thieves falling out, True-men come by their Goods: OR, The Bellman wanted a Clapper. A Peal of new Villainies rung out; The sound being Musical to all Gentlemen, Lawyers, Farmers, and all sorts of people that come up to the Term: Showing that the Villainies of lewd Women, excel those of Men.  Go not by me, but Buy me; and get by me. 
Imprinted at London for T. G. and are to be sold by R. Marcha●● at the Cross in Paul's Churchyard. 1615.   

To all Gentlemen, Marchants● Apprentices, and Country's Farmers, health.  
News▪ and green Bushes at Taverns new set up; every man hath his Penny to spend at a Pint in the one, and every man his Ear open to receive the sound of the other. It is the language which at first meetings is used in all Countries, What News? In Court, 'tis the mornings Salutations; and Noons tabletalk; by Night it is stale. In City, 'tis more common, then, What do you la●ke? And in the Country, Whistling at Plough is not of greate● Antiquity. Walk the middle I'll in Paul's, and gentlemen's teeth walk not faster at Ordinaries, than there a whole day together, about inquiry after News. News then, being a Fish that's caught every day, and yet a Meat for every man's Table; I think it not amiss to invite all men to a Feast of such News, as have of late come in shoals into my Net. I will not hold a Bird in a Cage to sing strange Notes to myself, but let her forth to delight others: And albeit (about some two or three years passed) the ugly faces of divers damned abuses, were set naked upon every Post, their Vizards being flayed off, both by 〈◊〉 and candlelight, and by the Bellman of London: Yet Villainy when it runs to seed, being of all other Grains the most fruitful and luxuriant, the Candlelight was burnt to a Snuff, and the Bellman fast asleep before these Monsters which now are hatched forth, creeped out of their Dens.  
In Westminster, the Strand, H●lburne, and the chief places of resorts about London, do they every day build their Nests, every hour ●●●ge▪ and in Tearse 〈◊〉 especially fl●tter they abroad in flocks: You shall know them by their Feathers. And because for the most part, they fly in pairs, (a Cock and a Hen together), Behold a couple newly alighted on the Perch; a Hee-Foyst, and a Shee-Foyst: What they chirrup out, their own Voices can best deliver▪ and therefore listen to them. Suppose you hear the first of them setting forth a throat thus.  Farewell. R. G.  

A Disputation between a Hee-Foyst, and a Shee-Foyst.  Stephen, and Kate. Stephen. 
Fair Kate, well met, what News about your Westminster-Bulding, that you look so blithe, your ●herry Cheeks discovers your good fare▪ and your bra●● Apparel▪ bewrays a fa●te Purse: is Fortune now o'late grown so favourable to Foisted, that your Husband hath lighted on some large purchase; or hath your smooth looks links in some young Novice to 〈…〉 all the bite in his Blunge, & to leave himself as many Crowns as thou hast good conditions, and then ●he shall be one of Pierce penniless fraternity? How is it sweet Wench, goes the world on wheels, that you tread 〈…〉 on your 〈…〉?  Kate. 
Why Stephen, are you pleasant or peevish, that you quip with such br●e●e gerdes▪ think you a quartette wind cannot make a quick sail, that cas●e lists cannot make heavy burdens, that women have not wiles to compass crowns as well as men●yes and more, for though they be not so strong in the 〈◊〉, they be more ripe in their wits: and 〈…〉 that I live & will live, in despite of that peevish scholar, that thought with his coney-catching books to have crosbit our Trade. Dost thou marvel to see me thus brisk●? f●ire wenches cannot want favours, while the world is so full of amorous fools: where can such Girls as myself, be ble●●●h● with a threadbare Coat, as long as country Farmers have full Purses; and wanton Citizen's pockets full of Pen●e?  Steph. 
Truth, if fortune so favour thy Husband, that he be neither smoked nor cloyed: for I am sure▪ all my bravery comes by his Nipping, Foisting, and Lifting.  Kate. 
In ●ayth sir no: did I get no more by mine own wit, than I reap by his purchase, I might both go ●are & penniless the whole year; but mine eyes 〈…〉 were I not worthy the name of a 〈…〉 more Charms Calypso more Enchantments, the Sirens more subtle tunes, than I have crafty flights to 〈◊〉 a Coney, and fetch in a country Farmer. Stephen believe me, you men are but fools, your gettings is uncertain, & yet you still fish for the Gallows, though by some great chance you light upon a good 
 ●oung, yet you fast a great while after; whereas, as we mad Wench's have our Tenants (for so I call every simple Leccher & amorous Fox) as well out of Term as in Term, to bring us our Re●●●: alas, were not my wits, and my wanton pranks more profitable than my 〈…〉 swear my husband gets a hundredth pounds a year by 〈◊〉  Steph. 
Why Kate, are you grown so stiff, to think that your fair looks can get as much as our nimble fingers: or that your s●●king can gain as much as 〈◊〉 foisting 〈◊〉, no, Kate, you are 〈◊〉 Bows down the 〈…〉 more than twenty the proudest Wenches in all London.  Kate 
Lie a little further, & give me some room: what Stephen, your tongue is too lavish, all stands upon proof; & sith I have le●sure, and you no great business, as being now when Paul's is shut up, and al● purchases & Connes in their 〈◊〉, let us 〈…〉 and take a room to ourselves, & therefore the price of our suppers, I will prove, that women (I mean of our faculty, traffic, or as base: knaves term us, strumpets) are 〈◊〉 subtle, more dangerous in the commonwealth, and more 〈…〉, than the cunningest Foist, Nip, Li●t, 〈…〉 this day.  Steph. 
Content; but who shall be 〈…〉 sith in disputing pro & contra, betwixt ourselves, it is ●ut your yea, and my nay, and so neither of us will yield to others victories.  Kate 
Trust me Stephen, I am so assured of the conquest, offering so in the strength of mine own arguments, that when I have reasoned, I will refer it to your judgement and censure.  Step. 
And trust me, as I am an honest man, I will be indifferent.  Kate. 
Oh swear not so deeply: but let me first hear what you can say for yourself?  Steph. 
What? why more Kate, then can be painted out in a great volume; but briefly this: I need not describe the laws of villainy, because the Belman hath so amply penned them down in the first part of C●nuy-catching, 
Cutpurse's in their ●●llers.  that though I be one of the faculty, yet I cannot discover more than he hath laid open. Therefore first to the Gentleman Foist, I pray you what finer quality? what art is more exc●llent either to try the ripeness of the wit, or the agilliti● of the ha●d, then that for him that will be master of his trade, must pass the proudest juggler alive, the points of Leger the main, he must have an eye to spy the boung or purse, and then a heart to dare to attempt it, for this by the way, he that fears the Gallows shall never be good thief while he lives, he must as the Cat watch for a Mouse, and walk Paul's, Westminster, the Exchange, and such common haunt●● places, and there have a curious eye to the person, whether he be Gentleman, Citizen or Farmer, and note, either where his boung lies, whether in his hose or pockets, and then dog the party into a press where his slaule with heaving and shoving shall so molest him, that he shall not feel when we strip him of his boung, although it ●e never so fast or cunningly couched about him: what poor Farmer almost can come 〈◊〉 plead his case at the bar, to attend upon his Lawyers at the ●ench, but look he never so narrowly to it we have his purse, wherein sometime there is fat purchase, twenty or thirty pounds, and I pray you how long would one of your. Traffics be ●arning 〈◊〉 much with your Chamber work. Besides in fairs and markets, and in the circuits after judges, what infinite m●ny is gotten from honest meaning men, that either busy about their necassarie affairs, or carelessly looking to their Crowns, light amongst us that be foists, ●ush we dissemble in show▪ we go so neat in apparel, so orderly in outward appearance, 
Three shapes.  some like Lawyer's Clerks, others like 〈◊〉, that attended there about their masters business, that we are hardly smoked, vering upon all men with kind courtesies and fair words, and yet besing so warily watchful, that a good purse cannot be put up in a fair, but we sigh if we share i●●ot amongst us: and though the Books of Coney-catching have somewhat hindered us, and brought many brave Foists to the Halter, yet some of our country Farmers, nay of our Gentlemen and Citizens, are so careless in a throng of people, that they show us the Prey, and so draw on a thief, and bequeath us their Purses whether we will or no; for who loves Wine 〈◊〉, that he will not eat Grapes if they fall into his mouth; and who is so base, that if he see a pocket fair before him, will not foist in if he may, or if foisting will not serve, use his knife and nip, for although there be some foists that will not use their kni●●s, yet I hold him not a perfect workman or master 〈…〉, that will not cut a Purse as well as Foist a pocket, and hazard any limb for so sweet a gain as gold: how answer you me this 〈◊〉 objection Kate? can you compare with either our cunning to get our gains in purchase?  Kate. 
And have you no stronger arguments good man Stephen, 
The She Devil worst.  to argue your excellency in villainy but this? then in faith put by your pipes, and give me leave to speak: your choplodgicke hath no great subtlety for simple, you reason of foisting, & approbriate that to yourselves, to you men I mean, as though there were not women Foists and Nips; as neat in that Trade as you, of as good an eye, as fine and nimble a hand, and of as resolute a heart: yes Stephen, and your good mistresses in that mystery; for we without like suspicion can pass in your walks under the colour of simplicity to Westminster, with a Paper in our hand, as if we were distressed women, that had some supplication to put up to the judges, or some bill of information to deliver to our Lawyers, when God wot, we shuffle in for a boung as well as the best of you all, yea as yourself Stephen, though you be called king of Cutpurses, for though they su●●ke you, they will hardly mistrust us, & suppose our stomach stand against it to Foist, yet who can better play the stanse or the shadow than we, for in a thrust or throng if we shove hard, who is he that will not favour a woman, and in giving place to us, give you free passage for his purse. 
