Imprinted at London by Abel jeffs, dwelling in the forestrete without Crepelgate, at the sign of the Bell. Anno. 1587.   


The Second part and Knitting up of the Book entitled Too good to be true.  
Wherein is continued the discourse of the wonderful Laws, commendable customs, & strange manners of the people of Mauqsun.  
Newly penned and published, by THOMAS LUPTON.  
AT LONDON: Printed by Henry Binneman. ANNO DOMINI. 1581. Cum Privilegio.  
Septembris 6.    

  

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, SIR WILLIAM CICILL, OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER KNIGHT, BARON OF Burghley, Lord high Treasurer of England, and one of her majesties most honourable privy Counsel.  
AS THE first Styrpe whereof we did spring (Right Honourable) was bewitched by that wily & wicked serpent: Even so the same wicked serpent hath never since ceased, to enchant and bewitch her posterity, knowing them to be her dear darlings, and sweet mouthed like their mother. For who is it that feedeth not where fancy doth favour? And what favoureth fancy, but sweet pleasant poison? That flattering fiend, was the first founder of our fond affection, and enticed EVE did spin the thread of our thraldom: but ADAM (alas) did weave up this woeful web. And hath not his peevish posterity delighted ever since to prowl for their pleasure, though it work their own woe: yea beside wicked praise and private profit to the hurt of other. And to make it more manifest, what thing hath been done from the beginning, or is now daily practised (except of a few) but only for self pleasure, wicked praise, or private profit? Examples hereof are as rare to be found, as to espy one wink that sleepeth, nothing almost hath else been esteemed, & what else at this time of us is embraced? But if we will not wilfully wink, but willingly see, the public pain such pleasures have preferred, the perilous practices such praise hath permitted, & the pitiful penury such profit hath procured: that it will make us loath that so many hath loved, cause us detest that so many have desired, & fear us to favour that thousands have followed. LUCIFER the ringleader of this dance practising for his pleasure to be higher than God did appoint him, brought himself and many thousands of Angels to endless sorrows: EVES pleasure in the forbodden apple, wrought the greatest displeasure to man that could be: DAVID'S pleasure in the beauty of a woman cost URIAS his life: the pleasure of HOLOFERNES in JUDITH, was the loss of his head, and the spoil of his army: many a guiltless child was murdered for the pleasure of HEROD: the pleasure that ACHAE had in a little vineyard, caused NABOTH be killed: NERO'S vile pleasure, made his mother be murdered, his sister deslowred, and Rome to be burned. Wicked praise likewise hath been preferred to the great grief of both godly & other: for did not PILATE to be praised of the people, save a murderer and condemn innocent Christ? did not HEROD to be praised for the keeping of his wicked promise, cause JOHN BAPTISTS head to be cut of? Did not CAMEISES to be praised in his drunkenness▪ shoot his good Counsellors child, through the heart with an arrow? Besides a great number of mischiefs wrought only for wicked praise. And hath not private profit also, to the hurt of many been esteemed, and that of such that ought chief to have abhorred it? Yes I trow: for BAALAM the Prophet of God, through greedy gain, did curse the people of God: JUDAS one of CHRIST'S Apostles, for private profit did betray CHRIST his master: what made ALEXANDER go about to conquer the whole earth, but a private commodity and a regal rule to himself? What cities have been betrayed? what countries consumed? what people spoiled and murdered, what poverty unhoused, what right perverted, what towns decayed, how many perjured, what widows wronged, what fatherless defrauded, and what poor oppressed? and all for private profit? These are the blossoms that such branches do bear, these are the floods that flow from such fountains, and these are the grapes that grow on such grafts. But if this self pleasure (which hurteth many & doth good to none) were changed into godly pleasure which helpeth other though it hinder itself: and if wicked praise, which maketh truth be oft troubled, and much wrong to be winked at, were altered into honest and godly report, which judgeth uprightly, and favoureth no falsehood: and if private profit, which undoth many to make a few rich, were turned into common commodity, that enricheth many and impoverisheth none: then many displeasured should live in quiet, many that want should then have enough, and thousands that are wronged should then have their right. Which godly change (most meet for Christians) is smally preferred, not much procured and a great deal less practised. Yet the ethnics (not knowing the gain of godly life as we do) so much did prefer the pleasures of other before their own, honest praise above other riches, and public wealth before their own profit: that it is wonderful to hear, strange to be told, and hard to be credited. CURTIUS to pleasure the Romans, in ceasing the infectious fume, left all his own pleasures, leapt into a stinking pit, and so died himself: MUTIUS SCEVOLA to profit his own City, did burn his arm stoutly with a courageous heart: ZOPIRUS to come in credit with the Babylonians his enemies, did cut off his own nose, ears, and lips, whereby being made Captain of Babylon, did after deliver the same to DARIUS his Lord & master: PHILIP king of Macedon, father to ALEXANDER the great, esteeming equity & honest praise before his own private profit, gave to a certain man, so much money out of his coffers, as by wrong undaduised judgement he gave from the same: AGESILAUS preferring the profit of his subjects (the Lacedæmonians) before his own gain, did give all king AGIS treasure among the poorest of them.  
Now seeing these Ethnics and many more, with the loss of their lives, the dismembering of themselves, and with their liberal gifts, have showed themselves by their deeds, rather Christians than Ethnics, making pleasure, praise, and profit, three virtues: then these Christians, that hurt and displease other, to pleasure and profit themselves, do show by their deeds, that they are rather Ethnics than Christians, turning pleasure, praise, and profit, into three vices, whereof there are no small number. But that pleasure, praise, and profit, were used as they ought (not as they are) I have with some pains and study fashioned and framed, not only of late a work for that purpose, called To good to be true, but also now newly compiled and finished a second part thereof. Whereby it may appear if my will were to my wish, the same three frequented vices, should be changed into three unaccustomed virtues. But seeing I can not perform it, I would feign procure it: and therefore for that I can not profit my country with my purse, as I wish: yet I mean to pleasure the same with my pen, as I may. Which Book, as it is not to be numbered among common gifts, so I do not give it as common gifts are given. For common givers appoint the receivers of their gifts, before their gifts be bought: but I have made my gift before I appointed the receiver. And whereas they choose a meet gift for their receiver: I have chosen a meet receiver for my gift. And that is your Honour: alured thereto through the common fame of your great wisdom, affability and clemency. Protesting unto you: that I have dedicated it to your Honour, not to reward me, but to know me: and not to do for me, but to think well of me. And though this gift is to simple for you to receive: yet it is the best that I am now able to give. Trusting you will not respect the workman but the work, not the penning but the meaning, and not the defect but the effect. The Method and meaning whereof, is plainly described in the Epistle of the first part: which if you have not seen already, than I beseech you at leisure to peruse the same. And if your Honour shall take in good part this my simple gift: I shall think myself better recompensed, than if I had a bountiful reward of many other. Thus ceasing any further to trouble your Honour: I wish you here a prosperous long life, and an endless life in the kingdom of Heaven.  
Your Honour's most faithful and humble to command THOMAS LUPTON.   

To the gentle Reader.  
AS many have not such recompense for their gifts as they look for (gentle Reader): even so many have not such thanks for their gifts as they deserve: And as a great sort are better rewarded for their gifts, than either they hope or deserve: So, many are never a whit rewarded therefore, clean contrary to their hope and desert: yet some (rather by luck than learning, and by chance than cunning) have been rewarded for their gifts far above their expectation, as the poor Cobbler was of the Emperor Augustus for his Crow, by an extraordinary means when all hope was passed. Which pleasant example is this: A poor Cobbler brought up a Crow with great travel and pain to make him speak these words, All hail worthy Caesar and victorious conqueror, (which was immediately after he overcame Anthoninus) which bird was so dull of learning, that he did beat her cruelly, and in beating her he said many times (when she would not talk as he taught her) All our labour and charges is lost. At last when the Crow had her lesson something perfectly, the said Cobbler understanding that the Emperor would come through the streets, waited purposely therefore, and when the Emperor came by him, the Crow by and by (having some privy warning when to tell her tale) suddenly uttered, All hail worthy Caesar and victorious conqueror: whereof the Emperor made small account, saying, I have such Saluters enough at home (for he had birds given him before that could speak the same words,) and as soon as the Emperor had said so, The Crow answered (contrary to the expectation of the Cobbler) All our labour and charges is lost. Whereat the Emperor smiling, he then gave more to the said Cobbler for that Crow, than he gave for any other bird before: though by the emperors first words he was without hope of any thing. Among which number of givers I account myself, for as the poor Cobbler had brought the Emperor a Crow not trained up without travel, to pleasure him, without hope of any reward therefore: so I have presented to you a Book, (not pend without pain) to pleasure and profit you, being utterly in despair, to be gratified therefore of every one with my wished reward, (though it be not much that I crave for the same) for though the Cobbler gave his gift for a great reward but to one: I have given this my gift for a small reward to many. (which is, good will and thanks). But if this my Book declare unto you a profitable extraordinary talk, as the Crow uttered to the Emperor a pleasant extraordinary tale: I trust you will as willingly give me great thanks for my Book, as the Emperor gave the Cobbler a rich reward for his Crow, which if you should not do, I then should be enforced, to say with the Crow, than all my travel and labour is lost. But so to say, I hope I shall not be driven, for I doubt not, but that many will therefore thank me: though some should uncortuouslie discommend me. Such as reward good gifts with depravings and detractions, are not of so good nature, as this worthy Emperor Augustus was: who on a time when a cert●ine Greek had given him a few fine verses, (hoping thereby to have some good reward) The Emperor then with his own hand, wrote very apt verses in Greek, and sent them to the said man (coming towards him) and so the Emperor gave him verses for verses. Thus such aught to learn at Augustus, to gratify their givers of Books, with writing again as good, or aswell as they can, or at least to thank them and not to detract or deride them. But as the said learned man politicly, to allure the Emperor to give him a reward, did take out of his purse a few pieces of silver, and did offer them to the Emperor for his verses that he gave him, saying: It is no reward for your estate (worthy Emperor) but if I had more, more would I give: wherewith the Emperor called his purse bearer, and commanded a thousand marks forthwith to be given him. Even so if any should do, (as many have done) write and set forth Books, for my commodity: if I could not reward them with my purse, I would (as I have done) thank them with my tongue, whereby I would learn and allure them to gratify me and such other with the like. And now for that many did well accept and thankfully take, my Book called Too good to be true, I have the rather, newly framed & published the Second part thereof, called The knitting up of Too good to be true: which I have only done, to please, pleasure, and profit many, and not to displease, displeasure, or disprofit any. Craving (most gentle Reader) nothing of you therefore, but good will for my gift, love for my labour, and thanks for my travel: which is more easy for you to give unto me, than for me to make this that I have given unto you. And thus I wish you as well as myself.  
