Histoire Des larron's, OR THE HISTORY OF THIEFS.  
Written in French, and Translated out of the Original, By PAUL GODWIN.  
LONDON, Printed by john Raworth, and are to be sold by Thomas Slater, at the sign of the Swan in Duck-lane, 1638.   

The Preface to the Reader.  
ALthough that Lycurgus the Lawmaker of the Lacedæmonians was a great Statesman, and obtained an immortal glory by the Laws and Statutes which he left unto the Spartans'. Yet I find that he was very faulty in pemitting his Citizens to live in continual robbery; for what was this, but to nourish the fire of dissension, by which he might have set on fire his new erected Commonwealth; and indeed there needed the courage of Theseus, and the strength of Hercules to purge a kingdom infected with the swarm of such people, for it is a poison which (as saith the Poet) Latius & latius vires acquirit eundo. It is like unto rivers, which (the farther they run from their fountain) the more they swell and enlarge themselves.  
But before I represent unto you the diverse stratagems which these Rake hells usually put in practice to gain their living; I will first show you their original, it being no new thing since men began to be wicked: and surely this vice must be very old, since the heathen gods sometimes exercised the same trade: For Lucian (in his Dialogue of Apollo) and Vulcan) relates that Mercury was one of the subtlest thiefs that ever lived, for he was scarce out of his shell, when he stole away the tools of Vulcan, he made what ever he found in his way his own: and one day having overcome Cupid at the Lute, as Venus came to embrace him, and congratulate his victory, he slily stole from her that admirable girdle whereof Homer maketh such esteem: another time, he by the sweetness of his music so charmed Apollo, whiles he kept the Kine of Admetus, that he fell asleep, and in the mean time stole away his herd, (wherein you may note how blind the ancients were in their belief, to worship a cow-herd and a thief for gods) nay ever Jupiter could not keep himself from the flights of this thief, for he stole from him his Sceptre, and would no doubt, have carried away his Thunderbolt had it not been too hot: Wherefore Homer in the Hymn which he made in his praise, calls him (Arcon Philyteon) the Prince of Thiefs; and indeed it is a thing very remarkable, that there is no vice which hath not been authorised by gods, to the end that the Ancients might not be scrupelous in imitating their actions, which was the devil's policy to draw men to be his followers, by introducing (by the means of false Gods) vice in stead of virtue, and most commonly making use of things accounted sacred, to make his poison to be swallowed the more easily; for who would not have stole his neighbour's goods, since god Mercury himself was of the trade, or who was there among them, who esteemed it not an honour to follow the steps of so brave a Champion? 
— cui fas per limen utrumque  
Solus habet geminoque facit commercia mundo?  as saith Claudian, like Master, like servant; such a Prince, such a subject; If the Gods in times past were Thiefs, it must needs be that their worshippers must follow their example: and we have seen the effects thereof; for during the space of four or five thousand years, since that Nimrod by an insupportable arrogancy placed the first stone in the tower of Babel, the world hath been full of nothing but confusion, murder, and theft. The Assyrians spoiled and ransacked all their neighbour countries, to lay the foundation of their Monarchy; but it proved no other than the preparation of a Trophy for the Medes, who invading them, spoilt them of all that which they had ransaked from others: The Medes enjoyed for a time their spoils, but they were soon stripped by the Persians, thus one nation robbed another, until that the Romans became Masters of the whole. And what happened at lèngth, even after revolutions of ages, this great Colossus (whose shadow struck a fear into the inhabitants of the remotest Regions) was dismembered by piecemeal and at length remained as naked as Esop's bird, and it was according to reason, that the end should be correspondent to the beginning; for seeing this famous Republic had not its original and increase, but by theeveries, rapes▪ and massacres under Romulus and others; there was no other likelihood but that it would return to its first original.  
But yet I find some mention of thiefs before all these, for the Egyptians were the first after the deluge that began to rob, a custom which hath been so long continued by this Nation, that they are yet seen to run by troops from kingdom to kingdom▪ to tell fools their fortunes, & were it not that men look more unto their hands then their feet, they would make a horrible havoc in villages and solitary houses.  
The barbarous Scytheses, by the report of Herodottus, were also very subject to this wicked vice. for they thought all goods to be common, both to men, and other living creatures, but especially food, for they made it no scruple to intrude themselves into any man's house, where they might find meat wherewith to satisfy their hungry appetites.  
But the Lydians were yet much more rude, for they held it for an infallible Maxim, that it was not fit that a man should depart from any place without furnishing, himself with something; and it may well be said, that there there are two many Colonies of this race planted among us, for it is too apparent, that the one half of the world robs the other; the greater thiefs robbing the less: For this is so miserable an age, that the great ones rejoice at the tottering of the less; and many are seen standing under the Gallows to be as spectators of the execution of others, who have more often deserved death than they have committed thefts: and though I might here take occasion to speak much of the great thiefs in the Commonwealth, yet considering, that Quae supra nos nihil ad nos, I will forbear, and come unto the less, with sorrow that I must leave one of the Principal parts of this History untouched: or, know therefore, courteous Reader, that for thy good I have set forth this various, and pleasant History, which will show thee, how thou mayest avoid many dangers, and how others more wickedly inclined, may (by the punishments which these reap as just rewards for their evil courses) be led from the precipice of perdition, into the safe way of virtue and honesty.   

A Table of the Chapters contained in this Book.  

Chap. 1. AN Innkeeper cheated. pag. 1.  
Chap. 2. A notable trick put upon a Physician. p. 12.  
Chap. 3. A Tragicomedy acted by two Thiefs. p. 18.  
Chap. 4. A Cheater's self invitation. p. 28.  
Chap. 5. The notable Impudence of Amertis. p. 36.  
Chap. 6. A Merchant cheated by a pretended Churchwarden. p. 45.  
Chap. 7. Polidamors entertainment among Thiefs. p. 53.  
Chap. 8. A prodigious History of the Treacheries of Valesio. p. 67.  
Chap. 9 A young Cutpurse made free. p. 91.  
Chap. 10. The life and death of little- james. p. 99  
Chap. 11. The story of Pallioly, and his Choke-pear. p. 123.  
Chap. 12. The wicked servant. p. 1●5.  
Chap. 13. The dangerous adventures and miraculous escapes of Colyrias. p. 161.  
Chap. 14. One often cheated. p. 173.  
Chap. 15. A strange Robbery of a Merchant's shop. p. 183.  
Chap. 16. The cunning escape of a Cheater oot of Prison. p. 188.  
Chap. 17. A Thief caught in a Trap. p. 193.  
Chap. 18. The story of Amboise lafoy Forge, a notable Cutpurse. p. 201.  
Chap. 19 A Relation of the notable cheats performed by one Mutio. p. 221.  
Chap. 20. A facetious Relation, how one Maillard cheated a Goldsmith of a rich piece of Plate. p. 238.  
Chapt. 21. The multiplicity of Thiefs. p. 263.  
Chap. 22. A facetious Relation of a Parisian Thief, condemned to the Galleys at Marseilles. 269.  
Chap. 23. The grateful Thief. p. 294    

THE HISTORY OF THIEFS.  

CHAP. I.  
Of an Innkeeper Cheated.  
Despair often constraineth us to embrace Actions which we would reject, as pernicious to our soul's health, if Passion blinded not our Senses; but we are for the most part so wedded to our own perverse wills, that we will not vouchsafe to deliberate with reason, but rashly do whatsoever is presented unto us by our vain imaginations. This is the cause that man cannot so easily see what he is, nor whence he draweth his Original.  
At that time when as Peace began to flourish in this Kingdom, and that the fury of a long war was appeased. It happened that five or six cashiered Soldiers, not knowing what shifts to make, departed out of Paris, resolving among themselves, that sithence unconstant Fortune seemed to deny them sufficient Commodities for their sustenance, they would use their greatest cunning and utmost endeavour to procure it. These people that before had plenty of all things, could not now brook a scarcity, and therefore resolved to make a correspondency to their former fortunes, though by any indirect means, neither were they long to seek: For as it often comes to pass, that when men perceive themselves sinking into the deepest misery, even than they find out a means of relief.: So now Necessity dictates unto these cheating fellows, an invention by which they for a time shift off these hungry wants which were now ready to oppress them. They in their way chanced to meet with a youth about the age of ten or twelve years, who had been sent from about twelve Leagves distant from thence with a Letter to one in Paris, whom they staying, one among the rest (intending to practise his wit and to recreate both himself and companions by an invention (adviseth them to clothe him after the best manner they could possibly, and telleth them, that as for the rest, he doubted not but that he should so well act his part, that they should all far the better for his enterprise. They all follow his direction, and at length by their joint endeavours, they so well apparel him that one would have taken him for some young Lord, although there was a kind of constraint in his behaviour, and that by his actions he sometimes showed of what stock he was. The tree is known by the fruit, and the leaf partly manifests the kind and the quality of the stalk. For Generosity appeareth as well by the outward behaviour, as it doth by Virtue which is the inward ornament, and whosoever will clothe a Rustic in the habit of a Gentleman, shall notwithstanding find in him the effects of his rude breeding and incivility. This youth being thus revested, hatched conceits which lifted him up even unto the clouds, he already thought himself one of the great Lords of France; yet for all his high conceits, they become his Lawgiver; and after mountains of golden promises, they command him upon pain of death, not to speak to any one upon any occasion whatsoever more than these two words Etiam and Maxim. Having thus grounded their intended deceit, they went to take up their lodgings in one of the best Inns about Paris, where being arrived, they feigned themselves to be of the house of the extraordinary Ambassador of Holland, and told the Host, that without fail, within four or five days the said Ambassador would pass that way; and for an assured testimony of what they spoke, they showed unto him the young Gentlemen, saying, that he was Nephew unto the Ambassador: The Master of the house (who deeply considered not what they spoke) believing them, entertained them very sumptuously with whatsoever they demanded: and the notice he took during their abode in his house, that all of them in general were (submissively) respective unto their young Master. (whom they blazed to be the Ambassador's Minion) made him and the rest of the Inn verily believe, that the reverence which they showed unto this youth was unfeigned, and what they spoke was undoubtedly true.  
Five days were now past wherein there was no news of the Ambassador, but what they themselves made in the house in the midst of their Jollities and Banquets. The Host knew not what to think of it, but not being able to sound the depth of their mysteries, he causeth his doubt to reflect upon the reverence which he saw was yielded unto this new made Gentleman; this withholdeth him from any outward show of suspicion, and feeds him with the hope of the future coming of the Ambassador. At length eight days being pleasantly slipped away, and no Ambassador appearing, our Vagabond Soldiers begin to dream that it was now time for them to take the air. And to finish their well projected Enterprise, one of them sendeth forth his Master's Lackey in fight of the Host, to give notice when the Ambassador approached, (but he kept not his promise in coming, for he was not yet parted from his house (and had before privately commanded him to return by three of the clock the next morning, to give them notice that their Master was drawing near unto the City. This Gullery was well practised, the Lackey failed not to come at the appointed hour, and knocking at the Gate, delivered unto them the welcome news of their master's approach: Whereupon they all start up with speed, and having commanded that their horses should be prepared, the Master of the Inn ariseth, calleth up his servants, and all of them confidently settle themselves in expectation of the Ambassador: when their horses were ready, one of them came boldly unto the Host, and told him, that they must of necessity go meet their Master, that he must prepare a breakfast against their return, which would be within two or three hours at furthest, and in the mean time they would leave their young Master with him: so they all parted and foraged the Country, having merrily recreated themselves at the expense of their Host.  
In the mean time they prepare all the Lodgings for the Ambassador; but noon being already past, and he not appearing, the Host begins to perceive the deceit; He therefore ascends up into the Chamber, but was much amazed when he saw there no other than a Country Clown in an old Hurden suit; the Host straight examineth him, and demands who he is, who those were that came to lodge in his Inn? to which he answereth not a word, and hardly could he draw from him, more than these two words, Etiam and Maxim: the Host notwithstanding who had been at extraordinary cost in entertaining them, could not be satisfied with Latin, he takes therefore my young Clown, and with the smarting blows of good rods teacheth him French; thus passed their deceit, their well acted Comedy, thus ending in a Tragedy.   

CHAP. II.  
A notable trick put upon a Physician.  
THere lived in the famous City of Paris, a wise and renowned Physician named Alcander, who had showed himself fortunately expert in diverse Cures, where it seemed that humane Art had not sufficient force to give a remedy; the fame whereof made him then much sought after. Now, to enter into the course of our History, you must understand, that as this Physician went to visit the sick in diverse parts of the City, one of the most notable and boldest Thiefs which were then in Paris, conceived that he should make a very good booty if he could entrap him, for he was reputed a very rich and wealthy man, by reason of his continual practice: this Conceit breed a Resolution and this Resolution brought forth its effect; for on a Saturday about nine a clock at night, as the said Alcander went to receive several sums of money from diverse houses where he had finished particular Cures; this fellow who could not have chosen out a fitter opportunity, nor a more favourable hour for his design, nor yet a more subtle device to overreach Alcander, being confident that he had then good store of moneys about him, and that he could not escape him; Having long attended his return in a little buy street, and at length perceiving him afar off, comes unto him in great haste, and with a feigned voice saith unto him, Sir▪ it is long since I have been so happy as to see you, yet I live not far hence, and now your experience which I have still admired, hath caused me to importune you to visit my wife, who for this ten or twelve days hath had such a Flux of her belly, that she cannot find any means to stop it, the longer it continueth the more it increaseth; I have therefore made bold to come unto you; I came even now from your house, where I stayed expecting you for at least an hour; I humbly entreat you Sir, to do me so much favour as to come with me: The seeming sincerity of his words, would have drawn on the most distrustful of the world to have believed them: Alcand●● Who was accustomed to be induced more by gain then fair words, afforded him this friendly and comfortable answer; Sir, God forbid that I should refuse to do my endeavour in that little skill which I have in the knowledge and practice of Physic; If I can effect any thing for the good of the Gentlewoman your wife, I will attend you thither with as good a will as my charge requireth. Upon these compliments this notable Wag brings him from street to street into his lodging, where having shut the door, he takes in the one hand a Pistol, and in the other hand a great purse, and turning himself furiously towards the Physician, Behold here (saith he) my wife which hath for a long time been tormented with the Flux in her belly, it is you that must find out a means to cure the disease, otherwise I myself am resolved to seek a remedy with this Pistol. The Physician trembling, and much dismayed, to see himself so suddenly surprised in this sort, would have cried out, but the other holding the Pistol to his breast, so terrified him, that he was constrained to forsake his own Purse, therewith to cure that which had the Flux. This part of the Tragedy being thus acted, the Thief would show to Alcander, that he was not yet altogether void of courtesy, in restoring 〈◊〉 him some part of his moneys, and promised him to conduct him to his lodging, holding still his Pistol in his hand, lest he should have made an outcry: being come unto the house of Alcander, the Thief knocks at the door, and taking his farewell of his Benefactor, told him, that he now only feared rain, and that he must needs lend him his Cloak, and fled: Alcander could never be otherwise paid for his Cure; for on the morrow this Rascal had changed both his Host and lodging.   

CHAP. III.  
A Tragicomedy acted by two 〈◊〉.  
We having already seen how fertile man is in wicked inventions, especially when an idle leisure in such sort sophisticateth the understanding, that he remaineth as it were buried in an accustomed sluggishness. We may yet more amply see it described in this ensuing discourse, where we shall behold, and as in a Table, see described the different Plots and Stratagems by which these men have sought to maintain themselves by an irreligious course of life, to the hurt of others, and their own final destruction.  
About the end of JULY 1611. when as the Court was not much troubled with rumours of Wars; Thiefs were much spoken of at Paris, among others, there were two who conceived they might show a trick of activity to a young Mercer newly married, which they put in practice after this manner.  
They both long since knew, that most commonly there was but one boy in the shop; so that watching a time when the Master was out of the way, one of them went unto a Chirurgeon dwelling in the street, called 〈◊〉, whom he calling aside, desired that when he brought unto him a youth of such and such a complexion (describing unto him, the age, visage, and stature of the Mercer's boy) he would be pleased to conduct him into his Chamber, for that he had a secret infirmity to acquaint him with, and that although he perhaps would at first be bashful and unwilling to declare unto him his grief, yet his parents would have him constrained to undergo the Cure.  
The Chirurgeon (who doubted not but that what he spoke was true, his words being delivered with such a natural liveliness (promised him not to neglect what he propounded, but that he would so deal in the business that he should have cause to rest satisfied; and would not only draw the boy to confess his infirmity, but would undertake perfectly to cure him: whereupon this crafty Knave (joyful of this invention, which promised unto him good success) came unto his Comrade, and told him of that which he had so well performed: consulting together how they should draw the boy who kept the hope to the said Chirurgeon, which they having contrived, he who had begun the Plot, came into the shop, and asked to see some wares; but by ill fortune, as the boy opened them, the Mistress of the house came also, which made him doubt that he should not finish his well projected enterprise; he could then willingly have wished himself further off, and that he had not entered, since, as the case stood, nothing promised him a good issue in his affairs: Nevertheless, to forsake a thing so well forwarded, argued Cowardice, he therefore at length resolved to try his fortune.  
He causeth to be brought unto him all sorts of the best Stuffs, and bargained for a whole piece of that he best liked, saying, that his Master a very rich Chirurgeon (whose name he telleth, and the street wherein he resided) sent him to make choice of a piece; He therefore desired the Mistress to permit the boy to bring the Stuff away with him unto his Master, and that then he should receive the monies according to agreement: This young woman little doubting that her new Chapman would have deceived her) commands the boy to follow the Gentleman with the Stuff, and remember, said she, to bring money for it, upon these words they departed, and had no sooner turned their backs but this fellow's Companion meeteth them as it were by chance; and the better to act their parts, he demands of his Comrade whence he came? he answered, from his Master, and that he was sent to let one blood, but have you, said he, done that which my Master commanded you? have you bought the Stuffs? The boy who heard all these words, verily believed what they spoke to be true. Our two Vagabonds being parted one from the other, he who conducted the Mercer's boy, took occasion to tell him that the other was his companion, and so wrought, that he made him more and more confidently believe what he said; now as for the business in hand, when you come to my Master, said he, you may leave your Stuff below in the shop, and may ascend with him into the chamber, where he will pay you your money, perhaps he will seek to abate of the price, but for all that, when he knoweth that I have agreed with you for it, he will not fail to content you: The young youth being thus instructed, they at length came unto the house, and entered into the shop, where the Chirurgeon seemed joyful to see his new Patient, Is this (said he) the youth of whom you told me? Yes Sir, answered the other, you may if it please you take him into your Chamber to give him content, I pray you walk up said the Chirurgeon, at which words the boy leaveth the Stuff he had under his Cloak in the shop, and followeth the Chirurgeon directly to the Chamber; the other seeing the shop void of people, takes the Stuff and runs away with it: The Chirurgeon in the mean time examineth the youth concerning his disease; and told him that there was no danger for him to discover it unto him, and that if humane remedies could give him ease, he hoped quickly to cure him of his malady.  
The boy, quite amazed, not knowing what the Chirurgeon meaned, answered, That (he thanked God) he was free from any disease.  
The Chirurgeon, who was entreated to press him by threatenings if he would not make known his grief by fair means, persisteth in his remonstrances, My friend, said he unto him, diseases the more inveterate they are, the more difficult they are to be cured, the grief that waxeth old, taketh root, and men are often constrained to make incision, where (if applied in time) there needed not more than an ordinary Plaster.  
The youth, who expected nothing from him but money (that being the best salve in these days) told him, That he came for no other cause but to receive money for his Stuffs.  
The Chirurgeon perceiving that he used all his fair persuasions to little or no purpose, thought he might draw him to tell him his infirmities by threatening; he therefore began to wax very rough with him, but when he heard him speak of Stuffs and Ware, he began to smell out the cheat, and asked him of what Ware he spoke; the boy exclaimed wonderfully against him, call him Cheater, and told him that he should pay for the stuff: but in the end he was turned home without either Money or Stuffe. This may serve as a warning to young Apprentices, not to suffer themselves to be led by the fair words of any man, but to be careful of their affairs, and to be watchful of those things committed to their custody, by which means they shall deserve praise of all men, and avoid many the like dangers which they shall run into.   