Women Foists and Boys, most dangerous in Fairs and Markets.  Again, in the market, when every wife hath almost her hand on her boung, and that they cry beweare the Cutpurse and coney-catchers, than I as fast as the best with my hand basket as mannerly as if I were to buy great store of Butter & Eggs, for provision of my house, do exclaim against them with my hand on my Purse, and say the world is bad when a woman cannot walk safely to Market, for fear of these villainous Cutpurses, when as the first boung I come to, I either nip or Foist, or else ●●●ule another, while he hath strooken, dispatched & gone: Now I pray you gentle sir, wherein are we inferior to you in foisting: and yet this is nothing to the purpose. For it is one of our most simplest shifts, but yet I pray you what think you when a Farmer, Gentleman, or Citizen, come to the Term, perhaps he is wary of his Purse, & match him never so warily, yet he will never be brought to the blow, is it not possible for us to pinch him ere he pass? He that is the blow, is it not possible for us to pinch him ere he pass, he that is most chary of his Crowns abroad, & will cry, Beware the Conny-cat. cheers, will not be afraid to drink a pint of wine with a pretty wench, 
A Trull with a Gull.  and perhaps go to a trugging house to ferry one out for his purpose, then with what cunning we can feed the simpl● Fop, with what fair words, sweet kisses, feigned sighs, as if at that instant we fell in love with him that we never saw before: if we meet him in the evening in the street, if the Farmer, or other whatsoever, be not so forward as to motion some courtesy to us, we strait insinuate into his company, and claim at acquaintance of him by some means or other, and if his mind be set for lust, & the Devil drive him on to match himself with some dishonest wanton, then let him look to his Purse; for if he do but kiss me in the street, I'll have his Purse for a farewell, although he never commit any other act at all. I speak not this only by myself Stephen, for there be a hundred in London more cunning than myself in this kind of Coney-catching. But if he come into a house then let our trade alone to verse upon him, for first we feign ourselves hungry, for the benefit of the house, although our bellies were never so full, and no doubt the good Pander, or Bawd, 
Tricks of bawds.  she comes forth like a sober Matron, and sets ●●ore of Cates on the Table, and then I fall 〈◊〉 on them, & though I can eat little, yet I make haua●ke of all, and let him be sure every dish is well saueed, for he shall pay for a Pippin Pie that cost in the Market four pence, at one of the Trugging houses▪ xviii. pence▪ ●ush what is dainty if it be not dear bought, and yet he must come off for Crowns beside, and when I see him draw to his Purse, I note the putting up of it well, and ere we part, that world goes hard if I foist him not of all that he hath, and then suppose the worst, that he miss it, am I so simple acquanted or badly provided, that I have not a friend, which with a few terrible oaths & countenance set, as if he were the proudest Sould●d●, that ever bare Arms in the Low-countrieses Wars, will face him quite out of his money, and make him walk like a woodcock homeward by weeping cross, and so buy repentance with all the Crowns in his Purse. How say you to this Stephen, whether are women foists inferior to you in ordinary cousinage or no?  Step. 
Excellently well reasoned, thou hast told me wonders, but wench though you be wily and strike often, your blows are not so big as ours.  Kate. 
Oh but note the subject of our disputation, and that is this, which are more subtle and dangerous in the Commonwealth, and to that I argue.  Step. 
I and beshrew me, but you reason quaintly, yet will I prove your wits are not so ripe as ours, nor so ready to reach into the subtleties of kind cousinage, and though you appropriate to yourself the excellency of Coney-catching, and that you do it with more Art than we men do, because of your painted flatteries and sugres words, that you flourish rethorically like nets to catch fools, yet will I manifest with a merry instance, a 〈◊〉 d●ne by a Foist, that exceede● any that ever was done by any 〈…〉 in England.  

A pleasant Tale of a Country Farmer, that took it in scorn to have his Pursecut or drawn fro● him, and how a Foist served hi●.  
IT was told me of a truth that not long 〈◊〉 here in London, there lay a Country Farmer, with 〈◊〉 of his neighbours about Law matters, amongst whom, 〈◊〉 of them going to Westminster-Hall, was by a Foist stripped of all the pence in his Purse, and coming home, maid great compl●●●t of his misfortune, some 〈◊〉 his loss, and others exclaimed against the Cutpurses, but this Farmer he laughed loudly at the matter, & say● such fools as could not keep their Purses no surer, were well served, and for my part 〈◊〉 he, I so much scorn the 〈◊〉, that I would thanks him 〈◊〉 that would take pains to Foist 〈◊〉, well says hi● neighbour, than you may thank me, sith my harms learns you to beware, but if it be true, that many things fall out between the cup and the lip, you know not what hands Fortune may light in your own lap, tush quoth the Farmer, here's forty pounds in this Purse in gold, the proudest Cutpurse in England win it and wear it; thus he 〈◊〉. There stood a subtle Foist by, and heard all, smile to himself at the folly of the proud Farmer, and vowed to have his Purse, or venture his neck for it, and so went home and bewrayed it to a crew of his Companions, who taking it in 〈◊〉, that they should be put down by a Peasant: But where sooner they 〈◊〉, they 〈…〉, and both consulted, and concluded all by a general consent, to bend all their wits to be possessers of this Farmer's Boung, and for the execution of this their vow, they haunted about the Inn where he lay, and dogged him into divers places, both to Westminster-Hall, and other places, and yet could never light upon it, he was so watchful and smoked them so narrowly, that all their travel was in vain, at last one of them fled to a more cunning policy, and went & learned the man's name & where he dwelled, 
A pretty 〈◊〉.  and then he hied him to the Counter and entered an Action against him of trespass, damages, two hundredth pounds, when he had thus done, he feed two Sergeants, and carried them down with him to the man's lodging, wishing them not to arrest him till he commanded them, well agreed they were, and down to the Farmer's lodging they came, where were a ●rue of Foystes, whom he had made privy to the end of his practice, stood waiting, but he took no knowledge at all of them, but walked up and down, the Farmer came out and went to Paul's, the Cutpurse ●ad stai●, and would not yet suffer the Officers to meddle with him, till he came into the West end of Paul's Churchyard, and there he willed them to do their Office, and they stepping to the Farmer arrested him, the Farmer amazed, being amongst his neighbours, asked the sergeant at whose suit he was troubled, at whose suit soever it be, said one of the Cutpurses that stood by, you are wronged honest man, for he hath arrested you hear in a place of privilege, where the Sheriffs nor Officers have nothing to do with you, and therefore you are unwise if you obey him, tush says an other Cutpurse, though the man were so simple of himself, yet shall he not offer the Church so much wrong, as by yielding to the Mace, to embellish Paul's liberty, and therefore I will take his part, and with that he drew his sword, an other took the man and haled him away, the Officer he stuck hard to him, and said he was his true prisoner, and cried Clubs, the Prentices arose, and there was a great hurly burly, for they took the Officers part, so that the poor Farmer was mightily turmoiled amongst them, & almost haled in pieces, whilst thus the strife was, one of the foists had taken his purse away, and was gone, and the Officer carried the man away to a Tavern, for he swore he knew no such man, nor any man that he was indebted to: as than they sat drinking of a quart of wine, the Foist that had caused him to be arrested, sent a note by a Porter to the Officer that he should release the Farmer, for he had mistaken the man; which note the Officer showed him, and had him pay his fees and go his ways, the poor Countryman was content with that, and put his hand in his pocket to feel for his Purse, and God-wot there was n●ne; which made his heart far more cold than the Arrest did, and with that fetching a great sigh, he said. Alas Masters I am undone, my Purse in this Fray is taken out of my pocket, and ten pounds in Gold 〈◊〉 it beside white money. 
One varlet. smo●●●● another.  Indeed, said the Sergeant, commonly in such brawls, the Cutpurses be busy, and I pray God the quarrel was not made upon purpose by the Pickpockets. Well (says his Neighbour) who shall smile at you now, the other day when I lost my Purse, you laughed at me? The Farmer ●●●oke all, and sat malcontent, and borrowed Money of his Neighbours to pay the Sergeant, and had a learning (I believe) ever after, to brave the Cutpurse.  
How say you to this Mistress Kate, was it not well done? What choice witted Wench of your faculty, or she Foist, hath ever done the like? ●ush Kate, if we begin once to apply our wits, all your inventions are follies towards ours.  Kate. 
You say good goodman Stephen, as though your subtleties were sudden as women's are, come but to the old Proverb, and I put you down, 'tis ●s hard to find a ●are without a Muse, as a woman without a se●se▪ and that wit that can devise a cunning lie, can plot the in●ent of deep villainies. I grant this fetch of the Foist was pretty, but nothing in respect of that we wantoness can compass, and therefore to quite your tale with another, hear what a mad wench of my profession, did relate to one of your faculty.   

A passing pleasant Tale, how a whore Coney-catched a Foist.  