THOMAS LUPTON.   

THE SECOND PART OF Too good to be true.  
I MUSE who this is that cometh thus speedily, if he knew how vain his coming hither were, he would not make such speed in a spéedlesse errand. But let me advise myself, unless my senses deceive me & my sight doth fail me, it is Siuqila that dwells in that famous Island Ailgna, to whom I revealed of late the marvelous manners, customs, and orders of this our country of Mauqsun. Truly, the more nearer he approacheth, the more like him he is: surely, I am out of all doubt that it is he, whom, for his prompt wit, for his learned talk, and for his godly zeal, I so favour and esteem, that I will not only tarry for his coming, but also will satisfy his desire in what I am able, whereas if it were not he, I would fly from him as speedily, as he cometh hither hastily. My friend Siuqila of all other most welcome, what wind hath thus suddenly blown you hither again?  Siuqila. 
Forsooth, as the wind of natural necessity (which is hunger and sleep) of force drove me from you sooner than I wished, so the wind of affection to hear more of your commendable customs, hath blown me hither not so soon as I would.  Omen. 
Well Siuqila, though you could not come hither so soon as you would, yet you are most heartily welcome as soon as you come. But I pray you how did you for victuals when you went from me in the deserts? thinking that hunger made you more desirous of meat, then sleep of a featherbed.  Siuqila. 
You may be right sure of that, for if hunger could find out food so soon, as sleep can prepare a bed, poor wanderers and travelers should not sleep so oft supperless. But I may say (through the great goodness of God) that I had my supper as well without cark, as I had my bed to sleep on without care.  Omen. 
The faithful man can never want food, nor the godly traveler can never lack lodging, if God be as strong as ever he was, as rich as ever he was, and as favourable to the faithful as ever he was (as he is in deed): then who will not firmly believe, but that he will provide you your supper, as well as he prepared for Daniel his dinner? But I beseech you tell me (for it was very late when you departed from me) by what good fortune got you your supper so speedily? for in that Wilderness where you went, there dwells none but wild Beasts, at whose hands you had but small entertainment, (I think) who would rather devour you than feed you.  Siuqila 
That is very like, but my faith is so firm, that God my heavenly father doth love me, and all other his obedient children so dearly, that rather than we should perish for want of food, he will make these wild and cruel Beasts, to bring us our suppers, that use to devour and eat the wicked for their suppers. For as the Bears did devour the wicked children that mocked the godly Eliseus: even so the Ravens did feed the godly Elias.  Omen. 
Surely Siuqila, I must needs affirm this, that rather than you and the godly should lack food, GOD would send you meat from heaven, and drink out of the hard rocks or stones. For if he did so to the wicked jews, that did murmur and disobey him: how much more will he do so to you, that are patient, godly, and do obey him? But now forget not to tell me, of your good luck in getting your supper in the Wilderness so happily.  Siuqila. 
Nay rather by God's good providence so mercifully: truly it is a very vain thing, and far unmeet to be used among Christians, 
An unmeet thing for Christians.  to apply that to Fortune which the Heathen took for a blind God, which only is to be attributed to the living and eternal GOD, the maker of Heaven and Earth. Theramines did attribute his wonderful escaping from death, when all his cowivants were killed with the fall of the house, where they were with him, but only himself, who though he should have thanked God for miraculously saving of his life, he applied it to blind Fortune, which neither did nor could save his life, 
The foolish saying of Theramines.  crying out aloud on this manner: O Fortuna cui occasioni me seruas? O Fortune for what purpose dost thou keep me alive? Such was his blindness that served such a blind God: for though his wonderful and miraculous escaping from death, contrary to all hope and expectation, should have driven him to the knowledge of God, and to the amendment of his wicked and tyrannical life: he like a brute beast had no such consideration, but thereupon took an occasion to think that his blind God Fortune had preserved him to work some greater wickedness, cruelty and tyranny than he had done before. These are the Berries that such Brambles do bear, and this is the goodness that comes from such Gods. But seeing you are desirous to know how I did for meat in the wild Wilderness, I will show you. You know that when I went from you it was almost supper time, especially for him that had not then dined: but as soon as I was departed from you, I was so troubled with two sudden suitors, that their bawling and calling on me did no less weary me, than my painful and fast traveling in the Wilderness did tire me.  Omen. 
I marvel that you should be troubled with suitors in the Wilderness, for you may go twenty days there still forward, before you shall see either man, woman, or child. But if you had any such suitors, rather than they should have troubled me, I would have dispatched them and sent them packing.  Siuqila. 
Yea, but what if you could not grant them their requests?  Omen. 
Then I would have sent them away without, even as they came. Me thinks they were unshamefast suitors that would not be answered with reason.  Siuqila. 
Truly, they were so importunate, that they would have no nay.  Omen. 
But tell me one thing: Were their requests such, that you were able to grant?  Siuqila. 
The one of them I could have granted very easily, but the other very hardly.  Omen. 
Then would I have satisfied him with the easier suit presently, and the other when I might at leisure and at time convenient.  Siuqila. 
I but the granting of the one would have been a hindrance to the other.  Omen. 
Would it so? then I would have desired them to departed gently, if not, I would have made them go away by extremity.  Siuqila. 
Truly, they were such strong and importunate suitors, that neither gentleness could entreat them, reason persuade them, nor force could fear them: and to say truth, they did so hold me and gripe me, that with all the strength I had, I was not able to fling them from me.  Omen. 
They were very strange suitors, I think very long until I hear who they were.  Siuqila. 
Seeing you are so desirous, you shall know. Forsooth, the one of these suitors was mine Eyes, the other was my Stomach.  Omen. 
Are these the Suitors you meant off? you are a pleasant man, They are such Suitors in deed that must not be denied, and to say truth, whom you are loath to deny.  Siuqila. 
If I deny them, it is because I am not able to grant them, they cannot so soon demand, but I am as willing to perform, especially if it lie in my power.  Omen. 
I believe you right well. If Princes, Rulers, judges and other (that are able) were as desirous to grant poor Suitors their needful and reasonable requests, as you are willing (yea when you are scant able) to perform these your Suitors demands, than many poor Suitors should not sue so long in vain as they do, nor yet go home without penny or purpose. But I pray you what did these your importunate Suitors desire of you?  Siuqila. 
Forsooth mine eyes desired me to go to bed, and my stomach earnestly required me to go to supper.  Omen. 
The time and place considered, I think you were more able to perform the request of your Eyes, then to grant the request of your Stomach.  Siuqila. 
