THE HISTORY OF >s THOMAS OF READING; OR THE &} \$> '/> SIX WORTHY YEOMEN 4 OF THE WEST. BY THOMAS DELONEY. LONDON : WILLIAM PICKERING, CHANCERY LANE. MDCCCXXVII. • • > : * • • > . ^ ~j THOMAS OF READING. " Thomas of Reading, or the Sixe Worthie Yeomen of the West," is the production of Thomas Deloney, the compiler of the " Garland of Good-will," a poetical collection of local tales and historical ditties ; and a famous ballad maker in his day, in which latter character he appears to have drawn upon him- self the indignation of Kemp, one of the original actors of Shakspeare, in his " Nine Dales Wonder." Kemp's miraculous morris-dance, performed in nine days from London to Norwich, had been misrepre- sented in the popular ballads, and he thus remon- strates against our author. " I have made a priuie ,5 " search ; what priu ate jig-monger of your jolly num- ^ " ber had been the author of these abhominable " ballets written of me. I was told it was the great " ballade-maker, T. D. or Thomas Deloney, chro- '' nicler of the memorable Lives of the Six Yeomen V If O" • u 11 PREFACE. " of the West,' * Jack of Newberry,' ' the Gentle " Craft,' and such like honest men, omitted by " Stowe, Hollinshed, Grafton, Hall, Froysart, and " the rest of those well-deserving writers." Accordingly we find " Thomas of Reading" to be a mixture of historical fact and fictitious narra- tion, which may be compared to the historical novel of modern times ; for Coates, in his History of Read- ing, acknowledges the existence of our hero, even while he speaks slightingly of Deloney's history. " The trade of Reading, with respect to manufac- " tories, is no longer considerable. Thomas Cole, in " the time of Edward I. (query Henry I.) was called " the Rich Clothier of Reading. Though his name " and reputation occasioned a fabulous and childish " penny history, called the ' History of Thomas of " Reading ;' yet we may learn from the circum- " stance, that Reading was even then famous for its " trade of clothing." Thomas of Reading contains many curious allu- sions to manners and customs now obsolete ; and, PREFACE. HI though grounds of origin for several circumstances are stated which are not strictly borne out by histo- rical research, much curious information may be cleaned from it. It would be tedious to illustrate every point to which our attention might be drawn ; but the allusion to the Qibbet Law of Halifax, which was in full force at the time our author wrote, seems to justify some notice. This custom is supposed to have originated when the manor of Wakefield (of which Halifax was part) was bestowed on Earj Warren ; for in the reign of King Edward I. at the pleas of assizes and jurats at the borough of Scar borough, John Earl of Warren and Surry, answering to a writ of quo warranto, said, That he claimed Gallows at Coningsburgh and Wakefield, and the power of doing what belonged to a gallows in all his lands and fees, and that he and all his ancestors had used the same from time immemorial, &c. The law or custom as regards Halifax appears to have been to the effect that, 1st. The thief was to be taken within the liberty, IV PREFACE. and if he escaped out of the liberty he could not be brought back to be executed ; but if ever he returned again, and was taken, he was sure to suffer, as was the case with one Lacy, who after his escape lived seven years out of the Liberty, but venturing back was beheaded on his former verdict in the year 1623. This man was not so wise as one Dinnis, who having been condemned to die, escaped out of the Liberty on the day intended for his execution (which might be done by running about five hundred yards,) and never returned thither again; meeting several people, they asked him " if Dinnis was not to be beheaded that day?" his answer was, " I trow not," which having some humour in it, became a proverbial saying amongst the inhabitants, who to this day use the expression " I trow not, quoth Dinnis." 2d. The fact was to be proved in the clearest manner, the offender was to be taken either hand- habend or backberand, having the stolen goods either in his hand, or bearing them on his back ; or lastly, confessand, confessing that he took them. PREFACE. V 3d. The value of the goods stolen must amount to thirteen pence halfpenny, or more. 4th. The accused was to be executed on the first Saturday after his condemnation, and 5th. When brought to the gibbet he was to have his head cut off from his body, &c. Forty-nine persons appear to have been executed since a list was kept, of which five were in the six last years of Henry VIII. ; twenty-five in the reign of Elizabeth : seven in that of James I. ; ten in that of Charles I. and two during the interregnum. The proceedings at the trials of the last malefac- tors, viz. Abraham Wilkinson and Andrew Mitchel, who suffered at Halifax gibbet on the 30th of April, 1650, are preserved in an account of Halifax, pub- lished by William Bentley, London, 1708; and in the Rev. Mr. Watson's History of Halifax, from which this account is taken, and where much curious matter is to be found, illustrative not only of the gibbet law of Halifax, but of the first gibbets or guillotines used in this country. VI PREFACE. Thomas of Reading was printed previous to the year 1600, when it was alluded to by Kemp, but the precise date of the first Edition does not appear. The Marquis of Stafford possesses a copy in 4to. 1623, and in the Roxburgh sale " The pleasant History of Thomas of Reading" 4to. 1636, produced £5. 15s. 6d. The following entry in the Henslowe MSS. shews that it was made the subject of a dramatic per- formance : 12 Nov. 1601. The six Clothiers of the West, by Richard Hathway, Wentworth Smith and Wm. Haughton. The second part of The Six Clothiers by the same. THOMAS OF READING: OB, THE SIXE WORTHIE YEOMEN OF THE WEST. NOW THE SIXTH TIME CORRECTED AND ENLARGED By T D. Thov shalt labovr till thov retvrne to dvste. LONDON, PRINTED BY ELIZ- ALLDE FOR ROBERT BIRD 1632. THE PLEASANT HISTORIE OF THE SIXE WORTHY YEOMEN OF THE WEST. In the dayes of King Henry the first, who was the first king that instituted the high Court of Parliament; there liued nine men, which for the trade of Clothing, were famous throughout all England. Which Art in those dayes was held in high reputation, both in respect of the great riches that thereby was gotten, as also of the benefit it brought to the whole Common-wealth : the yonger sons of knights and Gentlemen, to whom their Fathers would leaue no lands, were most commonly preferred to learne this trade, to the end, that thereby they might liue in good estate, and driue forth their dayes in prosperity. Among all Crafts this was the onely chiefe, for that it was the greatest merchandize, by the which our Coun- try became famous thorowout all Nations. And it was verily thought, that the one halfe of the people in the land liued in those dayes therby, and in such good sort, 4 THE PLEASANT IIISTORIE that in the Common-wealth there were few or no beggers at all: poore people, whom God lightly blessed with most children, did by meanes of this occupation so order them, that by the time that they were come to be sixe or senen yeeres of age, they were able to get their owne bread : Idlenesse was then banished onr coast, so that it was a rare thing to heare of a thiefe in those dayes. Therefore it was not without cause that Clothiers were then both honoured and loued, among whom these nine persons in this kings dayes were of great credit, viz. Tho. Cole of Reading, Gray of Glocester, Sutton of Salisburie, Fitzallen of Worcester, (commonly called William of Worcester) Tom Doue of Excester, and Simon of South-hampton, alias Supbroth: who were by the King called, The sixe worthy Husbands of the West. Then were there three liuing in the North, that is to say, Cutbert of Kendall, Hodgekins of Hallifax, and Martin Byram of Manchester. Euery one of these kept a great number of seruants at worke, spinners, carders, weauers, fullers, dyers, sheerement, and rowers, to the great admiration of all those that came into their houses to behold them. Now you shall vnderstand, these gallant Clothiers, by reason of their dwelling places, separated themselues in three seueral'l companies : Gray of Glocester, William of Worcester, and Thomas of Reading, because their iourney to London was all one way, they conuersed com- monly together: And Doue of Excester, Sutton of Salis- burie, and Simon of South-hampton, they in like sort kept OF THOMAS OF READING. company the one with the other, meeting euer all toge- ther at Bazingstoke: and the three Norttaerne Clothiers did the like, who commonly did not meet till they came to Bosomes Inne in London. Moreover, for the loue and delight that theseWesterne men had each in others companie, they did so prouide, that their Waines and themselues would euer meet upon one day in London at Iarrats Hall, surnamed the Gyant, for that hee surpassed all other men of that age, both in stature and strength : whose merriments and memor- able deeds I will setdowne vnto you in this following dis- course. How King Henry sought the fauour of all his subiects especially of the Clothiers. Chap. 1 . This King Henry, who for his great learning and wis- dome was called Beauclerke, beeing the third Son to the renowned Conquerour: after the death of his brother W illiam Ruffus, tooke vpon him the gouernment of this Land, in the absence of his second brother Robert Duke of Normandie, who at this time was at wars amongst the Infidels, and was chosen King of Jerusalem, the which he, for the loue he hare to his owne country, refused, and witli great honour returned from the holy Land ; of whose co timing when King Henry vnderstood, knowing hee would make claime to the Crowne, sought by nil meanes possible to winne the good will of his Nobility, and to get the fauor of the Commons by courtesie : for the obtaining whereof hee did them many fauours, THE PLEASANT HISTORIE thereby the better to strengthen himselfe against his brother. It chanced on a time, as he, with one of his sonnes, and diuers of his Nobilitie, rode from London towards Wales, to appease the fury of the Welshmen, which then began to raise themselues in amies against his authority, that he met with a great number of Waines loaden with cloth, comming to London, and seeing them still driue one after another so many together, de- manded whose they were : the Waine-men answered in this sort : Coles of Reading (quoth they.) Then by and by the King asked another saying : Whose cloth is all this ? Old Coles, quoth bee : and againe anon after he asked the same questions to others, and still they an- swered, Old Coles. And it is to be remembred, that the king met them in such a place so narrow and streight, that hee with tbe rest of his traine, were faine to stand as close to the hedge, whilest tbe carts passed by, the which at that time being in number aboue two hundred, was neere hand an hour ere the King could get roome to be gone : so that by his long stay, he began to be displeased, although the admiration of that sight did much qualifie his furie ; but breaking out in discon- tent, by reason of his stay, he said, I thought Old Cole had got a Commission for all the carts in the Country to cary his cloth. And how if he haue (quoth one of the Wainmen) doth that grieue you good sir ? Yes, good sir, said our King, what say you to that ? The fellow seeing the King (in asking that question) to bend his OF THOMAS OF READING. 