every thing that
I ask for during the space of twenty four years, then I agree that at the

expiration of the said term, you shall do with Me and Mine, Body and Soul,
as you please. Hereby protesting, that I deny God and Christ and all the host
of heaven. And as for the further consideration of this my writing, I have
subscribed it with my own hand, sealed it with my own seal, and writ it
with my own blood.
John Faustus."

No sooner had Faustus sent his name to the writing, but his spirit
Mephistopholes appeared all wrapt in fire, and out of his mouth issued fire;
and in an instant came a pack of hounds in full cry. Afterwards came a bull
dancing before him, then a lion and a bear fighting. All these and many
spectacles more did the Spirit present to the Doctor's view, concluding with
all manner of musick, and some hundreds of spirits dancing before him.—
This being ended, Faustus looking about saw seven sacks of silver, which
he went to dispose of, but could not handle himself, it was so hot.

This diversion so pleased Faustus, that he gave Mephistopholes the writing
he had made, and kept a copy of it in his own hands. The Spirit and Faustus
being agreed, they dwelt together, and the devil was never absent from his
councils.

Chap. 5.
How Faustus served the Electoral Duke of
Bavaria.

Faustus having sold his soul to the Devil, it was soon reported among the
neighbours, and no one would keep him company, but his spirit, who was
frequently with him, playing of strange tricks to please him.

Not far from Faustus's house lived the Duke of Bavaria, the Bishop of
Saltzburg, and the Duke of Saxony, whose houses and cellars
Mephistopholes used to visit, and bring from thence the best provision their
houses afforded.

One day the Duke of Bavaria had invited most of the gentry of that country
to dinner, in an instant came Mephistopholes and took all with him, leaving
them full of admiration.

If at any time Faustus had a mind for wild or tame fowl, the Spirit would
call whole flocks in at the window. He also taught Faustus to do the like so
that no locks nor bolts could hinder them.

The devil also taught Faustus to fly in the air, and act many things that are
incredible, and too large for this book to contain.

Chap. 6.
Faustus Dream of Hell, and what he saw there.

After Faustus had had a long conference with the Spirit concerning the fall
of Lucifer, the state and condition of the fallen angels, he in a dream saw
Hell and the Devils.

Having seen this sight he marvelled much at it, and having Mephistopholes
on his side, he asked him what sort of people they was who lay in the first
dark pit? Mephistopholes told him they were those who pretended to be
physicians, and had poisoned many thousands in trying practices; and now
said the spirit, they have the very same administered unto them which they
prescribed to others, though not with the same effect; for here, said he, they
are denied the happiness to die.—Over their heads were long shelves full of
vials and gallipots of poison.

Having passed by them, he came to a long entry exceeding dark, where was
a great crowd: I asked what they were? and the Spirit told me They were
pick pockets, who, because they loved to be in a crowd in the other world,
were also crowded here together. Among these were some padders on the
highway, and others of that function.

Walking farther I saw many thousand vintners and some millions of taylors;
insomuch there was scarce room enough for them in the place destined for
their reception.

A little farther the Spirit opened a cellar door, from which issued a smoke
almost enough to choak me, with a dismal noise; I asked what they were?
and the Spirit told me, They were Witches, such as had been pretended
Saints in the other world, but now having lost their veil, they squabble, fight
and tear one another.

A few steps farther I espied a great number almost hid with smoke; and I
asked who they were? The Spirit told me they were Millers and bakers; but,
good lack! what a noise was there among them! the miller cried to the baker

and the baker to the miller for help, but all in vain, for there was none that
could help them.

Passing on farther I saw thousands of Shop keepers, some of whom I know,
who were tormented for defrauding and cheating their Customers.

Having taken this prospect of Hell, my Spirit Mephistopholes took me up in
his arms, and carried me home to my own house, where I awaked, amazed
at what I had seen in my dream.

Being come to myself I asked Mephistopholes in what place Hell was? he
answered, Know thou that before the Fall, Hell was ordained: As for the
substance or extent of Hell, we Devils do not know it; but it is the wrath of
God that makes it so furious.

Chap. 7.
Dr. Faustus's Trick on Twenty Students.

Thirteen students meeting seven more near Faustus's house, fell to words,
and at length to blows; the thirteen was took hard for the seven. The Doctor
looking out at a window saw the fray, and seeing how much the Seven were
overmatched by the thirteen, he conjured them all blind, so that they could
not see each other; and in this manner they continued to fight, and so smote
each other, as made the public laugh heartily. At length he parted them,
leading them all to their own homes, where they immediately recovered
their sight, to the great astonishment of all.

Chap. 8.
Faustus helps a young Man to a fair Lady.

There was a galant young gentleman that was in love with a fair Lady, who
was of a proper personage, living at Wirtemberg near the Doctors house.
This gentleman had long sought the lady in marriage, but could not obtain
his desire; and having placed his affections so much upon her, he was ready
to pine away, and had certainly died with grief, had he not made his affairs
known to the Doctor, to whom he opened the whole matter. No sooner had
the gentleman told his case to the Doctor, but he bid him not fear, for his
desire should be fulfilled, and he should have her he so much admired, and
that the gentlewoman should love none but him, which was done
accordingly; for Faustus so changed the mind of the damsel, by his
practices, that she could think of nothing else but him, whom she before
hated; and Faustus's device was thus: He gave him an inchanted ring, which
he ordered him to slip on her finger, which he did: and no sooner was it on
but her affections began to change, and her heart burned with love towards
him. She instead of frowns could do nothing else but smile on him, and
could not be at rest till she had asked him if he thought he could love her,
and make her a good husband: he gladly answered yes, and he should think
he was the happiest man alive; so they were married the next day, and
proved a very happy couple.

Chap. 9.
Faustus makes seven Women dance naked in
the Market.

Faustus walking in the Market place saw seven jolly women setting all on a
row, selling butter and eggs, of each of them he bought something and
departed; but no sooner was he gone, but all their butter and eggs were gone
out of their baskets, they knew not how. At last they were told that Faustus
had conjured all their goods away; whereupon they ran in haste to the
Doctor's house, and demanded satisfaction for their wares.—He resolved to
make sport for the townspeople; made them pull off all their cloaths, and
dance naked to their baskets; where every one saw their goods safe, and
found herself in a humour to put her cloaths on again.

Chap. 10.
How Faustus served a Countryman driving swine.

Faustus, as he was going one day to Wirtemberg, overtook a country fellow
driving a herd of Swine, which was very headstrong, some running one way
and some another way, so that the driver could not tell how to get them
along. Faustus taking notice of it made every one of them dance upon their
hind legs, with a fiddle in one of their fore feet and a bow in the other, and
so dance and fiddle all the way to Wirtemberg, the countryman dancing all
the way before them, which made the people wonder—After Faustus had
satisfied himself with this sport, he conjured the fiddles away; and the
countryman offering his pigs for sale, soon sold them and got the money;
but before he was gone out of the house, Faustus conjured the pigs out of
the market, and sent them to the countryman's house. The man who had
bought them, seeing the swine gone, stopped the man that sold them, and
forced him to give back the money; on which he returned home very
sorrowful, not knowing what to do; but to his great surprize found all the
pigs in their sties.

Chap. 11.
Faustus begins to contemplate upon his latter
End.

Faustus having spun out his twenty four years within a month or two, began
to consider what he could do to cheat the devil, to whom he had made over
both body and soul, but could find no ways to frustrate his miserable end;
which now was drawing near. Whereupon in a miserable tone he cried out,
O lamentable wretch that I am! I have given myself to the devil for a few
years pleasure to gratify my Carnal and devilish appetites, and now I must
pay full dear; Now I must have torment without end. Woe is me, for there is
none to help me; I dare not, I cannot look for mercy from God, for I have
abandoned him; I have denied him to be my God, and given up myself to
the Devil to be his for ever; and now the time is almost expired, and I must
be tormented for ever and ever.

Chap. 12.
Faustus warned by the Spirit to prepare for his
end.

Faustus's full time being come, the Spirit appeared to him, and shewed him
the writings, and told him that the next day the Devil would fetch him away.
This made the Doctor's heart to ache; but to divert himself he sent for some
Doctors, Masters and Batchelors of Arts, and other students to dine with
him for whom he provided a great store of varieties, with musick and the
like; but all would not keep up his spirits, for his hour drew near—
Whereupon his countenance changing, the doctors asked the reason of his
confusion? To which Faustus answered, O! my friends, you have known me
these many years, and that I practised all manner of wickedness. I have
been a great conjuror, which art I obtained of the devil; selling myself to
him soul and body, for the term of twenty four years; which time expiring to
night, is the cause of my sorrow; I have called you, my friends, to see my
miserable end; and I pray let my fate be a warning to you all, not to attempt
to search farther into the secrets of nature than is permitted to be known to
man, lest your searches lead you to the Devil, to whom I must this night go,
whether I will or no.

About twelve o'clock at night the house shook so terribly that they all feared
it would have tumbled on their heads, and suddenly the doors and windows
were broke to pieces, and a great hissing was heard as though the house had
been full of snakes; Faustus in the mean time calling out for help but all in

vain. There was a vast roaring in the hall, as if all the Devils in Hell had
been there; and then they vanished, leaving the hall besprinkled with blood,
which was most terrible to behold.

FINIS.

THE

HISTORY

Of the Learned

FRIAR BACON.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard,
London.

Roger Bacon was born at Ilchester, Somersetshire, in 1214, and was
educated at Oxford and Paris, where he was made D.D. He seems to have
settled at Oxford about 1240, and entered the order of St. Francis. He
devoted himself body and soul to the study of natural philosophy,
mathematics, and chemistry, and obtained such celebrity by his discoveries,
that they were assigned to evil spirits, and he himself was branded as a
magician. He was confined to his cell and forbidden to lecture. A copy of
his "Opus Majus" being sent to Clement IV. on his elevation to the Papal
chair, he promised his protection, which continued until his death; when
Bacon was more severely persecuted, his works were prohibited, and he
was imprisoned about ten years. When released, he returned to his beloved
Oxford, where he died, June 11, 1292. Why the popular idea of him in after
times should be always associated with the ludicrous, I cannot say, but it is
so, even in Greene's play, "The Honourable Historie of frier Bacon, and
frier Bongay," of which the earliest edition extant is 1594; but it must have
been earlier, for in Henslowe's Diary, under 1591-92, is an entry, "Rd at
fryer bacone, the 19 of febrary satterdaye xvijs iid." Indeed, every history
makes fun about him, and almost all his deeds are comic. In this book, for
instance, the king, being about four miles from Oxford, naturally desired to
see the great philosopher, and sent a nobleman to bring him. Bacon could
not go quietly, but he caused a great mist to spring up, and the nobleman
lost his way; whilst Bacon was straightway transported into the king's
presence, when at the royal request he waved his wand, and caused
beautiful music to sound. Another wave, and a banquet appeared, of which
the king and queen partook, and then it vanished, leaving the place sweetly
perfumed. "Then waving the fourth time, came in Russians Persians and
Polanders clad with the finest furs and richest silks in the universe, which
he bid them feel; and then the strangers all dancing after their fashion
vanished.... During this, the gentleman of the bed chamber came in puffing
and blowing, all bemired and dirty, his face and hands scratched with
bushes and briars. The King asked him why he stayed so long and how he
came in that condition? Oh! the plague, said he, take Friar Bacon and all his

Devils, they have led me a dance to the endangering my neck; but the dog is
here, I'll be revenged on him. Then he laid his hand upon his sword; but
Bacon waving his wand, fixed it in the scabbard, that he could not draw it,
saying, I fear not thy anger, thou hadst best be quiet, lest a worse thing befal
thee."

He had a hypocritical servant, who on Good Friday would not take a bit of
bread and a cup of wine when offered by his master, but went privately to
eat a pudding, which, by Bacon's enchantments, stuck fast in his mouth, in
which condition he was found by the friar, who fastened him by the
pudding to the college gate, and there left him to be exposed to the jeers of
the passers-by.

After he had perfected his famous brazen head, which was to speak at some
time or other unknown, within two months after being finished, and
required careful watching, this man Miles had his turn of guard. When the
head uttered the words "Time is," instead of at once informing his master,
he chaffed the head, and it said "Time was." He still went on bantering,
when the head called out, "Time is past," and then, with a horrible noise, it
fell down and broke in pieces. Bacon and Bungay rushed in, and on
questioning Miles he told them the truth, and was punished by his enraged
master with the loss of speech for the space of two months.

A

Timely Warning

To Rash and Disobedient

CHILDREN.

Being a strange and wonderful RELATION of a young
Gentleman in the Parish of Stepheny in the Suburbs of
London, that sold himself to the Devil for 12 Years to have
the Power of being revenged on his Father and Mother, and
how his Time being expired, he lay in a sad and deplorable
Condition to the Amazement of all Spectators.

Edinburgh: Printed Anno 1721.

B at e m a n ' s T r a g e d y ,
OR THE

Perjured Bride justly rewarded;
BEING THE

HISTORY
OF THE

U N F O R T U N AT E L O V E
OF

German's Wife and Young Bateman.

Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.

The story of this very popular Chap book can be very well epitomized by
the headings of the chapters, which give an excellent idea of the tale.

Chapter I.

How young Bateman, riding through Clifton Town, accidentally espied
fair Isabella, a rich Farmer's Daughter, standing at her Father's
door, and fell in love with her, enquiring who she was, and his
resolution to let her know his passion.

Chapter II.

How the fair Isabella fell sick for Love of Bateman, though a Stranger,
and his Abode unknown to her, when she was given over, he came
in the Habit of a Physician, discovered himself to her, and she
recovered her health by that means, to the unspeakable joy of her
Parents.

Chapter III.

How being invited to her Father's House, he walked abroad with her
and discovered his passion to her at large. Of the Encouragement
he found to proceed in his Suit, and the prospect there was of a
happy marriage between them.

Chapter IV.

How he came and asked her Father's consent, but was refused. How
one German attempted to kill him, but was wounded by him: and
how he made his escape.

Chapter V.

How being banished from her Father's house, his lovely mistress, upon
sending a letter, came to him in disguise, in a neighbouring wood,
and there they sealed their love by solemn vows, and breaking a
piece of gold between them.

Chapter VI.

How upon her coming back, her going was discovered, and she
confined to her chamber, where German courted her with tears
presents and the proffer of a great estate; she at the instance of her
parents, renounced her vows, sent back her gold, and married him,
whereupon Bateman hanged himself.

Chapter VII.

How, upon Bateman's hanging himself before her door, she grew
malancholy, fancying she saw him with a ghostly face, putting her
in mind of her broken vows; and how after having been delivered
of a child, a spirit carried her away.

THE
Miracle of Miracles.
Being a full and true Account of Sarah Smith, Daughter of John Symons a
Farmer, who lately was an Inhabitant of Darken Parish in Essex, that was
brought to Bed of a Strange Monster, the Body of it like a Fish with Scales
thereon: it had no Legs but a pair of great Claws, Tallons Like a Liands, it
had Six Heads on its Neck, one was like the Face of a Man with Eyes Nose
and Mouth to it, the 2d like the Face of a Cammel, and its Ears Cropt, Two
other Faces like Dragons with spiked Tongues hanging out of their Mouths,
another had an Eagles Head with a Beak instead of a Mouth at the end of it,
and the last seeming to be a Calves head. Which eat and fed for some time,
which Monster has surprised many Thousand people that came there to see
it. Daily, Spectators flock to view it, but it was by Command of the
Magistrates knock'd on the Head, and several Surgeons were there to
dissect it. Also you have a Funeral Sermon on the Woman who brought it
forth, a very wicked Liver, and disobedient to her Parents, and one that was
mightily given to Wishing, Cursing and Swearing. With a Prayer before and
after the said Sermon. It being very fit and necessary to be had in all
Families for a Warning to Disobedient Children. This strange and unheard
of Monster was brought into the World in May last, and if any doubt the
truth thereof, it will be certify'd by the Minister and Church-Wardens of the
said Parish of Darkins in Essex as aforesaid.

Entred in the Hall Book according to Order.

A wonderful and Strange
RELATION
OF A

SAILOR
IN

St. Bartholomew's Hospital, London;
WHO

Slept for Five Days and Nights together and then awaking
gave an Account of the Blessedness of those in Heaven,
and the woful Estate of the Damned in Hell. And also of the
STATE of two of his Companions who dy'd whilst he was
in his sleep. All which is attested by the Minister and many
who were present and Ear Wittnesses to the Relation.

TO WHICH IS PREFIXED

The Greatest Light to Sinners
Occasioned and Explain'd by the late

Sleeping Man's DREAM.

Licensed and entered According to Order.

The Children's Example.
SHEWING

How one Mrs. Johnson's Child of Barnet was tempted by
the Devil to forsake God and follow the Ways of other
Wicked Children, who us'd to Swear, tell Lies, and disobey
their Parents; How this pretty innocent Child resisting
Satan, was Comforted by an Angel from Heaven, who
warned her of her approaching Death; Together with her
dying Speeches desiring young Children not to forsake
God, lest Satan should gain a Power over them.

Enter'd according to Order.

This style of Chap-book, although always a favourite among a certain
section of society, is such rubbish that one extract will suffice:—

"As this Child went to School one Day,
Through the Church Yard she took her Way,
When, lo! the Devil came and said,
Where are you going, pretty Maid?
To School I am going Sir (said she)
Pish, child, don't mind the same, (saith he)
But hast to your Companions dear,
And learn to lie, and curse and swear.
They bravely spend their time in Play,
God they don't value; no, not they;

It is a Fable, Child he cry'd.
At which his Cloven Foot she spy'd.
I'm sure there is a God, said she,
Who from your Power will keep me free;
And if you should this thing deny,
Your Cloven Foot gives you the Lie.
Satan avoid hence out of Hand
In name of JESUS I command!
At which the Devil instantly
In flames of Fire away did fly," etc., etc.

There is another somewhat similar one, presumably of same date "to the
tune of 'The Children's Example,'" entitled "The Pious Virgin; or Religious
Maid. Being a Relation of the Wonderful and Divine Speeches of Sarah
Shrimpton, Daughter to Mrs. Shrimpton, living in Rochester, who falling
into a Trance declared the Wonderful Things she had seen; desiring Young
Children to serve the Lord in the Time of their Youth, in order to obtain
Salvation;" but it is not worth an extract.

Indeed, speculative young ladies of this class do not seem to have been
uncommon, for a Miss Katherine Atkinson of Torven, in the parish of
Ulverstone in the county palatine of Lancaster, also indulged in the luxury
of a trance, which is described as follows:—

A New Prophesy; or, An

ACCOUNT
Of a young Girl, not above Eight Years of Age; Who being
in a Trance, or lay as dead for the Space of Forty Eight
Hours. With an Account of the Strange and Wonderful
Sight that she see in the other World. With an Alarm from
Heaven to the Inhabitants of the Earth; Giving an Account
how crying Sins of the Day and Time do provoke the
Almighty. With strange and wonderful Things, as a
Warning to this last and worst Age, agreeable to the Holy
Scriptures and Divine Revelation. The like never published;
That the Saying of the Almighty may be fulfilled, That out
of the Mouth of Babes and Sucklings God will perfect
Praise.

Licensed and Entered according to Order.

GOD'S JUST JUDGMENT ON

BLASPHEMERS,
Being a Terrible Warning Piece to repining
Murmurers, set forth in a dreadful Example of the
Almighty's Wrath, on one Mr. Thomas Freeburn a
Farmer, near Andover in Wiltshire, who utter'd those
horrid and blasphemous Expressions, That God
never did him any good in his Life, and he believed
did not know what he did himself; with other words
too monstrous and devilish to be repeated: Upon
which he was immediately struck Speechless,
Motionless and almost without sign of Life, and fell
down as in a dead Sleep; and no strength of Men or
Horses, has been able hitherto to remove him from
the ground.

Also an Account of his wicked Life and Actions for 24 Years
before this just Judgment fell upon him, with his coming to
his Speech again, in four Months and twenty Day's time, and
the terrible Sights he saw in the other World, which he has
discover'd to some thousands of Spectators.

Licensed and Entered according to Order.

A Dreadful Warning

To all Wicked and Forsworn

SINNERS.
Shewing the sad and dreadful Example of Nicholas Newsom
and David Higham, who were drinking in a Public House in
Dudley near Birmingham on Thursday; the 5th day of March
1761. Giving an Account, how they laid a Wager, whether
could swear the most blasphemous Oaths, and how they were
struck Deaf and Dumb, with their Tongues hanging out of
their Mouths.

To which is added a Sermon, preached on this
Occasion, by the Rev. Dr. Smith from the following
Text. Matt. 5. 34. 35. Swear not at all neither by
Heaven for it is Gods Throne; nor by the earth for it is
his Footstool.

Here is a full and true

RELATION

OF ONE

Mr. RICH LANGLY, a Glazier,
Living over against the Sign of the Golden Wheat
Sheaf in Ratcliff Highway, London, that lay in a
Trance for two Days and one Night. He also saw the
Joys of Heaven and the Terrors of Hell.

You have also an Account when he came out of his Trance,
how he declared to the Minister, that he had but 5 Days to live
in this World, before he should depart. As soon as the Minister
was gone out of the Room, it is said the Devil appearing to
him, and asking of him if he would Sell his Soul and Body to
Him, proffering him in the shape of a Gentleman, a bag of
Gold, but he crying out against it, and saying, Lord Jesus
receive my soul.

Having an account how the Devil Vanished away in a Flame
of Fire, you have also in this Book, a Good and Godly

Sermon, that was Preached on him at his Funeral, by that
Reverend and Learned Divine, Dr. Pede, Minister, of the
Parish Church of Clakenwell London.

Licensed according to Order.

London: Printed for T. Bland near Fleet Street.

A Full, True and Particular

ACCOUNT
of the Ghost or Apparition of the Late Duke of
Buckingham's Father, which several Times appeared
in Armor to one of the Duke's Servants; and for
about half a Year before foretold the Dukes death.

Printed by F. C. in the Old Bailey.

This account of the apparition of Sir George Villiers purports to be an
"Extract a Monsieur d'Ablancour, le Vie le Grand Duc de Buckingham," but
in reality is taken word for word from Clarendon's "History of the
Rebellion," book i. pars. 89 to 93; according to which, the apparition
appeared three times to an officer of the king's wardrobe, in Windsor Castle,
and commanded him to tell the Duke of Buckingham "that if he did not
somewhat to ingratiate himself to the People, or at least, to abate the
Extream Mallice they had against him, he would be suffer'd to live but a
Short Time." He is reported to have seen the duke, and left him much
troubled. Soon afterwards the duke was murdered by Felton.

There were many strange stories similar to this afloat. Lilly the conjuror
gave a version in his "Observations on the Life and Death of King Charles,"
which Dr. Robert Plot contradicted, and gave an altogether fresh one, in all
probability as veracious.

That the duke received warnings of danger to himself is undoubted. Sir
Henry Wotton, in his "Short View of the Life and Death of George Villiers
Duke of Buckingham" (1642), admits it, but he denies any supernatural
warning. He says, "I have spent some enquiry whether he had any ominous
presagement before his end; wherein though both ancient and modern
Stories have been infected with much vanity; yet oftentimes things fall out
of that kind which may bear a sober constitution, whereof I will glean two
or three in the Duke's Case.

"Being to take his leave of my Lords Grace of Canturbury the only Bishop
of London, whom he knew well planted in the King's unchangeable
affection, by his own great abilities, after cortesies of courage had passed
between them; My Lord, sayes the Duke, I know your Lordship hath very
worthily good accesses unto the King our Soveraign, let me pray you to put
His Majesty in minde to be good, as I no way distrust, to my poor wife and
children; at which words, or at his countenance in the delivery, or at both,
My Lord Bishop being somewhat troubled, took the freedom to aske him
where [? whether] he had never any secret abodements in his minde, No
(replyed the Duke) but I think some adventure may kill me as well as
another man," etc.

THE
PORTSMOUTH GHOST
OR A

Full and true Account of a Strange, wonderful, and
dreadful Appearing of the Ghost of Madam Johnson,
a beautiful young Lady of Portsmouth

SHEWING

1. Her falling in Love with Mr. John Hunt, a Captain in
one of the Regiments sent to Spain.
2. Of his promising her Marriage, and leaving her big
With Child.
3. Of her selling herself to the Devil to be revenged on
the Captain.
4. Of her ripping open her own Belly, and the Devil's
flying away with her Body, and leaving the Child
in the room.
5. Of the Captain's Fleet being drove back by a Storm
to St. Helen's.
6. Of her appearing to several Sailors, acquainting them
who she was.
7. Of her Carrying him away in the night in a flame of
fire.

Printed and Sold by Cluer Dicey and Co. in Aldermary
Church Yard, Bow Lane.

This book is useful, as it shows the early date of the firm of Dicey in
Aldermary Churchyard. It must have been published very early in the
century, for her ghost appeared to him whilst on his voyage to Vigo; the
date of the famous capture of the galleons and the large quantity of snuff,
which augmented, if it did not almost inaugurate, the taste for snuff-taking
in England, being 1702. The catastrophe of the poem is graphically told.

"The next time that she came again
For to have perish'd on the main,
They all expected for to rue
So violent the storm it grew.
They all at fervent prayers were,
At length this sailor, I declare,
Did speak to her, and thus did say,
What ails thy troubled spirit pray?
The truth she quickly then did tell.
Saying Him I'll have, then all is well
Then with a visage fierce and Grim,
She strait approached unto him,
He went to turn and hide his face,
She cry'd False man it is too late,
She clasp'd him in her arms straitway,
But no man knew his dying day.
In a flash of fire many see
She dragged him into the sea
The storm is soon abated where
They all returned thanks by prayer
Unto the Lord that sav'd their lives
And delivered them from that surprise
Let this a warning be to all
That reads the same both great and small."

THE
GUILFORD GHOST.
Being an Account of the Strange and Amazing Apparition or
Ghost of Mr. Christopher Slaughterford; with the manner of
his Wonderful Appearance to Joseph Lee his Man, and one
Roger Voller, at Guildford in Surrey, on Sunday and Monday
Night last, in a sad and astonishing manner, in several
dreadful and frightful Shapes, with a Rope about his Neck, a
flaming Torch in one hand and a Club in the Other, crying
Vengeance, Vengeance. With other amazing particulars.

London: Printed for J. Wyat in Southwark, 1709.

There is a contemporary Chap-book with this, printed by A. Hinde in Fleet
Street, 1709: "The Birth, Parentage, and Education, Life and Conversation
of Mr. Christopher Slaughterford, who was Executed at Guildford in Surrey,
on Saturday the 9th July, 1709, for the Barbarous Murther of Jane Young,
his Sweetheart," etc.

There was a peculiarity about this case—for the man protested his
innocence to the last, although the evidence was very strongly
circumstantial against him—and public opinion being exercised thereon, the
necessary "catchpenny" was forthcoming. His ghost seems to have appeared
to several people, and the book winds up: "P.S. Just now we have an

Account from the Marshalsea Prison in Southwark, that he was seen there
by several of the Prisoners on Tuesday Night last, and that he has been
heard to make his Fetters jingle in the Whyte Lyon, being the place where
he was put after his condemnation; insomuch, that those who have heard the
said unaccountable Noise are afraid to go near the said Place after Day
light."

THE
Wonder of Wonders
BEING

A Strange and Wonderful Relation of a Mermaid, that was
seen and spoke with, on the Black Rock nigh Liverpool, by
John Robinson Mariner, who was tossed on the Ocean for Six
days and Nights; Together with the Conversation he had with
her, and how he was preserved; with the Manner of his Death
five days after his return Home.

Licensed and entered according to Order.

On the 29th of April last one Mr. James Dixon Captain and Commander of
the Ship Dolphin in her passage from Amsterdam in Holland, was beat back
by a tempestuous Wind and all the Men perished except a young Man
named John Robinson, who was taken very ill on board the Ship, and was
left to Almighty Providence, and to the Mercy of the Seas and Winds, and
was also in great Fear and dreadful fright on the Main Ocean, for the said
John Robinson dreamt that he was on the top of an high Mountain, whose
top he thought reach'd up to the Heavens, and that there was a fine Castle,
about the Circumference of a Mile, and furnished with all sorts of
Diamonds, and precious Stones, and likewise on the top of the Mountain
was a well, which Water was as sweet as Honey and as white as Milk, that
whomsoever drank of that Water should never be dry again; with all sorts of

Musick very delightful to hear, so one would think, as one suppos'd seven
Years in that Place, not so long as a Day.

After having view'd the Castle round he observed to his great Admiration, a
beautiful young Lady, who was guarded by Seven Serpents, very frightful
to behold.

Suppose the young Lady was very beautiful, yet he wish'd rather to be a
Thousand Miles off than in the Sight of those Serpents; and looking round
about, he espy'd (to his great Comfort) a green Gate, and a street pav'd with
blue Marble, which open'd at his coming to it, and so he got away from the
Serpents; But coming to the top of the Hill, he did not know how to get
down, it being very high and steep, but he found a Ladder to his Comfort; it
being very slender, was afraid to venture, but at last was oblig'd to go down
it, for one of the Serpents having taken Notice of him pursued him so very
close that he was in great Danger, and thought he fell and broke his leg, and
that the Serpent fell upon him, which awaked him in great Fright, and
almost made him mad.

By this you may think what a great trouble he was in, awaked alone on the
Main Ocean, when missing all the rest of the Ships Crew, and also the great
Danger he was in.

But to his great Amazement, he espy'd a beautiful young Lady combing her
head, and toss'd on the Billows, cloathed all in green (but by chance he got
the first word with her) then she with a Smile came on board and asked how
he did. The young Man being Something Smart and a Scholar, reply'd
Madam I am the better to see you in good Health, in great hopes trusting
you will be a comfort and assistance to me in this my low Condition; and so
caught hold of her Comb and Green Girdle that was about her Waist. To
which she replied, Sir, you ought not to rob a young Woman of her Riches,
and then expect a favour at her Hands; but if you will give me my Comb
and Girdle again, what lies in my power, I will do for you.

At which Time he had no Power to keep them from her, but immediately
delivered them up again; she then smiling, thank'd him, and told him, If he
would meet her again next Friday she wou'd set him on shore. He had no
power to deny her, so readily gave his Consent; at which time she gave him

a Compass and desired him to Steer South West; he thank'd her and told her
he wanted some News. She said she would tell him the next opportunity
when he fulfilled his promises; but that he would find his Father and
Mother much grieved about him, and so jumping into the Sea she departed
out of his sight.