Be bold of that, yet each of them did plead their case so reasonably, and defended the cause so cunningly, that I could not well tell to whom I might incline. Mine Eyes requested me most earnestly to lay me down to sleep, saying, though you have no trim chamber to lie in, be content with the ground which your first father Adam was content to take for his couch: And though here be no house nor roof to defend you from cold, yet the Air is here so temperate, that you can feel no cold: and yet your lodging is not without a trim & goodly roof, 
A sure roof.  which is the heavens of Gods own making, which you are sure will not fall down and hurt you, though the roofs made by men might fall down and kill you. And as for a feather bed care not, for here is grass and moss whereon in this your necessity, you will sleep as sound, 
A preaty pleading.  as though you had the best bed in the world. And then my Stomach said: Sir, I beseech you consider, as it is meet to grant sleep to your Eyes, so it is more meet to allow meat for your Stomach, which of us two you may best spare, let him be last served. You may live if you had no Eyes, but you must needs perish if you had no Stomach: & you may well live though you have Eyes and see not, but you must needs die though you have a Stomach and feed not. And as your Eyes persuadeth you to be content with the grass and moss for your bed, so in this great necessity it is very simple food that will not satisfy me, and be pleasant unto you. Then the Eyes replied again: My lids are so heavy that I cannot keep them open, and you see it beginneth to be dark, whereby I can stand you in small stead, for if I were as willing to wake, as I am desirous to wink, you should be sure to wander wrong: therefore you were better here to sleep quietly, then to wander you wots not whether dangerously, marry if you were as sure to get some food for your Stomach, by traveling in the dark, as you are sure to get a sweet nap, by lying here in the dark, I would not so earnestly persuade you. Then my stomach answered: Sir, weigh not these words, if you grant them sleep, than I shall lack my Supper, and be a great while without meat: but if I have my supper, your eyes shall not be long without sleep, nay thereby they shall be sure to have the more sleep. Then said the Eyes very vehemently, the humyditie of your brain is so much, that unless it be exhausted by sleep, I shall never be able to hold them open to direct you in your way. Then said the Stomach, credit not your eyes herein, for I have been so long empty, that the brain can have no such humidity, for the fume that ascends from the Stomach, doth make the brain moist, now if the Stomach want food, whereof the fume doth grow, then how can there be any such fume, to breed such moisture of the brain, and so your brain hath no such abundance of moisture, as your Eyes do allege, therefore I your Stomach have much more need of meat, than your eyes of sleep, nay rather take heed of too much sleep, for by sleeping the heat is thereby brought from all the external parts, to the internal parts, whereby the heat being marvelously increased, will quickly consume the little moisture within you, and so the radical moisture will be in danger to be extinct, and then farewell life: and thus if you grant sleep to your Eyes, you may hap to bring death to yourself. Then the Eyes said, I pray you regard not his words, they are but fables, many would feign sleep if they might, but you will not sleep when you may, remember I beseech you, that many have run mad for want of sleep: then my Stomach answered again quickly, but a great sort 〈◊〉 have died for want of food. Then my Eyes said to me very mourninglye, if ever you will have me to guide you, then grant me some sleep: and then the Stomach most dolefully said, if ever you will have me to feed and nourish your body, get me some meat. Then my Eyes said, of conscience it is now time to sleep, for it is almost midnight: then my Stomach answered, midnight is not to late for him to Swipe, that hath neither eat nor drunk of three or four days. And thus I was so troubled with these two earnest suitors, that I could not well tell to whom it was best to yield, but weighing with myself the great danger I was in, for want of food, I fully consented to my Stomach: and though it was very dark, whereby my eyes could do me no great pleasure, yet God did presently help me, to whom I prayed to secure me, for immediately my foot did happen into a hole, wherein I found young Rabbits, which I prepared as well as I could, and so I played the Cook, and roasted them for my Supper.  Omen. 
But I pray you, how did you for fire to roast them withal?  Siuqila. 
Truly fire was more easy to get than meat, and drink was more easy to get than fire: but bread to eat my Supper withal, was the hardest to come by of all: for it was impossible to have any in the Wilderness, unless GOD had sent it from heaven, as he rained Manna for the children of Israel. So that I was feign to eat my Supper without bread, and yet I thought, I never fared better in all my life.  Omen. 
Yea but if you had had bread, you would not have liked your cheer the worse.  Siuqila. 
No that is true, but I had such a pleasant sauce to my Supper, that I never tarried for bread, nor yet scantly remembered it.  Omen. 
Was your sauce so dainty and pleasant?  Siuqila 
Nay it was more pleasant than dainty, for I seldom eat any meat without that sauce, especially since I came out of my own Country.  Omen. 
May I be so bold to learn of you what sauce it was?  Siuqila. 
Forsooth the name of the sauce, is called hunger, a great deal better than vinegar, which made every bit of my breadlesse supper more pleasant unto me, than the most costly and delicate banquets, with all their sumptuous sauces, are to any Prince on the earth.  Omen. 
Marry sir, 
Hunger is the best sauce of all other.  that is the most pleasant sauce of all other, it is the most delicate sauce for meat, and easiest to get, and of most virtue, and of least cost, none in our Country of Mauqsun on pain of death may use any other kind of sauce but that: if they in your Country would give over all sauces, and use that sauce only, their bodies would not be so full of diseases, 
Mark this.  nor their purses so empty of money, but how did you for drink to your meat?  Siuqila. 
For want of wine I was glad to drink water, whereof I had plenty, for there was a goodly river did run, not far from the place where I supped. Truly sir since my departing from you, God so wonderfully and suddenly aided me in my necessity by his creatures, that thereby I was not only enforced to praise God therefore, but also to muse and study of his miraculous works: whereby in few words I have covertly couched three marvelous mysteries, that few I think is able to resolve, yet so true and so plain, that if I should reveal the meaning thereof, that none but would affirm the same.  Omen 
Then you need not fear to utter the words wherein is hid your mystical meaning, yet though they be never so dark, I believe I shall guess shrewdly at them.  Siuqila. 
Nay I am sure you will quickly find out there meaning, which if you could not, I would reveal them unto you.  Omen. 
Declare them I pray you, for I am desirous to hear them.  Siuqila. 
I will utter them in course as I had occasion to frame them, therefore the first of them is this.  
The foe doth aid and help his extreme foe, 
A strange Problem.   
Else foe at all no power or strength could show:  
Which foe so helped yet none can feel or spy,  
That he hath shape, but only quality.  Omen. 
Surely, this is both covertly hid, wisely invented, & wittily framed, if every one that have an over weening in their own wits, and discommendeth other that are wiser than themselves, that cannot resolve this, or that cannot invent the like, should give but the half of that they spend in waste, to the relieving or succouring of their poor neighbours, many would not be so hungry nor so needy as they are. I understand your meaning therein very well, it is marvelous, and I may say miraculous, though daily sight and common practice taketh away the admiration thereof. But what drove you to devise it?  Siuqila. 
Forsooth I will tell you, as I traveled in the wild wilderness, being very hungry, through the goodness of God, I found a few eggs, but what eggs they were, I know not (yet they were very like the eggs of a Turkey Hen) which, when I had found, I was very desirous to roast, or to seethe for my dinner, which there by no means I could do, for there was neither wood, nor any other thing whereon to make a fire. And though I was extreme hungry, yet I was very loath to eat them raw: but as I walked forward, thorough God's providence, I spied a little shed, wherein I found quick● lime unquenched, whereof I was not a little glad, for therein I knew that I might roast my eggs (having water) of which lime stones I took a good quantity, and carried them to a waters side that was not far from thence, which stones I sprinkled with water, and then they waxed very hot, as daily practice doth prove: amongst which lime stones I laid my eggs, which were well roasted, and that very quickly, through the great heat of the said limestones, which the water that I sprinkled on them caused them to have: and thus by this marvelous means, I roasted the eggs, wherewith I dined very well. Thus you may plainly perceive, that the foe did aid and help his extreme foe, for Water is an utter enemy to Fire, for they are of clean contrary qualities: for Fire is hot and dry, and Water is cold and moist, yet Fire could not show his force or strength which lay hid in the said lime stones, until Water, which was his enemy, was cast upon him, yet though thereby he showed forth his heat, which is the quality of fire: yet the brightness, shape, or form of fire, by no means thereby could be seen.  Omen. 
It is most true, which is the wonderful work of God, yet many thousands are so brutish, so senseless, so doltish, and so thankless for these Gods miraculous benefits; even made for their daily use and commodity, that they neither consider the great power of God that did make them, the marvelous mysteries hid in them, nor the great commodity they have daily by them. You that have this consideration in the works of God, it is a token you have a great consolation in God himself that made the works. Your first Problem is so pretty and pithy, that I desire to hear the second.  Siuqila 
You shall, and that with speed, this it is, which is more true than reasonable.  
The stronger is led by force of the weaker: 
Another Problem.   
Although of his bones he hath been a breaker.  Omen. 
Truly this is very strange, and seems so repugnant to reason, that many that are both wise and learned, will judge at the first hearing of the words, that it cannot be truly applied to any thing. But by what occasion did you frame it?  Siuqila. 
As I traveled in the deserts, I could find no perfect way, where the thorne● & brambles were so thick, that I was enforced very painfully to go through them, which did so rend & tear● my clothes, that I was constrained to sow them as well as I could (for I seldom go without needle & shreed) and whiles I was busy in sowing the same I suddenly lost my needle, for which I was very sorry (for I had ●o more, but only a broken needle that lacked a point, wherewith I could not sow at all) so that I left my thread in the same place, & went to seek a stone whereon to sharp my blunt needle: and as I was very diligent in seeking a stone for my purpose, I found a very hard & heavy stone, not of the colour of other common stones, which I took, and then went and sit in the same place wh●re I loss my needle: then I began to rub and whet my broken needle upon it, but for all my labour I could not therewith so sharpen it, that it would do●e any good. So that I laid the said needle and stone by me on the ground, being weary with rubbing the said blunt or broken needle on the same. Yet being driven to a great necessity, and thinking at length with labour so to sharpen the said broken needle on the stone that I found, that it might serve my turn: I took up the said stone, whereon (to my great marvel) not only the broken needle, but also the needle which before I had lost, did hang, cleave, or stick, which when I saw, I knew that stone was an Adamant stone, whereby I did as well give God thanks for his great goodness in sending me such a mean to find my needful needle: as also did find out and invent the said dark and true Problem thereof.  Omen. 