7 browes, though he knew not what he was, yet being abasht, he answered thus : Why sir, if you be angry, no body can hinder you ; for possible sir, you haue anger at commandement. The king seeing him in vttering of his words to quiuer and quake, laughed heartily at him, as well in respect of his simple answere, as at his feare : and so soone after the last Wain went by, which gaue present passage vnto him and his Nobles : and thereupon entring into communication of the com- moditie of cloathing, the king gaue order at his home returne, to have Old Cole brought before his Maiestie, to the intent he might haue conference with him, noting him to be a subiect of great abilitie : but by that time he came within a mile of Staines, he met another com- pany of waines in like sort laden with cloth, whereby the king was driven into a further admiration . and de- manding whose they were, answere was made in this sort : They be good-man Suttons of Salisbury, good sir ; and by that time a score of them were past, he asked againe, saying ; whose are these ; Suttons of Salisbury, qd. they, and so still, as often as the king- asked that question, they answered, Suttons of Salis- burie. God send me many such Suttons, said the king. And thus the farther he trauelled Westward, more Waines and more he met continually : vpon which occa- sion he said to his Nobles, That it would neuer grieue a king to die for the defence of a fertile Countrie and faith- ful subiects. 1 alwayes thought (quoth he) that Englands valor was more than her wealth, yet now 1 see her wealth 8 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE sufficient to maintaine her valour, which I will seeke to dierish in all I may, and with my sword keepe my selfe in possession of that I haue, Kings and Louers can hrooke no partners : and therefore let my Brother Robert thinke, that although hee was Heir to England by birth, yet I am King by possession. All his fauourers I must account my foes, and will serue them as I did the vn- gratefull Earle of Shrewsbury, whose lands I haue seized, and banisht his body. But now we will leaue the king to his iourney into Wales, and waiting his home returne, in the meane time tell you the meeting of these iolly Clothiers at London. How William of Worcester, Gray of Gloucester, and old Cole of Reading, met altogether at Reading, and of their communication by the way as they rode to London. Chap. 2. When Gray of Glocester, and William of Worcester were come to Reading, according to their custome, they alwayes called old Cole to haue his compauie to London, who also duely attended their commiug, hauing pro- uided a good breakefast for them : and when they had well refreshed themselues, they tooke their horses and rode on towards the Citie : and in their iourney Wil- liam of Worcester asked them if they had not heard of the Earle of Moraigne his escape out of the Land ? What is he fled qd. Gray ? I muse much at this matter, being in such great regard with the King as he was : but I pray you, doe you not know the cause of his going, OF THOMAS OF READING. 9 qd. Cole ? The common report, quoth Gray, is this, that the couetous Earle, who through a greedy desire, neuer left begging of the King for one thing or other, and his request being now denied him, of meere obsti- nacy and wilfull frowardnesse, hath banished himselfe out of the Land, and quite forsaken the Country of Cornwall, hauing made a vow neuer to set foote within England againe, and as report goeth, he with the late banisht Earl of Shrewsbury, haue ioyned themselues with Robert Duke of Normandy, against the King, the which actions of theirs hath inflamed the Kings wrath, that their Ladies with their children are quite turned out of doores succourlesse and friendlesse, so that it is told me, they wander vp and downe the Country like forlorne people, and although many doe pitie them, yet few doe releeue them. A lamentable hearing, qd. William of Worcester, and with that casting their eyes aside, they espye.d Tom Doue with the rest of his companions come riding to meete them, who as soone as they were come thither, fell into such pleasant discourses, as did shorten the long way they had to Colebroke, where alwayes at their coinming towards London they dined: and being once entred into their Inne, according to olde custome, good cheere was prouided for them : for these Clothiers were the chiefest guests that trauailed along the way : and this was as sure as an act of Parliament, that Tom Doue could not digest his meat without musicke, nor drinke wine without women, so that his hostesse being a merry wench, would ]0 THE l'LEASANT HIST0RJE oftentimes call in two or three of her neighbours wiues to keepe him company, where, ere they parted, they were made as pleasant as Pies. And this being a cou- tinuall custome amongst them when they came thither, at length the wo mens husbands beganne to take excep- tions at their wiues going thither : whereupon great controuersie grew betweene them, in such sort, that when they were most restrained, then they had most desire to worke their wills : now gip (quoth they) must we be so tyed to our taske, that wee may not drinke with our friends ? fie, fie, vpon these yellow hose ; will no other die serue your turne ? haue wee thus long bin your wiues, and doe you now mistrust vs ? verily you eate too much salt, and that makes you grow cholericke, badde liuers iudge all others the like, but in faith you shall not bridle vs so like asses, but wee will goe to our friends, when we are sent for, and doe you what you can. Well, quoth their husbands, if you be so head-strong, we will tame you : it is the duty of honest women to obey their husbands sayings. And of honest men (quoth they) to thinke well of their wiues ; but who doe sooner empeach their credit, then their husbands, charging them, if they doe but smile, that they are subtill ; and if they doe but winke, they account them wily : if sad of countenance, then sullen : if they be froward, then they are counted shrevves : and sheepish if they bee gentle : if a woman keepe her house, then you will say shee is melancholy, if shee walke abroade, then you call her a gadder ; a Puritane, if she be precise; and a wanton, if shee be OF THOMAS OF READING. 11 pleasant : so there is no woman in the world that knowes how to please you : that we thinke our selues accurst to be married wiues, liuing with so many woes. These men, of whose company you forewarne vs, are (for ought that euer we saw) both honest and courteous, and in wealth farre beyond your selues : then what reason is there, why we should restraine to visit them? is their good will so much to be requited with scorne, that their cost may not be counteruailed with our company ? if a woman be disposed to play light of loue, alas, alas doe you thinke that you can preuent her ? Nay, wee will abide by it, that the restraint of liberty inforceth women to be lewd : for where a woman cannot be trusted, she cannot thinke her selfe beloued, and if not beloued, what cause hath she to care for such a one? therefore husbands, reforme your opinions, and doe not worke your owne woes, with our discredit. The Clothiers, we tell you, are iolly fellowes, and but in respect to our courtesie, they would scorne our company. The men hearing their wiues so well to plead for themselues, knew not how to answere, but said, they would put the burden on their consciences, if they deale vniustly with them, and so left them to their owne wills. The women bailing thus conquered their husbands con- ceits, would not leaue the fauour of their friends for frownes, and as aboue the rest Tom Doue was the most pleasantest, so was he had in most reputation with the ^ women, who for his sake made this Song : Welcome to Towne, Tom Doue, Tom Doue, The merriest man aliue, 3~ THE PLEASANT HJSTOUlE Thy company still we loue, we loue, God grant thee well to thriue, And neuer will (we) depart from thee, For better or worse, my ioy, For thou shalt still haue our good will, Gods blessing on my sweet Boy. This song went vp and downe through the whole Country, and at length became a dance among the com- mon sort, so that Tom Doue, for his mirth and good fellowship, was famous in euery place. Now when they came to London, they were welcome to the Oast Iarrat the Gyant, and as soone as they were alighted, they were saluted by the Merchants, who waited their com- ming thither, and alwayes prepared for them a costly supper, where they commonly made their bargaine, and vpon euery bargaine made, they still vsed to send some tokens to the Clothiers wiues. The next morning they went to the hall, where they met the Northerne Clothiers, who greeted one another in this sort. What, my Masters of the West, well met: what cheere? what cheere? Euen the best cheere our Merchants could make vs : (quoth Gray.) Then you could not chuse but fare well, quoth Hodge- kins: and you be weary of our company, adieu, quoth Sutton : Not so, said Martin, but shall wee not haue a game eie wee goe '. Yes faith for an hundred pounds. Well said, old Cole, said they : and with that Cole and Gray went to the Dice with Martin and Hodgekins, and the Dice running on Hodgekins side, Coles money began to waste. Now by the masse, quoth Cole, my money shrinkes as bad as Northerne cloth. When they OF THOMAS OF READING. 