CHAP. FOUR  
A Cheater's selfe-invitation.  
IMpudence is the ordinary portion of Thiefs, and few are found among them, that are not infected with that vice.  
Garandine, as impudent as crafty (and who for his thefts was executed at Roven) as he was one day at Paris, walking from place to place, as he was still accustomed, the better to entrap Novices; took notice of two Citizens, who having not for a long time seen one the other, embraced, welcomed, and mutually rejoiced one in each others company: He who still kept one ear for the Town, and another for the Country, perceiving them discourse of their particular affairs, drew by little and little near unto them, yet without seeming any way desirous to participate of their discourse; At length, after much talk, the one of these earnestly entreated the other to come the next day by eleven of the clock to his house, there to take part of a poor dinner with him, and to bring with him some friend to bear him company; the other faithfully promised him not to fail to endeavour the increase of his happiness, by visiting him at the appointed hour, and withal, signified, that he much honoured him by his invitation.  
Garandine, who had with an attentive ear harkened to this loving invitation, was persuaded that he might then perform some exploit: He resolves therefore to follow his intended Host afar off, and to learn the street and place where he resided, to the end that he might not fail the next day to be there as well as he who was invited; which having taken notice of, he failed not the next day at the prefixed hour, to take his walk about the place, expecting when he who was invited to dinner would come, that he might serve him for an Vmbra; as the ancients were accustomed, who when any were invited to a feast, always took one to accompany them.  
He having at length perceived the invited guest coming afar off, so ordered his steps that they both met at the same instant, just over against the very door; whereupon, the Merchant thinking that Gerandine had been invited by the master of the house, contested in humility who should enter last; the other would not do as the shadow which lead Socrates one day to a banquet and entered before its Master, which was contrary to custom, this was the cause that he entered last: Where being both welcomed by the master of the house, they sat down, and while dinner was preparing they entertained themselves in discourses of News, and relations of such things as passed in Court. Garandine in the mean time had not his eyes settled but in their unsettled motions, he gazed every way to spy out an opportunity to provide for himself before his departure: The table being furnished, while they wash their hands, Garandine cast his eye on the Basin (which was of silver, and well worth 200 crowns) and took notice that they had left it in the room adjoining, which was the Kitchin.  
The Master of the house thought that his friend had brought Gerandine with him, and that he was of his acquaintance; And the other on the contrary, thought that the Master of the house had invited him to dinner. It must needs be that Gerandine had a good wit, and that he carried himself very cunningly knavish in this place; for he was examined by both, and answered very pertinently to all that was demanded. Dinner being ended, and the cloth taken away, they for a time recreated themselves with discourse, until that Garandine having perceived that the servant was gone forth, and that the Mistress of the house was gone into an upper Chamber, Sirs (said he) I pray you excuse me if I am somewhat unmannerly, there are some urgent occasions which call me hence, but I will not fail to return unto you within this quarter of an hour at most; and so having taken his leave of them, he descended into the Kitchen, and took the silver Basin under his arm, and fled.  
He was no sooner departed, but that the two Citizens (but especially he who was invited) began to inquire who that honest Gentleman was? The other answered that he knew him not, and that he thought him to have been some friendly companion of his; whereupon, behold them mightily astonished, they call the Mistress, to whom they relate the whole Story, but in the mean time they thought not of their Basin which was stolen, until an hour after, when the servant was returned from the City it was found missing, and the Thief known. Thus got Garandine his dinner freely, but he dear paid for the Basin afterwards at Roven.   

CHAP. V.  
The notable impudence of AMERTIS.  
WE may well term it an Iron or Leaden age, since we find in it but hardhearted and heavy actions, and not to be imagined by common senses of reasonable men; I may truly say, That the spring and fountain from whence so many mischiefs proceed, is a certain kind of ungracious Impudence, whereto we are all for the most part inclined, and which by our custom becoming habitual, changeth itself into a nature in the end: We may see a notable example thereof in the person of Amertis, a man who had traveled through most parts of Christendom, a man who had great correspondencies▪ both in his native Country and among foreign Nations, and one who was much practised in the affairs of the World.  
As this man one day walked in the Hall of the Palace, with an intent to spy out men's actions, he saw a Merchant of Lions, who was with one of his associates, talking about some Wares which he had formerly delivered unto him: Amertis seriously viewing the Merchant, and in a deep contemplation, considering with himself whether he could invent some trick to surprise him; but as he ruminated on the execution of his not yet resolved enterprise, he heard three or four Gentlemen talking of him; the one said that he was of Lions, and that he knew him very well; the other said that he had made a Voyage into Italy with him, and that he yet owed him some moneys which he had lent the Merchant at Milan: To all which Amertis very attentively listened, so that at length, he by this and other discourse learned who he was, where he had been, and about what time; to be brief, with the memory he had, which was very quick, he retained all that which he heard spoken of him.  
Not long after, he came unto him (finding him among three or four men of quality with whom he sometimes dealt) and saluteth him with a profound reverence; the other having never seen him, before, turneth towards him, and resalutes him with these words; Sir, excuse me, I pray you, I cannot call to mind the remembrance of you, and yet methinks I have seen you some where: Sir (replied he unto him) I have had the honour to make a Voyage into Italy with you; The Merchant who could not remember all those who fifteen years since had been in his company, being twelve or thirteen in number, believed that he said true, and took upon him to acknowledge it.  
Amertis' conjecturing well of this new feigned old acquaintance, after much discourse of several things which he affirmed to have happened since they last saw one another, began to tell him, That he should do him a very great pleasure if he could now help him to the hundred Crowns he had formerly lent him; whereat the Merchant being much amazed, and not knowing what Amertis intended by those words, answered that he ought him nothing; I cannot believe, replied the other, that a man of your rank and quality (who seemed always to have esteemed honour, and ever made profession of an honest life) should now have so bad a Conscience as to deny me that which is my due, that were not only to violate the Rites of friendship and of all civil conversation, but also to subvert that good opinion men have hitherto conceived of you both at Lions and in Paris; do not you remember that I lent you this sum in Milan? you can by no just means deny it, you will incur a general blame if you should seek to enrich yourself with the goods of another.  
The Merchant being perplexed, not knowing what answer to make to his so impudent demand, told him, That perhaps he had lent him some Money in his Voyage, but that surely he had long since repaid; The other denying it, persisteth eagerly in his first demand.  
Those that were with the Merchant, perceiving some appearance of truth in Amertis' words (not discovering the falsehood that lay hid under them) were of opinion that the Merchant wronged him, in refusing to pay him a due debt: And truly, a man who had never seen the proceedings and countenance of Amertis, would never have judged that he had intended deceit.  
Upon this contestation they all retire to their several houses, but Amertis pursued his old friend, even unto his lodging, to the end he might constrain him to restitution; at length, being not able at that time to prevail, he remits his cause until the next morning, and then finding him in an honourable assembly, he moved him concerning his former demand.  
The Merchant being much discontented to see himself so hardly pressed by this impudent affronter, before such worthy company, fearing to hazard the loss of reputation, and undergo an unjust censure for it, entreats one of his company to take this debt upon him in his name, that they might try how this business would that way succeed; whereupon, he that had received the watchword, seeing that Amertis was resolutely bend to pursue the merchant, came in full assembly and said unto him, Sir, you wrong yourself, to take this man for him that ought you the debt whereof you speak, you are mistaken Sir, it is not he, but I that owe it, (and yet everyman knew that he had never been in Italy.)  
Amertis, as crafty as a man could possibly be, took occasion by the lock, and answered him, Sir, it is very true as you yourself confess before these worthy Gentlemen, that you owe me one hundred Crowns, for your part you cannot deny it, but this is not the debt, for I lent him this sum in Italy, and he must of necessity pay it. Thus he so strongly convinced them both, the one by probable circumstances, and the other by his own confession; that for fear of losing their reputation in so honourable a presence, and to be rid of his importunity, and future trouble, they were constrained to pay him the one half in hand, promising him the rest shortly after, which he with much entreaty accepted of.   

CHAP. VI  
A Merchant cheated by a pretended Churchwarden.  
THere lived in Paris a certain Cope-marchant named Clarinde, who was extreme rich, and so given to the vice of Avarice, that he could seldom be at rest, or enjoy any other content then by numbering his almost numberless Crowns; some whereof he was accustomed to carry in a great Purse, which so heavily weighed down his pocket, as if the burden thereof intended to crush him even unto Hell before his time.  
This Purse was noated by cheating Rascals (who are never idle, but always going from street to street to seek advantages) who having: oftentimes passed and repassed by the shop of this Clarinde, and considering with himself what plot he might put in practice to deprive him of it; after a revolution of thoughts, resolved to make trial of one of the strangest inventions that ever was heard of. He takes one of his Companions upon the New-bridge (for that is the place of their ordinary retreat) and clothing both himself and his Companion like Husbandmen, they for a time consult whether it were best for him to enter or retire, for he saw many Chapmen in the shop, which made him despair of arriving at the period of his designs; for if he should have entered in among so many people, he could not have practised his invention with a clear conveyance; again, the habit which he had taken purposely for that intent, urged him not to desist from his intended enterprise, but to try the favour of fortune; and moreover, his Companion so far pressed him, that he was suspended as it were between two contrary opinions; In this case stood the Cutpurse, he durst neither go forward nor backward; the nearer boldness made him approach, the more the fear of being perceived willed him retire; at length he resolved to attend, until that the Chapmen, who were then in the shop, were departed, and to this he was the rather induced, by the hope he had to increase the gain by his delay, for he conceived (as it proved true indeed) that the Merchant having sold that which they in the shop were bargaining for, there would arise the more profit unto him, if he should have the good fortune to obtain his Purse: In the mean time his companion seemed much discontented, that he saw not as yet, the expected issue of that which his Comrade had so confidently undertaken; the other encouraged him the best he could, to attend a little while, until that the shop were void, which he did, but with much impatience.  
At length, he that was Captain in this exploit, having noted that the Chapmen were departed, came to advertise his Companion, that he should stand Sentinel on the end of the Merchant's Bridge, there to receive from him what he brought; he in the mean time goes into the shop, where finding the Merchant alone, he causeth him to open diverse Copes, telling him that he was a Parishioner of Gentilly, and that being not long since chosen Churchwarden, he was appointed to buy a fair Cope for the Parson of the Parish, he desired him therefore to show him those that were good, and to use him well in the price. Clarinde, who thirsted inwardly with the greedy desire of gain, showeth him diverse sorts of Copes, among these the Cutpurse made choice of one to which he seemed to have a better liking then the rest, he therefore cheapens it, but before he would fully agree on the price, he tells him that he would desire to see whether the Cope were well made, and whether for size or length it would fit the Curate of the Parish, who he said was much about his stature; he therefore entreats him to do him so much favour as to assay it; Clarinde (nothing at all doubting of that which his pretended Churchwarden would do) puts on the Cope on his back, which the Churchwarden having exactly viewed, seemed to dislike, for shortness, in that part where the Pouch hung; the Merchant supposing the cause of this seeming shortness to be no other than the bearing out of his Pouch underneath, unhanged it and laid it by on the Counter; his Chapman reviewing him, said he now liked it well, but his Purse better; with that he nimbly snatched it, and ran away; the Merchant in his Cope (for he had no leisure to put it off) ran after, the one for his money, the other for his life; the Cutpurse, who had outrun him about forty paces, told the people by the way as he ran, that they must not by any means stay him, for that he that ran after him was distracted, to others he said, that he ran for a wager; Clarind notwithstanding ceaseth not his pursuit, but his legs being too stiff, and his joints not well suppled, and the world gazing more on the fluttring of his gay Cope then on him or his Cutpurse, he at length lost sight of his Churchwarden, and was constrained, with shame, to return to his house, with the loss of all the money which he had received in eight days before.   

CHAP. VII.  
Polidamors entertainment among Thiefs.  
THe City of Paris hath always been accounted the ordinary refuge and retreat of Thiefs and Vagabonds, and (which one would admire) many of them maintain themselves so well, and go so complete in their apparel, conforming their discourse and outward demeanour thereunto, that men would often take them for the chief gentlemen in court.  
Let us now see what happened to Polidamor by the enterprises of some of these nightwalking Vagabonds. Polidamor was an Advocate, as famous for his wisdom, as renowned for his eloquence, he only was spoken of in the Palace and Courts of Plead; his name was the ordinary discourse of men of honour, and he was admired of all that knew him.  
These plotters of Mischief, who lie always in Ambush, expecting their prey, hearing some talk of this worthy man, resolved among themselves to try their cunning to entrap him: The complot being resolved on, and they (knowing his lodging, which was not far from the Cordeliers) often sought the opportunity to surprise him, but yet for three or four times they failed; but at length, he coming only attended on by a little Lackey, near Saint Andrew's of Arts, three of them having perceived him, presently beset him, and there rifle him; but finding no store of money about him, they took from him a new Cloak of very fine Spanish-cloth lined through with Plush: Polidamor, who wonderfully vexed that he had been after such a sort un-cloaked, said unto them; Sirs, I humbly entreat you to afford me so much favour as to permit me (since you have taken away my Cloak) to redeem it upon reasonable terms, I shall willingly give unto you for it more than it will elsewhere afford you; if therefore my proposition be acceptable unto you, to morrow, at what hour you shall please to appoint, I will bring you money for it: the Thiefs hearing him speak after▪ that sort, answered him, That he should not fail the next day, by six a clock at night, to be in that place, and that then they would restore unto him his Cloak, but withal, told him, That they were already informed of his lodging and quality, and therefore charged him not to bring any one with him to serve him for a safe Convoy, for if he did, they vowed his ruin, and gave him just cause to despair (if he came accompanied) of ever returning to his house.  
Polidamor, terrified with such threatenings, promised them not to fail to be there alone at th'appointed hour, in the mean time he was constrained to return to his house without his Cloak, which he thought very unseemly in a man of his quality, and could hardly digest it, he being a man not accustomed to such rude entertainments; but in this case he must make a virtue of necessity by enduring it with patience, not knowing well how to remedy it.  
On the morrow he takes his purse well furnished with money, and departs from his house about half an hour after five, and came to the place where the former night he had lost his Cloak, there he for a time attended; at length, immediately after six, he perceived a Coach with three or four Gentlemen in it, Polidamor little thought those whom he expected were such kind of people; these men seeing him stand at the appointed place, caused likewise their Coach to stop, whereupon, one of them privately inquires of him, whether he were the man from whom they had, the night before, taken away a Cloak lined with Plush? he answered, That he was the man, and that he came thither upon no other business, but to redeem it according to his promise; Upon this answer, one of them came unto him, and whispering him in his ear, demanded whether he were accompanied, or not, and told him that if he were, his life was in hazard: he having vowed unto them that he was alone, was taken up by them, and placed in the midst of the Coach, where they hoodwink him, one of them holding a Pistol at his breast lest he should make an outcry; behold Polidamor greatly amazed and terrified, but he was much encouraged when they promised not any way to hurt him, or do him mischief; they presently cause the boot of the Coach to be shut close, and command the Coachman to drive away with speed: Polidamor in the mean time remained as it were in a trance, not knowing whither he was conveyed.  
Having swiftly hurried from street to street, they came at length to a most stately house, where the gate being presently opened, they enter; then began Polidamor to redouble his fear, and to expect the hour of his death, for he never thought to escape; at length, his eyes being uncovered, they led him strait to a great Hall, where he found the Tables covered with all kinds of most exquisite meats, he was mightily astonished to see himself in the midst of so many people, all in good order, and so well clothed, that a man would have judged them to have been of some high quality: They told him that he needed not to fear, for that he was in good company, and that they had not brought him thither, but that he might do them the honour to take part of a poor Supper with them, but Polidamor could have wished himself at Supper elsewhere in a place of more security; for he could not devise, either in what part of the city he then was, nor conceive what they were with whom he was to Sup.  
In the mean time, having washed their hands, every one took his place, and had they been Princes they could not have been better attended, yet they caused Polidamor to sit at the upper end of the Table, who had he been further from both ends would have had a better appetite; He notwithstanding made show of eating with the rest, judging, that seeing he was in the midst of Wolves, he could not do otherwise then imitate their actions; When they had all Supped, and that the Tables were uncovered and Cloth taken away, some of them came to discourse with Polidamor, and after a complemental manner, told him, That they were sorry that he had eaten so little with them; to which he knew not what to answer, for he feared lest by the rash utterance of some word which might be wrong taken, he should provoke them to anger, and to draw on his own ruin, yet he took courage, and deliberately gave them respective answers▪ While some of them were in discourse, one took a Lute, another a Viol, and so recreated themselves; At length, after much talk, he, who the day before had taken the Cloak from Polidamor, came unto him, and asked him whether he had brought the Money which he promised? Polidamor answered that it was ready, and thereupon told out thirty pistols upon the end of the Table (the Cloak being well worth forty:) This being done, they showed unto him a little private Chamber, which seemed unto him a very rich Wardrobe, hanged round about with Coats and Cloaks of great value, there they bade him cull out his; Polidamor was amazed to see such costly Cloaks, and began to take courage; and having found his Cloak among the rest, he returned again into the Hall, behaving himself towards them with all submissive respects, for he feared that he should not part upon so good terms, neither did he; for when he was ready to depart, one came and told him, That the Coachman who had brought him thither, and was to conduct him back, must be rewarded for his pains with a pistolet, and that he must likewise pay for his Supper with them: Polidamor, unwillingly liberal, giveth them two pistolets more, and so took his leave of them: The Coach was suddenly provided, whereinto he entering, and having his eyes bound up, he was brought unto the same place where they had formerly taken him up, there did they uncover his eyes and set him on foot, delivering him a Billet, sealed with green Wax, wherein was written these words in great Letters, THE GREAT BAND HATH LET HIM PASS. and withal, advised him if he met with any one that would offer him any kind of violence, to show unto him this Passport; telling him, That by that means he should be permitted quietly to pass, So Polidamor parted from them, happy to have escaped out of their hands with life: But scarce had he gone into the second street, but he found three other Thiefs ready to rifle him; and now he who at first made no account of the Billet which they had given him, bethought himself that perhaps it might stand him in stead; he therefore presents it unto them, which was read by one of them that carried a dark Lantern, so they suffered him to pass and return unto his house, where his wife remained in great perplexity, not knowing what was become of her husband; but her anxious fear was soon turned into joy by his presence, and into delight by the Relation which he made unto her of his adventures. She, like a loving wife, not regarding the loss which he had sustained, seeing smile-frowning Fortune had showed her constant inconstancy, by converting his former loss and danger, into a safe return.   