As before you revealed your practice & event, it seemed very dark and false, so now since it is very plain and true. For though by the strength of iron the Adamant stone may be broken, whereby he justly may be called the stronger, and the Adamant the weaker: yet the Adamant stone (being the weaker) by his nature draweth iron the stronger unto him, as daily experience doth teach. Now I pray you let me hear the third.  Siuqila. 
You shall, which if you mark well, is as strange, and true as the rest.  
A thing there is that hunger can not kill, 
Another fine Problem.   
Although a thousand years it sleepeth still:  
But once awaked it must feed by and by,  
And still must eat, it dieth else presently.  Omen. 
If it be as true as it is strange, then is it well worthy to be noted. If every one of your country that of them selves can not find out the true meaning of it in a month, should fast but a week, or else bestow their one years vain and prodigal expenses, on such godly purposes as you could devise and appoint: then many should have their right, that now are much wronged, many that want should then have enough, many that go pecorkly, should th●n go derently, many that live riotously, should then live moderately, and many that die shortly by surffeting, should live long with temperate feeding. Surely it is a very strange thing that can sleep so long and never eat, and when he is once awaked, 〈…〉 or else die. If it be not very needful, and also such a thing 〈◊〉 can be spared, it were a great deal better, and more profit to let him sleep still, than to awake him out of his sleep: For he must needs be a very costly fellow to keep, that must be always a feeding. If he never stint eating, I think than he will out eat his gains, as many loitering lubbers that spend more with their mouths, than they get with their hands. But now show the occasion that caused you to devise it.  Siuqila. 
I will not let to do that. As I was traveling in the wild wilderness (being very hungry) I suddenly espied a nest of young Birds which were almost ready to fly.  Omen. 
But how did you for fire to roast them, for fire is there hard to get?  Siuqila. 
Nay, as I used the matter, it was harder to find food than to get fire. I never go without a tinder box, (especially when I travel far,) wherein I have a flint stone, a steel, & burned lint with matches: so that when I had dressed my Birds, I struck fire out of the flint stone with my Steel, the sparks whereof falling into the burned lint, did take hold of the same, and then I did therein light a match, dipped in brimstone, whereby having wood there enough at hand, I made a fire, and so I roasted the Birds, and fed my hungry maw therewith: and a●ter I had given God thanks for thus feeding me, I fell into a great admiration of this marvelous work of God, and considered how strange a thing it was, that Fire the most hottest Element of all other, should be included in earth being a cold Element. And further, in this deep cogitation I considered, 
A thing to be considered.  that God had as great a respect to the poor as to the rich, for Fire is such a thing, that no man alive may want: and God of his infinite goodness hath so ordered the matter, that the rich can not defraud the poor of fire (that are at liberty) for in every little flint stone, it is to be found, yea and there is enough in one little stone, for a whole Realm, which is a wonderful simile in the deepest Philosophy that is.  Omen. 
This is such a wonderful work of God, and so necessary for all men, that thousands, that daily see the same, and have daily a marvelous commodity thereby, do neither thank God therefore, nor once consider gods miraculous work therein. And as God hath dealt with the poor for fire, so he hath done with all the other three Elements, 
Ma●ke well.  for the rich cannot defraud the poor of them, nor the envious person cannot take them from his foe, as long as they be at liberty, for they are every where to be had: well may the rich lock the poor from them, but they cannot lock them from the poor: for as fire is common every where, and is to be found in every flint stone: so the air which is the next Element to fire, is in every place, and is common both to man and beast. And the water is so abundant both in Rivers and Springs every where, that the rich cannot waste it, the poor cannot consume it, nor all the beasts on the earth can devour it. And as for the earth it is the only flower for all men and beasts to tread on, so that in this point (though it be little regarded) God is not only highly to be thanked, but also to be marvelously magnified, that he hath so lovingly and mercifully placed and distributed these his Elements, which is, fire, air, water, and earth, (without which we cannot live) that the mightiest Emperor on the Earth, nor the cruelest tyrant under the sun, cannot keep, nor lock any one of them from the poorest wretch in the world, well they may lock him from them as is said, but they cannot lock them from him.  Siuqila. 
Oh if we would consider these gods great gifts that he most liberally hath bestowed on the poor, 
A marvelous immediating alliance.  aswell as on the rich, we should love him better than we do: but mark what a marvelous knitting or combination, yea & immediating alliance, one element hath with another in quality: fire is hot and dry: he is hot of the nature of the air which is under him, and dry, of the nature of the earth, which is the extremest from him: Air is hot and moist, hot of the quality of fire next above him, and moist of the quality of water next under him: water is cold & moist, moist of the nature of air next above him, & cold of the nature of earth, which is next under him: & earth is cold & dry, cold of the nature of water that is next above him, & dry of the nature of fire, which is next in order to him: And herein is great mysteries to be considered according to philosophy.  Omen. 
God is marvelous, as well in these as in all other his works, in numero, pondere, & mensura omnia fecit deus: now I see by the striking of the fire out of the flint stone, you framed finely this pithy problem.  
A thing there is that hunger cannot kill,  
Although a thousand years it sleepeth still▪  
But once awaked it must feed by and by,  
And still must eat, it dieth else presently.  
In deed it is manifest that there is fire, and that great store, in every flint stone, which will lie lurking there, longer than you speak of, and never die for want of food: but if you once awake him out of his sleep, & fetch him out of his bed, you must give him meat immediately, & so you must feed him continually night & day, either with tallow, wax, wood, coals, straw, or some other thing that he can eat, or else he will die by & by, for farewell fire when his food doth fail. This is so plain and so true, that none that lives on the earth, that have any discretion, but knows it. Before you revealed the cause whereupon you devised it, it seemed very dark & a thing impossible, but now it is very plain, & as a thing most palpable: if every one in their journeys at their meat & beds, had such cogitations & considerations of God's goodness, & benefits offered before their eyes, as you have in your journeys, at your meat or your bed: so many drifts would not be devised, to defraud the widow & fatherless, nor such shifts would not be invented, to shove the poor from their right. Truly I am of this judgement, that you can see nothing on the earth, but that you may gather thereby, to praise god, to magnify god, & to love god. But now Siuqila me thought you said, even now since you came, that the cause of this your now coming hither, was to hear more of the customs of this our Country of Mauqsun.  S. 
I said so indeed, & that is only the cause of my returning so soon.  O. 
Yea but did you not say to me, when you departed hence, that you were fully satisfied, & that you had no more to ask me.  Siuqila. 
I remember I said so, & to say truth, long talk did so tire me, hunger did so assail me, sleep did so oppress me, & my memory did so fail me, that I could tarry no longer, and if I had tarried, I could not devise what more to say to you: but since I 〈◊〉 my stomach with meat, & my eyes with sleep, me thinks I am as ready to inquire of the manners of your people, & the orders of your country, as ever I was, my head is fraught so full of new questions, that I fear I shall weary you before I have half done, beseeching you this once to satisfy me, for I will never trouble you hereafter, which I could not well do if I would, for if I were now at home, I should never be able to go so far again.  Omen. 
Well Siuqila for the good will I bear you, I will satisfy your mind in any thing you demand of me, therefore be bold to ask what you will, for I will resolve you in all that I may.  Siuqila. 
Then if I may be so bold to ask you, have your temporal Gentlemen any spiritual livings?  Omen. 
No truly, 
The gentlemen in Mavosun have no spiritual livings.  neither our spiritual men have any temporal livings: our gentlemen & all other of the temporalty are so godly minded, that they would not if they might, have any spiritual living in their hands: nay they had rather increase the preacher or Parson's living, if the preachers or Parsons have to little for their godly & necessary maintenance (as with us daily practice proveth) for in little & small parishes, where the incumbents living is so small that he is not able to relieve his poor neighbours: the gentlemen, or the richest of the parish, will give for ever to remain to the said living vj. or x. acres of ground, & some will give a little close or a pasture, some an acre or two of meadow to the enlarging of their said living, other will give yearly some corn, others a load or two of wood, & so some will give one thing some another, according to their ability: for they think it is a small matter to give temporal things to them, that bestows spiritual gifts on them, according to the meaning of S. Paul So that the least spiritual living with us, is both sufficient to maintain the Parson, and to relieve the poor.  Siuqila. 
They did so with us in the time of blindness, but they rather pluck from than, now in the time of light & knowledge. I see well there is a great difference, between the use of our country & yours, for many gentlemen & other with us, have such broad consciences, that they would if they might, have the whole or principal commodity of xx. benefices, not caring (but for shame of the world) whether there were any pastor or curate to teach the people or not.  Omen. 
Me thinks there should be none such with you.  Siuqila. 
Nay you may say there ought to be none such with us, but I am most sure that there are many gentlemen and other with us, that the chief living they have is by tithes & other spiritual commodities.  Omen. 