THere came out of the Country a Foist, 
● Country, ●oyst Gulls ●●e City ●oystes.  to try his experience, here in Westminster Hall, and struck a hand or two, but the devil a snap he would give to our citizen Foystes, but wrought warily, and could not be fetched off by no means, and yet it was known he had some twenty pounds about him, but he planted it so cunningly in his doublet, that it was sure enough for finding. Although the City Foists laid all the plots they could, as well by discovering him to the Gaylors as otherways, yet he was so politic, that they could not verse upon him by any means, which grieves them so, that one day at di●●er, they held a counsel amongst themselves how to cozen him, but in vain, till at last a good wench that sat by, undertook it, so they would swear to let her have all that he had, they confirmed it solemnly, and she put it in practice thus: she subtly insinuated herself into this Foists company, who seeing her a pretty wench, began, after twice meeting, to wax familiar with her, and to question about a night's lodging, after a little nice loving and bidding she was content for her supper and what else he would of courtesy bestow upon her, for she held it scorn she said, to set a salary price on her body: the Foist was glad of this, and yet he would not trust her, so that he put no more but ten shillings is his pocket, but he had above twenty pounds quilted in his doublet: well to be short, supper time came, and thither comes my gentle Foist, who making good cheer, was so eager of his game that he would strait to bed, by the leave of dame Bawd, who had her fee too, and there he lay till about midnight, where three or four old Hackster's, whom she had provided upon purpose, came to the door and rapt lustily: who is there says the Bawd looking out of the window, marry say they, such a justice (and named one about the City that is a mortal enemy to Cutpurses) who is now come to search your house for a jesuit and other suspected persons: alas sir says she, I have none here, well quoth they, Open the door. I will, says she, and with that she came into the foists Chamber: who heard all this, and was afraid it was some search for him, so that he desired the Bawd to help him, that he might not be seen. Why then (quoth she) step into this Closet. He whipped in hastily, and never remembered his clothes: she lock● him in safe, and then let in the crew of rakehells, who making as though they searched every Chamber, came at last into that where his Leman lay, and asked her what she was: She, as if she had been afraid, desired their Worships to be good to her, she was a poor Country Maid come up to the Term. And who is that, quoth they, that was in bed with you? None for sooth, says she. No, says one, that is a lie, 
The Wolf, eats the Fox.  here is the print of two; and beside, wheresoever the Fox is, here is his skin●e, for this is his Doublet and Hose: Then down she falls upon her knees, and says, indeed it was her Husband. Your Husband, quoth they, nay that cannot be (Minion) for why then would you have denied him at the first? With that, one of them turned to the Bawd, and did question with her what he was, & where he was? Truly sir, says she, they came to my house, and said they were man and wife; and for my part I knew them for no other, and he being afraid, is indeed (to confess the troth) shut up in the Closet. 
Cards well packed, are as half the game won.  No doubt (if it please your Worship, says one rakehell) I warrant you, he is some notable Cutpurse or Pickpocket, that is afraid to show his face, come & open the Closet, and let us look on him. Nay sir says she, not for to night I beseech your worship carry no man out of my house, I will give my word he shall be foorth-comming to morrow morning. Your word dame Bawd, says one, 'tis not worth a straw. You housewife, that says ye are his wife ye shall go with us: and for him, that we may be sure he may not start, I'll take his Doublet, Hose, and Cloak, & to morrow I'll send them to him by one of my men; were there a thousand pounds in them, there shall not be a penny diminished. The Whore kneeled down on her knees, and feigned to cry pitifully, & desired the justice, (which was one of her companions) not to carry her to Prison. Yes housewife, quoth he, your mate & you shall not tarry together in one house, that you may make your tales all one, & therefore bring her away: and after, ye dame Bawd, see you lend him no other clothes, for I will send his in the morning betimes, and come you with him to answer for lodging him. I will sir, says she: and so away goes the Wench & her companions laughing, and left the Bawd & the Foist. As soon as the Bawd thought good, she unlocked the Closet, & cursed the time that ever they came in her house: now (quoth she) here will 
Worse feared, then hurt.  be a fair ado, how will you answer for yourself? I fear me I shall be in danger of the Cort. Well (quoth he) to be short, I would not for forty pounds come afore the justice. Marry no more would I, quoth she; let me shift, if you were conveyed hence, but I have not a rag of man's apparel in the house. Why (quoth he) seeing it is early morning, lend me a Blanket to put about me, and I will scape to a friends house of mine. Then leave me a pawn, quoth the Bawd: Alas I have none, says he, but this Ring on my finger. Why that, quoth she, or tarry while the justice comes: so he gave it her, took the Blanket and went his ways, whither I know not, but to some friends house of his. Thus was this wily Foist by the wit of a subtle Wench, cunningly stripped of all that he had, and turned to grass to get more fat.  Kat. 
How say you to this device Stephen, was it not excellent? What think you of a Woman's wit, if it can work such wonders?  Steph. 
Marry I think my Mother was wiser than all the honest Women of the Parish beside.  Kate. 
Why then belike she was of our faculty, and a Matron of my profession, nimble of her hands, quick of her tongue, and light of her tail; I should have put in, Sir reverence: but a foul word is good enough for a filthy Knave.  Stph. 
I am glad you are so pleasant Kate, you were not so merry when you went to Dunstable: but indeed I must needs confess that women foists, if they be careful in their trades, are (though not so common) yet more dangerous than men foists: Women have quick wits, as they have short heels; and they can get with pleasure, what we ●●sh for with danger: but now giving you the Bucklers at this weapon, let me hau● a blow at you with another.  Kate. 
But before you induce any more Arguments, by your leave in a little by-talke. You know Stephen, that though you can foist, nip, pr●g, lift, curb, & use the Black art, 
Crossbiting now most in use.  yet you cannot crossbite without the help of a Woman: which crossbiting now adays, is grown to a maru●ilous profitable exercise; for some cowardly Knaves that for fear of the Gallows, leave nipping & foisting, become Crosbites, knowing there is no danger therein but a little punishment, at the most the Pillory, and that is saved with a little Vng●entum Aureum: as for example; W. C. is now a reformed man, whatsoever he hath been in his youth, now in his latter days he is grown a corrector of Vice; for whom soever he takes suspicious with his wife, I warrant you he sets a sure fine on his head, though he hath nothing for his money but a bare kiss: and in this Art, we poor Wenches are your surest props and stay. If you will not believe me, ask poor A. B. in Turnmill street, what a saucy Signior there is, whose purblind eyes can scarcely discern a Louse from a Flea, and yet he hath such insight into the mystical trade of Crosbyting, that he can furnish his Board with a hundred pounds worth of Plate: I doubt the fand-eyde Ass, will kick like a Western Puggy, if I rub him on the gall; but 'tis n● matter if he find himself touched and stir, although he boasts of the chief of the Clergies fever, yet I'll so set his name out, that the Boys at Smithfield-barres shall chalk him on the back for a Crossbite. Tush, you Men are foppes in fetching novices over the ●●ales: hearken to me Stephen, I'll tell thee a wonder. There dwelled here sometimes a good ancient Matron, that had a fair Wench to her Daughter, as young and tender as a 〈◊〉 Mass priests Leman; her she set out to sale in her youth, and drew on sundry to be suitors to her Daughter, some wooers, and some speeders; yet none married her, but of her Beauty they made profit, and inueagled all, till they had spent upon her what they had, and then forsooth, she and her young Pigeon turn them out of doors like prodigal Children: She was acquainted with Dutch, French, Italian, and Spaniard, as well as English, & at last, as so often the Pitcher goes to the Brook that it comes broken home, my fair Daughter was hit on the master vein, and gotten with child, and the Mother, to relieve this matter to save her Daughter's Marriage, begins to wear a Cushion under her own ●irtle, and to feign herself with child, but let her Daughter pass as though she ailed nothing: when the forty weeks were come, and my young Mistress must needs cry out forsooth, this old ●. had gotten housewives, answerable to herself; and so brought her Daughter to Bed, and let her go up and down the house, and the old Crone lay i● childbed as though she had been delivered, and said, the Child was hers, and so saved her Daughter's 〈◊〉. Was not this a witty wonder M. Stephen, wrought by an old Witch, to have a Child in her age, and make a young Whore seem an honest Virgin: Tush, this is little to the purpose, if I should recite all, 〈◊〉 many she had co●●●ned under the pretence of marriage: Well, poor plain signor See, you were not stiff enough for her, although it cost you many Crowns, and the loss of your service. I'll say no more, perhaps she will amend her manners. Ah Stephen, how like you of this gear, in Crossbiting we put you 〈◊〉; for God wot, it is little looked too in & about London; and yet I may say to thee, many a good Citizen is Crosbit in the year by odd Walkers abroad.  Steph. 
I cannot deny Kate, but you have set down strange Precedents of women's prejudicial wits; but yet though you be Crosbites, foists, and Nips, yet you are not good Lifts: which is a great help to our Faculty, to 〈◊〉 Bolt of Satin or Velvet.  Kate. 
Stay thee a word, I thought thou hadst spoken of I.P.C. his wife: Take heed, they be perilous folks, and greatly acquainted with Keepers and jailers, therefore meddle not you with them; for I hear say, the Bellman hath sworn in despite of the Brasill ●●affe, to tell such a foul Tale of him in his Second part, that it will co●● him a dangerous joint.  Ste. 