At her departure the Tempest ceased and blew a fair Gale to South West, so
he got safe on shore; but when he came to his Father's House he found
every Thing as she had told him. For she told him also concerning his being
left on Ship board, and how all the Seamen perished, which he found all
true what she had told him, according to the promise made him.

He was still very much troubled in his Mind, concerning his promise, but
yet while he was thus Musing, she appeared to him with a smiling
Countenance and (by his Misfortune) she got the first word of him, so that
he could not speak one Word, but was quite Dumb, yet he took Notice of
the Words she spoke; and she began to Sing. After which she departed out
of the young Mans sight, taking from him the Compass.

She took a Ring from off her Finger, and put it on the young Man's, and
said, she expected to see him once again with more Freedom. But he never
saw her more, upon which he came to himself again, went home, and was
taken ill, and died in five Days after, to the wonderful Admiration of all
People who saw the young Man.

FINIS.

Dreams and Moles
WITH THEIR
Interpretation and Signification
Made far more Manifest and Plain than any Published,
to the very meanest Capacities, by the
most ancient as well as the most modern Rules
of Philosophy.

To which is prefixed, A Collection of choice and valuable
Receipts concerning Love and Marriage.

First compiled in Greek, and now faithfully
rendered into English by a Fellow of the Royal
Society, and a true Lover of Learning.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard, Bow Lane.

THE
Old Egyptian Fortune-Teller's
Last Legacy
CONTAINING

1. The Wheel of Fortune by pricking with a Pin.
2. The Wheel of Fortune by the Dice.
3. The Signification of Moles.
4. The Art of Palmistry.
5. The Interpretation of Dreams.
6. The Art of Physiognomy; with the Signification of
Lines in the Face.
7. Omens of good and bad luck.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard, Bow Lane, London.

The engravings in this Chap-book are very numerous, but neither they nor
the subject-matter are worth reproducing in their entirety. Two extracts will
suffice to give an idea of the book.

"THE SIGNIFICATION OF MOLES.

A Mole on the right Shoulder, denotes happiness to
man or woman.

A Mole on the left shoulder, denotes a man to be
quarrelsome but a woman to have many husbands.

A Mole on the left cheek, denotes fruitfulness in
man or woman.

A Mole on the left ribs denotes a Man very cruel,
and a woman to be vain and proud.

A Mole near the right Shoulder, denotes a Man to
be a slave to love, and shews that a woman will be
beloved of great Men.

A Mole under the right loin, signifies an
industrious man, and good to a woman.

A Mole on the buttock denotes honour to a man,
and Riches to a woman.

A Mole on the right side the belly, denotes a Man
to flow in riches, and a woman to be happy in
Marriage.

One under the right breast, denotes good Fortune.

One on the back denotes Riches and honour.

One on the right hip signifies good fortune in
wedlock to man or woman.

One near the navel signifies many Children.

It is a most certain truth. That if the second toe,
near the great toe, be as long as the great toe, the
person will be very rich and happy.

THE SIGNIFICATION OF DREAMS.

To dream of musick signifies speedy marriage.

To dream of falling out denotes constancy.

To dream a ring falls from off your finger, signifies
the loss of a friend.

To dream of meeting a coffin, signifies the death of
a friend.

To dream of birds singing, signifies joy.

To dream of having teeth drawn, loss of friends.

To fight with and destroy serpents, denotes victory
over enemies.

To dream of kisses denotes love from a friend.

To dream of a ring put on your finger, denotes a
speedy marriage.

To fly high, signifies praise.

To dream of gathering fruit from trees well loaden,
is gain and profit.

To dream of fire, and not being able to quench it,
signifies quarrels.

To dream of being at a wedding, signifies the death
of friends.

To dream of vermin, and to be troubled in killing
them signifies much riches.

To see the Sun or Moon greater than ordinary,
signifies increase of honour.

To be at a feast and eat greedily, signifies sickness.

To speak with an Angel that reveals secrets to you
denotes preferment.

To dream of losing blood by the nose is of ill
consequence.

To find difficulty in passing a river, signifies hard
labour.

To dream of falling from a high place without hurt
is good.

If you lay a bunch of rosemary under your head,
on Easter eve, you will dream of the party you
shall enjoy."

A NEW

FORTUNE BOOK.

Being a new Art of Courtship

Open'd for young Men and Maids, Widows, Widowers and
Batchelors, Instructions for young Men and Maids, how they
may know their good or bad Fortune, shewing the
signification of Moles, the Interpretation of Dreams, the
famous Secret and New invented Art of making the true and
false Love Powder; to make the Enchanted Ring that will
cause Love. Also how to cure a Drunken Husband or a
Scolding Wife, secondly, how to cure the Ague, Thirdly how
to cure the Tooth Ache.

Sold at Cirencester.

THE
HISTORY
OF

Mother Bunch of the West

CONTAINING

Many Rarities out of her Golden
Closet of Curiosities.

Printed and sold at the London and Middlesex Printing
Office. No 81 Shoe Lane, Holborn.

THE HISTORY OF
MOTHER BUNCH
Is not particularly interesting, except for its scraps of folk-lore, and both
parts consist principally of receipts for girls to get husbands. A few
examples may be acceptable.

"Take a St. Thomas's onion, pare it, and lay it on a clean handkerchief under
your pillow; put on a clean smock, and as you lie down, lay your arms
abroad, and say these words

Good St. Thomas, do me right
And bring my love to me this night,
That I may view him in the face,
And in my arms may him embrace.

Then lying on thy back, with thy arms abroad, go to sleep as soon as you
can, and in your first sleep you shall dream of him who is to be your
husband, and he will come and offer to kiss you; do not hinder him, but
catch him in thy arms, and strive to hold him, for that is he.

"Yet I have another pretty way for a maid to know her sweetheart which is
as follows: Take a summer apple, of the best fruit, stick pins close into the
apple, to the head, and as you stick them, take notice which of them is the
middlemost, and give it what name you fancy; put it into thy left hand
glove, and lay it under thy pillow on Saturday night, after thou gettest into
bed, then clap thy hands together, and say these words.

If thou be he that must have me
To be thy wedded bride,
Make no delay, but come away

This night to my bedside.

And in thy sleep thou shalt see him come in his shirt, and if he offer thee
any abuse, he will be great with another woman; but if he puts his hand
over thee be not afraid, for it is a sign he'll prove a good husband; and this
is a good way for a young man to know his sweetheart, giving the
middlemost pin that name he fancies best, putting an apple in his right hand
glove, and laying it under his pillow when he is in bed, saying,

If thou be she that must have me
In wedlock for to join,
Make no delay, but come away
Unto this bed of mine.

And that night he may see her, as if she came in her shift and petticoat she
will prove a civil woman—but if she comes with her shift only, she will
prove a ranter, and so better lost than found."

"On Midsummer Eve three or four of you must dip your shifts in fair water,
then turn them wrong side outwards, and hang them on chairs before the
fire, and lay some salt on another chair, and speak not a word. In a short
time the likeness of him you are to marry will come and turn your smocks,
and drink to you; but if there be any of you will never marry, they will hear
a bell, but not the rest."

"Another way quickly tried.

"Take hemp seed, and go into what place you will by yourself, carry the
seed in your apron, and with your right hand throw it over your shoulder,
saying,

Hemp seed I sow, hemp seed I sow,
And he that must be my true love,
Come after me and mow.

And at the ninth time expect to see the figure of him you are to wed, or else
to hear a bell as before."

"Another way.

"The first change of the New Moon in the New Year, the first time you see
it, hold your hands across, saying this three times.

New Moon, New Moon, I pray thee,
Tell me this night who my true love will be.

Then go to bed without speaking a word, and you will certainly dream of
the person you shall marry."

A GENTLEMAN GOING TO CONSULT WITH
MOTHER BUNCH.

MOTHER BUNCH'S FUNERAL.

Thus all her Art at length could not her save,
From death's dire stroke, and mould'ring in the
Grave.

THE

HI S TORY

OF

MOTHER SHIPTON.

Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard, London.

THE HISTORY OF
MOTHER SHIPTON.
All tradition agrees with the Chap-book version, that Mother Shipton was
born at Knaresborough, in Yorkshire. According to this Chap-book, her
father was the devil, and she was born in 1488, in a violent storm of thunder
and lightning. "The strange physiognomy of the infant frighted the gossips;
its body was long, and very big boned, great goggling, sharp and fiery eyes,
and unproportionable nose, full of crooks, turnings and red pimples, which
gave such light that needed not a candle to dress her by; as it was likewise
observed that as soon as she was born, she fell a grinning and laughing after
a jeering manner; and immediately the tempest ceased." This interesting
child was christened by the Abbot of Beverley by the name of Ursula, and
she took the surname of Sontibles, after her mother, who, when her child
was two years old, repented of her evil ways, and retired to the convent of
St. Bridget, near Nottingham. At the age of twenty-four, Ursula married
Toby Shipton, a carpenter, and it is related they lived comfortably together,
but never had any children. The wonders she worked are all jocular, and
some rather broad in their humour, but it is by her prophecies that she is
more generally known. Many are attributed to her, which she probably
never uttered, and those in the Chap-book are mainly local. She prophesied
that Cardinal Wolsey should never see York; and "at divers other times
when persons of quality came to visit her she delivered these prophecies.

"First Prophecy.

"Before Oose bridge and Trinity Church meet, they shall build by day and it
shall fall by night; until they get the uppermost stone of Trinity Church to
be the lowest stone of Oose Bridge.

"Explanation.

"This came to pass, for Trinity steeple in York was blown down by a
tempest and Oose Bridge broke down by a rapid flood, and what they
repaired by day fell down by night, until they laid the highest stone of the
steeple as a foundation of the Bridge.

"Second Prophecy.

"A time shall come when a ship will come sailing up the Thames till it is
opposite London, and the master of the ship asks the Captain of the ship
why he weeps, since he has made so good a voyage; and he shall say, Ah!
what a grand city was this? none in all the world comparable to it, and now
there is scarce a house left.

"Explanation.

"These words were verified after the dreadful Fire of London in 1666, not
one house being left on the Thames side from the Tower to the Temple,"
etc., etc.

There are more, but these are a fair sample, and two illustrations are also
given, showing the then popular idea of a Walpurgisnacht.

Mother Shipton is said to have died in 1561, but her life and prophecies
were not published till 1641, in a small quarto tract, "The Prophesie of
Mother Shipton in the raigne of Henry the eighth. Foretelling the death of
Cardinal Wolsey, the lord Percy, and others, as also what should happen in
insuing times. London: Printed for Richard Lownds at his shop adjoyning to
Ludgate. 1641."

NIXON'S

CHESHIRE PROPHECY

AT LARGE

Published from Lady Cowpers correct
Copy in the reign of Queen Ann.

WITH

Historical and Political Remarks;

AND

Several Instances wherein it has been
Fullfilled

ALSO HIS LIFE

Nixon unfolds the dark decrees of fate
Foretells our Second George shall make him great;
That Gallia's Politicks are all a Trance,
For Brunswick's Arms shall conquer wily France.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard, Bow Lane,
London.

Robert Nixon.

Judging from Mother Shipton, and this portrait of Nixon, our native
prophets are not remarkable for their good looks. The latter, especially,
seems to have owed very little to nature, for he is described as being "a
short squab fellow, had a great head and goggle eyes, that he used to drivel
as he spoke, which was very seldom, and was extremely surly.

"Against Children he particularly had a spite, especially if they made any
sport of him, and would run after them and beat them. At first he was a
plough boy to Farmer Crowton of Swanton, and so stubborn, they could
make him do nothing without beating. They could seldom get any thing out
of him but Yes and No, unless he was pinched with hunger; for he had a
very good stomach, and could eat up a shoulder of mutton at one meal, with
a good hunch of bread and cheese after it."

The spirit of prophecy seems to have come suddenly upon him, and his
recorded vaticinations are purely local.

His end was sad. "The noise of Nixon's predictions coming to the ears of
the King [presumably James I.] he would needs see this fool; he cried, and
made much ado that he might not go to court, and the reason he gave was
that he should be starved. The King being informed of Nixon's refusing to
come, said He would take particular care that he should not be starved; and
ordered him to be brought up. Nixon cried out he was sent for again—and
soon after the messenger arrived, who brought him up from Cheshire. How
or whether he prophesied to his Majesty no body can tell but he is not the
first fool that has made a good court prophet.—That Nixon might be well
provided for, it was ordered he should be kept in the kitchen; but he grew so
troublesome in licking and picking the meat, that the cooks locked him up
in a hole, and the King going on a sudden from Hampton Court to London,
they forgot Nixon in the hurry, and he was starved to death." The first
printed book relating to him is "The Cheshire Prophesy; with Historical and
Political Remarks. (By John Oldmixon) London printed and sold by A.
Baldwin, in Warwick Lane, price 3d." (1714).

REYNARD THE FOX.
Of the antiquity of this story there is no doubt; the only difficulty is to say
how old it is. A poem in Flemish, called "der Reinaert," was known in the
eleventh century; and in two serventes, or verses of the Troubadours,
attributed to our Richard I., the names of Isegrim the Wolf and Reinhart are
found. It was, however, reserved to England to have first printed it, as
Caxton did in 1481. This rare book is in the British Museum, and winds up
"Prayeng alle them that shal see this lytyl treatis to correcte and amende
Where they shal fynde faute / For I haue not added ne mynusshed but haue
folowed as nyghe as I can my Copye whiche was in dutche / and by me
Willm Caxton translated in to this rude and symple englyssh in thabbey of
Westmestre + fynysshed the vj daye of Juyn the yere of our lord mcccclxxxj
and the xxj yere of the regne of Kynge Edward the iiijth /." Roscoe* says
the earliest printed German copy would appear to be 1498, written in the
dialect of Lower Saxony; though there was a Dutch romance in prose
bearing the same title, "Historie van Reynaert de Vos," published at Delft in
1485. Goethe ennobled the subject by his poem in 1794.

This Chap-book version is somewhat condensed, but it gives a very good
account of the romance, and, as it is not very well known, it is given in
extenso.

* "German Novelists," vol. i.

THE HISTORY

OF

Reynard the Fox

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard
Bow Lane. London
1780.

Chap. 1.

A great feast proclaimed by the Lion, at which
the
Wolf, his Wife and the Hound complain against
Reynard the Fox.

It was when the woods was cloathed with green attire, and the meadows
adorned with fragrant flowers; when birds chaunted forth their harmonious
songs, the Lion made a great feast at his palace at Sanden; and issued a
proclamation for all the beasts and birds to come thereto without delay, on
pain of his contempt.

Now being assembled before the King, there were some beasts found there
that made great complaints against the Fox (who was absent) particularly
Isegrim the Wolf who thus began:

Dread Sovereign,

I beseech thee to take pity on me and my wife, for the injuries we have
sustained by that false creature Reynard the Fox; who came into my house
by violence and befouled my children in such a rank manner that they
became instantly blind; for which I expect from him amends, and from your
Majesty Justice.

When the Wolf had ended, up starts Curtis the Hound, and complaining
against Reynard, said, That in the cold season of the Winter, when he was
kept from all manner of prey, and half-starved, having but one poor pudding
left, the said Reynard had taken it from him.

Tibert the Cat, upon this got up, and falling before the King, said, My Lord,
I must confess that Reynard the Fox is much complained against, yet each
of these will find enough for his clearing; for concerning the offence against
the Hound it was committed long since; the puding was mine, though I
complained not, for I got it out of the Mill by night when the miller lay
asleep.

Here the Panther interrupted the Cat, saying, It was just and good to
complain against Reynard, for all the world knows he is a thief, murderer,
and ravisher; and false to every creature: I will tell you what I saw him do
yesterday to Kayward the Hare, who is now standing in the King's presence.
He promised to teach him his Credo, and make him a good chaplain; but
had I not come by he had killed him, for he had got poor Kayward between
his legs, and was squeezing his throat: therefore, O my Lord if you suffer
him to go unpunished that hath broken the peace, your Children hereafter
will bear the shadow of this evil—Certainly Panther, said Isegrim, what you
say is true.

Chap. 2.

Grimbard the Brock's Speech in Behalf of
Reynard.

Grimbard the Brock who was Reynard's Sister's Son, being moved with
anger, said, Isegrim, you are malicious and as the proverb is, Malice never
speaks well of any one: I wish you would agree that he who hath done the
most injury of either my Cousin Reynard or you, should die the death; was
he here at Court, and in favour as you are, he would make you ask
forgiveness, for have you not bitten and torn him with your venemous
teeth? have you forgot how you cheated him of his plaice, of which you left
him nothing but the bones; also of the flitch of bacon; the taste of which
was so good, that you eat it up from him alone, though he got it at the
danger of his own life; I must confess that my kinsman lay with his wife,
but it was seven years before Isgrim married her; so what credit gets he by
slandering his wife, when she is troubled at it.

Now comes Kayward the Hare with his complaint, which is but a trifle; for
if he would not learn his lesson, can you blame his schoolmaster Reynard
for giving due correction; and lastly, for Curtise had he not stole the
pudding himself? and who can blame Reynard for taking away stolen goods
from a thief; my uncle is a gentleman, a true man, and cannot endure
falsehood; he does nothing but by the Council of a priest; and since the
King hath made peace, he hath hurt no body; he eats but once a day, wears a
hair shirt, and hath eat no meat for this year past; he hath forsaken his
Castle, a poor hermitage retains him; he hath distributed all his wealth, and
lives upon alms, and doth infinite penance for his Sins.

Chap. 3.

The Cock's Complaint against Reynard; and the
King's Answer.
Thus while Grimbard stood preaching was brought upon a bier by
Canticleer the Cock, a dead Hen, whose head Reynard had bitten off: On
each side stood two sorrowful Hens, sisters to the deceased, each bearing a
burning torch, and crying out, Alack-and-a-well-a-day for the loss of our
sister Copple: and being come before the King, they kneeled down, and said

Most mighty King,

Vouchsafe to redress the great injuries that Reynard the Fox hath done me
and my children, now weeping before you. In April last, in fair weather, and
I in the midst of my pride, having seven fair daughters, was envied by
Reynard, who made many attempts to get at us by scaling the wall, but was
repulsed, and had his skin tore by the dogs: but at last he came like a hermit
with a letter to read, signed with your Majesty's seal, in which I found you
had made peace throughout your whole realm, and that no beast nor fowl
should hurt one another; and as for him he was become a Monk, did
penance for his sins, shewed me his books and beads, the hair shirt next his
skin, and vowed to eat no more flesh; and saying his Credo, laid himself
down under a bench.—I was glad to hear this, and took no heed, but
clucked my children together; but false Reynard crept between us and the
gate, seized on, bore away, and destroyed fifteen of them; and yesterday
Copple my daughter, now on the bier, was rescued from him by a kennel of
Hounds: so for all this, I beg of your Majesty, Justice.

The King then turning to Grimbard, said, Your Uncle hath prayed and fasted
well, hath he not? I vow he shall suffer for this—Mr. Canticleer I have
heard your complaint and will grant your request; give your daughter
solemn burial, and I will consult with my Lords to give you right against the
murderer.—This the King immediately did, and it was agreed to send Bruin
the Bear to summon Reynard to appear before the King to answer to the
heavy crimes laid to his charge.

Chap. 4.

Bruin the Bear unfortunate in his Message to
Reynard
the Fox.

The next morning went Bruin to Malepardus, a high mountain where
Reynard had a castle, and knocked at the gate, he cried aloud, Sir Reynard,
are you at home? I am Bruin your kinsman, come to summons you to Court,
to answer to several complaints laid against you; and if you appear not to
your summons, the King vows you shall answer it with your life.—Reynard
hearing this, ran into one of his holes, where he plotted how he might bring
the Bear to disgrace, whom he knew loved him not. At last he came out of
his holes saying, Dear uncle you are welcome, I was busy when you spoke,
in saying my evening devotion. I am sorry you have taken this long journey,
for I intended to have been at court to-morrow; indeed I wish we were there
now, since I have left off eating meat, my body is swelled and distempered
with eating so many honey combs through wantonness, that I fear its
consequence.—How! quoth Bruin do you make so light of honey combs,
which is meat for the Emperor? Nephew help me to some and I will be your
friend for ever—Quoth the Fox, well I will bring you to a place where you
shall have as much of it as you can eat: at this the Bear laughed till he could
hardly stand. Well, thought Reynard, you will soon laugh on the other side
of the mouth. So he brought him to a Carpenter's Yard where in stood a
great oak tree with two great wedges in it and the clift open. Dear Uncle,
said the Fox, be careful, for within this tree is much honey; pray eat
moderate, for a surfeit is dangerous.—Never fear you that, said Bruin; so he
entered the tree with eagerness, and thrust his head into the cleft quite over
his ears; which the Fox perceiving, pulled out the wedges, and the Bear was
locked fast in, and roared out hedieously; while the Fox at a distance said,
Is the honey good, Uncle? do you like it? pray do not surfeit yourself with
it: then left him and went to his Castle. The Bears noise brought out the
Carpenter and his neighbours with great sticks and staves; and the Bear
seeing so many enemies, at last wrenched his head out of the tree, leaving

behind him his skin and ears; upon this the people fell on him and beat him
most woefully; however at last he got from them, bitterly cursing the Fox,
who had brought him to this misery. In great pain and grief he at length
arrived at the King's Court, where he cried out, Behold, dread Sovereign,
for doing your Royal will and pleasure I am come to this disgrace. Then
said the King, How durst he do this? I swear by my crown I will take such
revenge as shall make him tremble.

Upon this was summoned another council, when it was agreed to send
Tibert the Cat.

Chap. 5.

Tibert the Cat's Ambassy to Reynard, with the
bad
Success of it.

Tibert was loath to go on this message, but at length, fearing the King's
displeasure, undertook it; and arriving at Malepardus, he found the Fox
standing at his Castle gate, to whom he thus addressed himself. Health to
my Cousin Reynard: the King by me summonses you to the Court, on sure
pain of death for the refusal—Welcome Cousin, I obey the command, and
wish my sovereign all happiness; only let me desire you to stay all night,
and early in the morning I will go with you—I am content to stay, says
Tibert, you speak like a gentleman—Truly says the Fox, I have but one
honeycomb left, what think you of it for supper? I had rather have a mouse,
replied Tibert—A Mouse dear Cousin! here is a parson hard by that hath a
barn full of mice. Dear Reynard, lead me thither, and I will be your friend
for ever—Now the Fox had the night before got into the parson's barn and
stole a fat hen, which so exasperated the priest, that he sat a snare to catch
him, of which the Fox being apprized, had escaped: To this hole brings the
Cat, saying Go in here, and you will soon get your bellyfull. I will wait for
you till you come out.

But may I go in safety said the Cat, for Priests are very subtle. Cousin, said
the Fox, I never knew you a Coward before. Puss being ashamed at this
reproof, sprung in, and was quickly caught by the Neck; which as soon as

the Cat felt, he leaped back again, so that the snare closed faster and had
like to have strangled him, so that he exclaimed bitterly against Reynard,
who scornfully said, Tibert, dost thou love mice? but the Cat mewed sadly.
The priest rising out of his bed called up his servant, saying, We have
caught the Fox that stole our Hens; and coming to Tibert, smote him with a
great Staff, and struck out one of his eyes. The Cat thinking his death near,
leaped between the Priests legs and fastened his Claws into them; which
when his wife saw, swore she would rather lose the whole offering of seven
years, than see him so abused—This threw the priest into a swoon, so they
all left the Cat, and the Fox returned to his Castle, thinking Tibert past
recovery; but he, seeing his foes busy about the priest gnawed the Cord
asunder, and made her escape out of the hole, going roaring to court with
the loss of one eye, and a bruised body; so that when the King beheld him
he was angry and took Council once more how to be revenged on the Fox.

Chap. 6.

The Brock's Embassy to Reynard, the Fox's
Confession
and their Arrival at Court.

Then said the King, Go you Sir Grimbard, but take heed, Reynard is very
subtle. Brock thanked his Majesty, and taking his leave, went to
Malepardus, and found Reynard and his wife sporting with their young ones
—Having saluted them, he said, Take heed uncle, that absence from the
Court doth not do you more harm than you think for; the complaints against
you are many and great; this is the third summons, and if you delay coming,
you and yours will find no mercy, for in three days your Castle will be
demolished, all your kindred made slaves, and you a publick example;
unless you can make your innocence appear; and the which I doubt not you
have discretion to do.—Very true nephew, replied Reynard, I will go with
you, not only to clear myself, but to the shame of my enemies; many of
which I have at court: so taking leave of his family he and Grimbard set out

for Sandem the King's Palace—On their way Reynard made the following
confession unto his nephew Grimbard; Blame me not dear cousin, if my life
be full of Care; for I strive to blot out my sins by repentance, that my soul
may be at quiet: I have grievously offended against Canticleer the Cock and
his Children; my uncle Bruin the Bear and Tibert the Cat; nay I've abused
and slandered the King and Queen; I have betrayed Isegrim the Wolf by
calling him Uncle, when he is no kin to me; I made him bind his foot to the
bell rope to teach him to ring, but the peal had like to have cost him his life;
I taught him to catch fish, by which he was sorely banged; I led him to the
parson's house to steal bacon; I stole a fine fat hen set before the priest for
his dinner, in doing which he espied and pursued me, when I was obliged to
let the hen go and creep into a hole; but the priest espying Isegrim, cried
this is he, strike! strike! So my enemies fell upon the Wolf and almost killed
him—But for all this I ask forgiveness.

Here on their way they met a Pullen, at which the Fox glanced his eye (for
the ill that was bred in the bone stuck) which Brock taking notice of, said,
Fie, dissembling Cousin why wander your eyes after the Pullin?—You
wrong me, nephew, said the Fox, my eyes wandered not; I was just saying a
Pater Noster for the Souls of the Pullens I have formerly slain; in which
devotion you hindered me.

By this time they were come to the palace, and Reynard quaked for fear, on
account of the many and great crimes he had to answer for.

Chap. 7.

Reynard's Excuse before the King his Trial and
Condemnation.
At the news of Reynard's arrival, all sorts of the King's Subjects from the
highest to the lowest, prepared themselves to accuse him—Though
Reynard's heart trembled, yet he kept his countenance, and went as proudly
and unconcerned through the streets, as though he were the King's Son, and

entirely innocent of any offence—When he came before the King, he said,
Heaven preserve your Majesty, there never came before you a more loyal
subject than myself, and so will die; I know there are several in your court
that seek my life; but I am persuaded your Majesty hates slanderers.—
Peace, traiterous Reynard, replied the King, thinkest thou to deceive me
also; Know that the peace which I commanded, you have broken; therefore,
thou Devil among the good, with what face can you pretend to love me?
when all these before me can testify against thee?—Said the Fox, my Liege,
if Bruin's crown be bloody with stealing honey; and Tibert loses her eye by
getting into the Priest's barn to steal mice; when they should have been
diligent in your majesty's embassy, can I help that? O my dread Sovereign, I
am as innocent as the Child unborn; however, use me as you please. Upon
this, Bruin the Bear, Bellin the Ram, Kaward the Hare, Isegrim the Wolf,
Bruel the Goose, Boulden the Ass, Borell the Bull, and Canticleer the Cock,
with their Children, all with one voice cried out against the Fox; all which
caused the King to order his trial to be immediately brought on.

A parliament was summoned, and after a long trial, in the course of which
the Fox answered every thing with much craft, he was condemned;
whereupon Grimbard, and the rest of his kindred left the Court, as not
enduring to see him executed. The King seeing so many depart, said,
Though Reynard had some faults, yet he had many friends. This musing of
the King made the Cat, the Bear, and the Wolf jealous lest the King should
retract Reynard's sentence, and was angry at the delay of his execution; to
forward which Tibert produced the Cord in which he was hanged in the
priests house, and they put it round Reynard's neck, who said, I do not fear
death; I saw my father die, and he soon vanished; death is familiar to me:
but I beseech your Majesties (who were both seated to see the execution) to
grant me but one request before I die; that is that I may unload my
Conscience, and beg the assistance of your prayers, that I may be made
happy hereafter.

Chap. 8.

Reynard's Confession and Pardon.
Now every one began to pity Reynard, and prevailed with the King to grant
his request; which being done he thus began; Help me ye powers above, for
I can see none but whom I have offended; in my youth I used to be much
with the lambs, delighting in their bleating, till at last biting one of them, I
tasted the Sweetness of their blood, and could not forbear ever since. This
drew me into the woods among the goats, where I slew and eat some young
Kids; this made me more hardy, so I fell to killing Hens, Geese, and other
Pullin; for all was fish that came to net. Afterwards I fell into bad company,
as Isegrim, who pretended to be my kinsman; we grew at last so intimate,
that he stole the great things and I the small; he murdered the Nobles, and I
the meaner subjects; I speak thus plainly, he had plate and jewels more than

ten carts could carry.—Ah! said the King, where is all this treasure? It was
stolen, my Liege, said the Fox, but had it not been stolen as it was, it might
have cost your Majesty's life—Discover the matter immediately, said the
Queen.—I am willing to discharge my Conscience before I die: it is true the
King was to have been killed by his own subjects, I must confess by some
of my nearest kindred; it was thus, My father digging in the ground found
the King's treasure, whereupon he was so proud, that he scorned the rest of
the beasts of the wilderness; at last he caused Tibert the Cat to go to Bruin
the Bear in the forest of Arden, to do him homage, and promised to set the
crown upon Bruin's head; then he sent for his wife, Isegrim the Wolf, and
Tibert the Cat, amongst whom it was agreed to murder your Majesty, and
make Bruin king; but it happened that my nephew Grimbard being got
drunk, discovered it to Sluggard his wife, who in great secrecy told it my
wife and she discovered it to me. It grieved me to think a ravenous Bear
should depose you; but being desirous to find out this treasure which my
father had hid, I at last by constant watching did, and I and my wife
removed it. The plot being thus carried on with secrecy, when my father
went to the cave and found his treasure all taken away, he for madness
hanged himself—All this is true, I am now ready to die, my conscience
being eased.

The King and Queen hearing this, hoping to get from Reynard this treasure,
released him from the gibbet, desiring him to discover where it lay.—Rather
you than my enemies, said the Fox—Fear not Reynard, said the Queen, the
King shall spare thy life—Madam, replied the King, will you believe, the
Fox? know you not his quality is to lie and steal? In these circumstances,
my Lord, you may believe him.—Well, Madam, for this time I will be ruled
by you, and pardon him, all his offences, with this promise, That if ever he
offends again, he and all his posterity shall be destroyed.