Why are they suffered so to do?  Siuqila. 
Our laws do permit now many of them therein: for it is most commonly now of such spiritual livings & parsonages as were belonging to Abbeys before they were suppressed, whereof the Abbots or priors had before (not of a godly consideration but of a covetous & greedy desire) plucked away by force from the said spiritual livings.  Omen. 
The precious Prelates gave a good presidente to Princes, who might well think, that it was as lawful for them to keep these personages still in their hands, as these holy fathers to take them out of the parson's hands. But I pray you sir, when they had spoiled the Church of the fattest of their living, whom did they then leave there to instruct the people?  Siuqila. 
Forsooth some sir Laurence Lattynles▪ sir Cutbért Careless, or sir Simon Shameless, that cared more for pampering their paunch, than for feeding the flock, that had rather be tippling at the alehouse, than to sit at his book, & that had greater skill in playing at Tables, than in preaching gods word. And these chosen Chaplains were called Vicars, and the Abbots or priors were called the Parsons.  Omen. 
It seemeth by this your talk, that the Parsons with you have best part of the benefice, & take the least pain: & the vicar hath the least profit, and the most trouble: whereby it appeareth that your parsons are above the vicar's & have the greater livings.  Siuqila. 
It is so in deed.  Omen. 
If this be true, it will not fall very well out, for there seemeth a great repugnancy herein.  Siuqila. 
Why so I pray you?  Omen. 
Because the Pope, as I do understand (who hath been esteemed as a Lord on the earth) is (as he saith) Christ's vicar, which being so, then Christ must needs be be his Parson, and therefore in the Pope's vicarage Christ ought to have a parsonage: And so, if the Pope's vicarage be great, large, and rich, than I doubt not but that Christ's Parsonage is as great and large, and also by reason ought to be as rich or rather richer. Well, what yearly gain, profit, and commodity Christ hath had out of this his great parsonage I know not, but the wonderful profits, commodities, and the yearly treasures, that the Pope hath had by this vicarage I know. For the great yearly rents for his possessions belonging to the same (though he came falsely and deceitfully by them) the marvelous Masses of money for Pardons, both for murders, fornications, and all other offences, the great coffers of coin for helping rich men's souls out of Purgatory, (for the poor must lie there still for want of money, which showeth he is a charitable vicar) such heaps of treasure for licensing Priests to keep Concubines and Harlots, (but in no wise to marry) such yearly revenues called peterpence (though Peter never had any such) the innumerable sums of silver and gold for allowing and admitting of Bishops, Abbots and Priors, with many other, into spiritual livings, whereof many were more meet to be Butchers than bishops, Alecunners than Abbots, & peddlers than Priors: And also the great heaps of gold he hath got for restoring Emperors and Kings into their dignities again, that he deposed for his pleasure, have been such, 
The Pope's Vicarage passeth Christ's Parsonage.  that I am sure Christ had never the tenth part so much out of his parsonage. And therefore it doth plainly appear by this (whatsoever the Parsonages are with you) that the Pope's vicarage far passeth, for dignity, wealth and riches, Christ's Parsonage.  Siuqila. 
Belike the Pope hath taken the Parsonage of Christ in farm.  Omen. 
If he have, yet he must be Christ's tenant, and so of force, Christ must be his Landlord, but who hath ever heard or known, that the Pope hath paid Christ his landlord any rent, or once made him any account for any of these wondered, huge & inestimable profits & treasures that he hath thus received since he was his tenant. 
The Pope an evil tenant to Christ.  Truly Christ could not have had (in my judgement) a worse tenant than that Pope, for that he hath not paid him all this while any rent, for the farming of his Parsonage. If Christ had not been able to have lived of himself: thus he would have served him. But truly I cannot think, that Christ hath any such Parsonage or spiritual promotion, whereunto any such rich vicarage should be incident as the Pope hath: for when Christ was here on earth, if he had them a Parsonage, it was no such as was correspondent to the Pope's vicarage, for, if it had been but the hundredth part so profitable, so commodious, & so great as the Pope's vicarage, he should not then have needed to be so poor, nor his Apostles so beggarly. But it is very well known, that if Christ were then a Parson, his Parsonage was so small, that it was not able to maintain a vicar, especially such a sumptuous vicar as the Pope is. And moreover, if Christ had then any Parsonage, I am sure it was not at Rome: For, if he had been a Parson, he was so godly, so humble, so virtuous, and so desirous to feed his flock, that I am sure he would have gone to his Parsonage and charge, and would have preached among his parishioners and flock: and therefore because he went not thither to preach among them, he was none of their Parson, neither had he any parsonage there, for he was not like many of your Parsons, that would have livings and be non-residents, 
Note this.  or never come there. Therefore, seeing he had no Parsonage at Rome, the vicarage that belongeth to his Parsonage cannot be at Rome, and so the Pope having his vicarage at Rome, cannot be Christ's vicar. And seeing he is not Christ's vicar, I know not whose vicar he should be, unless he be the devils vicar: for I am sure he thinks scorn to be a vicar to any mean Parson, for that he hath borne rule above Emperors & Kings, that have kissed his feet, holden his stirrup, led his horse, & have lain groveling, whiles he hath trodden on their neck.  Siuqila. 
You have proved very well, that Christ had no Parsonage at Rome, therefore the Pope having the chief place of his vicarage at Rome, can in no wise be Christ's vicar, for the Parsonage & vicarage must needs be both in one place.  Omen. 
The Pope did wilily when he chose himself vicar under such a parson as Christ is, for thereby he knew, that he should not only come in great credit as he hath done: but also was sure, that the Parson of the benefice dwelled so far from him, that he would neither come to receive his tithes, neither yet control the vicar whatsoever he did, so that thereby he is both Parson, vicar, and all: but yet the Pope being called Sanctissimus (which is most holy) must needs have such a good conscience (having such a great living under his said parson) that I doubt not but he hath & doth daily give a great deal thereof to the poor friends of Christ his Parson: and so Christ is as well pleased, as though he had bestowed it on himself, for he saith, whatsoever you give to the poor, that give you to me.  Siuqila. 
If the Pope did so, it were well, but I am sure, that he doth the contrary, for a marvelous deal of this his wonderful treasure, he most vainly, voluptuously, & wickedly consumeth on himself & his train: & no small part thereof he spendeth on the mortal enemies of Christ his parson: & a huge deal thereof he consumeth, & the most willingly to trouble, vex, impoverish, hurt, murder, & kill the very friends of Christ his Parson.  Omen. 
If this be true that you say, it is one of the greatest arguments that can be, that the Pope is none of Christ's vicar: for hereby it appeareth, that the Pope is Christ's utter enemy, for he that loveth Christ's enemies, & hateth Christ's friends, must needs hate Christ: & he that hateth Christ, cannot be Christ's friend, therefore he must needs be his enemy: whereby it seemeth, that Christ was marvelously overéene, if he chose his enemy to be his vicar: but because we are most sure, that Christ cannot be overseen, therefore he hath not chosen the Pope to be his vicar: and so the Pope must needs hold his vicarage by usurpation, and not by any good title.  Siuqila. 
He may usurp a while, but Christ will bring him to an account one day, for intruding himself into Christ's vicarage. Well, we have been so long in hand with this holy and rich vicar the Pope, that we have forgot the poor Parsons and Vicars of our country.  Omen. 
I thought none but your Vicars and Curates had had simple and bare livings, but because you named them even now poor Parsons, therefore it is like they have poor Parsonages: have your Parsonages such small profits and commodities belonging to them, that the Parsons thereof are not able honestly and decently to find themselves and to secure their poor Parishioners?  Siuqila. 
There are few or no Parsonages with us, but that have sufficient profits and commodities belonging unto them: But such greedy and covetous patrons are the givers of many of them, 
Covetous Patrons.  that they will be sure, that they to whom they give them, shall yield them yearly one fleece out of them: Some of them will have half at the least, some I fear have more, though some have less, or else they will have some round sum of money ere they will grant or present them.  Omen. 
Such buyers and sellers of Benefices do not well know what they do.  Siuqila. 
Though you think they know not what they do, I am right sure they care not what they do, the danger thereof is not yet, but hereafter: which before was sufficiently debated between us.  Omen. 
But I pray you sir, are these Benefice buyers learned or not?  Siuqila. 
Forsooth some of them are more learned than many, but not so godly as a great sort.  Omen. 
No, for if they were, they would not come in by the window: but if one should call them by their right name, they would be angry: yet Christ that cannot lie, saith they are very thieves: and what thieves are worthy to have, I report me to true men. thieves may escape a while, but yet most commonly they are hanged at the last: 
Note this,  even so these Spiritual thieves, meaning as well the temporal that sell, as the spiritual that do buy, unless they leave their théevery, and repent unfeignedly, will be hanged in hell.  Siuqila. 
That is the worse hanging of the two, one were better to be hanged at Tyburn twice, than in Hell once.  Omen. 
Me thinks they that have learning and knowledge, should rather refuse livings than to have them on that sort.  Siuqila. 
Yea but if the learned be covetous, what then? is not Covetousness able to drive one faster to mischief, than Learning is able to pluck him back? what is Learning without the fear of God? no more than a fine wit in a common drunkard. 
