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Title: Chap-books of the Eighteenth Century - With Facsimiles, Notes, and Introduction
Author: Ashton, John
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Chap-books of the Eighteenth Century - With Facsimiles, Notes, and Introduction" ***

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[Illustration: A CHAPMAN.

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











  _All rights reserved_



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

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 13_s._ 6_d._, 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.



  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



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. Emp[=ry]ted at
L[=o]don 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.



  Joseph and his Brethren,


  _Jacob's Journey into Egypt_,









  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.



  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.          }


  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.



  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.   }



  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.



  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.



  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.


  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.


  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.



  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[1]
  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.

    [Footnote 1: Here seems a line missing.]



  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 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.




  =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.








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.





  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.




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.




_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.


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


  _Who, for Thirty Pieces of Silver betrayed his Lord and



    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.


  _A Short RELATION of the Sufferings of Our

  Also the Life and miserable Death of


  Who condemn'd the Lord of Life to Death.

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


_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.





  =Or, a Seasonable Warning to all


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.



  =Witch of the Woodlands;=



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



  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.





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,[2] 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

    [Footnote 2: 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--Rox. II.
    235 and (643 m. 10,)/55. the date of both being attributed



  =Dr. John Faustus,=


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



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






CHAP. 1.


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.


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.


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

[Illustration: 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.


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.


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.


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.


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.



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.


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 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.



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 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'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.





  Of the Learned




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 xvij^s ii^d."
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.


=Timely Warning=

_To Rash and Disobedient_


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.





  =Perjured Bride justly rewarded;=






  _German's Wife and Young Bateman_.



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


    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.


    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.


    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.


    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.


    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.


    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.


    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.


=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.



  A wonderful and Strange


  OF A



  _St. Bartholomew's Hospital, London_;


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.


  _The Greatest Light to Sinners_

  Occasioned and Explain'd by the late





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.



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=


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.





_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


_A Dreadful Warning_



    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




_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.



=A Full, True and Particular=


_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_.



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.




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


    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

    3. Of her selling herself to the Devil to be revenged on the

    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.

    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.


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."



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.



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."


=Wonder of Wonders=


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.



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.




  _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._





  =Old Egyptian Fortune-Teller's
  Last Legacy=


    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.



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.



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

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



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

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

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

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

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."




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.






  =Mother Bunch of the West=


  Many Rarities out of her Golden
  Closet of Curiosities.





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

"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."



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









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.


"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.


"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.


"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.


"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."






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




  _Several Instances wherein it has been


  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.


[Illustration: 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 3_d._" (1714).


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[3] 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_.

    [Footnote 3: "German Novelists," vol. i.]






CHAP. 1.



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 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.


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.


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 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.


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.


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.


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.


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.



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, s[=on]es 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.



  =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.



CHAP. 1.


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.


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


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.


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

CHAP. 4.


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


"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.


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, 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

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.



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

  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.



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




  _Various Surprising Adventures_.


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



CHAP. 1.


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


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.


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


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

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


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.


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.


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.


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


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.


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.


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 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 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




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. 4_b_) of Guy as a

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.




  =Guy.  Earl of Warwick=



CHAP. 1.



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

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

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 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.


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


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.



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

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

CHAP. 5.


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

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.


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

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.


  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.








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












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

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

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."




  =St. George=





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
/ Th[=en]e dyd the kyng doo[4] 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 /"

    [Footnote 4: 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

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

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

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."


  "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."[5] 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."[6] 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.

    [Footnote 5: "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.]

    [Footnote 6: Of this play only two copies are known.]









CHAP. 1.


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.



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:


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

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


CHAP. 3.


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.



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.


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.


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

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


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.


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.


  The Pleasant and Delightful










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.






  JACK and the GIANTS







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.[7]

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

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.[8] 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

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.

    [Footnote 7: 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

    [Footnote 8: 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

  A pleasant and delightful



  =Thomas Hickathrift=



  _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








CHAP. 1.


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.



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

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

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'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

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

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.


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


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.



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.



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


  _Wherein is declared_,

  =His Marvellous Acts of Manhood=





  "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."


[Illustration: [9]]

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."

    [Footnote 9: 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[10] 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.

    [Footnote 10: 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."

[Illustration] 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

  =The Shoemaker's Glory=






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.





  _Or, The Princely History of the_



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.



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

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




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

"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





  _Being the Pleasant and Delightful_









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 Ph[oe]nix, 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 Ph[oe]nix 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
Ph[oe]nix through the right arm. He doctored Lord Ph[oe]nix, 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 Ph[oe]nix 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 Ph[oe]nix 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."




  KING and the COBLER




"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.


[Illustration: [11]]

    [Footnote 11: 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

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


[Illustration: [12]]

    [Footnote 12: 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



  _Young PIPERS pleasant Pastime_


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






  _Young PIPER'S_



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




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."


[Illustration: [13]]

    [Footnote 13: 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

  "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_



  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



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

  "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.





  Son in Law to Mother Winter


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






  =Tom Tram=

  _Son in Law to Mother Winter_


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




"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.


  =Birth, Life, and Death=



  _With the Pranks he played
  Though a meer Fool_



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.


"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

"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


"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."



  =Wife Margery's Cruelty=


  _The very next Morning after their



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."




  TOM LONG the Carrier



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.











  _Illustrated with Twelve curious Cuts
  Truly adapted to each Story_




  "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.

[Illustration: THE OX TURNED FARMER.]





[Illustration: THE OX TURNED BUTCHER.]






  A Strange and Wonderful






  A Fortnight ago.



  A little after her Death.




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.


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.


  =Merry Tales=






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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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


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.


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

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

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

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![14] 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.

    [Footnote 14: 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







  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_.




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--

            WHO WAS

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

* "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

"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

"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

"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."





  OR A




  Of Merry Books this is the Chief,
    'Tis as a purging Pill;
  To carry off all heavy Grief
    And make you laugh your Fill


  Question. 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._

  Q.  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._

  Q. 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._

  Q. 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._

  Q. 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._

  Q. 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._

  Q. 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._

  Q. 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._

  Q. To the green wood
     Full oft it hath gang'd,
     Yet yields us no good
     Till decently hang'd.


A. _It is a hog fattened with Acorns, which makes good bacon when
hanged a drying._

  Q. Rich, yellow, and bright,
     Long, slender and white,
     Both one in another there are;
     Now tell unto me,
     What this Riddle may be,
     Then will I your wisdom declare.


A. _A Diamond ring on a Lady's finger._

  Q. A Visage fair
     And voice is rare,
     Affording pleasant charms;
     Which is with us
     Most ominous
     Presaging future harms.


A. _A Mermaid, which betokens destruction to Mariners._

  Q. To ease men of their care
     I do both rend and tear
     Their mother's bowels still;
     Yet tho' I do,
     There are but few
     That seem to take it ill.


A. _'Tis a Plough which breaks up the bowels of the Earth for the
sowing of Corn._

  Q. By sparks in lawn fine
     I am lustily drawn,
     But not in a chariot or Coach;
     I fly, in a word,
     More swift than a bird,
     That does the green forest approach.


A. _An Arrow drawn in a Bow by a Gentleman Archer._

  Q. By the help of a guide
     I often divide
     What once in a green forest stood;
     Behold me, tho' I
     Have got but one eye,
     When that is stopt I do the most good.


A. _A Hatchet, with which they cleave Wood; till the Eye is stopped
with the Haft, it cannot perform business._

  Q. My back is broad, my belly is thin,
     And I am sent to pleasure youth;
     Where mortal man has never been
     Tho' strange it is a naked truth.


A. _A Paper Kite which mounts the lofty air._






  =Wit Newly Reviv'd=



  Adorned with Variety of


  New Riddles make both Wit and Mirth,
  The Price of a Penny, yet not half the Worth.

  By S. M.


  Q. Tho' it be cold I wear no cloaths,
     The frost and snow I never fear,
     I value neither shoes nor hose,
     And yet I wander far and near;
     Both meat and drink are always free,
     I drink no cyder, mum, nor beer,
     What Providence doth send to me
     I neither buy, nor sell, nor lack.


A. _A Herring swimming in the Sea._]

  Q. Once hairy scenter did transgress,
     Whose dame, both powerful and fierce,
     Tho' hairy scenter took delight
     To do the thing both fair and right,
     Upon a Sabbath day.


A. _An old Woman whipping her Cat for Catching Mice on a Sunday._

  Q. Promotion lately was bestow'd
     Upon a person mean and small;
     Then many persons to him flow'd,
     Yet he return'd no thanks at all;
     But yet their hands were ready still
     To help him with their kind good will.


A. _It is a Man pelted in the Pillory._

  Q. There was a sight near Charing Cross,
     A creature almost like a horse;
     But when I came the beast to see,
     The head was where the Tail should be.


A. _A Mare tied with her tail to the Manger._

  Q. As I walked thro' the street,
     It was near twelve o'clock at night;
     Two all in black I chanc'd to meet,
     Their eyes like flaming fire bright.
     They passed by, and nothing said,
     Therefore I was not much afraid.


A. _Two long lighted Links carried along the street._

  Q. Three men near the flowing Thames,
     Much pains and labour they did take
     They did both scratch and claw their wems,
     Until their very hearts did ache.
     It is as true as e'er was told,
     Therefore this riddle now unfold.


A. _Three Fidlers in Thames Street, who played up a bridegroom in the
Morning, who gave them nothing to drink._

  Q. There is a steeple standing fair,
     'Tis built upon a rock of care,
     Therein a noise both fierce and shrill,
     Tho' here was neither clock nor bell.


A. _An old woman scolding in a high crown'd Hat._

  Q. My weapon is exceeding keen,
     Of which I think I well may boast,
     And I'll encounter Colonel Green
     Together with his mighty host.
     With me they could not then compare,
     I conquer them both great and small,
     Tho' thousands stood before me there
     I stood and got no harm at all.


A. _A Man mowing of Grass with a Scyth, which took all before it._

  Q. I saw five birds all in a cage,
     Each bird had but one single wing,
     They were an hundred years of age,
     And yet did fly and sweetly sing.
     The wonder did my mind possess,
     When I beheld their age and strength;
     Besides, as near as I can guess,--
     Their tails were thirty feet in length.


A. _A Peel of Bells in a Steeple._

  _The whole Trial and Indictment of_


    _A Person of noble Birth and Extraction and well known by
    Rich and Poor throughout the Kingdom of Great Britain; Being
    accused of several Misdemeanours, by him committed against his
    Majesty's Liege People; by killing some, wounding others, and
    bringing Thousands to Beggary, and ruins many a poor family._

Here you have the substance of the Evidence given in against him on
his Trial; with the Names of the Judges, Jury and Witnesses. Also the
comical Defence Sir John makes for himself, and the Character given
him by some of his Neighbours, namely Hewson the Cobler, an honest
Friend of Sir John's, who is entomb'd as a Memorandum, at the Two
Brewers in East Smithfield.

_Taken in Short Hand by Thomas Tosspot, Foreman of the Jury._




  Arraigning and Indicting



  _Newly Composed_




This Chap-book not only contains the following ballad, but sets forth
the offences of which Sir John is guilty, and witnesses are called to
prove them. They consist principally of his making people quarrelsome,
etc. For the defence it is asserted that "there is not such another
in the land that can do what he can and hath done for he can make a
cripple to go, he can make a coward to fight with a valiant soldier;
nay he can make a good soldier to feel neither hunger or cold." It is
needless to say he is triumphantly acquitted.



"_To the Tune of Old Sir John Barleycorn, Or Jack of all Trades._

  "All you that be good fellows,
     Come listen unto me,
  If that you love the alehouse
     And merry company.

  "Attend unto my story,
     It makes my heart full sorry,
  Which I fear is too true
     And many doth it rue.

  "'Tis of a gallant noble Knight,
    Which many know full well,
  An honest man, I witness can,
    If I the truth may tell.

  "His name is Sir John Barleycorn,
    Who makes both beer and bread,
  What would do all that now are born,
    If Barleycorn was dead?

  "For as I abroad did walk,
    I heard a piteous cry,
  And many a man did talk
    That Barleycorn must die,

  "His enemies increase so fast,
    At board, and eke at bed,
  I fear their malice will not cease,
    Till they cut off his head.

  "For Smut the honest blacksmith,
    With many tradesmen more;
  And Snip the nimble Taylor,
    Doth vow that he shall die.

  "And Will the Weaver doth complain,
    With many thousands more;
  I hope their labour is in vain,
    Therefore they may give o'er.

  "Yet now awhile give ear,
    You that are standers by,
  And you presently shall hear
    Sir John condemned to die.

  "All you that love poor Barleycorn,
    A good word for him give,
  And he that speaks against him,
    I wish he may not live."

The foregoing is nothing like so witty, or funny, as the Black-Letter
ballad. A copy is in the British Museum (Rox. i. 343), which, although
it has been reprinted, is not generally known, and is too good to

  "A pleasant new Ballad to Sing both Even and Morne,
  Of the bloody Murther of Sir John Barleycorne.

"To the tune of _Shall I lye beyond thee_.

  "As I went through the North Countrey,
    I heard a merry greeting,
  A pleasant toy, and full of joy,
    two noble men were meeting.

  "And as they walked for to sport,
    vpon a Sommers day,
  Then with another noble man
    they went to make a fray.

  "Whose name was sir John Barleycorne
    he dwelt down in a dale;
  Who had a kinsman dwelt him nigh
    they cal'd him Thomas Goodale.

  "Another named Richard Beere,
    was ready at that time;
  Another worthy Knight was there,
    call'd sir William White Wine.

  "Some of them fought in a blacke Jacke,
    some of them in a Can;
  But the chiefest in a blacke pot,
    like a worthy noble man.

  "Sir John Barleycorne fought in a Boule
    who wonne the victorie;
  And made them all to fume and sweare
    that Barleycorne should die.

  "Some said kill him, some said drowne,
    others wisht to hang him hie;
  For as many as follow Barleycorne
    shall surely beggers die.

  "Then with a plough they plowed him vp
    and thus they did deuise,
  To burie him quicke within the earth
    and swore he should not rise.

  "With horrowes strong they combed him
    and burst clods on his head:
  A joyfull banquet then was made,
    when Barleycorne was dead.

  "He rested still within the earth
    till raine from skies did fall
  Then he grew vp in branches greene,
    which sore amazed them all.

  "And so grew vp till Midsommer,
    which made them all afeard;
  For he was sprouted vp on hie
    and got a goodly beard.

  "Then he grew till S. James tide
    his countenance was wan,
  For he was growne vnto his strength,
    and thus became a man.

  "With hookes and sickles keene,
    into the field they hide,
  They cut his legs off by the knees,
    and made him wounds full wide.

  "Thus bloodily they cut him downe
    from place where he did stand,
  And like a thiefe for treachery,
    they bound him in a band.

  "So then they tooke him vp againe
    according to his kind;
  And packt him vp in seuerall stackes
    to wither with the wind.

  "And with a pitchfork that was sharpe,
    they rent him to the heart,
  And like a thiefe for treason vile
    they bound him in a cart.

  "And tending him with weapons strong,
    vnto the towne they hie,
  And straight they mowed him in a mow
    and there they let him lie.

  "Then he lay groaning by the wals,
    till all his wounds were sore;
  At length they took him vp againe
    and cast him on the floore.

  "They hyred two with holly clubs,
    to beat on him at once,
  They thwacked so on Barlycorne
    that flesh fell from the bones.

  "And then they tooke him vp againe
    to fulfill womens mind
  They dusted and they sifted him,
    till he was almost blind.

  "And then they knit him in a sacke
    which grieued him full sore;
  They steep'd him in a Fat, God wot,
    for three dayes space and more,

  "Then they tooke him vp againe,
    and laid him for to drie,
  They cast him on a chamber floore,
    and swore that he should die.

  "They rubbed and they stirred him
    and still they did him turne,
  The Malt man swore that he should die
    his body he would burne.

  "They spightfully tooke him vp againe
    And threw him on a kill:
  So dried him then with fire hot,
    and thus they wraught their will.

  "Then they brought him to the mill,
    and there they burst his bones,
  The Miller swore to murther him
    betwixt a pair of Stones.

  "Then they tooke him vp againe,
    and seru'd him worse than that
  For with hot scalding liquor score
    they washt him in a Fat.

  "But not content with this, God wot,
    that did him mickle harme,
  With threatning words they promised
    to beat him into barme

  "And lying in this danger deep
    for feare that he should quarrell,
  They took him straight out of the fat
    and tunn'd him in a barrell.

  "And then they set a tap to him,
    euen thus his death begun;
  They drew out euery drain of blood,
    whilst any drop would run,

  "Some brought iacks vpon their backs
    some brought bill and bow,
  And euery man his weapon had,
    Barlycorne to overthrow.

  "When sir John Goodale heard of this
    he came with mickle might
  And there he took their tongues away,
    their legs or else their sight.

  "And thus sir John in each respect
    so paid them all their hire,
  That some lay sleeping by the way
    some tumbling in the mire--

  "Some lay groning by the wals,
    some in the streets down right,
  The best of them did scarcely know
    what they had done ore night.

  "All you good wiues that brew good ale
    God turne from you all teen,
  But if you put too much water in
    the devill put out your eyne.

    [Footnote 15: This ballad, which is circa 1640, was stolen
    wholesale by Robert Burns, as an examination of "John
    Barleycorn" will prove.]