Chap. 9.

Reynard restored to favour and preferred.

Then said the King, Reynard, you shall do us homage; and for your
discoveries I will make you one of the Lords of my Council; discharge your
trust, and govern by truth and equity; henceforth I will be ruled by your
wisdom, and under me you shall be chief governor.

Reynard's friends thanked the King, and returned with the Fox, who was
glad he had sped so well, having caused Bruin and Tibert to be destroyed,
who sought his life.

Arriving at Malepardus there was great feasting and rejoicing at the Fox's
good fortune; after which Reynard thanked them for the love and honour
done him, protesting to be their friend and servant for ever; and so shaking
hands, they departed.

FINIS.

VALENTINE AND ORSON.
This romance is undoubtedly of French origin, and an edition of it was
printed at Lyons by Jac. Maillet in 1489, whilst one, probably as early, was
printed by Wynkyn de Worde, of which only a fragment of four leaves is in
existence. This is in the Duke of Devonshire's library, and was found in the
binding of an oak-covered volume in his library at Bolton Abbey. William
Coplande also printed two editions—one "The Hystorye of the two
Valyaunte Brethren Valentyne and Orson, sōnes vn to the Emperour of
Grece. Imprented at London ouer agaynst S. Margaretes Church in
Lothbery be William Coplande," quarto, black letter; and the other, "The
Hystorye of the two Valyaunte Brethren Valentyne and Orson Sonnes vnto
the Emperour of Greece (translated out of French by Henry Watson) Lond.
by Wylliam Coplande at the sygne of the Rose Garland," quarto—whilst in
the British Museum there are illustrations of the romance in a manuscript,
"10 E. IV. Royal," pp. 120, etc., and several beautifully printed early French
versions, notably those of Lyons, 1539, and Paris, 1540. The idea of
children being nursed by wild beasts is very common and stories of such are
told in quite modern times.

THE
HISTORY OF
Valentine and Orson.
Reader; you'll find this little Book contains
Enough to answer thy Expence and Pains;
And if with Caution you will read it thro'
'Twill both Instruct thee and Delight thee too.

Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard Bow Lane, London.

Chap. 1.

The Banishment of the Lady Bellisant who is
delivered
of Valentine and Orson at one birth in a wood.

It is recorded, That Pepin King of France had a fair sister named Bellisant,
who was married to Alexander, the Emperor of Greece, and by him carried

to his capital at Constantinople; from whence, after having lived with great
virtue, she was banished, through the means of a false accuser, whom she
had severely checked for his impudence; and though at that time she was
big with child, yet she was compelled to leave her husband's empire, to the
great regret of the people, attended only with a Squire named Blandiman.

After great fatigue and travel she arrived in the forest of Orleans, where
finding her pains come thick upon her, she dismissed her attendant for a
midwife, but before his return was delivered of two lovely children, one of
which was conveyed away by a she bear, but she, willing to save it pursued
on her hands and knees, leaving the other behind. But before her return,
King Pepin being a hunting in the forest, came to the tree where she left the
other babe, and causing it to be taken up, sent it to nurse, and when it grew
up called its name Valentine—Blandiman at length came back, and instead
of finding his mistress found her brother Pepin, at the tree, to whom he
declared all that had happened, and how his sister had been banished
through the false suggestions of the arch priest; which when King Pepin
heard he was greatly enraged against the Lady Bellisant, saying, that the
Emperor ought to have put her to death; so leaving Blandiman, he returned
with his Nobles to Paris.

The Lady Bellisant having followed the Bear to no purpose, returned to the
place where she had left the other babe, but great was her sorrow when
Blandiman said, He had seen her brother Pepin, but could tell nothing of the
child, and having comforted her for the loss of it, they went to the sea side,
took shipping, and arrived at the castle of the Giant Feragus, in Portugal.

All this while the Bear nourished the infant among her young ones, until at
length it grew up a wild hairy man, doing great mischief to all that passed
through the forest; in which we will leave him, and return to the arch Priest,
who did great mischief, till he was impeached by a merchant, of having
wrongfully accused the Empress, upon which they fought, and the merchant
conquering, made the Priest confess all his treasons, when the Emperor
acquainting the King of France of it, he was hanged.

Chap. 2.

Valentine conquers his brother Orson in the
Forest
of Orleans.

Now was Valentine grown a lusty young man, and by the King as greatly
beloved as if he had been his own child; commanding him to be taught the
use of Arms, in which he soon became so expert, that few in the Court dare
to encounter him; which made Hufray and Henry, the King's bastard sons
exceedingly envy him—At this juncture great complaints were made
against the Wild Man, from whom no Knight had escaped with his life, that
had encountered him; which made the King promise a thousand marks to
any that should bring him dead or alive, which offer none dare accept; but
Hufray and Henry desired King Pepin to send Valentine, with a view of
getting rid of so powerful a rival in the King's favour, but his Majesty
seeing their malice was very angry, telling them he had rather lose the best
Baron in the land.

However Valentine desired leave of his Majesty to go to the forest,
resolving either to conquer the wild man or die in the attempt. Accordingly
having furnished himself with a good horse and arms, he set forward on his
journey, and after two days travelling he arrived in the forest. In the evening
he tied his horse to a large spreading oak; and got up into a tree himself for
his security, where he rested that night.

Next Morning he beheld the Wild man traversing the forest in search of his
prey, and at length he came to the tree where Valentine's horse stood from
whom he pulled many hairs, upon which the horse kicked him. The Wild
man feeling the pain was going to tear him to pieces, which Valentine
seeing, made signs as if he would fight him, and accordingly he stepped
down and gave him a blow; but the Wild Man caught him by the arm and
threw him to the ground. Then taking up Valentines shield, he beheld it with
amaze, with respect to the divers colours thereon emblazoned.

Valentine being much bruised, got up, and came towards his brother in great
anger; but Orson ran to a tree and then they engaged; but both being terribly
wounded, gave out by consent; after which Valentine signified to Orson,
That if he would yield to him, he would order matters so, as he should
become a rational creature.

Orson thinking that he meant him no harm, stretched forth his hand to him.
Upon which he bound him, and then led him to Paris, where he presented
him to King Pepin, who had the Wild Man baptized by the name of Orson,
from his being taken in a wood. Orson's actions during their stay there, very
much amused the whole court, that at length the Duke of Acquitain sent
letters importing, That whoever should overthrow the Green Knight, a
Pagan Champion, should have his daughter Fazon in marriage. Upon which
proposition Valentine set out for that province, attended by his brother
Orson, by which means he came to the knowledge of his parents, as we
shall find hereafter.

Chap. 3.

The Fight between Orson and the Green Knight.
After a long journey, Valentine and Orson arrived at Duke Savary's palace
in Acquitain; and making known the reason that they came there, was
presented to Fazon, to whom Valentine thus addressed himself.

"Sweet creature, King Pepin has sent me hither with the bravest Knight in
all his realm to fight the Green Knight, who, though he is dumb and naked,
is endued with such valour, that no Knight under the sun is able to cope
with him."

During this speech she viewed Orson narrowly and he her; but Supper
coming in, interrupted them, and they sat down to eat.

Whilst they were in the midst of all their feasting, the Green Knight entered,
saying Duke Acquitain, hast thou any more Knights to cope with me for thy
daughter—Yes, replied the Duke, I have seventeen, and then shewed them
to him—The Green Knight then said to them Eat your fill, for to-morrow
will be your last—Orson hearing what he said, was much incensed against
him and suddenly rising from the table, threw the Green Knight with such

force against the wall, as laid him dead for some time; which very much
pleased the whole company.

Next day many Knights went to fight the Green Knight, but he overcame
and slew them all; till at last, Orson being armed in Valentine's armour,
came to the Green Knight's pavilion, and defying him they began the most
desperate combat as was ever heard of, and the Green Knight made so great
a stroke at him, as to cut off the top of the helmet, and half his shield,
wounded him very much. But this served only to enrage the valiant Orson,
who coming up to him on foot took hold of him, and pulling him from his
horse, got astride him, and was just going to kill him, but was prevented by
the sudden arrival of Valentine, who interceded with Orson to spare his life
on condition of his turning Christian, and acquainted King Pepin how he
was conquered.

The Green Knight having promised to perform all that was desired, they led
him prisoner to the city of Acquitain; and the Duke received them with
great joy, and offered the Lady Fazon to Orson; but he would not marry her
till his brother had won the Green Knight's sister Lady Clerimond, nor till
they had talked with the Enchanted Head of Brass to know his Parents, and
get the proper use of his tongue; which when the lady knew she was very

sorrowful, because she loved Orson, and was resolved to marry none but
him, who had so nobly conquered the Green Knight.

Chap. 4.

Valentine and Orson go in search of Lady
Clerimond,
who had the Brazen Head in her Possession.

Valentine and Orson having taken their leave of the Duke of Acquitain, and
his daughter Fazon, proceeded upon their journey, in search of the Lady
Clerimond, and at last came to a tower of burnished brass; which upon
enquiry, they discovered to be kept by Clerimond, sister to Feragus and the
defeated Green Knight, and having demanded entrance, was refused it by
the centinal who guarded the gate; which provoked Valentine to that degree,
that he ran against him with such fury, that the centinell fell down dead
immediately.

The Lady Clerimond beheld all this dispute, and seeing them brave knights
received them courteously—Valentine having presented tokens from the
Green Knight, told her, he came there for the love of her, and to discourse
with the All knowing Head, concerning their parents. After dinner, the Lady
took them by the hand, and led them to the chamber of Rantus, where the
head was placed between four pillars of pure jasper; when as they entered,
it made the following speeching to Valentine.

"Thou famous Knight of Royal extract, art called Valentine the Valiant, who
of right ought to marry the Lady Clerimond. Thou art Son to the Emperor of
Greece and the Empress Bellisant, who is now in the Castle of Feragus in
Portugal, where she has resided for twenty years, King Pepin is thine uncle,
and the Wild man thy brother; the Empress Bellisant brought ye two forth in
the forest of Orleans; he was taken away by a ravenous Bear, and thou wast
taken up by thine Uncle Pepin, who brought thee up to man's estate—
Moreover, I likewise tell thee that thy brother shall never speak till thou
cuttest the thread that grows under his tongue."

The Brazen head having ended his speech, Valentine embraced Orson, and
cut the thread which grew under his tongue; and he directly related many
surprising things. After which Valentine married Lady Clerimond, but not
before she had turned Christian.

In this Castle lived a dwarf, named Pacolet, who was an Enchanter, and by
his art had contrived a horse of wood, and in the forehead a fixed pin, by
turning of which he could convey himself to the farthest part of the world.

This enchanter flies to Portugal and informs Ferragus of his sister's nuptials,
and of her turning Christian; which so enraged him that he swore by
Mahomet he would make her rue it; and thereupon got ready his fleet, and

sailed towards the Castle of Clerimond, where when he arrived, he
concealed his malice from his sister, and also the two Knights, telling them
that he came to fetch them into Portugal, the better to solemnize their
Marriage, and he would turn Christian at their arrival at his castle; all which
they believed, and soon after embarked with him—When he had got them
on board, he ordered them to be put in irons, which so grieved his sister
Clerimond, that she would have thrown herself into the sea, had she not
been stopped.

Chap. 5.

Pacolet comforts the Ladies and delivers
Valentine
and Orson out of Prison.

When they were come to Portugal, he put Valentine and Orson in a
dungeon, fed them with bread and water, but allowed his sister Clerimond
to meet the Empress Bellisant, who had been confined twenty years in the
Castle of Feragus. She, seeing her so full of grief, comforts her, enquiring
the reason, which she told her. The Empress was mightily grieved, but
Pacolet comforted them, telling them he would release them all that
evening, the which he accordingly did in the following manner:

In the dead of the night he goes to the dungeon, where lay Valentine and
Orson, bound in chains, and touching the doors with his magical wand, they
flew open; and coming to the Knights, he released them and conducted
them to the apartment where Bellisant and Clerimond was, who were
exceedingly transported; but Pacolet hindered them from discoursing long,
by telling them they must depart before the guards of Ferrajus awaked,
which would put a stop to his proceedings. So Pacolet led them to the gates
of the Castle, and having prepared a ship, he conveyed them to Lady Fazon,
at the city of Acquitain. Next morning when Ferragus heard of their escape,
he was enraged to the last degree.

The Knights and Ladies being out of danger, soon arrived at Acquitain, to
the great joy of Lady Fazon, who was soon after married to Orson with
great solemnity; upon which tilts and tournaments were performed for
many days; but Valentine carried the prize, overthrowing at least an hundred
brave Knights.

Chap. 6.

Ferragus raises a mighty army, and lays Siege
to the City of Acquitain.

Ferragus, to be revenged on them assembled an Army, and laid close siege
to it with a vast army of Saracens, which when Duke Savary perceived, he
resolved to give them battle the very next morning, and accordingly he
sallied forth with all his forces, but venturing too far, he was taken by the
Saracens and carried to Ferragus's tent.

Now Orson was resolved to set him free, or lose his life; so putting on the
arms of a dead Saracen, he called Pacolet and went through the enemy
without being molested, until they arrived at the tent where the Duke was
confined; which done they gave him a horse, and rode to the Christian
army: on their return a general shout was made by all the army, Long live
the Duke of Acquitain; which so dismayed the Saracens, that they fled away
in confusion, and the Christians pursued them till the night obliged them to
give over.

Soon after this victory Valentine, Orson, the Ladies Bellisant, Clerimond
and Fazon, set out for Constantinople, to see the Emperor their father, after
they had taken leave of Duke Savary and his Nobles, and was received with
great joy.

At length the Emperor set out from Constantinople after taking leave of his
family, to visit a strong Castle he had in Spain.—While he was absent,
Brandiser brother to Feragus invaded the Empire with a very great army,
and at length besieged Constantinople, where lay Valentine and Orson, the
Green Knight and all the Ladies.

Valentine seeing the condition they all were in, resolved to give Brandiser
battle, and thereupon divided his army into ten battalions, commanded by
ten Knights, and sallying out of the City, began to fight with the Saracens,
who were drawn up in readiness to receive them.

In the mean time the Emperor was at sea, returning homeward, and in his
way he met a fleet going to the assistance of Brandiser, which bore upon
him with full sails: whereupon exhorting his companions to behave like
men, they made ready to receive them; and after a most bloody and
obstinate battle, the Emperor got the victory, having slain many of the
Pagans, and dispersed all their ships.

After this victory the Emperor commanded his men to put on the Arms of
the Vanquished, as he did himself, thinking thereby the better to fall upon
the beseigers, his enemies; but the Stratagem proved most fatal to him, as
we shall hereafter find.

All this while the Christians and Valentine bravely encountered Brandiser
and his men before the Walls of Constantinople, sometimes getting, and
sometimes losing ground; but at length Valentine came to the standard of
Brandiser, where an Indian King run against him with great force, but
Valentine avoided him, struck him with such fury as cleft him down the
Middle. On the other hand Orson and the Green Knight were not idle, but
with their brandished swords cut themselves a passage quite through the
Pagan army, destroying all that opposed them.

Soon after news came that a mighty fleet of Saracens were entering the
harbour; whereupon Valentine judged it necessary to go thither, and oppose
their landing, but it proved fatal; for in his fleet was the Emperor his father,
who being clad in Saracen armour, Valentine by mistake ran him quite
through the body with his spear; which when he knew, he was going to kill
himself, had not his brother and the Green Knight prevented him; but
getting an horse with an intent to lose his life, he rushed into the midst of
the enemy, overthrew all that opposed him, till he came to the Giant
Brandiser, who when he saw Valentine, encountered him so fiercely, that
both fell to the ground; but Valentine recovering, gave him a stab which
sent him to hell, to see his false prophet Mahomet—

The Pagans seeing their King dead, threw down their arms and run, and the
Christians pursued them with a mighty slaughter—At last the pursuit being
over, they returned to Constantinople and Orson acquainted the Empress of
the death of his father, but concealed by whom it was done.

Upon which it was concluded, That Valentine and Orson should govern the
Empire by turns, with their wives the ladies Fazon and Clerimond, whose
brother the Green Knight was crowned King of the Green Mountain; the
people of which were much delighted to have so brave a warrior for their
King.

Chap. 7.

Valentine dies and Orson turns Hermit.

Now Valentine being greatly vexed in mind for the death of his father,
whom he had killed out of a mistake, resolved to make a pilgrimage to the
Holy Sepulchre; and therefore taking leave of his wife Clerimond, and
giving the government of the Empire unto his brother, he departed to the
great sorrow of all, particularly his brother, Bellisant, and the fair
Clerimond.

Valentine after seven years absence returned, dressed like a poor palmer
begging victuals at the gate of his own palace; and at length, being sick, and
about to die, he called for Clerimond, and made himself known unto her, at
which she was ready to give up the ghost.

At last having recommended the care of her to his brother, and the Empress
his dear mother, and blessing them he turned on one side, and breathed out
his noble soul from his illustrious body to the great grief of all the valiant
Knights of Christendom to whom he had been a noble example, and a
generous reliever of. But Clerimond never could espouse any one, but
betook her to a single life, always lamenting the loss of her beloved
husband.

After his death, Orson governed the Empire with great wisdom and justice
for Seven Years, till at length seeing the fragile state of human affairs, he
gave the charge of his Empire, Wife and Children, to the Green Knight, and
then turning hermit, he became a resident in the forests and woods, where
after living to a great age, this magnanimous and invincible hero
surrendered up his body unto never sparing death, and his soul to the
immortal deities of whose attributes it had a true resemblance.

Thus Reader you may see that none withstand
Tho' great in valour, or in vast command
The mighty force of Death's all conquering hand.

FINIS.

FORTUNATUS.
The first notice of this romance I can find, is "Fortunatus, Augsp. zu trucken
verordnet durch J. Heybler 1509," quarto, and it seems to have been
popular, for there was a French edition, "Histoire des aventures de
Fortunatus, trad. de l'Espagn. Rouen 1656," 12mo. The earliest English
edition with an absolute date, seems to be that of Thomas Churchyarde
(1676), but it is not perfect, and consists only of ninety-five leaves. In the
British Museum is "The History of Fortunatus (Translated from the
Dutch)," black letter, quarto; but it is catalogued as doubtful whether it was
printed in London, and whether the supposed date of 1650 is correct. It is
also imperfect. The edition of 1682 is, however, perfect, and is very curious.
It is entitled, "The right, pleasant and variable trachical history of
Fortunatus, whereby a young man may learn how to behave himself in all
worldly affairs and casual chances. First penned in the Dutch tongue; there
hence abstracted and now published in English by T. C." The Chap-book
very fairly follows the romance, but of course is much condensed.

THE

History of Fortunatus

CONTAINING

Various Surprising Adventures.

Among which he acquired a Purse that
could not be emptied.

And a Hat that carried him wherever he
wished to be.

Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard. Bow Lane.
London.

Chap. 1.

Of the Birth of Fortunatus.
In the famous Isle of Cyprus there is a stately city called Famagosta, in
which lived a wealthy citizen named Theodorus. He, being left young by his
parents, addicted himself to all manner of pleasures, often frequenting the
Courts of princes, where he soon wasted great part of his wealth in riotous
living, to the grief of his friends, who thinking to make him leave his idle
courses, got him married to a rich citizen's daughter named Gratiana with
whom he lived virtuously for some time.

In one year after his Marriage, Gratiana was brought to bed of a son, who
was named Fortunatus—Theodorus in a short time began to follow his old
bad courses, insomuch that he began to sell and mortgage all his estate, so
that he fell into extreme poverty; Gratiana being forced to dress her meat
and wash her clothes herself, not being able now to keep one single servant,
or hire the meanest assistance.

Theodorus and his wife sitting one day at a poor dinner, he could hardly
refrain weeping, which his son, (who was now about eighteen years old,
and experienced in hunting, hawking, and playing the lute,) perceiving, he
said Father, what aileth you? for I observe, when you look upon me, you
seem sad; Sir, I fear I have some way offended you—Theodorus answered,
My dear Son, thou art not the cause of my grief, but my self has been the
sole cause of the pinching poverty we all feel. When I call to mind the
wealth and honour I so lately enjoyed, and when I consider how unable I
am now to succour my child, it is that which vexeth me.—To this his son
replied—Beloved father, do not take immoderate care for me, for I am
young and strong. I have not been so brought up but I can shift for myself; I
will go abroad and try my fortune; I fear not but I shall find employment
and preferment.

Soon after without the least ceremony, Fortunatus set out with a hawk in his
hand, and travelled towards the sea side where he espied a galley of Venice
lying at anchor. He inquired what ship she was and where bound, hoping he
might here find employment. He was told the Earl of Flanders was on
board, and had lost two of his men. Fortunatus wishing that he could be
entertained as one of his servants, and so get away from his native place,
where his poverty was so well known, steps up to the Earl, and making a
low bow, says, I understand, noble Lord, you have lost two of your men, so,
if you please, I desire to be received into your service. What wages do you
ask? says the Earl. No wages, replied Fortunatus, but to be rewarded
according to my deserts. This answer pleased the Earl, so they agreed and
sailed to Venice.

Chap. 2.

Of Fortunatus's sailing with the Earl of
Flanders,
without the knowledge of his parents.

The Earl was now returned back and joyfully received by his subjects, and
welcomed by his neighbours; for he was a very affable and just Prince.

Soon after his return, he married the Duke of Cleve's daughter, who was a
very beautiful lady; Fortunatus went to the wedding, to which came several
Lords and Gentlemen, and were present at a tilt and tournament held there
before the Ladies; and though there was so many gentlemen, yet none
behaved so well as Fortunatus—After all the Nobles had finished their
triumphs and delightful games, the Duke and the bride and bridegroom
agreed to let their servants try their manhood at several pastimes for two
Jewels, each to be esteemed worth an hundred crowns, and he that obtained
the said prize should have it, which made all the servants glad, every one
striving to do his best. The Duke of Burgundy's servants won one, and
Fortunatus the other, which displeased the other servants. Upon which they
desired the Duke's Servants to challenge Fortunatus to fight him before the
ladies, which should have them both; which challenge he accepted. Coming
to the tilt yard, they encountered each other very briskly, and at last
Fortunatus hoisted the Duke's servant quite off his horse at spears length.
Whereupon he obtained the victory, and got the Jewels, which encreased the
envy of the other servants, but much rejoiced the Earl.

Among the Earl's servants was a crafty old fellow who consulted with the
rest of the servants, and agreed for ten crowns to make Fortunatus quit his
master's service of his own accord. To accomplish the affair, he pretended
great friendship to Fortunatus, treating him and praising him much for his
great courage. At last he told him he had a secret to reveal to him, which
was, That the Lord having conceived a Jealousy of his two Chamberlains,
of whom Fortunatus was one, he had a design secretly to kill them. This
much amazed Fortunatus, who desired his fellow servant to inform him
how to convey himself away; for said he I had rather wander as a vagabond
than stay here and be slain. Says Robert, I am sorry I told thee any thing
since I shall now lose thy company. Being resolved to go off, he desired
Robert to conceal his departure.

When Fortunatus had rode ten Miles, he bought another horse, and returned
the Earl's, that he might not pursue him; but when the Earl found he was
gone, without his leave, not knowing the cause, he was offended, and
demanded of the servants if they knew the occasion? which they all denied;

and he went to the ladies and gentlemen, and enquired of them if they knew
any thing of his departure? and they answered No. Then said the Earl,
Though the cause of his departure is concealed from me, yet I am
perswaded he is not gone without some cause, which I will find out if it be
possible.

When Robert found his Lord was so vexed for the loss of Fortunatus, he
went and hanged himself, for fear of being discovered.

Chap. 3.

Of the Travels of Fortunatus after he left his
Master.
Fortunatus having sent home his master's horse, travelled with all speed to
Calais, where he took shipping and arrived safe in England—Coming to
London, he met with some young Cyprus Merchants, his countrymen, who
riotously spent his money in gaming and wenching; so that in about half a
years time their cash was quite spent. Fortunatus having least his was
soonest exhausted. Being moneyless, he went to some of his Landladies to
borrow three Crowns, telling them he wanted to go to Flanders, to fetch
four hundred crowns that were in his uncle's hands; but he was denied, and
none they would lend him. He then desired to be trusted a quart of wine, but
they refused, and bid the servants fetch him a pint of small beer.

He then took shipping, and soon arrived at Piccardy in France. Travelling
through a wood, and being benighted, he made up to an old house, where he
hoped to find some relief, but there was no creature in it; Then hearing a
noise among the Bears, he got up into a tree where one of them had
climbed. Fortunatus being surprised, drew his sword, and stuck the bear,
that he fell from the tree.

The rest of the beasts being gone, Fortunatus came down from the tree, and
laying his mouth to the wound, he sucked out some of the blood, with
which he was refreshed; and then slept until the Morning.

Chap. 4.

Lady Fortune bestows upon Fortunatus a famous
Purse;
so that afterwards he never wanted Money.

As soon as Fortunatus awoke, he saw standing before him a fair Lady with
her eyes muffled—I beseech thee said he, sweet virgin, for the love of God
to assist me, that I may get out of this wood, for I have travelled a great way
without food. She asked what country he was of? he replied Of Cyprus, and
I am constrained by poverty to seek my fortune—Fear not, Fortunatus, said
she, I am the Goddess of Fortune, and by permission of heaven have the
power of Six gifts, one of which I will bestow on thee, so chuse for
yourself: they are, Wisdom, Strength, Riches, Health, Beauty, and Long
Life—Said Fortunatus, I desire to have Riches, as long as I live. With that
she gave him a purse, saying, As often as you put your hand into this purse,
you shall find ten pounds of the coin of any nation thou shalt happen to be
in.

Fortunatus returned many thanks to the Goddess. Then she bid him follow
her out of the wood, and so vanished. He then put his hands in his purse,
and drew out the first fruits of the Goddess's bounty, with which he went to
an inn and refreshed himself. After which he paid his host, and instantly
departed, as doubting the reality of his money, notwithstanding the evidence
of his hands and eyes.

Chap. 5.

Fortunatus buys some Horses out of an Earls
Hands;
for which he is taken up and examined about his
Purse.
Two miles from this wood was a little town and castle, where dwelt an Earl,
who owned the wood.—Fortunatus here took up his lodgings at the best
inn, and asked the host if he could help him to some good horses—The host
told him there was a dealer, who had several fine ones, of which the Earl
had chosen three, but was refused though he offered three hundred crowns
for them. Fortunatus went to his Chamber and took out of his purse six

hundred crowns, and bid the host to send for the dealer with his horses—
The host at first supposed he had been in Jest, seeing him so meanly
apparelled; but on being convinced by the sight of the money, the dealer
and horses were sent for, and Fortunatus with a few words bargained for
two of those the Earl had cheapened, and gave three hundred crowns for
them. He bought also costly saddles and furniture, and desired his host to
get him two servants.

The Earl hearing that the two horses had been bought out of his hands, grew
angry, and sent to the innkeeper to be informed who he was—The Earl
being told he was a stranger, commanded him to be apprehended, imagining
he had committed some robbery, and being examined who he was,
answered, He was born in Cyprus, and was the son of a decayed gentleman.
The Earl asked him how he got so much money? He told him he came by it
honestly—Then the Earl swore in a violent passion, that if he would not
discover, he would put him to the rack.—Fortunatus proposed to die rather
than reveal it.—Upon this he was put upon the rack, and being again asked
how he got so many crowns, he said he found them in a wood adjoining.—
Thou villain, said the Earl the money found is mine, and thy body and
goods are forfeited. O, my gracious Lord, said he, I knew not it was in your
jurisdiction—But said the Earl, this shall not excuse you, for to day I will
take thy goods, and tomorrow thy life.

Then did Fortunatus wish he had chose Wisdom before Riches.

Then Fortunatus earnestly begged his life of the Earl, who at the entreaty of
some of his nobles spared his life and restored him the crowns and the
purse, and charged him never to come into his jurisdiction—Fortunatus
rejoiced that he had so well escaped, and had not lost his Purse.

After that he had travelled towards his own country, having got horses and
servants to attend him, he arrived at Famagosta, where it was told him that
his father and mother were dead. He then purchased his fathers house, and
pulled it down, and built a stately palace. He also built a fine Church, and
had three tombs made, one for his father and mother, the other for the wife
which he intended to marry, and the last for his heirs and himself.

Chap. 6.

Of Fortunatus's Marriage with Lord Nemains
youngest Daughter.

Not far from Famagosta lived a Lord who had three daughters; one of
which the King of Cyprus intended to bestow on Fortunatus: but gave him
leave to take his choice. When Fortunatus had asked them some questions,
he chose the youngest, to the great grief of the other two sisters; but the
Countess and Earl approved the match. Fortunatus presented the Countess
her mother, and her two sisters, with several rich jewels.

Then did the King proffer to keep the wedding at his court, but Fortunatus
desired to keep it at his own palace, desiring the King and Queen's
Company—Then said the King, I'll come with my Queen and all my
relations—After four days the King and all his Company went to
Fortunatus's house where they were entertained in a grand manner. His
house was adorned with costly furniture, glorious to behold. This feasting
lasted forty days. Then the king returned to his Court, vastly well satisfied

with the entertainment.—After this, Fortunatus made another feast for the
citizens, their wives and daughters.

Chap. 7.

Of Fortunatus having two Sons by his Wife.
Fortunatus and his Wife Cassandra lived long in a happy state, and found no
want of any thing but Children; and he knew the virtues of his purse would
fail at his death, if he had no lawfully begotten heirs; therefore he made it
constantly the petition in his prayers to God, that he would be pleased to
send him an heir; and at length, in due time his lady brought forth a son,
and he named him Ampedo. Shortly after she had another son, for whom he
provided the best of tutors to take care they had an education suitable to
their fortunes.

Fortunatus having been married twelve years, took it into his head to travel
once more, which his wife much opposed, desiring him, by all the love he
bore to her and to her dear children, not to leave them, but he was resolved,
and soon after took leave of his wife and Children, promising to return
again in a short space. A few days after, he took shipping for Alexandria,
where having stayed some time, and got acquainted with the Soldan, he
gained such favour of him, as to receive letters to carry him safe through his
dominions.

Chap. 8.