Too true,  If the spiritual man be greedy of living, and the Temporal man as covetous of money: the one will think it no more sin to give, than the other think it an offence to take: So that, if these two do meet together, the bargain will not be long a making. But I know some that are godly learned, and fear God so much, that will rather beg their bread, than buy a Benefice.  Omen. 
But how doth the greedy Patron then, when such godly men will not yield to his request? for he can not occupy the Parsonage himself.  Siuqila. 
Tush, he careth not for that, he knoweth, if one will not, an other will: he will find one that hath little learning and less honesty, for want of living, that will be content that the Patron shall have the best part out of it, thinking himself happy if he have twenty marks or twenty pounds yearly, though the Benefice be worth a hundredth pounds by year, seeing he had nothing to live on before. And I warrant you the Patron will have him surely bound for bursting to enjoy the same, and but a few shall know thereof. He that hath his wares to sell in a fair, 
Note.  cannot lightly want a chapman. Where there are more sellers than buyers, wares will be there cheap, but where there are more buyers than sellers, wares there will be dear. Therefore Parsonages and Benefices are very dear with us, for that there are more Parsons for Parsonages, than Parsonages for Parsons.  Omen. 
Yea, perhaps more evil Parsons than Parsonages: but I believe there are more Parsonages than good Parsons.  Siuqila. 
That is most true, for if there were as many good Parsons, as there be Parsonages, than many would not have so many benefices as they have.  Omen. 
What? is there any with you that have any more benefices than one?  Siuqila. 
Yea that there be a great-sorte, some have two, some have three, some have four, yea, some have had five or six at the least, I am ashamed to go any further.  Omen. 
It is very strange that you tell, truly our Preachers with us have but one benefice, & yet they think that one such a great charge & heavy burden, that they are scant able to bear it.  Siuqila. 
And contrary, many of our Parsons are so lusty & strong that they think two or three benefices is but a small burden: 
Strong Parsons.  I think in my conscience, that if some with us had half a score benefices on their backs, they would not say they were fully loaden, but would call for more if they might have them.  Omen. 
Such (I fear) set their own souls to sale, & all the souls of their seely poor flock. Your parsons are or should be, watchmen, whereof the Prophet Ezechiel speaketh: & is it possible for a man to watch in more places than one at once? one is not thought sufficient to watch a castle in the time of war, therefore half a dozen or more are appointed to watch: Now, 
A good argument.  if so many are but sufficient to watch an earthly castle, & that against worldly enemies, whom they may see: than one can be no more but sufficient to watch a spiritual tower against our enemy the devil, whom we cannot see. And seeing that one can be but sufficient to be a spiritual watchman in one place or parsonage: them one cannot be sufficient to be a spiritual watchman of 2. or .3. places or Parsonages, much less of 5. or 6. parsonages or more, specially, where there is 20▪ 40. 60. 80. or 100 miles, between one Parsonage and another.  Siuqila. 
He that can descry all the dangers that may happen to all these places at once, & also can then presently tell all the people that dwell there of the same, his sight is a great deal better than mine, & he hath a louder voice than I have by a great deal. Christ had as good watchmen (which were his Apostles) as any had I believe: yet they never charged or burdened themselves with so many sundry places for living, though they were as able to discharge them, as our parsons that have 3. or 4. benefices: but they were of an other mind than the most of our Parsons are, for they had great care of many, and gain of none, and these our Parsons have gain of many, and care of few.  Omen. 
Yea but I think your Parsons do go often to their Parsonages, and do preach to their parishioners.  Siuqila 
Some do, & some do not, some of them fetch 30. or 40. ● & give them a sermon, & then away they go, & perhaps they shall see them no more of two or three years: marry they shall be sure to hear from them once or twice a year, when they send for their profits. And some do seldom or never come to some of their benefices, but they will be sure to send yearly for their profits. I heard one once say, that they had a good quiet Parson, he did never trouble them, 
A meet Parson  they knew him not, for they never saw him, & yet he had been their Parson 20. years at the least.  Omen. 
Such are pope-like parsons, for they feed their flock neither bodily nor ghostly, because they will be sure they will not fulfil the meaning of Christ in feeding his sheep: & therefore they do not love Christ: but at the last & terrible day of judgement, if Christ shall hate & reject them, because they loved him not, & then sand them into hell fire to burn in torments for ever, them they will find that these are dear benefires, & that it had been better to have fed their flock than to have famished their flock, & will wish then, rather to have preached to their parishioners without profits, than to have profits of them without preaching: but then it will be too late to will or wish.  Siuqila. 
Many of our parsons feed their flock a little better: for perhaps they will lie at their benefices 2. or 3. months, and at an other as long, and thus they will be sure to feed them all.  Omen. 
Yea, but not all at once.  Siuqila. 
I do not say so.  Omen. 
But who shall preach to the rest of his flock in his absence?  Siuqila. 
He fed them so well before, that they may farrye a while: he will feed them when he cometh to them again, which perhaps will be within half a year, or a twelvemonth.  Omen. 
The Parson will feed his own belly oftener I warrant him, for he will be sure to eat once or twice every day at the least: for he knoweth full well, that if his body should be without food but two or three days, it would be in danger of famishing: Then, can the Parson think that the souls of his flock can be half a year or a twelumoneth without food, and not in danger of perishing? If the body be sick never so little, the Physician must be still with it, to give it such medicines as is requisite for the health thereof: And may the soul then which is always sick (for every sin that is committed, is a sore and sickness to the soul) be without her Physician half a year or a twelvemonth, the preacher of God's word, which is the only medicine that healeth the sickness of the soul? The soul hath as much need of her daily food for fear of perishing, as the body hath need of meat and drink, for fear of famishing: Nay, the soul hath a great deal more need to be fed for fear of Spiritual death, than the body hath for fear of worldly death: for, if the body die for want of food, it shall rise again, yea and live for ever, if it die in Christ: but if the soul die for want of food, it shall die eternally, and lie in hell which is called the second death. Therefore these Parsons are marvelous careless that feed their bodies so diligently, which must needs die at length for all their feeding, and suffer their souls, and the souls of their flock for want of feeding to die everlastingly, which should live for ever if they would feed them▪ But if such peevish Parsons should be constrained, to feed their own bellies no after with meat and drink, 
Mark this.  than they feed their flock with Spiritual food: then many of your Parsons would have fewer Benefices than they have, and preach a great deal ofter to their flock than they do.  Siuqila. 
You may be sure of that, if that should be so, they would be afraid to have one Benefice, lest they should be constrained to fast when they would feignest feed. O mad men, more brutish than Beasts, and more senseless than Swine, that the love of their bellies can make them do more for their flock, than the love of Christ can do, which hath shed his heart blood for them, to save them from Hell, and to bring them to Heaven. These great beneficed Parsons do know very well, that one flock of Sheep is enough, and enough for one Shepherd to look too, and keep safely: then four or five flocks are too many. For if the Shepherd be not daily with his flock and look very diligently to them, they will quickly go astray and be in danger to be devoured. Nay will not some of them myscarrie & be in danger though the Shepherd be still with them? yes be sure. Then if the Shepherd have three or four flocks of Sheep in sundry places, he can not be still with every flock, for though he be continually with one flock, yet two or three of his flocks must needs be without a Shepherd, which shepherdlesse flocks must needs go astray, and many of them in danger to perish. For some of those Sheep perish, that have their Shepherd still with them: then many of them are like to perish that have at all no Shepherd with them. Thus if one Shepherd be scant sufficient for the keeping safe of one flock of Sheep, than one Spiritual Shepherd can be but sufficient to keep one flock of people, which is Christ'S Sheep. And if it be requisite that every flock of Sheep have a Shepherd continually to look to them, for fear of the Wolf: than it is much more requisite that every flock of Christ'S Sheep should have a Spiritual Shepherd or Pastor always with them for fear of the Devil: 
Very true.  but how can that Parson be continually with his flock, that hath more Benefices than one, as before is sufficiently proved?  Omen. 
Surely Siuqila you have spoken both wisely & truly, I perceive if you were of that function, as I think you are not, you would not burden yourself with many benefices.  Siuqila. 
If I should addict myself that way as advisedly & circumspectly, as many runs into it both boldly and rashly, I would rather desire much learning to feed my flock, than great living to pamper myself: but many now a days had rather have a living to loiter, than knowledge to preach. Well now let us leave our greedy Parsons, that have never enough of spiritual livings: and talk of your Gentlemen that are content with their own temporal livings: I pray you sir, do they enhance their Rents with you?  Omen 
Surely the tenants with us, know not what enhaun●ing of Rents doth mean, neither the Landlords have any such thing in their mind: the Lands with us are no hire rented, than they were four or five thousand years since.  Siuqila. 
I much muse thereof, the Rents are marvelously enhanced with us.  Omen 
Why should you so? it is not to be mused at never a whit: if your Gentlemen and Landlords, were content with a competent living, temperate feeding, and moderate going as ours are, than they would enhance their Rents no more than they do: but I perceive that many of your Gentlemen & Landlords, have such ambitious minds, so desirous of honour, are so prodigal in spending, so excessive in feeding, and so Princely in going, that it is no marvel though their ancient rich Farmers and good housekeeping Tenants, be turned into poor drudges, and miserable peasants.  Siuqila. 