Kate, Kate, let I. P. beware, ●or had not an ill fortune fallen to the Belman, he could take little harm.  Kate. 
Who is that Stephen, D. W.  Ste. 
Nay, I will not name him.  Kate 
Why then I prithee what misfortune befell him?  Ste. 
Marry Kate, he was strangely washed o'late by a French Barber, and had all the hair of his face miraculously shaven off by the Sith of God's vengeance, in so much that some said he had that he had not, but as hap was, howsoever his hair fell off, it stood him in some ●●eed when the brawl was o'late: for if he had not cast off his beard and so being unknown, it had cost him some knocks, but it fell out to the best.  Kate 
The more hard fortune that he had such ill hap, but hasty journeys breed dangerous sweats, & the physicians call it the Ale Peria, yet omitting all this, again to where you left.  St. 
You have almost brought me out of my matter, but I was talking about the Li●t, commending what a good quality it was, and how hurtful it was, 
The co●ditions of a Life.  seeing we practise it in Mercer's shops, with Haberdasher's of small war●●, Haberdashers of Hats & Caps, amongst Merchant Tailors for Hose and Doublets, and in such places getting much gains by Lifting, when there is no good purchase abroad by Foisting.  Kate 
Suppose you are good at the lift, who be more cunning than we women, in that we are more trusted, for they little suspect us, & we have as close conveyance as you men, though you have Cloaks, we have skirts of gowns, handbaskets, the crowns of our hats, our plackardes, and for a need, false bags under our smocks, wherein we may convey more closely than you.  St. 
I know not where to touch you, you are so witty in your answers, and have so many starting holes, but let me be pleas●nt with you a little, what say you to Priggin or horse-stealing, I hope you never had experience in that faculty.  Kate 
Alas simple sot, yes, and more shift to shun the gallows than you.  St. 
Why 'tis impossible.  Kate. 
In faith sir no, and for proof, 
I will tell you wonders of this mad wench & her husband, in my black book, with both their names.  I will put you down with a story of a mad, merry, little dapper, fine wench, who at Spilsby fair had three horse of our own, or another man's to sell, as she, her husband, and another good fellow, walked them up and down the Fair, the owner came & apprehended them all, & clapped them in prison, the jailor not keeping them close prisoners, but letting them lie all a Chamber, by her wit she instructed them in a formal tale, that she saved all their lives thus. Being brought the next morrow after their apprehension, before the justices, they examined that men how they came by the horses, and they confessed they met her with them, but where she had them, they knew not: then was my pretty peat brought in, who being a handsome Trull, blushed as if she had been full of grace; and being demanded where she had the horses, made this answer: May it please your worships, this man my husband, playing the unthrift, as many more have done, was absent from me for a quarter of a year●, which grieved me not a little, insomuch the desirous to see him, & having intelligence he would be at Spilsby Fair, I went thither even for pure love of him, on foot, & being within some ten miles of the town, I wa●ed passing weary, & rested me often, & grew very faint, at last there came riding by me a Servingman in a blue coat, with 3 horses tie at one another's tail, which he led, as I guessed, to sell at the fair: the Servingman seeing me so tired, took pity on me, & asked me if I would ride on one of his empty horses, for his own wo●ld not bear double, I thanked him heartily, & at the next hill got up, & road till we came to a town within 3 miles of Spilsby, where the serving-man alighted at a house, & ●ad me ride on afore, and he would presently overtake me. Well, forward I road half a mile, & looking behind me, could see no body; so being alone, my heart began to rise, and I to think on my husband: a● I had rid a little further, looking down a lane, I saw two men coming lustily up, as if they were weary; & marking them earnestly, I saw one of them was my husband, which made my heart as light as before it was sa●: so staying for them, after a little unkind greeting betwixt us (for I chid him for his unthriftiness) he asked me where I had the horse: and I told him how courteously the Servingman had used me: why then says he, stay for him: nay quoth I, le's ride on, and get you two upon the empty horses, for he will overtake us ere we come at the town, he rides on a stout lusty young gelding: so forward we went, and looked often behind us, but our Servingman came not. At last we coming to Spilsby, alighted & broke our fast, & tied our horses at the door, that if he passed by, seeing them, he might call in; after we had broke our fast, thinking he had gone some otherway, we went into the horse-fair, and there walked our horses up & down to meet with the Servingman; not for the intent to sell them. Now may it please your worship, whether he had stolen the horses from this honest man or no, I know not; but alas, simply I brought them to them to the horse fair, to let him that delivered me them, have them against: for I hope your worships do imagine if I had stolen them, as it is suspected, I would never have brought them into so public a place to sell: yet i● law be any way dangerous for the foolish deed, because I know not the Servingman, it is I must bide the punishment, and as guiltless as ●ny here: and so making a low curtsy she ended. The justice holding up his hand, and wondering at 〈◊〉 woman's wit, that had cleared her husband and his friend, & saved herself without compass of the law. How like you of this Stephen? cannot we wenches prigge well?  Step. 
I think Kate I shall be fain to give you the bucklers.  Kate. 
Alas good Stephen, thou art no Logician, thou canst not reason for thyself, nor hast no witty argument to draw me to an exigent: and therefore give me leave at large to reason for this supper, remember the subject of our disputation, is the positive question, whether Whores to thieves are most prejudicial to the Commonwealth. Alas, you poor thieves do only steal & purloin from men, & the harm you do, is to embellish men's goods, & bring them to poverty: this is the only end of men's thievery, and the greatest prejudice that grows from robbing and filching, so much do weby o● the●t, and more by our lechery: for what is the end of whoredom, but consuming of goods and begery; and beside, perpetual infamy? We bring young youths to ruin and utter destruction. I pray you Stephen whether had a merchants son, having wealthy parents, better light upon a whore, than a Cutpurse, the one only taking his money, the other bringing him to utter confusion. For if the Foist light upon him, or the Coney-catcher, he looseth at the most some hundredth pounds: but if he fall into the company of a Whore, she flatters him, she inveagles him, she bewitcheth him, that he spareth neither goods nor lands to content her, that is only in love with his coin: if he be married, he forsakes his wife, leaves his children, despiseth his friends, 〈◊〉 to satisfy his lust with the love of a base Whore, wh● when he hath spent all upon her, and he brought to beggary, beateth him out like the Prodigal child●; 
The end of keeping a whores company.  and for a ●●●all reward, brings him, if to the fairest end, to beg: if to the second, to the gallows: or at the last and worst, to the por, or as prejudicial diseases. I pray you Stephen when any of you come to your confession at Tyburn, what is your last Sermon that you make? That you were brought to that wicked and shameful end, by following of Harlots: for to that end do you steal to maintain whores, and to content their bad humours. Oh Stephen! enter your own thoughts, and think what the fair words of a wanton will do, what the smiles of a strumpet will drive a man to at, into what jeopardy a man will thrust himself for her that he loves, although for his sweet villainy he be brought to a loathsome leprosse. Tush Stephen, they say the Por came from Naples, some from Spain, some from France: but wheresoever it first grew, it is so surely now rooted in England, that by S. Sith it may better be called A Morbus Anglicus; then Gallicus, and I hope you will grant all these French favours grew from Whores: beside, in my high loving, or rather creeping, I mean wher●men and women do rob together, there always the Woman is most bloody: 
Women outstrip men in villainy.  for she always urgeth unto death: and though the Men would only satisfy themselves with the party's coin, yet she endeth her theft in blood, murdering parties so deeply as she is malicious: I hope (gentle Stephen) you cannot contradict these reasons, they be so openly manifestly probable. For mine own part, I hope you do not imagine but I have had some friends besides poor George my husband: Alas, he knows it, and is content, like an honest simple Suffragan, to be corrival with a number of other good Companions, and I have made many a good man, I mean a man that hath a household, for the love of me to go home and beat his poor wife, when God wot, I mock him for the money he spent, and he had nothing for his pence, but the waste beleaving of others beastly labours.  
Stephen, Stephen, 
Examples.  if Concubines could inveigle Solomon, if Dalilah could betray Samson, then wonder not if we (more nice in our wickedness then a thousand Dalilahs') can seduce poor young Novices to their utter destructions. Search the gales, there you shall hear complaints of Whores: Look into the Spitals, and Hospitals: there you shall see men diseased of the French Marbles, giving instruction to others that are said to beware of Whores, be an Auditor or earwitness at the death of any Thief, and his last testament is, Take heed of a Whoore.  