Fortunatus artfully gets possession of a Wishing
Hat.
Fortunatus after supper, opened his Purse, and gave to all the Soldan's
servants very liberally. The Soldan being highly pleased, told Fortunatus he
would shew him such curiosities as he had never seen. Then he took him to
a strong marble tower, in the first room were several very rich vessels and
jewels; in the second he shewed several vessels of gold coin; with a fine
wardrobe of garments, and golden candlesticks, which shined all over the
room, and mightily pleased Fortunatus.—Then the Soldan shewed him his
bed chamber, which was finely adorned, and likewise a small felt Hat,
simple to behold, saying I set more value on this Hat, than all my jewels, as
such another is not to be had; for it lets a person be wherever he doth wish.
Fortunatus imagined his Hat would agree very well with his Purse, and
thereupon put it on his head saying. He should be very glad of a Hat that
had such virtues. So the Soldan immediately gave it him; With that he
suddenly wished himself in his ship, it being then under Sail, that he might
return to his own country. The Soldan looking out at his window, and seeing
the Ship under sail, was very angry, and commanded his men to fetch him
back; declaring, if they took him, he should immediately be put to death.
But Fortunatus was too quick for them, and arriving safe at Famagosta, very
richly laden, was joyfully received by his wife, his two sons and the

Citizens.—He now began to tender the advancement of his children; he
maintained a princely court, providing masters to instruct his children in all
manner of chivalry, whereof the youngest was most inclined to behave
manfully, which caused Fortunatus to bestow many Jewels for his exploits.
When he had many years employed all earthly pleasures, Cassandra died,
which so grieved Fortunatus, that he prepared himself for death also.

Chap. 9.

Fortunatus declares the Virtues of his Hat and
Purse to his Son.
Fortunatus perceiving his death to approach, said to his two sons, God has
taken away your mother, which so tenderly nourished you; and I perceiving
death at hand, will shew you how ye may continue in honour unto your
dying day.—Then he declared to them the virtues of his Purse, and that it
would last no longer than their lives. He also told them the virtues of his
Wishing Hat, and commanding them not to part with those Jewels, but to

keep them in common, and live friendly together, and not to make any
person privy to their virtues; for, said he I have concealed them forty years,
and never revealed them to any but you.—Having said this, he ceased to
speak, and immediately gave up the ghost.—His sons buried him in the
magnificent church before mentioned.

FINIS.

GUY, EARL OF WARWICK.
The earliest known printed edition of this romance is French, "Cy
commence Guy de Waruich, chevalier d'Angleterre, qui en son temps fit
plusieurs prouesses et conquestes en Angleterre, en Allemaigne, Ytalie et
Dannemarche, et aussi sur les infidelles ennemys de la chrestieneté. Par Fr.
Regnault, 7 Mars 1525," small folio, Gothic letter; and Ebert mentions an
earlier undated edition. Hazlitt says the Bodleian library possesses a
fragment of one leaf, containing thirty lines on a page, and printed with the
types of Wynkyn de Worde's "Memorare Novissima." In Notes and Queries,
2nd Series, vol. x. p. 46, E. F. B. writes: "On recently examining a copy of
the Sarum Ordinale edited by Master Clerke, Chantor of King's Coll.
Cambridge, and printed by Pynson in 1501, I found three fly leaves of a
book of earlier date, respecting which I should be glad to be informed; and
therefore I subjoin a passage by which it may or may not be identified with
the romance of Sir Guy. The type is of the Gothic character.

"Wyth that the lumbardis fledde away
Guy Guy and heraude and terrey pfay
Chased after theym gode wone,
They slowe and toke many one,
The Lumbardis made sory crye.
For they were on the worse partye,
Of this toke duke otton gode hede,
And fledde to an hylle gode spede;
That none sued of theym echone,
But syr heraude of arderne alone,
Heraude hym sued as an egyr lyon
And euer he cryed on duke otton,
Heraude had of hym no doubte,
Nor he sawe no man ferre aboute,
But only theymselfe two."

The earliest copy in the British Museum is 1560?, "The Booke of the most
victoryous Prince Guy of Warwicke," and it was "Imprynted at London in
Lothbury, ouer agaynst saynt Margarits Church, by Wylliam Copland,"
quarto, imperfect. This is in verse, beginning—

"Sithen the tyme that God was borne
And Chrisendom was set and sworne
Many aduentures haue befall
The which that men knew not all."

There is a fine fourteenth-century illumination in the royal manuscripts in
the British Museum (20 A. ii. fo. 4b) of Guy as a hermit.

The mute witnesses of Guy's wonderful deeds, preserved in Warwick
Castle, have been proved apocryphal in these investigating and matter-of-
fact days. His breastplate, or helmet, is the "croupe" of a suit of horse
armour; another breastplate is a "poitrel." His famous porridge-pot or
punch-bowl is a garrison crock of the sixteenth century, and his fork a
military fork, temp. Henry VIII.

THE

HISTORY

OF

Guy. Earl of Warwick

Printed and sold in Aldermary Church
Yard, London.

Chap. 1.

Guy's Praise. He falls in love with the Fair
Phillis.

In the blessed time when Athelstone wore the crown of the English nation,
Sir Guy, Warwick's Mirror, and all the world's wonder, was the chief hero of
the age; whose prowess so surpassed all his predecessors, that the trump of
fame so loudly sounded Warwick's praise, that Jews, Turks, and Infidels
became acquainted with his name.

But as Mars the God of Battle was inspired with the beauty of Venus, so our
Guy, by no means conquered, was conquered by love; for Phillis the fair,
whose beauty and virtue was inestimable, shining with such heavenly lustre
that Guy's poor heart was ravished in adoration of this heavenly Phillis,
whose beauty was so excellent, that Helen the pride of all Greece, might
seem as a Black, a Moor to her.

Guy resolving not to stand doating at a distance, went to Warwick Castle,
where Phillis dwelt, being daughter and heiress to the Earl of Warwick; the
Earl, her father hearing of Guy's coming, entertained him with great joy;
after some time the Earl invited Guy to go a hunting with him; but finding
himself unable to partake of the diversion, feigned himself sick. The Earl

troubled for his friend Guy, sent his own Physician to him. The Doctor told
Guy his disease was dangerous, and without letting blood there was no
remedy. Guy replied, I know my body is distempered; but you want skill to
cure the inward inflammation of my heart; Galen's herbal cannot quote the
flower I like for my remedy. I know my own disease, Doctor, and I am
obliged to you.

The Doctor departed, and left Guy to cast his eyes on the heavenly face of
his Phillis, as she was walking in a garden full of roses and other flowers.

Chap. 2.
Guy Courts the fair Phillis, she at first denies,
but
after grants his Suit on Conditions which he
accepts.

Guy immediately advanced to fair Phillis, who was reposing herself in an
arbour, and saluted her with bended knees, All hail, fair Phillis, flower of
beauty, and jewel of virtue, I know great princes seek to win thy love,
whose exquisite perfections might grace the mightiest monarch in the
world; yet may they come short of Guy's real affection, in whom love is
pictured with naked truth and honesty, disdain me not for being a steward's
son, one of thy father's servants.

Phillis interrupted him saying, Cease, bold youth, leave off this passionate
address:—You are but young and meanly born, and unfit for my degree; I
would not that my father should know this.

Guy, thus discomfited, lived like one distracted, wringing his hands,
resolving to travel through the world to gain the love of Phillis, or death to
end his misery. Long may dame Fortune frown, but when her course is run
she sends a smile to cure the hearts that have been wounded by her frowns;
so Cupid sent a powerful dart, representing to her a worthy Knight of
Chivalry, saying, This Knight shall be so famous in the world, that his
actions shall crown everlasting posterity. When Phillis found herself
wounded, she cried, O pity me gentle Cupid, sollicit for me to my Mother,
and I will offer myself up at thy shrine.

Guy, little dreaming of this so sudden a thaw, and wanting the balm of love
to apply to his sores, resolves to make a second encounter. So coming again
to his Phillis, said, fair Lady, I have been arraigned long ago, and now am
come to receive my just sentence from the Tribunal of Love; It is life or
death, fair Phillis, I look for, let me not languish in despair, give Judgment,
O ye fair, give Judgment, that I may know my doom; a word from thy
sacred lips can cure a bleeding heart, or a frown can doom me to the pit of

misery. Gentle Guy, said she, I am not at my own disposal, you know my
father's name is great in the nation, and I dare not match without his
consent.

Sweet Lady, said Guy, I make no doubt, but quickly to obtain his love and
favour; let me have thy love first, fair Phillis, and there is no fear of thy
father's wrath preventing us. It is an old saying, Get the good will of the
daughter, and that of the parent will soon follow.

Sir Guy, quoth Phillis, make thy bold achievements and noble actions shine
abroad, glorious as the sun, that all opposers may tremble at thy high
applauded name and then thy suit cannot be denied.

Fair Phillis, said Guy, I ask no more.—Never did the hound mind more his
game, than I do this my new enterprize. Phillis, take thy farewell, and
accept of this kiss as the signal of my heart.

Chap. 3.

Guy wins the Emperor's Daughter from several
Princes,
He is set upon by Sixteen Assassins, whom he
overcomes.

Thus noble Guy at last disengaged from Love's cruelty, he now arms
himself like a Knight of Chivalry, and crossing the raging ocean, he quickly
arrived at the Court of Thrace, where he heard that the Emperor of Almain's
fair daughter Blanch, was to be made a prize for him that won her in the
field, upon which account the worthies of the world assembled to try their
fortunes—The golden trumpets sounded with great joy and triumph, and the
stately pampered steeds prance over the ground, and each He there thought
himself a Cæsar, that none could equal;—Kings and Princes being there to
behold who should be the conqueror, everyone thinking that fair Blanch
should be his.

After desperate charging with horse and man, much blood was shed, and
Princes no more valued than common persons; but our noble Guy appearing
laid about him like a lion, among the princes; here lay one headless, another
without a leg or an arm, and there a horse. Guy, still like Hercules, charged
desperately and killed a German Prince and his horse under him. Duke Otto
vowing revenge upon our English Champion, gave Guy a fresh assault, but
his courage soon cooled. Then Duke Poyner would engage our favourite
knight; but with as little success as the rest, so that no man could encounter
Guy any more; by which valor he won the Lady in the field as a prize, being
thus approved Conqueror.

The Emperor being himself a spectator, he sent a messenger for our English
Knight.—Guy immediately came into the Emperor's presence, and made his
obeysance, when the Emperor as a token of his affection, gave him his hand
to kiss and withal resigned him his daughter, the falcon and the hound—
Guy thanked his Majesty for his gracious favour, but for fair Phillis's sake
left fair Blanch to her father's tuition, and departed from that graceful court
only with the other tokens of victory.

Now Guy beginning to meditate upon his long absence from his fair Phillis,
and doubting of her prosperity, or that she might too much forget him,
because the proverb says, Out of Sight out of Mind! prepared for England,
and at last arrived at the long wished for haven of his love; and with this
sort of salutation greeted his beloved mistress; Fair foe, said he, I am now
come to challenge your promise, the which was, upon my making my name
famous by martial deeds, I should be the master of my beloved mistress,—
Behold, fair Phillis, part of the prize I have won in the field before kings
and princes.

Worthy Knight, quoth Phillis, I have heard of thy winning the Lady Blanch
from Royal Dukes and Princes, and I am glad to find that Guy is so
victorious. But, indeed Guy thou must seek more adventures.

Guy, discomfited at this answer, taking leave of his fair Phillis, clad himself
again in Belona's livery, and travelled towards Sedgwin, Duke of Nouvain,
against whom the Emperor of Almain had then laid siege. But as Guy was
going his intended journey, Duke Otto, whom Guy had disgraced in battle,
hired sixteen base traytors to slay him. Guy being set upon by these rogues,
drew his sword, and fought till he had slain them all; and leaving their
carcasses to the fowls of the air, he pursued his Journey to Louvain, which
he found close besieged, and little resistance could the Duke make against

the Emperor's power—Guy caused the Levinians to sally forth, and made a
most bloody slaughter among the Almains; but the Emperor gathering more
forces renewed the siege, thinking to starve them out; but Guy in another
sally defeated the Almains, slaying in these two battles about thirteen
thousand men.

After this Guy made a perfect league between the Emperor and the Duke,
gaining more praise thereby than by his former victories.

Chap. 4.

Guy having performed great Wonders Abroad,
returns
to England, and is married to Philis.

After a tedious journey Guy sat down by a spring to refresh himself, and he
soon heard a hedious noice, and presently espied a Lion and a Dragon
fighting, biting, and tearing each other; but Guy perceiving the Lion ready
to faint, encountered the Dragon, and soon brought the ugly Cerberes
roaring and yelling to the ground.—The Lion in gratitude to Guy, run by his
horse's side like a true-born spaniel, till lack of food made him retire to his
wonted abode.

Soon after Guy met with the Earl of Terry, whose father was confined in his
castle by Duke Otto; but he and the Lord posted thither, and freed the castle
immediately; and Guy in an open field slew Duke Otto hand to hand; but
his dying words of repentance moved Guy to pity and remorse.

But as Guy returned through a desart he met a furious boar that had slain
many Christians. Guy manfully drew his sword and the boar gaping,
intending with his dreadful tusks to devour our noble champion; but Guy
run it down his throat, and slew the greatest boar that ever Man beheld.

At Guy's arrival in England, he immediately repaired to King Athelstone at
York, where the King told Guy of a mighty Dragon in Northumberland, that
destroyed men, women, and children.—Guy desired a guide, and went
immediately to the dragon's cave, when out came the monster, with eyes
like a flaming fire: Guy charged him courageously, but the monster bit the
lance in two like a reed; then Guy drew his sword, and cut such gashes in
the dragon's sides that the blood and life poured out of his venemous
carecase. Then Guy cut off the head of the monster, and presented it to the
King, who in the memory of Guy's service caused the picture of the Dragon,
being thirty feet in length to be worked in a cloth of arras, and hung up in
Warwick Castle for an everlasting monument.

Phillis hearing of Guy's return and success, came as far as Lincoln to meet
him, where they were married with much joy and great triumph; King
Athelstone, his Queen, the chief Nobles and Barons of the land being
present.

No sooner were their nuptials celebrated but Phillis's father died, leaving all
his estate to Sir Guy; and the King made him Earl of Warwick.

Chap. 5.

Guy leaves his wife and goes a pilgrimage to the
Holy land.
In the very height of Guy's glory, being exalted to his father's dignities,
Conscience biddeth him repent of all his former sins, and his youthful time;
so Guy resolved to travel to the Holy Land like a Pilgrim. Phillis perceiving
this sudden alteration enquires of her Lord what was the cause of this
Passion? Ah! Phillis, said he, I have spent much time in honouring thee, and
to win thy favour, but never spared one minute for my soul's health in
honouring the Lord.

Phillis, though very much grieved, understanding his determination,
opposed not his will. So with exchanging their rings, and melting kisses, he
departed like a stranger from his own habitation, taking neither money nor
scrip with him, and but a small quantity of herbs and roots, such only as the
wild fields could afford, were his chief diet; vowing never to fight more but
in a just cause.

Guy, after travelling many tedious miles, met an aged person oppressed
with grief, for the loss of fifteen sons, whom Armarant a mighty Giant had
taken from him, and held in strong captivity. Guy borrowed the old mans
sword, and went directly up to the Castle gate, where the Giant dwelt, who,
coming to the door, asked grimly, How he durst so boldly knock at the
gates? vowing he would beat his brains out. But Guy laughing at him, said,
Sirrah, thou art quarrelsome; but I have a sword has often hewn such
lubbards as you asunder:—At the same time laying his blade about the
Giant's shoulders, that he bled abundantly, who being much enraged, flung
his club at Guy with such force, that it beat him down; and before Guy
could recover his fall Armarant had got up his club again. But in the end
Guy killed this broad back dog, and released divers captives that had been
in thrawldom a long time, some almost famished, and others ready to expire
under various tortures. They returned Guy thanks for their happy
deliverance; after which he gave up the castle and keys to the old man and
his fifteen sons.

Guy pursued his intended journey and coming to a grave, he took up a
worm-eaten skull, which he thus addressed:—Perhaps thou wert a Prince,
or a mighty Monarch, a King, a Duke, or a Lord!—But the King and the
Beggar must all return to the earth; and therefore man had need to

remember his dying hour. Perhaps thou mightest have been a Queen, or a
Dutchess, or a Lady varnished with much beauty; but now thou art worm's
meat, lying in the grave, the Sepolchre of all creatures.

While Guy was in this repenting solilude, fair Phillis, like a mourning
widow, cloathed herself in sable attire, and vowed chastity in the absence of
her beloved husband. Her whole delight was in divine meditations and
heavenly consolations, praying for the welfare of her beloved Lord, fearing
some savage monster had devoured him.—Thus Phillis spent the remainder
of her life in sorrow for her dear Lord; and to shew her humility she sold
her Jewels and costly robes, with which she used to grace King Athelstones
Court, and gave the money freely to the poor; she relieved the lame and the
blind, the widow and the fatherless, and all those that came to ask alms;
building a large hospital for aged and sick people that they may be
comforted in their sickness and weak condition. And according to this rule
she laid up treasure in heaven, which will be paid again with life
everlasting.

Meantime Guy travelled through many lands and nations; at last in his
Journey he met the Earl of Terry, who had been exiled from his territories
by a merciless traytor. Guy bid him not be dismayed, and promised to
venture his life for his restoration. The Earl thanked Guy most courteously,
and they travelled together against Terry's enemy. Guy challenged him into
the field, and then slew him hand to hand, and restored to the Earl his lands.

The Earl begged to know the name of his Champion, but Guy insisted to
remain in secret, neither would he take any gratuity for his services.

Thus was the noble Guy successful in all his actions, and finding his head
crowned with silver hairs, after many years travel, he resolved to lay his
aged body in his native country, and therefore returning from the Holy
Land, he came to England, where he found the nation in great distress, the
Danes having invaded the land, burning Cities and towns, plundering the
country, and killing men, women and children; insomuch that King
Athelstone was forced to take refuge in his invincible city of Winchester.

Chap. 6.

Guy fights with the Giant Colborn, and having
overcome
him, discovers himself to the King, then to
his Wife, and dies in her Arms.

The Danes having intelligence of King Athelstone's retreat to Winchester,
drew all their forces hither, and seeing there was no way to win the City,
they sent a summons to King Athelstone desiring that an Englishman might
combat with a Dane, and that side to lose the whole whose champion was
defeated.

On this the mighty Colborn singled himself from the Danes, and entered
upon Morn Hill, near Winchester, breathing venemous words, calling the
English cowardly dogs, that he would make their carcasses food for ravens.

What mighty boasting said he, hath there been in the foreign nations, of
these English Cowards, as if they had done deeds of wonder, who now like
foxes hide their heads.

Guy hearing proud Colborn could no longer forbear, but went immediately
to the King, and on his knee begged a Combat; the King liking the courage
of the pilgrim bid him go and prosper. Guy walking out of the North Gate to
Morn Hill, where Colborn, the Danish Champion was—When Colborn
espied Guy he disdained him, saying, Art thou the best Champion England
can afford? Quoth Guy, it is unbecoming a professed champion to rail, my
sword shall be my Orator. No longer they stood to parley, but with great
Courage fought most Manfully, but Guy was so nimble, that in vain
Colborn struck for every blow, fell upon the ground. Guy still laid about
him like a dragon, which gave great encouragement to the English; but
Colborn in the end growing faint, Guy brought the giant to the ground;
upon which the English all shouted with so much Joy, that peals of ecchoes

rung in the air—After this battle the Danes retired back again to their own
Country.

King Athelstone sent for this Champion to honour him, but Guy refused
honours, saying, My Liege, I am a mortal man, and have set the vain world
at defiance. But at the King's earnest request, on promise of concealment,
Guy discovered himself to him, which rejoiced his heart, and he embraced
his worthy champion; but Guy took leave of his sovereign, and went into
the fields where he made a cave living very pensive and solitary; and
finding his hour draw nigh, he sent a messenger to Phillis, at the sight of
which she hasted to her Lord, where with weeping joy they embraced each
other—Guy departed this life in her tender arms, and was honourably
interred.

His widow grieving at his death died 15 days after him.

THEIR EPITAPH.

Under this marble lies a pair,
Scarce such another in the world there are.
Like him so valiant or like her so fair,

His actions thro' the world have spread his fame,
And to the highest honours rais'd his name.
For conjugal affection and chaste love,
She's only equal'd by the blest above,
Below they all perfections did possess,
And now enjoy consummate happiness.

FINIS.

THE FAMOUS
HISTORY
OF

G U Y E A R L O F WA R W I C K

Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.

The letter-press in this Chap-book is nearly identical with the previous one,
but there are two engravings which the other lacks.

GUY AND THE NORTHUMBRIAN DRAGON.

GUY HAVING SLAIN ARMARANT.

THE HISTORY

OF THE

L I F E A N D D E AT H

OF THAT NOBLE KNIGHT

SIR BEVIS

OF

SOUTHAMPTON

Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.

According to Ebert, the French editions of this romance are very early; he
quotes two, "Le livre de Beufoes de Hantonne et de la Belle Josienne sa
mye. Par. Verard." no date, folio, G.L., and "Beufues Danthonne
nouvellement imprimé a Paris. Par le Noir 1502," small folio, Gothic letter;
whilst the British Museum possesses an earlier Italian book on the subject,
"Buovo de Antona di Guidone Palladius Rezunto & reuisto. Caligula di
Bazalieri. Bologna 1497," octavo, Gothic letter. The Bodleian Library
possesses a very early English copy of "Sir Beuys of Hamton," "Emprynted
by Rycharde Pynson in Flete-strete at the Sygne of the George," quarto,
black letter; and Hazlitt says there also is a fragment of two leaves by
Wynkyn de Worde, printed with the same types as the "Memorare
Novissima."

The frontispiece is an engraving belonging to an edition of 1690. Sir Bevis
was born in the reign of Edgar, and his parents were Sir Guy of
Southampton, and a daughter of the King of Scotland, who was desperately
in love with Sir Murdure, brother of the Emperor of Almaine. She managed
to keep up appearances for some years after the birth of Bevis, until her
passion for Sir Murdure became uncontrollable, and she sent a message to
him to come over to England and slay her husband. He obeyed, and with his
men lay in wait for Sir Guy, who was hunting for a wild boar for his wife.
They assaulted him, and, after a desperate resistance on his part, killed him,
and Sir Murdure was received joyfully by the false wife, and duly installed
in her husband's stead. Naturally, Bevis was wroth, and having expressed
his opinion freely, was duly hated by his mother, who sent to Sir Sabere, her
husband's brother, to privately murder him. Sir Sabere, however, dressed
him in old clothes and put him to keep sheep, whilst he showed Bevis's
blood-stained garments, as a token of having killed him. However, the
impulsive Bevis could not brook the situation, but went to the castle, crook
in hand, and with it knocked Sir Murdure under the table, and would have
murdered his mother, had not better thoughts prevailed. His mother was
furious, and ordered Sir Sabere and another knight to cast him into the sea,
which they promised to do; but meeting with merchants of Armony, they
sold Bevis to them.

The merchants presented him to the king (Ermine), who was prepossessed
with his looks, and on questioning him, remembered having heard of the
prowess of his father Sir Guy. "I have but one fair Daughter, said the King,
and if thou wilt forsake thy God, and serve Apoline our God, thou shalt
have my Daughter to Wife, and enjoy my Kingdom after me. Not so, my
Lord, said Bevis, for all the Beauties in the World, I would not deny my
Creator; Then, said the King, wilt thou be my Chamberlain, and when I find
thy Desert, I'll dub thee a Knight, and thou shalt bear my Standard in the
Field against my Foes. What you please to command me, my Lord, said he,
save the denying of my God, I will do.

"Bevis was so beloved of the king that none durst speak against him; nay
Josian the King's daughter was in love with him." But it happened, one
Christmas Day, Bevis met sixty Saracens, who, taunting him with his
religion, he encountered, and slew them all. At which the king swore he

should die. But Josian on her knees begged his life, which was granted; she
dressed his wounds, nursed him, and he was in as great favour as ever.

He next, after many difficulties, slew a mighty wild boar of cannibal
propensities, and won great honour thereby.

Josian must have been fair indeed, for, all through the story, Bevis is
perpetually getting into trouble through her fatal beauty. It now happened to
have attracted King Brandmond, who sent to King Ermine demanding her
hand, or he would depose him. The nobles were for yielding; but Josian
suggested that if Bevis were made general, and invested with command,
things would speedily be righted. This was done; he was dubbed knight, and
Josian armed him, and gave him a sword, Morglay, and a wonderful steed,
Arundel. He defeated Brandmond, and took him prisoner. "So Bevis
returned with great Victory and was royally entertained by the King, and
then Josian broke her mind to Bevis; quoth she, by Mahomed, I do desire to
be thy Love: Not so, Lady, said Bevis, I'll wed no Heatheness; which words
she took very scornfully." But her love prevailed, and she went to Bevis,
offering to do anything, even turn Christian, could she but win his love. Sir
Bevis could only act as he did—take her in his arms, and kiss her. Her
speech and behaviour being reported to the king, he was mad, and wrote
letters to Brandmond, to put Sir Bevis to death, and gave them to him, to be
the unconscious bearer of his own death-warrant.

Meanwhile, Sir Sabere had sent his son, Terry, travelling in search of Sir
Bevis, and the two met near Damas; but Bevis did not make himself known.
He rode into Damas, insulted the inhabitants by asking them, "What devil
do you serve here?" and pulled down their idol Mahomed, throwing it into
the gutter. This naturally exasperated the Saracens, and they set upon him;
but before they could secure him, two hundred of them were slain. He was
brought before the king, who read the letters of which he was the bearer.
Bevis, finding he had only himself to trust to, went Berserk again and killed
sixty more Saracens, was overpowered and thrown into a dungeon with two
dragons, which, however, he slew with the truncheon of a spear he
opportunely found, "and then he was at rest awhile."

Josian's fatal beauty was to bring trouble. "Father, said Josian where is
Bevis? He reply'd he is gone to his own country. At this Time came King

Jour, Intending for to wed Josian which he obtained. And Ermine gave
Jour, Arundel and Morglay, which belonged to Bevis; this Josian could in
no way avoid."

Bevis's captors thought they would go and see him, and as he had been in
prison seven years, fed only on bread and water, they thought he would be
weak; but he killed them all, and seizing on a horse, escaped. He met with a
giant whom he slew, and then proceeded on his search for Josian. He met a
poor palmer who told him that in that castle opposite lived King Jour and
his wife, the fair Josian. They exchanged clothes, and Bevis entered the
castle. He saw and conversed with Josian, who did not know him; but when
Arundel heard him speak, he "broke seven Chains asunder, and neighed;"
and then Josian recognized him. The sequel may be imagined. King Jour
was sent off on an imaginary errand, and Josian and Bevis eloped, taking
with them the chamberlain Boniface. They were pursued, and hid in a cave,
where, Bevis being absent hunting for their sustenance, two lions entered,
killed and eat Boniface, and then meekly laid their heads in Josian's lap. On
Bevis's return, she called out to him the state of things, when he told her to
let the lions loose, and he killed them.

They then continued their journey, until they were stopped by Ascapart, "an
ugly Giant, who was thirty Foot high, and a Foot between his Eyebrows; he
was bristled like a Swine, and his Blubber Lips hung on one side."
Naturally he had to be fought and overcome, and on his life being spared,
he promised to be a faithful servant. They reached the shore, where they
wanted to take ship, but, being unable to procure a boat, they first had to
fight and slay many Saracens, and then Ascapart waded to the ship, carrying
Sir Bevis and Josian, and tucking Arundel under his arm. They reached the
land of Colen, where the bishop was a relation of Bevis. Josian was
baptized, but Ascapart refused the rite.

"Bevis being in bed heard a Knight cry, I rot, I rot, at which Noise Bevis
wondered; and the next Morning he ask'd what was the Cause of that Noise;
He was a Knight, they said, that coming through the street, the Dragon met
him and cast her Venom upon him, whereof he rotted and died." Bevis
could not stand this, but sought and encountered the dragon, which he slew,
after the hardest of his many fights.

Then he set about recovering his lost inheritance, and sailed for England,
landing near Southampton. But no sooner was his back turned than the Earl
of Milo, having got rid of Ascapart by stratagem, married Josian; but she
strangled him in bed, whereupon she was sentenced to be burned. Ascapart,
however, had broken prison, joined Bevis, and they together arrived just in
the nick of time to save Josian.

Sir Bevis and Sir Sabere then seriously took Sir Murdure in hand, defeated
him, and boiled him in a cauldron of pitch and brimstone; which treatment
had such an effect on the mother of Sir Bevis, that she threw herself from
the top of her castle and broke her neck. Sir Bevis then, somewhat tardily,
married Josian, and went to do homage to Edgar; but the king's son, having
been refused Arundel at any price, went to take him by force, and had his
brains kicked out by the horse. Sir Bevis was banished, and having left his
estates in the hands of his uncle Sabere, started on his journey, when Josian,
whilst passing through a forest, was taken ill and delivered of twins. She
had requested her husband, Terry, and Ascapart to leave her alone for a
time; so the former two went one way, and the latter another. But when Sir
Bevis and Terry returned, they found the two boys, but not the mother, who
had been carried off by Ascapart. Bevis left his children with a forester,
with strict injunctions to return them to one Bevis of Hampton in seven
years' time; but Sabere and twelve knights tracked and slew the villain
Ascapart, and restored Josian to her husband. They redeemed the children;
and then, finding there was war between the kings Ermine and Jour, Bevis
naturally helped his father-in-law, and captured Jour, whose ransom was
"twenty Tun of Gold and three hundred White Steeds."

King Ermine turned Christian, and before his death crowned his grandson
Guy King of Armony, and knighted his grandson Miles. Not unnaturally
King Jour hated Sir Bevis, and beseiging him in Armony, was of course
overcome and slain, and Bevis took possession of his kingdom, and
converted all the inhabitants to Christianity.

But his troubled life was drawing to a close. King Edgar had disinherited
Sabere's wife, so he, Bevis, and Josian, with their two sons Guy and Miles,
marched to London with a great army, fought the king, slew two thousand
of his men, and then went back to Southampton. The king wisely parleyed

with them, and ultimately agreed to marry his eldest daughter to Miles,
whom he created Earl of Cornwall; after which they all separated and went
home. Bevis and Josian retired to the late King Jour's capital of Mambrant,
where both he and Josian fell sick, and died the same day. "They were
solemnly interred in one Grave, by Guy their Son, who raised a stately
Tomb over them, to the everlasting Memory of so gallant a Knight, and his
most royal and constant Lady.