There can be very little doubt but that this virago was a living
being, for the first edition known of her "Life and Pranks"--which
was published in 1582, and which differs materially from the Chap-book
version--bears internal evidence of her reality; and she must have
lived in the reign of Henry VIII., for, in chapter ii. she finds, on
her arrival in London, her mistress drinking with Doctor Skelton
(poet laureate, who died 1529), Will Summers the King's Jester, and a
Spanish knight called Sir James of Castille. As the 1582 edition does
not mention her death, she might then have been alive. The Chap-book
version says, "After marriage she kept a house at Islington." This may
have been true, but she also seems to have had one on the Southwark
side of the river, for a scarce tract, called "Holland's leaguer,"
etc. (London, 1632), says, "It was out of the _Citie_ yet in the view
of the _Citie_ only divided by a delicate _River_: there was many
handsome buildings, and many hearty neighbours, yet at the first
foundation, it was renowned for nothing so much as for the memory of
that famous Amazon, _Longa Margarita_, who had there for many years
kept a famous _infamous_ house of open Hospitality," and on the tract
is a woodcut of the house. That she was well known, appears in an old
book, "Pierces Supererogation, on a new prayse of the Olde Asse," by
Gabriell Harvey, 1593, p. 145: "Phy, Long Megg of Westminster would
have been ashamed to disgrace her Sonday bonet with her Satterday
witt. She knew some rules of Decorum; and although she were a lustie
bounsing rampe, somewhat like Gallemella or maide Marian, yet was she
not such a roinish rannell, or such a dissolute gillian-flurtes, as
this wainscot-faced Tomboy.'

It is probable from this, as speaking of her in the past tense, that
she was then dead, and this is the more likely, as there is an entry
in the curious diary of Philip Henslowe, proprietor of the Rose
Theatre near Bankside, Southwark, relating to her. He kept a register
of all the plays performed by the servants of Lord Strange and the
Lord Admiral, and by other companies, between February 19, 1591-2, and
November 5, 1597. Against each entry was put the sum he received as
a proprietor from either a part or the whole of the galleries; so we
read, "R the 14 of febreary 1594, at long mege of westmester (18[16])
_l._iii. _s._ix. _d._o." It was performed at the theatre at Newington
Butts, which Howes, in his continuation of Stowe's "Chronicles"
(1631), mentions as having been there "in former time." By whom it
was acted seems uncertain, as the heading reads, "_In the name of God,
Amen, beginning at_ newington _my_ lord admirell men, _and_ my lord
chamberlen men, as followeth, 1594."

It is a singular coincidence that on this very February 14, 1594,
the Registers of the Stationers' Company should have an entry: "xiiij
Febr. John Danter. Entred for his Copie &c. a ballad entituled The mad
merye pranckes of Long Megg of Westm(inster) ... vj^_d_."

That the play was popular, is evidenced by the fact that in N. Field's
play, "Amends for Ladies" (1618), Meg is not only mentioned, but the
play is spoken of by Fee simple: "Faith, I have a good mind to see
Long Meg and the Ship at the Fortune."

    [Footnote 16: This shows how popular the play was, as it notes
    it had the long run of eighteen representations.]


  =Life and Death=







CHAP. 1.


In the reign of Henry VIII. was born in Lancashire, a maid called LONG
MEG. At eighteen years old she came to London to get her a service;
Father Willis the Carrier being the Waggoner, and her neighbour,
brought her up with some other lasses. After a tedious journey, being
in sight of the desired city, she demanded why they looked sad? We
have no money said one, to pay our fare. So Meg replies, If that be
all, I shall answer your demands, and this put them in some comfort.
But as soon as they came to St. John's Street, Willis demanded their
money. Say what you will have, quoth she. Ten shillings a piece, said
he. But we have not so much about us, said she.--Nay, then I will have
it out of your bones.--Marry, content, replied Meg; and taking a staff
in her hand, so belaboured him and his man, that he desired her for
God's sake to hold her hand.--Not I, said she, unless you bestow an
angel on us for good luck, and swear e'er we depart to get us good

The Carrier having felt the strength of her arm, thought it best to
give her the money, and promised not to go till he had got them good

CHAP. 2.


The Carrier having set up his horses, went with the lasses to the
Eagle in Westminster, and told the landlady he had brought her three
fine Lancashire lasses, and seeing she often asked him to get her a
maid, she might now take her choice. Marry, said she I want one
at present, and here are three gentlemen who shall give their
opinions--As soon as Meg came in, they blessed themselves, crying

  Domine, Domine, viee Originem.[17]

So her mistress demanded what was her name; Margaret, forsooth, said
she briskly--And what work can you do? She answered she had not been
bred unto her needle, but to hard labour, as washing, brewing, and
baking, and could make a house clean--Thou art, quoth the hostess, a
lusty wench, and I like thee well, for I have often persons that will
not pay--Mistress, said she, if any such come let me know, and I'll
make them pay, I'll engage.--Nay, this is true, said the Carrier, for
my carcase felt it; and then he told them how she served him--On this
Sir John de Castile, in a bravado, would needs make an experiment of
her vast strength; and asked her, If she durst exchange a box o' the
ear with him. Yes, quoth she, if my mistress will give me leave. This
granted, she stood to receive Sir John's blow, who gave her a box with
all his might, but it stirred her not at all; but Meg gave him such
a memorandum on his ear that Sir John fell down at her feet.--By
my faith, said another, she strikes a blow like an ox, for she hath
knocked down an Ass.--So Meg was taken into Service.


    [Footnote 17: In the 1582 edition the passage runs, "As soon as
    they saw long Meg they began to smile, and Dr. Skelton in his
    mad merry vain blessing himself began thus,

  Domine, Domine, Vid: Origin."

CHAP. 3.


Meg so bestirred herself, she pleased her mistress, and for her
tallness was called Long Meg of Westminster.

One of the lubbers of the Abbey had a mind to try her strength, so
coming with Six of his associates one frosty morning calls for a
pot of Ale, which being drank, he asked what he owed? To which Meg
answers, Five Shillings and Threepence.


O thou foul scullion, I owe thee but three shillings and one penny,
and no more will I pay thee. And turning to his landlady, complained
how Meg had charged him too much. The foul ill take me, quoth Meg, if
I misreckon him one penny, and therefore, Vicar, before thou goest
out of these doors, I shall make thee pay every penny; and then she
immediately lent him such a box on the ears, as made him reel again.
The Vicar then steps up to her, and together both of them went by the
ears.--The Vicars head was broke, and Megs Cloaths torn off her back.
So the Vicar laid hold of her hair, but he being shaved she could not
have that advantage; so laying hold of his ears, and keeping his pate
to the post, asked him how much he owed her? As much as you please
said he.--So you knave, quoth she, I must knock out of your bald pate
my reckoning. And with that she began to beat a plain song between the
post and his pate. But when he felt such pain, he roared out he would
pay the whole--But she would not let him go, until he laid it down,
which he did, being jeered by his friends.

CHAP. 4.


All this time Sir James continued his suit to Meg's mistress but to
no purpose. So coming in one day and seeing her melancholy, asked what
ailed her? for if any one has wronged you I will requite you--Marry,
quoth she, a base knave in a white sattin doublet has abused me, and
if you revenge my quarrel, I shall think you love me--Where is he?
quoth Sir James.--Marry--said she, he said he would be in St. George's
Fields--Well, quoth he, do you and the Doctor go along with me, and
you shall see how I'll pumel the knave.

Unto this they agreed, and sent Meg into St. George's Fields
beforehand. Yonder, said she, walks the fellow by the windmill. Follow
me, hostess, said Sir James, I will go to him. But Meg passed as if
she would have gone by. Nay, stay, said Sir James, you and I part not
so; I am this gentlewoman's champion, and fairly for her sake will
have you by the ears--With that Meg drew her sword, and to it they

At the first blow she hit him on the head, and often endangered
him--At last she struck his weapon out of his hands, and stepping up
to him, swore all the world should not save him--O, save me, Sir,
said he, I am a Knight and it is but a woman's matter; do not spill
my blood. Wer't thou twenty Knights, said Meg, and was the King
here himself, I would not spare thy life, unless you grant me one
thing--Let it be what it will, you shall be obeyed--Marry, said
she, that this night you wait on my plate at this woman's house, and
confess me to be your master.

This being yielded to, and a supper provided, Thomas Usher and others
was invited to make up the feast; and unto whom Sir James told
what had happened.--Pho! said Usher, jeeringly, it is no such great
dishonour for to be foiled by an English gentleman, since Cæsar the
Great was himself driven back by their extraordinary courage. At this
juncture, Meg came in, having got on her man's attire. Then said
Sir James, This is that valiant gentleman whose courage I shall ever
esteem. Hereupon she pulling off her hat, her hair fell about her
ears, and she said I am no other than Long Meg of Westminster; and so
you are heartily welcome.

At this they all fell a laughing, nevertheless at supper time,
according to agreement, Sir James was a proper page; and she, having
leave of her mistress, sat in state like her Majesty--Thus Sir James
was disgraced for his love, and Meg was counted a proper woman.

CHAP. 5.


A Bailiff having for the purpose took forty shillings, arrested a
gentleman in Meg's mistress's house, and desired the company to keep
peace. She, coming in, asked what was the matter? O, said he, I'm
arrested. Arrested! and in our house! Why this unkind act to arrest
one in our house; but, however take an Angel, and let him go. No, said
the Bailiff, I cannot, for the creditor is at the door. Bid him come
in said she, and I'll make up the matter. So the creditor came in: but
being found obstinate she rapped him on the head with a quart pot, and
bid him go out of doors like a knave; he can but go to prison, quoth
she, where he shall not stay long, if all the friends I have can fetch
him out.

The creditor went away with a good knock, and the Bailiff was going
with his prisoner. Nay, said she, I'll bring a fresh pot to drink with
him. She came into the parlour with a rope, and knitting her brows,
Sir Knave, said she, I'll learn thee to arrest a man in our house,
I'll make thee a spectacle for all catchpoles; and tossing the
rope round his middle, said to the gentleman, Sir, away, shift for
yourself, I'll pay the bailiff his fees before he and I part. Then she
dragged the bailiff unto the back side of the house, making him go up
to his chin in a pond, and then paid him his fees with a cudgel; after
which he went away with the amends in his hands; for she was so well
beloved that no person would meddle with her.

CHAP. 6.



Now it happened she once put on a suit of man's apparel. The same
night it fell out, that a young nobleman being disposed for mirth,
would go abroad to see the fashions, and coming down the Strand,
espies her, and seeing such a tall fellow, asked him whither he was
going? Marry, said she, to St. Nicholas's to buy a calve's head. How
much money hast thou? In faith, said she, little enough, will you
lend me any?--Aye, said he, and putting his thumb into her mouth,
said--There's a tester. She gave him a good box on the ear, and said,
There's a groat, now I owe you twopence. Whereupon the Nobleman drew,
and his man too; and she was as active as they, so together they go;
but she drove them before her into a little Chandler's shop, insomuch
that the Constable came in to part the fray, and, having asked what
they were, the nobleman told his name, at which they all pulled off
their caps--And what is your name? said the Constable. Mine, said she
is Cuthbert Curry Knave--Upon this the constable commanded some to lay
hold on her, and carry her to the Compter. She out with her sword and
set upon the watch, and behaved very resolutely; but the constable
calling for clubs, Meg was forced to cry out, Masters, hold your
hands, I am your friend, hurt not Long Meg of Westminster--So they all
staid their hands, and the nobleman took them all to the tavern; and
thus ended the fray.

CHAP. 7.


Not only the cities of London and Westminster, but Lancashire also,
rung of Meg's fame: so they desired old Willis the Carrier to call
upon her, which he did, taking with him the other lasses. Meg was
joyful to see them, and it being Shrove Tuesday, Meg went with them to
Knightsbridge, and there spent most of the day, with repeating tales
of their friends in Lancashire, and so tarried the Carrier, who again
and again enquired how all did there; and made the time seem shorter
than it was. The Night growing on, the carrier and the two other
lasses were importunate to be gone, but Meg was loath to set out, and
so stayed behind to discharge the reckoning, and promised to overtake

It was their misfortune at St. James's Corner to meet with two thieves
who were waiting there for them and took an hundred marks from Willis
the Carrier, and from the two wenches their gowns and purses.--Meg
came up immediately after, and then the thieves, seeing her also in a
female habit, thought to take her purse also; but she behaved herself
so well that they began to give ground. Then said Meg, Our gowns and
purses against your hundred marks; win all and wear all. Content,
quoth they.--Now, lasses, pray for me, said Meg--With that she buckled
with these two knaves, beat one and so hurt the other, that
they entreated her to spare their lives--I will, said she, upon
conditions.--Upon any condition, said they--Then, said she, it shall
be thus: 1. That you never hurt a woman, nor any company she is in.

  2. That you never hurt lame or impotent men.
  3. That you never hurt any Children or innocents.
  4. That you rob no carrier of his money.
  5. That you rob no manner of poor or distressed.

Are you content with these conditions? We are, said they. I have no
book about me, said she, but will you swear on my smock tail? which
they accordingly did, and then she returned the wenches their gowns
and purses, and old Father Willis the Carrier an hundred marks.

The men desiring to know who it was had so lustily be-swinged them,
said, To alleviate our sorrow pray tell us your name? She smiling,
replied, If any one asks you who banged your bones, say Long Meg of
Westminster once met with you.

CHAP. 8.


In those days were wars between England and France, and a hot press
about London. The Constables of Westminster pressed Meg's fellow
servant and she told them if they took him her mistress was undone.

All this could not persuade the Constable, but Harry must go, on which
she lent the Constable a knock--Notice being given to the Captain, he
asked who struck him--Marry, quoth Meg, I did, and if I did not love
soldiers, I'd serve you so too. So taking a Cavalier from a mans hand,
she performed the exercise with such dexterity, that they wondered;
whereupon she said, Press no man, but give me press money, and I
will go myself. At this they all laughed, and the Captain gave her an
Angel. Whereupon she went with him to Bologne.

CHAP. 9.


King Henry passing the seas took Bologne; hereupon the Dauphin with a
great number of men surprised and retook it. Meg being a Laundress
in the town, raised the best of the women, and with a halberd in her
hand, came to the walls, on which some of the French had entered, and
threw scalding water and stones at them, that she often obliged them
to quit the town before the soldiers were up in arms--And at the sally
she came out the foremost with her halberd in her hand to pursue the

The report of this deed being come to the ears of the King, he allowed
her for life, eight pence a day.

CHAP. 10.


During this, she observed one who in a bravado tossed his pike; she
seeing his pride, desired a drum, to signify that a young soldier
would have a push at pike with him. It was agreed on, and the place
appointed, life against life.

On the day the Frenchman came, and Meg met him, and without any salute
fell to blows; and, after a long combat, she overcame him, and cut off
his head. Then pulling off her hat her hair fell about her ears.

By this the Frenchman knew it was a woman, and the English giving a
shout, she by a Drummer sent the Dauphin his soldier's head, and said,
An English Woman sent it.

The Dauphin much commended her, sending her an hundred crowns for her

CHAP. 11.


The Wars in France being over, Meg came to Westminster, and married a
soldier, who, hearing of her exploits, took her into a room and making
her strip to her petticoat, took one staff, and gave her another,
saying, As he had heard of her manhood, he was determined to try
her--But Meg held down her head, whereupon he gave her three or four
blows, and she in submission fell down upon her knees desiring him to
pardon her--For, said she, whatever I do to others, it behoves me to
be obedient to you; and it shall never be said, If I cudgel a knave
that injures me, Long Meg is her husband's master; and therefore use
me as you please--So they grew friends, and never quarrelled after.

CHAP. 12.


Meg going one day with her neighbours to make merry, a miller near
Epping looking out, the boy they had with them about fourteen years
old, said, Put out, miller, put out.--What must I put out? said he.--A
thief's head and ears, said the other.

At this the Miller came down and well licked him, which Meg
endeavoured to prevent, whereupon he beat her; but she wrung the stick
from him, and then cudgelled him severely; and having done, sent the
boy to the Mill for an empty sack, and put the Miller in, all but his
head; and then fastening him to a rope she hawled him up half way, and
there left him hanging. The poor Miller cried out for help, and if his
wife had not come he had surely been killed, and the mill, for want of
corn, set on fire.

CHAP. 13.


After Marriage she kept a house at Islington. The Constable coming one
night, he would needs search Meg's house, whereupon she come down in
her shift with a cudgel, and said, Mr. Constable take care you go
not beyond your Commission, for if you do, I'll so cudgel you, as you
never was since Islington has been.--The Constable seeing her frown,
told her he would take her word, and so departed.

Meg, because in her house there should be a good decorum, hung up a
table containing these principles; First--If a Gentleman or Yeoman had
a charge about him, and told her of it, she would repay him if he lost
it, but if he did not reveal it, and said he was robbed, he should
have ten bastinadoes, and afterwards be turned out of doors.

Secondly, whoever called for meat and had no money to pay, should have
a box on the ear, and a cross on the back that he might be marked and
trusted no more.

Thirdly. If any good fellow came in, and said he wanted money, he
should have his belly full of meat and two pots of drink.

Fourthly. If any rafler came in, and made a quarrel, and would not
pay his reckoning, to turn into the fields and take a bout or two with
Meg, the maids of the house should dry beat him, and so thrust him out
of doors.

These and many such principles, she established in her house, which
kept it still and quiet.




  _Comical Cheats_




  And the Merry Pranks of




Nowadays, Swalpo would have made a fortune as a prestidigitateur, for
his was the high art of pocket-picking, and people used to employ
him to show his talents for their amusement, even after he had become
virtuous, and steward to a nobleman. The frontispiece represents him
meeting with a countryman at Bartholomew Fair, and cautioning him
against pickpockets. The countryman tells him he has a broad piece,
which he puts in his mouth. Swalpo instructs a confederate boy, who
tumbles and falls down in front of the countryman, scattering a lot of
change, which he held in his hand. The people round about help to pick
up the money, and the boy declares he has got it all except a broad
piece of gold. Swalpo then comes up, and says he saw the countryman
put it in his mouth; it is discovered, and the countryman gets as
badly used as a "welsher" at a race meeting.

The next engraving shows how "Swalpo steals a fine Coat from a
Nobleman's back."