13 had played long, Gray stept to it, and recouereil againe the money that Cole had lost. But while they were thus playing, the rest being delighted in contrary matters euery man satisfied his owne humour. Tom Doue called for musicke, William of Worcester for wine, Sutton set his delight in hearing merry tales, Simon of South-hampton got him into the kitchin, and to the pottage pot he goes, for he esteemed more a messe of pottage, then of a venizon pasty. Now sir, Cutbert of Kendall was of another mind, for no meate pleased him so well as mutton, such as was laced in a red petti- coate. And you shall vnderstand, that alwayes when they went to dice, they got into Bosomes Inne ; which was so called of his name that kept it, who being a foule slouen, went alwayes with his nose in his bosome, and one hand in his pocket, the other on his staffe, figuring forth a description of cold Winter, for he alwayes wore two coates, two caps, two or three paire of stockings, and a high paire of shooes, ouer the which he drew on a great paire of lined slippers, and yet would oft com- plaine of cold wherefore of all men generally he was called Old Bosome, and his house Bosomes Inne. This lump of cold ice had lately married a young wife, who was as wily as she was wanton, and in her com- pany did Cutbert onely delight, and the better to make passage to his loue, he would often thus commune with her : I muse, good wife, quoth he. Good wife, quoth she : Verily sir, in mine opinion, there is none good but God, and therefore call me Mistresse. Then said Cut- 14 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE bert, Faire Mistris, I haue often mused, that you being a proper woman, could find in your heart for to match with such a greazie Carle as this, an euill mannered mate, a foule lump of kitchin-stuffe, and such a one as is indeede, a scorne of men ; how can you like him that all women mislikes ? orloue such a loathsome creature? me thinks verily it should grieue you to lend him a kisse, much more to lie with him. Indeed sir, quoth she, I had but hard fortune in this respect, but my friends would haue it so, and truly my liking and my loue toward him are alike, he neuer had the one, nor neuer shall get the other : yet I may say to you Before I married him, there were diuers proper young men that were sutors vnto me, who loued mee as their liues, and glad was he that could get my company, those were my golden dayes, wherein my pleasure abounded, but these yeeres of care and griefe, wherin my sorrowes exceede. Now no man regards mee, no man cares for me, and albeit in secret they might beare mee good-will, yet who dares shew it ? and this is a double griefe, he carries ouer me so iealous a minde, that I cannot looke at a man, but presently he accuseth me of inconstancy, although (I protest) without cause. And in troth, qd. Cutbert, he should haue cause to complaine for somewhat, were I as you. As sure as 1 liue, and so he shall, quoth she, if he doe not change his byas. Cutbert hearing her say so, began to grow further in requesting her fauour, wishing he might be her seruaut and secret friend, and the better to obtaine OF THOMAS OF READING. 15 his desire, he gaue her diuers gifts, insomuch that she began something to lissen vnto him : and albeit she liked well of his speeches, yet would she blame him, and take him vp very short sometimes for the same, till in the end, Cutbert shewed himselfe to be desperate, saying hee would drowne himselfe rather than liue in her disdaine. O my sweet heart not so, quoth shee, God forbid 1 should be the death of any man : Comfort thy selfe, kind Cutbert, and take this kisse in token of further kindnesse, and if thou wilt haue my fauour, thou must be wise and circumspect, and in my husbands sight I would alwayes haue thee to find fault with my doings, blame my bad huswifries, dispraise my person, and take exceptions at euery thing whereby he will be as well pleased, as Simon of South-hampton with a messe of pottage. Deare Mistresse, quoth he, I will fulfill your charge to the vttermost, so that you will not take my iest in earnest. Shec answered, Thy foulest speeches I will esteeme the fairest, and take euery dispraise to be a praise from thee, turning each word to the contrary : and so for this time adieu, good Cutb. for supper time drawes neere, and it is meet for me to looke for my meat. With that down comes old Bosome, calling his wife, saying, Ho Winifred, is supper ready ? they haue done playing aboue : therefore let the Chamberlaine couer the Table. By and by, qd. she, it shall be done straight-way. How now my Masters who wins, qd. Cutbert ? Our money walkes to the West, qd. Martin : 16 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE Cole hath woone 40 pounds of me, and Gray hath gotten well : the best is (jd. Hodgekins, they will pay for our supper : then let vs haue good store of Sacke, qd. Sutton. Content said Cole, for I promise you, I striue not to grow rich by Dice-playing, therefore call for what you will, I will pay for all. Yea said Simon ! Chamberlaine, I pray thee bring a whole bottle of pottage for me. Now Tom Doue had all the fidlers at a becke of his finger, which follow him vp and down the City, as diligent as little chickens after a hen, and made a vow, that there should want no Musicke. And at that time there liued in London a Musician of great reputa- tion, named Reior, who kept his seruants in such costly garments, that they might seeme to come before any Prince. Their coates were all of one colour ; and it is said, that afterward the Nobility of this Land, noting it for a seemely sight, vsed in like manner to keepe their men all in one liuery. This Reior was the most skil- fullest Musician that liued at that time, whose wealth was very great, so that all the Instruments whereon his ser- uants plaid, were richly garnished with studdesof siluer, and some gold : the bowes belonging to their Violines were all likewise of pure siluer. Hee was also for his wisedome called to great Office in the City, who also builded (at his owne costl the Priory and Hospital of S. Bartholomew in Smithfield. His seruants being the best consorts in the City, were by Tom Doue appointed to play before the young Princes. Then supper being brought to the boord, they all sat down, and by and by OF THOMAS OF READING. 17 after comes vp their Oast, who tooke his place among them : and anon after, the good wife in a red peticote and a waistcoate, comes among them as white as a Lilly, saying, My Masters, you are welcome, I pray you he merry. Thus falling close to their meate, when they had well fed, they found leysure to talke one with another : at what time Cutb. began thus to finde fault, Ywis, my Oast, quoth he, you haue a wise huswife to your wife, heere is meate drest of a new fashion ? God sends meate, and the deuil sends cooks. Why what ailes the meate, quoth she, serues it not your turnes ? better men then your selfe are content withall, but a paultry companion is euer worst to please. Away, you sluttish thing, qd. Cutbert, your husband hath a sweet Jewell of you : I maruell such a graue ancient man would match himselfe with such a young giglot that hath as much handsomenes in her, as good huswifry, which is iust nothing at all. Well sir, said shee, in regard of my husbands presence I am loth to aggrauate anger, otherwise I would tell thee thy owne. Goe to, what needs all this, quoth the company ? in good faith, Cutbert, you are to blame, you find fault where none is. Tush, I must speake my mind, quoth Cutbert, T cannot dissemble, I trust the good man thinkes neuer the worse of me : so I haue his good will, what the foule euill care I for his wifes. Enough, quoth Tom Doue, let vs with Musicke remoue these brabbles, we meane to be merry, and not melancholy. Then said old Cole, Now trust me, Cutbert, we will have your Oastesse and you c 18 THE PLEASANT 11IST0U1E friends ere we part : here woman I drinke to you, and regard not his words, for he is bahbling wheresoeuer he comes. Quoth the woman, Nothing grieues me so much, as that hee should thus openly checke mee : if he had found any thing amisse, he might haue spied a better time to tell mee of it then nowe, ywis he need not thrust my bad huswifrie into my husbands head, I Hue not so quietly with him, God wot : and with that she wept. Come Cutbert, quoth they, drinke to her, and shake hands and be friends. Come on, you puling baggage, quoth he, I drinke to you, here will you pledge mee and shake hands ? No, (quoth shee) I will see thee choaekt first, shake hands with thee ? I will shake hands with the deuill as soone. Goe to, said her husband, you shall shake hands with him then : If you will not shake hands, He shake you : what, you young huswife ? Well, husband, said she, it becomes a woman to obey her husband, in regard whereof, I drink to him. Thats well said, quoth the company : and so she tooke her leave and went downe. And within a while after they paid the shot, and departed thence to Iarrats Hall, where they went to their lodging ; and the next day they tooke their way homeward altogether : and comming to Colebrooke, they tooke vp their lodging : and it was Coles custome to deliuer his money to the good wife of the house to keepe it till morning, which in the end turned to his vtter destruction, as hereafter shall be shewed. OF THOMAS OF READING. 