So I conclude his famous Acts here penn'd,
For Time and Death brings all Things to an End."

THE
L I F E A N D D E AT H

OF

St. George

THE NOBLE

CHAMPION OF ENGLAND.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard
Bow Lane London

Although there are, as may be expected from the great popularity of this
patron saint of England, very numerous illustrations of him in manuscripts,
even as far back as the eleventh century, yet there seems, with the exception
of the "Legenda Aurea" of Caxton and Wynkyn de Worde, to be very little
early printed matter about him, although Dibdin (Ames) notices "The Lyfe
of that glorious Martyr Saint George," quarto, printed by Pynson.

Alban Butler gives a very etherealized life of this saint, and says, "George is
usually painted on horseback and tilting at a dragon under his feet; but this
representation is no more than an emblematical figure, purporting, that by
his faith and Christian fortitude he conquered the Devil, called the Dragon
in the Apocalypse."

Caxton's "Legenda Aurea" ("Westmestre, 1483") gives the following
account of the Cappadocian saint, and his encounter with the Dragon:

—"Saynt George was a knyght and borne in capadose / On a tyme he came
to the prouynce of Lybye to a cyte which is sayd Sylene / And by this cyte
was a stagne or a ponde lyke a see / wherein was a dragon whyche
envenymed alle the contre / And on a tyme the peple were assemblid for to
slee hym / And whan they sawe hym they fledde / And whan he came nyghe
the citte / he venymed the peple wyth his breeth / And therfore the peple of
the citte gaue to hym euery day two sheep for to fede hym / by cause he
shold doo no harme to the peple / And whan the sheep fayled there was
taken a man and a sheep /

"Thenne was an ordenaunce made in the towne / that there shold be taken
the chyldren and yonge peple of them of the towne by lotte / And eueryche
as it fyl were he gentil or poure shold be delyuered whan the lotte fyl on
hym or hyr / So it happed that many of them of the towne were thenne
delyuerd / In soo moche that the lotte fyl vpon the kynges doughter /
Wherrof the kyng was sory and sayd vnto the people /

"For the loue of the goddes take golde and syluer and alle that I haue / and
lett me haue my doughter / they sayd how syr ye haue made and ordeyned
the lawe / and our chyldren been now deed / And now ye wold doo the
contrarye / your doughter shal be gyuen / or ellys we shal breune you &
your hows. Whan the kyng saw he myght nomore doo he began to wepe
and sayd to his doughter / Now shal I neuer see thyn espousayls / Thenne
retorned he to the peple and demauded viij dayes respyte And they graunted
hit to hym / and whan the viij dayes were passed they came to hym and
sayd / thou seest that the cyte perissheth / Thēne dyd the kyng doo* araye
his doughter / lyke as she shold be wedded / and embraced hyr kyssed hir
and gaue hir his benedyccion / And after ledde hyr to the place where the
dragon was / whan she was there / saynt george passed by / And whan he
sawe the lady / he demaunded the lady what she made there, And she sayd /
goo ye your waye fayre yonge man / that ye perysshe not also /

"Thenne sayd he telle to me what haue ye / and why ye were / and doubte
ye of no thynge / whan she sawe that he wold knowe she sayde to hym how
she was delyuered to the dragon / Thenne sayd saynt george / Fayre
doughter doubte ye no thynge herof / For I shall helpe the in the name of

Jhesu Cryste / She said for goddes sake good knyght goo your waye / and
abyde not wyth me / for ye may not delyuer me /

"Thus as they spake to gyder the dragon apperyd & came rennyng to them
and saynt George was vpon his hors & drewe out his swerde & garnysshed
hym wyth the signe of the Crosse / and rode hardely ageynst the dragon
which came toward hym and smote hym with hys spere and hurte hym sore
& threwe hym to the grounde / And after sayde to the mayde / delyuer to
me your gyrdel and bynde hit about the necke of the dragon / and be not
aferde / whan she had doon soo the dragon folowed hyr as it had been a
make beest and debonayr / Thenne she ledde hym in to the cyte / & the
peple fledde by mountayns and valeyes / and sayd / alas / alas / we shal be
alle deed / Thenne saynt George sayd to them / ne doubte ye no thynge /
without more byleue ye in god Jhesu Cryste / and doo you to be baptysed /
and I shal slee the dragon /

"Thenne the kyng was baptysed and al his peple / and saynt george slewe
the dragon and smote of his heed / And commaunded thathe shold be
throwen in the feldes / and they took iiij cartes wyth oxen that drewe hym
out of the cyte / Thenne were there wel fyftene thousand men baptised
without wymmen and chyldren / And the kyng dyd doo make a chirche
there of our lady and of saynt George / In the whiche yet sourdeth a
founteyn of lyuynge water whiche heleth seek peple that drynke therof /
After this the kyng offred to Saint george as moche money as there myght
be nombred / but he refused alle and commaunded that it shold be gyuen to
poure peple for goddes sake / and enioyned the kynge iiij thynges / that is /
that he shold haue charge of the Chyrches / and that he shold honoure the
preestes / and here theyr seruyce dylygently / and that he shold haue pite on
the poure peple / And after kyssed the kyng and departed /"

* Dyd doo, i.e. caused to be.

The Chap-book version is far more marvellous, and is, as the reader will
note, strangely similar, in some places, to the romance of Sir Bevis.

Coventry, not Cappadocia, is made his birth-place; his father was "a
renowned peer named Lord Albert," and his mother was the King's
daughter, who before St. George's birth dreamed her child would be a
dragon. So Lord Albert went to consult the enchantress Kalyb, which he did
by blowing a trumpet at the entrance of her cave, when a voice replied that
his son should be as fierce as a dragon in deeds of chivalry. The mother died
in childbirth, and St. George was stolen in his infancy by Kalyb, which so
grieved Lord Albert that he died.

Kalyb grew very fond of the boy, and in a moment of confidence she
showed him the brazen castle where the other six champions of
Christendom were confined, and made him a present of some invincible
armour. She also lent him her magic wand, a kindness which he requited by
enclosing her in a rock. He then released the six champions, who went their
several ways, and he went to Egypt. There he found the whole kingdom
desolate because of a dragon which every day devoured a virgin, and had

destroyed all but the king's daughter, who was that day to be given to him
unless some one should slay the dragon, in which case she would be given
in marriage to her deliverer. St. George, of course, undertook the adventure,
and reached the place soon after the king and queen had taken leave of their
daughter.

St. George held a short parley with the damsel, whose name was Sabra,
when the dragon approached and the combat took place. We know its issue
—St. George cut off the dragons head, released Sabra, and entered the city,
but was withstood by some of the inhabitants, stirred up by Aminder, King
of Morocco, in love with Sabra, whom he had to fight and overcome.

The king, however, received him graciously; but Aminder spread reports of
St. George trying to convert the princess to Christianity, and the king wrote
a letter to the Sultan of Persia, making St. George the bearer, asking him to
slay him. On its delivery St. George was thrown into a dungeon, and when
he had been there two days, they let down two hungry lions to devour him,
but he killed them with an old sword he found.

He was seven years in prison, during which time Sabra had been forced by
her father to marry Aminder, when one day he found an iron crowbar and
effected his release, stole a horse, was stopped by and fought with a giant,
whom he killed. He journeyed on till he came to where Sabra lived,
changed clothes with a peasant, applied to her for alms, showed her a ring
which she had given him, and was immediately recognized.

Accompanied by a servant, they fled; met with two lions, who eat the
servant but did Sabra no harm, and were duly killed by St. George.

He returned to Coventry, where he was but a little while, when St. David
and the other champions asked him for his assistance against the pagans
who had invaded Hungary. He went with them, leaving Sabra at home, and
duly overthrew the pagans. Then came messengers to him saying that
Sabra, who it appears the Earl of Coventry had attempted to seduce, had
stabbed and killed him, and was condemned to die unless a champion could
be found to fight for her. St. George came at the right moment, fought,
conquered, and freed Sabra. They now lived quietly, and three sons, Guy,
Alexander, and David, were born to them, who were sent to Rome,
England, and Bohemia, to be educated at the Courts of the several
sovereigns. After eighteen years' absence they all returned, and after they
had rested a few days a hunt was proposed, in which Sabra joined. Her
horse, however, fell and threw her "into a thorny briar, which tore her
tender flesh so terribly, that she found she had not long to live, whereupon
calling to St. George and her sons, she very affectionately embraced them,
not being able to speak, and soon died."

St. George undertook a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and on his return home he
fought with a dragon on Dunsmore Heath and slew it. "But this proved the
most fatal of all his adventures, for the vast quantities of poison thrown

upon him by that monsterous beast, so infected his vital spitals, that two
days afterwards he died in his own house."

PATIENT GRISSEL.
"I wol you tell a Tale which that I
Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk
As preved by his wordes and his werk:
He is now ded and nailed in his cheste,
I pray to God to yeve his soule reste.
Fraunceis Petrark, the Laureate poete,
Hight this clerk whos retherike swete
Enlumined all Itaille of poetrie"—

so says Chaucer in the prologue to the "Clerkes Tale," but Petrarch was not
the author of this ever favourite story. It seems to have been the undoubted
offspring of Boccaccio's fancy, even Mr. Baring Gould failing to trace an
Indian source for it, as he has done in so many tales of the "Decameron."*
In fact, Petrarch, although intimately acquainted with Boccaccio, never saw
the tale until 1374, just before his death at Arquà. He at once fell in love
with it, and translated it into Latin, with alterations. This translation was
never printed, but there is a copy in the library at Paris, and another at
Magdalen College, Oxford. It was dramatized in France in 1393, under the
title of "Le Mystere de Griseildis Marquis de Salucas;" again in England,
"The Pleasant Comedie of Patient Grissill. As it hath been sundrie times
lately plaid by the right honorable the Erle of Nottingham (Lord high
Admirall) his seruants. London: Imprinted for Henry Rocket, and are to be
solde at the long Shop vnder S. Mildreds Church in the Poultry. 1603." †
There was also a comedy by Ralph Radcliffe, called "Patient Griseld," but
this was never printed; and in modern times it has been dramatized by Mr.
Edwin Arnold.

* "Bouchet, in his Annales d'Aquitaine, I. iii., maintains that Griselda flourished about the
year 1025, and that her real history exists in manuscript under the title of 'Parement des

Dames.'"—Notes and Queries, 3rd Series, vol. iii. p. 389.

† Of this play only two copies are known.

THE

HISTORY

OF THE NOBLE

MARQUIS OF SALUS

AND

Patient GRISSEL

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church
Yard, Bow Lane London.

Chap. 1.

The Marquis of Salus is sollicited by his Nobles
to
Marry; he consents, and falls in Love with a
poor
Countryman's Daughter.
Between the mountains of Italy and France, towards the South, lies the
territory of Salus, a country flourishing with excellent towns, and some

castles, and peopled with the best sort of gentry and peasants.—Among
them lived not long since a nobleman of great reputation and honour, who
was Lord of the country, and by name Gualter, Marquis of Salus; to whom,
as the government appertained by his right of inheritance, so their
obedience attended by desert of his worthiness. He was young in years and
never had thought of marriage until pressed to it by the desires and petitions
of his people, who often importuned him thereto.—At last he consented to
it, and fame soon spread the report abroad, and each Princess was filled
with hopes of being the Marquis's happy partner.

All this time the Marquis continued his hunting, and usually resorted to a
little village not far from Selus where lived a poor countryman named
Janicola, overworn in years, and overcome with distress, having nothing to
make his life comfortable but an only daughter, who was exceedingly
beautiful, modest, and virtuous. But as fire will not lay hid where there is
matter of combustibles, so virtue cannot be obscured if there is tongues and
ears; for the report of her reached the Marquis, who being satisfied of the
truth, and finding her a fit woman to be his wife, resolved to forward the
business.—In the mean time the Court was furnished, a Crown and rich
apparel prepared for the Queen; but who she was the Nobles all wondered,

and the damsels marvelled; while the people in general flocked to see who
was to be the happy woman.

At last the nuptial day arrived, and each one looked for a bride, but who she
was the next Chapter must discover.

Chap. 2.

The Marquis demands, and Marries the Old
Man's
Daughter.

When all things were prepared, the Noble Marquis took with him a great
Company of Earls Lords Knights Squires, Gentlemen, Ladies, and
Attendants, and went from the palace into the country, towards Janicola's
house, where the fair maid Grissel, ignorant of what had happened, or of
what was to come, had made herself and house clean, determining with the
rest of the neighbouring virgins to see this solemnity; at which instant

arrived the Marquis with his Company, meeting Grissel with two pitchers of
Water which she was carrying home. He asked where her father was? She
answered, in the house—Go then, replied he, and tell him I would speak
with him. The poor man came forth to him somewhat abashed, until the
Marquis taking him by the hand, said That he had a secret to impart to him;
and taking him from the rest of the Company spoke to him in the following
manner:

"Janicola,

I know thou always lovedst me, and I am satisfied thou dost not hate me
now; you have been pleased when I have been pleased, and you will not
now be sorrowful if I am satisfied; nay I am sure if it lies in your power,
you will further my delight; for I am come with the intention of begging
your daughter to be my wife; and I to be your son in law, will you take me
for your friend, as I have chose you for a father."

The poor old man was so astonished, that he could not speak for Joy, but
when the extasy was over, he thus faintly replied;

"Most gracious Sovereign,

You are my Lord, and therefore I must agree to your will; but you are
generous, and therefore take her in God's name, and make me a glad father;
and let that God which raiseth up the humble and meek, make her a
befitting wife and a fruitful mother."

Why then, quoth the Marquis, let us enter your house, for I must ask her a
question before you. So he went in, the company tarrying without in vast
astonishment—The fair maid was busied in making it as handsome as she
could, and proud to have such a guest under her roof, amazed why he came
so accompanied, little conjecturing so great a blessing; but at last the
Marquis took hold of her hand and used these speeches. To tell you this
blush becomes you, were but a folly; or that your modesty has graced your
comliness, is unbecoming my greatness; but in one word, your father and I
have agreed to make you my wife, therefore, delays shall not entangle you
with suspicion, nor two days longer protract the kindness, only I must be
satisfied in this, if your heart affords willing entertainment to the motion,

and your virtue and constancy to the following resolution; that is, not to
repine at my pleasure in anything, nor presume on contradiction when I
command; for as good soldiers must obey without disputing the business, so
must virtuous wives dutifully consent without reproof; therefore be advised
how you answer, and I charge thee take heed that thy tongue utters no more
than thy heart conceits. All this time was Grissel wondering at these words;
but thinking nothing impossible with God, made the Marquis the following
answer:

"My gracious Lord,

I am not ignorant of your greatness, and know my own weakness. There is
nothing worthy in me to be your servant, therefore can have no desert to be
your wife. Notwithstanding, because God is the author of Miracles, I yield
to your pleasure, and praise him for the fortune. Only this I will be bold to
say. That your will shall be my delight; and death shall be more welcome to
me, than a word of displeasure against you."

After this the Ladies adorned Grissel with robes befitting her state; the
Marquis and all the company returned back to Salus, where in the
Cathedral, in the sight of the people according to the fullness of religious
ceremonies they were by the priest essentially joined together.

Chap. 3.

Lady Grissels Patience tried by the Marquis.
To the other blessinge in process of time, there was added the birth of a
daughter, that rejoiced the mother and gladded the father; the country
triumphed, and the people clapped their hands with joy—Notwithstanding
this, fortune had a trick to check her pride; and prosperity must be seasoned
with some crosses or else it would corrupt us too much. Whereupon the
Marquis determined to prove his wife, and to make trial of her virtues
indeed; and so taking a convenient season, after the child was weaned, he
one day repaired secretly to her chamber, and seeming angry, imparted to
her some of his mind.

The lady hearing him, sorrowfully apprehended the Marquis's resolution to
her grief (though every word was like an arrow in her side) yet admitted of
the temptation, and disputing with herself to what end the virtues of
patience, modesty, forbearance, fortitude and magnanimity was ordained, if
they had not proper subjects to work upon.

When the Marquis saw her constancy, he was pleased with her modest
behaviour, and said but little at that time, but between joy and fear departed;
resolving to make a farther trial of her.

Chap. 4.

The Marquis's Daughter is taken from her
Mother
and sent to Bologne to be there brought up.

Not long after this Conference between the Marquis and his Lady, he called
a faithful servant, to whom he imparted the secret, and what he meant to do
with his child; and then sent him to his wife with an unsavoury message—
When she had heard him out, remembering the conference the Marquis had
with her, and apprehending there was no room for dispute, feared it was
ordained to die; so taking it up in her arms with a mothers blessing she
kissed it, being not once amazed or troubled, since her lord would have it
so, only she said, I must, friend, intreat one thing at your hand, that out of
humanity and Christian love, you leave not the body to be devoured by
beasts and birds, for she is worthy of a grave.

The man, having got the Child, durst not tarry, but returned to his master,
repeating every circumstance of her answer that might aggrandise her
constancy.

The Marquis considering the great virtue of his wife, and looking on the
beauty of his daughter, began to entertain some compassion, and to retract
his wilfulness; but at last resolution won the field of pity, and having, as he
thought so well begun, would not soon give over. But with the same secrecy
he had taken her from his wife, he sent her away to his sister the Dutchess
of Bologne, with presents of worth, and letters of recommendation,

containing in them the nature of the business, and the manner of her
bringing up, which she accordingly put into practice.

Chap. 5.

The Marquis makes a farther Trial of his Wife's
Patience.
As this patient and wonderful lady was one day sporting with her infant
son, like a tempest did this messenger of death interpose; yet as if he was
conscious of disquieting her greatness, he came forward with preamble,
craving pardon of the lady, that the message might seem blameless. He was
not so sudden in his demand, as she was in her despatch; for she
immediately gave him this child also, with the same enforcements as she
had done the former.—

In the like manner he returned to the Marquis, who had still more cause for
astonishment, and less reason to abuse so obedient a wife; but for a time
sent this child likewise to his sister, who understanding her brother's mind
brought up the children in such a manner, that tho' no man ever knew whose
children they were, yet they supposed them to belong to some great
potentate.

The ordering the business in this manner, made the Marquis once again
settle himself in Salus, where he kept an open house to all comers, and was
proud of nothing but the love of his wife; for although he had more than
once tried her patience, yet she never complained, but seemed to love him
the more.

By this time his unkindness to her got spread among the people, who all
admired and wondered at her for her constancy and patience.

Chap. 6.

Grissel disrobed, and sent home to her Father by
her
Husband; her Son and Daughter brought Home,
under pretence of the Marquis's marrying her;
Grissel is sent for to make preparations, and her
Condescension thereon.
After this the Marquis was resolved to put her to another trial, so sent for
her cloaths, and commanded her to go home again to her father's naked,
except her shift; when, being in the midst of her nobility she disrobed
herself, and returned back to her father's Cottage. They could not but
deplore the alteration of fortune; yet she could not but smile that her virtue
was predominant over her passion. They all exclaimed against the cruelty of
her Lord; but she used no invective. They wondered at her so great virtue
and patience; she answered, They were befitting a modest woman.

By this time they approached the house and old Janicola having been
acquainted with it; and seeing his daughter only in her smock, amidst such
honourable company, he ran into the house and brought the robes she
formerly wore, and putting them on said Now, thou art in thy element, and
kissing her bid her welcome. The Company was in amaze at his moderation,
and wondered how nature could be so restrained from passion, and that any
woman could have so much grace and virtue. In which amaze not without
some reprehension of fortune and their Lord's cruelty, they left her to the
poverty of the Cell, and returned to the glory of the palace, where they
recounted to the Marquis how she continued in her moderation and
patience; and the father comforting her in her condition.

Not long after came the Dutchess of Bologne, with her glorious company,
she sending word beforehand she should be at Salus such a day. Whereupon
the Marquis sent a troop to welcome her, and prepared a court for her
entertainment. The effects of which were not agreeable; some condemned
the Marquis whilst others deplored his wife's misfortunes. Some were
transported with the gallant youth and comely virgin that came along with
the Dutchess, the latter of whom it was reported the Marquis was going to
marry; nor did the Duke nor Princess know themselves to be the Children of
the Marquis, but appeared as strangers designed to be at this new Marriage.

The next morning after their arrival he sent a messenger for Grissel bidding
her come and speak with him just in the dress she then was; upon which she
immediately waited upon her Lord. At her appearance he was somewhat
abashed, but recovering his spirits he thus addressed her:

Grissel, the Lady with whom I must marry will be here to-morrow by this
time, and the feast is prepared according—Now, because there is none so
well acquainted with the secrets of my palace and disposition of myself but
you, I would have you, for all this base attire, address your wisdom to the
ordering of the business, appointing such officers as are befitting, and
disposing of the rooms according to the degrees and estates of the persons.
Let the Lady have the privilege of the marriage chamber, and the young

Lord the pleasure of the gallery. Let the wines be plentiful, and the
ceremonies be maintained—In a word, let nothing be wanting which may
set forth my honour and delight the people.

My Lord, said she, I ever told you, That I took pleasure in nothing but your
Contentment, and in whatsoever might conform to your delight. Herein
consisted my joy and happiness, therefore make no question of my
diligence and duty in this or anything you shall please to impose upon me.
And so, like a poor servant she presently addressed herself to the business
of the house performing all things with such dispatch and quickness that
each one wondered at her goodness and fair demeanor; and many
murmured to see her put to such a trial. But the day of entertainment being
come, and when the fair lady approached, she looked exceeding beautiful,
insomuch that some began not to blame the Marquis for his change. At
length Grissel, taking the lady by the hand, thus addressed her: Lady, if it
were not his pleasure, that may command, to bid you welcome, yet
methinks there is a kind of over ruling grace from nature in you, which
must extort a respect unto you.—And as for you young Lord, I can say no
more, but if I might have my desires, they should be employed to wish you
well—To the rest I afford all that is fit for entertainment, hoping they will
excuse whatever they see amiss. And so conducted them to their several
apartments, where they agreeably reposed themselves till it was dinner

time. When all things were thus prepared, the Marquis sent for his Grissel,
and standing up, took her by the hand, and thus expressed himself to her:

You see the Lady is here I mean to marry, and the Company assembled to
witness it; are you therefore contented I shall thus dispose of myself? and
do you submit quietly to the alteration?

My Lord, replied she, before them all, in what as a woman I might be found
faulty, I will not now dispute; but because I am your wife, and have devoted
myself to obedience, I am resolved to delight myself in your pleasure; so, if
this match be designed for your good, I am satisfied and more than much
contented. And as for your lady, I wish her the delights of marriage, the
honour of her husband, many years happiness, and the fruits of true and
chaste wedlock—Only, great Lord, take care of one thing, That you try not
your new bride, as you did your old wife; for she is young, and perhaps
wants the patience which poor I have endured.

Till this he held out bravely, but now could not forbear bursting into tears,
and all the company wondered at it; but the next Chapter will happily
conclude the whole Story.

Chap. 7.

The Marquis's Speech to his Wife and the
Discovery
of the Children.

After the Marquis had recovered himself, he thus addressed his patient wife
Grissel:—Thou Wonder of Women, and Champion of true Virtue! I am
ashamed of my imperfections, and tired with abusing thee; I have tried thee
beyond all modesty.—Believe me therefore, I will have no wife but thyself,
and therefore seeing I have used you so unkindly heretofore, I protest never
to disquiet thee any more; and wherein my cruelty extended against thee in

bereaving thee of thy Children, my love shall now make amends in
restoring thee thy son and daughter; for this my new bride is she, and this
young Lord, her brother. Thank this good Lady my sister for the bringing
them up; and this man, you know him well enough, for his secrecy. I have
related the truth, and will confirm it with my honour and this kiss; only sit
down till the dinner is come, and then bid the company welcome even in
this poor array.

The Marquis thus tenderly treating her, and discovering who the young
Lord and Lady was, gave the Nobility a fresh opportunity to shew their
obedience; the which they immediately did to all three; and the dinner being
over, none was so ready to attire Grissel, as her daughter, who was more
glad than disappointed by this so sudden a change—Janicola was sent for to
Court, and ever afterwards he was the Marquis's counsellor. The servant
was also well rewarded for his fidelity; and the Dutchess returned to her
palace, leaving her brother and sister to reign in peace.—In length of time
the Marquis died, and Grissel lived thirty three years after him, and then
died in a good old age; being a pattern for all women after, who might have
their virtue or patience tried in the like, or other manner, not to distrust an
all wise Providence, who, when he seemeth most to frown, oftentimes is
about blessing his creatures with the Sunshine of prosperity.—On the other
hand her example should teach us Content, though in meek and abject
circumstances; considering it is not the pleasure of the Divine Will to bless
all people alike with affluence.

FINIS.

The Pleasant and Delightful

HISTORY

OF

JACK AND THE
GIANTS
Part the first

Nottingham
Printed for the Running Stationers.

The Second Part of

JACK and the GIANTS

GIVING

A full Account of his Victorious Conquests over the
North Country Giants; destroying the inchanted Castle
kept by Galligantus; dispers'd the fiery Griffins; put the
Conjuror to Flight; and released not only many Knights
and Ladies, but likewise a Duke's Daughter, to whom
he was honourably married.

Newcastle: Printed and Sold by J. White. 1711

THE

HISTORY

OF

JACK and the GIANTS

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church
Yard. Bow Lane. London

The origin of this romance is undoubtedly Northern.

The Edda of Snorro contains a similar story to that of the Welsh Giant. Thor
and the giant Skrimner were travelling together, and when they slept,
Skrimner substituted a rock, as Jack did a billet, for his person. Thor smote
it with his mighty hammer, and the giant asked whether a leaf had fallen

from a tree. Again he smote, and this time the giant suggested an acorn had
fallen. Yet still one mightier blow than all, but the provoking Skrimner
thought it was only some moss fallen on his face.

Also in the second relation of Ssidi Kur, a Calmuck romance, the wonderful
shoes of swiftness are to be found.*

This romance used to be a never-failing source of delight to children, but a
long version of it is now seldom found. The Chap-books give two parts, and
all agree in their story. The date is laid in King Arthur's time, and Jack was
the son of a wealthy farmer near Land's End in Cornwall, and he was of
great strength and extremely subtle. The country at that time seems to have
been under the terrorism of a race of giants, and Jack's mission was their
destruction. For the greater part, as we shall see, they were a very simple
and foolish race, very ferocious, but with no brains, and they fell an easy
prey to the astute Jack. He tried his 'prentice hand on a fine specimen, the
Giant Cormoran, eighteen feet high and three yards in circumference, who
dwelt on the Mount of Cornwall. Jack's preparations were simple. He took a
horn, a pickaxe, and a shovel, and with the two latter dug a pit twenty-two
feet deep, and covered it over; then he blew his horn. The Giant came out
and fell into the pit, when Jack killed him with his axe (Plates Nos. 1 and
2). This earned him his sobriquet of the Giant-Killer. The Giant
Blunderbore, hearing of this feat, vowed vengeance, and meeting Jack in a
lonely part of Wales, he carried him on his shoulders to his castle, locked
him in an upper room, and started off to invite a brother giant to supper.
But, alas for the blindness of these huge dunderheads! two strong cords had
been left most imprudently in Jack's room, in which he made running
nooses, and, as the giants were unlocking the gates, he threw the ropes over
their heads and strangled them, cut off their heads, and delivered their
captives.

In Flintshire he met with an abnormal specimen, a giant with two heads;
and, as perhaps they were "better than one," this giant was crafty, pretended
friendship, and took Jack home with him to sleep. Luckily for Jack, the
giant had a bad habit of soliloquy, and he overheard him say—

"Tho' here you lodge with me this night,

You shall not see the morning's light.
My club shall dash your brains out quite."

"Forewarned is forearmed;" so Jack substituted a billet of wood for himself,
which the giant duly belaboured, and, being utterly astounded at seeing Jack
alive and well in the morning, asked him how he slept—whether he had
been disturbed? "No," said the self-possessed Jack; "a rat gave me three or
four flaps with his tail."

Crafty Jack, however, made the foolish giant destroy himself, as follows:
—"Soon after the Giant went to breakfast on a great bowl of hasty pudding,
giving Jack but little quantity; who being loath to let him know he could not
eat with him, got a leather bag, putting it artfully under his coat, into which
he put his pudding, telling the Giant he would shew him a trick; so taking a
large knife he ripped open the bag which the Giant thought to be his belly,
and out came the hasty pudding; which the Welsh Giant seeing, cried out,
Cot's plut, hur can do that hurself; and taking up the knife he ripped open
his belly from top to bottom, and out dropped his tripes and trullibubs, so
that he immediately fell down dead."

King Arthur's son was travelling about, and meeting with Jack, they joined
company. The prince seems to have been too lavish with his money, and
soon was in want. Jack then proposed they should sup and sleep at the
house of a three-headed giant, who rather prided himself upon his fighting
qualities. Stratagem succeeded; Jack made the giant believe that the prince
was coming with a thousand men to destroy him, and the human Cerberus
(who, although he was a match for five hundred, did not dare to overweight
himself with double that number) begged Jack to bolt and bar him in a vault
till the prince had gone. Jack and the prince ate and drank of the best, slept
well, and in the morning took the giant's cash. When the prince was well on
his way, Jack let the big stupid lubber out, and he out of gratitude gave his
preserver a coat which would render him invisible, a cap which would
furnish him with knowledge, a miraculously sharp sword, and shoes of
incredible swiftness. † Jack took them and followed the prince, whose life
he afterwards saved, and, besides, made himself useful in casting an evil
spirit out of a lad.

In the Second Part Jack turns professional giant-slaughterer, and of course
these overgrown simpletons had no chance against Jack's magic
paraphernalia. They had to give up their prisoners (Plate 4); they were cut in
pieces without seeing their assailant (Plate 3); their very weight sometimes
proved their destruction—notably one Thundel, who will always live in
memory as the talented author of

"Fe, fa, fum
I smell the blood of an Englishman,
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make me bread."