"The whole Company being greatly pleased with the ingenuity of the
last trick, Swalpo said, Alas, gentlemen, this trick is not worth
talking of, such as this, we send our boys about. There is now a
Nobleman going by the door, I will wager a guinea I steal his coat
from off his back before all his followers. The gentlemen staked each
their guinea, and Roger and Swalpo covered them as before. Then out
went Swalpo, and dogged the Nobleman to a tavern; as soon as he was
conducted upstairs, Swalpo went to the barkeeper, and desired to
borrow an apron for the Nobleman his master would only be served by
himself; he ran so nimbly, and did everything so handily, that the
Company were mightily pleased with him, taking him for a servant to
the house; he never came into the room but he passed some merry jest,
and when they spoke to him, his answers pleased them all mightily.

"When he found them in a good humour, he resolved not to trifle,
wherefore as he waited behind the Lord's chair he took out his knife,
and made a slit in the back seam of his coat, and ran downstairs for
more liquor, when he returned, as soon as he came near his Lordship he
started back, asking what taylor made that coat, which would not hold
one day? Some of the Company rising and seeing the slash, said the
taylor had affronted my Lord--Said he I paid him his price, and he
shall hear of it--My Lord, said Swalpo, it is only the end of a thread
has slipt, such things often happen; there is a fine drawer of my
acquaintance lives in the next street, if your Lordship pleases, I
will convey it under my master's cloak, and return immediately. The
Nobleman borrows a great coat of one of the Company, and gave it unto
Swalpo, who immediately came down to the vintner, and told him what
had happened, and to prevent its being seen in the streets, desires
him to lend him his Cloak. The Vintner shewed him where it was, which
Swalpo put on, as also a hat which hung on the next pin; thus he walks
off with them, and coming to the tavern at which the gentlemen waited,
he went into a room, changed his cloaths, then returns and salutes
them. Says one, Instead of a coat you come in a cloak; so then opening
the cloak they were surprised to see the rich embroidered Coat. Then
Roger laughed heartily; but when he told them how he had performed it,
they all burst into a great laughter."


Space will only admit of one more story of his dexterity in picking
pockets after notice given:--

"The Nobleman hearing of his dexterity in taking watches desired him
to do it. Swalpo bid the Nobleman be on his guard; so he walked up and
down the room as did also Swalpo. While the Lord was disputing warmly
with some of the Company, Swalpo who watched his opportunity, gently
tickles the Lord with a feather under the right ear; which makes him
on a sudden quit the watch to scratch himself, and clapping his hand
to his fob again, he found it gone. He looks behind him, and sees
Swalpo with the watch in his hand, bowing, which occasioned much



  =Life and Death=




  _Son of Shon ap Morgan_



There are several editions of this book, and parts of it are amusing.

Sheffery was the son of a small farmer, and received some slight
education. His father sent him to the university, where he wasted his
time, and learnt nothing; but his father, considering his studies were
sufficient and complete, got the promise of a living from the bishop,
provided Sheffery could preach a sermon he could approve of. The
day came and he knew nothing that he should say--in fact, he had not
brains enough to compose a sermon--but "Sheffery no sooner enters the
church, but he steps into the pulpit, and so begun as followeth. 'Good
people, all hur knows, there's something expected from hur by way
of Discourse, and seeing we are all met together, take the following
matter as an undeniable truth; There are some things that I know and
you know not, and there are some things that neither you nor I know;
For thus, as I went over a stile, I tore my breeches; that I know,
and you know not; but what you'll give me towards the mending of them,
that you know and I know not; but what the knave the taylor will have
for mending them, that neither you nor I know.'"

This sermon did not gain Sheffery his proposed living, so he started
for London to seek his fortune. On the road, he joined two Welsh
drovers, who asked him to help them and they would share with him the
shilling they were to receive. "At last they came to Smithfield where
the owner gave them a whole shilling, then was their care to part this
one piece equally amongst three; Sheffery being ingenious said, 'We'll
go change it for three groats:' to which they consented: So going from
street to street, at last they came to Lombard Street, where Sheffery
spies a tray full of groats, and cry'd Here, hur will do it, if ever.
The gentleman of the shop being at dinner, the hatch was shut, and
nobody in the shop but an old jackanapes chained, upon the cáunter;
Sheffery leaning over the hatch said 'Good sir, will you give hur
three groats for a shilling?' and held the shilling forth, which the
jackanapes took, and put it down into the place where he used to see
his master put money, and minded Sheffery no more; but hur was very
urgent with the jackanapes for hur change; and said 'Good Sir, what
does hur intent to do? Will hur give her three groats for a shilling
or no; But the jackanapes not minding, stirred hur Welsh blood up,
fearing that the old shentleman was minded to sheat them, which caus'd
a great croud about the door, so that the gentleman of the house heard
them, and coming into the shop to see what was the matter, began to
be rough with them, doubting they intended to rob his shop; but they
cried out, that they were poor Welshmen that thought no hurt but
desired to have three groats for a shilling. The gentleman finding
them to be three poor ignorant fellows, asked them for their shilling;
they immediately told him they had given it to hur poor aged father.
The gentleman in great wrath cry'd out, You villains, do you think I'm
the son of a jackanapes. And threatening to set them by the heels; but
discovering their simplicity asked them what the jackanapes did with
it. Quoth they, he put it into that hole. So he supposed it might
be, and gave them three groats, bidding them be gone, so away went
Sheffery's countrymen to their places provided for them, but Sheffery
had hur fortune to seek."

Which he did with varying success; married the widow of a physician,
set up as doctor, got a wonderful reputation, and finally died,
leaving his practice to his son Shon ap Morgan.

There is a Second Part to this history.




  =Unfortunate Welchman=




This is another of the satires against the Welsh, which were so
frequent in the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. It was
written in the latter part of the seventeenth century, as the first
edition shows.

"The Welch Traveller; or the Unfortunate Welchman;

  "If any Gentleman do want a Man,
  As I doubt not but some do now and than,
  I have a Welchman though but meanly clad--
  Will make him merry be he nere so sad:
  If that you read, read it quite ore I pray,
  And you'l not think your penny cast away.

"By Humphry Crouch.

"London printed for William Whitwood at the Sign of the Bell in Duck
Lane near Smithfield 1671."

The engraving to that edition is exactly similar to the Chap-book

As the frontispiece to the Aldermary edition (from which the subjoined
illustrations are taken) is almost similar to "The Life and Death of
Sheffery Morgan," one from a Newcastle Chap-book of about the same age
has been substituted. This is a metrical story of the adventures of a
Welshman who was going along star-gazing.


  "For as hur gaz'd upon the Sky,
    For want of better wit,
  Poor Taffy fell immediately
    Into a great deep pit.

  "Had not a shepherd been hur friend,
    And help'd hur quickly out,
  Hur surely then had had an end,
    Hur makes no other doubt."

Hungry and weary, he arrived at an alehouse, where the hostess gave
him rotten eggs, which he cast in her face, and fled. Seeing an apple
tree, he climbed it in order to assuage his hunger.

  "Up into the tree hur gets,
    The owner came anon,
  Made hur almost besides hur wits,
    A cruel fight began.


  "He pelted hur with large huge stones
    And hur did apples cast;
  The stones did so benumb her pones
    That down hur come at last."

He fled, and lying down under a hedge, saw a couple of lovers, one of
whom dropped a gold ring, which he picked up and appropriated. But

  "Going thro' a town, God wot,
    Against some ill bred curs,
  Hur shewed it to a chattering trot
    Who said the ring was hers."

An altercation ensued, and it ended in their going before a justice,
where the Welshman, calling the justice a "great Boobie," was sent to
the stocks. Whilst there, the lovers passed him, and he told them that
the woman had the ring. She was apprehended and put with him in the


  "Now Taffy had his hearts desire
    He had her company,
  But when he did begin to jeer,
    She in his face did fly."

He was released, and finding a house open and the proprietor absent,
he entered and began feeding on the bacon smoking up the chimney,
sitting astride of it; but fell down, bacon and all, when the owner
and his wife were sitting by the fire. The man beat him severely, and
he ran away. Joining some gipsies on the road, they agreed to rob the
house of its bacon, by letting Taffy down the chimney with a rope.
This was done.


  "They let him down, to work he falls,
    The bacon strait doth bind,
  The gipsies up the bacon haul
    And leave the fool behind."

He went to the larder and helped himself to the bread and butter,
and by his sooty and begrimed appearance he frightened the maid, who
thought he was the devil; and she alarmed her master, who came with
a sword, but was appalled by the sight of the pseudo-fiend. He walked
away, frightening the children, till the women of the town determined
to drive the devil out; and sorely they beat poor Taffy, who took
refuge in the church, where he was captured by the sexton, who was not
afraid of him, carried before a justice, and condemned to stand for
"one long hour or more" in the pillory, where the history leaves him.





  _No Joak like a true Joak_.


  Diverting Humours of Mr. John Ogle a Life
  Guard Man




  _Rochesters Dream, his Maiden Disappointment and
  his Mountebanks Speech_


  The diverting Fancies and Frolicks of Charles 2
  and his three Concubines



Space will only admit of a few of these "Joaks," even if their quality
would permit them to be reproduced for general perusal. "Another time
Ogle wanted a pair of boots which were brought to him. They fitting
him he walks up and down the shop to settle them to his feet, but
espying an opportunity, he ran out of the shop, and the shoemaker
followed him, crying, Stop thief, stop thief--No, gentlemen, it is for
a wager, I am to run in boots, and he shoes and stockings. Then,
said the mob, Well done boots, shoes and stockings can never overtake
thee--So Ogle got clear off with the boots."


"One time the Earl of Warwick being out late one night and in company
of an officer who had an artificial leg, they went into the Dark house
near Billingsgate, but by the way the wary Warwick scraped a deal of
dust out of a rotten post, and as he was putting it up before several
people, one asked him what that powder was good for? Warwick said, it
is good for all manner of bruises, sores, and scalds. And to shew the
excellency of it, he desired them to bring him a kettle of scalding
hot water. Then rubbing the powder on his friends artificial leg, he
put it into the water. Now, the people seeing he was not hurt, soon
bought up all the powder, so that his lordship very shortly raised
between three and four pounds. Soon after this a very ingenious
drayman who had purchased some of the powder, being in company with
some of his calling, and having laid a wager that he could put his
leg into a kettle of scalding water without hurting himself. The wager
being laid, he, like a cunning dog, got into a private room, to rub
the powder of rotten post upon his leg. Which done, he returns to the
kitchen, and plunged his leg into the kettle of scalding hot water
which made him roar out like a town bull, and what was worst, he had
like to have lost his leg."


Lord Pembroke was once playing the fool with a woman of low degree,
when she persuaded him to strap her child upon his back, which when
done, she ran away, and left him the child to take care of.


The frontispiece is supposed to represent the following scene:--"The
Earl of Rochester being out of favour at the Court took private
lodgings on Tower Hill, where being in disguise, he set up a
mountebank's stage upon the hill, and spoke to the Mob in the
following manner.

"Gentlemen and Ladies.

"Here is my famous Unguentum Aureum, or Golden Ointment, so very
famous for curing all kinds of distempers in men, women and children.
Look here, good people, this is my noble Tinctura Hyperboriacorum
prepared only by myself. This will make the blind to see, the deaf to
hear and the dumb to speak; nay there is nothing can restore life
so soon as this; for with three drops of this tincture I restored a
gentleman to life who had lost his head seven years; but he being
a state criminal, the Emperor made me fly to Germany for my great
exploit; Therefore I am come here to seek my fortune, with my
incomparable and famous tincture, which cures all manner of sickness,
hectick fever, jaundice, looseness, megrims, and all other distempers
incident to mankind," etc.







  Who were three Archers good enough
  The best in the North Country.



This Chap-book follows the old poem very closely, and, in its main
facts, is almost identical with an edition of 1550.[18]

The story is briefly as follows:--Of the three outlaws, only one,
William of Cloudeslie, was married, and he longed to see his wife
and children at Carlisle. He went, was welcomed by his wife, but
was betrayed to the sheriff by an old woman whom he had kept out
of charity over seven years. His house was surrounded, and, as no
entrance could be forced, it was set on fire. William let down his
wife and children out of a back window, and at last he was compelled
to sally forth in order to escape being burnt. He was overcome and
captured, and sentenced to be hanged next day. A little boy heard of
this, and ran and told Adam Bell and Clim, who went to Carlisle, and,
in spite of fearful odds against them, rescued William when on his
road to execution. They performed prodigies of valour, killed the
justice, and sheriff, and hundreds of the citizens, and finally
got clear off. William's wife joined them, and, fearful of the
consequences of their deeds, they set off at once to London to sue
for pardon from the king. At first he would not hear of it, but at
the queen's intercession he relented and pardoned them, just before a
letter arrived from Carlisle narrating their evil doings. The pardon
could not be recalled, but the king, having heard of their wonderful
shooting, determined that they should beat all his archers or die.
William did so, by cleaving a hazel wand at four hundred paces, and
then shooting an apple off his son's head at a hundred and twenty
paces. The king was so struck with these marvellous feats that--

  "Now God forbid, then said the King,
  That thou should shoot at me.
  I give thee Eighteen pence a Day,
  And my Bow shalt thou bear,
  Yea, over all the North Country,
  I make thee Chief Keeper.
  Ill give thee Thirteen pence a Day,
  Said the Queen, by my fay
  Come fetch the payment when thou wilt
  No man shall say thee Nay.
  William, I make thee Gentleman,
  Of Clothing and of Fee,
  Thy Brethren of my Bedchamber
  For they are lovely to see.
  Your Son, for he's of tender age,
  Of my Cellarists shall be;
  And when he comes to Man's Estate
  Better preferr'd shall be;
  And William bring your wife, said she,
  I long full sore to see;
  She shall be chief Gentlewoman
  To govern my Nursery."

It will be seen from the foregoing short description, that the
frontispiece has nothing to do with the book. It is very evidently
belonging to some history of Robin Hood, as he is represented in the
centre at the top, having on one side either the Bishop of Carlisle
or the Abbot of St. Mary's, and on the other the beggar, tinker, or
shepherd who thrashed him, while at the bottom are Little John, Friar
Tuck, and Maid Marian.

    [Footnote 18: "Adam bel Clym of the cloughe and wyllyym of
    cloudesle. (colophon) Imprinted at London in Lothburye by
    Wyllyam Copland." Black letter.]








Whilst the poems and ballads on Robin Hood are more plentiful than
on any other Englishman, the Chap-books are comparatively scarce,
probably on account of the impossibility of condensing his numerous
adventures and exploits into the conventional twenty-four pages. There
are several editions printed in London, all having similar engravings,
of which, however, but three or four belong properly to the work,
which are reproduced below, the first being Robin Hood and the Abbot
of St. Mary.


  "He bound the Abbot to a tree,
    And would not let him pass
  Before that to his men and he,
    His Lordship had said Mass."

The next is Robin's attack on the Bishop of Ely.


  "He riding down towards the North,
    With his aforesaid train
  Robin and his men did issue forth,
    Them all to entertain.
  And with the gallant grey goose wing,
    They shew'd to them such play,
  That made their horses kick and fling,
    And down their riders lay.
  Full glad and fain the Bishop was,
    For all his thousand men,
  To seek what means he could to pass
    From out of Robin's ken.
  Two hundred of his men were kill'd,
    And fourscore horses good,
  Thirty who did as captives yield,
    Were brought to the Green Wood--
  Which afterwards were ransomed
    For twenty marks a man,
  The rest set spurs to horse and fled
    To the town of Warrington."

And there is the representation of the treacherous monk bleeding him
to death.


  "This sad perplexity did cause
    A fever as some say,
  Which him into confusion draws,
    Tho' by a stranger way.
  This deadly danger to prevent,
    He hy'd him with all speed
  Unto a Nunnery with intent
    For health's sake there to bleed.
  A faithless friar did pretend
    In love, to let him blood,
  But he by falsehood wrought the end
    Of famous Robin Hood."






  [Illustration: Young _Monford_ Riding to the Wars where he
          unhapily lost his Eyesight]

  Licensed and Enterd according to Order

  Printed for _T. Norris_, at the _Looking-Glass_ on _London Bridge_.

The illustrations to this very scarce Chap-book are evidently of
earlier date than 1715, to which it is assigned, and, with the
exception of the one of the blind beggar and his dog, have probably
very little to do with the letter-press. The frontispiece is more
likely to represent "Prince Rupert and his dogge Pudle" than "Young
Monford Riding to the Wars." The ballad is well known, and extremely
popular in England; it was written in the reign of Elizabeth, to
commemorate the tradition of Henry de Montfort, a son of Simon de
Montfort, the famous Earl of Leicester, founder of the House of
Commons, who was slain at the battle of Evesham, August 4, 1265. His
son, Henry, who was left for dead on the field, was found, according
to the ballad, by a baron's daughter, who had come to search for her
father, but finding young Montfort half dead and deprived of sight by
his wounds, she "was moved with pitye and brought him awaye."

  "In secret she nurst him, and swaged his paine,
  While hee through the realme was beleev'd to be slaine;
  At length his faire bride she consented to bee,
  And made him glad father of prettye Bessee.
  And now lest oure foes oure lives sholde betraye,
  Wee clothed ourselves in beggar's arraye;
  Her jewelles shee sold, and hither came wee;
  All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee."

The Chap-book differs somewhat in detail from the ballad. It places
the time in the wars with France, and the scene itself in France,
whither Monford went, accompanied by his wife in man's attire. He was
wounded and blind, and was discovered on the field by his wife and
servant, and on his recovery to health they all returned to England;
but his relations, for some unknown reason, treated him very coldly,
and this their high spirits could not brook, so it ended in their
settling down at Bethnal Green, where she spun and he turned beggar.

Here a professional beggar named Snap introduced himself to him, and
"invited him to their Feasts, or Rendezvouse in White chappel, whither
he having promised to come, and they between them tipp'd off four
black Pots of Hum, they at that time parted." His wife took him to the
"rendezvouse," where he not only thoroughly enjoyed himself, but the
beggars presented him with a dog trained to the business.