CHAP. VIII.  
A prodigious History of the treacheries of Valesio.  
THose men who are persuaded that they can bring the greatest things to perfection, find themselves most often entangled by their natural imbecility and weakness, and most commonly, the mischiefs which they contrive against their neighbours, and the evils which they project against them, take not success but to their own loss and disgrace; yea, those very darts which they most despitefully cast at others, do often, by God's justice, reverberate against themselves: Antiquity furnisheth me with many examples; but our latter Age hath noated out one above the rest, as prodigious and fearful, as beyond the sense and common opinion of men.  
There hath not past an Age wherein the great Creator hath not made some signs of his just indignation appear, to punish the treacheries of those that embrace actions so wicked and abominable, as if hatched in hell, rather than sprung from man's invention. The History which I now describe unto you is true, and happened not long since; the sequel whereof is as much to be admired, as his end, who was the cause of it, was prodigious and horrible.  
Valesio was borne in Berne a Canton of Switzerland, and was sent by his father to the City of Lucerne, to be there instructed; he had a spirit full of subtlety, and fit to undergo great matters, had he been honestly inclined: In Lucerne he for a time studied the Law, where during his abode he often resorted to the house of an Innkeeper, named Lucio of Zurich, a man rich and wealthy, with whom he grew so familiarly acquainted, that he could neither eat nor drink but in his company; he lodged over against his house, and it seemed that heaven was not favourable unto him when he enjoyed not the company of this man; but his affection increased when it had taken footing within his house, and when he became enamoured with the beauty of his only daughter: This young Valesio being inflamed with an earnest desire of enjoying the feature of this maid, the oftener frequented the house, under pretence of visiting the Father, when as indeed his greatest happiness consisted in beholding the beauty of the daughter; their eyes had already given to each other friendly interchanges, and had privately practised an alliance in their thoughts, by the encounter of their rays; and their hearts quickly approved of that within, which their eyes had practised without; so that Valesio perceiving his affection seconded by a favourable Zephir, resolved to acquaint his Love with that which his heart as yet concealed; The father being advertised thereof, and perceiving that the inclinations and affections of these Lovers were mutual, knit them together in marriage, under the sweet bonds of Hymen; happy, and thrice happy had they been, had they not abused it, but finished the number of their years, without straying from the path of Virtue. They lived two years and an half together, in all sorts of Temporal delight; at the end whereof, the father died of a linger fever, happy in that he survived not to be a spectator of the ensuing Tragedy. By the death of Lucio, all the inheritance fell into the possession of Valesio, (for his wife's mother deceased long before.) He therefore resolved to take the same course of life, as his father in law had done before him, being that he found the house so well furnished: The good entertainment which he at the beginning gave unto his guests, purchased him a good report of every one; so that if any man desired to entertain a friend sumptuously, whither must they go but to the house of Valesio; there were they joyfully received, and used with all kind of contentment; but at length, the swinge which Valesio had taken, made him so swell with pride, that he began to forget his family, that he might the better forget himself; the courtesy which he formerly showed unto his guests, was now changed into most cruel tyranny, which he often exercised upon travellers, killing and massacring them like unto another Lycaon: his house heretofore the receptacle and seat of courtesy, was now become the cutthroat and deadly place where poor Passengers were entrapped; he hacked them most cruelly in pieces, and made Pies therewith (an unnatural and monstrous barbarism,) he durst not have practised these cruelties towards the Citizens of Lucerne, for so his wickedness had been discovered: the delicate relish of his meat which he provided, drew unto him a multitude of guests, which they with joyful greediness devour, whiles that he (Villain) laughs at their simplicity; little thinking, that he himself should shortly feel the just judgement of God, heavily lighting upon him for his monstrous and barbarous cruelties. A strange blindness in humane conceits, which persuade themselves, that there is no Divinity to revenge or punish their heinous crimes and misdeeds; we so flatter ourselves in our wicked prosperities that we cannot believe we shall ever fall into those miserable punishments which we deserve. Valeio could never believe, that the Heavens would reveal or revenge the death of those innocent Souls, which he had most barbarously slain: but the Great mover of the Heavens could no longer suffer so cruel crimes: the blood of so many poor wretches unjustly shed, cried for vengeance before the glorious majesty of his face; and yet this great and merciful God stayed for a time the fury of his justice, to hearken to the sweet requests of mercy, but he (wretched Caitiff) deferred so long repentance for his heinous misdeeds, until the weight of so many deadly crimes, drew the arm of the just vengeance of God to punish him, as severely and exemplarily, as the faults deserved.  
It happened after the secret murders of so many people, that a certain Merchant of France returning from Bohemia, was in passing that way desirous to see the Cantons of the Swissers, and particularly the City of Lucerne; he therefore came unto this City, where being arrived he inquires for an Inn, and was directed to the house of Valesio, as the best and most renowned Inn of the City; he goes thither, and was favourably received and welcomed by those cruel Sirens, who alured passengers unto them by the harmonious consorts of their voices, that they might afterward devour them, and make them their prey: he having visited the City, and viewed part of the rarities thereof, (as the stately Monastery, and the River Russi, which passeth through the Town, and runneth forth of a great Lake as doth the River Rhine, out of the Lake of Constance) was desirous to take his rest: Here the confidence which the guest ordinarily reposeth (according to the custom of France) in the Master of the Inn, made the Merchant disburden himself of two thousand Crowns which he had in gold, and to demand of Valesio, a place where he might put them in safe keeping: this Innkeeper, who was always double in his works, had a strong and massy Cupboard and two Keys which might easily open it; whereof he gave one unto the Merchant to put his money in safeguard, but kept the other close unto himself, to serve his own opportunities: night approaching, he was tempted to bereave his guest, both of life and money: but whether it were that God would otherwise dispose of him, or that his own life was already come to its period; his wife who noated a comeliness and courtesy more than ordinary in this Merchant, dissuaded him from so bloody a design, and urged him to embrace another less cruel, but such as must cost him his life.  
The Merchant rose early in the morning to view the rest of the City, which he had not seen the day before. Valesio in the mean time openeth the Cupboard, rippeth the bottom of the bag, and taketh a note in writing of the quantity of all the monies in general, and likewise of every sort of coin in particular which he there found; then having neatly stitched up the bottom of the bag, he locked the Cupboard, and acted his part with such subtle dexterity, that it was impossible for a man to discern that it had been touched: but he who penetrates into the depth of our most secret thoughts, easily discovered this craft, as may be noted by that which ensues.  
The Merchant having satisfied his curiosity, and seen (in passing) that which was most worthy of note in the Town, returned to his Inn; and having paid what they demanded, he took forth his bag and went to horseback. Valesio presently thinking that he had in vain opened the Theatre (and begun the Play) if he finished not the Tragedy, breaks open the bottom of his Cupboard, and presently begins to raise Hue and Cry after the Thief, pretending that the Merchant had robbed him; His neighbours were instantly in an uproar, (for he had so long worn the cloak of Dissimulation, and outwardly behaved himself, that every man esteemed his word as an Oracle) insomuch that many of his best friends prepared themselves for pursuit; the Host showeth them which way his guest went, they hasten after and overtake him two Leagues from Lucerne; they seize on his person, as on a malefactor; accuse him of theft, and bring him back bound hand and foot into the Town; whereat he being amazed, seems, by his silence, as it were to confess the deed: They lead him before a Justice, who sendeth him to prison. That part of the Tragedy being acted, they prepare his Indictment; and the Host showing his memorial, intreateth them not to examine him until they had perused his note; He makes it apparent that his Cupboard was broken; and upon the opening of the bags, the Judges found therein the same sum and sorts of Coin specified in the Hosts note. The most wary and wisest Judge might have been encumbered, and overshot themselves in so intricate a business. The Evidence of the deed being thus almost sifted out (in man's judgement) caused the poor Merchant to be shut up in a straight dungeon, and there to be laden with Irons.  
Thus this poor innocent groaned in darksome caves, not knowing any means of his delivery: Wretch that I am (would he say) must I needs perish in this obscure place, not having so much as intended that whereof they accuse me? What Celestial powers have I so offended, that I should be reduced to such misery? was I borne under so cruel Constellations that my own innocence should betray me, and bereave me of my life? O great God who in thy just judgements canst penetrate into the depth of this secret and unjust accusation, Wilt thou suffer my fault to be made criminal in this sort? And must I be the shuttlecock and sport of treason? Revenge and reveal this their injustice, (I beseech thee) and suffer me not to perish in this depth of misery. As he pronounced these words with an extreme grief and unexpressable passion, a Devil appeared unto him in an humane shape, wearing on his head a red Cap, and approaching him, inquires, what his grief was, and tells him, that if he would give him his soul, he would deliver him out of those Fetters wherein he was wrongfully shackled? Many in these days, and always have been, who would have redeemed themselves out of these temporary pains, to have cast themselves into the eternal, thereby to have regained their overvalued liberty; but this Merchant having firm hope in the Divine Providence, answered, that he was resolved never to commit so heinous a crime, and that he had rather dye innocent of the offence, whereof they accused him, then to live guilty of renouncing his Creator. This Devil, destinated by the Almighty for to be a punisher of Valesio's wickedness, notwithstanding offereth him his service, & promiseth him certainly to procure his liberty, provided, he would follow his advice; he than told him, that the very day whereon they would bring him to execution, he would be present to defend his cause that he should therefore boldly make choice of him for his advocate, against the Impostures of his Host, that he should know him by his red Cap, and that he by so doing should be by him clearly freed from his innocent danger. Now it is to be noted, that when any among the Cantons of the Swissers, will condemn a man to death, the Senate pronounceth his sentence in the midst of the Assembly upon a Scaffold, and giveth permission to the condemned to make choice of any of the company to defend his cause: this custom hath been anciently practised, and yet is continued unto this day.  
The day being come, whereon this criminal should be punished, he was brought unto the place of execution, where an infinite number of people attended him, all of them being verily persuaded that this crime (whereof he was falsely accused) should be rigorously punished, for an example to others for ensuing times: They bring him on the Scaffold, his Host being there present, and pronounce the sentence of his death, demanding of him (according unto custom) whether he had any one in the Company that would plead for him; he, in this miserable plight looks about him, and espying the red Bonnet among the rest. Although (says he) my innocence speaks sufficiently of itself to justify my actions, having always lived honestly, and in good credit, yet since I may claim the liberty of your custom, I make choice of him in the red Cap, whom you may there see, to justify me: upon these words every one looking upon the Man, of whom he spoke, could not tell what to imagine, for he looked not like a Swisser, either in habit or countenance, he ascends upon the Scaffold, causeth the Host to approach, begins to declare the naked truth of the matter, confronts, and confutes the witnesses, strikes a fear & terror into the hearts and consciences of his accusers, and plainly lays open the wickedness of Valesio. The people in the mean time wonder at his boldness, and admire his eloquence, he at length declares the fraud, making it appear the bags were ripped: then he brings the Judges to the Inn, where he discovers unto them the place where they were accustomed to hide humane flesh; Valesio notwithstanding insisteth on the contrary, and by superficial reasons, endeavours to palliate his wickedness, still affirming that the Merchant had stolen the said money from him; the Devil willing to catch him in his trap, said unto him, sithence thou assurest with such probabilities that this innocent is guilty of death, and that he hath robbed thee, wilt thou on thy faith swear that he hath done it? The Host presently, the better to confirm the justness of his accusation, said, it was he alone which stole away my money, and if it were not so as I have affirmed, I wish to God that the Devil may carry me away both body and soul; the Devil without prolonging the matter, takes upon him a most horrible shape, snatcheth him up, and carrieth him away through the midst of the wide air: thus paid he for treacherosly accusing the poor innocent, and so inhumanely massacring those, who he should have kindly entertained.  
The Merchant was presently set at liberty, with his moneys restored unto him, the Judges desiring pardon for committing so great an error, in so rashly condemning him; For which, he desired no other satisfaction at his departure, but an Act to be recorded, and a Certificate made of the present History, to leave to posterity, the never dying remembrance of the infamous treachery of the ever dying Valesio.   

CHAP. IX.  
A young Cutpurse made free.  
THat I may recreate your mind after the former sad relation, I shall here relate unto you, a bold deed and pleasant History, performed in the Churchyard of Saint Innocents' in Paris; the truth whereof many of the neighbouring Merchants can yet witness, and it was in this manner:  
There was a young Boy newly arrived at Paris, who had associated himself with diverse Vagabonds and Cutpurses, there did this Boy remain for the space of fifteen days, without doing any thing that might be termed notorious: at length, (as every thing hath a beginning) the assembly of Rogues resolved, sithence that he would be of their society, to make him free: for in this trade, it is not as in others, wherein men must be first Scholars, before they be Masters; or Aprentices, before they become Freemen: here is but a word and a blow, one nip takes a Purse, and in the subtlety thereof consists the perfection of the Trade.  
Now there was one among the rest of the company, who was enjoined to take this Boy abroad, and to appoint him some kind of trial, whereby they might be assured of his courage and aptness to the performance of exploits. He therefore takes forth his new Comrade, and brings him from one part of the Town to the other, still expecting an opportunity of doing mischief; at length being come into the Cloister of Saint Innocent, they perceived an old Woman kneeling on a Tomb, there praying for the souls departed; whereupon this old Hangman told the Boy, that if he would become Master of his Trade and be of their fraternity, he must with a resolute subtlety go and cut the old Woman's purse; to whom the Boy answered, that it was impossible for him so to do without being perceived, and therefore desired to go try in some other place where there were a throng of people, that he might the better perform what he intended without evident dange, for that to attempt cutting off her purse, she kneeling by herself, there being store of people in other places of the Church, which might easily apprehend him, was as he said, mere madness: but the old Fox so urged him by persuasions and threatenings, that he was at length constrained to undertake it; so the Boy approached the Tomb, and kneeled down close by the old woman; she (nothing doubting of the intended roguery, but contrariwise thinking that Devotion had brought him thither) held on in her prayers, and was not a jot interrupted in them: Now the young Rogue was in great perplexity of mind, not knowing whether it were best for him to adventure, or not; which his guide misdoubting (by reason of his long stay) came and made a sign unto him to dispatch; whereupon, the boy encouraged with the hope of his being free by that exploit, slily cut her Purse; and so with a slow pace withdrew himself, and being very joyful of what he had done, came unto his guide, who expected him in the Cloister: but when as the old Villain had looked into the Purse, and found but little in it, he told his young Companion, that he had not yet passed Master of his art, for that he would show him one trick of his Trade, which he had not yet learned; whereupon he took him by the hand, and gripping him fast, cried out unto the Woman, that that young fellow had cut her Purse; the Woman presently looking about her, found her strings there, but her Purse gone: as soon as the people heard it, they hastened towards the Boy; but the news was no sooner spread, but the Boy was gone, yet not so far, but that whole troops followed him, who being overtaken, was sound beaten with Cudgels, every one thronging to see the young Cutpurse; among others, there were diverse Merchants of the street, who came out of their Shops with little Pouches by their sides, which the old Villain taking notice of, thrust himself into the thickest of the throng, and there cut off four or five of their Pouches: the Merchants at length perceiving, that while they were expostulating with the Boy, some other cut their Pouches, which they wondered at, and well noating the behaviour of the old Thief, they upon the sudden found him cutting off another: this made all the people to forsake the Boy, and to follow him, by which means the Boy escaped; but the old Cutpurse was by one of the nimblest footmen overtaken, who trusting too much to the hold which he had of one of his ears, suffered him likewise to escape from him; for this crafty old Hangman, having formerly lost his ears, for some such mischievous exploit, procured others to be so artificially made, that they seemed as natural as others: by one of these was he taken, which easily coming off, gave occasion of wonder to those that pursued him; and the mean while that they stood wondering at that, he escaped to the Grove, into a throng of people, who were there assembled to see an Execution of one who was broken on the Wheel; from which place, he carried two Purses more to his fellows, where he found his young Cutpurse much discontented, that he had so treacherously dealt with him: Thus passed this young Boy Master in his Trade, after he had been well beaten, though not so well as he justly deserved.   