19 How Grays wife of Glocester, with one or two more of her neighbours went to the Faire, where seruants came to be hired, and how she tooke the Earle of Shrewesburies Daughter into her seruice, Chap. 3. It was wont to be an old custome in Glocestershire, that at a certaine time in the yeere, all such young men and Maidens as were out of seruice, resorted to a faire that was kept neere Glocester, there to be ready for any that would come to hire them, the young men stood all on a row on the one side, and the maidens on the other. It came to pass, that the Earle of Shrewsburies daughter, ( whose father was lately banished, being driven into great distresse, and weary with trauell, as one whose delicate life was neuer vsed to such toyle, sate her downe vpon the high-way side, making this lamentation: O false and deceitfull world, quoth she ! who is in thee that wishes not to be rid of thee, for thy extremities are great? Thou art deceitfull to all, and trusty to none. Fortuner is thy treasurer, who is like thy selfe, wauering and vnconstant, she setteth vp tyrants, beateth downe Kings : giueth shame to . some, and renowne to others : Fortune giueth these euils, and we see it not : with her hands she toucheth vs, and we feele it not; she treades vs vnder foot, and we know it not; she speakes in our cares, and we heare her not; she cries aloud, and we vnderstand her not : And why? because we know her not, vntill misery doth make her manifest. Ah my deare father, well maist thou doe. Of all -0 THE PLEASANT HISTOIUE misfortunes it is most vnhappy to be fortunate : and by this misfortune came my fall. Was euer good Lady brought to this extremity? What is become of my rare Jewels, my rich aray, my sumptuous fare, my waiting seruants, my many friends, and all my vaine pleasures ? my pleasure is banisht by displeasure, my friends fled like foes, my seruants gone, my feasting turned to fast- ing, my rich array consumed to ragges, and my iewels decke out my chiefest enemies: therefore of all things the meanest state is best, pouerty with surety, is better than honour mixed with feare : seeing God hath allotted me to this misery of life, I will frame my heart to em- brace humility, and carry a mind answerable to my mis- fortunes, fie on this vaine title of Ladiship, how little doth it auaile the distressed ? No, no, I must therefore forget my birth and parentage, and think no more on my fathers house, where I was wont to bee serued, now will I learne to serue, and plaine Meg shall be my name, good Lord grant I may get a good seruice, nay any ser- nice shall serue, where I may haue meat, drinke, and apparell. She had no sooner spoken these words, but she spied a couple of maidens more comming towards her ; who were going to the faire : and bidding her good morrow, asked her if she went to the faire. Yea mary qd. she I am a poor mans child that is out of seruice, and I heare that at the Statute, folkes doe come of pur- pose to hire seruants. True it is, said the Maidens, and thither goe we for the same purpose, and would be glad of your company. With a good will, and I am right OF THOMAS OF READING. 21 glad of yours, said she, beseeching - you good Maidens, v ou will doe me the fauour, to tell me what seruice were best for me : for the more too blame my parents, they would neuer put me forth to know any thing. Why what can you doe (quoth the Maidens?) can you brew and bake, make butter and cheese, and reape come well : No verily, said Margaret, but I would be right glad to learne to doe any thing whatsoever it be. If you could spin or card, said another, you might do ex- cellent well with a Clother, for they are the best seruices that I know, there yon shall be sure to fare well, and so liue merrily. Then Margaret wept, saying, alas, what shall I doe 1 I was neuer brought vp to these things. What, can you doe nothing, quoth they ? No truly (quoth she) that is good for any thing, but I can read and write, and so we, some skill I have in my needle, and a little on my Lute : but this, I see will profit me nothing. Good Lord, quoth they, are you bookish? "wee did neuer heare of a Maide before that could reade and write. And although you can doe no other thing, yet possible you may get a seruice, if you can behaue your selfe manerly. I pray you qd. another, seeing you are bookish, will you doe so much as to reade a loue-letter that is sent me ? for I was at a friends of mine with it, and he was not at home, and so I know not what is in it. I pray you let me see it, quoth Margaret, and I will shew you. Whereupon ;0 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE for albeit that the next time that he came to London, his horse stumbled and broke one of his legs as he should ride homeward, yet hired he another to hasten his owne death ; for there is no remedy but he should goe to Colebrooke that night : but by the way he was heauy asleepe, that he could scant keepe himselfe in the saddle ; and when he came neere vnto the Towne, his nose burst out suddenly a bleeding. Well, to his I nne he came, and so heauy was his heart that lie could eate no meat : his Oast and Oastesse hearing he was so melancholy, came vp to cheare him, saying, Jesus Master Cole, what ayles you to night ? neuer did we see you thus sad before : will it please you to haue a quart of burnt sacke ? With a good will (quoth he) and would to God Tom Doue were here, he would surely make me merry, and we should lacke no musicke : but I am sorry for the man with all my heart, that he is come so farre behind hand : but alas, so much can euery man say, but what good doth it him ? No, no, it is not words can helpe a man in this case, the man had need of other reliefe then so. Let me see : I haue but one child in the world, and that is my daughter, and halfe that I haue is hers, the other halfe my wifes. What then? shall 1 be good to no body but them ? In consciem e, my wealth is too much for a couple to pos- sesse, and what is our Religion without charity ? And to whom is charity more to be shewne, then to decaid house-holders ? Good my Oast lend me a pen and inke, and some OF THOMAS OF READING. 81 paper, for I will write a letter vnto the poore man straight; and something I will giue him: That almes which a man bestowes with his owne hands, he shall be sure to haue deliuered, and God knowes how long I shall Hue. With that, his Oastesse dissemblingly answered, saying, Doubt not, Master Cole, you are like enough by the course of nature to liue many yeeres. God knowes (quoth he) I neuer found my heart so heauy before. By this time pen, inke, and paper was brought, setting himselfe in writing as followeth. In the name of God, Amen. I bequeath my soule to God, and my body to the ground, my goods equally betweene my wife Elenor, and Isabel my daughter. Item I giue to Thomas Doue of Exeter one hundred pounds, nay that is too little, I giue to Thomas Doue two hundred pounds in money, to be paid vnto him presently vpon his demand thereof by my said wife and daughter. Ha, how say you Oast (qd. he) is not this well ? I pray you reade it. His Oast looking thereon, said, why Master Cole, what haue you written here ? you said you would write a letter, but me thinks you haue made a Will, what neede haue you to doe thus ? thanks be to God, you may liue many faire yeeres. Tis true (quoth Cole) if it please God, and I trust this writing cannot shorten my daies, but let me see, haue I made a Will ? Now, I promise you, I did verily purpose to write a G 82 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE letter : notwithstanding, I have written that that God put iuto my mind : but looke onee againe my Oast, is it not written there, that Doue shall haue two hundred pounds, to be paid when he comes to demand it ? yes indeed said his Oaste. Well then, all is well, said Cole, and it shall goe as it is for me. I will not bestow the new writing thereof any more. Then folding it vp, he sealed it, desiring that his Oast would send it to Exeter : he promised that he would, notwithstanding Cole was not satisfied : but after some pause, he woulds needs hire one to carry it. And so sitting downe sadly in his chaire againe, vpon a sudden he burst forth a weeping ; they demanding the cause thereof, he spake as followeth : No cause of these feares I know : but it comes now into my minde (said Cole) when I set toward this my last iourney to London, how my daughter tooke on, what a coyle she kept to haue me stay, and I could not be rid of the little baggage a long time, she did so hang about me, when her mother by violence tooke her away, she cryed out most mainly, O my father, my father, 1 shall neuer see him againe. Alas, pretty soule, said his Oa3tesse, this was but meere kindnesse in the girle, and it seemeth she is very fond of you. But alas, why should you grieue at this ? you must cousider that it was but childishnesse. I, it is indeed, said Cole, and with that he began to nod. Then they asked him if he would goe to bed. No, said he, although I am heauy, I haue no mind to goe to bed OF THOMAS OF HEADING. 