Soon after this pretty Betty was born, and at fifteen years of age was
a marvel of beauty, and a paragon of accomplishments. Betty then left
her parents, and obtained a situation at an inn at Rumford, where she
found plenty of lovers, all of whom, except the knight, withdrew their
pretensions to her hand when they heard she was only the daughter of a
blind beggar. The knight, however, was constant, and they had just set
out together to see old Monford, when the knight's uncle came up, and,
having followed them, created a scene at the beggar's residence, when,
to end it, Monford proposed to give angel for angel with the knight's
uncle, as a fortune for the young people. The uncle's servant was sent
for coin, and the two old gentlemen set themselves to their task of
dropping angels against each other; but the beggar kept producing
cats' skins filled with gold, and beat the knight's uncle. This money
was made up to £3000 by Monford, who also gave Bessie "a hundred
more to buy her a gown." Monford declared his pedigree; everybody was
pleased and happy, and the young couple were duly married.


[Illustration: The young Knight that Married pretty _Betty_]



  _Of Bethnal Green_;



His going to the Wars, losing his sight, and turning Beggar at Bethnal
Green. Of his getting Riches, and the Education of his Daughter; who
is courted by a young Knight.--Of the Beggar's dropping Gold with the
Knight's Uncle.--Of the Knight's Marriage with the Beggar's Daughter;
and the Discovery of his famous Pedigree.




  "The Beggar Trav'lling with his Dog,
  Brings home good store of Wealth to prog
  With which he does outvie the Knight,
  And weds his Child to her delight."





[Illustration: The HISTORY of The Two Children in the WOOD.]

  _The most Lamentable and Deplorable_





The happy Loves and Lives of their Parents, the Treachery and
barbarous Villany of their Unkle, the duel between the Murdering
Ruffians, and the unhappy and deplorable death of the two innocent

As also an Account of the Justice of God that overtook the Unnatural
Unkle; and of the deserved Death of the two murdering Ruffians.




The date given to this rare and most interesting Chap-book is 1700,
but though the frontispiece apparently points to an earlier date, it
seems to have been executed specially for this work, as the nearest
approach to it, a ballad in the Bagford Collection (British Museum,
(643, m. 10)/44), varies from it in some slight particulars, and this
is undoubtedly the finest engraving of the subject extant. Almost all
the ballads of the seventeenth, and the Chap-books of the eighteenth,
century give a similar treatment: the duel between the ruffians, the
birds covering the children with leaves, the deserved chastisement of
the good robber, and the fearful punishment that fell upon the wicked
uncle thus described in this book. "But tho' he had contriv'd all this
so privately, yet Divine vengeance follow'd him; affrighting Dreams
terrifying him in his Sleep, and the image of the murther'd children
still staring him i' th' Face; and he that egg'd him on to all this
wickedness, now in most horrid Shapes appear'd to him, and threat'ning
every Moment to destroy him. Besides, most of his Cattle dy'd of the
Murrain, his Corn was blasted, and his Barns were fir'd by Lightning;
Mildews and Catter-pillars destroy'd all his Fruits; two of his Sons,
for whom he coveted his Brother's Lands, were cast away at Sea. His
company was hated by all honest Men, and he was forc'd to herd with
Rogues and Villains out of meer necessity, amongst whom when he had
profusely lavish'd his Estate, he run in Debt, and was cast into
Prison, where through Despair and Want he dy'd unpitied."

"The Old Song upon the Same" is identical with the earliest (1640)
in the British Museum (Rox. I. 284), and may be considered as the
standard ballad. Indeed, another ballad (Rox. III. 588) in the same
collection (1720) has been corrected in ink from this model.


  "Now ponder well, you Parents dear, these words which I shall write,
  A Doleful Story you shall hear, in time brought forth to light;
  A Gentleman of good account, in Norfolk dwelt of late,
  Whose Wealth and Riches did surmount, most men of his Estate.
  Sore sick he was, and like to dye, No help that he could have;
  His Wife by him as sick did lye, and both possess'd one Grave,
  No love between these two was lost, each was to other kind,
  In love they liv'd, in love they dy'd, and left two Babes behind.
  The one a fine and prity Boy, not passing three Years old,
  The other a Girl more young than he, and made in Beauty's Mould;
  The Father left his little Son, as plainly doth appear,
  When he to perfect Age should come, three hundred Pounds a year.
  And to his little Daughter Jane, five hundred Pound in Gold,
  To be paid down on Marriage day, which might not be controul'd;
  But if the Children chance to dye, e're they to Age should come,
  Their Uncle should possess their Wealth, for so the Will did run.
  'Now, brother, (said the dying Man) look to my children dear,
  'Be good unto my Boy and Girl, no Friends else I have here:
  'To God and you I do commend my children night and day,
  'A little while be sure we have within this world to stay.
  'You must be Father and Mother both, and Uncle all in one;
  'God knows what will become of them, when I am dead and gone.
  'With that bespoke their Mother dear, O Brother kind quoth she,
  'You are the Man must bring my Babes to Wealth or Misery.
  'If you do keep them carefully, then God will you reward.
  'If otherwise you seem to deal, God will your Deeds regard.
  With lips as cold as any stone, he kist the Children small,
  'God bless you both, my Children dear; with that the tears did fall.
  These Speeches then their Brother spoke, to this sick Couple there,
  'The keeping of your Children dear, sweet Sister, do not fear;
  'God never prosper me nor mine, nor aught else that I have,
  'If I do wrong your Children dear, when you are laid in Grave.'
  Their Parents being dead and gone, the Children home he takes,
  And brings them home unto his House, and much of them he makes.
  He had not kept those prity Babes, a Twelvemonth and a Day,
  But for their Wealth he did devise to make them both away.
  He bargain'd with two Ruffians rude, that were of furious Mood,
  That they should take the Children young, and slay them in a Wood.
  And told his Wife and all he had, he did the Children send
  To be brought up in fair London, with one that was his friend.
  Away then went these prity Babes rejoycing at that Tide,
  Rejoycing with a merry mind, they should on Cock horse ride:
  They prate and prattle pleasantly, as they rode on the way,
  To those that should their Butchers be, and work their Lives decay.
  So that the prity speech they had, made Murtherers hearts relent,
  And they that took the Deed to do, full sore they did repent.
  Yet one of them more hard of heart, did vow to do his charge,
  Because the wretch that hired him, had paid him very large.
  The other would not agree thereto, so here they fell at Strife,
  With one another they did fight about the Children's Life:
  And he that was of mildest mood, did slay the other there,
  Within an unfrequented Wood, where Babes did quake for fear.
  He took the Children by the hand, when tears stood in their eye,
  And bade them come and go with him, and look they did not cry:
  And two long Miles he led them thus, while they for Bread complain,
  Stay here, quoth he, I'll bring ye Bread, when I do come again.
  These prity Babes with hand in hand, went wandering up and down,
  But never more they saw the Man, approaching from the Town:
  Their prity lips with Black berries, were all besmear'd and dy'd,
  And when they saw the darksome night, they sat them down and cry'd.
  Thus wandered these two prity Babes, till death did end their grief;
  In one another's arms they dy'd as Babes wanting Relief;
  No Burial these prity Babes of any Man receives,
  Till Robin red breast painfully, did cover them with Leaves.
  And now the heavy Wrath of God upon their Uncle fell,
  Yea, fearful Fiends did haunt his house, his Conscience felt an
  His barns were fir'd, his goods consum'd, his lands were barren
  His Cattle dy'd within the Field, and nothing with him staid.
  And in the Voyage of Portugal, two of his sons did dye;
  And to conclude, himself was brought unto much Misery;
  He pawn'd and mortgag'd all his land, e're seven years came about;
  And now at length this wicked Act, did by this means come out:
  The Fellow that did take in hand these Children for to kill,
  Was for a Robbery judg'd to dye, as was God's blessed Will;
  Who did confess the very Truth of what here is exprest;
  Their Uncle dy'd while he for debt, did long in Prison rest.
  All you that be Executors made, and Overseers eke,
  Of Children that be Fatherless, and Infants mild and meek;
  Take you Example by this thing, and yeild to each his Right,
  Least God with such like Misery, your wicked Minds requite.


In "The History of the Children in the Wood; or Murder Revenged,"
published in Aldermary Churchyard, and all other Chap-books, the name
of the father is changed from Arthur Truelove to Pisaurus, the wicked
uncle is called Androgus, and the children are named Cassander and

The three illustrations therefrom tell their own story.









  Lord Mayor of London.



The common version of Whittington's story is well known, and not
worth repeating at length. The headings of the chapters tell the tale
succinctly, and are all that is wanted to explain the illustrations.

"Chap. 1. Of Whittington's obscure Birth and hard Fortune; and of his
being drove to London.

"Chap. 2. Of Mrs. Alice putting him under the Cook, with her cruel
Usage to him; and Mrs. Alice's interposition in his favour.

"Chap. 3. Of his being troubled with Vermin in his Garret; of his
buying a Cat to destroy them; and of his sending her for a venture

"It was a custom with the worthy merchant Mr. Hugh Fitz Warren, that
God might give him a greater blessing to his endeavours, to call his
servants together when he sent out a ship, and cause every one to
venture something in it to try their fortune; for which they was to
pay nothing for freight or custom."

The two illustrations, one taken from a Chap-book published at
Newcastle (1770?), show Fitzwarren receiving his servants' ventures.



"Chap. 4. Of Whittington's Elopement on Allhallow's Day; and his
Return on hearing Bow Bells ring; and of the Disposal of the Cat by
the Factor abroad."

This illustration shows the dreadful condition of the Court of Barbary
as regards rats, and by the style the cat is killing her foes,
the casket of jewels, valued at £300,000, was not too dear for her

"Chap. 5. Of the Riches received for the Cat; the Unbelief of
Whittington on their Arrival; and of his Liberality to some of his
Fellow Servants.

"Chap. 6. Of Mr. Whittington's Comely Person and Deportment; of Mrs.
Alice's falling in Love with him and marrying him, and of his being
Sheriff of London.

"Chap. 7. Of his being thrice Lord Mayor, his entertainment of Henry
V., and his Death, Burial, etc."



As a matter of fact, the common story of Sir Richard Whittington is
full of error. So far from being a poor obscure boy, he was the third
son of Sir William Whittington, lord of the manor of Pauntley, in
Gloucestershire, who died in 1360. He was sent to London to be a
merchant, then a not unusual course to pursue with cadets of good
families, and eventually became enormously rich. He was thrice Lord
Mayor of London, in 1397, 1406, and 1419, besides having been named by
Richard II. to succeed a Mayor who died in his year of office. He was
a mercer, and enjoyed royal patronage, his invoices of the wedding
trousseau of the Princesses Blanche and Philippa, daughters of Henry
IV., being still in existence. He died, leaving no issue, in 1423.
He rebuilt Newgate, founded the library in Guildhall, and the
Grey Friars, repaired St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and materially
contributed towards the rebuilding of the nave of Westminster Abbey.
These are the bare facts of his life. His cat still remains a mystery.
It has been said that he made money by carrying coals in vessels
called cats or "cattes." Mr. Riley, who edited the famous "Liber
Albus" (which compilation we owe to Whittington), suggests that his
fortune was made by "achats," which was the French name for trading;
and Mr. Lysons, in his charming book, "The Model Merchant of the
Middle Ages," defends the ordinary story on these grounds:

1st. From the ancient and generally received tradition;

2nd. From the scarcity and value of domestic cats at that period;

3rd. From its not being a solitary instance of a fortune made by such

4th. From the ancient portraits and statues of Whittington in
connection with a cat, some of which may be reasonably traced up to
the times and orders of his own executors.

The reader may decide which of the three theories he prefers.










This Chap-book gives a very fair account of the domestic troubles of
Richard II.'s reign, especially of the poll-tax rising of 1381; but it
stigmatizes as "scum," "rake shames," and "rake hells" those poor men
who then rose against oppression.

The frontispiece represents Sir William Walworth, and gives due
prominence to the famous dagger, with which he is said to have killed
Wat Tyler, and which is still shown at Fishmonger's Hall.

There was a play, "The Life and Death of Iake Straw, a notable Rebell
in England; who was kild in Smithfield by the Lord Maior of
London--Printed at Lond. by Iohn Danter and are to be sold by
William . Barley 1593;" and a tract, which was taken from the
"Chronicle of the Schoolmaster of St. Albans," called "The just Reward
of Rebels, or the Life and Death of Jack Straw and Wat Tyler 1642."
There was also another little book, of which two editions appeared in
1654, called "The Idol of the Clownes or Insurrection of Wat the









Of Jack of Newbury, as he is familiarly called, very little is known
certainly. He lived in the reigns of Henry VII. and VIII., and
was said to be the largest clothier or clothmaker in England. He
sumptuously entertained Henry VIII. and Queen Catherine on their
visit to the town, and built the vestry to the church, besides having
liberally contributed towards its improvement. He also left £40 for
the same object. In his will he describes himself as "John Smalwoode
the Elder a[~l]s John Wynchcombe." He was twice married, and left his
wife Joan behind him. There is a brass to him and his first wife: "Off
yo charitie pray for the soule of John Smalwode als Wynchcom & Alys
hys Wyfe. John dyed the 15 day of February A^o Dm. M^oCCCCC^oXIX."

The Chap-book version is, that he was apprenticed to a rich clothier
at Newbury, and married his master's widow, and a great portion of
the book is taken up with their courtship. "Shortly after the king had
occasion to raise an army against the Scots, who were risen against
the English, Jack of Newbury raised at his own expense one hundred
and fifty men, and cloathed them with white coats, red caps and yellow
feathers, and led them himself." This was to the famous battle of


Jack's wife died, and he married one of his maids, whose father came
to see her, and was astonished at Jack's magnificent establishment,
making a speech which would delight the Philological Society. "Sir,
quoth the old man, I wize you be abominable rich, and cham content
you should have my daughter, and God's blessing and mine light on you
both. I waith cham of good exclamashon amongst all my neighbours, and
they will as soon ask my 'vize for any thing as rich men. So thick I
will agree. You shall have her with my very good will, because we
hear a very good commendation of you in every place, therefore besides
thick, I will give you twenty marks and a weaning calf that's a year
old, and when I and my wife die then you shall have the revolution of
our goods."

Jack, however, gave the old man twenty pounds and other things. The
book ends with Jack's death, and an imaginary epitaph.

Thomas Deloney wrote a novel called "The Pleasant History of John
Winchcomb, in his younger yeares called Jack of Newberie, the famous
and worthy clothier of England," which was licensed to three several
persons in 1595 and 1596; but the earliest known edition is the
eighth, published in 1619.


  =Life and Death=




  _King Henry the Second_




Perhaps the earliest book about this frail beauty is "The Life and
Death of Fair Rosamond, King Henry the Seconds Concubine, and how she
was Poysoned to death by Queen Elenor. Printed for F. Coles" (circa
1640); but afterwards her story became very popular, and numerous
editions were published. She has more than once been made the subject
of a drama. There is one, however, by John Bancroft, which is replete
with historical recollections. It is called "Henry the Second, King
of England; with the death of Rosamond. A Tragedy Acted at the Theatre
Royal, by their Majesties Servants. Printed for Jacob Tonson, at the
Judges Head in Chancery Lane near Fleet Street 1693." Thackeray's
"poor Will Mountfort" wrote the "epistle dedicatory;" Dryden wrote the
epilogue. Betterton played King Henry II.; Doggett took the part
of Bertrand, a priest; whilst Queen Eleanor and Rosamond were
respectively represented by Mrs. Barry and Mrs. Bracegirdle!

Respecting Rosamond's tomb, there is no doubt she was buried at
Godstow, for her father, Walter de Clifford,[19] granted the nuns
there certain property at Frampton-on-Severn (which tradition says
was the birthplace of the fair one), "pro salute animæ meæ, et pro
animabus uxoris meæ Margaretæ et filiæ nostræ Rosamundæ." And in
another document (same page) Osbertus, son of Hugh, gave to the
convent a certain saltpit at Wich, at the instance of the said
Walter de Clifford, "pro salute animæ uxoris suæ Margaretæ et
animæ filiæ suæ Rosamundæ _quarum corpora ibidem requiescunt_."

The history of the "Rosa Mundi" is not told to advantage in this
Chap-book, but its facts are mainly in accordance with the popular
tradition; and probably the stratagem used by Queen Eleanor to effect
an entrance into her rival's bower, _i.e._ by sending a sham postman,
may be as correct as the generally received notion of the ball of silk
being dropped and unrolled, thus betraying the place of her seclusion.

The bowl and dagger scene so vividly given in the frontispiece, is in
accordance with tradition, although among nearly contemporary writers
there is no mention of her dying a violent death, nor was such
suggested till long afterwards. In fact, we have no evidence at all in
support of Eleanor's jealous violence. As before mentioned, Rosamond
was buried at Godstow, a convent near Oxford, of which a very ruined
portion still exists; but her remains were not suffered to remain
undisturbed, for Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, coming to Godstow in 1191,
asked whose tomb that was, and was told it was the tomb of Rosamond,
"some time Lemman to Henry II." Then said the stern bishop, "Take out
of this place the Harlot, and bury her without the Church." Tradition
says her poor bones were then laid in the nun's chapter-house, but
at the Reformation they were taken up and her tomb destroyed.
Hearne[20] says, "After this Removal, it continu'd at rest 'till about
the time of the Reformation, when 'twas taken up, as Mr. Leland
himself acquaints us, and at the same time a Stone was found with it,
on which was this Inscription 'Tumba Rosamvnda' which is a different
Inscription from this common one:[21]

  'Hic jacet in Tumba Rosa Mundi, non Rosa Munda
  Non redolet, sed olet, quæ redolere solet.'