CHAP. X.  
The Life and Death of little james.  
IT is hard for one in these days, to find out a young man endued with a stayed wisdom; for they suffer themselves to be so violently hurried by the heat of their own passions, that virtue is most commonly overmastered by vice, and reason, by a self-will inclination: the chief cause of this is, that vice escapes too oft unpunished, and that Parents do commonly slacken the reins of their authority, permitting their children to do whatsoever they vainly desire: so that this age being too apt and subject to ruin of itself; if it be moreover encouraged to evil, by the overfond permission of Parents, it is no wonder, if at length vice predominate.  
O wonderful and perverse Age! How many Monsters dost thou produce? How many children are in these times borne Viperlike, to gnaw out the bowels of their Parents, causing them to custom themselves in sorrows and mournful lamentations?  
When we have once lost that dutiful respect wherein we are obliged towards our Parents, how quickly do we lose that which we strictly owe unto God? As may appear exemplified in the ensuing History, of one james, who being about the age of fifteen Years, forsook his Parents (who were too careless of his education,) with a full resolution, to betake himself to a debauched kind of life: and finding a fit opportunity, stole from his Father a great some of money▪ and so fled. Not long after he enroled himself as a Soldier, under the command of a Lord, who at that time conducted a great Regiment: (this was in those first troubles, wherein France, for a time, lost the sweet repose of peace, by the dissension of some great Pears in the State, who were retired from the King's service to Cantonize it in diverse Provinces of the Kingdom.) While he was in the Army, he committed a thousand insolences: and though but little in age and stature, yet he grew to that height of wickedness, that he was therein inferior to none. He seldom stayed long in a place, and where he remained least, he sometimes left the greatest marks of his cruelty: those who suffered most by him, were poor Country people: some whereof, he would cause to be stretched out before a fire, and so by scorching and burning the soles of their feet, would force them to confess where their money lay: he would slash and cut the flesh of others, who would not suddenly bring unto him his appointed ransom; and would also sometimes ravish those Maids he by chance met: he grew so courageous that no man durst do him an affront: for in four years wherein he lived in the Arrmy, he had slain five in single combat; who not being patient enough to endure his bravadoes) had challenged him; of which murders he soon obtained remission, (being much favoured of some Great ones) and so escaped unpunished.  
The Army being at length cashiered, he was constrained (being never bred to labour) either to steal, or beg: he therefore betook himself to the Forest of Senlis, where he rob diverse Passengers; thence he went as far as Clerimont, with five or six of his Companions, who being armed with Pistols, there rob the Wagon of Amiens: thence he betook himself to Paris, where he committed so many thefts, that he was at length, by the Society of Cutpurses, chosen Ringleader of their Company: he carried himself so subtly in his affairs, that his most trusty companions could never know where his lodging was; only when they met together, he would appoint them a rendivous whereto meet the next day; and would often punish, and sometimes stab, those who the day before had executed no enterprise of note. He would sometimes be clothed in the habit of a Physician, in which he would often go to the houses of sick persons, and having noated the entries, they should not fail the next day to find themselves robbed: he would hide himself sometimes a whole day together, in a House, and at night would open the doors to his Companions; at other times he would cause himself to be followed by four or five Tagrags, and would hastily come to the house of some Counsellor, when he thought most of the household servants were elsewhere employed, and having earnestly demanded to speak with him, the Counsellor should no sooner approach, but little james (for so they called him) would have a Pistol at his breast, and then force him to furnish him with what money he desired.  
He, with two or three of his Companions, being one day in the fair St. german, perceived a certain Attorney cheapening a silver Basin of a Goldsmith, who not agreeing on the price, put the money (which he had offered down for payment) into his pocket; whereupon, little james showing this Attorney to one of his Comrades commanded him to dive into the bottom of his pocket for that Gudgeon, and that otherwise they two should not be good friends; which the other refused to do, as impossible without eminent danger; he thereupon called unto him another, from whom he received the like denial: He seeing that neither of them would obey his commands, conceived a mortal hatred against them; and intending shortly to be revenged, he said unto them, You will not undertake this enterprise, to ease me of imaginary difficulties, but assure yourselves (if I lose it) you shall sound pay for it: he having thus spoken left them, and came unto the Attorney, who was then bargaining with another Goldsmith, because he could not agree on the price with the first: and finding an opportunity, by reason of the throng then about him, thrust him with such violence, that his Hat fell to the ground, which while the Attorney took up, he gently put his hand into his Pocket and took his Purse, so that the Attorney having afterward agreed with the Goldsmith for the Basin, found no money to pay him, which was like to have caused dissension, in regard that the Goldsmith would have forced the Basin on him. Little james having thus acted his part, returned unto his Companions, and showed them the Purse, whereat they rejoiced, but this their joy was short: for Little james hating them deadly for their disobedience, led them to a by-place, called Mount Parnassus, where he commanded the one to stay for him; and having drawn the other about a Flightshot from thence, told him in great fury, that he could hardly forbear to kill him, whereupon his Comrade desired to know the cause of his anger, and the reason why he spoke such words; but Little james perceiving that he saucily reasoned with him, suddenly drew forth his Sword and ran him thorough: thence he came back to the other, whom he had commanded to stay for him on the Mount; but lest his companion should suspect any harm or ill intent from him, he drew near unto him with a smiling countenance; when the other ask him where his Comrade was, he snatched forth a Poniard, and stabbing him therewith, he said, behold, there he is, go thou to him.  
He once killed a begging Friar; and having taken on him his habit and Letters of Order, came unto the Friars at S. Vincents', where he was by them for the space of fifteen days kindly entertained: and being resolved to furnish himself before his departure, he brought with him from Paris diverse sorts of Pick-lock instruments, with which he (while the rest of the Convent, were about midnight (as their custom is) at Matins,) excusing himself for his absence (as being constrained thereto) by in-disposition of body, picked open a door where their money lay, which he having taken away, cunningly shut the door and went to bed: the next day he arose early, and taking his leave of the Superior, returned to Paris; where by his begging from door to door, he greatly distressed those that were of that Order: for when any of them went forth to beg provision, they were answered, that they were served already, and that they had given it to one of their fellows, whereat the Friars were mightily amazed, and could not conceive by any means who it was that so grossly abused them: by this means did Little james commit sundry great thefts within the Citizen's houses, he having free entrance, by reason of his habit: but it came to pass at length, that the Friars of Saint Vincents' having found out his arch knavery, desired some Officers within the City to search for him; but their labour was in vain; until it happened that one of those Friars (not long after,) entering into a certain house for an alms, met this james coming forth of the same House; whereupon he entreated the Servants to lay hands on him, which they did; and having lustily beaten him, were about to have led him to a Justice: but by the coming of some of his Associates, who guarded him, he was rescued; Little james taking an especial notice of them, came the the next morning, (having changed his habit,) near unto the place where those Servants dwelled, and craftily inquires their names, and the names of their Parents; which having fully understood, he appointed 2. or 3. of his companions to meet him at a house not far from thence, at which time he wrote this Letter unto one of the Lackeys which had beaten him, whose name was Francis More, the Contents of the Letter was as followeth;  
Son,  
I Am come purposely into this City, to acquaint you with some affairs which have lately happened in our parts: you have lived long here with little profit, I have found a Match fit for you in our Country, which you must not neglect; It is not always time to sow, we must sometimes reap: I would willingly have come unto your lodging, but that perhaps (in so doing) your Master would have suspected that I came purposely to entice you away; wherefore I should be glad to see you at my lodging, whither this bearer will conduct you; I will in the mean time cause a Breakfast to be provided for you against you come; and if you bring a friend with you, he shall be welcome, and his entertainment shall be the best we can provide.  
Farewell.  
Having sealed this Letter, he directs one of his young Cutpurses unto the house where this More dwelled; who having received it, failed not to come with his Companion; where being arrived, he was informed that his father was gone into the City, and had left command for them to go to Breakfast, and not to stay for him: They therefore, being earnestly entreated to sit down, did; but they had not sat long, before little james entered and saluted them, but they at first knew him not, until he withdrawing himself into an innerroome, presently came forth in his Friar's habit; then were the Lackeys in extreme perplexity, and would have forsaken the Table; but Little james and his company suddenly seized on them, and stripping them naked, he first lashed them with Stirrop-leathers; then with a more than barbarous cruelty, caused their skins to be gashed, and after, (they being all bloody) he put them into a great Tub of feathers, where they had little ease; nothing could their cries avail them, by reason that the House stood in a by-place, far from any common resort; and after having done them many other injuries, he at midnight sent them away feathered like so many Fowl; and immediately he and his company forsook the house.  
Having discoursed of the manner of his Life, let us come now unto his Death; and see, whether it be as tragic, as the actions of his life did prognosticate. The fame of this notorious Thief augmented daily in Paris, and twenty Leagues round there about; so that the Provost thought it a part of his duty to make diligent search after him, he gives strict order therefore to his Troops diligently to give attendance, with whom he made a Road towards the Forest of Fountainebleau, it being the common place where he lurked: but the subtlety of little james deceived him; for he having intelligence of it, disguising himself like a country Ploughman, passed through the midst of them, and came to Paris, without being known: but in vain escapes he who draws his punishment after him. For he being one day in a Tennis Court, was earnestly noated by some of the Provosts men, who were going to play, which exceedingly daunted him: yet without seeming to fear or suspect any thing, he passed by them; but the Officers presently following him, saw him enter into a house where a young Wench dwelled, whom he had debauched, and and at that time maintained: whereupon, they besetting the house, and one of them knocking at the door, he himself came to the Window, and demanded their business, (although he too well knew their intent:) the Officers, without using many words, began to break open the door; when little james on the other side, arming himself with a fierce resolution, foreseeing that he could not escape death, resolved to sell his life at a dear rate, and to that end he barricadoed himself within the house, turning the Table and Stools topsy turvy against the door.  
The news being spread that little james was within the house, made divers people flock together to see the issue; among others, many of the Guard hastened thither, and endeavoured by Ladders to enter through the Window; but Little james having charged two Pistols and two Muskets with them, watching his opportunity, when their thoughts were at the highest, humbled eleven of them to the ground: his Wench at the same time charging as fast as he discharged: and by that last office, testified the greatness of her courage and affection. As for him he was so animated with rage and despair, that he often thrust out his head at the Window, endeavouring to hasten his assured death, by the honourable blow of some Musket, to eescape the dis-honour of the Gallows.  
The people assembled more and more, and about an hundred persons had now encompassed the House, armed with Muskets, Pikes, and Halberds: little james, after he had discharged diverse shot, at last fell into a scarcity of Bullets, which being perceived, some mounted upon the Ladders, whilst others broke open the doors: every one admired the desperate stoutness of this Thief, in resisting so many people: but he resisted in vain, for his hour was then come; yet would he not for a long time yield himself, but would have killed himself, had not his Wench hindered him: at length, the multitude entering he was forced to yield to the fury of the people, who dragged him to prison, where he lay not long before he was condemned to be broken on the Wheel.  
The day of his death being spread abroad, caused a multitude of people to be assembled in the place of execution; every one wondering to see one so young to have perpetrated half so many villainies. Some pitied his youth; others rejoiced to see him cut off so timely: as for me, I must confess I was not a jot moved with pity, but was glad to see him punished according to his deserts. Behold here, the Life and death of this notorious Rogue; whereby it may be considered, how much it behoves Parents to chastise their children in their youth, and not to suffer them to live in too great a liberty.   

CHAP. XI.  
The Story of Pallioly and his Choke-pear.  
WE may compare youth to a young twig, whose tenderness yields to the least motion, and is easily bended either to the right or left hand; being made fruitful or barren, according to the industry or negligence of the Owner. So is it with youth, if he once finds the path of virtue by the care of his Parents, he may be made continue and increase in the same: but contrary acts produce contrary effects: and we cannot expect a greater comfort and joy from those that are virtuous, than sorrow and grief from those that continue in a vicious course of life. I would therefore advise all Parents and Guardians, to be exceeding careful and wary in the education of their Children; especially to beware of the poison of ill example; not suffering them to frequent the company of such as are debauched: for we naturally follow, with eagernes, those actions which we see authorized by former precedents.  
Pallioly was a pretty well favoured youth, a fit lodging to entertain virtue, as no doubt he would have done, had not the over fond affection of his Father, permitted him to make choice of those courses which are most opposite to virtue, and best pleasing our sensual appetites and inclination. His ingenuity was such that had he been trained up virtuously, his wisdom might have made him as famous as his wit, wrongly employed, hath now made him infamous: he was borne near unto Tholouse, where he remained not long, but out of a vain curiosity, and curious vanity, he first (forsaking his earthly father, that he might the better forget his heavenly,) betook himself towards Paris, where he abode not long, before his riot and excess had wholly emptied his Purse of coin; and his wits being quickened by necessity, he studied to supply his want by this following device. He first makes a pair of hands of Wax, and fastens them to his shoulders so artificially, that he could when he pleased put them through his Cloak: with these he goes to the Church of S. Mederic, where he understood that a great concourse of people would that day be, by reason of a learned Man that then intended to preach: being come into the Church, he espies a Gentlewoman with a silver Watch by her side, who was praying in the body of the Church among many others, who every minute expected the Preachers coming out of the Chancel: by her he kneels, placing a Book on these his artificial hands, and seems to fix his eyes on both: The Gentlewoman wonders at his rudeness, in coming so near her, and conceives it to be only want of breeding in him: she casts her eyes on him, and sees him with a Book in his hand and praying: modesty permitted her to look, but not too earnestly to gaze on him; she therefore without mistrust holds on her devotion, and he his; she she to God, and he his to the Devil, as appeared by the sequel; for while she at the elevation of the Host bows down to the ground, and in humility kisseth it, he nips off the Watch; and having likewise hypocritically kissed the ground, departed.  
Not long after, he goes to a Smith of his acquaintance, a very skilful man in his Trade, and one wholly at his beck, and gives him instruction how to make a kind of Instrument, in the likeness of a little Bowl; which by the help of small springs within it, might open and enlarge itself; so that being clapped into a man's mouth it could not be removed without the Key purposely made to that end: this being finished according to his mind, and brought unto him, he termed a Choke-pear; he might have termed it a Devil's Pear, for never was there a worse tasted fruit. Eridas a rich Citizen, dwelling about the Royal Exchange, was the first who made trial how hard this Pear was of digestion; for Pallioly knowing, by common report, that he was rich, chose out his opportunity when all his household servants were busied in country affairs, and none at home with him but one Lackey; and then being accompanied with three or four such spend-thrifs, as himself, he came to the house, and boldly desired to speak with Eridas; the Lackey supposing them to have been Gentlemen of worth, by reason of their decent apparel, went unto his Master, and told him that there were some Gentlemen below that desired to speak with him: but Eridas coming unto them, and desiring to know their pleasure, was taken aside by Pallioly, who in no less brief than rough terms, told him, that they were poor Soldiers pinched by poverty, whose wants must be relieved by his excess, that it was needless for him to endeavour resistance, for nothing should satisfy him but money, and of that, no small quantity: Eridas (who loved his money as his life, and nothing so well as his life but money, being loath to lose either, and fearing the loss of both,) began to cry for help; but at the instant one of them gripping him by the throat, made him so gape for breath, that it was no hard matter for the other to give him the Pear; which being entered, his mouth opened so wide, that he was forced by reason of sharp points of iron which were on each side of the Pear, to gape as wide (in expectation of ease) as possibly he could. Thus remained poor Eridas like a Statue, not being able to speak a word, or express his grief, but by signs, whiles they having taken the Keys out of his pocket, furnished themselves with money, and so departed. Eridas being rid of his guests, would willingly be rid of his torment to: he to that end goes unto his neighbours with a wide mouth, & endeavours to express by his signs, what he was not able to utter in words: they are ready to laugh at his action, before they know the cause of his sorrow▪ but finding by his signs and other circumstances, in what intolerable torment he then was, they seek to excuse their former ignorance of his pain, by diligent endeavouring his ease: but when neither their Will, or Art, could invent a means to ease him, there comes a Porter with a Letter (and therein a small Key enclosed) written to this effect:  
Sir,  
THat you may perceive how tender I am of your welfare and how far from desiring your death, I have here enclosed, sent you a key, wherewith you may open the instrument in your mouth; I know it hath put you to some torment, yet I pray you judge charitably of the cause, and conceive that I remain  
your well-wishing servant.  
Not long after, he took abroad with him a youth (that was not as then become free, nor throughly experienced in his profession) and walked with him to the Market-house, where he perceived a plain Country-fellow sitting in a corner of the street, compassed about with diverse pots, whereof some were full of rare Fruits, and others emptied by sale: Pallioly taking notice of it, and espying the fellows purse, indifferently well stuffed, hanging about his neck and put into his bosom, he commands the Boy to fetch him that purse if he would be admitted as free of his Society: the Boy thinks the purse is in too safe keeping for him to compass it, he therefore flatly refuseth to fetch it, as a thing impossible to be done, without being perceived; whereupon Pallioly bids him learn of him, and without farther delay goes to the fellow, and tells him some thorn had fallen in between his shirt and his back, and desired his help to pull it out, for that it much troubled him, and so bowed himself downwards; the country man in the mean time puts his hand in at his choler, and while he seeks to find the straw that so troubled him, Pallioly cuts his Purse, and takes his leave with thanks.  
The Boy being encouraged by his good success, shortly after endeavoured the like exploit; but being caught in the action, was so sound beaten, that he was scarce able to return home: at length, Pallioly having committed diverse the like thefts, was constrained, for safety of his life, to fly his country; and after a long exile, was killed with a Musket-shot, being too good a punishment for his many mischiefs.   

CHAP. XII.  
The wicked Servant.  
IN the City of Paris there dwelled a Citizen named Melander, a man both honest and rich; two qualities seldom meeting in one and the same person: amongst other good qualities wherein he excelled, he was a great Architect, and much sought after for his skill therein: This man had a servant which was married named Alexis, a rude and surely fellow, whom his master Melander, for the space of six years, retained in his service, in regard of his skill in the same Art: The great love and favour which his master bare towards him, puffed him with the wind of pride and Ambition, which did so powerfully reign in him, that despising the due respect wherein he was obliged towards his master, he contrived his ruin in this manner.  
Melander had a house near Paris, wherein he sometimes recreated himself for the space of six weeks together; Alexis who was married and had many children, moved with a covetous desire, resolved to rob his Master of what was most precious in it: but as often as this thought presented itself, so often did he reject it, because he knew not how, safely to contrive the execution of so bold and bloody an enterprise, until that having, by the Devil's enticement, associated himself with some of the most notorious Rogues in Paris, he entreated them to meet at a place by him appointed, where he would open unto them a matter that might conduce both to their own profit and his: These Rogues hearing him thus speak, promised not to fail meeting him at the time and place appointed; where meeting to the number of 5, (one whereof was a Tapster, another a Mason, and the other three nearly allied) They being set at dinner, and having drunk till their brains were well heated, Alexis thus began to discover unto them his intended plot, saying; Sirs, I have a Master both rich and wealthy, and methinks, seeing that we are poor, we may find a means by him to raise our fortunes, by secretly murdering him and seizing on his goods and money: these words being heard by his Companions, some approved his council, others disliked it; but at last it was concluded between them, that Alexis should be chief conductor in the enterprise, as being best acquainted in the house, and that the other five should obey what he commanded: whereupon one of the five, upon the set day, brought a Boat down the River to carry away the booty (for the House of Melander was seated near the River) and fastened it to the bankside; he came by night with his companions led by Alexis to the said house of Melander, who was at that time there, it being the time of Vintage.  
When they were all come to the door, Alexis knocked and the servant (in regard it was late) demanded who was there, but hearing Alexis' answer, and knowing his voice, she misdoubting no cause of fear, presently opened it; yet was she much perplexed when she saw five others enter with him at so unseasonable a time. No sooner were they entered but they killed this servant, not giving her so much time as to crave help either of God or man.  
They having thus begun, Alexis in a furious haste leadeth them up into a Chamber, where Melander meets them, and demands of Alexis what fury had so far transported him as to make such a ransacking of his house; To which Alexis (having his eyes and ears shut from the respect which he owed unto his Master) answered, that he was resolved to kill him, and that therefore he should recommend himself to God: Melander in this extremity knew not what to do, but being resolved, in his old age, to sell his life to them at a dear rate, he suddenly endeavoured to seize upon an Halberd which was at his bed's head; but Alexis with his Companions, to prevent it, rushed upon him, and gave him 20. or 30. blows with Clubs, wherewith they dashed out his brains: behold these barbarous cruelties committed by a servant; yet that which followeth seems inhuman.  
Melander brought with him into the same house one of his daughters, exceeding fair, to look unto his houshold-affaires: this maid was marriageable, and might have been well matched, had not the cruelty of these Rogues cut the thread of her life: She lay in the next Chamber to that of Melander, when hearing the outcry of her Father, she hid herself between the bed and the wall, thinking so to avoid her ensuing death: Alexis notwithstanding (who was well acquainted with every corner of the House,) having slain Melander, came into the maid's chamber, and having espied her, commanded his Companions to draw her forth, who held her whilst he like a bruit beast, ravished her; and not content with this, he caused his Companions to do the like. To express this action fully, and the lamentable means she made, seeing herself brought into this so miserable estate, requires the Pen of one more eloquent. These her lamentations might have broken an heart of Adamant, but it was so far from mollifying of theirs, that they proceeded yet further; for without compassion of her tender age, beauty, or Sex, they there bereft her of her life.  
Then Alexis being thus master of the House, caused the doors to be barricadoed, and so fell to ransacking and rifling the whole house, preparing themselves to be gone the next night: they spent the next day in jollity and mirth; but night being come, they having loaded the Boat with the best householdstuff, and themselves with money, in all, to the value of two thousand pounds, they about midnight departed, not being perceived of any; which made Alexis confident of his safety: but God, who seeth both things past, things present, and things to come, would not permit so impious an act to scape undiscovered; it being in vain for humane wisdom to think to avoid the irrevocable Decree of the Almighty.  
Two days passed wherein was no news of Melander, the Vine-dressers wondered to find no body at his house, which made one of them go to Paris to see whether he were not there; where meeting with Alexis (who now lay rioting and swaggering in Taverns) he asked him for his Master, at which demand he seemed to wonder, saying, That he supposed to have found him at his Countryhouse, and as if he had been much troubled at the news; he suddenly forsook his company and hastened towards the house of Melander, where he with four or five others (having for a long time knocked at the door, and no body answering) broke into the house, where, upon their first entrance, they found the maid (stretched forth) dead upon the floor, whereat they were amazed, but Alexis chiefly seemed to take on, crying out that there had been thiefs in the house: thence they ascended up into the chamber, where they found Melander likewise murdered: Then did Alexis fall down and kiss the corpse of his dead master; saying, Alas, alas, What do mine eyes behold! Is it you my dear master that are so miserably murdered, whilst I by my too long absence could not yield thee succour? Ah miserable and unfortunate Alexis, How great is this day's loss? Thou hast lost all thy support and fortune, on which thou hast grounded the anchor of thy hopes; thou hast lost that which thou hast most affected; and to be short, thou hast lost thy most kind and dearly beloved master. O God, thou revenger of murder, punish this crime, and suffer not the authors to lie concealed. He spoke this with so cunning a dissimulation, that those who were present, seeing his Crocodiles-teares, believed that those bewailing lamentations proceeded from his sincere love, and extreme affection. Then searching the rest of the chambers, they found the poor daughter of Melander likewise massacred, whereat he again poured forth a torrent of tears, persuading the standers by that his griefs were much increased by this woeful spectacle.  
The bruit and rumour of this massacre was quickly spread abroad, which caused a great concourse of people to come see so bloody and seldom heard of tragedy: Alexis in the mean time remains in the house as master of the same; receives all those that come to see it, and by his unusual sadness, endeavours to cloak his treachery, and to make it an argument of his fidelity; but some wiser than others, prying further into this business, began not only to doubt of his fidelity, but secretly seemed to accuse him to be author of the murder; some said that those tears were but feigned, and that so many sobs and sighs in a mere servant, no way allied unto him, could not proceed but from a deep dissimulation: others excused him, and said, that Alexis having for a long time been in the service of Melander, with hope by him to better his fortune, had just cause exceedingly to grieve at this loss so disadvantageous to his good; but among all, some pleaded so strongly against him, that he was by their advice seized upon and imprisoned; at which he being much astonished, called the heavens to be witnesses, and revengers of their tyranny; vowing that he had never the least thought of so barbarous a cruelty; but they notwithstanding having imprisoned him, prepared his indictment, and made diligent enquiry where and how he had spent the last two days; but the murderers had so secretly managed their affairs, that no man could depose any thing against them, God only and their own consciences accusing them, so that the prisoner was for that time set at liberty.  
He was no sooner dismissed, but he began to blaze abroad his innocence, and accuse them who had imprisoned him of injustice: six months were already past wherein this crime was as it were smothered in silence, and buried in oblivion, and the murderers were confident that it would be no more questioned; but they were much deceived in their opinion, for not long after, four of the said murderers (which were the Father, son, son in law, and a Mason, as we have said) met in a certain village near Paris, and being willing to renew their ancient leagues, they went to the next Tavern, where they began to carouse and be merry; but as they were in the midst of their mirth, there came ten or twelve of the Marshals men, who being wearied (with some pursuit which they had made) came by chance to refresh themselves to the same place; and being entered, they put off their coats, meaning to sit down at the end of the same table; then the marks of their office appearing, put these cruel confederates in such a fear, as if a thunderbolt had fallen among them; and all their bold mirth is now turned into whispering, and their joy into sorrow, they are hungry but cannot eat, and a cold trembling so possesseth them throughout, that they seem rather dead then alive, imagining these men pursued no other but themselves.  
These officers called for wine, and intended only their own recreation, meaning nothing against them; but they much wondered that upon the sudden those that sat near them had taken their flight, and left their wine and meat on the table, departing without paying the shot. All which the officers well noting, demanded of the Host, what was the cause of their sudden flight; to which the Host said, that he could not choose but much wonder thereat, and told them what kind of people they were, and how well furnished with money, being formerly very poor and needy people.  
Then the officers consulted together, and concluded that there was something more than ordinary in the matter, and that these men (their consciences accusing them of some offence by them committed) and fearing them as officers, had taken their flight, and that it was requisite they should be pursued; which being resolved on, they presently put in execution: and parting themselves, some one way, and some another, by their diligence and speed overtook them, they then stayed them in the King's Name, and persuading them to confess the cause of their flight, they told them that if they would not by fair means, they would constrain them by force, and thereupon took the eldest of them and gave him the Strappado, which made the old fellow quickly confess that they had all four deserved death, namely, by the murdering of Melander: at the which his companions grew enraged, he with the rest having before resolved to endure all the tortures that could be inflicted upon them, rather than they would confess: moreover, the said old man confessed that he had been the cause of the deaths of threescore persons, whom he at several times taking into his barge, under pretence of passing them over the River, had tied stones about their necks, and having so drowned them, at night took them up, and so stripped them: he moreover related unto them, that he had one day most wickedly killed a boy about the age of seventeen years, who had no more than twelve pence about him, and that of all the thefts and murders he had committed, he had never grieved but for that, as being the cause of the death of one of the most comely and hopeful young men that ever he saw.  
Alexis having notice of their taking, (for it is to be noted, that of four which were pursued, one escaped, and advised Alexis and his companion, who was a Mason, to take their flight) Alexis fled into England, and the Mason into Touraine, where we will anon overtake them. The officers having thus done their devoir, led the offenders unto Paris, where they were condemned first to have their hands cut off, and their bodies to be broken on the wheel before the house of Melander, which was performed in the sight of a multitude of people.  
One of those (which were thus broken) confessed, that he was accustomed in the woods near Paris, to strangle the passengers with a cord, which he for that purpose carried about him; and that when any demanded of him whither he went, he would answer, he went to buy a calf, showing unto them the cord.  
We will now return to our Renegadoes; he which was at Tours, having escaped the danger which threatened him, had changed his name, and lived by his trade, being welcome among others of the same profession in those parts, by reason of his great skill therein: he being at length become amorous of a young maid in the country, by the consent of her parents married her: Behold him at the height of his desires; but yet so troubled in his conscience, that he could not rest, for the blood of those innocent souls, which he had shed, ceased not to cry for vengeance: but the mischiefs which troubled him, happened chiefly, in that he (either in malice or jollity) so charmed the Cod-peece-point of one of his neighbours, that he could not make use of his own wife, which being done, he came about three or four days after unto the married man, and told him that he partly knew that his point had been knit with a charming knot, and that if he would give him a reasonable reward, he would untie it: The man who desired nothing more than to be freed of this infirmity, yet without thinking that the Mason had charmed it, promised to give him twenty shillings in present, and twenty shillings more when he was eased thereof; of he received the twenty shillings, and his neighbour being cured, he demanded of him the other twenty shillings according to promise; who then called him Sorcerer, and told him that he was a Witch, and had bewitched him, and deserved to be burnt; the Mason not being able to bear such language, called him in question for scandalising his reputation.  
The Judges having seriously considered the matter, by a common consent agreed that he was the sole cause whence proceeded this evil; which being after a sort proved (for that about ten days after the marriage, the said Mason had publicly bragged unto some that he had done it, which was proved against him) he was condemned to be whipped through the Marketplace and then banished; which to avoid, he presently appeals to the Parliament of Paris, whither he was sent, and where he found his death: The time being come wherein he must be recompensed according to his merit; for being come to Paris, he is heard of by some of the inhabitants of the said Village, who presently gave notice and advertised the heirs of Melander, who so eagerly pursued him, that by the deposition of the former witnesses, he was forced to confess the deed, and so was judged to the same punishment as his companions, which last Execution was done, in the year 1616. five years after the murder of Melander.  
There remains now only Alexis who passing by Calis, it happened (as thiefs cannot forbear misdoing) that he entered the house of a rich Merchant, and stole from him a great sum of money, while he was at Mass: he is thereupon taken, and condemned to be hanged. Thus were they (by the Divine justice) deservedly put to death, who so cruelly had murdered Melander.   