I dare scarce speak of Bridewell, because my shoulders tremble at the name of it, I have so often deserved it: yet look but in there, and you shall hear poor men with their hands in their Pigeon-hoales, cry: Oh fie upon Whores, when Fouler gives them the terrible lash. Examine Beggars that lie lame by the highway, and they say, they came to that misery by Whores. Some threadbare Citizens, that from Merchants, and other good Trades, grow to be base Informers and Knights of the Post, cry out when they dine with Duke Humphrey: O what wickedness comes from Whores. Prentices that run from their masters, cry out upon whores. Tush Stephen, what enormities proceed more in the Commonwealth, then from whoore●●●e. But sith it is almost suppertime, and mirth is the friend to digestion, I mean a little to be pleasant, I pray you how many bad profits again grows from whores? Bridewell would have very few Tenants, the Hospital would want Patients, that the Surgeons much work, the Apothecary's would have Surphaling water, and Potato-rootes lie dead on their hands, the Painters could not dispatch and make away their vermilion, if tallow-faced whores used it not for their cheeks. What should I say more Stephen? The Suburbs should have a great miss of us, and Shoreditch would compleine to dame Anne a Clear, if we of the sisterhood she 〈…〉 uphold her jollity. Who is that Stephen comes 〈…〉 hear our talk? Oh 'tis the boy Kate that tells us supper is ready. Why then Stephen what say you to me? have I not proved that in foisting and nipying we excel you, that there is none so great inconvenience in the Commonwealth, as grows from whores: first for the corrupting of youth, infecting of age, for breeding of brawls, whereof ensue● murder, insomuch that the ruin of many men comes from us, and the fall of many youths of good hope, if they were not seduced by us, do proclaim at Tyburn that we be the means of their misery: you men thieves touch the body, and wealth, but we ruin the soul, and endanger that which is more precious than the world● treasure: you make work only for the gallows, we both for the gallows and the ●●●el, I and for the Surgeon too, that 〈◊〉 live like 〈◊〉 Lazars, and 〈◊〉 with the Fre●●● Marbles. Whereupon I conclude that I have 〈…〉.  Steph. 
I confess it Kate, for thou hast told me such wondrous villainies, as I thought never could have been in women, I mean of your profession: why you are Crocodiles when you weep, Basilisks when you smile, Serpents when you devise, and the Devils chi●●e brokers to bring the world to destruction. And so Kate le's sit down to our meat and be merry.  
THus Countrymen, you have heard the disputation between these two cozening companions, wherein I have shaked out the notable villainy of whores, although mistress Kate this good Oratresse, hath sworn to wear a long Hamborough knife to stab me, and all the crew have protested my death: & to pro●e they meant good earnest, they beleaguered me being at supper: there were some fourteen or fifteen of them met, and thought to have mad● that the fatal night of my overthrow, but that the courteous Citizens and Apprentices took my part, and so two or three of them were carried to the Counter, although a Gentleman in my company was sore hurt. I cannot beny but they begin to waste away about London, and Tyburn hath eaten up many of them, and I will plague them to the extremity, let them do what they dare with their elbow blades, I fear them not: and to give them their last adieu, look shortly Countrymen, for a Pamphlet against them, called, 
New Laws.  The creeping Law, of petty thieves, that rob about the suburbs. The limiting law, discoursing the orders of such as follow judges in their circuits, and go about from fair to fair. The jugging law, wherein I will set out the disorders at Nine-holes and Rifling, how they are only for the benefit of the Cutpurses. The stripping law, wherein I will lay open the lewd abuses of sundry jailers in England. Beside, you shall see there what houses there be about the suburbs and towns end, that are receivers of Cutpurses stolen goods, Lifts and such like. And lastly, look for a Beadroll or Catalogue of all the names of the Foists, nips, Lifts, & Priggars, in and about London: and although some say I dare not do it, yet I will shortly set it abroach, and whosoever I name or touch, if he think himself grieved, I will answer him.   

The conversion of an English Courtesan.  

A Harlot's repentance.  Sigh to discover my parentage, would double the grief of my living Parents, and revive in them the memory of great 〈◊〉, and that my untoward ●●ll, would be a dishonour to the house from whence I came, Sith to manifest the place of my birth, would be a blemish (through my beastly life so badly misled) to the Shire where I was borne: Sith to discover my name, might be holden a blot in my kindred's brow, to have a 〈◊〉 their stock of so little grace, I will conceal my parents, kin, and Country, and shroud my name with silence, lest envy might taunt 〈◊〉 for my wantonness. Know therefore, I was borne 〈◊〉 threescore miles from London, of honest and wealthy parents, who had many children, but I their only daughter, and therefore the jewel wherein they most delighted, and more, the youngest of all, and therefore the more favoured; for being gotten in the waning of my parent's age, they doted on me above the rest, and so set● their hearts the more on fire: I was the fairest of all, and yet not more beautiful than I was witty, or so much that ●●ing a pretty Parrot, I had such acquaint conceits, and witty words in my mouth, that the neighbours said, I was too soon wise, to be long old. Would to God either the Proverb had been authentical, or their sayings Prophecies, than had I by death in my nonage, buried many blemishes that my riper years brought me to: For the extreme love of my parents, was the very efficient cause of my follies, resembling herein the ●●ture of the Ape, that ever killeth that young o●e which he loveth most, with embracing it too ●er●ently. So my father and mother, but she most of all, although he to much, so cockered me up in my wantonness, that my wit grew to the worst, and I wa●ed upwards with the ill weeds: Whatsoever I did, were it never so bad, might not be found fault withal, my Father would smile at it, and say, 'twas but the trick of a child, and my mother allowed of my unhappy parts, alluding to this profane and old proverb, An untoward girl makes a good woman.  
But now I find, in sparing the rod, they hated the child, that over-kind fathers make unruly daughters. Had they bend the wand while it had been green, it would have been pliant; but I, ill grown in my years, am almost remediless. The Hawk that is most perfect for the flight and will, seldom proveth haggard, and children that are virtuously nurtured in youth, will be honestly natured in age: fie upon such as say: young Saints, old Devils, it is no doubt a devilish and damnable saying: for what is not bend in the Cradle, will hardly by bowed in the Saddle. My self am an instance, who after I grew to be six years old, was s●t to School, where I profited so much, that I writ and read excellently well, played upon the Uirginals, Lute & Citron, and could sing pricksong at the first sight: insomuch as by that time I was twelve years old, I was holden for the most fair and best qualified young girl in 〈◊〉 that Country, but with this, bewailed of my wellwishers, in that my parents suffered me to be so wanton.  
But they so tenderly affected me, & 〈◊〉 so ●●nded with my excellent qualities, that they had no insight into my ensuing follies. For I growing to be 13 year old, feeling the yoke of liberty to be loose on mine own neck, begin, with the wanton Heifer, to aim at mine own will, and to measure content by the sweetness of mine own thoughts, insomuch that 〈◊〉 creeping on, I began to prank 〈◊〉 self with the proudest, and to hold it in disdain, that any in the Parish should exceed me in bravery. 〈◊〉 apparel was costly, so I grew to be licentious, and to delight to be looked on, so that I ●aunted and frequented all feasts and weddings, & other places of merry meetings, where, as I was gazed on of many, so I spared no glances to survey all with a curious eye favour, I observed Ovid's rule right:  Spectatum veniunt, veniunt spectentur ut ipse. 
I went to see & be seen, and decked myself in the highest degree of bravery, holding it a glory when I was waited on with many eyes, to make censure of my birth. Beside, I was 〈◊〉 ordinary 〈◊〉, and grew in that quality so famous, that I was noted as the chiefest thereat in all the Country: yea, and to soothe me up in these follies, my Parents took a pride in my dancing, which afterward proved my overthrow, and their heartbreaking.  
Thus as an unbridled Colt, I carelessly led forth my youth, and wanton spent the flower of my years, holding such Maidens as were modest, fools, and such as were not as wilfully wanton as myself, puppies, ill brought up, and without manners. Growing on in years, as tide nor time tarrieth for no man, I began to wa● passion-proud, and to think her not worthy to live, that was not a little in love, that as divers young men began to favour me for my beauty▪ 〈◊〉 I began to censure of some of them partially, and to 〈◊〉 in the 〈◊〉 of many wooers, being ready to fall from the 〈…〉 I was come to the 〈◊〉 of a blossom; which an 〈◊〉 of mine seeing, who was my mother's brother, as careful of my welfare, as me to me in kin, 〈…〉 to talk with me, gave me this 〈…〉   

A watchword to want on Maidens.  
〈…〉 the most sudden shower, and the yo●gest virgins the 〈◊〉 dangerous fortunes, I speak as a kinsman, and wish as a friend, the blossom of a Maiden's youth (such as yourself) hath attending upon it many frosts to nip it, and many cares to consume it, so that i● it be not carefully looked unto, it will perish before it come to any perfection.  
A virgin's honour consisteth not only in the gifts of Nature, as to be fair and beautiful, though they be favours that grace Maidens much: for as they be glistering, so they be momentany, ready to be worn with every winter's blast and parched with every Summer's sun, there is no face so fair, but the least Mole, the slenderest scar, the smallest brunt of sickness, will quickly blemish.  
Beauty (Cousin) as it flourisheth in youth, so it fadeth in age, it is but a folly that feedeth man's eye, a painting that Nature lends for a time, and men allow on for a while, insomuch that such as only aim at your fair looks, tie but their lou●s to an Apprenticeship of beauty; which broken, either with cares, misfortune, or years, their destinies are at liberty, and they begin to loath you, and like of others.  
For she that is looked on by many, cannot choose but be hardly spoken of by some: for report hath a blister on her tongue, & Maidens actions are narrowly measured. Therefore would not the ancient Romans suffer their daughters to go any further than their mother's looks guided them. And therefore Diana is painted with a Tortoise under her feet, meaning, that a maid should not be a straggler, but like the snail, carry her house on her head, and keep at home at her work, so to keep her name without blemish, and her virtues from the slander of envy.  
Cousin, I speak this generally, which if you apply particularly to yourself, you shall find in time my words were well said.  