But the latter possibly is the Epitaph that was fix'd in the Quire of
the Church before the Body was remov'd. Mr. Leland, I think, saw the
Stone himself, and he tells us that when her Coffin was open'd they
found her Bones in it, and a very sweet smell came from it."

    [Footnote 19: Monasticon, vol. ii. p. 884, ed. orig.]

    [Footnote 20: Leland's "Itinerary" (2nd edit.), p. 101.]

    [Footnote 21: In Corio's "History of Milan" (vol. i. p. 47)
    this epitaph is stated to have been placed on the tomb of
    Rosamunda, queen of the Lombards, who died by poison, in the
    sixth century.]






  "Know this plain Truth (enough for Man to know)
  "Virtue alone is Happiness below."


This Chap-book seems the only edition extant. It is no great loss in a
literary point of view, for the supposed history is pure fiction.
The countess is represented as the daughter of Earl Varuccio, and the
whole novelette is about the endeavours of the king to seduce her.
He tries when her husband is alive, and when she is a widow he
still presses her to be his mistress, and is firmly but respectfully
repulsed. He makes her father and mother sue to her, without success;
and finally, being overcome by the sight of such immaculate virtue,
marries her amid the plaudits of the people. The episode of the garter
only occupies a paragraph at the end of the book.


  _With the Life and Glorious Actions of_

  =Edward the Black Prince=

Son to Edward the Third King of England, his Victory, with about
Twelve thousand Archers and Men at Arms, over Philip of France, and an
hundred thousand Frenchmen; his Vanquishing King John of France, and
taking him and his Son Prisoners; his Love to the Earl of Kent's fair
Daughter, and Marriage with her; Being a History full of great and
noble Actions in Love and Arms, to the Honour of the English Nation.









An account of her Birth, Parentage, her Marriage with Mr. Matthew
Shore, a Goldsmith in Lombard Street, London. How she left her
Husband's bed to live with King Edward IV. And of the miserable End
she made at her Death.



According to this Chap-book version (and it is as reliable as any
other), this lovely, but erring, woman was the daughter of Mr. Thomas
Wainsted, a mercer in Cheapside, whose business lay among the ladies
of the Court, whither his daughter frequently accompanied him. Her
conduct seems to have been of extreme levity, and her father rejoiced
when she was married to Matthew Shore, a rich goldsmith in Lombard
Street. Lord Hastings, having in vain tried to seduce her, and being
forbidden the house by her husband, told the king, Edward IV., of her;
who went to Shore's house, disguised as a merchant, and saw her. By
the contrivance of Hastings and a go-between named Mrs. Blague, Jane
was enticed to a Court ball, where the king discovered himself and
told her of his affection for her. This was too much for the weak
woman, and next day she left her husband's home. Shore, finding where
she had gone, was heartbroken, and went abroad; returned in poverty,
took to evil ways, and was executed for clipping coin in the reign of
Henry VIII. Jane lived in great splendour until the death of Edward,
and then Lord Hastings took her; but at his death she was apprehended,
and had to do penance in a white sheet, with a cross and wax taper
in her hand, walking barefoot and bare-headed through Cheapside.
The Chap-book gives a graphic account of her sad fate: "Richard, not
content with this, put out a severe proclamation to this effect; That
on pain of death, and confiscation of goods, no one should harbour her
in their houses or relieve her with food and raiment. So that she
went wandering up and down to find her food upon the bushes and on the
dunghills, where some friends she had raised would throw bones with
more meat than ordinary, and crusts of stale bread in the places where
she generally haunted. And a baker who had been condemned to die for a
riot in King Edward's reign and saved by her means, as he saw her pass
along in gratitude for her kindness would trundle a penny loaf after
her, which she thankfully took up and blest him with tears in her
eyes. But some malicious neighbour informing against him: he was taken
up and hanged for disobeying King Richard's proclamation; which so
terrified others, that they durst not relieve her with anything, so
that in miserable rags, almost naked, she went about a most
shocking spectacle, wringing her hands, and bemoaning her unhappy
circumstances." After Bosworth Field and Richard's death, she hoped
for help from Henry VII.; but receiving only fresh persecution, "she
wandered up and down in as poor and miserable condition as before,
till growing old, and utterly friendless, she finished her life in a
ditch, which is from thence called Shore Ditch adjoining to Bishopgate

There is a very lugubrious and classical poem of nearly two hundred
verses, or twelve hundred lines, called "Beawtie dishonoured written
vnder the title of Shore's wife" (London, 1593).

    [Footnote 22: It is needless to say that this derivation is
    utterly erroneous. It was probably called so because the ditch
    was a shore or sewer, or from Sir John de Soerdich, lord of the
    manor, _temp._ Edward III.]



  Of the most Renowned


  _And her great Favourite_


  [Illustration: ELIZABETHA REGINA]


More than half this book is taken up with an elaborate confession
by Elizabeth, to the Countess of Nottingham, of her love for the
unfortunate Earl of Essex; and, historically speaking, it has many
blunders, such as making him privately marry the Countess of Rutland,
instead of Sir Philip Sidney's widow, etc. It is mainly taken from
"The Secret History of the most renowned Queen Elizabeth and the Earl
of Essex. By a Person of Quality London 1695;" and, like that book,
was sometimes published in two parts.





  _King Charles the First_


  _EFFIGIES_ of those _WORTHY PERSONS_ that
  Suffered; and the Time and Places where they lost
  their Lives in his Majesty's Cause, during the Usurpation



Of this book there are two parts, and it is interesting, as it gives
portraits of the celebrated men in Charles I.'s reign, with brief
biographical notices of each, out of Clarendon. Space will only admit
of the portraits out of the first part.



[Illustration: DR. HEWIT.


[Illustration: EARL OF LITCHFIELD.]

[Illustration: EARL OF KINGSTON.]

[Illustration: EARL OF NORTHAMPTON.]

[Illustration: EARL OF STRAFFORD.]

[Illustration: EARL OF CARNARVON.]

[Illustration: EARL OF LINDSEY.]

  =England's Black Tribunal;=


  Characters of King _CHARLES_ the First, and
  the Nobility that Suffer'd for him.


  _Ecce Spectaculum dignum ad quod respiciat Deus operi suo
  intentus, Vir fortis cum mala fortuna compositus._

  Sen. de Prov. c. 2.

  _LONDON_: Printed for _E. M._ near _White-Hall_.

This Chap-book is extremely like the "History of the Royal Martyr," as
it simply consists of portraits and short biographies of

  Sir Bevil Granville.
  Viscount Falkland.
  Earl of Lichfield.
  Sir Ralph Hopton.
  Earl of Carnarvon.
  Earl of Holland.
  Marquis of Montrose.
  Earl of Kingston.
  Archbishop Laud.
  Earl of Lindsey.
  Dr. Hewit.
  Earl of Northampton.
  Lord Capel.
  Sir Henry Slingsby.
  Earl of Strafford.
  Duke of Hamilton.
  Colonel Penruddock.
  Sir Charles Lucas.
  Sir George Lisle.
  Earl of Derby.

  _The Foreign Travels of_



An Account of remote Kingdoms, Countries, Rivers, Castles, &c.
Together with a Description of Giants, Pigmies, and various other
People of odd Deformities; as also their Laws, Customs, and Manners.
Likewise, enchanted Wildernesses, Dragons, Griffins, and many more
wonderful Beasts of Prey, &c. &c. &c.



The earliest printed English edition seems to be that by Wynkyn
de Worde: "Here Begynneth a lytell treatyse or booke named Johan
Mandeuyll Knyght born in Englonde in the towne of saynt Albone, and
speketh of the wayes of the holy londe towards Iherrusalem, and of
marueyles of Ynde and of other dyuers co[=u]trees;" colophon: "Here
endeth the boke of Johan Ma[=u]deuyll Knyght, of the wayes towarde
Jerusalem and of the meruayles of Ynde and of other diverse
co[=u]tries. Emprynted at Westmynster by Wynkyn de Worde. Anno d[=n]i
1499." But the British Museum possesses earlier editions in other
languages--for instance, in French, 1478; Dutch, 1470; and Italian,
1488; which goes to show how universally his work was read.

The original of this book was intended as a guide for pilgrims for
Jerusalem. Of Sir John Maundeville, Knight, very little is known but
what he tells us--that he set out on his travels in 1323, and returned
and wrote the account in 1356. He afterwards went to Liége, and is
said to have died there, according to one authority in 1371, and
to another in 1382. He either was extremely credulous, and believed
everything told him, or he drew very largely upon his imagination for
his facts. Anyhow, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries his work
was most popular; and even the marvels contained in the condensed form
of a Chap-book are sufficient to satisfy the most rabid craving for
literary stimulants. As this history is not well known, it is given in
its entirety.

CHAP. 1.


I, Sir John Mandeville Kn^t born in the Old town of S^t Albans set
forward to travel on Michaelmas Day 1322,[23] to the Holy Land; and
shall give an account of all the remarkable things in the countries
thro' which I passed, as follows; First, In my way to Jerusalem, I
passed through Almain, Hungary, and so to Constantinople where before
S^t Stephen's Church is the image of Justinian the Emperor, sitting on
horseback crowned, holding an apple in his hand. From thence I passed
thro' Turkey, Nika, and several islands, where I beheld men hunting
with pampeons like leopards, catching wild beasts quicker than hounds.
From thence I passed to Hierusalem and went on a pilgrimage to the
Church where is the holy grave; in the middle of the Church is a
tabernacle, on the right side of which is the Sepulchre of our Lord
Jesus Christ; and the Cross on which he was crucified standing in a
Mortis by it. In this mortis, it is said Adam's head was found after
the Flood.

Travelling on further I came to a country whereon stands the Castle
of Cyprus; where I beheld a curious hawk sitting on a porch, and a
beautiful Lady of Fairy Land keeping it; and it is said, he that will
watch seven days and seven nights, without company or sleep, this lady
will come and grant him the richest of worldly things he shall crave;
and the truth of which hath been proved often by experience.

The men here are proper and of fine complection, their cloaths richly
beset with rubies and gold; but the women are short, hard favoured,
and go for the most part barefooted, their garments poor and short,
that it comes but to the middle of their thighs, yet their sleeves, so
extraordinary long that they hang down to their toes. Their hair long
and lank.

    [Footnote 23: The Chap-book says 1372, but that is a misprint.]

CHAP. 2.


From thence I came to the land of Ethiope, where I beheld many strange
things. Here is a well, whose water is so cold in the day, as no man
dare drink it, and so hot in the night as you cannot bear your finger
in it. There is still one thing remarkable in this place, for there is
a sort of men who have one foot, yet so swift as to exceed the deer in
running. This foot is so large in compass, as when they are minded to
rest, lying on their backs it shelters the body from the heat of the
sun or showers of rain--When their Children come first into the
world they are of a russet complection; but as they grow up they
turn perfect black.--One of the wise men who sought for Our Lord in
Bethlehem, was King of this Country.

From thence I went thro' many Islands into India, where there are
eels thirty feet in length, and the men who commonly fish there are of
different colours, such as green, yellow, blue, &c. In the heat of the
day the men and women lay themselves under water, and the women are
not ashamed to appear naked before the men.

In the island of Lombe they worship images according to their own
imaginations; and here there are wonderful rats, exceeding the tallest
hounds; and they hunt these rats with mastiff dogs, who can scarce
conquer them.

From thence I passed thro' the forest of Tombar, where grows abundance
of Spices, and came to a city called Polomes, where there is a well,
whose waters are variable every hour of the day, taking of changeable
spices and rich odors; and whoever drinks of this water three times
is cured of all diseases: They call it, The Well of Youth. I drank
thereof myself, and believe I am the better for it ever since.

Here they worship an Ox for his simplicity, whose dung and urine they
preserve in vessels of gold, and present it to the King, who puts
his hand into it, and anoints his breast and forehead, saying, "I am
anointed with the virtue of the Ox." And after him the Nobles do the
like, as long as any is left. The idols they constantly worship are
half men and half oxen, before whom they often slay their Children
by way of sacrifice. And when any man dies they burn him, in token of
penance; and if he leaves no children, they burn his wife with him,
saying she ought to bear him company in the next world, as she did in

CHAP. 3.


From thence I came to Lemory, where the men and women go naked, and
glory in it, saying God made Adam and Eve both naked, and why should
they be ashamed of what God made? Here is no marriages, but all are
common one with another. Their riches is as common to each other as
themselves; and though they have plenty of corn and other dainties yet
their chief food is Man's flesh.--Children from other Countries are
brought hither as Merchandise to be sold; and those that are fat and
plump are killed like pigs for stately banquetting; and those that are
lean they fatten and kill also. Near this isle is another, where the
nobility, as a mark of distinction are burned in the face with a red
hot iron. These people hold a perpetual war with the aforesaid naked
men and women.

From thence I travelled to Java, a place abounding with all manner of
Spices; the King thereof has seven Kings under him, and so wealthy is
he, that the stairs and floors of his palace are covered with massy
gold and silver; and the walls with the same. On which are written
ancient stories of renowned Knights and valiant men at arms.

Travelling from thence by sea, I came to the land of Telonoch; the
King of which has as many wives as he pleases, and never lies but once
with each woman. Here is a miraculous wonder, for the various sorts of
fishes that breed in the sea, come once a year to land, and lie there
three days, in which time the inhabitants take what they please, and
the rest return. Then comes another sort and does the like, till all
have taken their turns; and no one knoweth the reason, except it be,
as they say, that they come to worship their King; who is a mighty
Prince, and has at his command forty thousand elephants, upon whose
back, when he goeth to fight he placeth mighty Castles, whereby he
conquers his enemies.

CHAP. 4.


Not far from the last mentioned place is an island called Tarkonet,
inhabited by a wicked kind of people, whose delight is in the
slaughter of mankind, whose blood they drink with as much pleasure
as if it was the richest wine in the world. Moreover, he is accounted
most famous who commits most murders; and if two are at variance they
must drink of each other's blood before they can be reconciled.

Departing from thence, I came to the isle of Macumerac, where the men
and women have heads like hounds, and worship the Ox. They fight well,
and send the prisoners to their King; who is a peaceable and virtuous
man, hindering nobody from passing through his country. About his
neck he wears three hundred pearls, with which he says three hundred
prayers every morning before breakfast. Here are wild beasts,
serpents, &c.

CHAP. 5.


After three days journey I came to Dodyn, where the Child eats its
parents, and its parents the child; the husband his wife, and the wife
her husband. If a parent lies sick, the son goes to enquire of the
Oracle whether they are for life or death? if for death, he returns
with the priest and immediately stops the breath of the parent; which
done, the body is strait cut in pieces, and the relations invited to
come and feast upon it; having eat the flesh, they bury the bones with
joy and musick.

The King of this place has twelve isles under his government, viz. in
the first are men that eat fish and flesh raw, having but one eye,
and that in the middle of their foreheads--In the second are men whose
eyes are in their shoulders, and their mouths in their breasts, having
no heads.--In the third are men with plain faces, without noses or
eyes, but have two holes instead of eyes, and flat mouths--In the
fourth are men with plain faces, without nose, mouth or eyes; but they
are on their back and shoulders.--In the fifth are men with lips so
large that they cover their faces while asleep.--In the sixth are men
very small, being but two feet high.--In the seventh are men hanging
below their shoulders--In the eighth are men that have feet like
horses, and run as swift--In the ninth are men that run upon all
fours; their skins are as rough as bears--In the tenth are men going
upon their knees, with eight toes on each foot--In the eleventh are
men with fingers and toes a yard long--And in the twelfth are people
that are both men and women.

CHAP. 6.


Departing from Dodyn, I came to Mancia, in which is the City of Cassa,
having ten thousand bridges, and on each bridge a stately tower. Here
married women wear crowns on their heads by way of distinction. The
fowl are six times as large as in England--Hens instead of feathers
wear wool like sheep--Men have beards like Cats, yet are rational, and
of good and sound understanding.

From thence I passed along the river that leads to the Line of
Pigmies, where the men and women are but three spans long, and marry
when but half a year old; for as they are but of small stature, so
their days are short; for he is looked on to be old who lives eight
years. They are very ingenious at working silk and cotton, which is
their employ. Large men that live among them till the land, because
they are not strong enough to perform such hard labour.

From thence I travelled to the province Catha, where are two Cities,
the Old and the New. The New has twelve gates, each a mile asunder. In
these cities the palace of the great Caan is; in the hall are thirteen
pillars of fine gold, the walls covered with red skins of beasts. In
the center is a lofty seat for the great Caan, adorned with rubbies,
pearls, and diamonds; and underneath are fountains flowing with liquor
for the supply of his court. At the left hand are three seats for his
three wives who sit in a degree below each other; and on his right
hand sits his son and heir. In this hall is an artificial vine which
extends its branches over every part of the hall, on which appears
fine clusters of grapes.

Here the Emperor informed me of the origin of his title, which was as
follows; Under his government are seven Lineages, and it is not long
since a poor man, named Chanius, sleeping on his bed, was visited by
an apparition in the likeness of a Nobleman, saying unto him, Arise,
for God hath sent me unto thee to say unto thee, Go unto the seven
Lineages, and tell them, that thou shalt be their mighty Emperor
to deliver them from their enemies. The old man went, and having
delivered his message, they not only laughed at the old man, but
called him an hundred fools.--Soon after this, he appeared to the
Seven Lineages, telling them it was the will of God it should be so
for their deliverance; whereupon they took the old man, and made him
Emperor, calling him Great Caan, which continues to this day. To try
the loyalty of his nobility, he summoned them together and ordered
them to smite off the heads of their eldest sons with their own hands;
which they accordingly did. After this convincing proof he sent them
forth, and conquered all the countries around him; together with the
land of Catha, and then died, leaving his eldest son Chico Emperor
whose grandeur made him the greatest Emperor in the World.