I am not deny it, your words are too true, in many of them, for to say true, few degrees with us are content with their own estate or calling, but wish to be higher, though some deserve to be lower ●the Gentleman would be a Squire, the Squire a Knight, the Knight a Baron, the Baron a Lord, the Lord an Earl, the Earl a Marquis, the marquis a Duke, and so higher if they might with their safety.  Omen. 
And I pray you would not your Farmers be Landlords, and your Yeomen be Gentlemen?  Siuqila. 
Yes I warrant you: and so through raking of riches together, they come daily to promotion and authority.  
I will not say, but that wealth joined with wisdom, is worthy of promotion and authority, otherwise, poverty ought rather to be preferred: for a poor wise man may get wealth and riches, but a rich fool will never get wisdom. O happy are your Tenants that have such contented Landlords. And our Tenants are unhappy that dwell under such uncontented cormorantes.  Omen. 
The Gentlemen and Landlords with us live so contentedly, so moderately, and so godly, that they have no occasion to rack their Rents: and their tenants are so neighbourly, charitable, and such lovers of the commonwealth, that they never enhance the price of their corn, victuals, and other commodities.  Siuqila. 
Yet scarcity may constrain them, to raise the price of their corn and victuals.  Omen. 
Nay we know not what scarcity doth mean: for God doth so bless the ground, of our godly and contented Landelords, and the labours of the honest and painful tenants, that we never have but great abundance of corn, victual, and other necessaries.  Siuqila. 
We have had likewise such a continual plenty since we received the Gospel, that I believe our Country never tasted the like so long together: but we must needs confess that it hath been only of Gods great goodness & not of our deserving.  Omen. 
So God will bless you still, if you perform indeed that you profess with your mouth.  Siuqila. 
Then, I perceive, it is hard to find a raiser of Rents with you.  Omen. 
Yea verily, it is as impossible to find one enhauncer of Rents with us, as it is easy to find many with you: and to say truth, it were but a folly for any to do so with us, for he should not find a Tenant that would give one penny more than the old Rent. And if any should, we have never a Landlord will take it.  Siuqila. 
If the tenants had done so with us, our Rents would not have been so racked as they are, but truly many of th●● are so envious of their neighbours prosperity, and so greedy of their own commodity, that they are the chief occasion of the unreasonable enhancing of our Rents: for they have, and do daily go to the owners of their neighbours Farms (& some of them, whom I call their neighbours, dwell twenty or forty miles from them) and proffer them so much, that the Landlord being suddenly gripped with the greedy worm, doth take his gentle & unsought for offer, and so thrust out his old tenant, when his Lease is expired, and perhaps before, if many or might may do it.  Omen. 
They, whose Farms they so go about to take, may well be their neighbours: but they that so uncharitably take their neighbour's Farms over their heads, are no good neighbours, but wicked cutthroats. But what harm have they that so get their neighbours Farms, Ground, or Houses from them?  Siuqila. 
No harm at all, unless that be harm to enjoy quietly the Farm or House, which he so craftily hired out of his neighbour's hand: neither have we any Law, once to punish or trouble them therefore.  Omen. 
We have such a Law for such takers, or hyrers of their neighbours House or Ground, that none with us need fear the hiring of their Farms from them. If you had such a Law with you, your Rents would not be so enhanced, your Fines would not be so much used, your Landlords would not be so enriched, nor the poor Tenants and Farmers would not be so unhoused, as I perceive they are.  Siuqila. 
I pray you sir, what law have you therefore?  Omen. 
Forsooth a very strait law, but it is seldom or never executed, wherefore few or none with us doth know that we have such a law. This saying or meaning of Christ (Do as thou wouldst be done unto) is so deeply printed in our breasts, that we need none other law.  Siuqila. 
O happy are they that so regard the law of God, that you need not the law of man, but I beseech you lot me hear your law in this case provided.  Omen. 
That you shall with all my 〈◊〉 this it is: whosoever offereth or taketh any fi●e, for any house or ground, otherwise than hath been accustomed, he shall pay the fourth part of his goods: the one half whereof shall be for a fine to the king of our Country, the other half shall be sold, and given equally to the poorest neighbours of him that offered, and that took the said Fine: and this law is so straightly executed, that none with us will offer any Fines.  Siuqila. 
This is a very straight law for offering of Fines.  Omen. 
Let none offer Fines, and then it is not strait  Siuqila. 
That is true, but yet it seemeth by your words, that there are fines accustomed with you.  Omen. 
There are so, but none must either offer or give them but the tenants of the same house or ground, 
A reasonable fine.  when their Leases are expired, and that is, but one years Rend towards the maintaining of the Lord.  Siuqila. 
Oh I would to God none paid with us any greater Fines, than one years Rend of their house or Farm: but the Fines of houses and Farms with us are commonly so great, yea besides the new enhancing of the Rents of the same houses or farms, that the years of their Leases will be almost expired, ere they can recover the same: and many of them are constrained to sell a great part of their stock, which should maintain them in their Farms, for the paying of the same Fines: that thereby they are utterly beggarde, and so are feign, for want of cattle and Corn, to let out the most of their Ground to others, which do reap the chief commodity from them, without either charge or Fine ●whereby they shall never recover or get again the one half of their Fine, and thereby when their Leasses are ended, are far unable to pay a new Fine and the enhanced Rents for the same: and so they are thrust out of their Farms, whereby many that kept good houses, and relieved the poor, are now verome beggars themselves.  Omen. 
Surely it is pitiful to hear, but more sorrowful to be suffered. Our Landlords are not of the mind of your Landlords, for all degrees with us that have lands to let, do not only refuse & abhor to take such Fines, but also will lessen or lawn their Rents, if they set that their Tenants are not well able to live of the same. Yea▪ & if their Tenants should by any mischance be unable to pay them their Rent, they will not only forgiune them the same, but also will give them money to help them withal.  Siuqila. 
There may be such Landlords with us, but if there be, I fear there are not many. But I pray you proceed, what is your Law for such as do hire their neighbours House from them?  Omen. 
Mark and I will tell you. Whosoever doth procure to take his neighbore House or Farm without his consent, his House or farm (if he have any) shall be set or let to his next poorest neighbour for the space of vij years▪ & if it be his own free land, the said poor Tenant shall pay the ancient Rent of the same, to the maintaining of the wife & children of 〈…〉 went about to take his neighbore House or Ground. And none upon pain of forfeiting their House or land to the King, shall 〈◊〉 him either House or Ground for the space of the same seven. years: And he shall wear on his back & bosom these words all that while: (This man went about to put his neighbour out of his House) and so he shall be known what he is, whereby every one shall shun him that seeth him. How like you this Law, have you such a Law with you for such as seek to put their neibors from their Houses?  Siuqila. 
We have none such, I would we had, but some would think that it were too straight a Law.  Omen. 