83 at all. With that certaine musicians of the towne came to the chamber, and knowing Master Cole was there, drue out their instruments, and very solemnly began to play. This musicke comes very well (said Cole) and when he had listned a while thereunto, he said, Me thinks these instrumets sound like the ring of St. Mary Oueries bells, but the Base drowns all the rest : and in my eare it goes like a bell that rings a forenoones knell, for Gods sake let them leaue off, and beare them this simple reward. The Musicians being gone, his Oast asked if now it would please him to goe to bed ; for (quoth he) it is welneere eleuen of the clocke. With that Cole beholding his Oast and Oastesse earnestly, began to start backe, saying, what aile you to looke so like pale death ? good Lord, what haue you done, that your hands are thus bloody 1 What my hands, said his Oast ? W T hy, you may see they are neither bloody nor foule : either your eyes doe greatly dazell, or else fancies of a troubled minde doe delude you. Alas, my Oast, you may see, said bee, how weake my wits are, I neuer had my head so idle before. Come, let me drinke once more, and then I will to bed, and trouble you no longer. With that hee made himselfe vnready, and his Oastesse was very diligent to warme a kerchiffe, and put it about his head. Good Lord, said he, I am not sicke, I praise God, but such an alteration I finde in my selfe as I neuer did before. With that the scritch-owle cried pitiously, and anon 84 THE PLEASANT HIST0R1E after the night-rauen sate croaking; hard by his window. Iesu haue mercy vpon me, quoth hee, what an ill— fauoured cry doe yonder carrion birds make, and there- withall he laid him downe in his bed, from whence he neuer rose agaiuei His Oast and Oastesse, that all this while noted his troubled mind, began to commune betwixt themselues thereof. And the man said, he knew not what were best to be done. By my consent (quoth he) the matter should passe, for I thinke it is not best to meddle on him. What man (quoth she) faint you now? haue you done so many and do you shrinke at this ? Then shew- ing- him a great deale of gold which Cole had left with her, she said, Would it not grieue a bodies heart to lose this ? hang the old churle, what should he doe liuing any longer ? he hath too much, and we haue too little : tut husband, let the thing be done, and then this is our owne. Her wicked counsell was followed, and when they had listned at his chamber doore, they heard the man sound asleepe : All is safe, quoth they, and downe into the kitchin they goe, their seruants being all in bed, and pulling out the yron pins, downe fell the bed, and the man dropt out into the boyling caldron. He being dead, they betwixt them cast his body into the riuer, his clothes they made away, and made all things as it should be : but when hee came to the stable to conuey thence Coles horse, the stable doore being open, the horse had got loose, and with a parr of the halter about OF THOMAS OF READING. 86 his necke, and straw trussed vnder his belly, as the Ostlers had dressed him ore eue, he was gone out at the back-side, which led into a great field ioyning to the house, and so leaping diuers hedges, being a lustie stout horse, had got into a ground where a mare was grasing, with whom he kept such a coile, that they got into the high-way, where one of the Towne meeting them, knew the mare, and brought her and the horse to the man that owd her. In the meane space, the Musicians had beene at the Inne, and in requitall of their euenings gift, they in- tended to giue Cole some musicke in the morning. The good-man told them he tooke horse before day : likewise there was a guest in the house that would haue bore him company to Reading, vnto whom the Oast also answered, that he himselfe set him vpon horsebacke, and that he went long agoe. Anon came the man that owed the mare, inquiring vp and downe, to know and if none of them missed a horse, who said no. At the last hee came to the signe of the Crane where Cole lay : and calling the Oastlers, he demanded of them if they lackt none, they said no: Why then said the man, I perceiue my mare is good for something, for if I send her to field single, she will come home double : thus it passed on all that day and the night following. But the next day after, Coles wife musing that her hus- band ca:ne not home, sent one of her men on horse- backe, to see if he could meete him : and if (quoth she) you meet him not betwixt this and Colebrooke, aske for him at the Crane, but if you find him not there, then 86 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE ride to Loudon ; for I doubt he is either sicke or else some mischance hath fallen vnto him. The fellow did so, and asking for him at Colebrooke, they answered, hee went homeward from thence such a day. The seruant musing what should be become of his Master, and making much inquiry in the Towne for him : at length one told him of a horse that was found on the high-way, and no man knew whence he came. He going to see the horse, knew him presently, and to the Crane he goes with him. The Oast of the house perceiuing this, was blanke, and that night fled secretly away. The fellow going vnto the Justice desired his helpe : presently after word was brought that larman of the Crane was gone, then all the men said, he had sure made Cole away : and the Musicians told what larman said to them, when they would haue giuen Cole musicke. Then the woman being apprehended and ex- amined, confessed the truth. larman soone after was taken in Windsor Forest, he and his wife were both hangd, after they had laid open al these things before expressed. Also he confessed, that he being a Car- penter made that false falling floore, and how his wife deuised it. And how they had murdered by that means Ix. persons. And yet notwithstanding all the money which they had gotten thereby, they pros- pered not, but at their death were found very farre in debt. When the King heard of this murder, he was for the space of vii dayes so sorrowfull and heauie, as he would not heare any suite, giuing also commandement, that OF THOMAS OF READING. 87 the house should quite be consumed with fire, wherein Cole was murdered, and that no man should euer build vpon that cursed ground. Coles substance at his death was exceeding great, hee had daily in his house an hundred men seruants and xl. maides ; hee maintained beside aboue two or three hundred people, spinners and carders, and a great many other house-holders. His wife neuer after married, and at her death shee bestowed a mightie summe of money toward the maintaining of the new builded Monastery. Her daughter was most richly married to a Gentleman of great worship, by whom she had many children. And some say, that the riuer whereinto Cole was cast, did euer since carrie the name of Cole being called The riuer of Cole, and the Towne of Colebrooke. How diuers of the Clothiers wiues went to the Church- ing of Suttons wife of Salisbury, and of their merri- ment. Ch. 12. Svttons wife of Salisbury Avhich had lately bin deliuered of a sonne, against her going to Church, prepared great cheare : at what time Simons wife of Southampton came thither, and so did diuers others of the Clothiers wiues, onely to make merry at this Churching feast: and whilest these Dames sate at the Table, Crab, Weasell, and Wren, waited on the boord, and as the old Prouerbe speaketh, Many women many words, so fell it out at that time : for there was such prattling that it passed : some talkt of their husbands frowardnes, some shewed 88 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE their maids sluttishnes, othersome deciphered the coat- lines of their garments, some told many tales of their neighbours : and to be briefe, there was none of them but would haue talke for a whole day. But when Crab, Weasell, and Wren saw this, they concluded betwixt theinselues, that as oft as any of the women had a good bit of meate on their trenchers, they offering a cleane one, should catch that commodity, and so they did : but the women being busie in talke, marked it not, till at the last one found leisure to misse her meat : whereupon she said, that their boldness exceeded their diligence. Not so, forsooth, said Weasell, there is an hundred bolder then we. Name me one, said the woman if you can. A flea is bolder, quoth Crabbe. How will you proue that, said the woman? Because, quoth he, they will creepe vnder your coates, where we dare not come, and now and then bite you by the buttocks as if they were brawne. But what becomes of them, qd. the woman ? their sweet meat hath sowre sauce, and their lustines doth often cost them their Hues, therefore take heed. A good warning of a faire woman, said Wren, but I had not thought so fine a wit in a fat belly. The women seeing their men so merry, said it was a signe there was good ale in the house Thats as fit for a Churching quoth Weasell, as a cudgell for a curst queane. Thus with pleasant communication and merry quips they droue out the time, till the fruit and spice- cakes were set on the boord : At what time one of them OF THOMAS OF READING. 89 began to aske the other, if they heard not of the cruell murder of Thomas of Reading ? What, said the rest, is old Cole murdered ? when, I pray you was the deed done » The other answered, on Friday last, O good Lord, said the women, how was it done, can you tell ? As report goes, said the other, he was rosted aliue. pitifull ! was hee roasted 1 Indeed I heard one say, a man was murdred at London, and that he was sodden at an Inholders house, and serued it to the guests in stead of porke. No neighbour, it was not at London, said another ; 1 heare say twas coming from London, at a place called Colebrook, and it is reported for truth, that the Inholder made pies of him, and penny pasties, yea, and made his owne seruant eate a piece of him. But I pray you good neighbour, can you tell how it was knowne : some say, that a horse reuealed it. Now by the masse (quoth Grayes wife) it was told one of my neighbours, that a certaine horse did speake, and told great things. That sounds like a lie, said one of them. Why, said another, may not a horse speake, as well as Balaam asse ? It may be, but it is vnlikely> said the third. But where was the horse when he spake? As some say, qd. she, he was in the field, and had broke out of the stable, where he stood fast locked in mighty strong yron fetters, which hee burst in peeces as they had beene straws, and broke downe the stable doore, and so got away. The good-man comming in at these speeches, asked what that was they talkt of. 90 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE Marry, said his wife wee heare that Cole of Reading is murdred : I pray you is it true ? I, said Sutton, it is true, that vile villaine his Oast murdered him, in whose house the man had spent many a pound. But did they make pies of him, said his wife ; No, no, quoth her husband : he was scalded to death in a boyling caldron, and afterward throwne into a running riuer that is hard by. But good husband, how was it knowne? By his horse, quoth hee. What, did hee tell his master was murdered ? could the horse speake English ? Jesus what a foolish woman are you, quoth he, to aske such a ques- tion ? But to end this, you are all heartily welcome, good neighbours, and I am sorry you had no better cheere. So with thanks the women departed. Thus haue yee heard the diuers tales that will be spred abroad of an euil deed. How Duke Robert deceiued his keepers, and got from them : how he met faire Margaret, and in carrying her away, was taken for the which he had his eyes put out. Chap. 13. Duke Robert, hauing, as you heard, obtained the loue of faire Margaret, did now cast in his mind, how hee might delude his Keepers, and carry her quite away. In the end he being absolutely resolued what to doe, sent this letter vnto her, wherein he requested, that she would be readie to meet him in the Forrest, betwixt Cardiffe and Glocester. The young Lady hauing secretly receiued his mes- OF THOMAS OF READING. 