This Caan is great, and may expend forty millions yearly; but his
money is made of leather, for he builds his palaces of silver: in his
presence chamber is a gold pillar, in which is fixed a carbuncle that
gives continual light in the dark; his subjects have as many wives
as they please: some have forty, fifty, an hundred, or more; and they
marry their relations, except mothers, sisters, and daughters. Men and
women go all in one sort of apparel. When the Emperor dies he is put
in a cart, and placed in the midst of a tent, and they set before him
a table furnished with meat and mare's milk and close by it a horse
saddled and bridled, loaded with gold and silver; and having dug a
deep pit, they lay him in it, with all the stuff about him, and also
the horse, mare and colt, that he may not want for horses in another
world, and one of his Chamberlains is buried alive with him, that he
may do him service in another world.

CHAP. 7.


Travelling from thence I came to the land of Gorgy, where dwell
many Christians. A great part of this Country is hid with perpetual
darkness; nevertheless they have often heard the crowing of cocks,
the cries of men, the trampling of horse, and clashing of arms, though
none know what sort of people they are; but it is said, a bloody
minded Emperor who pursued the Christians to put them to death, and
was opposed by the hand of heaven, and the land covered with darkness,
so that he could pursue them no longer; but remains with his host in
continual darkness.

Then I travelled to the land of Bactrine, where are many marvels.
Trees bearing wool, with which they make Cloth. Likewise creatures
that are half horses, living sometimes in water, and sometimes on
land, and they devour men when they meet with them. There I have seen
griffins, and the fore part like an eagle, and the hinder parts like
a lion. There is likewise another kind of griffin much larger and
stronger than the former; also a great number of wild animals of all

CHAP. 8.


From thence I went to the Country of Prestor John, who is a noble Lord
and wedded the only daughter of the Great Caan. Such plenty of rich
stones and diamonds there is in this country that they make them into
Cups and dishes. In this land is a gravelly sea, which ebbs and flows
like the ocean, yet not one drop of water is to be seen therein, yet
never the less men catch fishes in it. A sand runs in three days in a
week, among which are found many rubbies. Trees grow from sun rising
to mid day, bearing apples that are harder than iron, which fall into
the earth at noon successfully each day. Here are wild men, who are
very hairy, with horns on their heads, they speak not but roar like

At Pitan, a place in this Kingdom, are men very small, but not so
small as the Pigmies. They live on the smell of Apples. On another
island are men overgrown with feathers, like the fowls of the air.
Near the river Poison there is an enchanted valley between two hills;
here are tempests and storms like shrieks and cries so that they call
it the Valley of Devils; both day and night the sound of musick and
much feasting is heard in it; it also contains great store of gold and
silver, for the lucre of which, many have gone into it but never came
back again. Beyond this valley is the isle of Girty, where men are 40
feet high, and sheep bigger than oxen.

The Emperor Prestor John when he goes to battle hath three golden
Crosses carried before him, set with precious stones, and each cross
guarded by One Thousand fighting men. He has a most superb palace, and
seven Kings, seventy two Dukes, three hundred Earls, and thirty two
bishops to wait upon him every day.

Beyond this place is a large wilderness, in which grow speaking Trees,
called The Trees of the Sun and Moon; and whoever eats of the fruit
thereof live four or five hundred years; and some never die. These
trees foretold Alexander his death. I would willingly have gone to see
them, but was prevented by lions, dragons, etc.

The reason of this Emperor's being called Prestor John was as follows;
He happened in his progress to go into a Christian Church in Egypt,
on the Saturday after Whitsunday, when the Bishop gave Orders; and he
asked who they were that stood before the Bishop? the answer was, They
are priests. Then said he, I will no longer be called Emperor, but
according to the name of the first that comes forth, whose name was
John. Therefore the Emperors of that country ever since have been
called Prestor John.

Towards the East of this place is an island wherein is a mountain of
gold dust, kept by pismires, whose industerous labours is to part the
fine from the coarse. They are larger than the English hounds, and it
is difficult for any one to gain the treasure, through fear of them,
for they sting to death.

Near this place is a dark Wilderness, full of mountains and craggy
rocks, no manner of light appearing to distinguish the day from night.
Beyond this is the Paradise where Adam and Eve were, whose ground
is the highest in the world. The Flood was not so high as this
mountain.--No man can come to the Paradise by land for huge rocks and
mountains, nor by sea for restless waves and dangerous waters; some
that have attempted it have been struck dead, others blind.

This Prester John and his people are baptized, hold with Three Persons
in the Trinity, and are very devout in what they profess. They have
plenty of Cattle; and the land is divided into twenty two provinces,
every one of which hath a king. In this Country also is a gravelly sea
containing the like wonders in that before mentioned.

Towards the east side of Prester John lies the Island of Taprabone,
being a very pleasant and spacious place, abounding with unspeakable
plenty, and all manner of rich fruits and spice. The king of this
Country pays obedience and is subject to Prester John; to whom he pays
a very large revenue. This king is always made by election. To our
wonderful admiration here are two summers and two winters every year;
they have two harvests, and as for their herbs and flowers they always
flourish. The people are of a kind and loving disposition, being
for the most part of them Christian professors; whose laws, customs,
manners, and actions are as reasonable as their profession; to which
they adhere very strictly.

Between Prester John's Country and this island is a small river
that men wade over from country to Country, without danger of being

These islands and kingdoms of Prester John are directly under the
earth, from England. We are foot to foot I can assure the reader,
from the great experience of my long travels; of which I at last grew
weary, and being desirous once more to see the land of my nativity,
and accordingly I set sail for England, and after a very favourable
passage, arrived safe on my native shore, to the great joy and
satisfaction of all my friends. And since my arrival, have been
employed by the help of my journals, in compiling this book, which
gives an account of what I have seen in my travels, some of which for
their strangeness may seem incredible; but those that will not believe
the truth of these things, let them but read the book of Mappa Mundi,
and they will find a great part of it there continued; and great many
stranger things than are here recited.


  _The Surprizing_


  _and most Strange_




  Of the City of York, Mariner.


An Account how he was cast on Shore by Shipwreck (none escaping but
himself) on an uninhabited Island, on the Coast of America near the
mouth of the great River Oroonoque, where he lived twenty eight Years,
till at length he was strangely delivered by Pirates, and brought Home
to his native Country.



From Defoe's original edition of three volumes in 1719, to the
12mo Chap-book, is a great drop, and, naturally, the story is much
condensed. As it is so well known, only the illustrations are given,
which in this edition are quainter than in the earlier one published
at Aldermary Churchyard.



[Illustration: THE WRECK.]


[Illustration: ADVENT OF FRIDAY.]



  A Brief Relation of the



  =M. Bamfyeld Moore Carew=

  _For more than forty Years past the_




This Chap-book gives a very fair account of the adventures of this
misguided man, who so wasted his fair natural abilities. It is hardly
worth giving _in extenso_, but, as generally, his eventful life is
not much known, it may be interesting to give the story, and some

Bamfylde Moore (so named from his two godfathers) Carew was the son
of a clergyman near Tiverton, and was born in 1693. While at Tiverton
School, he and some of his schoolmates got into serious trouble for
hunting a deer, and, rather than face the certain chastisement, they
ran away, and joined a company of gipsies, with whom Carew abode. He
swindled a lady out of twenty guineas by pretending to tell her where
a treasure was buried, and generally followed the bad example of his
companions, until the fancy took him to return home. He did so; but
the fascination of his wild life was too great, and he once more ran
away and joined his beloved gipsies. His disguises were innumerable,
and he even feigned madness successfully, at all events in a
monetary point of view. Once, when disguised as a rat-catcher (see
frontispiece), he was recognized, and a gentleman present, one Mr.
Pleydell, said he had often wished to see him, but never had. "Yes,
you have, replied Carew, and given me a suit of cloaths; do you not
remember meeting a poor wretch one day at your stable door, with a
stocking round his head, an old mantle over his shoulders, without
shirt, stocking or scarce any shoes, who told you he was a poor
unfortunate man cast away upon the coast with sixteen more of the
crew, who were all drowned; you believing this story, generously
relieved me with a guinea and a good suit of cloaths. Mr. Pleydell
said he well remembered it, but on his discovery it is impossible to
deceive him so again, come in whatever shape you will--The company
blamed him for thus boasting, and secretly prevailed upon Carew to put
his art in practice to convince him of the fallacy thereof; to which
he agreed, and in a few days after, appointing the company present to
be at Pleydell's house, he put the following scheme into execution.
He shaved himself closely, and cloathed himself in an old woman's
apparel, with a high crowned hat, and a large dowde under his chin;
then taking three children from among his fraternity, he tied two
to his back, and one in his arms; thus accoutred he comes to Mr.
Pleydell's door, and pinching one of the brats, set it a roaring; this
gave the alarm to the dogs who came out with open mouths and the whole
family was soon alarmed; out came the maid, saying, Carry away the
children, good woman, they disturb the ladies.--God bless their
ladyships, I am the poor unfortunate grandmother of these helpless
infants, whose mother and all they had, was burnt at the dreadful
fire at Kirton, and hope the good ladies, for God's sake, will bestow
something on the poor famishing starving infants. In goes the maid
with this affecting story to the ladies, while our grandmother keeps
pinching the children to make them cry, and the maid returned with
half a crown and some good broth, which he thankfully received, and
went into the court yard to sit down to eat it, as perceiving the
gentlemen were not at home. He had not been long there before they
came, when one of them accosted him thus--Where do you come from,
old woman?--From Kirton, please your honours, where the poor unhappy
mother of these helpless infants was burnt in the flames, and all they
had, consumed.--Damn you said one of them, here has been more money
collected for Kirton than ever Kirton was worth; however, they each
gave the old grandmother a shilling, commiserating the hard case of
her and the helpless infants; which he thankfully receiving, pretended
to go away; but the gentlemen were hardly got into the house before
their ears were saluted with a Tantivee, Tantivee, and a Holloo to
the dogs, on which they turned about, supposing it to be some other
sportmen, but seeing nobody, they directly suspected it to be Carew,
in the disguise of the old Kirton Grandmother; so, bidding the
servants fetch her back, she was brought into the parlour among them
all, and confessed herself to be the famous Mr. Bamfylde Moore Carew,
to the astonishment and mirth of them all; who well rewarded him for
the diversion he had afforded them."

This is a fair specimen of his tricks, and he was very successful in
duping the not-over-acute country gentlemen of his time. On the death
of Clause Patch, the king of the gipsies, he was elected to succeed
him; and there the Chap-book leaves him.

His after career was very chequered. Soon after his accession to regal
dignity, he was apprehended as an idle vagrant, tried at the quarter
sessions at Exeter, and transported to Maryland, where on his arrival
he ran away. He, however, gave himself up, and was severely punished
with a cat-o'-nine-tails, and had a heavy iron collar fastened round
his neck. He excited the pity of some ships' captains, who helped him
to fly, by giving him some biscuits, cheese, and rum; he travelled
some time until he fell in with some friendly Indians, who relieved
him of his iron collar. He gave them the slip, and stealing one of
their canoes, landed near Newcastle, in Pennsylvania. Here he plied
his old trade of deception, pretending to be a Quaker, and made it pay
very well. Thence he got to New York, and set sail for England, where
he rejoined his beloved gipsies. His ultimate fate is unknown, but he
is said to have died in 1770, aged 77.

There seem to have been at least two books written about him during
his lifetime--"Accomplish'd Vagabond, or compleat Mumper, exemplify'd
in the bold and artful Enterprizes, and merry Pranks of Bamfylde
Carew" (Oxon., 1745); and "An Apology for the Life of Bamfylde Moore
Carew (by Robert Goadby)" (London, 1749).

_The Fortunes and Misfortunes of_

=Moll Flanders=


And during a life of Continued Variety for Sixty Years was 17 times
a W---- 5 Times a Wife, whereof once to her own Brother, 12 Years
a Thief, 11 Times in Bridewell, 9 Times in New Prison, 11 Times in
Woodstreet Compter, 6 Times in the Poultry Compter, 14 Times in the
Gate house, 25 Times in Newgate, 15 Times Whipt at the Carts tail,
4 Times Burnt in the Hand, once Condemned for Life, and 8 Years a
Transport in Virginia. At last grew rich, lived honest, and died



Defoe wrote "Moll Flanders" in 1721, and his book is chiefly
remarkable for the graphic account of the plantations in Virginia.
This Chap-book is a condensed version, and is not very edifying
reading. Its contents may be imagined by the titlepage, which is far
fuller than Defoe's.










  By other's harm learn to be wise
  And ye shall do full well.



[Illustration: GEORGE BARNWELL.]

And behold there met him an Harlot, subtle of heart; and she kissed
him, and said unto him, I have decked my bed with fine linen, come let
us take our fill of love until the Morning.

[Illustration: SARAH MILLWOOD.]

The lips of a strange Woman drop as an honeycomb, and her mouth
is sweeter than oil; but her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a
two-edged sword.

Editions of this popular story were published in several towns,
and the present one has been chosen as having the most curious
illustrations, there being none specially illustrated to exemplify
the text, any female head doing duty for Sarah Milwood. The story of
George Barnwell, of his lapse from virtue, and his rapid declension
from theft to murder, together with his penitence and execution, is so
well known that it needs no repetition. It is a very old story, dating
back, it is said, to Queen Elizabeth's time. The earliest ballad on
the subject in the British Museum is,[24] "An excellent ballad of
George Barnwell, an apprentice in the City of London, who was undone
by a strumpet, who caused him thrice to rob his master and murder his
uncle in Ludlow" (London, 1670). Lillo dramatized it in 1731, and
within very few years since it was always acted at the minor theatres
on Boxing night, previous to the pantomime, as a warning to

    [Footnote 24: (643, m. 10)/109.]


  =Merry Life and Mad Exploits=



  _The great Robber of England_.

  [Illustration: The true Portraiture
  of Captain
  the Robber, who
  died, for Treason.


The history of the famous highwayman Captain Hind, is evidently taken
from a little black-letter book, published 1651, Old Style (or 1652 of
our calendar), called "Wit for Money;" and in that also is found the
original of this frontispiece, even more roughly executed. In place of
"The true portraiture," etc., is

  "I rob'd men neatly
  as is here exprest.
  Coyne I ne'r tooke
  unlesse I gave a Jest."

Indeed, most of the accounts of Hind are full of his "merry pranks,"
as, for instance, "We have brought our Hogs to a fair Market; or
Strange Newes from New-Gate," etc. (London, 1652), a book which was
of such importance, that two pages of "The Faithful Scout" for January
9/16, 1651-2, are taken up with extracts from it. In this book are two
portraits of Hind, which, from their resemblance to each other, are
probably authentic. In one he is represented as "Unparallel'd Hind,"
in full armour on horseback; the other is similar to that given on
next page, which is taken from "The Declaration of Captain James Hind
(close Prisoner in Newgate)," etc.

In "The True and perfect Relation of the taking of Captain James Hind"
(London, 1651), it says that "A Gentleman or two, desired so much
favour of him [the keeper], as to aske Mr. Hind a civil question;
which was granted. So pulling two books out of his pocket, the one
entituled, Hind's Ramble, The other Hind's Exploits, asked him whether
he had ever seen them or not: He answered, yes; And said upon the word
of a Christian, they were fictions: But some merry Pranks and Revels
I have plaid, that I deny not." Nay, his exploits were even dramatized
in "An excellent Comedy called the Prince of Priggs Revels or The
Practises of that grand Thief Captain James Hind," etc. (London,
1651). A play in five acts.

Hind was born at Chipping Norton, in Oxfordshire, and, according to
one account, his father was a saddler. He was sent to school, but
being too fond of play, he was apprenticed to a butcher, from whom
he ran away, and came to London, where he fell in with "a Company of
idle, roaring young Blades," and he became a highwayman. The Chap-book
is full of his robberies, and introduces "How Hind was enchanted by an
old Hagg, for the space of Three Years," a performance which seems
to have provided for his personal safety during that time. Finding
England too hot for him, he went to Holland; but "Hind finding that
this country was not fit for his purpose, resolved to retire as soon
as an opportunity offered," and he went to Scotland to join Charles I.
The king put him under the command of the Duke of Buckingham, "because
his own life guards were full," and he was present at the engagements
at Warrington and Worcester. He escaped from the latter, and came to
London, where he was apprehended on November 6, 1651, in a barber's
shop in Fleet Street. He was examined at Whitehall on the charge of
rebellion, and committed to Newgate. On December 12, 1651, he was
tried at the Old Bailey, and remanded to Newgate, where he lay till
March 1, 1652, when he was sent to Reading to take his trial for
killing a companion at a village called Knowl. It was, however, proved
to have been only a case of manslaughter, and he was pardoned through
an Act of Oblivion; only, however, to suffer death for treason against
the State, being hanged, drawn, and quartered, at Worcester, on
September 24, 1652.


  [The true

  of Captain
  _James Hind_.

_London_, Printed for _G. HORTON_, 1651.]







_Who took up their Abode in a Cave near to the Sea Side, in Clovaley
in Devonshire, where they liv'd Twenty five Years without so much as
once going to visit any City or Town._

_How they Robbed above One Thousand Persons, and murdered, and eat all
whom they robbed._

_How at last they were happily discover'd by a pack of Blood hounds;
and how John Gregg, his Wife, Eight Sons, Six Daughters, Eighteen
Grand Sons and Fourteen Grand daughters were all seized and executed,
by being Cast alive into three Fires, and were burnt._


This Chap-book is precisely similar to the History of Sawney Beane,
who lived _temp._ James I., only the names and locality have been
changed. The lovers of horrors can be fully gratified by reading
Sawney Beane's life, either in Captain Charles Johnson's "History of
the Lives and Actions of the most famous Highwaymen, Street Robbers,"
etc., 8vo (Edinburgh, 1813), pp. 33-37, or vol. i. p. 161 of "The
Terrific Registers."