CHAP. XIII.  
The dangerous adventures, and miraculous escapes of Colyrias.  
COlyrias was descended of a good family in Guien, and of a father whose virtue might have been a pattern unto him in his actions, had he not been withdrawn by the over-commanding power of the destinies. This young man (his father being dead) was committed to the tuition of his Uncle; who slacking the severity which at first he showed, soon after permitted him to follow his licentious desires, as do most Tutors and Guardians of children in these days; they are forward to receive the benefit of their place, but backward to perform the duty. This is the bane of youth, when Parents are too indulgent to their children, and Tutors or Guardians to their charge, suffering them freely to exercise whatsoever is dictated unto them by the pravity of their own dispositions.  
Colyrias was of such a gadding humour, that he resolved (without his Uncle's consent) to make a Voyage towards Bourdeaux; and for that purpose pilfered from his Uncle a round sum of money, and therewith privily departed: He had not sojourned there long, but he was taken with a desire of seeing Paris, but before he arrived there, he took up his lodging in a Town, seated upon the Loire, at an Inn, the Host whereof proved a mere Cutthroat: here Colyrias with two others, by him accidentally met, having supped together, were conducted all to one Chamber where were three Beds; every one makes choice of his own, and having locked the Chamber door, they all betook them to their rest: But the Host having a secret door which entered into the same chamber, about midnight, when he thought that a deep sleep had seized upon their senses, softly entered, and coming into their chamber approached their beds; Colyrias being by chance awake, saw them passing along the midst of the chamber, and at length staying at the next bed, which made him jealous that they had some attempt against their lives: he therefore began by snorting, to make show that he was in a deep sleep, although he were indeed much perplexed with the apprehension of an ensuing mischief.  
The Host having visited the bed of his companions, came and handled his flesh also; and having so done, he heard them say, that his flesh was but tough, and that the other two would prove dainty meat, they then went to the others beds, and (like bloody miscreants) miserable killed the companions of Colyrias; whereat he was so amazed, that he knew not what course to take, for he expected the same entertainment, as had his poor companions; yet beyond his thought was the Host more merciful to him, then unto the others, for having disposed of the bodies of his companions, he came unto him, and having taken away from him his moneys, which amounted to twenty pounds and upwards, causing him to arise, he conducted him thorough a gallery, wherein he had made a trap, in the form of a drawbridge, which by the means of a bar of iron fastened under, it would rise and fall with the least weight that came upon it; Colyrias being come upon it, immediately fell down into an unfrequented street, where while he with tears lamented his hard misfortunes, two thiefs perceiving him, demanded of him the cause of his complaints, whereupon he declared unto them all his former accidents, whereunto they answered, that ill fortune indeed had given him just cause of sorrow; but that patience ought to serve him as a buckler against so many miseries; and that they so much pitied him, that if he would he should participate of their better fortunes: upon this promise he followed them, little thinking that he had fallen out of the frying pan into the fire; but being come into the next street, they there for a time stayed, expecting an opportunity to take some booty, they then going up another street, came unto a well, where one of them, desirous to quench his thirst, found that the buckets were wanting, which made him entreat Colyrias to descend into the well for water; but he fearing that they would play some scurvy trick with him, at first refused; yet at length, constrained by their earnest entreaties, he adventured it: he was no sooner down, but the watch appeared in sight of his companions, whereupon they forsaking the rope by which Colyrias held, fled; so that had it not been that Colyrias had taken footing upon a stone, which jutted forth of the side of the well, he had there perished: as soon as the watch came unto the well, one of the company being desirous likewise to quench his thirst (it being in the heat of Summer) thinking that the bucket had been in the bottom of the water, began to draw at the rope; Colyrias (thinking that his companions had drawn) according to their promise, seizing upon the rope, was by little and little lifted up; but he finding the weight heavier than was usual, called unto his companions for help; saying, That surely there was something more than water in the bucket; at length, by their united forces, they drew up Colyrias; when they saw him appear at the top of the Well, they being terrified, ran away as if the Devil had been at their heels, so suddenly losing their hold of the rope, that if he had not cast his hand quickly upon the mouth of the Well, he could not have escaped the danger of tumbling in again.  
It happened that about four or five days before the arrival of Colyrias, that the Bishop of the Diocese being dead, was buried with a Ring and rich Crosier staff in the presence of these his companions, which made them earnestly desire by some plot or other to steal them: and to that end desired the assistance of Colyrias, whereunto, though unwilling, he was constrained to give his consent: they than came unto the Church door, which being opened by Picklocks, they entered, showing him the Tomb, and threatening him with death if he refused to go in, or failed to bring unto them the Ring and Crosier: whereupon, they having with iron-crows, and other instruments, lifted up the stone of the vault, he entered; and putting his hands upon the Coffin, pulled up the plank that covered him, and taking the Crosier and Ring away, he came unto his companions, and told them, that as for the Crosier, he had brought it; but as for the Ring, it was not to be found in the Coffin; thinking by this means to keep the Ring for himself: but they, who had been at the Bishop's Funeral, and knew assuredly that the Ring was enclosed in the Coffin, so threatened Colyrias, that he was constrained to go into the Vault the second time; where, making as if he searched farther, and having told them, that certainly it was not there, they forthwith let fall the stone, and buried him in the sepulchre with the Corpse of the dead Bishop; Colyrias had already escaped two imminent dangers, but now thought assuredly, he should never escape the third, but that he should perish in the vault.  
Whilst he was in this great perplexity, there came two Priests, who being possessed with the sacrilegious desire of robbing the Bishop's sepulchre, lifted up the stone, and one of them being about to enter, Colyrias caught hold of his legs, who imagining that the dead Bishop was revived, and had caught him by the legs, being filled with fear and amazement, he strove to withdraw his legs, and so drew our Colyrias, who imagining his conceit, ran after him to the place where he entered, and got forth, and having escaped out of the Church, he hasted out of the town with the Ring, that was worth two hundred crowns, so that he returned home with some recompense for the many dangers and miseries that he had already suffered.   

CHAP. XIV.  
One often cheated.  
IN the year 1615. there was in the town of Amiens, a young man whose name was DORILIS, who forsook his Parents by reason of some private quarrels which he had with his Brethren, but before his departure, he stole out of his father's Cabinet, the sum of twenty pounds and upwards; and having so done, went towards Paris, but as he traveled, he overtook a Merchant that went to the fair of St german, with whom he kept company until they came unto their journey's end; but they there leaving one the other, took up their several lodgings. This Dorilis being of a sottish and stupid nature, and little acquainted with the crafts and subtleties of the world, being newly arrived at the City, went from street to street to view the excellency of the buildings and other rarities: his gazing about made him soon taken notice of by some Cheaters, who as soon as they saw him, judged it an easy matter to entrap him; one of them to that end comes towards him with a great Packet, with this superscription;  
Let this be delivered with trust to the Lady Robecour, dwelling at Aberis, etc.  
And having delivered unto him this Packet, he earnestly entreated him to tell him to whom it was directed, signifying that is was his chance to find it, and that there was somewhat enclosed in the same.  
Dorilis, who could not dive into the depth of this mystery, read the superscription, and at the request of him, who delivered him the Packet, openeth it; and therein finds a small chain of gold, with these words;  
Madam,  
HAving by your Letters, understood of the happy success of your marriage, and that you have so soon perfected so good a work; it would have seemed that I had not participated of your joy, if I should not have testified it with this chain, it is but of small value in respect of your merits, it cost only fifty crowns, this is a small gift in comparison of that which my affection would have offered. Nevertheless oblige me with your acceptation, and I shall truly rest Your Kinsman  
A. de Robecour.  
Dorilis having read this Letter, wished to have been so fortunate, as to have found it; whereunto the other answered, that if he had a liking unto the chain, he should have it upon reasonable terms, what it cost appeareth by the Letter, and therefore in regard it was not fit for his wearing, he would part with it for the one half that it cost: at length Dorilis after some arguing gave him ten crowns for it.  
This first encounter was but a forewarning of his future mishap; He nevertheless, not suspecting any deceit, blessed the hour wherein he lighted upon this good fortune: not long after, as he was passing thorough the Fair, he espied some gamesters playing at Dice, whereupon he drew towards them, and desired to be half with one of them that played, whereby he quickly gained a Noble; this provoked Dorilis to play for himself, thinking thereby to better his fortune: but these two Cheaters (who had at the beginning feigned themselves to be strangers one to the other) having perceived that he settled himself to play, handled their false Dice so cunningly, that they suddenly gained from him three pounds, and had without doubt got more, if the earnest desire of seeing the Fair had not withdrawn him. Thence Dorilis proceeded farther into the Fair, when he (according to his rude custom) gazing about him, espied a Lottery; whereunto he drew near, and beheld the Adventurers; where being noted by some Cheaters, who had complotted with the Master to be permitted to gain when they would, he was by one of them entreated to participate with him in this Adventure, which after Dorilis (fearing again to be cheated) refused, upon this answer, the Cheater having drawn, openeth the Billet, and findeth therein a silver Bason; which he having received of the Master of the Lottery, showed to Dorilis, reproaching him for refusing to be halves with him in the Lot, and so to have gained the one half of the Ewer, whereupon▪ Dorilis induced by this man's imaginary gain, begins to draw Lots, and ceased not until he had emptied his purse of twenty crowns, and yet received not the worth of twenty pence, notwithstanding all this, he was not any whit dejected, being confident that his Gold chain would make him a saver.  
After he had been in diverse parts of Paris, and had seen all that which was most worthy of note in the city, he returned unto his Inn, where he no sooner entered, but he perceived that he had lost his purse: then did the long way which he had to go, the hazards of sickness which he might fall into, and a thousand other misfortunes came into his mind, yet did the finding of his chain in the other pocket, in part qualify the extremity of his grief, but Fortune had destinated him more crosses: For as he was in the Inn bemoaning his misfortunes, a Cheater, that was in the next chamber, hearing him, came, and seeming to pity him, persuaded him by any means not to suffer grief to have the predomination; telling him that tears were but in vain, since they could not redeem that which was already lost, and promising to him if occasion required, the assistance both of his purse and person; and using many other good words, persuaded Dorilis to Sup with him, which he condescended unto; so that Supper being ended, when he expected that he who had invited him would have paid for his Supper, he upon the sudden found his friend departed (who under pretence of going to make water had left him) and having long expected his return in vain, his former losses made him jealous of his Cloak, which he searching for found wanting: Now was his only hope in his chain of Gold; but that being offered as a Gage for his expenses, was rejected as counterfeit: then was he wholly oppressed with sorrow, but not without just cause, for he on the morrow was constrained to exchange his rich apparel for far meaner, thereby to discharge his former expenses, which made him (like the prodigal son) to return home something wiser, but far poorer than when he forsook his father.   

CHAP. XV.  
A strange Robbery of a Merchant's Shop.  
IN the Country of Burgoin there lived one named Rapigny, who from his youth made a practice of Thieving, for which he had been often questioned: But this interior appetite of Robbing had so possessed him, that he forsook his Country of Burgundy to go unto Paris, where he thought he might with more safety exercise his slights; during his abode there, he committed so many robberies, that his name became dreadful to the citizens, and their whole discourse was of his notorious deceits; few of the city had seen him, his common walks being in the night, and those that did see him, did little think that he whom they saw, was the man of whom they so much talked.  
One day being desirous to put one of his inventions in practice, He being like a Tradesman apparelled, came unto a rich Merchant named Syriander, and told him that he understood that he returned much ware into the County of Burgundy to one Master Vernon, a man with whom he was well acquainted; wherefore he (having feigned that he had a Trunk full of Commodities to send to the same man) signified that he should be much obliged unto him, if he would be pleased to convey his also thither, whereunto this Merchant (little mistrusting his quality) condescended.  
Rapignus having thus far proceeded, caused a Trunk to be brought unto him so cunningly contrived, that it might be easily unlocked by one within; he therefore causeth a little boy (an Apprentice in his thieving trade) to be put within it, and having charged him upon his life not to speak or make any noise in the Trunk, but about midnight to come forth, and having opened the shop doors, to give entrance to his companions, he locked him therein; and having so done, he caused this Trunk to be brought to the house of Syriander, who not doubting of what was enclosed therein, received it, and placed it in his shop.  
Evening was already past, and night, the favourer of thiefs, had with her black mantle overspread the earth, when this young Boy (perceiving by the quietness of all things, that the household servants were long before retired, and therefore in all likelihood in a deep sleep) gently opened the Trunk wherein he was enclosed, but coming to the door found not the key therein as he expected, at which being much perplexed, he was about to give over his enterprise, and to retire into his shell; but he at length bethought himself of opening the shop windows, which he performed with much dexterity, none awaking at the noise; and having let in his companions, who there attended him, every one furnished himself with a parcel of the best wares in the shop, and so departed. The theft was soon found out, but it could not be known who the Actors were till four years after, one of them being to be executed at the Greave for some other robberies, confessed the fact, and discovered his companions, who were served in the same kind.   

CHAP. XVI.  
The cunning escape of a Cheater out of prison.  
IT is not long since a thief was brought into the Bishop's Prison in Paris, who had committed diverse robberies, among the rest, he had (but 15. days before) stolen to the value of 100l. in jewels, from a Goldsmith, for the compassing whereof, he practised this ensuing device.  
He had formerly taken notice that there was in this Goldsmith's shop a small casket of Rings, and Diamonds, which he much desired the fingering of, but being barren a long time of any invention, whereby he might gain it, at last he went unto a Joiner, to whom he gave directions for the making of a casket like unto that which the Goldsmith had; which being made according to his mind, he one day having perceived that there was at that time in the house but one servant, and a little boy, son to the Goldsmith, entered into the shop carrying this Box under his cloak; when he came in, he desired them to show him choice of Rings, whereupon the pattern of this new casket was presently fetched, but he perceiving that he could not easily bring to pass his intended project whilst that both of them were in the shop, he delivered the boy a piece of gold to change, and in the mean time causing the Box to be opened, he cheapened the Rings; and seeming to mislike of the price, he desireth the servant to show him others, but whilst he turned his back to fetch them, this fellow taking his opportunity, suddenly exchanged Boxes, putting his Box in the place of the other; then feigning that he could not tarry to look upon the other Rings, in regard he promised to give a friend the meeting where he knew he was by that time expected; he desired the Apprentice to keep the money (which the other was not yet come with) till he came again, and so departed: But he joined not long in this cheat, but within fifteen days after was taken, and had no doubt at that time been executed, had he not had some extraordinary means to escape; as thus, he sent a boy to one in the city, an Abettour of his stolen goods, to entreat him that he would make for him an Hare-Pie, and accompany him at the eating of it, which he (mindful of his former familiarity) performed; and having brought it to the Jail, where his friend was, did there sup with him & the Jailor. Having supped, his friend called him aside, and told him that the cause of bespeaking this Pie, was to prevent any mistrust which the Jailer might have had, had he not seen this; he having so said, proceeded to a second request, which was to work his delivery out of this place, by a plot which he would suggest; whereunto this Citizen promising his best endeavour, he signified unto him that the only way for his escape, was by sending unto him another Pie made like the former, where in stead of flesh, should put a long rope, and some Picklock instruments; which being made, and sent according to his appointment, he opened it, and taking forth the things enclosed, made so good use of them, that he the same night escaped; but having escaped, he was the same night apprehended, for a robbery suddenly committed after his departure out of prison, and being brought to the same place, was shortly after, for this and his former robberies, executed.   