I gave him slender thanks, but with such a frump that he perceived how light I made of his counsel: which he perce●●●ing, shaked his head, and with tears in his eyes, departed. But I whom wanton desires had drawn in delight, still presumed in my former follies, and gave myself either to gad abroad, or else at home to read dissolute Pamphlets, which bred in me many ill-affected wishes, so that I gave leave to love and lust to enter into the centre of my heart, where they harboured till they wrought my final and fatal prejudice.  
Th●s leading my life loosely, and being soothed up with the applause of my too kind and loving parents, I had many of every degree that make love unto me, as well for my beauty, as for the hope of wealth that my father would bestow upon me: sundry suitors I had, and allowed of all, though I particularly granted love to none, yielding them friendly favours, as being proud I had more wooers than a 〈…〉 in the parish beside: amongst the rest there was a ●●●lthy Farmer that wished me well, a man of some forty years of age, one too worthy for one of so little worth as myself, & him my father, mother, and other friends, would have had me match myself with all: but I that had the rains of liberty too long in mine own hands, refused him, & would not be ruled by their persuasions; and though my mother with tears entreated me to consider of mine own estate, & how well I sped if I wedded with him, yet carelessly I despised her counsel, and ●●a●ly ●●de answer, that I would none of him: which, though it pinched my Parents at the quick, yet rather than they would displease me, they left me to mine own liberty to love. Many there were beside him, men● sons of no m●●●e worth, that were wooers unto me, but in vain, either my fortune or destiny drove me to a worse end, for I refused them all, and with the B●●●e, refusing to light on the sweetest flowers all day, ne●●led at night in a Cowsh●●●d.  
It fortuned, that as many sought to win me, so amongst the rest there was an 〈◊〉 companion that dwelled with a Gentleman hard by, a fellow of small reputation, and of no li●ing, neither had he any excellent qualities, but thrumming on the gitt●on: but of pleasant disposition he was, and con●●gaw●● out many acquaint & ribaldrous jigs & songs, and so was favoured of the foolish sort for his foppery. This shi●●ing companion, suitable to myself in vanity, would oft times be jesting with me, and I so long dallying with him, that I began deeply (oh let me blush at this confession) to fall in love with him, and so construed of all his actions; that I consented to mine own overthrow: for as smoke will hardly be concealed, so love will not be long smothered, but will bewray her own secrets, which was manifest in me, who in my sporting with him, so bewrayed my affection, that he spying I favoured him, began to strike when the iron was hot, and to take opportunity by the forehead, and one day finding me in a merry vain, began to question with me of love: which although at the first I slenderly denied him, yet at last I granted, so that not only I agreed to plight him my faith, but that night meeting to have further talk, I lasciviously consented that he cropped the flower of my virginity. When thus I was spoiled by such a base companion, I gave myself to content his humour, and to satisfy the sweet of mine own wanton desire. Oh here let me breath, and with tears bewail the beginning of my miseries, and to exclaim against the folly of my Parents, who by too much favouring me in my vanity in my tender youth, laid the first plot of my ensuing repentance: Had they with due cor●●●tion chastised my wantonness, and suppressed my foolish will with their grave advice, they had made me more virtuous, and themselves less sorrowful. A father's frown is a bridle to the child, and a mother's check is a stay to the stubborn daughter. Oh had my parents in overloving me not hated me, I had not at this time cause to complain.  
But leaving this digression, again to the looseness of mine own life, who now having lost the glory of my youth, and suffered such a base stave to possess it, which many men of worth had desired to enjoy, I waxed bold in si●●e, and grew shameless, insomuch he could not desire so much as I did grant him: whereupon, seeing he durst not reveal it to my father to demand me in marriage, he resolved to carry me away secretly, & therefore wished me to provide for myself, & to furnish me every way both with money & apparel, hoping as he said, that after we were departed, and my father saw we were married, & that no means was to amend it, he would give his 〈◊〉 cousent, & use us kindly, and ●●ale with us as liberally, as if we had matched with his good will. I that was apt to any ill, agreed to this, and so wrought the matter, that he carried me away into a strange place, and then using me a while as his wife, when our money began to wax low, he resolved secretly to go into the Country where my father dwelled, to hear not only how my father took my departure, but what hope we had of his ensuing favour: although I was loath to be left in a strange place, yet I was willing to hear from my friends, who no doubt conceived much heart sorrow for my unhappy fortunes: so that I parted with a few tears, and enjoined him to make all the haste he might to return. He being gone, as the Eagles always resort where the carrion is, so the brute being spread abroad of my beauty, and that at such an Inn lay such a fair young Gentlewoman, there resorted thither many brave young Gentlemen, and cutting companions, that tickled with lust, aimed at the possession of my favour, and by sundry means sought to have a sight of me, which I easily granted to all, as a woman that counted it a glory to be wondered at by many men's eyes: insomuch that coming amongst them, I set their hearts more and more on fire, that there arose divers brawls who should be most in my company. Being thus haunted by such a troup of lusty rufflers, I began to find mine own folly, that had placed my first affection so loosely, and therefore began as deeply to loathe him that was departed, as erst I liked him when he was present, vowing in myself, though he had the spoil of my virginity, yet never after should he triumph in the possession of my favour: and therefore began I to affection these newcome guests, and one above the rest, who was a brave young Gentleman, and no less addicted unto me, than I devoted unto him: for daily he courted me with amorous Sonnets, and curious penned letters, and sent me jewels, and all that I might grace him with the name of my servant: I returned him as loving lines at last, and so contented his lusting desire, that secretly and unknown to all the rest, I made him sundry nights my bedfellow; where I so bewitched him with sweet words, that the man began deeply to dote upon me, insomuch that selling some portion of land that he had, he put it into ready money, and providing Horse and all things convenient, carried me secretly away, almost as far as the bath. This was my second choy●e, and my second shame: thus I went forward in wickedness, and delighted in change, having left mine old love to look after some other mate more fit for my purpose: how he took my departure when he returned, I little cared: for now I had my content, a Gentleman, young, lusty, and endued with good qualities, and one that loved me more tenderly than himself. Thus lived this new entertained friend & I together unmarried, yet as man and wife for a while, so lovingly as was to his content and my credit: but as the Tiger, though for a while she hide her claws, yet at last she will reveal her cruelty: and as the Agnus Castus leaf when it looks most dry, is then most full of moisture, so women's wantonness is not qualified by their wariness, nor doth their chariness for a month warrant their castity for ever, which I proved true: for my supposed husband being every way a man of worth, could not so covertly hide himself in the Country, though a stranger, but that he fell in acquaintance with many brave Gentlemen, whom he brought home to his lodging, not only to honour them with his liberal courtesy, but also to see me, being proud if any man of worth applauded my beauty. Alas poor Gentleman, too much bewitched by the wiliness of a woman▪ had he deemed my heart to be a harbour for every new desire, or mine eye a suitor to every face, he would not have been so fond as to have brought his companions into my company, but rather would have mewed me up as a Hen, to have kept that several to himself by force, which he could not retain by kindness: but the honest minded Novice little suspected my change, although I (God wot) placed my delight in nothing more than the desire of new choice, which fell out thus. Amongst the rest of the Gentlemen that kept him company, there was one that was his most familiar, and he reposed more trust and confidence in him then in all the rest: this Gentleman began to be deeply enamoured of me, and showed it by many signs, which I easily perceived; and I, whose ear was pliant to every sweet word, and who so allowed of all that were beautiful, affected him no less: so that love prevailing above friendship, he broke the matter with me, and made not many suits in vain before he had obtained his purpose: for he had what he wished, and I had what contented me. I will not confess that any of the rest had some seldom favours, but this Gentleman was my second self, and I loved him more for the time at the heel, than the other at the heart: so that though the other youth bore the charges, and was sir pay for all, yet this new friend was he that was master of my affections: which kindness betwixt us, was so unwisely cloaked, that in short time it was manifest to all our familiars, which made my supposed husband to sigh, and others to smile: but he that was hit with the horn, was pinched at the heart; yet so extreme was the affection he bore to me, that he had rather conceal his grief, than any way make me discontent, so that he smothered his sorrow with patience, and brooked the injury with silence, till our loves grew so broad before, that it was a wonder to the world: whereupon one day at dinner, I being very pleasant with his chosen friend, and my choice lover, I know not how, but either by fortune, or it may be, some set match, there was by a Gentleman there present, a question 〈◊〉 in about women's passions, and their mutability in affection, so that the controversy was defended, pro & contra, with arguments, whether a woman might home a second friend or no, at last it was concluded, that Love and Lordship brooks no fellowship, and therefore none so ba●e minded to bear arrival. Hereupon arose a question about friends that were put in trust, how it was a high point of treason for one to betray another, especially in love, insomuch that one Gentleman at the board, protested by a solemn oath, that if any friend of his, made privy and favoured with the sight of his Mistress whom he loved, whether it were his wife, or no, should secretly seek to encroach into his room, and offer him that dishonour to partake his love, he would not use any other revenge, but at the next greeting stab him with his poynado, though he were condemned to death for the action. All this fitted for the humour of my supposed husband, and struck both me and my friend into a quandary: but I scornfully jested at it, when as my husband, taking the ball before it came to the ground, began to make a long discourse what faithless friends they were that would fail in love, especially where a resolved trust of the party beloved was committed unto them: and hereupon, to make the matter more credulous, and to quip my folly, and to taunt the baseness of his friend's mind, that so he might with courtesy both warn us of our wantonness, and reclaim us from ill, he promised to tell a pleasant story, performed as he said, not long since in Eng●●nd, and it was to this effect.   