This Thundel was beguiled on to a drawbridge, which broke with his weight
(see frontispiece, Newcastle edition), and, floundering in the moat, fell an
easy prey. But Jack's supreme effort was masterly, and well rewarded him.
A hermit told him of a giant, one Galligantus, who lived in an enchanted
castle, in which, by the aid of a conjuror and two fiery dragons, he had
imprisoned a duke's daughter, transforming her into a deer. Could Jack
resist this charming adventure? Impossible. Clad in his invisible coat, he got
into the castle, found that the way to break the enchantment was to blow a
certain trumpet, did so—an act which had the effect of temporarily
depriving the giant and sorcerer of their presence of mind, a fact which Jack
took advantage of by decapitating Galligantus; at which sight the conjuror
mounted in the air, and disappeared in a whirlwind. The two dragons,
considering these proceedings equivalent to a notice of ejectment, promptly
took their departure; whilst a quantity of beasts and birds resumed their
former shapes of knights and ladies, and the castle vanished.

Needless to say, King Arthur prevailed on the duke to reward Jack with his
daughter's hand, and he himself gave him "plentiful estate;" so there is very
little reason to doubt the announcement which closes this veracious history,
that "he and his Lady lived the residue of their days in joy and content.

* The Chan steals a pair from the Tchadkurrs, or evil spirits, by means of a cap which
made him invisible, which he won from some quarrelling children whom he met in a
forest.

† To show the northern origin of this tale, it is only necessary to point out that the coat is
identical with the magic garment known in ancient German as the "Nebel Kappe," or cloud
cloak, fabled to belong to King Alberich and the other dwarfs of the Teutonic Cycle of
Romance, who, clad therein, could walk invisible. To them also belongs the "Tarn hut," or
Hat of Darkness. Velent, the smith of the Edda of Sæmund, forged a "Sword of Sharpness,"
which in the Wilkina Saga is called Balmung. It was so sharp that when Velent cleft his
rival Æmilius, it merely seemed to the latter like cold water running down him. "Shake
thyself," said Velent. He did so, and fell in two halves, one on each side of the chair. The
Shoes of Swiftness were worn by Loke when he escaped from Valhalla.

A pleasant and delightful
HISTORY
OF

Thomas Hickathrift

Newcastle, Printed by and for M. Angus and Son, in the Side—

Where is always kept on Sale, a choice and extensive Assortment of
Histories,
Songs, Children's Story Books, School Books &c &c.

This worthy does not seem to have been an absolute myth, if we can trust
Sir Henry Spelman, who in his "Icenia sive Norfolciæ Descriptio
Topographica," p. 138, speaking of Tilney in Marshland Hundred, says,
"Hic se expandit insignis area, quæ à planitie nuncupatur Tylney-smeeth,
pinguis adeo & luxurians ut Padua pascua videatur superasse.... Tuentur
eum indigenæ velut Aras and Focos, fabellamque recitant longa petitam
vetustate de Hikifrico (nescio quo,) Haii illius instar in Scotorum Chronicis,
qui Civium suorum dedignatus fugam, Aratrum quod agebat, solvit; arrepto
que Temone furibundus insiliit in hostes, victoriamque ademit exultantibus.
Sic cum de agri istius finibus acriter olim dimicatum esset inter fundi
Dominum et Villarum Incolas, nec valerent hi adversus eum consistere;
cedentibus occurrit Hikifricus, axem que excutiens a Curru quem agebat, eo
vice Gladii usus; Rotâ, Clypei; invasores repulit ad ipsos quibus nunc
funguntur terminos. Ostendunt in cæmeterio Tilniensi, Sepulcrum sui
pugilis, Axem cum Rota insculptum exhibens."

Sir William Dugdale also says, "They to this day shew a large gravestone
near the east end of the Chancel in Tilney Churchyard, whereon the form of
a Cross is so cut or carved, as that the upper part thereof (wherewith the
carver had adorned it) being circular they will therefore have it to be the
gravestone of Hickifrick as a memorial of his Courage."

In Chambers's "History of Norfolk," vol. i. p. 492, it says, "The stone coffin
which stands out of the ground in Tilney Churchyard, on the north side of
the Church, will not receive a person above six feet in length; and this is
shewn as belonging formerly to the giant Hickafric. The cross said to be a
representation of the cart wheel, is a cross pattée on the head of a staff,
which staff is styled an axletree."

THE

HISTORY

OF

T H O M A S H I C K AT H R I F T

Part the First

Printed in Aldermary Church Yard. London

Chap. 1.

Tom's Birth and Parentage.
In the reign of William the Conqueror I have read in antient records, there
lived in the Isle of Ely in Cambridgeshire, a man named Thomas
Hickathrift, a poor labourer, yet he was an honest stout man, and able to do
as much work in a day as two ordinary men. Having only one Son he called
him after his own name Thomas. The old man put his son to School, but he
would learn nothing.

God called the old man aside, his Mother being tender of her son,
maintained him by her own labour as well as she could; but all his delight
was in the chimney corner, and he eat as much at once as would serve five
ordinary men. At ten years old he was six feet high and three in thickness,
his hand was like a shoulder of mutton, and every other part proportionable;
but his great strength was yet unknown.

Chap. 2.

How Tom Hickathrift's great Strength came to
be
Known.

Tom's Mother being a poor widow, went to a rich farmer's house, to beg a
bundle of straw, to shift herself and her son Thomas. The farmer being an
honest charitable man, bid her take what she wanted. She, going home to
her son Thomas said, Pray go to such a place and fetch me a bundle of

straw; I have asked leave.—He swore he would not go—Nay, prythee go,
said his poor old Mother.—Again he swore he would not go, unless she
would borrow him a cart rope, she being willing to pleasure him, went and
borrowed one.

Then taking the Cart rope, away he went, and coming to the farmer's house,
the master was in the barn, and two men threshing.

Tom said, I am come for a burden of Straw. Tom, said the farmer, take as
much as thou can'st carry. So he laid down his Cart rope, and began to make
up his burden.

Your rope, Tom, said they is too short, and jeered him. But he fitted the
farmer well for his joke; for when he had made up his burthen, it was
supposed it might be two thousand weight—But says they, what a fool art
thou? for thou can'st not carry the tythe of it.—But however he took up his
burthen, and made no more of it than we do an hundred pound weight, to
the great admiration of master and men.

Now Tom's strength beginning to be known in the town, they would not let
him lie basking in the chimney corner, everyone hirting him to work, seeing
he had so much strength, all telling him, it was a shame for him to lie idle as
he did from day to day; so that Tom finding them bate at him as they did,
went first to one work and then to another.

At last a man came to him and desired him to go to the wood to help him to
bring a tree home; so Tom went with him and four other men.

And when they came to the wood, they set the cart by the tree, and began to
draw it by pullies; but Tom seeing them not able to stir it, said aloud, stand
aside fools—And set it on one end, and then put it in to the cart—There,
said he, see what a man can do? Marry, said they, that's true.

Having done, and come through the wood they met the woodman, and Tom
asked him for a stick to make his mother a fire with.

Aye, said the woodman, take one.

So Tom took up a tree bigger than that on the cart, and put it on his
shoulder, and walked home with it faster than the six horses in the cart drew
the other.

This was the second instance of Tom's shewing his strength; by which time
he began to know that he had more natural strength than twenty common
men; and from this time Tom began to grow very tractable; he would jump,
run, and take delight in young company, and go to fairs and meetings, to see
sports and diversions.

One day going to the wake, where the young men were met, some went to
wrestling, and some to cudgels, some to throwing the hammer and the like.

Tom stood awhile to see the sport, and at last he joined the company
throwing the hammer; at length he took the hammer in his hand, and felt the
weight of it, bidding them stand out of the way, for he would try how far he
could throw it—Aye, said the old smith, you will throw it a great way I
warrant you—

Tom took the hammer, and giving it a swing, threw it into a river five or six
furlongs distant, and bid them fetch it out.

After this Tom joined the wrestlers; and though he had no more skill than an
ass, yet by main strength he flung all he grappled with; if once he laid hold,
they were gone; some he threw over his head, and others he laid down
gently. He did not attempt to lock or strike at their heels, but threw them
down two or three yards from him, and sometimes on their heads, ready to
break their necks. So that at last none durst enter the ring to wrestle with
him; for they took him to be some devil among them.

Chap. 3.

Tom becomes a Brewer's Servant; and of his
killing a
Giant, and gaining the Title of Mr. Hickathrift.

Tom's fame being spread, no one durst give him an angry word; for being
fool hardy, he cared not what he did; so that those who knew him would not
displease him. At last a brewer of Lynn, who wanted a lusty man to carry
beer to the Marsh, and to Wisbeach, hearing of Tom, came to hire him; but
Tom would not hire himself, until his friends persuaded him, and the master
promised him a new suit of cloaths from top to toe, and besides that he
should eat and drink of the best. At last Tom consented to be his man, and
the master shewed him which way he was to go; for there was a monsterous
Giant, who kept part of the Marsh, and none durst go that way; for if the
Giant found them, he would either kill them, or make them his slaves.

But to come to Tom and his master; Tom did more in one day than all the
rest of his men did in three; so that his master seeing him so tractable, and
careful in his business, made him his head man, and trusted him to carry
beer by himself, for he needed none to help him; Thus Tom went each day
to Wisbeach, which was a long Journey of twenty miles.

Tom going this journey so often, and finding the other road, the Giant kept,
nearer by the half, and Tom having encreased his strength by being so well
kept, and improved his courage by drinking so much strong ale; one day as
he was going to Wisbeach, without saying any thing to his master, or any of
his fellow servants, he resolved to make the nearest road, or lose his life; to
win the horse, or lose the saddle; to kill or be killed if he met the Giant.

Thus resolved, he goes the nearest way with his cart, flinging open the gates
in order to go through; but the Giant soon espied him, and seeing him a
daring fellow, vowed to stop his journey, and make a prize of his beer; but
Tom cared nothing for him; and the Giant met him like a roaring lion, as
though he would have swallowed him.

Sirrah, said he, who gave you authority to come this way? Do you not know
that I make all stand in fear of my sight; and you, like an impudent rogue,
must come and fling open my gates at pleasure. Are you so careless of your
life that you care not what you do? I'll make you an example to all rogues
under the sun. Dost thou not see how many heads hang on yonder tree, that
have offended my laws? thine shall hang above them all.

Who cares for you, said Tom, you shall not find me like one of them. No,
said the Giant, why you are but a fool, if you come to fight me, and bring

no weapon to defend yourself. Cries Tom I have got a weapon here shall
make you know I am your Master. Aye, say you so, Sirrah, said the Giant,
and then ran to his Cave to fetch his Club, intending to dash out his brains
at one blow. While the Giant was gone for his club, Tom turned his cart
upside down, taking the axle tree and wheel for his sword and buckler, and
excellent weapons they was on such an emergence.

The Giant coming out again began to stare at Tom to see him take the wheel
in one hand and the axle tree in the other.

Oh! Oh! said the Giant, you are like to do great things with these
instruments. I have a twig here that will beat thee and thy axle tree, and thy
wheel to the ground. Now that which the giant called a twig was as thick as
a millpost; with this the giant made a blow at Tom with such force as made
his wheel crack. Tom nothing daunted, gave him as brave a blow on the side
of his head, which made him reel again. What, said Tom, are you got drunk
with my small beer already? The Giant recovering, made many hard blows
at Tom; but still, as they came, he kept them off with his wheel, so that he
received but very little hurt.

In the mean time Tom plied him so well with blows, that the sweat and
blood ran together down the Giant's face; who being fat and foggy, was

almost spent with fighting so long, begged Tom to let him drink, and then
he would fight him again. No said Tom, my mother did not teach me such
wit; who is fool then? whereupon finding the Giant grow weak, Tom
redoubled his blows till he brought him to the ground. The Giant finding
himself overcome, roared hediously, and begged Tom to spare his life, and
he would perform anything he should desire, even yield himself unto him,
and be his servant.

But Tom having no more mercy on him than a bear upon a dog, laid on him
till he found him breathless, and then Cut off his head, after which he went
into the cave and there found great store of gold and silver, which made his
heart leap for Joy.

When he had rumaged the cave and refreshed himself a little, he restored
the wheel and axletree to their former places, and loaded his beer on his
cart, and went to Wisbeach, where he delivered his beer and returned home
the same night as usual.

Upon his return to his master, he told him what he had done, which though
he was rejoiced to hear, he could not altogether believe, till he had seen it
was true. Next morning Tom's master went with him to the place, to be
convinced of the truth; as did most of the inhabitants of Lynn. When they
came to the place they were rejoiced to find the giant dead: and when Tom
shewed them the head, and what gold and silver there was in the Cave, all
of them leaped for joy; for the giant had been a great enemy to that part of
the Country.

News was soon spread that Thomas Hickathrift had killed the giant, and
happy was he that could come to see the giant's cave; and bonfires were
made all round the country for Tom's success.

Tom by the general consent of the country took possession of the giant's
cave, and the riches. He pulled down the Cave and built himself a
handsome house on the spot. Part of the Giant's lands he gave to the poor
for their Common, and the rest he divided and enclosed for an estate, to
maintain him and his mother. Now Tom's fame spread more and more thro'
the country, and he was no longer called plain Tom but Mr. Hickathrift; and

they feared his anger now, almost as much as they did that of the Giant
before.

Tom now finding himself very rich, resolved his neighbours should be the
better for it; he enclosed himself a park and kept deer; and just by his house
he built a church, which he dedicated to St. James, because on that Saint's
day he killed the Giant.

Chap. 4.

How Tom kept a Pack of Hounds, and of his being
attacked by four Highwaymen.

Tom not being used to have such a stock of riches could hardly tell how to
dispose of it; but he used means to do it; for he kept a pack of hounds and
men to hunt them; and who but Tom! he took such delight in sports and
exercises, that he would go far and near to a merry meeting.

One day as Tom was riding, he saw a company at Football, and dismounted
to see them play for a wager; but he spoiled all their sport, for meeting the
football he gave it such a kick that they never found it more; whereupon
they began to quarrel with Tom, but some of them got little good by it; for
he got a Spar, which belonged to an old house that had been blown down,
with which he drove all opposition before him, and made way wherever he
came.

After this, going home late in the evening, he was met by four highwaymen
well mounted, who had robbed all the passengers that travelled this road.
When they saw Tom, and found he was alone, they were cock sure of his
money, and bid him stand and deliver—What must I deliver, cries Tom?—
Your money, sirrah, says they.—Aye, said Tom, but you shall give me better
words for it first, and be better armed too.—Come, come, said they, we
came not here to prate, but for your money, and Money we will have before
we go. Is it so said Tom, then get it and take it.

Whereupon one of them made at him with a trusty sword, which Tom
immediately wrenched out of his hand, and attacked the whole four with it,
and made them set spurs to their horses; but seeing one had a portmantua
behind him, and supposing it contained money, he more closely pursued

them, and cut their journey short, killing two of them, and sadly wounding
the other two; who begging hard for their lives, he let them go; but took
away all their money, which was above two hundred pounds, to bear his
expenses home.

When Tom came home, he told them how he had served the poor football
players; and also related his engagement with the four thieves; which
produced much laughter amongst the whole company.

Chap. 5.

Tom meets with a Tinker and of the Battle they
fought.

Some time afterwards as Tom was walking about his estate, to see how his
workmen went on, he met upon the skirts of the forest a very sturdy Tinker,
having a good staff on his shoulder, and a great dog to carry his budget of
tools. So Tom asked the Tinker from whence he came and whither he was

going? as that was no highway. And the Tinker being a very sturdy fellow,
bid him go look, what was that to him? but fools must always be meddling
—Hold said Tom, before you and I part I will make you know who I am.—
Ay—said the Tinker, it is three Years since I had a combat with any man; I
have challenged many a one, but none dare face me, so I think they are all
cowards in this part of the country; but I hear there is a man hereabouts
named Thomas Hickathrift, who killed a Giant; him I'd willingly see to
have a bout with.—Aye, said Tom, I am the man, what have you to say to
me? Truly said the Tinker, I am glad we are so happily met that we may
have one touch—Surely, said Tom, you are but in jest—Marry said the
Tinker, I am in earnest—A match, said Tom—It is done, said the Tinker.—
But, said Tom, will you give me leave to let me get a twig—Aye, said the
Tinker, I hate him that fights with a man unarmed.

So Tom stepped to a gate, and took a rail for a staff. To it they fell, the
Tinker at Tom, and Tom at the Tinker like two Giants. The Tinker had a
leather coat on, so that every blow Tom gave him made him roar again; yet
the Tinker did not give way an inch, till Tom gave him such a bang on the
side of the head as felled him to the ground.—Now, Tinker, where art thou?
said Tom.—But the Tinker being a nimble fellow leaped up again, and gave
Tom a bang, which made him reel, and following his blow took Tom on the
other side, which made him throw down his weapon, and yield the Tinker
the best of it.

After this Tom took the Tinker home to his house, where we shall leave
them to improve their acquaintance, and get themselves cured of the bruises
they gave each other.

FINIS.

TOM THUMB.
This prose version is made from the ballad, the original of which was
printed for John Wright in 1630; the second and third parts were written
about 1700. Like most of its class, it seems to have had a northern origin.
The German "Daumerling," or little Thumb, was, like Tom, swallowed by a
cow; and there is a Danish book which treats of "Svend Tomling, a man no
bigger than a thumb, who would be married to a woman three ells and three
quarters long." But tradition has it that Tom died at Lincoln, which was one
of the five Danish towns of England, and there was a little blue flagstone in
the cathedral, said to be his tombstone, which got lost, or at least never
replaced, during some repairs early in this century. The first mention of him
is in Scot's "Discoverie of Witchcraft," 1584, where he is classed with "the
puckle, hobgobblin, Tom Tumbler boneles, and such other bugs," or
bugbears.

The Famous History of

TOM THUMB

Wherein is declared,

His Marvellous Acts of Manhood

Full of Wonder and Merriment

Part the First.

Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard, London.

"In Arthur's court Tom Thumb did live
A man of mickle might,
Who was the best of the table round,
And eke a worthy Knight.

"In stature but an inch in height,
Or quarter of a span,
How think you that this valiant knight
Was proved a valiant man.

"His father was a ploughman plain,
His mother milked the Cow,
And yet the way to get a son
This couple knew not how.—

"Until the time the good old man
To learned Merlin goes,
And there to him in deep distress,

In secret manner shews,

"How in his heart he'd wish to have
A child in time to come,
To be his heir, though it might be
No bigger than his Thumb.

"Of this old Merlin then foretold,
How he his wish should have;
And so a son of stature small
This charmer to him gave."

It is needless to say that this marvellous being was under special fairy
protection.

"Tom Thumb, the which the Fairy Queen
Did give him to his name,
Who with her train of goblins grim
Unto the Christening came."

Of his childhood nothing very particular is told until

"Whereas about Christmas time,
His mother a hog had kill'd,
And Tom would see the pudding made,
For fear it should be spoil'd.

"He sat the candle for to light
Upon the pudding bowl,
Of which there is unto this day,
A pretty Story told.

"For Tom fell in and could not be
For some time after found,
For in the blood and batter he
Was lost and almost drown'd."

In cooking, the pudding behaved so curiously—

"As if the devil had been boil'd
Such was the mother's fear,"

that she at once gave it to a passing tinker, who put it in his "budget;" but
hearing Tom cry out, threw both bag and pudding away; and Tom, by some
unexplained means having got out, returned home, where his mother, when
she went milking, tied him to a thistle to keep him safe. Whilst she was

busy milking, the cow eat the thistle, and Tom with it; but his mother
missed him, and calling for him was answered by Tom from the cow's
interior. Naturally unaccustomed to such internal commotion, the cow took
the earliest opportunity of getting rid of Tom by natural means, and

"Now all besmeared as he was
His mother took him up
And home to bear him hence, poor Lad,
She in her apron put."

*

But Tom from his size was a prey to accidents from which ordinary mortals
were exempt, for we find—

"Now by a raven of great strength,
Away poor Tom was borne,
And carried in the Carrion's beak,
Just like a grain of corn.

"Unto a Giant's castle top
Whereon he let him fall
And soon the Giant swallowed up
His body, cloaths and all."

But Tom, like most small men, was rather self-assertive.

"But in his belly did Tom Thumb
So great a rumbling make
That neither night nor day he could
The smallest quiet take.

"Until the Giant him had spew'd
Full three miles in the sea;
There a large fish took him up,
And bore him hence away."

The fish was sent to King Arthur; Tom was discovered, and taken into high
favour at Court.

"Among the deeds of courtship done,
His Highness did command
That he should dance a galliard brave
Upon the Queen's left hand.

"All which he did, and for the same

Our king his signet gave,
Which Tom about his middle wore
Long time a girdle brave."

The king used to take him out hunting, and Tom was made proficient in
martial exercises—so much so that at one tourney we read:

"And good Sir Lancelot du Lake
Sir Tristram and Sir Guy,
Yet none compar'd to brave Tom Thumb
In acts of Cavalry."

Nay, his prowess was such that he beat all comers, "Sir Khion and the rest;"
even the invincible Lancelot had his horse clean run through.

Indeed, it was through his exertions in this manner that he fell sick and
finally died, and was buried with great pomp. His death is forcibly and
graphically told.

"He being both slender and tall,
The cunning Doctors took
A fine perspective glass thro' which
They took a careful look,

"Into his sickly body down,
And therein saw that death
Stood ready in his wasted guts
To take away his breath."

But to a being so wonderful, ordinary death was a mere nothing.

"The Fairy Queen she lov'd him so
As you shall understand,
That once again she let him go
Down to the Fairy Land.

"The very time that he return'd
Unto the Court again,
It was, as we are well inform'd,
In good King Arthur's reign.

"When in the presence of the King,
He many wonders wrought,
Recited in the Second Part,
Which now is to be bought

"In Bow Church Yard, where is sold
Diverting Histories many;
And pleasant tales as e'er was told
For purchase of One Penny."

* This illustration is from another edition.

The Second Part commences with Tom's return to earth from Fairy Land,
but his début was neither agreeable nor romantic. The Fairy Queen had
determined

"To send him to the lower World,
In triumph once again;
So with a puff or blast him hurl'd
Down with a mighty pain:
With mighty force it happened,
Did fall, as some report,
Into a pan of firmity,
In good King Arthur's* Court.

The Cook that bore it then along
Was struck with a surprise,
For with the fall the firmity
Flew up into his eyes."

The cook let the dish fall, and Tom was extricated; but the Court,
disappointed of dinner, looked very evilly on him.

"Some said he was a fairy elf
And did deserve to die."

To escape this fate, Tom, unperceived, jumped down a miller's throat, but
evidently behaved ungratefully in his asylum of safety:

"Tom often pinched him by the tripes,
And made the Miller roar,
Alas! Alas! ten thousand stripes
Could not have vexed him more."

At length the Miller got rid of him, and Tom was turned into a river, and
swallowed by a salmon. The same thing occurred to him as before. The fish
was caught, sent to the king, and Tom found by his old enemy the cook,
who had not forgiven the loss of the firmity.

"He stared strait, and said, Alas!
How comes this fellow here?
Strange things I find have come to pass,
He shall not now get clear.
Because he vow'd to go thro' stitch,
And him to Justice bring,
He stuck a fork into his breech
And bore him to the King."

The king, however, was busy, and ordered Tom to be brought before him
another time; so the cook kept him in custody in a mouse-trap.

The king, on hearing Tom's story, pardoned him "for good King Arthur's
sake," took him into favour, and allowed him to go hunting with him,
mounted on a mouse.

This, however, was the cause of his second death.

"For coming near a Farmer's house,
Close by a Forest side,
A Cat jump'd out and caught the mouse
Whereon Tom Thumb did ride.
She took him up between her Jaws,
And scower'd up a tree,
And as she scratch'd him with her claws,
He cry'd out, Woe is me!
He laid his hand upon his sword,
And ran her thro' and thro';
And he for fear of falling roar'd,
Puss likewise cry'd out Mew.
It was a sad and bloody fight
Between the Cat and he;
Puss valu'd not this worthy Knight,
But scratch'd him bitterly."

He was taken home; but his wounds were too bad, and he died, and was
taken again to Fairy Land, and did not reappear on earth till Thunston's (?)
reign.

* The chronology is somewhat involved. The king could not have been King Arthur, for
Tom was not remembered by him, and at the end of the book it says—

"And to his memory they built

A monument of gold
Upon King Edgars dagger hilt
Most glorious to behold."

The Third Part opens with the Fairy Queen again despatching Tom to earth,
and also, as before, his advent is unpropitious.

"Where he descended thro the Air,
This poor unhappy man,
By sad mishap as you shall hear
Fell in a close stool pan."

He was rescued, but narrowly escaped death, and was brought before King
Thunston.

"In shameful sort Tom Thumb appear'd
Before his Majesty,
But grown so weak could not be heard,
Which caused his malady."

He recovered and was taken into high favour by the king, who

"For lodgings—Now the King resolv'd
A palace should be fram'd
The walls of this most stately place
Were lovely to behold.
For workmanship none can take place
It look'd like beaten gold
The height thereof was but a span,
And doors but one inch wide.
The inward parts were all Japan,
Which was in him great pride."

And not only was he lodged so magnificently, but the king did all in his
power to make him happy.

"All recreation thought could have
Or life could e'er afford,
All earthly Joys that he would crave,
At his desire or word.

* * * * * *

"Of smallest mice that could be found,
For to draw his coach appears
Such stately steeds his wish to crown
Long tails with cropped ears."

But the morals of this ungrateful little wretch had evidently grown lax
during his stay in Fairy Land, and he forgot all his obligations to his
benefactor.

"For his desires were lustful grown
Against her Majesty,
Finding of her one day alone,
Which proved his tragedy."

The queen was naturally furious.

"That nothing would her wrath appease
To free her from all strife,
Or set her mind at perfect ease,
Until she had his life."

Tom hid himself, and tried to escape on the back of a butterfly; but the
insect flew into the palace, and Tom was captured. He was duly tried, and
found guilty.

"So the King his sentence declar'd,
How hanged he should be,
And that a gibbet should be rear'd,
And none should set him free.
After his sentence thus was past,
Unto a prison he was led.
For in a Mousetrap he was fast,
He had no other bed.

"At last by chance the cat him spy'd,
And for a mouse did take,
She him attacked on each side,
And did his prison break.
The Cat perceiving her mistake,
Away she fled with speed,
Which made poor Tom to flight betake,
Being thus from prison freed.
Resolving there no more to dwell
But break the Kings decree,
Into a spider's web he fell,

And could not hence get free.
The spider watching for his prey
Took Tom to be a fly,
And seized him without delay,
Regarding not his cry.
The blood out of his body drains,
He yielded up his breath;
Thus he was freed from all his pains,
By his unlook'd for death."

Thus sadly ended the favourite of immortals and of kings; but, from the fact
that we hear no more of his going to Fairy Land, it is probable that his
immoral conduct could not be condoned by the "good people."

The Shoemaker's Glory

OR THE

PRINCELY HISTORY

OF THE

GENTLE CRAFT

SHEWING

What renowned Princes, Heroes, and Worthies have been of
the Shoemakers Trade, both in this and in other Kingdoms.
Likewise why it is called the Gentle Craft; and that they say a
Shoemaker's son is a Prince born &c.

Newcastle: Printed at the Printing office in Pilgrim Street.

THE

SHOEMAKER'S GLORY.

Or, The Princely History of the

GENTLE CRAFT

SHEWING

What renowned Princes, Heroes, and Worthies have
been of the Shoemakers Trade, both in this and other
Kingdoms. Likewise, Why it is called the Gentle Craft;
and that they say, A Shoemakers Son is a Prince born.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard. Bow Lane London.

This book is in reality two: one, the history of Sir Hugh, and the other, of
Crispin and Crispianus. Sir Hugh seems to have been the son of Arviragus,
King of Powisland in Britain, and Genevra, daughter of a king in North
Wales. He went abroad for his education, and there distinguished himself by
slaying monsters and giants, and by fighting against the Saracens—so much
so, that he was knighted by the Roman Emperor, and promised one of his
daughters as a wife; but this he would not have, although the princess loved
him dearly.

He returned home, and whilst visiting Donvallo, King of Flintshire, fell in
love with his daughter Winnifred. Finding her one day reading in her bower
in the garden, he declared his love, but was courteously, though firmly,
declined by the princess. Grieved at this disappointment, Sir Hugh went
again abroad, was shipwrecked, and finally returned to Harwich in a

destitute condition. Here he fell in with some shoemakers, and tarried with
them a whole year, learning their trade.

In Chap-books one does not look for extreme historical accuracy, so we are
not surprised that Diocletian came over to England, and sent Winnifred to
prison for refusing to worship idols. Sir Hugh heard of this, and in order to
join her, spoke loudly in favour of the Christian religion, and soon had his
wish gratified. In prison, journeymen shoemakers brought him relief, and
were so kind to him, that he styled them all gentlemen of the "gentle craft;"
but the tale winds up informing us that "Sir Hugh and Winnifred remained a
long time in prison, and were at last, for their steadfastness to the Christian
religion, put to death by order of this cruel tyrant."

Crispin and Crispianus seem to have lived in Britain in the reign of
Maximinius, and were the sons of King Logrid. Maximinius sent for them
in order to slay them, but their mother, Queen Esteda, disguised them, and
caused them to flee. They wandered to Faversham, where, tired out, they
knocked at the door of a shoemaker, who took them in, and finally
apprenticed them to himself. Crispianus, however, could not "stick to his
last," so he went to assist the King of France against the Persians; whilst
Crispin, whose master was the Court shoemaker, being a handsome young
man, used to be sent there with shoes, and the Princess Ursula fell violently
in love with him, declared her passion for him, and they were privately
married under an oak tree in the park.

Crispianus, meanwhile, had been performing prodigies of valour, and at
length returned to Maximinius with letters of commendation from the
French king; whilst the Princess Ursula, whose confinement drew nigh, did
not know how to screen herself. Love, however, is proverbially sharp-
witted; so a false rumour of an enemy having landed being spread by means
"of firing a gun," she escaped in the confusion, and took refuge in the
shoemaker's house, where a son was born, whence the saying, "A
shoemaker's son is a prince born." Maximinius received Crispianus with
effusion, sent for his mother, acknowledged his birth, and would have given
him his daughter in marriage could she have been found. At this juncture
the young couple turned up, were forgiven, "and they lived very happy all
their lives afterwards."

The original of this book seems to have been written by Thomas Deloney;
an edition of it was printed in 1598, and it was entered on the Stationers'
Books on October 19, 1597, as "a booke called the gentle Crafte, intreatinge
of Shoomakers."

The Famous History of the Valiant

LONDON PRENTICE

Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.