CHAP. XVII.  
A Thief caught in a trap.  
A Certain Gentleman of Poitiers, named Morindor, came to Paris about the dispatch of some business of importance, which he had at Court; and had brought with him store of moneys, as well to discharge the expenses of his journey, as also to disburse for other particular occasions, where being arrived, another gentleman of his Country sent unto him, by an express messenger, to entreat him that he would be very careful of a great suit which he had then depending in the great Chamber.  
Morindor, who would not disoblige his friend, took this cause in hand; and although he were somewhat hindered by his own particular occasions, he notwithstanding ceased not to solicit in his friend's behalf: but whilst he passed and repassed thorough the Palace, and that he thus solicited, both for his own and friends right, he was perceived by two Cutpurses, who resolved among themselves, upon the first opportunity, to show him a trick of their activity; and to that end, they diverse times drew near him, but durst not adventure, a hand into his pocket, by reason that he knowing that the Palace was always frequented by such a base crew, was very circumspect to avoid all such mischievous accidents: but the subtlety and sleight of these Cutpurses, surpassing his care and diligence, he was at length surprised, for he being one day in a throng in the great Chamber, was rudely thrust by these fellows, and while he looked about to see whence that thrusting and violent motion proceeded, one of them thrust his hand into his pocket, and stole thence his purse, which he knew not till two hours after, when he (intending to have paid for some books, which he had bought in the Gallery of Booksellers) miss it; but could not on the sudden guess at what time he was so robbed by them, what in this case to do he knew not; nature had endued him with more wit then to chafe & fume at that he could not remedy, or by impatience, for losing a little, to injure him who gave him all.  
At last (he being well acquainted with the craftiness of the times) he resolved to be revenged, wherefore he being willing to requite them, went to a Smith, of whom he bespoke a springe to put into his pocket which might shut of itself, and suddenly catch whatsoever touched it: The Smith, being thoroughly experienced in his Art, made him one of the fairest, and most ingenious pieces that could be devised, and that with such Art and cunning, that it far exceeded the manner of Morindors' expression; who having contented the Smith, caused it to be placed in the same pocket from whence his purse was stolen; & having so done, he walked in the Palace four days, but on the fifth day, he viewing the portraitures of the kings which are upon the Pillars in the Hall, was perceived by the same cutpurse; who encouraged by the easiness of his first purchase, he resolved to adventure again, then drawing near to him, and watching his time when the people came thronging upon him out of the great Chamber, he gently put his hand into his pocket, but it no sooner entered, but this spring disbanded, so that where he thought to take, he was taken.  
Morindor, who felt the springe disband, seemed not to take notice of the Cutpurse, but began to take his walk from the one side of the Hall unto the other, thence into the great Chamber, the Galleries of the Palace, and so about; the Cutpurse (though unwilling) was forced to follow him foot by foot, for he could not withdraw himself he was so straight fastened in the springe; sometime Morindor taking a short turn, would suddenly thrust away the Cutpurse, as though he came too near him; then did the other, with an humble countenance, entreat him not to disgrace him further, but to accept of some indifferent satisfaction from him. To which Morindor seeming deaf, continued on his walk, so that it was not long before that many of the Palace perceived it, who gladly flocked together to see him led after that sort. At length, Morindor having for a long time walked from place to place, and by the shortness of his turns lengthened the pains of the Cutpurse: He turned himself, and with a choleric visage said unto him, What makes you follow me step by step Master Thief? It was you Sir that stole away my purse, and you shall dear answer it: At these words the other fell on his knees, and begging pardon, faithfully promised to restore it, if he would release him; but Morindor would not take words for deeds, but kept the Cutpurse thus shamefully imprisoned, until his Purse was brought unto him by one of the thiefs Comrades, who had thither accompanied him: Thus was the deceiver deceived.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
The Story of Amboise lafoy Forge a notable Cutpurse.  
AMboise lafoy Forge was brought up in Picardy, and as he increased in years, so did he in wickedness; he began with Pins, and ended with Pounds, which had weighed him down to hell, had not his present repentance, and temporal punishment, by God's mercy prevented the eternal, which we charitably conceive, because as the one half of his life was spent in evil, so the the other half was worn out in punishment; The one you shall see in the beginning, the other in the end of this ensuing History.  
This young fellow being past his childish tricks, as stealing Pins, Points, and the like, begins his youthful pranks thus:  
He goes one night to a Farmers house, and there (having formerly noted where his Poultry usually roosted) steals a Turkey, two Capons, & four Pullet's; which he having conveyed away (by his Companion in evil) he the same night breaks open a Baker's shop, furnisheth himself with a sufficiency of Bread; and afterwards, passing by a Tavern, and perceiving the Grates of the Cellar to be large, made shift to wreath himself in, where having found three or four good Flagons, he fills them with Wine, and having made himself frolic, refills them: The next morning he goes early unto this Farmor, Baker, and Vintner, and kindly invites them to dinner, they wonder at his free entertainment, and wish each of them, that what they had lost the last night had been there likewise, as more fitting for their bellies then for those Rogues that stole it: On that condition, replied Amboise, you would (I believe) forgive them their riot; whereunto they cheerfully answered, with all their hearts; but (said one of them) farewell it, what we have lost there, we have gained here: 'tis true indeed (said Amboise) for what I stole from each of you, yourselves have among you eaten, which I wish may do you much good: at which words, each of them took the more especial notice, of what they were entertained with; and the Farmer found that he had the like Poultry, as he that night had lost, and the Baker the like bread, and the Vintner the like wine served in in the like Pots; all which being considered, they found that his words were in earnest, and so they took them; for they suddenly rising, would have forsaken the room, in the heat of choler, but he persuades them that they could not eat their meat in better company, imitating therein the young Greek, who having perceived particular notice that his Citizens had lost the battle, came into the marketplace, and proclaimed that they had got the victory, upon which false rumour, he caused among the citizens a public joy for three days, but when the pitiful news of their overthrow was brought by some soldiers, fled from the battle, every one was ready to kill this false messenger, who had caused them to be filled with joy, in a time when they had just cause to be drowned in tears and sorrows: but he answered them, that they had more cause to thank him, then to murmur against him, because that he had changed their cause of discomfort, into comfort, and their mourning into a public rejoicing.  
But this first exploit of youth, was nothing in respect of what he did after, for it was not long before he came to one of the fairest women of the Parish, and sought earnestly to entice her to lewdness; but what he could not by fair words effect, he at last obtained upon the promise of twenty Crowns, which he (as then being not able to give) compassed by this means: He goes speedily to a rich Churl of the Parish, and desired to know of him, whether he could help him to five Crowns in Gold for Silver; whereunto he answered, That he had so much, but was loath to part with it: whereupon lafoy 〈◊〉 promised him two shillings on condition that he would bring it to his lodging, and let him have it in exchange for as much Silver as it came unto: This Clown (thinking on the gain which he should make by the exchange) condescended to follow la Forge unto his lodging, where the money being told out on a Table before two others of lafoy Forge his Society, he suddenly takes it up, and casts down an acquittance of five Crowns in lieu of it, and having so done departed; The Country-fellow followed him and demanded his money, but lafoy Forge answered, That he owed him long since that money, and that now paying it, he had given him an acquittance for his discharge, and desired to know what he would have more. By this means he got the five Crowns, and by those Crowns he attained even to the glutting of his lustful desires, for it was not long before he grew willing to surrender up that costly place to another; yet it vexed him that he had parted with his money on so light terms; and bethinks himself on a course how he might regain his 5 crowns so ill bestowed; to that end, he comes to his Leman, & told her he was pursued (for a small debt) by a company of Sergeants, and that he should be constrained, either to pawn, or sell, a cloak worth four or five pounds, unless she would furnish him with five or six crowns; he signifies, that if she would assist him, he would leave his cloak, and ever rest indebted unto her: she conceiving that she could not possibly lose any thing by the lending him the money, as long as she had so good a pawn; wished him to bring his cloak, and he should not fail to receive the money, both which was done accordingly. La Forge soon after had notice that this Gossip had invited some of her friends, lately married, to a feast; thither he comes, and desires the husband of this dainty dame, to help him to a cloak which his wife had borrowed for him when he went to the wedding of his invited guests; The good man of the house answered, he heard not of it, and for his part he had no use of it if his wife had borrowed it: he therefore asketh his wife whether she had borrowed any such cloak for him, or not, which she (suspecting that he meant to cheat her of her cloak and money) flatly denied even in his presence, whereat lafoy Forge being enraged, deeply swore that she had it, and therefore desired him that he would be pleased to look in her trunk, and he made no doubt, but that he should there find it: the good man being amazed at the confidence of the thief, went and looked in her trunk according to his desire, and there found to his great discontent, and her disgrace, what he there looked for; the greatness of which discredit, in the presence of her best friends, so grieved, that she pined away with extreme grief.  
After this he goes towards Paris, and by the way overtaking a young Scholar going thither to see his friends, he discoursed with him until he came to the corner of a great wood; then he resolutely told him, that either he must part with his suit of clothes or his life; the poor young man soon made his choice, and quickly gave his clothes that he might after live to enjoy others; so this our rascal entered into Paris all new, where he was not long, but by reason of his many bold, and impudent pranks, he was thought fit to be chosen Captain, or Ringleader of the infamously famous crew of Cutpurses, Cheaters, and the like; the which place that he might the better seem to deserve, he took upon him to cheat, or by some other way to surprise, one Messager, a crafty fellow, who could never be circumvented by any; although that diverse of his predecessors had endeavoured with the hazard of their necks, and some with their lives to have done it. He having heard of the wariness of this fellow, began to consider with himself, that he was not to be surprised by any ordinary way, wherefore setting his wits on the tenter-hookes, he at length overreached him thus.  
La Forge understanding that this Messager was accustostomed daily to go over the new Bridge, he came thither very well apparelled, & long expected his coming; at length he perceived him viewing the Samaritan, and the little garden below it, whereupon he took occasion to give him the Bonjour, and to entertain him with other discourses concerning the affairs of the time; Messager nothing suspecting him, because of his rich apparel, as they were in talk, there draws near unto them, one of lafoy Forges companions, being very well acoutred, and places himself on the other side of Messager. La Forge seeing his companion come (without whom he hoped not to effect any thing) casts his eyes down towards the river, and wisheth them to take notice what a wondrous strong Boat there was that did not sink with such an extreme weight of iron, his companion who stood on the other side of Messager, said unto him, I pray pardon me sir, if I say that you have a bad eyesight, for you mistake wood for iron, that Boat is laden with Billets, and not with Iron; for it is impossible that it should bear so much Iron and not sink: Sir (answered la Forge) I thank God, my sight is very good, and I know that there are some Boats laden with Faggots, Billets, or the like; but that Boat which I point at with my finger, being the second Boat from the bank, is laden with Iron, and I dare lay a good wager that that which I say is true.  
Messager, who saw plainly that the Boat was laden with Wood, was silent, yet smiled to himself at so great a mistake, little dreaming whereunto their contestation tended.  
At length their contention grew so hot, that they seemed like to have fallen from words to blows; in the end it came to a wager of ten Crowns, which was deposited into the hands of Messager, until it were decided by a nearer view; They having so done, call unto them the Boat-man and inquire of him wherewith his Boat was laden? he answers, with Wood: but lafoy Forge, the better to cover his intent, would not believe the Boat-man, but would pass from Boat to Boat (the better to colour his intent) by touching that which was the subject of his wager; which having done, he confessed that he had lost, and seemed wonderfully discontented at his so great mistake; the other laughing and winking on Messager, told lafoy Forge, that being he had won his money, he would bestow a Breakfast on him if he pleased to accept of it: which motion being embraced by la Forge, they both entreat Messager his company, in regard that he was present at the Wager; which he at first refused, excusing himself by reason of some business of importance that he had to dispatch in the City; but at last they persuade him to go with them.  
They then enter into one of the most noted Ordinaries, bespeak dinner, and whiles it is preparing, drink healths at his cost that won the wager; at last, towards the latter end of dinner, between the Pear and the Cheese, the other Cheater began to challenge la Forge, to play with him three casts at dice for the worth of another breakfast, but lafoy Forge refused it, as having no great skill in gaming, but wished Messager to have a bout with him, which he likewise refused. This their plot not succeeding according to their expectation, lafoy Forge signifieth unto Messager, that he was to go within two days towards Lions, and was well provided of moneys for his journey, but that it was in silver, which weighed heavily, and would prove troublesome in his journey; he desired therefore to know whether he could change 10. or 12l. of silver into gold, and offered him 2s. 6d. for the change; Messager considering the promised gain, told him he should have his desire, and presently drew forth a little bag which he had in his pocket, and begun to tell out his money at the end of the table, whilst lafoy Forge counts his at the other end; at length the ten pounds being ready told, Messager came and told him that the money was ready told, and desired his in exchange; lafoy Forge telleth the silver over again, to see whether there was the full sum, or any overplus; and watching his opportunity, draws together likewise the others gold, in the mean while that the other Cheater heaps up his money, and draws three Dice out of his pocket, saying, that he had won all; lafoy Forge his companion cries out, by my faith it was a brave cast; other Cheaters, who by la Forge his appointment were in the next Chamber, inquire concerning the cast, and asked whether lafoy Forge had played, who presently protested, and fearfully swore, that he had gained ten pounds at one cast; MESSAGER stands as mute as a Statue, and being much amazed knew not what to say; but seeing them seize on his money, he began to cry out that they were thiefs; the Host hastened to the cry, but lafoy Forge and his companions tell him, that it is bootless to cry after he had lost his money, for if that he had been afraid of losing it, he should not have hazarded it; thus would they have forced Messager to believe that he had lost his money at dice, when it was at Noddy; neither could his words, or other means prevail, for want of competent witness, what they had in possession could never be recovered from them. This la Forge within one fortnight after this feat, was taken by the Marshals men, and for this, and other the like cheats and robberies, was condemned for ever to the Galleys.   

CHAP. XIX.  
A Relation of the notable Cheats performed by one Mutio.  
MVtio was borne in the Country of Chartres, who before that he attained unto man's estate, did vainly forsake both his father, and father's house, and came to Paris; where he soon met with those who first brought him to poverty, and then into sharking courses; in which he had not long continued, but that he chanced to take notice of one Charles D' estampes, who dwelled in the University, and had a brother in his country and town of Chartres, a married man, and very rich, but without children. He (well knowing this brother of his, and as well the very place where he dwelled, as the rest of the whole country) comes unto this Charles D' estampes, and tells him that he came from Chartres to bring him both good and bad news, the bad news consisting in the death of his brother Francis, for whom he could not but grieve: the good, in that he had made him his Heir and Overseer of his whole Will. The Merchant hearing this news was much afflicted for the death of his brother, whom he dearly loved, and but little comforted for the estate he left him, in respect that he had a sufficiency before: but friend, said he to Mutio, Have you no letter for me? How came you to hear this news? Sir (said Mutio) to tell you the truth, I came late yesternight into the city, without as much as one cross or farthing, being robbed within five miles of the city, and was constrained, for my yesternights' expenses, to pawn my doublet, wherein was sowed a Letter from one of your Uncles, which I should have taken forth, but that mine Host finding my Doublet to be hardly worth my expenses (which were somewhat the larger by reason of my weary journey) hindered me that he might so be certain of his pay; he names his father unto him, and answers him very discreetly any question concerning his friends in those parts; which D' estampes considering, delivers him five shil. to redeem his doublet; being very desirous to see the letter; Mutio departs, and about an hour after returns, bringing with him a letter with this superscription;  
To my Worthy friend Master Charles D' estampes, Merchant, Dwelling in the Harp-street in Paris, these deliver.  
The Contents were these;  
Good Cousin,  
I Much grieve that I am ininforced (by this Bearer) to certify unto you the too certain news of your Brother his sudden and unexpected death; he was not above three hours sick, in which short time he (greatly mistrusting the approach of death) by will settled his estate, and hath made you his Heir and Executor, I would therefore advise you to hasten into the Country, as soon as conveniently you can, as well to settle your own affairs, occurring by your late fallen inheritance, as also by your presence to lighten the hearts of those that are much dejected for your Brother's departure: if in the mean time you will write or send; you may safely do it by this Bearer, who is very trusty in what he undertakes.  
Your very loving Uncle D'estampes.  
The Merchant having read this Letter, communicates it to his wife, who being of a covetous disposition, although she were without children, conceived more joy at the wealth fallen to her and her husband, than sorrow for her brother's death; wherefore she kindly entertained him that brought the news, which made Mutio hope well for a happy success of his enterprise: for he was resolved, that if he were admitted to lodge in the house he would open the door unto his companions, and so make them way to take thence what they thought fit, as he afterwards did: for he being entertained within the house, did in the night open the shop window, and cast forth a good piece of cloth to his companions, and having so done, did on the morrow hasten to be packing: but it happened, that before he was either gone, or discovered, that the Merchant's wife grew very sick, which made Mutio quickly conceive, that this her sickness would slacken her husband's voyage, he therefore returns to Chartres to use the same cheat to the Merchant's brother, as he had done to the Merchant himself, whither being come, he wrote a Letter directed to Master D'estampes to this effect;  
Brother,  
SInce the time that I had the opportunity of writing unto you last, Fortune hath taught me to what a depth of sorrow she could depress a laguishing woman; for death (envying the prosperity which I enjoyed, and the joy that I possessed, by so loving a husband, hath now bear aved me of him) by an accursed Pleurisy, which maliciously seized on him on the Wednesday, and killed him on the Thursday; it is a kind of cruelty that I myself am constrained to write the cause of my sorrow; but in respect that he hath made you his Executor, and hath likewise in his Will disposed of one part of his estate for your children's good, I thought it a part of my duty, by giving sudden notice of it, to express my dear affection to him, and love to you: I shall with you desire to see my mother, and to enjoy hers and your company to my comfort. Hasten therefore, for until your arrival, I shall account myself  
Your forlorn sister, Eliz. D'estampes.  
Mutio having penned this Letter, goes with it unto the brother of Master D'estampes, and signifying that he was his brother's servant, presented him the Letter; the contents whereof, being by him read, wonderfully grieved him, for that he dearly loved this his brother, and for his sake kindly entertained this his pretended servant: He and his mother prepare themselves mourning apparel, and dispose and order their affairs at home, against their intended journey to Paris, whither he and his mother are now resolved to go: in the mean time Mutio is not idle, but watching his opportunity, (whiles most of the house were at Church, and the rest not suspecting him) pilfereth two or three rich Diamonds out of a small Casket, which he (being his Craftsmaster) so neatly closed again, that it could not be suddenly discovered.  
To conclude, he framed such a simple and harmless countenance, and thereto used so natural a behaviour in his demeanour, towards this younger brother, that both he and his mother take their journeys towards Paris; the one to prove the Will, the other to comfort her disconsolate daughter: so that now there are two several men parted from several places, and going to different places about one and the same cause, both of them enjoying their perfect health, both each by other thought to be dead, and both of them building Castles in the air, with the conceited wealth left by the one unto the other: neither of them as yet perceiving the cunning theft of Mutio.  
It was not long after the departure of Mutio out of Paris, before the wife of Charles Destampes, began to recover; her husband therefore begins his intended journey toward Chartres, to settle his brother's affairs, whiles he likewise was onward toward Paris: Now it happened, that he (being either better horsed, or setting forth sooner than his brother) came with his mother unto an Inn being in the midway between both places; and because they were very weary, they there took up their lodging; and having supped, went into two several beds in the same chamber; Charles on the other side coming from Paris somewhat late into the same village, and enquiring for the best Inn, was directed to the very same place; where he having supped, was brought into Chamber, thorough which he (that had occasion to go to or fro thorough his brother's Chamber) must of necessity pass.  
It happened, that this man about midnight, heard his brother speak unto his mother (for there was but a thin wainscot partition between them) so that it was easy for him to hear what they said; the voice he heard, made him apprehend that it was surely his brother's spirit; but afterward considering that it might be some other that had the like voice, he blows out the candle, and resolves to settle himself to sleep.  
About an hour after, the younger brother who lay in the other Chamber, being troubled with the Squertego, called up the Chamberlain to bring him a Candle, which being come, he takes his Cloak and passeth close by the bed where his brother lay, talking by the way unto the Chamberlain; his brother awakes at the noise, and began to be in a terrible fear, for now he thought he heard him speak more distinctly, and saw a glimpse of his visage. The other holds on his way, but in his return towards his Chamber, he became so curious, as with his Candle to take a more full view of him that lay so near him, who opening his eyes knew his countenance, and shrinks under the clothes that he might no more be troubled with his sight, for his whole body trembled by reason of his extreme fear.  
Young D'estampes being amazed to see his brother there whom he certainly held for dead, let fall the Candle and ran away as fast as his legs could carry him; he hath the same conceit that his brother hath, and thinks that he saw, to be his Spirit, so that both of them were wonderfully troubled at their strange visions: the young man tells his mother what he had seen; she being as other women, of a weak spirit, confirmed his opinion by telling him, that he had left some vow unperformed, which was the cause that his Spirit walked; so that the extremity of fear presenting diverse objects to their thoughts, they continued all night wakening in great perplexity; at length, day appearing, the elder brother ariseth first, and dresseth himself in his mourning apparel, the younger likewise forsakes his bed at the same time, being both dressed, this man opens the door thinking to go down, and there to inquire of the Host who it was that lay in the adjoining Chamber, but seeing his brother in his mourning clothes, he amazedly retired; and the other, being no less afraid, goes down, and having inquired who they were that lay in the inner Chamber, he was answered, that they were of Chartres, & that they were one man and one woman; then began he to take courage, thinking it might be that the news of his brother's death was false; but then he wondered why (if it were his brother) he should mourn: To conclude, the Host interposing between both parties, the two brothers came and embraced each other, greatly wondering at so strange an accident; Each of them relate unto the other the roguery of Mutio, in delivering feigned letters: so having spent together some time in mirth, each returned to his own home; where the one found that Mutio his fingers had been busy among his jewels, and the other among his best stuffs.  
This fellow shortly after was taken in the company of some Cutpurses, and for his villainies being found guilty; first burned with the King's mark, and then condemned to the Galleys at Marseilles.   