A pleasant discourse how a wise wanton by her Husband's gentle warning, became to be a modest Matron.  
THere was a Gentleman (to give him his due) an Esquire here in England; that was married to a young Gentlewoman, fair, and of a modest behaviour, virtuous in her looks howsoever she was in her thoughts, and one that every way with her dutiful ende●our, and outward appearance of honesty, did breed her husband's content, insomuch that the Gentleman so deeply affected her, as he counted all th●se 〈◊〉 ill spent which he passed not away in her com●●●●, besotting so himself in the beauty of his wife, th●● hi● only ●are was to have her every way delighted. Living thus pleasantly together, he had one special friend 〈…〉 the rest, whom he so dearly affected, as he unfolded all his 〈◊〉 in his bosom, and what passion he had in his mind, that either joyed him, or perplexed him, he revealed unto his friend, and directed his actions according to the sequel of his counsels, so that they were two bodies and one soul. This Gentleman, for all the inward favour shown him by his faithful friend, could not so withstand the force of fancy, but he grew enamoured of his friend's wife, whom he courted with many sweet words, and fair promises, charms that are able to enchant almost the chastest ears, and so subtly couched his arguments, discovered such love in his eyes, and such sorrow in his looks, that despair seemed to sit in his face, and swore, that if she granted not him, the end of a lovers sighs than would present his heart as a Tragic sacrifice to the sight of his cruel mistress. The Gentlewoman waring pitiful, as women are kindhearted, and are loath Gentlemen should die for love, after a few excuses, let him dub her husband knight of the forked order, and so to satisfy his humour, made forset of her own honour. Thus these two lovers continued for a great space in such pleasures as unchaste wantoness count their felicity, having continually fit opportunity to exercise their wicked purpose, ●ith the Gentleman himself did give them free liberty to love, neither suspecting his wife, nor his friend: at last, as such traitorous abuses will burst forth, it fell out, that a maid, who had been an old servant in the house, began to grow suspicious, that there was too much familiarity between her mistre●●●, and her masters friend; and upon this, watched them divers times so narrowly, that at last she found them more private then either agreed with her masters honour, or her own honesty: and thereupon revealed it one day unto her master. He, little credulous of the light behaviour of his wife, blamed the maid, and bid her take heed, lea●● 〈◊〉 sought to blemish her virtues with ●●ander, whom he 〈◊〉 more tenderly than his own life: the maid replied, that she spoke not of envy to him, but of mere love she bore unto him, and the rather that he might shadow such a fault in time, and by some means prevent it, lest if others should not● it as well as she, his wives good name, and his friends should be called in question. At these wise words spoken by so base a drudge as his maid, the Gentleman waxed astonished and listened to her discourse, wishing her to discover how she knew, or was so privy to the folly of her mistress, or by what means he might have assured proof of it, she told him that to her, her own eyes were witnesses: for she saw them unlawfully together, and please it you sir, quoth she, to feign yourself to go from home, and then in the backe-house to keep you secret, I will let you see as much as I have manifested unto you. Upon this the master agreed, and warned his maid not so much as to make it known to any of her fellows. Within a day or two after the Gentleman said he would go a hunting, and so risse very early; and causing his men to couple up his hounds, left his wife a bed, and went abroad: as soon as he was gone a mile from the house, he commanded his men to ride afore, and to start the Hare, and follow the chase, and we will come fair and softly after: they obeying their masters charge, went their ways, and he returned by a back way to his house, and went secretly to the place where his maid and he had appointed. In the mean time the mistress thinking her husband safe with his hounds, sent for her friend to her bedchamber, by a trusty servant of hers, in whom she assured that was a secret pander in such affairs, and the Gentleman was not slack to come, but making all the haste he could, came and went into the chamber, ask for the master of the house very familiarly: the old maid noting all this, as soon as she knew them together, went and called her master, and carried him up by a secret pair of stairs to her mistress chamber door; where, peeping in at a place that the maid before had made for the purpose, he saw more than he looked for, and so much as pinched him at the very heart, causing him to accuse his wife for a strumpet, and his friend for a traitor: yet for all this, valuing his own honour more than their dishonesty, thinking if he should make an uproar, he should but aim at his own discredit, and cause himself to be a laughing game to his enemies, he concealed his sorrow with silence, and taking the maid apart, cha●ged her to keep all secret, whatsoever she had seen, even as she esteemed of her own life, for if she did bewray it to any, he himself would with his sword make an end of her days, & with that putting his hand in his sleeve, gave the poor maid six Angels to buy her a new gown: the w●nch glad of this gift, sworn solemnly to tread it under foot, and sith it pleased him to conceal it, never to reveal it so long as she lived: upon this they parted, she to her drudgery, & he to the field to his men; where, after he had killed the Ha●e, he returned ●ome, & finding his friend in y●; garden, that in his absence had been grafting horns in the chimneys, & entertained him with his wont familiarity, and showed no bad countenance to his wife, but dissembled all his thoughts to the full. As soon as dinner was done, and that he was gotten solitary by himself, he began to determine of revenge, but not as every man would have done, how to have brought his wife to shame, & love to confusion, but he busied his brains how he might reserve his honour inviolate, recl●●● his wife, & keep his friend, meditating a long time how he might bring all this to pas●●, at last a humour fell into his head, how cunningly to compass all three, & therefore he went & g●t him certain ●●ips, which are counterfeit pieces of money, being brass, & covered over with silver, which the common people call ●●ips: having furnished himself with these, he put them in his purse, & at night went to bed as he was w●nt to do, yet not using the kind familiarity that he accustomed, notwithstanding he abstained not from the use of her body, but knew his wife as aforetimes, & every time he committed the act with her, he laid ● next morning in the windo●, a slip, where he was sure she might find it, and so many times as it pleased him to b●e carnally pleasant with his wife, so many slips he still laid down upon her 〈◊〉. This he used for the space of a fortnight, till at last his wife finding every ●ay a slip, or s●metime more or less, wondered how they came there, & examining her waiting maids, none of them could tell her any thing touching them, whereupon she thought to question with her husband about it, but being out of her remembrance, the next morning as she lay dallying in bed, it came into her mind, & she asked her husband if he laid those slips on her cu●●net, that she of late found there, having never seen any before. I marry did I, quoth he, & have laid them there upon special rea●on, and it is this: Ever since I have been married to thee, I have deemed thee honest, & therefore used & honoured thee as my wife, parting coequal favours betwixt us as true lovers: but o'late finding the contrary, and with these eyes ●éeing thee play the whore with my friend, in whom I did repose all my trust, I sought not as many would have done, to have revenged in blood, but for the safety of mine own honour, which otherwise would have been blemished by they dishonesty, I have been silent, and have neither wronged my quandom friend, nor abused thee, but still do hold bed with th●●, that the world shall not suspect any thing, & to quench the desire of lust I do use thy body, but not so lovingly as I would a wife, but carelessly as I would a strumpet, and therefore even as to a whore, so I give thee hire, which is for every time a ●●ip, a counterfeit coin, which is good enough for such a ●●ippery wanton, that will wrong her husband that loved her so tenderly, & thus will I use thee for the safety of mine own honour, till I have assured proof that thou becomest honest: & thus with tears in his eyes, and his heart ready to burst with sighs, he was silent, when his wife stricken with remorse of conscience, leaping out of her bed i● her smock, humbly confessing all, craved pardon, promising if he should pardon this offence which was new begun in her, she would become a new reformed woman, & never after so much as in thought give him any occasion of suspicion or jealously: the patient husband not willing to urge his wife, took her at her word, & told her that when he found her so reclaimed, he would as afore he had done, use her lovingly & as his wife, but till he was so persuaded of her honesty, he would pay her still slips for his pleasure, charging her not to reveal any thing to his friend or to make it known to him that he was privy to their loves. Thus the debate ended, I guess in some kind greeting, and the Gentleman went abroad to see his pastures, leaving his wife in bed full of sorrow, and almost re●ting her heart asunder with sighs. As soon as he was walked abroad, the Gentleman his friend came to the house, and asked for the good man: the pander that was privy to all their practices, said that his master was gone abroad to see his pastures, but his mistress was in bed: why then says he, I will go and raise her up; so coming into the chamber, and kissing her, meaning as he was wont to have used her accustomed ●alliance, she desired him to abstain with broken sighs, and her eyes full of tears: he wondering what should make her thus discontent, asked her what was the cause of her sorrow, protesting with a solemn oath, that if any had done her injury, he would revenge it, were it with hazard of his life: she than told him, scarce being able to speak for weeping, that she had a suit to move him in, which if he granted unto her, she would hold him in love and affection without change, next her husband for ever: he promised to do whatsoever it were: then says she, swear upon a Bible you will do it without exception: with that he to●ke a Bible that lay in the window, and swore, that whatsoever she requested him to do, were it to the loss of his life, he would, without exception perform it. Then she holding down her head and blushing, began thus: I need not quoth she, make manifest how grossly and grievously you and I have both offended God, and wronged the honest gentleman my husband, and your friend; he putting a special trust in us both, and assuring such earnest affiance in your unfeigned friendship, that he even committeth me his wife, his love, his second life, into your bosom: this love have I requited with●● constancy, in playing the harlot: that faith that he● reposed in you, have you returned with treachery & falsehood, in abusing mine honesty & his honour. Now a remorse of conscience toucheth me for my sins, that I heartily repent, and vow ever hereafter to live only to my husband: & therefore my suit is to you, that from henceforth you shall never so much as motion any dishonest question unto me, nor seek any unlawful pleasure or conversing at my hands: this is my suit, & hereunto I have sworn you, which oath if you observe as a faithful gentleman, I will conceal from my husband what is past, and rest in honest sort your faithful friend for ever, at this she burst a fresh into tears, & uttered such sighs, that he thought for very grief her heart would have clave asunder. The gentleman astonished at this strange Metamorphosis of his mistress, sat a good while in a maze, and at last taking her by the hand, made this reply: So God help me fair sweeting, I am glad of this motion, & wondrous joyful that God hath put such honest thoughts into your mind, & hath made you the means to reclaim 〈◊〉 from my folly: I feel no less remorse than you do in wronging so honest a friend as your husband, but this the frailness of man, & therefore to make amends, I protest anew, never hereafter so much as in thought, to motion you of dishonesty, only I crave you be silent: she promised that, and so they ended, and for that time they parted. At noon the Gentleman came home, & cheerfully saluted his wife, & asked if dinner were ready, & sent for his friend, using him wonderfully familiarly, giving him no occasion of mistrust, & so pleasantly they passed away the day together: At night when his wife and he went to bed, she told him all, what had passed between her & his friend, & how she had bound him with an oath, and that he voluntarily of himself swore as much, being heartily sorry that he had so deeply offended so kind a friend. The Gentleman commended her wit, & found her afterward a reclaimed woman, she living so honestly that she never gave him any occasion of mistrust. Thus the wise Gentleman reclaimed with silence a wanton wife, and retained an assured friend.  