91 sage, vnknowne to her master or dame, in a morning betime made her ready and got forth, walking to the appointed place, where her Loue should meet her. During her aboade there, and thinking long ere her Loue came, she entred into diuers passions, which in- deed presaged some disaster fortune to follow. O my deare Loue, said shee, how slacke art thou in perform- ing thy promise ! why doe not thy deeds agree with thy indicting? see these are thy words, Come, my deare Margaret, and with Cupids swift wings flie to thy friend, be now as nimble in thy footing, as the Camels of Bac- tria, that runne an hundred miles a day, I will waite and stay for thee, so I stay not too long. There is no Country like Austria for ambling horses, and to carry thee I haue got one. O my Loue (quoth she) here am I, but where art thou? O why doest thou play the trewant with time, who like the wind slides away vnseene ? An ambling gennet of ^paine is too slow to serue our tumes. A flying horse, for flying Louers were most meete. And thus casting many lookes thorow the Siluane shades, vp and downe to espie him, she thought euery minute an houre, till she might see him, sometimes she would wish her self a bird, thar she might flie through the ayre to meet him, or a pretty squirill to clime the highest tree to descry his coming: but finding her wishes vaine, she began thus to excuse him and perswaded her selfe, saying : How much to blame am I, to finde fault with my 3 92 THE PLEASANT HISTOUIE friend ? Alas, men that lacke their liberty, must come when they can, not when they would, poore prisoners cannot doe what they desire, and then why should I be so hastie 1 Therefore if safely I may lay me down I will beguile vnquiet thoughts with quiet sleepe : it is said that Galino breeds no Serpents, nor doth Englands forrests nourish Beares or Lyons, therefore without hurt I hope I may rest awile. Thus leauing faire Mar- garet in a sweet slumber, we will returne to Duke Robert, who had thus plotted his escape from his keepers. Hauing liberty of the King to hawke and hunt, hee determined on a day, as he should follow the chase, to leaue the hounds to the Hart, and the hunters to their homes, and being busie in their sport, himselfe would flie, which hee performed at that time when hee ap- pointed Margaret to meete him, and so comming to the place, his horse all on a water, and himself in a sweat, finding his Loue asleepe, he awaked her with a kisse, saying, Arise faire Margaret, now comes the time wherein thou shalt be made a Queene^ and presently setting her on horsebacke, he posted away. Now, when the Keepers saw they had lost his com- pany, and that at the killing of the game, hee was not present, they were among themselues in such a mutiny, that they were ready one to stabbe another. It was thy fault, said one, that hee thus escapt from vs, that hadst more mind of thy pleasure, then of thy prisoner, and by this meanes we are all yudone. The other said as much OF THOMAS OF READING. 0,3 to him, that he had thought he had followed him in the chase: hut leauing at last this contention, the one posted rp to the King, while the others coasted vp and downe the Country to search for the Duke, who hauing kild his horse in trauelling, was most vnhappily mette on foot with faire Margaret, ere he could come to any towne, where he might for money haue another. But when he espved his Keepers come to take him, he de- sired Margaret to make shift for herselfe, and to seeke to escape them. But she being of a contrary mind, said, she would liue and die with him. The Duke seeing himselfe ready to be surprized, drew out his sword, and said, he would buy his liberty with his life, before he would yeeld to be any more a prisoner; and thereupon began a great fight betwixt them, inso- much that the Duke had killed two of them ; but him- selfe being sore wounded, and faint with ouermuch bleed- ing, at length fell downe, being not able any longer to stand ; and by this meanes the good Duke was taken with his faire loue, and both of them committed to prison. But in the meane space, when Grayes wife had missed her maide, and saw she was quite gone, she made great lamentation for her among her neighbours, for she loued her as dearly as any child that euer she bore of her owne body. O Margaret, (quoth she) what cause hadst thou thus to leaue ine ? if thou didst mislike of any thing, why didst thou not tell me? If thy wages l}4 THE PLEASANT HISTOKIt were too little, I would haue mended it : If thy apparell had been too simple, thou shouldst haue had better : If thy worke had bin too great, I would haue had helpe for thee. Farewell my sweet Meg, the best seruant that euer came in any mans house, many may I haue of thy name, but neuer any of thy nature, thy diligence is much, in thy hands I laid the whole gouernment of my house, and thereby eased myselfe of that care, which now will cum- ber me. Heere shee hath left me my keyes vnto my chests, but my comfort is gone with her presence, euery gentle word that she was wont to speake, comes now into my mind, her courteous behauiour shall I neuer forget : with how sweet and modest a countenance would she qualifie my ouer-hastie nature ? It repents my heart that euer I spoke foule word vnto her. O Meg, wert thou here againe, I would neuer chide thee more : but 1 was an vnworthy Dame for such a seruant : what will become of me now, if I should chance to be sicke, see- ing she is gone, that was wont to be both my Apoticary and Physician ? Well, quoth her neighbours, there is no remedy now, but to rest content, you shall one day heare of her, doubt you not, and thinke this, that she was not so good, but you may get another as good, and therefore doe not take it so heauily. O neighbour, blame me not to grieue, seeing I haue lost so great a iewell, and sure I am per- OF THOMAS OF READING. 95 swaded, that scant in a bodies life time, they shall meet with the like- 1 protest, I would circuit England round about on my bare feet to meet with her againe. O, my Meg was surely stole away from me, else would she not haue gone in such sort. Her husband on the other side grieued as much, and rested not night nor day riding vp and downe to seeke her; but shee poore soule, is fast lockt vp in prison, and therfore cannot be met withall. But when the King vnderstood of his brothers es- cape, hee was maruelous wroth, giuing great charge and commandement when he was taken, that both his eyes should be put out and be kept in prison till his dying day; appointing also that the Maid should lose her life for presumption of louing him. This matter being rumoured ouer all England, it came to the eares of Gray and his wife, who hearing that Margaret also was there in prison appointed to die, the good aged woman neuer rested till she came to the Court, where kneeling before the King with many teares she besought his Maiestie to spare the Maidens life, saying, Most royall King consider, I humbly beseech you, that the Duke your brother was able to entice any woman to his loue : much more a silly Maiden, espe- cially promising her marriage, to make her a Lady, a Dutchesse, or a Queene, who would refuse sOch an offer, when at the instant they might get both a princely hus- band and a high dignity : if death be a Loners guerdon, 96 THE PLEASANT I1IST0KIE Y then what is due to hatred? I am in my heart per- swaded, that had my poore Margaret thought it would haue bred your Highnes displeasure, she would neuer haue bought his loue so deare. Had your Grace made it known to your Commons, that it was vnlawful for any to marry the Duke your brother, who would haue at- tempted such an action . if she had wilfully disobeyed your Graces commandement, she might haue been thought worthy of death; but seeing ignorantly she offended, I beseech your Grace to recall the sentence, and let me still enioy my seruant, for neuer will 1 rise, till your Maiestie haue granted my petition. His Highnes, who was of nature mercifull, beholding the womans abundant teares, tooke pitie on her, aud granted her suite: which being obtained, shee went home in all haste possible. And from thence, slice with her husband taking their ioumey to Cardiffe castle, they came at that very instant when the Maiden was led to- ward her death, who went in most ioyfull sort to the same, saying, that they were not worthy to be accounted true louers, that were not willing to die for loue : and so with a smiling countenance she passed on, as if she had eaten Apium Jlisus, which causeth a man to die laughing: but her Dame Gray seeing her, fell about her nccke, and with many kisses imbraced her, saying, Thou shalt not die my wench, but goe home with me; and for thy dcliuery, behold here the Kings letters ; and with that she deliuered them vp to the governour of the Castle: who reading them found these words written : OF THOMAS OF READING. 