CHAP. XIX.  
A Facetious Relation, how one Maillard cheated a Goldsmith of a rich piece of Plate, etc.  
NEcessity is the mother of inventions, (said a Philosopher) not without good reason, for when we are once fall'n into this labyrinth, our own mishaps do quicken our wits, and furnish us with some policy whereby to save ourselves (if it be possible) from the lowest degree of misery. An example whereof, we will show in the notable exploits of Maillard, whose ill education increased his natural propension to wickedness, and whose present wants enforced him to work his wits for a Remedy. The first action he did after his arrival at Paris, was to enrol himself among the crew of cutpurses, and (with them to frequent the new Bridge their Rendezvous) he chiefly associated himself with two of the most subtle of the troop; from thence he came to the Cordeliers, where he insinuated himself into the acquaintance of one of the Friars of the house that he might cause him to act a part in a Comedy.  
Good Father (said he) I have a brother that within these few days hath conceived such grief and melancholy for the death of his wife (whom he loved as his own soul) that it hath almost distracted him; sometime he telleth us that he seeth her Ghost, and that it talketh unto him; wherefore I am come purposely to entreat you to use your endeavour to draw him back into the good way, and to settle his distracted senses; otherwise I fear that the Devil (who still presents unto him a thousand fancies and Chimeras) will set him wholly, and irrecoverably beside himself: tomorrow I will bring him unto you, that you may give him admonitions, and withdraw those thick clouds of sorrow which darken his understanding: Amidst his rave, and idle talk, he cries out, that he is robbed, and demands his Money, Plate, and other things to be restored unto him; we have given him some Physic to purge these melancholy humours from him, but to small purpose; how ever, I hope that your advice, and holy admonitions, will more effectually work upon his understanding: You may bring him hither (said the Friar) I will use my best endeavours to settle his mind; this proceeds out of a dryness of the brain, caused by his vehement and extreme grief: Upon these words Maillard returns, being very glad that he had laid his nets so handsomely to catch the first Partridge: he therefore returns unto his Comerades, and certifies them of his plot and purpose: the next morning very early, he takes one of his companions with him, being clothed in the habit of a Priest, goes unto the Exchange bridge, and there cheapeneth a silver Chalice which was worth eight pounds: The Goldsmith doubted nothing of the deceit, supposing that his companion being like a Priest should have paid him for it; they having agreed upon the price, Maillard desires him to send it by his man along with them to the Covent of Cordeliers, and that there he should receive his money; they thence went straight to the Cordeliers, about nine of the clock in the morning, and by the way entertained the Goldsmith's man with so good discourse, that he never dreamt aught of the ensuing deceit: Being come to the gate, Maillard seeming to be well acquainted with the house, rang the Bell, and demanded to speak with such a Father; the Porter answered that he was at Church with a Gentleman: Sir, than said he to the Goldsmith, you may leave the Plate with the Porter, whilst we go hear Mass, and as soon as it is done, you shall receive your money; to the which he being willing, delivered it to Maillards companion, who gave it to the Porter; so they went into the Vestry, where the Friar was putting on his Cope to say Mass, Maillard taking his opportunity, steps unto him, and tells him that that was his brother of whom he had spoken the day before.  
The Friar dreaming nothing of the deceit, turns to the Goldsmith, my friend, saith he, have a little patience till Mass be ended, and I will satisfy you.  
The Goldsmith imagining that he should certainly receive money after Mass, was content to stay and take his place in the Chancel; whither Maillard and his Comrade bore him company till the time of offering: But not being willing to let go the present occasion, he whispered the Goldsmith in the ear, that they would go before to the next Tavern (which they named) to drink a quart of wine, and there they would expect his company: content (quoth the Goldsmith) and so they parted. The Goldsmith yet doubted not of any deceit, or fraud, in their discourse, or carriage, but thought it sufficient that he had the Friar's words for his satisfaction, and that he had seen the Plate delivered into the hands of the Porter of the Covent.  
Maillard (mean while) comes with his Comrade unto the Porter, and asks for the Chalice which he had left with him, feigning that he would go say Mass in a Chapel near adjoining, at the request of some devout ones, as the manner is in Paris: The Porter believing that according to the usual custom he would go say Mass, delivered him the Chalice, who immediately departed, and being out at the gate, you may conceive, they lost little time in going, for they were not troubled with the Gout.  
The Friar (the mean while) who knew nothing of the deceit, having said Mass, came into the Vestry, whither the Goldsmith followed him pricking his ears like an Hare, and preparing his Bag and Gold-weights to receive money for his Chalice, to whom the good Friar (drawing him aside) began this discourse.  
My friend (saith he) is it long since your wife died, and that you have been troubled with this malady? for I must know the cause and beginning thereof, that I may the better apply a Remedy.  
What wife (said the Goldsmith) I am not married, this is not the matter that brought me hither: I know well (said the Friar) that you are not married, for than you would soon have forgot your former wife, and it is not likely, being you bore her so great affection, that you would so soon seek a new one, but it is good to know the time since she died, that I may the better ease you of your grief.  
But Sir (said the Goldsmith) I suppose you take me for some other, I have no Wife, neither yet intent to have one; I come only for to receive money that is due unto me: My friend, said the Friar, I knew very well you would demand money, nevertheless I doubt not but to restore you to your perfect mind: Have you been at Confession since you perceived yourself troubled with this disease? Have you purged your conscience from the evil deeds you have done, by Confession and Repentance? for sometimes God doth afflict us for our sins and offences; excuse me if I search so narrowly into your affairs, it is not but for your good. Sir, replied the Goldsmith, excuse me if I must needs say one of us wants his senses, and is not in his right mind; I have nothing to do with your Tale of a Cock and a Bull, I demand eight pounds which you are to pay me, or deliver my ware again, notwithstanding all these crafry shifts and mockeries.  
Have patience my friend (said the Friar) I will do my best to give you content, but what I say unto you is for your good, you ought not to be so Choleric; and to tell you my mind in few words, I think it most necessary that you first seek remedy for your Soul, and after, that you take Physic to cure your Body; for all these violent passions proceed from an indisposition and dryness of the Brain. You pay me fairly said the Goldsmith, Is this the money that you mean to give me? Good Sir, either pay me my 8 l which we agreed for, or else restore unto me my Chalice; It is not reason that you should detain my master's goods, and fob me off with an idle discourse.  
The Friar all this while not discerning any sign or token of distraction in him, began to suspect some deceit; and to this, the absence of Maillard added more cause of suspicion: Of what Chalice speak you, said he, have you given me a Chalice? I demand money (answered the Goldsmith) for the Chalice, for which you sent two Gentlemen to whom you spoke before Mass; the price agreed upon was 8 l we have left it with the Porter to deliver to you; if you desire a further proof you may speak with the Porter himself, or send for those that came with me, they are not far off, for they stay for me at the next Tavern, where I promised to come unto them.  
The Friar hearing this discourse, began to change his tune. It is true (said he) that he which came half an hour ago unto me, came also unto me yesterday, and certified me that he had a brother much troubled in mind, because of the loss of his Wife, whom he so dear loved, that he began (through grief and melancholy) to be beside himself, often imagining that he saw her and talked to her Ghost; and that I would do a work of Charity to use my endeavour to settle him again in his right mind: Wherefore I crave pardon for this my frivolous discourse, for I supposed you to be the man of whom he spoke; but as for the Chalice of which you speak, I know nothing of it, perhaps he took me for the Guardian of Compeigne who much resembles me; you may do well to go to him, I will go along with you to him: Whither being come, the Guardian answered that he knew nothing of the business, and that for his part he had given no order to any to buy a Chalice.  
The Goldsmith at this began to doubt of the deceit, and goes unto the Porter to demand his Chalice; who answers him, that it was true they delivered one unto him while they went to Mass, but the Priest who delivered it unto him, had taken it to go say Mass, and that questionless he should find him in some Chapel near thereabouts: Whereupon, all in a rage, he began to threaten the Porter to sue him: but he told him, he could not any way hurt him, for that he had delivered it to him that gave it into his hand: After many angry words had passed between them, the Goldsmith was constrained to go search about in the Tavern and Chapels near adjoining, to find out either the Priest or his Companion; but he might as well search for a needle in a bottle of Hay, for at last he returns home without either Chalice or money.  
Hereby may young Novices take warning to beware how they trust to outward shows, lest they dear pay for it in the end.  
Thus Maillard came clear off with his Cup worth eight pounds, of whom you shall yet hear related further examples of deceit; that being forewarned, you may be armed against the like dangers to avoid them: whereof one is as followeth:  
Maillard having shared his former prey, and soon spent his part, (according to the vulgar proverb, Lightly come, lightly go,) was again driven to his shifts, but resolved to play at small game rather than sit out. And having learned that a Citizen of Saint Anthony's street had a Farm at a place called Turon, not very far from Paris: he goes thither, and learns diverse particularities; as the name of the Farmer and his servants, etc. Now he returns to Paris, and giveth notice to his Companions, of his intended plot: and having chosen his time, apparels himself in the habit of an husbandman, and taking a Goad in his hand, as if he were some brave Carter in a leathern jacket, comes unto the Citizen, and after a clownish manner, salutes him with these words; God give you good morrow, sir, I think your Worship does not know me, it is but eight days since I came to live with your Farmer, Martin Clare, at Turon: but alas, sir; a shrewd misfortune hath befallen us: The Citizen and his wife being much troubled with these words, began to fear that the house was burnt, or the Farmer dead, or some bad accident had happened; and hastily demands what was the matter: Sir, answered Maillard, a sad mischance happened unto us; as your Farmer and myself were coming to Paris with a Cart laden with Corn to sell, as ill hap would, because of the bad way, my Master got up upon the Cart, but as we came to the end of the Town, beyond Saint martin's in the suburbs, one of the wheels broke, so that my Master falling, hath broke his leg quite asunder; this accident hath much troubled me; but making a virtue of necessity, I was forced to take one of my horses, & to carry him to the Bone-setters near St. Martin's Cross, the whilst I got his son to look to the Cart; and having given order to have two new wheels made, mean while my master sent me hither to entreat your Worship that you would be pleased to come unto him, for he is in great danger.  
The Citizen hearing this sad news rose up, showing by his looks that he was much grieved for this sorrowful mischance, his wife also seemed much troubled, and would have been contented to have gone with her husband to see him; but he was unwilling, and goes himself along with this supposed Carter, talking with him (as he went) about his lands at the Farm, wherein Maillard so satisfied him, that he thought him to be an honest and understanding fellow.  
But as they came near to St. martin's, and were turning into St. Honore street, Maillard began to give him just instructions where to find his Master, and where the Bonesetter dwelled, telling him that he must return to his horses, and haste to have the Wheels fitted to his Cart; saying, that he wanted money, as ill hap was, to pay the Wheel-wright, wherefore desired him, that if he had two or three and twenty shillings about him, to let him have it, otherwise he should come too late to the market; saying withal, that he would not make two mishaps of one, and that his Master would pay him again. The Citizen without any difficulty delivers him 20s. saying that that was all he had about him, and goes on his way with all speed supposing to find his Farmer in great danger of death, and little misdoubting of the deceit, for Maillard had named unto him his grounds, how and where they were seated, and what store of Corn they were like to yield that year, and many other particulars, which he had learned at the Farmers own house.  
Maillard returns, and not contented with the twenty shillings he had cheated of the Citizen, resolves to do the like to his wife: he therefore makes all possible haste to the Citizen's house, where he found the wife dressing herself, and saith unto her, Mistress, your husband's worship hath sent me hither, (he is now with the Bonesetter, who gives us good hope and assurance of the recovery of my Master) he desires your worship to send him twenty shillings to give the Chirurgeon in hand towards the Cure, my Master will pay you as soon as his Corn is sold.  
The good woman being glad to hear that the Farmer was in good hope of recovery, makes no scruple, but delivers him twenty shillings; so he departs the house, and goes to his companions, to whom he related his adventures; but he did not long glory in his wickedness, for the Goldsmith, from whom he had cheated the Chalice, chanced to espy him in Saint Germains Fair, lying in wait to entrap others, and by him was himself entrapped; and for that, and other the like cheats and robberies, he was broken upon the wheel as he most justly deserved; Divine Justice seldom suffering any long to escape, who so unjustly lay hands on the goods of others, and lead their lives, as it were, in deffiance of his Commandments, who hath said, Thou shalt not steal, but shalt love thy neighbour as self, and do unto others, as thou wouldst be done unto.   

CHAP. XXI.  
The multiplicity of Thiefs.  
THe antiquity of thiefs I have already spoken of, I will now speak of the modern, and those daily conversant among us.  
The Tailor steals, demanding a third part of cloth more than needs to make a suit; and when he that causeth it to be made, suspecting his honesty, would be present at the cutting of it out, he troubles him, and so dazzles his sight, with the often turning and winding the breadth and length of the piece, that he makes his senses become dull, with his long attention; in the mean time, the Tailor taking his opportunity, casts the cloth into a false pleat under the shears, and so cuts it out as single, when the piece is double, whereby he makes a great gain; besides what he extracts out of silver or gold Lace, Buttons, Silk and the like; of which, a good part he condemns to his Hell, from whence there is no redemption.  
The Weaver steals, in demanding more Warp than the cloth requires, weaving fifty yards in stead of forty five, and with the abundance of diverse broken threads, he makes one continued, which is worth unto him the eighth part of what he robs.  
The Shoemaker restores with his teeth that which he stole with his cutting knife, biting, and stretching the Spanish Leather, to the end that out of what is given him to make one pair of shoes, he might gain at least an upper leather unto himself, and if the leather be his own, he puts therein a scurvy sole, and sows it with rotten thread, to the end that it may wear out the sooner, and he gain the more from his either simple or prodigal Customer.  
The Physician, and Chirurgeon steal, the one prescribing, and the other applying medicines which may increase the disease, to the end, that prolonging the time of Cure they may increase their fees.  
The Apothecary robs with a Qui for a Quo, selling one Drug for another, and taking that which is best cheap, without considering what humour it should purge, or what virtue the drug hath which he applieth: by which he robs the Physician of his reputation, and the patient of his life: and if by chance there is asked of him an oil which he hath not, he will not fail to give some other instead of it, that he may not lose the credit of his shop.  
The Merchant robs, in taking extraordinary use, and exceeding the just price of his Commodity; and sometimes by writing down in his book a debt, which hath been already paid.  
The Notary and Clerk robs with an (etc.) a whole inheritance, for a little money; will by false writing give away a man's life by a voluntary mistake, writing guilty for not guilty.  
The Lawyer and Attorney robs, selling an hundred lies to their poor Clients, making them believe that their Cause is good, although they apparently see he hath no right to that he claims: And it often comes to pass, that one Attorney agreeth with another, to sell the right of the parties, and divide the gain between themselves.  
The Judge robs men of justice, becoming passionate on the behalf of that man, who by some present, hath beforehand corrupted him; and violently wresting the text of Bartol. and Baldus for his own gain.  
The Grocer, and such as sell by weight, rob; by nimbly touching with the little finger, the tongue of the beam, whereby he turns the scale which way he pleaseth, and so cheats the buyer of his weight.  
The Bookseller robs, by selling an imperfect Book, for one perfect; by recommending a Book to his Customer for good, which he knows to be dull, and lies heavy on his hand, and also by selling a Book of an old Edition in the stead of a new.  
The Vintner robs after diverse sorts, mingling and confounding one wine with another, besides the water which he puts in it, and when the wine, being often baptised, hath lost his strength, he hangs in the vessel a little bag full of Cloves, Pepper, Juniper, and other Drugs; with which he makes it yet seem good and right.  
The Butcher robs, blowing the pieces of flesh with a quill to make them seem a great deal fairer, and that they may yield more than they are worth.  
The Perfumer robs, by sophisticating the perfumes, and by multiplying the musk with the burnt liver of a Cow, the Amber with Soap and Sand, and Civet with Butter.  
The Scholar robs, stealing from Saint Augustine, and Aquinas, etc. the best of their works, and utters their doctrine as his own, seeming an Inventour of that he is not.  
Thus you see all rob, and every Tradesman hath his way and particular craft, for the deceitful working of his own ends.   