At this pleasant tale all the ●●●rd was at a mutiny, and they said the gentleman did passing wi●ely that wrought so coningly for the safety of his own honour, but exclaiming against such a friend as would to his friend offer such villainy, all condemning her that would be false to so loving a husband. Thus they did diversely descant & past away dinner; but this Tale wrought little effect in me: for as one past grace, I delighted in change; but the gentlemant that was his familiar, & my Paramour, was so touched, that never after he would touch me dishonestly, but reclaimed hinselfe, abstained from me, & became true to his friend. I wondering, that according to his w●nted custom, he did not seek my company, he & I being one day in the chamber alone, & he in his dumps, I began to dally with him, & to ask him why he was so strange, & used not his accustomed favours to me: he solemnly made answer, that though he had played the fool in setting his fancy upon another's man's wife, & in wronging his friend, yet his conscience was now touched with remorse, & ever since he heard the tale afore rehearsed, he had vowed in himself never to do my husband the like wrong again. My husband, quoth I, he is none of mine, he hath brought me from my friends, & kéeps me here 〈◊〉, and therefore am I as free for you as for him: and thus began to grow clamorous, because I was 〈◊〉 of my lust. The gentleman seeing me shameless, wished me to be silent, and sai●, although you be but his friend, yet he ho●●s you as dear as his wife, & therefore I will not abuse him, neither would I wish you to be ●●miliar with any other, seeing you have a friend that loves you so tenderly: much good counsel he gave me, but all in vain, for I scorned it, & began to hate him, and resolved both to be rid of him, & my supposed husband, for 〈◊〉 another familiar of my husbands, I so 〈◊〉 him with 〈◊〉 words, that I 〈◊〉 him to make a 〈◊〉 of money to steal me away, & so carry me to London, where I had not lived long with him, ere he seeing my light behaviour, left me to the wide world, and to shift for myself.  
I now being brought to London, and left here at random, was not such a housedove while any friend stayed with me, but that I had visit some houses in London, that could harbour as honest a woman as myself; when as therefore I was left to myself, I removed my lodging, & got me into one of those houses of good hospitality whereunto persons resort, commonly called a Trugging-house, or, to be plain, a whorehouse, where I gave myself to entertain all companions, sitting or standing at the door like a stall, to allure or draw in wanton passengers, refusing none that would with his purse purchase me to be his, to satisfy the disordinate desire of his filthy lust: now I began not to respect parsonage, good qualities, to the gracious favour of the man, when eye had no respect of person, for the oldest lecher was as welcome as the youngest lover, so he brought meat in his mouth. Thus to the grief of my friends, hazard of my soul, & consuming of my body, I spent a year or two, in this base and bad kind of life, subject to the whistle of every desperate Ruffian, till on a time, there resorted to our house a clothier, a proper young man, who by fortune coming first to drink, espying me asked me if I would drink with him, there needed no great entreaty, for as then I wanted company, & so clapped me down by him, & began very pleasantly to welcome him, the man being of himself modest and honest, noted my parsonage, & judicially reasoned of my strumpet-like behaviour, and inwardly, as after he reported unto me, grieved that so foul properties were hidden in so good a proportion, and that such rare wit & excellent beauty was blemished with whoredoms base deformity, in so much that he began to thin● well of me, & to wish that I were as honest as I was beautiful. Again●●● see how God wrought for my conversion, since I gave myself to my loose kind of life, I never liked any so well as him, in so much that I began to judge of every part, & me thought he was the properest man that ever I saw, thus we sat both amorous of other, I lasciously, & he honestly, at last he questioned with me what country woman I was, & why being so prop●● a woman I would beseem to dwell or lie in a base Alehouse, especially in one that had a bad name: I warrant you I wanted no knavish reply to 〈◊〉 him, for I told him the house was as honest as his mothers, marry if there were in it a good wench or two, that would pleasure their friends 〈…〉, I guess by his nose what porridge he lo●ed, & 〈…〉 none such: well, seeing me in the voice he said little, but shaked his head, paid for the beer & went his way, only taking his leave of me with a kiss, which me thought was the sweetest that ever was given me, assoon as he was gone, I began to think what a handsome man he was, & wished that he would come & take a night's lodging with me, sitting in a dump to think of the quaintness of his parsonage, ●ll other companions came in, that shaked me out of the melancholy, but assoon again as I was secret to myself, he came into my remembrance, passing over thus a day or two this clothier came again to our house, whose sight chéered me up, for that spying him out at a Casement, I ran down the stairs & met him at the door, & heartily welcomed him, & asked him if he would drink, I come for the purpose says he, but I will drink no more below but in a Chamber, marry sir, quoth I, you shall, & so brought him into the fairest 〈◊〉, in their sitting there together drinking, at last the Clothier fell to kissing & other dalilance, wherein he found me not coy, at last told me that he would willingly have his pleasure of me, but y● 〈◊〉 was too lightsome, for of all things in the world he could not in such actions away with a light Chamber, I 〈◊〉 unto him, & brought him into a room more dark, but still he 〈◊〉 it was too light, than I carried him into a further chamber, where drawing a Curtain before the window, & closing the curtains of the bed, I asked him smiling if that were close enough, no sweet love says he, y● curtain is not broad enough for the window, some watching 〈◊〉 may espy us, my heart misdoubts, & my credit is my life: Good 〈◊〉 if thou hast a closer room than this, bring me to it: why then quoth I, follow me, & with that I brought him into a back l●ft, wher● stood a little ●ed, only appointed to lodge suspicious persons, so dark that at noon days it was impossible 〈◊〉 any man to see his own hands: how now sir, quoth I, is not this dark enough? He sitting him down on the bed side, fetched a deep sigh, and said, indifferent, so, so, but there is a glimpse of light in at the tiles, some body 〈…〉 fortune see us: in faith no, quoth I, none but God. 〈…〉 hee● why can God see us here? Good sir, quoth I, why I hop● you are not so simple, but God's eyes are so clear and penetrating, that they can pierce through walls of brass. And alas, q●●th he, sweet love, if God see us shall we not be more ashamed to do such a filthy act before Him then before men, I am sure thou art not so shameless but thou wouldst blu●● to have the meanest commoner in London see thee 〈◊〉 action of thy filthy lust, & dost thou not shamemore to 〈◊〉 God, the maker of all things see thee, who revengeth 〈◊〉 with death, he whose eyes are clearer than the ●un, who i● the searcher of the heart, and holdeth vengeance in his hands to punish sinners▪ Oh let us tremble that we but once durst have such wanton communication in the hearing of his di●ine Majesty, who pronounceth damnation for such as give themselves over to adultery. It is not possible ●aith the Lord, for any whoremaster or lascivious wanton, to enter into the Kingdom of God, for such sins whole Cities have sunk▪ Kingdoms have been destroyed, & though God suffer such wicked livers to escape for a while, yet at length he payeth home, in this world with beggary, shame, disease's, or infamy, & in the other life, with perpetual damnation, weigh but the inconvenience that grows through thy loose life, thou art hated of all that are g●od, despised of the virtuous, and only well thought of, of Reprobates, Rascals, Ruffians, & such as the world hates, subject to their lust, and gaining thy living at the hands of every diseased lecher. O what a miserable trade of life is thine, that livest of the vomit of sin, in hunting after maladies: but suppose, while thou art young, thou art favoured of thy companions, when thou waxest