  _A Dreadful Warning_




A sad and dreadful Account of one John Gill in the Town of Oborn
[Woburn] in Bedfordshire, who lived a Wicked Life.

How, coming home drunk one Night, he asked his Father for Money to
carry on his Debaucheries, who putting him off till next Morning, he
grew so impatient and desparately wicked, that he arose in the Dead of
the Night, and cut his Father, and Mother's Throats in their Beds.

How afterwards binding and ravishing the Maid Servant he murdered
her also, and then robbed the House of Plate and Money, and set it on
Fire, burning the dead Bodies to Ashes.

With the Manner of the Discovery, and being apprehended, what
Confession he made before the Magistrates.

How the Ghosts of the dead Bodies appeared to him in Jail.

Together with his Dying Speech at the Place of Execution.

With several other Things, worthy the Observation of Young People.



_In Four Parts_.

Part 1. How one John Roper, through want of Grace, broke the Heart
of his Mother, and strangled his Father, taking what Money was in the
House, and fled to a Wood.

Part 2. How the Spirit of his Mother appeared to him in a Wood, in an
Angry manner; and how Conscience drove him into the hands of Justice.

Part 3. His Lamentation in Dorchester Gaol.

Part 4. His last dying Speech desiring all Young Men to take Warning
by him.

To which is added, A Notable Poem upon the uncertainty of Man's Life.

_Licensed according to Order._



  =Horrors of Jealousie=



Being a Terrible and Dreadful Relation of one Jonathan Williams, a
Gentleman of a Considerable Fortune near Sittingburn in Kent, who
had a Beautiful and Virtuous young Lady to his Wife, who disgusting a
light Huswife, her Chamber Maid, she vowed a Bloody Revenge upon her
Mistress; then forged a Letter to make her Master Jealous: When one
Day, as the Plot was laid, sending up the Butler into her Bed Chamber
when she was in Bed, and sent her Master after him; who immediately
killed him with his Sword, and afterward did the like by his Wife,
protesting her Innocency with her dying Breath; upon which horrible
Tragedy the Chamber Maid confessed her Treachery, shewing her Lady's
Innocency; upon this he killed her, and after fell upon his own Sword
and died.


_The Copy of the LETTER, and all the Circumstances attending so
Tragical an End; and how upon the sight of this Bloody Tragedy their
only Son and Heir run Distracted and Died Raving Mad._





  _Being a full and true Relation_


  =Madam Butler=

A young Gentlewoman, and a great Heiress at Hackney Boarding School,
who being by her Father forced to Marry Mr. Harvey, a Rich Merchants
Son near Fanchurch Street, against her Will; one Mr. Perpoint, a young
Gentleman of Considerable Estate, who had courted her above two Years,
grew so Discontented that he went a Volunteer to the wars in Spain,
where being Mortally Wounded at the late Battle of Almanza he writ
a Letter with his own Blood, therein putting a Bracelet of Madam
Butler's Hair, and then ordering his Servant to bake his Heart to a
Powder after his death, he charg'd him to deliver them in a Box to the
above-said Gentlewoman. His Man came to England, and went on 6th June
to deliver the Present to Madam Butler, but it was took away by her
Husband, who gave her the Powder in a Dish of Tea; which when she knew
what she had Drank, and saw the bloody Letter and Bracelet, she said
it was the last she would ever Eat and Drink, and accordingly going to
Bed, she was found dead in the Morning, with a copy of _VERSES_ lying
by her on a Table, written in her own Blood.


_A Looking Glass for Swearers, Drunkards, Blasphemers, Sabbath
Breakers, Rash Wishers, and Murderers._

Being a True Relation of one Elizabeth Hale, in Scotch Yard in White
Cross Street; who having Sold herself to the Devil to be reveng'd on
her Neighbours, did on Sunday last, in a wicked manner, put a quantity
of Poyson into a Pot where a Piece of Beef was a boyling for several
Poor Women and Children, Two of which dropt down dead, and Twelve more
are dangerously Ill; the Truth of which will be Attested by several in
the Neighbourhood. Her Examination upon the Crowners Inquest and her
Commitment to Newgate.

A Full and True Account of a horrid, barbarous and bloody Murder,
committed on the Body of one Jane Greenway and Four of her Children,
by Robert Greenway her Husband, on Sunday last being the 2nd of this
instant January, near Beaconsfield in Buckinghamshire. His Examination
before the Worshipful Justice Lewis Esqre of Beaconsfield, and his
commitment to Ailsbury Gaol. Note the Truth of this will be Attested
by the Beaconsfield Carriers that comes to the Bell in Warwick Lane.

Likewise an Account of several Damages and other Accidents that have
happen'd in Town and Country, by the present great Frost and Snow.
First Four Men that were lost in a Boat going from Gravesend to the
Buoy of the Nore. 2dly. Two Boys that were drown'd by sliding on the
River of Thames. 3rdly. Two men drown'd at Battersea. 4thly. A Farrier
that dropt down dead off his Horse near Paddington, as he was going
Home. 5thly. A Gentleman in Surry that was found dead on Horseback at
his own Door. 6thly. A Carrier that was lost on the North Road with
two of his Horses.


An Account of a dreadful Fire that happen'd on Sunday Morning at the
Cock Pit near Grays Inn; where one of the Feeders was burnt, and the
other missing.


A True and Amazing Relation of one Mr. B----l an Eminent Butcher in
White Chapple; who having made a Vow never to kill any Cattel on a
Sabbath Day, and on Sunday Night last, as he was opening the Bowels
of a Calf, there issued out of its Paunch a dreadful flash of Fire
and Brimstone; which burnt his Wigg, and His Apprentice's Face and Eye
Brows in a sad and dismal manner.


  _Farther, and more Terrible
  Warnings from God._

  Being a sad and dismal Account of a dreadful
  Earthquake or Marvelous Judgments
  of God.

_That happen'd between Newcastle and Durham on Tuesday the 24th day of
August last; which burst open the Earth with such Violence, that near
an Hundred Souls, Men, Women and Children were Kill'd and Destroy'd;
being Buried Alive in the sad and dreadful Ruins thereof. Besides
great Damage to many Houses and Persons for several Miles round. With
the Names of some of the Persons Destroy'd thereby. With a Sermon
Preach'd on that deplorable Occasion, and of the late dreadful Thunder
and Lightning._




  =The Constant Couple.=



_Being a True and Mournful Relation of one Mrs. Sophia Elford, a Young
Lady near St. James's, that Poyson'd herself for love of a Captain in
Flanders; who hearing that her Lover was kill'd, and not having any
Account from him since the Campaign, on Monday last being the 21st of
this Instant, she took a strong Dose of Poyson that ended her Life._


How the same Night she was Buried, there came a Letter from her Lover,
giving an Account of his being now a Prisoner in France; which her
Parents receiv'd and having read the same, they fell into a greater
Agony of Grief than before.


The Melancholly Answer they return'd him back, and the Copies of
several Endearing Letters that have pass'd between these Unfortunate
Lovers this Campaign.


  _The Distressed Child in the Wood_;



True and dismal Relation of one Esq: Solmes of Beverly in Yorkshire;
who dying left an only Infant Daughter, of the Age of two Years,
to the care of his own Brother; who with many Oaths, Vows, and
Protestations promised to be Loving to her; but the Father was no
sooner Dead, but out of a wicked Covetousness of the Child's Estate of
three hundred Pounds a Year, carry'd it into a Wood, and there put it
into a Hollow Tree to Starve it to Death; Where a Gentleman and his
Man being a Hunting two days after, found it half Famish'd, having
gnawed its own Flesh and Fingers end in a dreadful manner.

With an Account how the Cruel Unkle to hide his Villany, had caused
the Child's Effigies to be buried in Wax, and made a great Funeral, as
if it had been really Dead; with the manner of the whole Discovery by
a Dream, and taking the Wax Child out of the Grave; with the Unkle's
Apprehension, Examination, Confession before Justice Stubbs, and his
Commitment to Gaol, in order to be Try'd the next Assizes, for that
Barbarous Action. To which is added a Copy of Verses on the said




Being an Account of the Birth, Parentage, Education, Life and
Conversation of Mr. Edward Jefferies, who was Executed at Tyburn
on Friday the 21st of December 1705, for the Murther of Mr. Robert
Woodcock the Lawyer. With an Account of his being Clerk to a Lawyer in
Clifford's Inn; the many Pranks he has play'd after he came out of his
time; his Marriage; and spending an Estate of One Hundred a year,
on Leud Women; with the manner of Murthering Mr. Woodcock; his
being Apprehended, Committed to Newgate; his Tryal, Examination,
Condemnation, with a true Copy of his Reprieve, and last Dying Speech
and Confession at the Place of Execution.






  =Miss Davis=



_With a full, true and particular Account of her robbing Mr. W. of
Gosfield in Essex of Eleven Hundred Pounds in Cash and Bank Notes for
which she now lays to take her Trial at Chelmsford Assizes._



The Chap-book version and the _Annual Register_ agree as to Frances
Davis's story, but, as the latter is more concise and truthful, it is
here given:

"Sep. 3, 1785. An extraordinary robbery was committed last Saturday
morning at Mrs. Bennet's the sign of the Three Rabbits on the Rumford
Road. Mr. W---- of Gosfield in Essex, who is agent for the Scots and
Lincolnshire salesmen, came to the above house on the evening before,
in order to proceed to Smithfield market, with upwards of eleven
hundred pounds, in drafts and bank notes, besides a purse containing
162 guineas and a half in his pocket. He went to bed early that night,
and placed the above property in his breeches beneath his head. A
youth, genteelly dressed, lay in the same room, and found means to
convey the notes and money from under Mr. W----'s pillow, and departed
with the whole, before break of day.--At seven o'clock, Mr. W----
discovered the theft; and sent immediately to all the different public
offices in London. After a long search, a woman was taken into custody
yesterday morning, at an obscure lodging in the Mint, Southwark, who,
upon examination, was discovered to be the identical person who had
taken up her quarters at Mrs. Bennet's on Friday night. Eight Hundred
pounds in Notes and Cash were found concealed in her cloaths. She was
soon after carried to the public office in Bow Street, where the
Notes were sworn to by Mr. W---- and her person ascertained by the
chambermaid of the inn. Her boy's apparel was also produced. She
denied any knowledge of the transaction with great composure, and was
committed to Tothill fields Bridewell. It appeared in course of the
evidence, that on her coming to town she had changed some of the notes
at different shops, and had on Saturday last visited a female convict
in Newgate, to whom she had made a present of a pair of silver buckles
and other trifling articles. The name of the above offender is Davis;
she is extremely handsome, and not more than eighteen years of age.
It is said she is connected with a numerous gang, and has long been
employed in robberies similar to the above."


Neither the Chap-book nor the _Annual Register_ give her ultimate
fate, but there can be little doubt that it was that so vividly
portrayed in the frontispiece. A portrait is given as hers. It may
be: but the practice of using any blocks that came handy renders it
doubtful; besides, the costume is too early for the period.




Who was burnt at a Stake, in the Old Bailey, on Wednesday the 18th
of March 1789 for High Treason, in feloniously and traitorously
counterfeiting the Silver Coin of the Realm.

_Containing her Birth and Parentage, youthful Adventures, Love Amours,
fatal Marriage, unhappy Connections, and untimely Death._




This book is specially interesting, as being an account of the last
execution by burning in England.

There is nothing uncommon in her story. Originally a servant, she
married, but was deserted by her husband; she then lived with a man
named Murphy, a coiner. Of course they were found out, tried, and
condemned to death. The man was hanged, and the woman, according
to the then law, was burned. Blackstone gives the following curious
reason for this punishment:--"In treasons of every kind the punishment
of the woman is the same, and different from that of men. For as the
decency due to the sex forbids the exposing and public mangling their
bodies, the sentence is, to be drawn to the gallows, and there to be
burned alive." The law was altered by 30 George III. c. 48 (1790),
which provided that after June 5, 1790, women under this sentence
should be hanged.

It must be borne in mind that the culprits were strangled before
burning (Christian Bowman was hanging forty minutes); although, by
the carelessness of the executioner, one woman, Katherine Hayes, was
actually burned alive at Tyburn, November 3, 1726.




  _Giving an Account_

First, Of a Gentleman having a wild Son, and foreseeing he would come
to poverty, had a cottage built with one door to it, always kept fast.
His father on his Dying bed, charged him not to open it 'till he was
poor and slighted, which the young man promised he would perform.
Secondly, Of this young man's pawning his estate to a Vintner, who
when poor, kicked him out of doors. Thinking it time to see his
Legacy, he broke open the door, when instead of money, found a Gibbet
and Halter, which he put round his Neck, and jumping off the Stool,
the Gibbet broke, and a Thousand Pounds came down upon his head,
which lay hid in the Ceiling. Thirdly of his redeeming the Estate; and
fooling the Vintner out of Two Hundred Pounds, who for being jeered
by his neighbours, cut his own throat. And lastly, Of the young Man's

_Very proper to be read by all who are given to Drunkenness._



As the title is so voluminous and exhaustive, it is unnecessary to
reproduce any of the text, and the three following illustrations tell
their own story very well.




  =Good News for=



A strange and remarkable _ACCOUNT_ how a stranger in bright Raiment
appeared to one Farmer Edwards near Lancaster, on the 12th of last
Month, at night; containing the discourse that past between the said
Farmer and the Stranger, who foretold what a wonderful Year of Plenty
this will be, and how wheat will be sold for four shillings a bushel,
and barley for two shillings this Year; all which was confirmed to the
Farmer by four wonderful signs.





  A Blind Man and Death





The argument of this metrical dialogue is that Death comes to a blind
man, who asks him his name and business, and on hearing it, tries to
escape from him. Death, however, explains matters to him, and brings
him into such a seraphic state of mind that he exclaims--

  "Now welcome Death upon my Saviour's score
  Who would not die to live for ever more.


  Sir, I perceive you speak not without reason,
  I'll leave you now and call some other season.


  Call when you please, I will await that call,
  And while I can make ready for my fall;
  In the mean time my constant prayers shall be,
  From sudden and from endless Death, good Lord deliver me."


_DEVIL upon two STICKS_



With the Comical Humours of Don Stulto and Siegnior Jingo; As it is
acted in Pinkeman's Booth in May Fair.



This is a condensed version of a portion of Le Sage's famous "Diable
Boiteux," only substituting Don Stulto for Don Cleofas, and Siegnor
Jingo for Asmodeus. There is nothing about Pinkeman (details of whose
life would be interesting) in the book. This worthy seems first to
have acted at the Theatre Royal in 1692, in the play of "Volunteers,
or the Stock Jobbers," where he had the part of Taylor (six lines
only). He afterwards was a useful member of Drury Lane Company, and
had booths, as had also Dogget, in Bartholomew and May fairs; in fact,
he notices his ill success at the latter in the epilogue to the "Bath"
(Drury Lane, 1701). He there said that he had made grimaces to empty
benches, while Lady Mary, the rope-dancer, had carried all before her
at May fair--

  "Gadzooks--what signified my face?"

His value as an actor may be taken from a play presumably by Gildon,
"Comparison between the Two Stages," printed 1702:

  "_Sullen._ But Pinkethman the flower of----

  _Critick._ Bartholomew Fair, and the idol of the rabble; a
  fellow that overdoes everything, and spoils many a part by his
  own stuff."

He died 1740.






A Lion falling sick, all the beasts went to see him except the Fox,
upon which the Lion sent for him, telling him he wanted to see
him, and his presence would be acceptable. Moreover he desired
the messenger to assure the Fox that for several reasons he had no
occasion to be afraid of him, since the Lion loved the Fox very well,
and therefore desired to see him; besides he lay so sick, he could
not stir to do the Fox any harm. The Fox returned an obliging answer,
desiring the messenger to acquaint the Lion, he was very desirous of
his recovery, and he would pray to the Gods for it; but desired to be
excused for his not coming to see him as the other beasts had done;
for truly, says he, the traces of their feet frighten me, all of them
going towards the palace but none coming back.



A Stag, who was hard pursued, ran into a Vineyard, and took shelter
under a Vine; when he thought his enemies were gone, and the danger
over, he fell to, browsing on the leaves; the rustling of the boughs
gave a suspicion to the huntsmen, and on search he was discovered
and Shot, and as he was dying he said, How justly am I punished for
offering to destroy my shade.





As some Geese and Cranes were feeding in a Countrymans Corn field, he
heard their noise, and came presently out upon them. The Cranes seeing
the man fled for it, but the Geese staid and were caught.




When an army had been routed, a trumpeter was taken prisoner, and as
the soldiers were going to kill him, Gentlemen, says he, why should
you kill a man that hurts nobody? You shall die the rather for that,
says one of the company, when like a rascal you don't fight yourself,
you set other people by the ears.




A poor innocent Stork happened to be taken in a net that was laid
for geese and cranes. The Storks plea was simplicity and the love
of mankind, together with the service she did in picking up venemous
creatures--It is all true says the husbandman, but they that keep ill
company, if they are catched with them, must suffer with them.




A Flight of Wasps and a covey of Partridges being hard put to it for
water, went to a farmer to beg some. The partridges offered to dig his
vineyard for it, and the Wasps to secure it from thieves. Pray hold
your peace says the farmer, I have oxen and dogs to perform those
offices already, and I am resolved to provide for them first.



A Daw took particular notice that the Pigeons in the Dove House were
well provided for, so went and painted himself of a dove colour and
fed among the Pigeons. So long as he kept silence, it passed very
well, but forgetting himself he fell a chattering--On which discovery
they beat him out of the house, and on his returning to his own
companions, they also rejected him.





A Fox and Snake meeting, she began to entertain the Fox with a long
story concerning the beauties and colours of her skin. The Fox, weary
of the discourse, interrupted her, and said, The beauties of the mind
were better than those of a painted outside.




The Chough and the Swallow fell into a warm dispute about beauty, and
the Swallow insisted mightily on hers, and claimed the advantage. Nay
says the Chough, you forget that your beauty decays with the Spring,
whereas mine lasts all the year.