A youth named Aurelius was the son of wealthy parents in the county of
Chester, and, being of singular beauty, caused a flutter in all the feminine
hearts in his neighbourhood; one young lady, named Dorinda, even going so

far as to write him a most unmaidenlike love letter, which, being dropped
by accident, was found by one of the young lady's lovers, who, taking
counsel with three others, set upon Aurelius as he was going through a
wood. It is needless to say that he speedily overcame them; but his parents,
fearing revenge, and wishing to remove him from the wiles of Dorinda, sent
him to London, and bound him apprentice to a Turkey merchant on London
Bridge. Here the young gentleman, after some time, must needs fall in love
with his master's daughter; but, unlike the usual course of events in such
cases, his passion was not reciprocated, so in dudgeon he applied for, and
obtained, the merchant's leave for him to go to Turkey as his factor.

He set out with a gallant equipage, and was well received by the English
merchants in Turkey. Merchants at that time do not seem to have been of
the same prosaic class as they are now; for, on the occasion of a tournament
held in honour of a marriage, Aurelius must go fully armed, in order to take
part in the joust. His blood boiled to see the knights of other nations
overthrown by the Turkish champions; so he joined in the fray, soon
disposed of the Turkish chivalry, and killed Grodam, the son-in-law of the
Great Turk, who, in his rage, ordered "the English boy" to be sent to prison,
and afterwards to be cast alive to two lions, who were kept fasting many
days.

"The day of his death, as appointed being come, and the King, his nobles,
and all his ladies seated to behold the execution, the brave Aurelius was
immediately brought forth in his shirt of Cambric, and the drawers of white
Satin, embroidered with gold and a crimson cap on his head, but had scarce
time to bow respectfully to the ladies, who greatly praised his manly beauty,
and began highly to pity his misfortunes ere the lions were let loose, who at
the sight of their prey, casting their eyes upon him, began to roar horridly,
insomuch that the spectators trembled and beheld Aurelius whom death
could not daunt, laying aside all fear, as they came fiercely to him, with
open mouths, he thrust his hands into their throats and ere they had power
to get from his strong Arms, he forced out their hearts, and laid them dead
at his feet, demanding of the King what other dangerous enterprises they
had to put on him, as he would gladly do it for the Queen and his country's
sake; when immediately the Emperor descended from his throne, tenderly
embracing him, swearing he was some Angel withal pardoning him, and

gave him the beautiful Teoraza his daughter in marriage, with great riches,
who for his sake became a Christian; and after spending some time in that
place, they both returned to England with great joy, where they lived many
years very loving and happy."

THE

LOVER'S QUARREL
OR

CUPID'S TRIUMPH
Being the Pleasant and Delightful
HISTORY
OF

FA I R R O S A M O N D
WHO WAS BORN IN

SCOTLAND.

Newcastle: Printed in this Year.

This metrical romance is more commonly known by the name of "Tommy
Potts," and somewhat extravagantly recounts the love between him and fair
Rosamond, daughter of the Earl of Arundel, who, being wooed by Lord
Phœnix, confessed her passion to him, to his natural and great disgust; but
their marriage being settled by their friends, as a last resource she sent her

little foot page to Tommy Potts, telling him of her dilemma, and begging
him to meet her on Guildford Green. Tommy, whose position was only that
of a servant at Strawberry Hall, sent back word by her messenger that he
would be there, and went and asked his master for leave, which his master
not only readily granted, but offered to enrich him so that their fortunes
might be equalized; also, he wished to furnish him with an armed force—
both of which offers Tommy declined. He met Rosamond and Lord Phœnix
at Guildford Green, was taunted by the latter with his menial position, and
challenged him to a course of spears, at a future day, on that very spot. His
master behaved very kindly to him, and reiterated his offers, which were
again refused, Potts only accepting the loan of an old white horse and a suit
of armour. The combatants duly met, and Tom Potts was run through the
thick of the thigh. He bound up his wound with his handkerchief, and
continued the combat, this time running Lord Phœnix through the right arm.
He doctored Lord Phœnix, and offered to resume the fight, which his
lordship refused, and they agreed to refer their claims to the lady herself.
She, of course, chose Tommy; but to prove her still more, Lord Phœnix
pretended to fight with Tommy behind a wall, and reported to her that he
had slain him. The lady declared she would spend all her fortune rather than
Lord Phœnix should not be hanged, and then swooned. From this time
everything prospered with the lovers. Lord Arundel joyfully gave his
consent to their marriage, and made Tommy his heir.

There is a Second Part, but it lacks the interest of the first.

I cannot trace any connection between the Chap-book and the frontispiece;
but it is evidently the proper thing, as it occurs in the same place in the
black-letter edition of 1675, which is the earliest I can find. It is entitled,
"The Lovers Quarrel, or Cupid's Triumph being The Pleasant History of fair
Rosamond of Scotland. Being Daughter to the Lord Arundel whose Love
was obtained by the Valour of Tommy Pots: who conquered the Lord
Phenix, and wounded him, and after obtained her to be his wife. Being very
delightful to read. London. Printed by A. P. for F. Coles, T. Vere and J.
Wright."

THE

HI S TO RY

OF THE

KING and the
COBLER

Part the First

Printed and sold at the London and Middlesex Printing
Office 81. Shoe Lane Holborn.

"It was the custom of King Henry 8 to walk late in the night into the City
disguised, to observe how the constables and watch performed their duty;
not only in guarding the City gates but also diligently watching the inner
part of the city, that they might prevent those dangers and casualities that
happens to great and populous Cities, in the night time—This he did
oftentimes, without the least discovery who he was, returning home to
Whitehall early in the morning.—Now on his return home through the
Strand he took notice of a certain Cobler, who was always up at work
whistling and singing every morning, so he resolved to see him, in order
which he immediately knocks the heel off his shoe by hitting it against the
Stones."

The King gives the shoe to be mended, and tells the cobbler to bring it to
him at the opposite inn when done. The cobbler obeys. The king gives him
liquor, and they hobnob in the most familiar manner; the king telling him
his name was Harry Tudor, that he belonged to the Court, and should be
very glad to see the cobbler whenever he liked to call. In fact, they became
so friendly, that the cobbler would insist on the king's going over to his
cellar, and trying some wonderful brown ale and a Cheshire cheese; and
there they kept it up until Joan, the cobbler's wife (who slept in the same
apartment), awoke, and then the King retired.

The cobbler sadly missed his boon companion, and at length, with his wife's
permission, he started to pay him a visit, Joan having made him as spruce as
possible.

On his arrival at Whitehall, he asked for Harry Tudor, and by the King's
express command, was immediately ushered into his presence.

*

* This illustration is from another edition.
This so bewildered the cobbler that he turned and fled; but being captured,
and once more brought to the king, the latter, on hearing his tale, bids him
go to the cellar and he will send Harry Tudor to him.

The king disguises himself and joins the cobbler, and they have a jovial
tune together, until their noise attracts some of the nobility, who enter, and
then the cobbler discovers who his boon companion really is.

Bluff King Hal, however, must needs reward his humble friend, so he gave
him a pension of forty marks yearly, with the freedom of his cellar, and
made him "one of the courtiers"—a position which he must have graced,
judging by his deportment as depicted in the illustrations.

*

* This illustration is from another edition.
The earliest book on this subject I can find, is the "Cobler turned Courtier,
being a Pleasant Humour between K. Henry 8th and a Cobler," 1680,
quarto.

The First Part of the

F R YA R A N D B O Y.

OR THE

Young P I P E R ' S pleasant Pastime

CONTAINING

The witty Adventures betwixt the Fryar and Boy in relation to
his Step Mother, whom he fairly fitted for her unmerciful
cruelty.

Newcastle: Printed in this Year.

THE

FRIAR AND BOY

OR THE

Young P I P E R ' S

PLEASANT PA S T I M E

CONTAINING

His witty Pranks in Relation to his Step Mother,
whom he fitted for her unkind Treatment.

Part the First

Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard London

The father of the "boy" Jack had married a second time, and Jack's
stepmother behaved most harshly to him, and half starved him.

"Nay, tho' his meat and drink was poor
He had not half enough.
Yet, if he seem'd to crave for more
His ears she strait did cuff."

His father, however, behaved kindly, and to get the lad away, proposed he
should look after the cows all day, taking his provision with him. One day,
an old man came to him and begged for food, on which Jack offered him his
dinner, which the old man thankfully took and eat.

Indeed, he was so grateful that he told Jack he would give him three things,
whatever he liked to choose. Jack replied—

"The first thing I'd have thee bestow
On me without dispute,
Pray let it be a cunning bow,
With which I birds may shoot.
Well thou shalt have a bow, my son,
I have it here in store,
No archer ever yet had one
Which shot so true before.
Take notice well of what I say.
Such virtues are in this
That wink or look another way
The mark you shall not miss."

Jack also asked for a pipe, and the old man said—

"A pipe I have for thee my son,
The like was never known,
So full of mirth and mickle joy,
That whensoe'er 'tis blown,
All living creatures that shall hear
The sweet and pleasant sound
They shan't be able to forbear
But dance and skip around."

The third thing Jack chose was, that whenever his stepmother looked
crossly at him, she should, against her will, behave in a rude and unseemly
manner, which was also granted.

The old man left him; and at evening Jack took the cattle home, and as he
went, he tried his pipe with wonderful effect.

"His Cows began to caper then,
The Bulls and Oxen too,
And so did five and twenty men
Who came this sight to view,
Along the road he piping went,
The Bulls came dancing after,
Which was a fit of merriment,
That caus'd a deal of laughter.
For why, a friar in his gown
Bestrides the red cow's back,
And so rides dancing thro' the town,
After this young wag Jack."

He found his father at home, and telling him how he had disposed of his
dinner, the good man handed him a capon; at which his mother-in-law
frowned, and, to her great disgust, her punishment was prompt, and she had
to retire, Jack bantering her. She vowed vengeance, and

"A Friar whom she thought a saint,
Came there to lodge that night;
To whom she made a sad complaint,
How Jack had sham'd her quite.

Said she, For sweet St. Francis sake,
To-morrow in the field,
Pray thrash him till his bones you break
No shew of comfort yield."

*

* This illustration is from another edition.

The friar went the next morning to give Jack his thrashing, but Jack begged
him not to be angry, and he would show him something; so he took his bow
and shot a pheasant, which fell in a thorn bush. The friar ran to secure the
bird, and when well in the bush, Jack played his pipe, with woeful effects as
regards the friar, who in his involuntary dancing got literally torn to pieces,
till he begged Jack—

"For Good St. Francis sake,
Let me not dancing die."

He naturally told his pitiful tale when he reached Jack's father's house, and
the father asked him if it were true, and if so, to play the pipe and make
them dance. The friar had already experienced the sensation, and

"The Friar he did quake for fear
And wrung his hands withal.
He cry'd, and still his eyes did wipe,
That work kills me almost;
Yet if you needs must hear the pipe,
Pray bind me to a post."

This was done; the pipe struck up, and every one began their involuntary
dance, to the delight of the father, and the great disgust of the stepmother
and the friar, who

"was almost dead,
While others danced their fill
Against the post he bang'd his head,
For he could not stand still.
His ragged flesh the rope did tear,
And likewise from his crown,
With many bangs and bruises there
The blood did trickle down."

The lad led them all into the street, where every one joined in the mad
scene, until his father asked him to stop. Then the friar summoned him
before the proctor, and the gravity of the court was disturbed by Jack's
playing his pipe at the proctor's request. All had to dance, nor would Jack
desist until he had a solemn promise that he should go free. Here the First
Part ends, as also does the first printed version of the romance, which is
entitled, "Here begynneth a mery Geste of the Frere and the Boye,
emprynted at London in Flete strete at the sygne of the sonne by Wynkyn de
Worde." There is no date, and there is a copy in the public library,
Cambridge. It has been reprinted both by Ritson and Hazlitt. Ritson says,
"From the mention made in v. 429 of the city of 'Orlyance,' and the
character of the 'Offycial,' it may be conjectured that this poem is of French
extraction; and, indeed, it is not at all improbable that the original is extant
in some collection of old Fabliaux."

It is a most popular Chap-book, and went through many editions. A Second
Part was afterwards added, but it is coarser in its humour. The Newcastle
frontispiece is extremely quaint.

The Pleasant History of

JACK HORNER

CONTAINING

His witty tricks and pleasant pranks, which he play'd from his
youth to his riper years: Right pleasant and delightful for
winter and summer recreations.

Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.

This is somewhat similar to "The Friar and the Boy," but is even coarser.

"Jack Horner was a pretty lad,
Near London he did dwell,
His father's heart he made full glad
His mother lov'd him well;
She often set him on her lap,
To turn him dry beneath
And fed him with sweet sugar'd pap,
Because he had no teeth.
While little Jack was sweet and young,
If he by chance should cry,
His mother pretty sonnets sung,
With a Lulla ba by;
With such a dainty, curious tone,
As Jack sat on her knee,

So that e'er he could go alone,
He sung as well as she.
A pretty boy, of curious wit,
All people spoke his praise
And in the corner he would sit
In Christmas holy-days:
When friends they did together meet,
To pass away the time;
Why, little Jack, he sure would eat
His Christmas pye in rhime.
And said, Jack Horner, in the corner,
Eats good Christmas pye,
And with his thumbs pulls out the plumbs,
And said Good boy am I.
These pretty verses which he made
Upon his Christmas cheer,
Did gain him love, as it is said,
Of all both far and near."

Jack Horner was a dwarf, and never exceeded thirteen inches in height. His
first exploit was to frighten a tailor who stole some of his cloth, by putting
on the head of a goat lately killed, and pretending to be the devil. He had a
fight with a cook-maid who chastised him for making a sop in the dripping-
pan, in which he got the best of it. An old hermit being desirous of a jug of
beer, Jack brought it to him, and in return the hermit presented him with a
coat in which he should be invisible, and a pair of enchanted pipes, both of
which he tried on some fiddlers, making them dance sorely against their
will. He had many adventures, but his last was with a giant who had seized
and imprisoned a knight's daughter. Jack armed himself, and mounting on a
badger, rode down the giant's throat, and with his pipes and sword created
such a disturbance in his inside, that the giant died, and Jack delivered the
lady, whom he afterwards married.

THE

MAD PRANKS

OF

TOM TRAM

Son in Law to Mother Winter

TO WHICH IS ADDED.

His Merry Jests, odd Conceits and Pleasant Tales, being
very delightful to read.

Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.

THE

MAD PRANKS

OF

Tom Tram

Son in Law to Mother Winter

TO WHICH IS ADDED.

His Merry Jests, odd Conceits and pleasant
Tales, very delightful to Read.

The First Part.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard, Bow Lane London.

"There was an old woman, named Mother Winter, who had a son in Law,
whose name was Thomas, who though he was at man's estate, yet would do
nothing but what he pleased, which grieved his mother to the heart. One day
being at market, she heard a proclamation that those who would not work
should be whipped; On this she ran home and told Tom of the proclamation
that was issued out; replied Tom, I will not break the decree. Upon which
the old woman left her son, and went to market.

"She was no sooner gone, but Tom looked into a stone pot she used to keep
her small beer in, and seeing the beer did not work, he with his cartwhip
lays on the pot as hard as he could. The people seeing him, told his mother,
who said, The knave will be hanged, and in that note went home—Tom
seeing her coming, laid on as hard as he could drive, and broke the pots,
which made the old woman say, O what hast thou done, thou villain? O
dear mother said he, you told me it was proclaimed, that those who did not
work must be whipped; and I have so often seen our pots work so hard that
they foamed at the mouth; but these two lazy knaves will never work. So I

have whipped them to death to shew their fellows to work, or never look me
in the face again."

Mother Winter once sent him to buy a pennyworth of soap, and bade him be
sure, and bring her the change back safely; so he got two men with a hand
barrow to carry the soap, and hired four men with "brown bills" to guard it,
and gave them the elevenpence for their pains. But Tom was quite as much
knave as fool, and, as the anecdotes relating to him are not very amusing,
only those illustrating the Newcastle title-page will be made use of.

Whilst staying at an inn, he saw some turkeys in the yard. He killed two of
them by running pins into their heads, and then persuaded his hostess to
throw them away, as there was a sickness among the birds. Of course he
took them away with him, but, finding them heavy to carry, had recourse to
stratagem to help himself. He saw a man leading his horse down the hill,
and "Tom fell down, crying as if he had broke a leg and made great
lamentation of his being five or six miles from any town, and was likely to
perish. The man asked where he lived? Tom replied, With such a Knight.
He, knowing the gentleman, set him on his horse. Tom then bid him give
him his master's turkies, and then galloped away as fast as he could, crying
out I shall be killed, I shall be killed—The man seeing he was gone without
the turkies, knew not what to do, for he thought if he left the turkies behind
the Knight might take it amiss. So carrying them on foot, lugging, fretting,
and sweating to the next town, where he hired a horse to overtake Tom, but
could not till he arrived at the Knight's house, where Tom stood ready,
calling to him, Oh! now I see thou art an honest fellow; I had thought you
had set me on a headstrong horse on purpose to deceive me of my two
turkies. But he replied Pox on your turkies and you too; I hope you will pay
me for the horse I got."

The story of the house on fire in the top left hand of the title-page is thus
told: "It happened one evening there came a number of Gypsies to town,
whom Tom meeting, asked what they did there? they said, To tell people
their fortunes, that they might avoid approaching danger. Where do you lie
to night said Tom? We cannot tell, said they. If you can be content to lie in
the straw, says Tom, I will show you where you may lie dry and warm.
They thanked him, and said they would tell him his fortune for nothing. He
thanked them, and conveyed them to a little thatched house filled with
straw, and which had a ditch round it, close to the wall of the house, and
there left them to take their rest, drawing up the bridge after him. In the
dead of the night he got a long pole with a large whisp of straw, and set the
house on fire. One of the Gypsies seeing the house in flames, calling to the
rest, and thinking to cross the bridge, fell into the ditch, crying out for help;
while by Tom's means great part of the town stood to see the Jest. As the
Gypsies came out of the ditch, the people let them go to the fire to warm
themselves; when Tom told them, That seeing they could not foretel their
own fortunes he would, which was on the morrow morning they should be
whipt for cheats, and in the afternoon charged for setting the house on fire.

"The Gypsies hearing this having made haste to dry themselves, got out of
the town before day break, and never came there afterwards."

The right-hand upper portion of the engraving represents Tom cutting some
shavings of wood from the gallows, to put in the ale of some persons who
had played a practical joke upon him.

There are three parts, but the other two are uninteresting both as to matter
and illustrations.

THE

Birth, Life, and Death

OF

JOHN FRANKS

With the Pranks he played
Though a meer Fool

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard. London.

From the preface, and its general internal evidence, this Chap-book seems
to be recollections of a real person, who was locally famous, and whose
actions were traditionally handed down. Only a few of the sayings and
deeds of this half-witted jester are worth repeating.

The Preface.

"John Franks, the reputed son of John Ward, was born at Much Eaton in
Essex, within three miles of Dunmow. He had no friends to take care of
him, but his being such a fool was the cause of his well being; for every one
was in love with the sport he made.

"When he was grown to be of man's stature, there was a worthy Knight,
who took him to keep, where he did many strange pranks.

"He was a comely person, and had a good complexion, his hair was of a
dark flaxen. He was of a middle stature, and good countenance. If his
tongue had not betrayed his folly, he might have been taken for a wise
man."

"The Knight where Jack lived kept a poor taylor in his house, who lay with
the fool.

"One morning they wondered that the taylor nor Jack did not come down;
one of the servants going up, found the door fast, and calling to them, Jack
only answered them; so calling more assistance and breaking open the door,
they found the taylor dead in his bed with his neck broke, and the fool set
astride on a high beam, whence he could not come down without help. They
asked Jack how it was? he said the Devil came upstairs, clink, clink, clink,

and came to my bed side, and I cried, Good devil do not take me take the
taylor; so the devil broke the taylor's neck, and set me upon the beam. Jack
was strictly examined at Chelmsford Assizes, and several times after; but he
always kept in one story, and never seemed concerned."

"Jack was often upon the ramble; one day he went up to a yeoman's house,
who loved to make sport with him. The servants being all busy and abroad,
none but the fool and he was together. Mr. Sorrel, says Jack, shall we play
at Blind Man's Buff? Ay, says he, with all my heart, Jack—You shall be
blinded says Jack—That I will, Jack, says he. So pinning a napkin about his
eyes and head; Now turn about, says Jack; but you see Mr. Sorrel, you see;
No, Jack, said he I do not see. Jack shuffled about the kitchen, in order to
catch him, still crying, you see, but when he found he did not see he ran to
the chimney and whipt down some puddings, and put them into his pockets;
this he did every time he came to that end of the room, till he had filled his
pockets and breeches. The doors being open, away runs Jack, leaving the
good man blindfolded, who wondering he did not hear the fool, cried out,
Jack, Jack; but finding no answer, he pulled off the napkin, and seeing the
fool gone, and that he had taken so many puddings with him, was so
enraged that he sent his blood hounds after him; which when Jack
perceived, he takes a pudding and flings it at them; the dogs smelling the
pudding, Jack gained ground the time: and still as the dogs pursued, he

threw a pudding at them; and this he did till he come to an house. This was
spread abroad to the shame and vexation of the farmer.

"Some time after Mr. Sorrel and some other tenants went to see the fool's
master. Jack espying them, went and told his Lady that Mr. Sorrel was
come. The lady being afraid the fool might offend him by speaking of the
puddings, told Jack he should be whipped if he mentioned them. But when
they were at dinner, Jack went and shaked Mr. Sorel by the hand, saying,
How is it Mr. Sorel then, seeming to whisper, but speaking so loud that all
the Company heard him, said, Not a word of the puddings, Mr. Sorel.—At
this they all burst into a laughter, but the honest man was so ashamed, that
he never came there again. Ever since it is a bye-word to say, Not a word of
the puddings."

"A Justice of the Peace being at his Lord's table one day, who delighted to
jest with every one, and Jack being in the room to make them some sport,
and having then a new calfskin suit on, red and white spotted, and a young
puppy in his arms, much of the same colour; he said to the justice, as he
jogged him, Is not this puppy like me? The justice said It is very much like
thee; now there are two puppies Jack, ha! ha! ha!—Jack after going
downstairs to dinner, returned again and striking the Justice on the back
with his fist the Justice seemed angry. How is it Justice, said Jack, are you

angry, let us shake hands and be friends. The Justice gave him his hand, and
the fool cried out laughing, Now here are two fools, Justice, two fools, two
fools. At this they all laughed heartily, to see this great wit affronted by a
fool; especially a gentleman whom the Justice had but a few minutes before
abused by his jesting; for he was of that temper that he would jest but never
take one.

It is not safe to play with edged tools
Nor is it good to Jest too much with fools."

S i m p l e S i m o n ' s M i s f o rt u n e s

AND HIS

Wife Margery's Cruelty

WHICH BEGAN

The very next Morning after their
Marriage

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard London

Simple Simon married a shrew named Margery, who brought him a
"considerable fortune; forty shillings in money, and a good milch cow, four
fat weathers, with half a dozen ewes and lambs, likewise geese, hens, and
turkies; also a sow and pigs, with other moveables." She began scolding
him the day after marriage, and the poor fellow found out he had a hard
bargain. "Ud swaggers, I think I have a woeful one now." He went out, and
meeting with one Jobson, an old friend, proceeded to an alehouse with him;
but his wife, coming there with her gossips, "snatched up Jobsons oaken
staff from off the table, and gave poor Simon such a clank upon the noddle,

as made the blood spin," and afterwards treated Jobson to a sound
thrashing, and then she and her gossips got "as drunk as fishwomen."

Simon sneaked away, but when he got home he found his wife before him,
and "not forgetting the fault he had committed, she invented a new kind of
punishment; for having a wide chimney, wherein they used to dry bacon,
she, taking him at a disadvantage, tied him hand and foot, bound him in a

basket, and by the help of a rope drew him up to the beam of the chimney,
and left him there to take his lodging the second night after his wedding;
with a small smoaky fire under him; so that in the morning he was reezed
like a red herring. But at length he caused his wife to shew him so much
pity as to let him down."

He was undoubtedly a great fool, for, his wife having sent him to the mill
with a sack of corn, he was induced by a stranger to lay it on the back of his
spare horse, and of course the man made off with it.

Simon had to take a basket of eggs to market, but finding that "two butter
women had fallen out, and to that degree, that they had taken one another
by the quoif, their hair and their fillets flying about their ears," he essayed
to part them, but got pushed down, and his eggs were all broken. The
constable, coming up, thought they were drunk, and clapped them in the
stocks, where, being between the combatants, he had to endure their
scolding. On his release he went home, only to endure his customary
beating. So he lay all night in the hog-stye, and on the morrow, "in the
presence of some of his dearest friends he begged pardon on his knees, of
his sweet wife Margery."

One day his wife went to a "gossiping," leaving Simon at home to fill and
boil the kettle. He made the fire and hung the kettle over it, then started to
fill his pail at the well. He put down his pail in order to stop a runaway ox,
which led him a chase of three or four miles. On his return he found his pail
stolen, and, when he reached home, the bottom was burnt out of the kettle.
When his wife came back, it is needless to say that "she let fly an earthen

pot at his head, which made the blood run about his ears. This done she
took him by the collar and cuft him about the kitchen at a most horrid rate."

No doubt he was very vexing, as he could not be trusted with the most
ordinary concerns of life. He had to get some soap, but, whilst passing over
a bridge, he was frightened by some crows, and dropped the money into the
water. Knowing what the consequences would be, he stripped and went into
the water to search after it, but a larcenous old ragman came by and stole
his clothes. He had to go home naked, where his wife administered his
usual correction—"taking the dog whip, she jerked poor Simon about,
making him dance the Canaries for two hours."

Many more mishaps and punishments happened to the poor wretch, until at
last even he could stand it no longer; so he attempted to poison himself, but,
by mistake, drank his wife's bottle of sack (vide frontispiece), and
consequently got drunk. He was duly cudgelled; but, either this
determination of his, frightened his wife, or she saw the folly of going on in
the way they were doing, for the tale winds up with, "For now he leads a
happy life."

THE

HISTORY

OF

TOM LONG the
Carrier

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard
Bow Lane

Although the address "To the Reader" says—

"Of all the Toms that ever yet was nam'd,
Was ever Tom like Tom Long fam'd,
Tom Tram, who mad pranks shews,
Unto Tom Long, will prove a Goose.
Tom Thumb is dumb until the pudding creep,
In which he was entomb'd, then out doth peep.
The fool may go to school, but ne'er be taught,

Such rare conceits with which Tom Long is fraught.
Tom Ass but for his ugly ears, might pass,
Since no such jewels as our Tom he wears.
Tom Tell Truth is but froth, the truth to tell,
From all the Toms, Tom Long doth bear the bell,"

yet the Chap-book is very dreary fun, not even being enlivened by any good
illustrations—those supplied belonging to other books—but it is valuable
for its frontispiece, which represents a Chapman of Elizabethan or Jacobean
time, a veritable Autolycus. The other edition in the British Museum,
"Printed and Sold at Sympson's Warehouse in Stone Cutter Street, Fleet
Market," has a bad copy of this engraving.

THE

WORLD

TURNED

UPSIDE DOWN

OR THE

FOLLY OF MAN

EXEMPLIFIED

IN TWELVE COMICAL RELATIONS

UPON

UNCOMMON SUBJECTS

Illustrated with Twelve curious Cuts
Truly adapted to each Story

Printed and Sold in London

"Philosophers of old will tell us,
As Tycho, and such merry fellows,
That round this habitable ball
The beamy sun did yearly fall;
No wonder then the world is found
By change of place Turn'd Upside Down;
If revolutions strange appear
Within the compass of the sphere;
If men and things succession know,
And no dependance reigns below;
Since tis allow'd the world we dwell in,
Is always round the sun a sailing;
Experience to our knowledge brings;
That times may change as well as things,
And art than nature wiser grown,
Turns every object upside down,
Whim's epidemic takes her rise,
And constancy's become a vice.
He that to do is fortunate,
The darling minions of his fate!

To morrow feels his fate's displeasure,
Spoil'd his hoarded idol treasure!
And like this man, his emblem shows,
A sudden revolution knows.
His fortune grows profoundly scurvy
Turns the poor earthworms topsy turvy,
Becomes the tennis ball of fools,
Things quite form'd out of nature's rules.
Such as you see Atlas bear
Upon their backs this mighty sphere.
The young, the old, the middle aged,
Are all in this great task engaged;
And strive with wondrous eagerness
Which all the greatest part possess.
Since folly then has got the ascendant,
He's most a fool that han't a hand in't;
And as the mad brain'd world runs round
Still keeps towards the rising ground."

This is quite enough for a specimen of the style of this poem, and, luckily,
the illustrations explain themselves.

THE OX TURNED FARMER.

THE OLD SOLDIER TURNED NURSE.

THE REWARD OF ROGUERY, OR THE
ROASTED COOK.

THE DUEL OF THE PALFRIES.

THE MAD SQUIRE AND HIS FATAL
HUNTING.

THE OX TURNED BUTCHER.

GALLANTRY—A LA MODE—OR THE
LOVERS CATCHED
BY THE BIRD.

THE HONEST ASS AND MILLER.

THE HORSE TURNED GROOM.

THE WATER WONDER, OR FISHES LORDS
OF THE
CREATION.

SUN, MOON, STARS AND EARTH
TRANSPOSED.

A Strange and Wonderful

RELATION

OF THE

OLD WOMAN

WHO WAS DROWNED AT

RATCLIFFE HIGHWAY

A Fortnight ago.

TO WHICH IS ADDED

The Old Woman's Dream,

A little after her Death.

Part the First.

Printed and Sold in London.