97 Wee pardon the maids life, and grant her liberty, hut let her not passe, till she see her louers eyes put out, which we will haue you doe in such sort that not onely the sight may perish, but the eye continue faire, for which cause I baue sent downe Doctor Piero, that he may execute the same. The Gouernour of the Castle hauing read the Kings letter, said thus to the Maiden : The Kings Maiesty hath pardoned thy life, and allowed thy liberty : but you must not passe before you see your Louers eyes put out. O sir, said the Maiden, mistake not your selfe, they are my eyes that must be put out, and not the Dukes : as his offence grew by my meanes, so I being guilty, ought to receiue the punishment. The Kings commandement must be fulfilled, said the Gouernour : and therewithall Duke Robert was brought forth, who hearing that he must lose his eyes, said thus : The Noble mind is neuer conquered by *> griefe, nor ouercome by mischance : but as the Hart reneweth his age by eating the Serpent, so doth a man lengthen his life with deuouring sorrow : my eyes haue offended the King, and they must be punished, my heart is in as great fault, why is not that killed ? The Kings Maiesty, said the Gouernour, spares your life of meere loue, and onely is content to satisfie the Law with the losse of your eyes, wherefore take in good part this punishment, and thinke you haue deserued greater then is granted. With this Margaret cryed out, saying, O my deare H 98 THE PLEASANT HIST0R1E Loue, most gentle Prince, well may you wish that I had neuer bin borne, who by seeing of mee must lose your sight ; but happie should I count my selfe, if it so please the King, that I might redeeme thy eyes with my life : or else, that being an equall offender, I might receiue equall punishment : hadst thou sustained this smart for some Queene or Princesse of high blood, it might with the more ease be borne, but to endure it for such a one as I, it must needs cause a treble griefe to be increased. Content thee faire Margaret said the Duke : -for— honour ought to be giuen to vertue, and not riches for Glory, Honor, Nobility and riches without vertue, are but clokes of maliciousnes. And now let me take my leaue of thy beauty, for neuer must I behold thy face : notwithstanding I account my eyes well lost, in that I doe forgoe them for so peereles a paragon. Now faire heauens farewell, the Sunne, Moone, and Starres shall I in this world neuer behold againe, and farewell also the fruitfull earth : well may I feele thee, but those poore windowes of my body are now denyed to view thee any more : and though the world hath euer bin my foe, yet will I bid thee farewell too, and farewell all my friends, whiles I live here in this world, I must suppose to sleepe and wake when I come in heauen, where I hope to see you all againe. Yet had it pleased the King, I had rather haue lost my life then my eyes. Life, why, what is it but a flowre, a bubble in the water, a spanne long, and full of miserie : of such small account is life, that OF THOMAS OF READING. 99 euery Soldier will sell it for six pence. And trust me, I doe now detest life, worse then a goat doth hate Basill. With that the Doctor prepared his instrument, and being 1 ready to set to the Dukes eyes, he said, O stay Master Doctor, till I haue conueyed my Loues counte- nance downe into my heart : Come hither my sweet, and let me giue thee my last kisse, while mine eyes may direct me to thy cherry lips. Then iinbracing her in his armes, he said, O that I might giue thee a kisse of xx yeeres long, and to satisfie my greedy eyes with thy sight : yet it doth somewhat content me, because thou art present at my punishment, that I may hold thee by the hand, to comfort my heart, at the sudden pricke of my eye. This being said, the Doctor performed his duty, and so put out the christall sight : at what time D. Robert started vp and with a most manly courage said, I must thanke his Maiestie, that though hee depriueth me of my sight, yet he leaueth me eyes to weepe for my sinnes. But so soone as Margaret beheld the deed, she fell downe in a swoune; and much a doe her- dame had to recouer her life : which when the Duke vnderstood, hee wa3 wondrous woe, groaping for her with his bleeding eyes, saying O where is my Loue ? for Gods sake haue regard to her. And I pray you most heartily, good good-wife Gray, let her haue this fauour for my sake, that she may be vsed kindly. And with that the Keepers led him into the Castle, and Margaret was carried away 100 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE wondrous sickc and ill : but her dame was most tender ouer her; and would suffer her to lacke nothing. When she was somewhat well recouered, her Dame Gray set her on horsebacke : and at her comming to Glocester, there was no small ioy. How Thomas Doue being fallen to decay, was forsaken of his friends, and despised of his seruants : and how in the end he was raised againe through the liberality of the Clothiers. Chap. 14. Such as seeke the pleasure of the world, follow a shadow wherein is no substance : and as the adder Aspis tickleth a man to death, so doth vaine pleasure flatter vs, till it makes vs forget God, and consume our substance, as by Tom Doue it is apparent, who had through a free heart, and a liberall minde wasted his wealth ; and looke how his goods consumed, so his friends fled from him : And albeit he had beene of great ability, and thereby done good vnto many, yet no man regarded him in his pouerty, but casting a scornefull countenance vpon him, they passed by him with slender salutation ; neither would any of his former acquaintance do him good, or pleasure him the value of a farthing ; his former friendship done to them was quite forgot, and he made of as much account, as lob when he sate on the dunghill. Now, when his wicked seruants saw him in this dis- grace with the world, they on the other side began to disdaine him. Notwithstanding that hee (to his great OF THOMAS OF READING. 101 cost) had long time brought them vp, yet did they nothing regard it, but behind his backe in most scorne- full sort derided him, and both in their words and actions greatly abuse him, reuerence they would doe none vnto him, but when they spake, it was in such malapert sort, as would grieue an honest minde to heare it. At last it came to passe, that breaking out into meere contempt, they said they would stay no longer with him, and that it was a great discredit for them, to serue a person so beggerly : whereupon they thought it conue- nient to seeke for their benefits elsewhere. When the distressed man found the matter so plaine being in great griefe, he spake thus vnto them Now do I find, to my sorrow, the small trust that is in this false world. Why, my Masters (quoth he) haue you so much forgotten my former prosperity, that you nothing regard my present necessity ? in your wants I forsooke you not, in your sicknesse I left you not, nor despised you in your great pouerty : it is not vnknowne, though you doe not con- sider it, that I tooke some of you vp in the high-way, othersome from your needy parents, and brought the rest from meere beggery to a house of bounty ; where from paltrie boyes, I brought you vp to mans state, and haue, to my great cost, taught you a trade, whereby you may Hue like men. And in requitall cf all my courtesie, cost and good will, will you now on a sudden forsake me ? is this the best recompence that you can find your hearts to yeeld mee ? 102 THE PLEASANT H1ST01UE This is farre from the minds of honest seruants. The fierce Lion is kind to those that doe him good : plucke hut one thorne out of his foot, and for the same he will shew manifold fauors. The wilde Bull will not ouerthrow his dam : and the very Dragons are dutifull to their nourishers. Bee better aduised and call to mind, I beseech you, that I haue not pluckt a thorne out of your feet, butdrawne your whole bodies out of perils, and when you had no meanes to helpe your selues, I onely was your support, and he, that when all other forsooke you, did comfort you in all your extremities. And what of all this, quoth one of them ? because you tooke vs vp poore, doth it therefore follow, that we must be your slaues ? We are young-men, and for our part, we are no further to regard your profit, then it may stand with our preferment : Why should we lose our benefit to pleasure you? if you taught vs our trade, and brought vs vp from boies to men, you had our sendee for it, whereby you made no small benefit, if you had as well vsed it, as we got it. But if you be poore, you may thanke your selfe, being a iust scourge for your prodigalitie, and is my opinion plaine, that to stay with you, is the next way to make vs like you, neither aide to helpe our selues, nor our friends ; there- fore in briefe ; come pay me my wages, for I will not stay, let the rest doe as they will, for I am resolued. Well said his Master, if needs thou wilt be gone, here is part of thy wages in hand, and the rest as soone OF THOMAS OP READING. 103 as God sends it, thou shalt haue it : and with that, turning to the rest, he said, Let me yet intreat you to stay, and leaue me not altogether destitute of helpe : by your labours must I liue, and without you I know not what to doe. Consider therefore my need, and regard my great charge. And if for my sake you will doe nothing, take compassion of my poore children ; stay my sliding foot, and let me not vtterly fall, through your flying from me. Tush (quoth they) what do you talke to vs ? we can haue better wages, and serue a man of credit, where our fare shall be farre better, and our games greater : there- fore the world might count vs right coxcomes, if we should forsake our profit, to pleasure you : therefore adieu, God send you more money, for you are like to haue no more men : and thus they departed. When they were gone, within a while after they met one with another, saying, What cheare ? are you all come away : in faith I, what should we doe else, quoth they : but hear'st thou sirra, hast thou got thy wages ? Not yet saith the other, but I shall haue it, and that is as good, tis but x shillings. Saist thou so (said he) now I see thou art one of God Almighties idiots .