CHAP. XXII.  
A Facetious Relation of a Parisian thief condemned to the Galleys at Marseilles.  
SIr, you may perhaps think that we live disorderly, without either Laws or Discipline, but you are therein mistaken; for we have first our Captain or Superior, who ordaineth and disposeth what Thefts shall be committed, by whom and how: under his Command are all sorts of Thiefs, Highway Thiefs, Tirelaines, Skipjackes, Picklock's, Church-robbers, Cutpurses, Nightwalkers, Boudgets, etc.  
Highway Thiefs rob on great Rhodes, and Deserts, with great cruelty and tyranny; for they seldom commit a Robbery without a murder, fearing to be discovered to the Justice: The means and slights they use in their Exploits, are diverse; for sometimes, as in a City, they dog a man for a fortnight together, until he departs out of Town, and the better to entrap him, one of the company goes disguised in the habit of a Merchant to lodge in the same Inn, with cloak-bag or pack stuffed with old cloth, giving out, that he is a strange Merchant, and that he is fearful to go on his intended journey alone; with this his dissembling he discourseth with the poor Merchant or Passenger, and so drawing from him cunningly what he desires to know; as whence he is, whither he goes, what sort of merchandise he carries, or what other business brought him thither, and at what time he departs; thus he gathereth by his discourse, of the richness of his Booty: whereof he gives notice to his Consorts, who attend him in some place fitting their purpose; others hide themselves behind some well grown bushes, and when they perceive afar off a Passenger coming, than they cast into the way a Purse, or a Budget, or some such thing, to the end that when he alights and stays to take it up▪ they may lay hands on him and all he hath: Others keeping themselves a little from the highway, fain a lamentable voice, by which they urge the Passenger to stay and see what the matter is; and whiles the Plaintiff dissemblingly relates unto him his grief, the Ambush breaks forth and strips him to his shirt.  
The Tirelaines take their names from the Theft they commit, which is to steal Cloaks in the night; and these use no other subtlety then mere occasion. They go always three and three, or four and four together, between nine and ten in the night; and if they find occasion in the midday they will not lose it: They go forth to steal Cloaks, most commonly, in the darkest nights and most rainy; and to those by places which are not much frequented, that the cries of those they rob may not cause their apprehension: They are sometimes accustomed to be clothed like Lackeys, and to enter where there is any Mask or great Feast, feigning that they seek for their Masters; and with this liberty they find an heap of Cloaks (which the Gentlemen, or others leave in the Hall, assuring themselves that no body would there offer to touch them) and so in the sight of many they boldly take them away.  
The Skipjacks take their names from Ship-boys, who mount nimbly, by Cords, to the top of the highest Mast: Those who bear this name, rob by night, mounting lightly by a Ladder of Cords, at the end whereof are fastened two little nooses, or hooks of Iron, to the end that casting it to the window it may take hold and fasten, and that they may easily get in and out of the house, and carry away what ever comes to their hands, and having performed their exploit, they readily fasten a small Cord to the very point of the two little hooks, which being drawn, after their descent, raiseth up the hooks, so that the Ladder falleth without any trace or mark of theft.  
Picklock's, are those that carry sundry kinds of Instruments with which they open all sorts of doors.  
Church-robbers, are those who lie lurking in some Pew when Evening Prayers are ended, and the night following, having furnished themselves with what purchase they can get, at last pick open the Church-door, or break through one of the windows and so depart.  
Cutpurses are the commonest Thiefs of our Common wealth, whose chiefest Art consists either in neatly cutting, or nimbly, yet warily taking a Purse out of one's Pocket, without either being perceived or suspected: these (most commonly) frequent Churches, Sermons, Fairs, & other public Assemblies, that in the midst of the throng they may the safer act their feats of activity; they are accustomed to go well apparelled, to the end, that if they approach any Gentleman of quality, they may have the less cause to suspect them: they for the most part seek out strangers, such as are the High and Low Dutch, who are accustomed to stand gaping and gazing with open mouth on some rarities, being transported with such wonder and amazement, that in their study and trance, their shirt might almost be taken away from them: They always go two to take a Purse, and as soon as he that is appointed for the feat, hath performed it, he gives what he hath taken to his companion, who stands by him; so that if he be taken, he may more boldly deny the act, and justify his innocence before the world.  
I will tell you the industry which I once used; the last year there came unto the City of Lions, a Merchant of Italy, rich, courteous, and of good carriage, who being noted by our spies, I was commanded to undertake him. I arose early that morning, that I might not lose any occasion, and having followed him thorough diverse streets and Churches, (for he was very zealous) we came unto an assembly of Merchants, which are accustomed to meet about eleven of the Clock; I seeing him there alone approached him, and began to enter into a discourse concerning a Traffic which might prove very commodious and profitable to him; to which my discourse he attentively listened, and after much discourse, the company greatly increasing, while my Companion seconded my discourse, and he attentively harkened unto him, not observing me, I softly put my fingers into his pocket to search, or try, its depth and wideness, and quickly found that it was capable of my whole hand, so that at the first adventure I got his Purse, and at the second, a Silver Watch fastened to a small Chain of Gold; with which I might have been well contented, if The every had any limits, but bening resolved to adventure the third time, to try whether I could draw from thence a dainty fine wrought Holland Handkerchief (which I had seen him use but a little before) but I could not be so dexterous in this third feat, nor my Companion so sweetly eloquent in his discourse, but he felt me, and hastening with his hand to his pocket could not but meet with mine; whereat being much troubled, and finding his Purse and his Watch gone, he seized on my Collar, and said I was a Thief: I now foreseeing the danger which might happen to me by my rashness, gave my Purse and Watch to my Comrade under my cloak as soon as I had stole them. Wherefore being assured that he could not find about me that wherewith he charged me, I laughed at what he said, and gave him the lie a thousand times: The Merchant notwithstanding, held me fast, demanding his Purse with a loud voice, in so much that by reason of the noise, much people were gathered about the place; but my Comrade tendering my honour and safety, and fearing the danger I was in, hastened to a Crier, which he found not far off, and procured him to cry, that if any one had lost a Purse and Watch, they should come to such an Inn, and there they should hear of them, and upon a reasonable recompense for the finding, and the marks told, he would deliver them; scarce had this good Italian heard the cry, but he leaves me, entreating me, with great humility, to pardon his rash censuring of me, which I did at the entreaty of those that were by, and so left them: He as swift as a Roebuck hastens to the Crier, tells him the making of his Purse and Watch, and maketh it appear that he lost them, but he who had caused him to make the Cry, was not to be found: And thus I narrowly escaped the danger that I ran into.  
The Nightwalkers, are those who take their walk about the Town towards the beginning of evening, and finding some door open, they softly enter, hiding themselves in some obscure place, till midnight, when they cast out at the windows whatsoever they find within the house. I once adventured to do the like; but to my cost. It happened that on an Holiday, after Evening Prayer, going to seek my fortune, it was my ill luck to spy a door half open, thorough the which putting my head, I perceived that all my body might enter; which having done, I went along a Ladder unto a great Chamber, very well furnished, and being confident that I might lie safe under a bed which was therein, until the household was all retired to their rests, I took that course: after I had lain some four hours on the ground, I suddenly heard a noise of people coming up towards the Chamber, and presently by the light of a Candle, which they brought with them, I espied the feet of two or three servants, who covered a table with a great deal of care, and (as I found afterward to my cost) it was there the Master of the house intended to sup: The Table being furnished with diverse sorts of meats, four or five persons sat them down thereto, (besides Children that were in the house mingling their supper with diverse Discourses: I was at that time so affrighted, that I verily think (if the noise of them and their children's voices had not hindered it) they might easily have heard the shaking of my thighs one against another: by ill luck there was a little Dog in the house, which went up and down gnawing those bones which were cast under the Table; and one of the Children casting down a Bone, a Cat which watched at the end of the Table (being more diligent than the Dog) took it and ran with it from the Dog under the Bed; the Dog runs after the Cat, snarling at her, and endeavours to take away the bone; But the Cat, by the help of her claws, so well defended herself, that having given the Dog two or three scratches, so angered him that they made a fearful noise, which made one of the Lackeys take up a Fire-shovel out of the Chimney, and cast it so fiercely under the Bed, that if it had hit my nose with the edge, (as it did my Breech with the handle) it had taken it away clean: but with much ado he made the Cat go from under the Bed, yet did the Dog remain behind, grumbling and barking, with such eagerness, that neither cheering him, nor threatening could appease him; at which they who served at the Table, being offended, began to beat him, and cast him almost into the fire, leaving me as if I were breathing my last: The confusion that the Dog wrought being ended, there was another that began to increase in my guts, with such violence (by reason of the apprehension and fear that I was in) that being constrained to sneeze thrice, I could not but offend my Breeches twice. These two noises meeting, and by their conjunction augmenting, caused those at the Table to arise and see what this was; so that I was taken with the present offence, and was subject to the rigour of their vengeance; no Plea that I could make being sufficient to defend me: They stripped me stark naked, and binding my hands and my feet, began to scorch me with their Lights, not without a great deal of laughter and scorn; and having satisfied their fury, they delivered me into the hands of the Justice, from whom I parted signed and sealed.  
The Budgets, are Thiefs which run themselves into diverse inconveniencies and dangers, for they sometimes cause themselves to be enclosed in some Bale, Hamper, or Trunk, as if they were some merchandise, and to be brought and left in some rich man's house, to be conveyed to some country Chapman to whom they fain they would send it; to the end that in the night, every one being asleep, he may with his knife or key make way out, and so rob the house; which trick I once acted to my great disgrace; for a friend of mine feigning that he had four Bales which he desired to have conveyed into the country, enclosed me within one of them; and having so done, conveyed them to a Goldsmith's shop to be there kept (as for a friend of the Goldsmiths whom he had named to him) until the Carrier arrived: The Goldsmith little mistrusting any roguery to be intentended, willingly received them into his house, in regard that the time was not long that they were to trouble the house; but it unfortunately happened that in the night, when I thought to have performed my intended exploit, three or four Apprentices who had made a match to spend an hour or two in mirth, entering the shop, settled themselves some on one Bale and some on another; and that wherein I was enclosed, was not so free, but that I soon felt a burden, yet not so great, but that I could indifferently well bear it; but having drunk themselves merry, they at the last betook them to their rest, which was no rest to me, for whereas they were severed before, they now made choice of that Bale wherein I was enclosed, for their bed, & thereon slept so profoundly, that a man might have drawn them a mile from their Couch and not have wakened them: At length (being almost stifled with excessive weight) I moved a little, and perceiving the immobility of that which was on me, I verily thought that they had put on me another Bale: with which conceit, and the extreme torment that I suffered, I drew my knife, and cut a hole through that wherein I was enclosed, and made a large gash in the Buttocks of him who lay upon me; whereupon he arose like Lightning, and cried out unto the neighbours for help, thinking that one of his companions would have killed him: the cry was so great, that it not only raised diverse of the neighbours, but also hastened the Officer, who entering, found the poor fellow that was hurt, and the rest in great perplexity; he examines the man that was hurt, without taking notice of the Bale, thinking it needless to inquire in what part he had received his wound, but to know the person that gave it. The Goldsmith, considering the circumstances, began to think that the abundance of blood which he had lost had surely spoiled the Stuffs; and approaching the Bale, he found it open; and putting his finger therein, to feel in what case the Bale was, he lighted on my Beard; I lay still, in hope that he would not guess what it was: but he taking a Candle in his hand, drew near again, and holding down the candle more narrowly to search what was in it, the scalding liquor of the candle fell upon my face, which forced me to stir a little; whereupon he suddenly cried out, thiefs, thiefs, so I was instantly apprehended, and at length, after a sound whipping, condemned to serve in the Galleys for ten years, and thus was I rewarded according to my misdeeds.   

CHAP. XXIII.  
The grateful thief.  
AS I studied the Laws in the University of Orleans, I learned of a Scholar of Touraine this ensuing History, he having formerly heard it from the mouth of him to whom the chance happened.  
A young man of Poictou, named Cyran, son of a Merchant was sent to Tours by his father to dispatch some business which appertained to traffic. This young man was naturally pitiful, and from his youth inclined to give alms without distinction of persons. The honour of the King of glory which may be much advanced by works, aught to be endeavoured with judgement: for at length discretion is the touchstone of humane actions, and it is not enough to do good, a man must do it, and it must be done to purpose. Alms is one of the most excellent and most acceptable actions which those to whom God hath given means can do, (for as the Divine Psalmist hath sung; He that hath distributed, and given to the Poor, his justice shall remain from age to age, and his horn, (that is to say) his power shall be exalted in glory) but it must be performed with a judicious distribution, otherwise it will be a confused scattering, rather than a charitable disposing: And it may be done to such, as to whom to give were no better then to put a sword into a madmans' hand, or to give means to men to commit Riotous excess: it is true that Virtue consists in a mean, equally distant from erroneous extremes: and as to give inconsiderately, is rather a profuse prodigality than a true liberality; so also to take heed of too many circumstances when one gives an Alms, argueth rather a pinching niggardliness then a good judgement: And likewise, as we must not too narrowly sift the qualities of those persons to whom we show our Charity, so must we not be altogether blindefold in our gifts; And among these uncertainties, we must so frame our intentions, as not to consider only to whom we give, but also for whose sake, even for his sake who hath promised to require the least Alms given for the love of him. There are Iliads of hard hearts which find fault with the greatest part of these poor creatures who beg of them. This man (say they) is strong enough to gain his living; that is a counterfeit, this not too old, that not too young, all are in their judgements unworthy; and this is only to have in show a just pretence to keep in their purse that metal (wherewith they make their Idol) without purchasing the name of covetousness: There be others which have open hands, and more for honour then for pity give, or through pity cast away indifferently to all, without considering that it is to nourish the laziness of a great many vagabonds, who stand more in need of a spiritual alms by a good rebuke, then of a temporal, which they abuse in lewd and strange deboistness: But who can have a spirit so truly discerning, sithence there is nothing in the world more deceiving then outward appearance. For example, there run thorough the streets of Townns, and thorough the Country's, a multitude of vagabonds, who under the name of poor soldiers (that are going towards their own country) demand alms, when oft times such are notorious thiefs, who in begging seek nothing more than fair occasions to commit foul thefts, murders, pillage, and the like; these men have God altogether in their mouths, and the Devil in their hearts; and yet as God did heretofore draw fire out of the mud, when Ishmael returned from the Captivity of Babylon, so from among these Bandits he retires one good thief, as you may understand by that which ensueth.  
Cyran passing thorough the streets of Tours (which appeareth as a flower in the midst of the garden of France) meets with a poor soldier, who though but meanly apparelled, yet kept still a good countenance. This soldier demanded of him an alms, with such a kind of disgraceful grace, that he found himself inwardly excited to give him one; but being extraordinarily moved, he put his hand into his pocket, and thinking to have taken thence once Sol, he lighted on a piece of five, which he with a good will gave him, and with words of honour and consolation, wisheth him a good return into his country, and a better Art than that of war, where there is ordinarily nothing to be gained but knocks: The soldier after a modest and civil manner answered, Sir God give me grace and power to do you some good service, conformable to the desire I have thereunto: you have showed me your bounty in my pinching necessity, which I never shall be unmindful of, for therein you have done little less than saved my life; after these words of Compliment they parted. Some few days, after the affairs which hindered this Poictevin at Tours, being finished, he takes his leave, and thence returns towards his Country; but as he crossed a Wood, behold there suddenly rushed out three Thiefs, whereof the one seized on the Bridle of his Horse, and another setting a sword to his throat, commanded him to alight and to follow them into the thickest of the Wood; a rude entertainment, and an imperious kind of command, yet such as must be fulfilled; most commands presupposing a necessity of obeying. When they had lead him into the most uncouth and obscure part of the Wood, they there rifled him, and took from him all the Money that he had, which amounted to the sum of one hundred Crowns, or thereabouts; and having likewise deprived him of his Cloak and best Wares, they began to deliberate whether they should kill him, or not? Let us said one of them, I know (by his language) that he is one of this Country, and therefore may raise Hue and Cry after us, and so discover us: 'Tis well said (answered another) if such men had killed him whom they stripped in such a Forest, they would not now have made so many wry mouths upon a Gibbet at poor wearied passengers. The third (who was the man to whom Cyran had some few days before given the alms of five sols:) Companions said he, what good will his life do us, his blood will cry louder against us for vengeance then his voice: we shall have a Sermon, replied one of the others, those that use the trade that we exercise, aught to stop their ears against these considerations, which are good for none but old men and children; the dead bite no more, neither do they speak a word, the voice of blood hath no eyes, and he will be well nigh rotten before any can possibly find him in this place.  
Friends (replied the good Thief) I beg of you his life, for it I will willingly forsake that part of the booty due unto me: I will tell you a very good course to spare his life, and yet to provide for our own safety; let us bind him to some tree, and so leave him unto God's protection, so we shall not be defiled with his blood. This advice was by his earnest persuasions followed, and Cyran was bound to a tree with the headstall of his horse, and his own garters, the thiefs taking away his horse and furniture; but the good Thief bowing himself toward Cyran, (as if he had been busied in tying him) said softly unto him, Friend take courage, I will come this night to unbind thee, I have not forgot thine alms; Comfortable words, but proceeding from the mouth of a Thief, therefore not greatly to be relied upon; yet he made a virtue of necessity, and that he might not seem desperately ungrateful, he thanks him for a benefit not yet received: thus he remains fast bound all the rest of that day, trusting in the mercy and providence of God, and expecting the uncertain event of the Purse-takers most certain promise: but at night he entered into the horror of death, when in the duskenesse of the evening he heard the yeelling and howling of the Wolves which were in that Forest; two of them were so bold as to approach him, but having for a time viewed him, and being somewhat distrustful of their strength they presently retired, but it was not long before they returned with greater forces. This beast is not only cruel, but also so subtle and cautelous, that even when men make curious invented Gins to catch them, yet can they very seldom take, or entrap any of them: This beast fears the stock of a Piece, he shuneth snares, he looks about him, he hearkens, considers, and narrowly observes the least motions, all which is marvellous to be found in a beast that hath not reason. Poor Cyran thinking himself to have now seen the last of his days, heartily recommended himself to God, as a man that was at the point of yielding up his Ghost; for they had long since scented him, and now at length began to assail him in troops, endeavouring to make of him a Supper for themselves: but suddenly, with most fearful yeelling, they sound a retreat, wherewith the whole Wood resounded; and the Echoes multiplying, made Cyran think that there were a whole Legion of Wolves which came to devour him: They had now perceived the approach of him whose coming poor Cyran had long expected; surely if his succours had been delayed but a very little longer, his coming had been too late; and it is likely he should have found poor Cyran dismembered by the Wolves. But God, who sendeth aid in tribulation, and whose assistance comes always opportunely, sent him at an instant (when his long expectation was turned almost into despair) to deliver Cyran not only from the fear of death, but also from the death of fear; for already had terror seized on his heart, and he thought there was no way but inevitable and present death: but behold now the extremity of one passion turned into another; Grief and Despair turned into Confidence and Joy, Cyran no sooner saw him, but he became confident of his delivery; he had na sooner conceived this latter hope, but he enjoyed his long desired liberty by this good Thief his willingly untying those knots which he had before so unwillingly knit. I leave it to you to judge, with what excessive words he testified his thankfulness to the good Thief, who had in one day given him his life twice; first from retiring him from the throat of those roaring lions the other Thiefs, and secondly from the ravening Wolves, who are Thiefs living upon prey. Cyran was desirous to make him some part of requital for this great benefit; and the better to express his desire, he offers the Soldier to use him as his brother, if he would but reside with him, and forsake that miserable kind of life, which could not but lead him to a very shameful end, and would give him so much of his estate as he should have just cause to be contented therewith. To leave this course of Robbing (replied the Soldier) is my full resolution, I have long since inwardly conceived such an earnest hatred thereof, that it continually seems an hell unto me: My intent is to become religiously penitent for those many mischiefs which I have wrought in following this accursed mystery: I never in all my life killed any man, but have been present at diverse murders, I began to Rob, being pressed thereunto by necessity; but continued in it through a kind of wicked pleasure that there is in taking, although it served but to feed our unlimited deboistness: now finding no sure place of retreat in France, where I am always in danger of the Law, I am resolved to pass into Italy, and having visited Loretto and Rome, to cast myself into some religious house; and if I cannot be there admitted, to retire myself into some Hermitage. I humbly entreat you to pray unto God for me that he may continue in me his inspiration, and give me grace to execute this good design. This poor Thief thinking that the courtesy already done unto Cyran, had not extended unto a full requital for his former Charity, laboured to persuade him to accept of his part of the hundred Crowns which was taken from him; freely offering unto him a hundred Franks. But Cyran not only refused it, but freely forgiving him, protested that if he would take the pains to accompany him to the next Town, he would enlarge his bounty towards him.  
The penitent Soldier (for I make it a matter of Conscience to call him Thief after so godly a change) either mistrusting a subtlety in the Offer, or being fully satisfied for what he had done, (refusing it) heartily thanked him, and after their mutual embracements having made a mixture of their tears: Cyran took one way, and the Soldier the other, whom he never saw after. But the two others he saw about two months after, being discovered by the Cloak and horse of Cyran, and being accused of other Robberies, fell into the hands of the Provost Martial, who justly gave them a quick dispatch, they being fastened to the Bough of an accursed tree, commonly called a Gibbet, where they never descended but by the pendant.  
The good success of Alms shines with such lustre in this Relation, that if there were no other motive to exercise liberality towards the needy, than that centuple which is in the Scripture promised in this life, it were sufficient to draw it from the hands of Covetousness itself, sithence there is no usury so excessive as to take a hundred for one: to which, if you add the infinite worth of eternal life, who will be so hide bound as not to give with a free will that NOTHING, or flitting toy of things transitory, to attain unto that great ALL, and that one necessary thing, most blessed ETERNITY.  
FINIS.