This book is somewhat of a curiosity; it is the only one of its kind in the
whole series of Chap-books, and has been several times reprinted in the
country. It is illustrated, in every edition, with engravings which have no
connection with the text, which, however, would be an impossible task, as
the following page or so of the commencement will show. The frontispiece
has nothing whatever to do with the book, but it is curious and valuable, as

giving a representation of the ducking-stool. There are two parts, but they
both consist of such rodomontade as the following:—

"It was the last Monday Morning about four o'clock in the afternoon before
sun rising, going over Highgate Hill I asked him if the Old Woman was
dead that was drowned at Ratcliffe Highway a few nights ago. He told me
he could not tell, but if I went a little farther I should meet with two young
men on horseback, riding under a mare, in a blue red jerkin and a pair of
white freestone breeches, and they would give intelligence. So when I came
up with the women they thought I was a Hector that was come to rob them
and therefore ran to me, but I most furiously pursued before them, so that
one of them for meer madness, seeing him dead, drew out his sword and
directly killed him. The horse for vexation seeing himself dead ran away as
fast as he could, leaving them to go on foot upon another horse's back forty
miles—Friend, said I, I mean you no good, but pray inform me if the Old
woman be dead yet that was drowned at Ratcliff Highway a fortnight ago?
and they told me they could not tell; but if I went a little farther I should
meet with two women driving an empty cartful of apples, and a Mill Stone
in the midst, and they would give me particular intelligence—But when I
came up with them they would not satisfy me neither; but told me if I went
down to the waterside, there lived one Sir John Vang, and he would give me
true intelligence. So going by the waterside, I hooped and hallowed, but I
could make nobody see. At last I heard Six Country Lads and Lasses, who
were all fast asleep playing at nine pins under a hay cock, piled up of pease
straw in the midst of the Thames, and eating of a roasted bran pudding
freezing hot," etc., etc.

THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM.
Wright, in his "Early Mysteries," 1838, published some poems, by an
anonymous writer, which he assigned to the thirteenth century, called
"Descriptus Norfolciensum," by which it would appear that these tales had
their origin in Norfolk; and the "Folcs of Gotham" are mentioned as early as
the fifteenth century in the Townley "Mysteries." But be that as it may, "The
Merie Tales" are undoubtedly the work of Andrew Borde, or Boorde, who
lived in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. He was born at Holmesdale in
Sussex, was educated at Oxford, and afterwards became a Carthusian monk.
At the persecution, temp. Henry VIII., he escaped abroad, and travelled over
many parts of Europe and some portion of Africa. He settled at Montpellier,
became a physician, and practised as such on his return to England. For
some reason, he was imprisoned in the Fleet, where he died, April, 1549.
There are two black-letter editions without dates, and there is one in the
Bodleian library, with a woodcut of the hedging in the cuckoo, "The Merry
Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham. Gathered together by A.B. of Physick
Doctor," 1630; but Ant. à Wood, in his "Ath. Oxon." (Bliss, edition), says it
was printed in the reign of Henry VIII.

Gotham is a village about six miles from Nottingham, and the name of the
"Cuckoo bush" is still given to a place near the village.

THE

M e r r y Ta l e s

OF THE

WISE MEN OF
GOTHAM.

Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard Bow Lane
London.

Tale 1.

There was two Men of Gotham, and one of them was for going to
Nottingham market to buy sheep; and the other came from the Market, and
both met on Nottingham Bridge.—Well met, said one to the other, Whither
are you going, said he that came from Nottingham; Marry, said he that was
going thither, I am going to the market to buy sheep—To buy sheep! said
the other, which way will you bring them home? Marry, said the other, I
will bring them over this bridge—By Robin Hood, said he that came from
Nottingham, but thou shalt not—By Maid Margery, said the other, but I will
—You shall not, said the one. I will, said the other.

Then they beat their staves one against the other, and then against the
ground, as if a hundred sheep had been between them. Hold then there said
the one. Beware of my sheep leaping over the bridge, said the other—I care
not said the one—They shall all come this way, said the other—But they
shall not, said the one—Then said the other, if thou make much ado, I will
put my finger in thy mouth. The Devil thou wilt said the one. And as they
were in contention, another Wise Man that belonged to Gotham, came from
the market with a sack of meal on his horse; and seeing his neighbours at
strife about sheep, and none betwixt them, said he, Ah! fools, will you never
learn wit! help me to lay this sack upon my shoulder; and they did so, and
he went to the side of the bridge, and shook out the meal into the river,
saying, How much meal is there in the sack, neighbours? Marry, said they,
none.—By my faith, replies this Wise Man, even so much wit is there in
your two heads to strive for that which you have not.

Now which was the Wisest of these three, I leave you to judge.

Tale 2.

There was a man of Gotham that rode to the market with two bushels of
wheat, and because his horse should not be damaged by carrying too great a
burden, he was determined to carry the corn himself on his own neck and
still kept riding upon the horse until the end of his journey.—Now I will
leave you to judge which is the wisest, his horse or himself.

Tale 3.

On a time the Men of Gotham fain would have pinned in the Cuckow, that
she might sing all the year; all in the midst of the town they had a hedge
made round in Compass, and got a cuckow, and put her into it, and said,
Sing here, and you shall lack neither meat nor drink all the year—The
Cuckow when she perceived herself encompassed within the hedge, flew

away. A vengeance on her, said these Wise Men, we made not the hedge
high enough.

Tale 4.

There was a Man of Gotham who went to Nottingham market to sell
Cheese, and going down the hill to Nottingham bridge one of the cheeses
fell out of his wallet, and ran down the hill. Whoreson, said the fellow, what
can you run to the market alone?—I'll now send one after another; then
laying down his wallet, taking out the cheeses, he tumbled them down the
hill, one after another; some ran into one bush, and some into another;
however he charged them to meet him in the market place—The man went
to the market to meet with the cheeses, and staid till the market was almost
over, then went and enquired of his neighbours, if they saw the cheeses
come to market? Why, who should bring them? said one—Marry
themselves, said the fellow, they knew the way very well—A vengeance on
them, they run so fast I was afraid they would run beyond the market; I
suppose by this time they are got as far as York:—so he immediately rode to
York, but was very much disappointed; and to this day no man has ever
heard of his cheeses.

Tale 5.

A Man of Gotham, bought at Nottingham market a trivet or bar iron, and
going home with it, his shoulder grew weary of the carriage; he set it down,
and seeing it had three feet, said Whoreson, thou hast three feet, and I but
two, thou shalt bear me home, if thou wilt—so set himself down on it
saying

Bare me along as I have bore thee,
For if thou dost not thou shalt stand still for me.

The Man of Gotham seeing that his trevit would not move, Stand still, said
he, in the Mayor's name, and follow me if thou wilt; and I can shew thee the
way.—When he went home, his wife asked him where the trivet was? he
told her it had three legs, and he but two, and he had taught him the ready
way to his house; and therefore he might come home himself if he would.
Where did you leave the trevit? said the woman. At Gotham bridge, said he.
So she immediately went and fetched the trevit, otherwise she must have
lost it, on account of her husband's want of wit.

Tale 6.

A certain Smith of Gotham had a large wasp's nest in the straw at the end of
his forge, and there coming one of his neighbours to have his horse shod,
and the wasps being exceeding busy, the man was stung by one of them;
and being grievously affronted, he said, Are you worthy to keep a forge or
no, to have men stung with these wasps?—O neighbour, said the smith, be
content, and I shall put them from their nest presently. Immediately he took
a Coulter, and heated it red hot and thrust it into the straw, at the end of the
forge, and set it on fire and burnt it up.—Then said the smith, I told thee I'd
fire them out of their nest.

Tale 7.

One Good Friday the Men of Gotham consulted together what to do with
their white herrings, red herrings, sprats, and salt fish, and agreed that all
such fish should be cast into the pond or pool in the middle of the town, that
the number of them might encrease against the next year. Therefore every
one that had any fish left did cast them immediately into the pond—Then
said one, I have as yet gotten left so many red herrings, Well, said another,
and I have left so many whitings—Another immediately cried out, I have as
yet gotten so many sprats left;—And, said the last, I have as yet gotten so
many salt fishes, let them go together in the great pond without distinction,

and we may be sure to fare like Lords the next year—At the beginning of
the next Lent they immediately went about drawing the pond, imagining
they should have the fish; but were much surprised to find nothing but a
great eel. Ah! said they, a mischief on this eel, for he hath eaten up our fish.
What must we do with him, said one to the other. Kill him, said one. Chop
him in pieces, said another. Nay, not so, said the other, let us drown him.—
Be it accordingly so, replied them all.—So they immediately went to
another pond, and cast the eel into the water. Lie there, said these wise men,
and shift for thyself, since you may not expect any help of us—So they left
the eel to be drowned.

Tale 8.

On a time the men of Gotham had forgotten to pay their rent to their
landlords, so one of them said to the other, To morrow must be pay day, by
whom can we send our money that is due to our landlord? upon which one
of them said, I have this day taken a hare, and he may carry it, for he is very
quick footed. Be it so, replied the rest, he shall have a letter and a purse to
put our money in, and we can direct her the right way. When the letter was
written, and the money put in a purse, they immediately tied them about the
hare's neck saying, You must go to Loughboro' and then to Leicester, and at
Newark is our landlord; then commend us unto him, and there is his due.
The hare, as soon as she got out of their hands ran quite a contrary way—
Some said, Thou must go to Loughborough—Others said, let the hare alone
for she can tell a nearer way than the best of us—let her go.

Tale 9.

A Man of Gotham that went mowing in the meads, found a large
grasshopper; he immediately threw down his scyth, and ran home to his
neighbours, and said that the devil was there in the field, and was hopping
amongst the grass. Then was every man ready with their clubs and staves,

with halberts and other weapons to kill the grasshopper. When they came
almost to the place where the grasshopper was, said one to the other, Let
every man cross himself from the Devil, for we will not meddle with him—
So they returned again and said—We were blest this day that we went no
farther—O ye cowards! said he that left his scyth in the mead, help me to
fetch my scyth. No, answered they, it is good to sleep in a whole skin; it is
much better for thee to lose thy scyth than to marr us all.

Tale 10.

On a certain time there were twelve men of Gotham, that went to fish, and
some stood on dry land. And in going home, one said to the other, We have
ventured wonderfully in wading, I pray God that none of us come home to
be drowned—Nay, Marry, said one to the other, let us see that, for there did
twelve of us come out—Then they told themselves, and every one told
eleven. Said the one to the other, There is one of us drowned. They went
back to the brook where they had been fishing and sought up and down for
him that was drowned, making great lamentation.

A Courtier coming by, asked what it was they sought for, and why they
were sorrowful? Oh! said they, this day we went to fish in the brook; twelve
of us came out together, and one is drowned—Said the Courtier, tell how
many there be of you. One of them said eleven, and he did not tell himself.
Well, said the Courtier, what will you give me and I will find the twelfth
man. Sir, said they, all the money we have got. Give me the money, said the
Courtier, and began with the first, and gave him a stroke over the shoulders
with his whip, which made him groan, saying Here is one; and so he served
them all, and they all groaned at the matter. When he came to the last, he
paid him well, saying Here is the twelfth man.—God's blessings on thy
heart, said they, for thus finding our dear brother.

Tale 11.

A Man of Gotham riding along the highway, saw a cheese, so drew his
sword and pricked it with the point in order to take it up. Another man came
by, and alighted, and picked it up, and rode away with it. The man of
Gotham rides back to Nottingham to buy a long sword to pick up the
cheese, and returning to the place where the cheese did lie, he pulled out his
sword, and pricking the ground, he said, if I had this sword at the first, I
should have gotten the cheese myself, but now another has got it from me.

Tale 12.

A Man of Gotham who did not love his wife, she having fair hair, her
husband said divers times, He would cut it off, but durst not do it when she
was awake; so resolved to do it when she was asleep: therefore one night he
took up a pair of sheers and put them under his pillow, which his wife
perceiving, said to one of her maids, Go to bed to my husband, for he thinks
to cut off my hair to-night; let him cut off thy hair, and I will give thee as
good a kirtle as ever thou didst see. The maid did so, and feigned herself
asleep; which the man perceiving, cut off the maids hair and wrapped it
about the sheers, and laid them under his pillow and went to sleep; then the
maid arose and the wife took the hair and sheers and went into the hall, and
there burnt the hair. The man had a fine horse that he loved much; and the
good wife went into the stable, cut off the tail of the horse, wrapping the
sheers up in it, and then laid them under the pillow again. Her husband
seeing her combing her head in the morning, he marvelled very much
thereat—The girl seeing her master in a deep study, said, What the Devil
ails the horse in the stable, he bleeds so prodigiously? The man ran into the
stable, and found the horse's tail was cut off; then going to his bed, he found
the sheers wrapped up in his horse's tail. He then went to his wife, saying, I
cry thee mercy, for I intended to have cut off my horses tail. Yea, said she,
self do, self have—Many men think to do a bad turn but it turneth oftimes
to himself.

Tale 13 is rather too broad in its humour to be
reproduced.

Tale 14.

A Man of Gotham took a young buzzard, and invited four or five
gentlemen's servants to the eating of it; but the old wife killed an old goose
and she and two of her gossips eat up the buzzard, and the old goose was
laid to the fire for the gentlemen's servants. So when they came and the
goose was set before them, What is this? said one of them. A fine buzzard,
said the man. A buzzard! said they, why it is an old goose, and thou art a
knave to mock us; and in anger departed home.

The fellow was very sorry that he had affronted them, and took a bag, and
put in the buzzard's feathers; but his wife desired him before he went to
fetch her a block of wood, and in the intrim, she pulled out the buzzard's
feathers, and put in the gooses. Then the man taking the bag went to the
gentlemen's servants, and said, Pray be not angry with me; you shall see I
had a buzzard, for here be the feathers. Then he opened the bag and shook
out the goose's feathers. They said, Why thou knave, could you not be
content to mock us at home but art come here to mock us? The one took a
cudgel and gave him a dozen stripes, saying, Heretofore mock us no more.

Tale 15 is too silly, and not worth reproducing.

Tale 16.

A young man of Gotham went a wooing to a fair maid; his mother warned
him before hand, saying, whenever you look at her, cast a sheep's eye at her
and say, How dost thou do, my sweet pigsnie!* The fellow went to the
butchers shop and bought seven or eight sheeps eyes; and then when this
lusty wooer was at dinner, he would look upon his fair wench, and cast in
her face a sheep's eye, saying how do you do, my sweet pigsnie?—How do
you do, swine's face? said the wench; what do you mean by casting a
sheep's eye at me?—O sweet pigsnie, have at thee another.—But I defy
thee, swine's flesh, said the wench.—What, my sweet old pigsnie be
content, for if you live till next year, you will be a foul sow.—Walk knave,
walk, said she, for if you live till next year, you will be a fool.

* A term of endearment, generally used towards a young girl:
"And here you may see I have
Even such another,
Squeaking, gibbering, of everie degree.
The player fooles dear darling pigsnie
He calls himselfe his brother,
Come of the verie same familie."
Tarlton's Horse Loade of Fooles.

Chaucer, in "The Milleres Tale," says—

"Hire shoon were laced on her legges hie;
She was a primerole (primrose), a piggesnie."

Tale 17.

There was a man of Gotham who would be married, and when the day of
marriage was come, they went to church. The priest said, Do you say after
me. The priest said say not after me such words but say what I shall tell you
—Thou dost play the fool to mock with the Holy Bible concerning
Matrimony. Then the fellow said, Thou dost play the fool to mock with the

Holy Bible concerning Matrimony. The priest could not tell what to say, but
answered, what shall I do with this fool? And the man said, What shall I do
with this fool.—So the priest departed, and would not marry him—But he
was instructed by others how to do and was afterwards married—And thus
the breed of Gothamites has been perpetuated even unto this day.

Tale 18.

There was a Scotchman who dwelt at Gotham, and he took a house, a little
distance from London, and turned it into an inn, and for a sign he would
have a Boars head; accordingly he went to a Carver, and said, Make me a
Bare heed. Yes, said the Carver. Then says he, Make me a bare heed and
thous have twenty pence for thy hire. I will do it, said the Carver.—So on
St. Andrew's day, before Christmas the which is called Youl in Scotland, the
Scot came to London for his Boar's head to set up at his door. I say, to
speak, said the Scotchman, hast thou made me a bare's heed. Yes, said the
Carver. Aye then thous a good fellow. He went and brought a man's head
that was bare, and said here is your bare head! Aye, said the Scot, the
mickle devil! is this a bare heed? Yes, said the carver. I say, said the
Scotchman, I will have a bare heed, like a heed that follows the sow that has
gryces. Sir, said the Carver, I don't know a sow and gryces. What!
whoreson, know you not a sow that will greet and groan, and her gryces
will run after and cry Aweek, aweek. O, said the Carver it is a pig—Yes said
the Scotchman, let me have her heed made in timber, and set on her scalp,
and let her sing, whip, whire. The Carver said he could not.—You
whoreson, said he, gang as she'd sing Whip, whire.—This shews that all
men delight in their fancy.

Tale 19.

In old times, during these tales, the wives of Gotham got into an alehouse,
and said, They were all profitable to their husbands; which way, good

gossips? said the alewife.—The first said, I tell you all, good gossips, I can
brew or bake, so I am every day alike; and if I go to the alehouse, I pray to
God to speed my husband, and I am sure my prayers will do him more good
than my labour. Then said the second, I am profitable to my husband in
saving candle in the winter; for I cause my husband and all my people to go
to bed by daylight, and rise by the same.—The third said, I am profitable in
sparing bread, for I drink a gallon of ale, care not how much meat and drink
at home, so I go to the tavern at Nottingham and drink wine and such other
things, as God sends me.—The fourth said, A man will for ever have more
company in another's house than his own, and most commonly in an
alehouse. The fifth said, My husband has flax and wool to spare, if I go to
other folks houses to do their work.—The sixth said, I spare both my
husbands wood and coals, and talk all the day at other folks fire. The
seventh said, beef, mutton and pork are dear, wherefore I take pigs, hens,
chickens, conies which be of a lower price.—The eighth said I spair my
husband's lie and soap, for whereas I should wash once a week, I wash but
once a quarter; then said the alewife, and I keep all my husband's ale that I
brew from sowering, for, as I used to drink it most up, now I never leave a
drop.

Tale 20.

One Ash Wednesday the Minister of Gotham would have a Collection of his
parishioners, and said unto them, My friends the time is come that you must
use prayer, fasting and alms; but come ye to shrift, I will tell you more of
my mind; but as for prayer, I don't think that two men in the parish can say
half the Pater Noster. As for fasting, ye fast still, for ye have not a meal's
victuals in a year. As for alms deed, what should they do to give that have
nothing to take? But as one came to shrift and confessed himself to have
been drunk divers times in the year, but especially in Lent: the priest said In
Lent you should most refrain from drunkenness and refrain from drink—
No, not so, said the fellow, for it is an old proverb that fish would swim.
Yes, said the priest—it must swim in the water; I say you mercy, quoth the
fellow, I thought it should have swum in fine ale, for I have been so.—Soon
after the man of Gotham came to shrift, and even the priest knew not what

penance to give; he said, If I enjoin prayer, you cannot say your Pater
Noster. And it is but a folly to make you fast, because you never eat a meals
meat. Labour hard and get a dinner on Sunday, and I will come and partake
of it—Another man he enjoined to fare well on Monday, and another on
Tuesday, and one after another, that one or the other would fare well once in
a week, that he might have part of their meat. And as for alms deeds the
priest said, ye be beggars all except one or two so therefore bestow your
alms among yourselves.

FINIS.

JOE MILLER'S

JESTS

BEING

A COLLECTION

OF

The most Brilliant JESTS and most pleasant
short Stories in the English Language—

The greater Part of which are taken from the Mouth of that
facetious Gentleman whose Name they bear.

Printed and Sold in London

JOE MILLER
Was a comedian, born 1684, died August 15, 1738; but, although he might
have originated the jests, he did not collect them, which was done by John
Mottley, a dramatist, in 1739. Miller was buried in St. Clement's burial-
ground, in Portugal Street, Clare Market—now destroyed—and his
tombstone was to be seen in 1852. Part of his epitaph was—
"HERE LYE THE REMAINS OF
HONEST JO. MILLER
WHO WAS
A TENDER HUSBAND
A SINCERE FRIEND
A FACETIOUS COMPANION
AND AN EXCELLENT COMEDIAN," etc.

Hogarth is said to have engraved a ticket for his benefit on April 25, 1717,
when he played Sir Joseph Wittol in Congreve's "Old Batchelor."

All jokes marked with an asterisk are in the first edition, but the book has
been somewhat expurgated.

"Joe Miller going with a friend one day along Fleet Street, and seeing old
Cross the Player, who was very deaf, and unwilling that any one should
know it, on the other side of the way, told his friend he should see some
Sport; so beckoning Cross with his finger, and stretching open his mouth as
wide as ever he could, as if he halloed to him, though he said nothing; the
old fellow came puffing from the other side of the way. What a pox do you
make such a noise for, do you think one can't hear?

* "Joe Miller another day sitting in the window at the Sun tavern in Clare
Street, while a fish woman was passing by, crying, Buy my soul—buy my

maids! Ah! you wicked creature, said Joe, are you not content to sell your
own soul, but you must sell your maid's also.

"A person of quality coming into a church where several of his ancestors
lay buried, after he had praised them very much for worthy men, Well, said
he, I am resolved, if I live, to be buried as near them as possible.

"One man told another who used not to be clothed very often, that his new
coat was too long for him; That's true answered the other, but it will be
longer before I get another.

* "A poor man who had a termagant wife, after a very long dispute, in
which she was resolved to have the last word, told her, if she spoke another
crooked word more he would beat her brains out: Why then, Ram's Horns,
you dog, said she if I die for it.

"A certain Country Squire asked a Merry Andrew why he played the fool?
For the same reason, said he, as you do, for want; you do it for want of wit,
I for want of money.

* "A Welshman bragging of his family, said, that his father's effigy was set
up in Westminster Abbey; being asked whereabouts, he said, In the same
monument with Squire Thynne, for he was his coachman.

"A very harmless Irishman was eating an apple pie with some quinces in it.
Arrah now, dear honey, said he, if so few of these quinces give such a
flavour, how would an apple pye taste made all of quinces.

* "An Irish lawyer of the Temple having occasion to go to dinner, left this
direction in the keyhole; Gone to the Elephant and Castle, where you will
find me, and if you cannot read this, carry it to the stationer's and he will
read it for you.

* "Two Oxford Scholars meeting on the road with a Yorkshire ostler, they
fell to bantering him; and told him, That they would prove him to be an
horse or an ass, Well, said the ostler, I can prove your saddle to be a mule. A
mule, said one of them, how can that be? Because said the Ostler, it is
something between a horse and an ass.

* "The Chaplain's boy of a man of war, being sent out of his own ship on an
errand to another, the boys were conferring notes about their manner of
living. How often do you go to prayers now? Why, answered the other, in
case of a storm or the apprehension of any danger from an enemy. Aye, said
the first, there is some sense in that; but my master makes us go to prayers
when there is no more occasion for it, than for my leaping overboard.

* "King Henry VIII. designing to send a nobleman on an embassy to
Francis I. at a very dangerous juncture, he begged to be excused, saying,
Such a threatening message to so hot a prince as Francis I. might go near to
cost him his head. Fear not said old Harry: if the French King should offer
to take away your life, I will revenge it by taking off the heads of the
Frenchmen now in my power.—But of all these heads, replied the
Nobleman, not one would fit my shoulders.

* "A prince laughing at one of his nobles whom he had employed in several
embassies, told him he looked like an owl. I know not, said the Courtier,
what I look like; but this I know, that I have had the honour several times to
represent your Majesty's person.

* "A Mayor of Yarmouth, in antient times, being by his office a justice of
the peace, and one who was willing to dispense the laws in the wisest
manner, though he could hardly read, got himself a statute book, where
finding a law against firing a beacon, or causing one to be fired, read it,
Frying bacon or causing it to be fried; and according went out the next night
upon the scent, and being directed by his nose to the Carriers house he
found the man and his wife both frying bacon, the husband holding the pan,
while the wife turned it. Being thus caught in the fact and having nothing to
say for themselves his worship committed them both to prison without bail
or mainprize.

* "A gentleman who had been a shooting brought home a small bird with
him, and having an Irish servant, he asked him if he had shot that little bird?
Yes, he told him. Arrah, by my shoul, honey, replied the Irishman, it was
not worth the powder and shot, for this little thing would have died in the
fall.

* "The same Irishman being at a tavern, where the Cook was dressing some
Carp, he observed some of the fish moved, after they were gutted and put in
the pan, which much surprised honest Teague.—Well, now by my faith, said
he, of all the Christian creatures that ever I saw, this same carp will live the
longest after it is dead.

* "A young fellow riding down a steep hill, doubting if the foot of it was
boggish, called out to a clown that was ditching, and asked if it was hard at
the bottom? Aye, answered the countryman, it is hard enough at the bottom,
I will warrant you. But in half a dozen steps the horse sunk up to the saddle
girts, which made the young gallant whip, spur, curse, and swear; Why you
whoreson of a rascal, said he to the ditcher, didst thou not tell me that it was
hard at the bottom? Aye, said the ditcher, but you are not halfway to the
bottom yet.

* "An Englishman and a Welshman disputing in whose Country was the
best living; said the Welshman, there is such noble housekeeping in Wales,
that I have known above a dozen cooks to be employed at one wedding
dinner. Aye, replied the Englishman, that was because every man toasted his
own cheese.

* "One losing a bag of money of about Fifty pounds, between the Temple
Gate and Temple Bar, fixed up a paper, offering a reward to those who took
it and should return it. Upon which, the person that had it came and wrote
underneath it to the following effect: Sir, I thank you for the offered reward,
but indeed you really bid me to my loss.

* "A very humourous countryman having bought a barn in partnership with
a neighbour of his, neglected to make the least use of it, while the other had
plentifully stored his part with corn and hay. In a little time the latter came
to him, and conscientiously expostulated with him about laying out his
money to so little purpose. Why, neighbour, said he, pray never trouble your
head, you may do what you will with your part of the barn, but I will set
mine on fire.

* "The famous Tom Thynne, who was remarkable for his good
housekeeping and hospitality, standing one day at his gate in the Country, a
beggar came up to him and craved a mug of his small beer. Why, how now,

said he, what times are these, when beggars must be choosers! I say, bring
this fellow a mug of strong beer.

* "A profligate young Nobleman being in company with some sober people,
desired leave to toast the Devil. The gentleman who sat next to him, said he
had no objection to any of his Lordship's particular friends.

* "A certain Lady of quality, sending her Irish footman to fetch home a pair
of new stays, strictly charged him to take a coach if it rained, for fear of
wetting them. But a great shower falling, the fellow returned with the stays
dripping wet; and being severely reprimanded for not doing as he was
ordered, he said he had obeyed his orders. How then, answered the lady,
could the stays be wet if you took them into the coach with you? No replied
honest Teague, I know my place better, I did not get into the Coach, but
rode behind, as I always used to do.

"Two honest gentlemen, who dealt in brooms, meeting one day in the street,
one asked the other, how the devil he could afford to undersell him as he
did, when he stole the stuff, and made the brooms himself? Why, you silly
dog, replied the other, I steal them ready made.

"A cowardly servant having been out a hunting with his master, they killed
a wild boar. The fellow thinking the boar stirred, betook himself to a tree;
upon which his master called to him, and asked him, what he was afraid of,
as the boar's guts were out? No matter for that, said he, his teeth are in.

"One Irishman meeting another, asked, what was become of their old
acquaintance Patrick Murphy? Arrah! now, dear honey, answered the other,
he was condemned to die, but he saved his life by dying in prison.

"One asked his friend, why he, being such a proper man himself, had
married so small a wife? Why, friend, said he, I thought you had known that
of evils we should chuse the least.

"Two gentlemen, one named Chambers and the other Garret, riding to
Tyburn, said the first, This would be a pretty tenement, if it had a garret.
You fool, says Garret, don't you know there must be Chambers first.

"Two Irishmen having travelled on foot from Chester to Barnet, were much
tired and fatigued with their journey, and the more so when they were told
that they had still ten miles to London. By my shoul and St. Patrick, cries
one of them, it is but five miles apiece, let's e'en walk on.

* "A country clergyman meeting a neighbour who never came to church
although an old fellow about sixty, he gave him some reproof on that
account and asked him if he never read at home? No, replied the clown, I
cannot read. I dare say, said the parson, You don't know who made you?
Not I, in troth, said the countryman. A little boy coming by at the time—
Who made you, child? said the parson. God, sir, said the boy. Why, look
you there quoth the clergyman, are you not ashamed to hear a child five or
six years old tell me who made him, when you, who are so old a man,
cannot? Ah! said the countryman it is no wonder that he should remember;
he was made but the other day, and it is a long while, measter, since I was
made."

A

WHETSTONE

FOR

DULL WITS

OR A

Poesy

OF NEW AND INGENIOUS

RIDDLES

Of Merry Books this is the Chief,

'Tis as a purging Pill;
To carry off all heavy Grief
And make you laugh your Fill

Printed & Sold in London

. Into this world I came hanging,
And when from the same I was ganging,
I was cruelly batter'd and Squeez'd,
And men with my blood, they were pleas'd.

Answer. It is a Pipping pounded into Cyder.

A Wide Mouth, no ears nor eyes,
No scorching flames I feel—
Swallow more than may suffice
Full forty at a meal.

A. It is an Oven.

Tho' of great age
I'm kept in a Cage
Having a long tail and one ear,
My mouth it is round
And when Joys do abound
O' then I sing wonderful clear.

A. It is a Bell in a Steeple; the Rope betokens a Tail, & the
Wheel an ear.

The greatest travellers that e'er were known
By Sea and land were mighty archers twain;
No armor proof, or fenced walls of stone,
Could turn their arrows; bulwarks were in vain.
Thro' princes courts, and kingdoms far and near,
As well in foreign parts as Christendom,
These travellers their weary steps then steer,
But to the deserts seldom come.

A. 'Tis Death and Cupid, whose arrows pierce thro' the walls
of Brass or strong Armour in all Courts and Kingdoms in the
habitable World.

Two Calves and an Ape
They made their escape

From one that was worse than a spright;
They travell'd together
In all sorts of weather
But often were put in a fright.

A. 'Tis a Man flying from his scolding wife; the two Calves
and an Ape, signify the calves of the legs and the Nape of his
neck, which by travelling was expos'd to the weather.

A thing with a thundering breech
It weighing a thousand welly,
I have heard it roar
Louder than Guys wild boar,
They say it hath death in its belly.

A. It is a Cannon.

It flies without wings,
Between silken strings
And leaves as you'll find
It's guts still behind.

A. It is a Weaver's Shuttle.

Close in a cage a bird I'll keep,
That sings both day and night,
When other birds are fast asleep
It's notes yield sweet delight.

A. It is a Clock.

To the green wood
Full oft it hath gang'd,
Yet yields us no good
Till decently hang'd.