An honest man who had the misfortune to have contentious children,
endeavoured to reconcile them; and one day having them before him,
he bought a bundle of sticks, then desired each of them to break it,
which they strove to do, but could not. Well, said he, unbind it, and
take every one a single stick, and try what you can do that way. They
did so, and with ease they snapped all the sticks. The father said
to them, Children, your condition is exactly like unto that bundle of
sticks; for if you hold together you are safe, but if you divide you
are undone.




A Fox that had been run hard, begged of a countryman, whom he saw hard
at work in a wood, to help him to a hiding place. The man directed him
to a cottage, and thither he went. He was no sooner got in, but the
Huntsmen were at his heels, and asked the cottager, If he did not see
the Fox that way? No, said he, I saw none; but pointed with his finger
to the place. Though the Huntsmen did not understand, yet the Fox saw
him; and after they were gone, out steals the Fox; How now, said the
countryman, have you not the manners to take leave of your host? Yes,
said the Fox, if you had been as honest with your fingers, as with
your tongue, I should not have gone without bidding you farewell.




A Fox being closely pursued, took to a hedge, the bushes gave way and
in catching hold of a Bramble to break his fall, he laid himself
down, and fell to licking his paws, making great complaint against
the Bramble. Good words, Reynard, said the Bramble, you should never
expect any kindness from an enemy.







This is really a useful book of recipes, although some of them are
scarcely in use now. A few examples may be acceptable.


Cut off the Wings and Neck close, leave the Skin at the Neck to
tie close, then having some grated Bread, two Pidgeons Livers, one
Anchovy, a Quarter of a Pound of Butter, half a Nutmeg grated, a
little Pepper and Salt, a very little Thyme and Sweet Marjoram shred;
mix all together, put a piece as big as a Walnut into each Pidgeon,
sew up their Rumps and Necks, strew a little Pepper Salt and Nutmeg on
the Out side, broil them on a very slow Charcoal Fire on the Hearth;
baste and turn them very often. Sauce is melted Butter; or rich Gravy,
if you like it higher tasted.


Take a Quarter of a Pint of Claret, and as much Water, some grated
Bread, two or three heads of Rocumbile, or a Shallot, a little whole
Pepper, Mace, sliced Nutmeg, and Salt; Let this stew very well over
the Fire, then beat it up with butter, and pour it under the Wild
Fowl, which being under roasted, will afford Gravy to mix with this


Take a Quart of Cream and boil it, let it stand till it is cold; then
take a Pint of White Wine, pare a Lemon thin, and steep the peel
in the Wine two Hours before you use it; to this add the Juice of
a Lemon, and as much Sugar as will make it very sweet: Put all this
together into a Bason, and whisk it all one way till it is pretty
thick. Fill your Glasses, and keep it a Day before you use it; it will
keep three or four Days. Let your Cream be full Measure, and your
Wine rather less. If you like it perfumed, put in a Grain or two of


Take six Eggs, boil them very hard, and shred them small; shred double
the Quantity of good Suet very fine; put Currants neatly wash'd and
pick'd, one Pound or more, if your Eggs were large; the Peel of one
Lemon very fine shred, half the juice, and five or six Spoonfuls of
Sack, Mace, Nutmeg, Sugar, and a little Salt; and candied Citron or
Orange peel, if you would have them rich."

There are recipes for making "Raisin Elder wine; Sage wine, _very
good_; Raspberry wine, _very good_; Cowslip or Marigold, Gooseberry
and Elder-flower wines"; besides strong Mead and Cinnamon Water, as
well as a curious compound--


Take the Sap of Birch fresh drawn, boil it as long as any Scum arises;
to every Gallon of Liquor put two Pounds of good Sugar; boil it Half
an Hour, and scum it very clean; when 'tis almost cold, set it with
a little Yeast spread on a Toast; let it stand five or six days in an
open Vessel, stirring it often: then take such a Cask as the Liquor
will be sure to fill, and fire a large Match dipt in Brimstone,
and put it into the Cask, and stop in the Smoak till the Match is
extinguished, always keeping it shook; then shake out the Ashes, and,
as quick as possible, pour in a Pint of Sack or Rhenish wine, which
Taste you like best, for the Liquor retains it; rainge the Cask well
with this, and pour it out; pour in your Wine, and stop it close for
Six Months, then, if it is perfectly fine, you may boil it."

  _The Pleasant History of TAFFY'S

  Progress to London; with the

  WELSHMAN'S Catechism._


  Behold in _WHEEL BARROW_ I come to Town
  With Wife and Child to pull the Taffies down
  For sweet _St. DAVID_ shall not be Abus'd
  And by the Rabble yearly thus Misus'd


This octavo is principally taken up with "Taffy's Catechism," which
is in a kind of Welsh _patois_, and is not very interesting. The
frontispiece is explained as under.


"The much renowned Taffy William Morgan having receiv'd a Letter
sent by word of Mouth from London, which gave him an Account how
Despiseable the poor Welshmen alias Britains were made in England on
Saint Tafy's day, by the Rabbles hanging out of a Bundle of Rags in
representation of a Welshman mounted on a red Herring with a Leek in
his Hat, truly poor Morgan's Blood was up, he Fretted and Fum'd till
he Foam'd at Mouth agen, and being exasperated as much as the French
King was Joyful when he first heard of the great Victory obtain'd
by Marshal Tallard over the Duke of Marlborough at Hochstet, he in
a great Passion Swore by the Glory and Renown of all his Ancestors,
famous in the Books of Rates for their being ever chargeable to the
Parish, that he wou'd be Reveng'd on those that thus presum'd to
affront Goatlandshire, and in order thereto he prepar'd for his
Journey, taking Coach in a Wheel Barrow, Drove along by his Wife, who
with a Child at her Back went Barefooted all the way, and by Taffy
were compell'd to take this tedious Journey that they might be
Witnesses to his Prowess and Valour; in case it was questioned by
any after his return to Wales; so accordingly poor William Morgan
ap Renald et Cetera, for his Name would take an hour to tell it at
length, set out for his great Adventures about One in the Morning,
it being the 33th of January last in the year 1890 after the Welsh
Account, making it Six days before he Arriv'd in the abovesaid Pomp
to Leominster, where he and his Wife and Children were charitably
entertain'd in a Barn; the next Day he came to Worcester, where
begging Charity to bear their Charges forwards, poor Taffy and his
Wife were Whipt out of Town; but however this harsh Usage daunted not
his Heart, which all Wales knew for certain to be bigger than a Pea,
for resolv'd he was to be reveng'd still on those that Affronted his
Countrey, and by Cruising all the way he came, he at length reacht
London, just the Eve before the Welshmen's great Festival of Saint
David, which is Solemnis'd with so much Devotion, as to get every
Welshman Drunk by Night, now being Arriv'd in this great City, he
fortunately lit upon some of his Acquaintance who in Commiseration of
his and his Wifes great Poverty made him pretty Boosie, and being Pot
valiant he fell like Fury to breaking of Windows where a Taffy was
hung out, but being first well Beaten by the Mob, he was then sent to
Bridewell for an idle drunken Vagabond, and being well Flaug'd and
put to hard Labour for a while, he and his tatter'd Family were
pass'd down to their Countrey, to his great Grief in that he could
not Vindicate Saint Taffy; and Swearing hur would never see England

_The Whole Life_


Being a true Account of one Mr. Wilson an Eminent Lawyer of the
Temple, who above all things, doated to Distraction on this Simple
Creature; and how he had two children by her, and the means he us'd to
decoy her, and keep the thing secret.

Likewise That by his last Will and Testament which you may find in
Doctors Commons, he has left her six hundred pounds in ready Money,
five hundred pounds a Year in Land, for her and her Heirs for ever,
she being at this time, with Child by him.

And lastly you have a Copy of Verses made on Granny's good Fortune.


_Licensed according to Order._





  =Ned and Harry=


  _Ned giving Harry an Account of his Courtship
  and Marriage State_




A very mild description of the particularly uninteresting courtship
and marriage of a small tradesman and a chambermaid, with the details
of the subsequent hen-pecking the husband underwent, and of his
wife's taste for gossiping, ending up with advice from Ned, and a
determination of Harry's never to marry a chambermaid.




  _Being a Pleasant Account_

Of the Amorous Intrigues, Comical Courtship, Catterwauling and
Surprizing Marriage Ceremonies of Lewis the XIVth with Madam
Maintenon, His late Hackney of State.

_With a List of the Names of those that threw the Stocking on the
Wedding Night and Madam Maintenon's Speech to the King._

As also, a Comical Wedding Song Sung to his Majesty, by the famous
Monsieur La Grice to the Tune of The Dame of Honour.






  Academy of Courtship.
  Arimathea, The History of that Holy Disciple Joseph of.
  Argalus and Parthenia, The History of, being a Choice Flower
          gathered out of Sir Phillip Sidney's Rare Garden.
  Art of Courtship.
  Armstrong, History of Johnny (of Westmoreland).

  Bacon, History of the Learned Friar.
  Barleycorn, The Arraigning and Indicting of Sir John.
  Barnwell, The Tragical History of George.
  Bateman's Tragedy.
  Bellianis, Don, of Greece, The History of.
  Bethnal Green, The History of the Blind Beggar of.
  Bevis, Sir, of Southampton, The History of the Life and Death of
          that most Noble Knight.
  Bloody Tragedy, The, or a Dreadful Warning to Disobedient Children.
  Bowman, Life and Death of Christian.
  Bunch: Mother B.'s Closet newly broke open.
  Bunch: The History of Mother B. of the West (Part II.).

  Cabinet, The Golden.
  Cambridge Jests, being Wit's Recreation.
  Canterbury Tales, by J. Chaucer, Junr.
  Card Fortune-Book.
  Champions, The History of the Seven (Parts I. and II.).
  Charles XII., The History of the Remarkable Life of the Brave and
  Chevy Chase, The Famous and Memorable History of.
  Children in the Wood, The History of.
  Coachman and Footman's Catechism, The.
  Countries, A Brief Character of the Low.
  Courtier: The History of the Frolicksome C. and the Jovial Tinker.
  Crusoe, The Life of Robinson.
  Cupboard Door opened, The, or Joyful News for Apprentices and
  Cupid's Decoy, The Lover's Magazine, or.

  Delights for Young Men and Maids.
  Dialogue, A, between a Blind Man and Death.
  Dialogue, A Choice and Diverting, between Hughson the Cobler and
          Margery his Wife.
  Dialogue between John and Loving Kate (Parts I. and II.).
  Dialogue, A New and Diverting, between a Shoemaker and his Wife.
  Divine Songs.
  Dorastus and Faunia.
  Drake, Voyages and Travels of that Renowned Captain Sir Francis.
  Dreams and Moles, with their Interpretation and Signification.
  Drunkard's Legacy, The.

  Edward the Black Prince, The History of.
  Egyptian Fortune-Teller's Legacy, The Old.
  Elizabeth, History of Queen, and her Great Favourite the Earl of
          Essex (Parts I. and II.).
  England, Antient History of, from the Invasion of Julius Cæsar to
          the Roman Conquest.
  England, The History of, from the Norman Conquest to the Union of
          the Houses of York and Lancaster.
  England, The Present State of; to which is added an Account of the
          New Style.
  Erra Pater.

  Fairy Stories (Blue Bird and Florinda and the King of the Peacocks).
  Faustus, History of Dr. John.
  Figure of Seven, The.
  Flanders, Fortunes and Misfortunes of Moll.
  Fortunatus, History of.
  Fortune-Book, Partridge and Flamsted's New and Well-experienced.
  Fortune-Teller, The High German.
  Franks, Birth, Life, and Death of John.
  Friar and Boy, The (Parts I. and II.).

  George, The Life and Death of Saint.
  Ghost, The Portsmouth.
  Gotham, Merry Tales, or the Wise Men of.
  Grissel, History of the Marquis of Salus and Patient.
  Gulliver, The Travels and Adventures of Captain Lemuel.
  Guy, Earl of Warwick, History of.

  Hector, Prince of Troy, History of.
  Hercules of Greece, History of the Life and Glorious Actions of
          the Mighty.
  Hero and Leander, Famous History of.
  Hero's Garland, The.
  Hickathrift, History of Thomas (Parts I. and II.).
  Hind, Merry Life and Mad Exploits of Captain James.
  Hippolito and Dorinda, Loves of.
  Hocus Pocus, or a New Book of Legerdemain.
  Hood, A True Tale of Robin.
  Horner, History of Jack.

  Jack and the Giants, History of (Parts I. and II.).
  Jack of Newbury, History of.
  Jew, The Wandering, or the Shoemaker of Jerusalem.
  Joak upon Joaks.
  Joseph and his Brethren, History of.

  Kings, History of Four, their Queens and Daughters.

  Lady, The Whimsical.
  Laurence, Lazy, The History of.
  Legerdemain, The Whole Art of.
  Long Meg of Westminster, Whole Life and Death of.
  Long, History of Tom, the Carrier.

  Maiden's Prize, The, or Bachelor's Puzzle.
  Mandeville, The Foreign Travels of Sir John.
  Martyr, History of the Royal, King Charles the First.
  Matrimony, The Whole Pleasures of.
  Merryman, Doctor, or Nothing but Mirth.
  Montellion, The History of.
  Mournful Tragedy, The.

  Nimble and Quick.
  Nixon's Cheshire Prophecy.

  Parismus, Prince of Bohemia, The History of.
  Poets' Jests, or Mirth in Abundance.
  Prentice, The Famous History of the Valiant London.
  Puss in Boots.

  Rarities of Richmond.
  Reading, Directions for, with Elegance and Propriety.
  Reading, History of Thomas of.
  Reynard the Fox, History of.
  Rich Man's Warning-Piece, The, or the Oppressed Infants in Glory.
  Rome, The Famous History of the Seven Wise Masters of.
  Rome, The Famous and Renowned History of the Seven Wise Mistresses
  Rosamond, Life and Death of Fair.

  Shipton, History of Mother.
  Shoemaker's Glory, The, or the Princely History of the Gentle Craft.
  Shore, Life and Death of Mrs. Jane.
  Simple Simon's Misfortunes.
  Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.
  Swalpo, Merry Frolics, or the Comical Cheats of.

  Tom Thumb, The Famous History of (Parts I., II., and III.).
  Tomb Thumb, The Mad Pranks of (Parts I., II., and III.).

  Unfortunate Son, The, or a Kind Wife is worth Gold.

  Valentine and Orson, History of.

  Wanton Tom, or the Merry History of Tom Stitch the Taylor (Parts
          I. and II.).
  Wat Tyler and Jack Straw, History of.
  Welsh Traveller, The, or the Unfortunate Welshman.
  West Country Garland, The New.
  Whetstone for Dull Wits.
  Whittington, History of Sir Richard.
  Wit, a Groat's worth for a Penny, or the Interpretation of Dreams.
  Witch of the Woodlands, or the Cobler's New Translation.
  Witches, The Famous History of the Lancashire.
  World turned Upside Down, The.



Transcriber's Note:

  - - signifies italic text; = = signifies Old English text;
  ^ or ^{} signifies a superscript.
  [=] signifies a letter with a macron (straight line over) accent;
  [~] signifies a letter with a tilde over, sometimes indication an
  omitted letter.

  The footnotes, originally marked with asterisks and daggers, have
  been numbered in the text version.

  The spelling is not necessarily consistent. The Author appears to
  have updated some of the originals, but quoted directly from
  others. Errors persist, and most have not been corrected by the
  transcriber. It seemed best to retain original sentence
  structure, spelling, and punctuation. (e.g. 'No sooner had
  Faustus sent his name to the writing,...' for 'No sooner had
  Faustus set his name to the writing,...')

  The 18th century had no spelling or punctuation rules. Acceptable
  variants have been retained. Before about 1860-70 (and the various
  Victorian Public Instruction Acts) apostrophes were often absent.

  (e.g. brethren/bretheren; Pharoh/Pharaoh/Pharoah; 'youll' for
  you'll; fathers for father's).

  Sundry missing or damaged punctuation has been repaired, but only
  apparent printer's errors have been corrected:

  Page 120: 'eady' corected to 'ready'.

    "they made ready to receive them;"

  Page 140: '=Guy. Earl of Warwick=' Period is as clearly printed in
  large Old English type; retained.

  Page 150: 'solilude' retained. An error, or variant, for
  'soliloquy'? 'solitude' doesn't seem to fit the context.

    "While Guy was in this repenting solilude,..." Perhaps solilude is
    a made-up word for a state of soliloquising.

  Page 164: extra 'to' removed (at original line break)

    "/ On a tyme he came to the prouynce of Lybye to [to] a cyte which
    is sayd Sylene /"

  Page 174: 'pheasants' corrected to 'peasants' (though 'pheasants'
  may perhaps be correct).

    "and peopled with the best sort of gentry and peasants.

  Page 196: 'hirting' perhaps 'hurting', connected to 'bate' (bait)
  later in sentence.

  Page 338: 'downstars' corrected to 'downstairs'.

    "and ran downstairs for more liquor,"

  Page 354: 'Ill' for 'I'll'. Retained. Apostrophes were often notable
  by their absence.

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+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort
to Doctrine Publishing's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a
large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the use of
public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Keep it legal -  Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for
ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just because
we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States,
that the work is also in the public domain for users in other countries.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we
can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is
allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Doctrine Publishing
ISYS search  means it can be used in any manner anywhere in the world.
Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.

About ISYS® Search Software
Established in 1988, ISYS Search Software is a global supplier of enterprise
search solutions for business and government.  The company's award-winning
software suite offers a broad range of search, navigation and discovery
solutions for desktop search, intranet search, SharePoint search and embedded
search applications.  ISYS has been deployed by thousands of organizations
operating in a variety of industries, including government, legal, law
enforcement, financial services, healthcare and recruitment.