- Why so, said the other? Because (quoth he) thou wilt be feJ with shales : but He tell thee one thing, twere better for thee quickly to arrest him, lest some other doing it before, and there be nothing left to pay thy debt: hold thy peace, faire words make fooles faine, and it is an old 104 THE PLEASANT HISTORIC saying-, One bird in hand is worth two in bush : if thou dost not arrest him presently, I will not giue thee two pence for thy x. shillings. How shall I come by him, quoth the other ? giue me but two pots of ale', and He betray him, said he. So they being agreed, this smooth-fac'd Iudas comes to his late master, and told him that a friend of his at the doore would speake with him. The vnmistrusting man thinking no euill, went to the doore where presently an Officer arrested him at his mans suite. The poore man seeing this, being strucken into a sudden sorrow, in the griefe of his heart spake to this effect : Ah thou lewd fellow, art thou the first man that seekes to augment my miserie ? Haue I thus long giuen thee bread, to breed my ouerthrow ? and nourisht thee in thy neede, to worke my destruction ? Full little did I thinke, when thou so often diddest dip thy false fingers In my dish, that I gaue food to my chiefest foe : but what boote complaints in these extremes ? Goe wife, quoth he, vnto my neighbours, and see if thou canst get any of them to be my baile. But in vaine was her paines spent. Then he sent to his kinsfolkes, and they denied him : to his brother, and he would not come at him, so that there was no shift, but to prison he must : but as he was going, a Messenger met him with a letter from Master Cole, wherein as you heard, hee had promised him two hundred pounds : which when the poore man read, hee greatly reioyced, and shewing the same to the OF THOMAS OF READING. 103 Officer, hee was content to take Lis owne word. Where- upon Tom Doue went ^presently to Reading, where at his comming, he found all the rest of the Clothiers, lamenting Coles vntimely death; where the wofull widdow paid him the money, by which deed all the rest of the Clothiers were induced to doe some- thing for Doue. And thereupon one gaue him ten pounds, another twenty, another thirtie pounds, to begin the world anew : and by this meanes (toge- ther with the blessing of God) he grew into greater credit then euer hee was before. And riches being thus come vpon him, his former friends came fawn- ing vnto him and when he had no neede of them, then euerie one was readie to proffer him kindnesse. His wicked seruants also that disdained him in his dis- tresse, were after glad to come creeping vnto him, intreating with cap and knee for his fauour and friendship. And albeit hee seemed to forgiue their trespasses done against him, yet hee would often say he would neuer trust them for a straw. And thus he euer after liued in great wealth and prosperitie, doing much good to the poore, and at his death, left to his children great lands. 106 THE PLEASANT H1STOIUE How faire Margaret made her estate and high birth knowne to her Master and Dame : and for the intire loue she bore to Duke Robert, made a vow neuer to marry, but became a Nun in the Abbey at Glocester. Chap. 15. After faire Margaret was come againe to Glocester neuer did she behold the cleare day, but with a weeping eye : and so great was the sorrow which she concerned, for the losse of Duke Robert her faithfull Louer, that she vtterly despised all the pleasures of this life, and at last bewrayed her selfe in this sort vnto her Dame : O my good Master and Dame, too long haue I dis- sembled my parentage from you, whom the froward destinies doe pursue to deserued punishment. The wofull daughter am I of the vnhappy Earle of Shrews- burie, who euer since his banishment, haue done nothing but drawne mischance after mee : wherefore let me in- treat you (dear Master and Dame) to haue your good wills, to spend the remnant of my life in some blessed Monasterie. When Gray and his wife heard this, they wondred greatly, as well at her birth, as at her strange demaund. Whereupon her dame knew not how to call her, whe- ther Maiden or Madam, but said, O good Lord, are you a Ladie, and I know it not ? I am sorrie that I knew it not before. But when the folkes of the house heard that Margaret was a Lady, there was no small altera- tion : and moreouer her Dame said, that she had OF THOMAS OF READING. 107 thought to haue had a match between her and her son : and by many perswasions did seeke to withdraw her from being a Nun, saying in this manner : What Mar- garet, thou art young and faire, the world (no doubt) hath better fortune for thee whereby thou maist leaue an honourable issue behind thee, in whom thou mayst Hue after death. These and many other reasons did they alledge vnto her, but all in vaine : she making this reply, Who knowes not that this world giueth the pleasure of an houre, but the sorrow of many daies J for it paith euer that which it promiseth, which is nothing else but con- tinuall trouble and vexation of the minde. Do you think, if I had the offer and choice of the mightiest Princes of Christendom, that I could match my selfe better then to my Lord Jesus ? No, no, hee is my husband, to whom I yeeld my selfe both body and soule, giuing to him my heart, my loue and my most firme affections : I haue ouerlong loued this vile world : therefore I beseech you farther disswade me not. When her friends by no meanes could alter her opinion, the matter was made knowne to his Maiestie, who against the time that she should be receiued into the Monasterie, came to Glocester with most part of his Nobilitie, to honour her action with his princely presence. All things being therefore prepared, the young Lady was in most princely wise attired in a gowne of pure white sattin, her kirtle of the same, embroidered with gold about the skirts in most curious sort, her head was l~ 108 THE PLEASANT HISTORIC garnished with gold, pearles, and precious stones, hauing her haire like thrids of burnisht gold, hanging downe behind in manner of a princely bride : about her yuory necke iewels of inestimable price were hung, and her handvvrests were compassed about with bracelets of bright-shining Diamonds. The streets thorow the which she should passe, were pleasantly deckt with greene oaken boughs. Then came the young Lady most like an heauenly Angell out of her masters house, at what time all the bells in Glo- cester were solemnly rung : she being led betwixt the Kings Maiestie, hauing on his Royal Robes, and Impe- riall Crowne, and the chiefe Bishop wearing his Miter, in a Cope of cloth of gold, euer her head a Canopy of white silke, fringed about in princely manner : before her went an hundred Priests singing, and after her all the chiefe Ladies of the Land : then all the wiues and Maidens of Glocester followed, with an innumerable sort of people on euery side standing to behold her. In this sort she passed on to the Cathedrall Church, where she was brought to the Nunry gate. The Lady Abbesse receiued her : where the beautiful Maiden kneeling downe, made her prayer in sight of all the people : then with her owne hands she vndid her virgins faire gowne, and tooke it off, and gaue it away to the poore : after that, her kirtle, then her iewels, bracelets and rings, saying, Farewell the pride and vanitie of this world. The ornaments of her head were the next shee gaue away ; and then was shee led on one OF THOMAS OP HEADING. 109 side, where she was stripped, and in stead of her smocke of soft silke had a smocke of rough haire put vpon her. Then came one with a paire of sheares, and cut off her golden-coloured lockes, and with dust and ashes all bestrewed her head and face. Which being done, she was brought againe into the peoples sight bare foot and bare leg'd, to whom she said ; Now farewell the world, farewell the pleasures of this life, farewell my Lord the King, and to the Dukes sweet loue farewell, now shall my eyes weepe for my former transgressions, and no more shall my tongue talke of vanity ; farewell my good Master and Dame, and farewell all good people. With which words she was taken away, and neuer after seene abroad. When Duke Robert heard thereof, he desired that at his death, his body might be buried in Glocester: in that Townc, quoth he, where first my cleare eyes beheld the heauenly beauty of my Loue, and where for my sake shee forsooke the world : which was performed accordingly. The King also at his death requested to be buried at Reading, for the great loue hee bare to that place, among those Clothiers, who liuing were his hearts com- fort. Gray dying wondrous wealthy, gaue land to the Monasterie whereinto Margaret was taken. William Fitzallen also dyed a most rich man, hauing builded many houses for the poore, whose sonne Henry after was the first Maior that was cuer in London. Sutton of Salisbury did also at his death much good, and gaue an hundred li. to be yeerely lent to poore 4 110 THE PLEASANT HISTORIE vveauers of the Towne, to the worlds end. Simon of South-hampton gaue a most bounteous gift towards the building 1 of a Monastery at Winchester. Hodgkins of Hallifax did also great good, and so did Cutbert of Kendall, who had married xxiii. couples out of his owne house, giuing each of them x. li. to beginne the world withall. Martin Briam of Manchester gaue toward the building of a free-schoole in Manchester, a great masse of money. And thus (gentle reader) haue I finished my storie of these worthy men, desiring thee to take my paines in good part, which will ingage me to greater matters, perceiuing this curteously accepted. FINIS. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. E35& m5 ' 89 \» 1 1 \ i \ 1)89 50m-7,'69(N296s4) — C-120 y o-\m L 005 330 934 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A A 000 345 661