The godly Father doth not make the rod purposely to beat his Child, but to cause him to shun offences that he may not be beaten: so we have not made this Law to make men be punished, but only to cause them not to hire their neighbour's Houses, that they be not punished. So that this law is not straight to him that doth not offend: & for him that will needs offend it is not straight enough. I will tell you how one was served with us, that went about to hire his neighbour's House from him: Mark it well, for the example is not very tedious, nor the matter frivolous. There was one in our country (but it is long since) that had a Farm of a Gentleman by the old Rent, which was y●rly worth to the Farmer 〈◊〉 at least, he being both covetous himself, & desirous to make his son & gentleman (as many Farmers with you I think do & have done) & therewithal very rich, smelling & perceiving that a certain Gentleman by him, being Landlord to one of his neibors, was both needy & greedy: went with a bag of gold to him (knowing that gold was a good ●●yfe to catch such a fish) & sayd● Sir I understand that you are Lord of such a Farm, & for that I perceive your tenamnt is not so beneficial to you as he is bound, neither payth half so much Rend to you for it as it is worth: I am come to you not only to offer you this purse full of gold for a Fine, but will give you as much more yearly Rent as he payeth. To whom the Gentleman said. You proffer me well, & I would grant your request but for fear of the law. You know herein the laws, are not only set forth with great extremity, but also executed with great severity: to whom the Farmer answered briefly: what sir● are you afraid of your own shadow? he that is afraid of every grass, must not walk in a meadow: if you be not too tender hearted, or too spice conscienced, or think you have more than enough, this purse full of gold, and the yearly doubling of your rent, will make you yield. To whom the Gentleman said: I could be content to grant thy desire, but what a mischief shouldst thou incur to give me such an unreasonable Fine? thou knowest for offering of this Fine (if it were known) thou shouldest forfeit the fourth part of all thy goods (the law therefore is so straight): then how shouldest thou be handled for giving, and I for taking of it, if it be known? Tu● said the Farmer, if you keep your own counsel I will keep mine. Suppose, said the Gentleman, that we keep our own counsels for the Fine, yet the enhancing of the Rent could not be hid: Yes I could find a mean for that, said the Farmer, our Lease should have expressed in it but only the old Rent, & I would promise you by my faith, that I would pay you every Rent-day during my Lease, as much Rend mor● as is set down in the Lease. I might haply be deceived, said the Gentleman, if I should trust to that, for you that will not stick to break God's commandment in taking all your neibors living, 
A thing very likely.  will not let to break your own promise in d●●●●●ding me of the one half of my Rent, which is not the tenth part of my living, but if thou wilt do thus, said the Gentleman, that is, make me a Bill of det, that thou owest me thus much money, as the one half of the Rent cometh to during the time of the Lease, and wilt therein grant payment to me at such days as the rent is to be paid, of so much money as the several 〈◊〉 of the Rents of the Farm amo●●teth to them tho● shalt 〈◊〉 what I will say unto thee▪ Yes that I will, said the Farmer. Yea, but mark said the Gentleman, there is one mischief behind, which will hardly be salved. What is that? said the Farmer. Marry that is this, said the gentleman: though the Fine be kept never so close, and the racked Rent hide never so pri●●lye, yet the hiring of thy neighbour's house or farm from him, must needs be known, for I am sure the Tenant will not keep 〈◊〉 Counsel. Sir, said the Farmer, you may be hold of that: but I know a salve will heal that sore well 〈◊〉. If you can do so, said the gentleman, than the matter will be soon at 〈…〉 Then 〈…〉 F●rmer: I can have two or three trusty fellows for a little mo●●y, that shall witness if need be, that I had ●his confente in the taking of this farm of you, and that he did take money of me, that I might enter into his farm with his good will, after the end of his 〈…〉 were best to take heed, said the gentleman, lest your witnesses deceive you▪ Nay said he, I am sure of them, they will cleave to me like 〈◊〉 for money: well, it is good to be circums●●●●, said the gentleman, for the judge is so godly & so wise, that he will smell out a false knave and a false matter quickly. Yea but said the Farmer that judge is dead that you mean of, we have and their 〈◊〉 judge 〈◊〉 in his 〈◊〉, that is neither 〈…〉 as he● and moreover he is so nigh me, that he will not take part against me, for he is my own Son, so that if need should stand, he would lean a little on my side, and 〈◊〉 with the wrong. And to make him more 〈…〉 pleasure me and my friend, I will present him 〈◊〉 with such 〈◊〉, that 〈◊〉 after he may be the 〈◊〉 willing to take my part. Well, 〈◊〉 the Gentleman, if you can bring all this to pass as you say, I will here grant you my Farm, and will make a lease thereof, and to enter on it immediately after my Tenant's lease is expired, and thereupon I take this for a fine, so that it be all gold: Yes sir, said the Farmer, it is all gold, and that good gold I warrant you. And then the said greedy Gentleman told the gold, and so took it and carried it away with him.  Siuqila. 
What followed then?  Omen. 
Forsooth all this was wrought as politicly as might be: but you shall hear how the matter fell out: within two or three months before the said Gentleman's tenants lease was expired, according to the custom of our country, the said Tenant went to the said Gentleman his Landlord, with a couple of Capons for a goodwill present, not a customed gift: and said: Sir, of good will I have brought you a couple of Capons, to whom the Gentleman said, I think you are come rather of necessity than for good will or friendship, but go to, say on, what is your will with me? Sir, said the Farmer, it is not unknown to you, that my lease of my farm is almost out, wherefore I come to you, according unto the custom, to desire you to make me a new lease, and lo, here is, besides the Capons that of good will I give you, one whole years rend of my farm, as a fine for the same. 
A good custo●● for Farmers.  Indeed said the Gentleman by the custom of our country, I ought to make you a new lease of your Farm, paying to me one years rend for a fine therefore: but you know every Landlord may let his Farm or ground to whom he list, so that the Farmer that dwelleth in it doth agree thereto: that is true, said the Farmer, but what mean you by that? you know well enough, said the Gentleman what I mean thereby, for I am sure you are not ignorant, that I have made a lease of the Farm you now dwell in, to an other man, and that with your consent: sir, said the Farmer I think you do but jest, to prove my patience withal, I had need to know of it before I consent to it, and it were more meet I should know the party to whom I should consent, than to consent before I know the party. You know him I am sure, said the Gentleman, you need not make the matter so strange, he dwelleth not far from you, he is a neighbour of yours. If any such, said the Farmer, hath hired my house over my head without my consent, he may be my neighbour, but he is no godly neighbour. The truth is so sir, if any hath hired my Farm of you, as yet I neither know who it is, neither have I consented to any such thing. Then said the Farmer's Landlord, I am sure, that I have let your Farm: and I am certain, that you have consented to the letting of your Farm: whether you were drunk or no when you consented to it, I know not, but he was sober enough to whom you consented I am sure. Well, said the Farmer, all this your talk is Hebrew to me, for I know not what it meaneth: Yea but, said the Gentleman, you shall find it your own Country speech when you feel what it is: go your way, you get no Lease of me, when your Lease is expired, than you shall know who it is that hired it: you know full well who hath hired it, but that you list to dally and work wiles with me. I pray God, said the Farmer; that you work not wiles with me, for I use nothing but plainness with you. 
Mark well.  Oh sir, said he, will you degenerate from your good ancestors? will you go about to break the laudable customs of this our famous Country, that our godly fore elders by great wisdom established, of their successors continued, and now throughout our whole Country practised? When I came now to you, I made a full account, that you would not deny me: for who is it, through all this our country of Mauqsun, that l●ueth our King, obeyeth our laws, esteemeth our orders, favoureth our fame, regardeth their own credit, and wisheth a general commodity to our Country, that once will presume to violate or break our commendable customs? and will you, being a worthy Gentleman, and of an ancient house of this our country, contrary to our good orders and custom, put out me your loving and obedient Tenant, without any just cause, who with my fore-elders, have thus many thousand years dwelled quietly in the same? Let neither glistering gold entice you, neither any Fines allure you, nor yet racked Rents procure you to do that in an hour, that shall bring your infamy all your life. You see, that all your elders that never put out their poor Tenants, did live with worship, and die with fame: and will you by putting out your poor tenant, live with disworship, and die with shame? You know sir, that no country in all the world, hath wiser Rulers, juster judges, better laws, nor yet better executed than we have: you hear of sew that offend the law, but none unpunished that offend the law: therefore foresee the danger, least when you would you cannot avoid the danger. They that procure you to fall, I fear can not help you up. Then the Gentleman said, (showing himself to be angry) away thou prating knave, dost thou tell me my duty? Divines are dainty, 
Note this:  when peasants do preach. Sir, said the Tenant, though I am too simple to preach, yet I may be able to give good counsel. Every wealthy head hath not wisdom at will, nor every poor fellow is not fraught with folly: wisdom is not always tied to wealth, nor foolishness is not always knit to poverty: therefore the wiseman will consider the talk, not the talker, but fools regard the talker, not the talk: wherefore sir, the wiser you are, the willinglier you will weigh my words. Good counsel may do good if it be taken in time: but if it come too late it profiteth not. And now, for that perhaps you have denied me my Lease only to prove me, I will not show myself obstinate, nor be stubborn to you, at whose hands I have my chief living: Therefore as your most loving and obedient Tenant, I humbly beseech you to let me have a new lease from you of my Farm: and here again I offer unto you for a fine, one whole years rend of my Farm. To whom the Gentleman said, get thee hence, thou shalt have none other lease of me than thou haste, neither will I take thy fine, nor accept thee long for my tenant, and therewith the sorrowful tenant went away.  Siuqila. 
But I pray you sir, did the tenant when his lease was expired go willingly out of his Farm, or did his Landlord thrust him out by force?  Omen. 
Forsooth neither, for he tarried in it still, & would not go out, but kept possession thereof, so that he that hired the said Farm over his head, complained of him to the judge who was his own son, thinking that he would weigh with him altogether being his father.  Siuqila. 
It was very like so, therefore it was marvel that he durst stand so against his Landlord, and against him that had hired his Farm, considering the judge was his son.  Omen. 
Yea you, and they of your Country may marvel at it well enough, for perhaps some judges with you would have favoured their father's cause, though it had not been altogether right.  Siuqila. 
That is very like, for there have been judges with us ere now, that have winked at the right, and have favoured such as had neither right nor good title in the thing they sued for, and yet was neither their father, mother, sister, nor brother, nor any kin at all to them.  Omen. 
Then perhaps they greased them in the hands with the golden ointment, which hath as great virtue to allure wicked judges as consanguinity or kindred. But this Farmer, whose house was hired from him, did assure himself, that the judges of Mauqsun are so righteous, godly, and fear God so much, that neither love of their kindred, favour of their friends, nor yet bribes of strangers, could make them once tread awry: besides that, he knew full well, that if the judge should weigh with the wrong, and do contrary to equity and justice, that then we have such a loving, affable, diligent, and righteous King, that if any poor man complain to him of wrong done to him by any whatsoever he were, he would hear the matter himself, and whether he were Lord, Ruler, or judge that did the party wrong, he should be sure to pay full dearly for it, according to the law, without any hope of remission or pardon: And therefore this Farmer did not fear his righteous matter at all, though the judge was son to his enemy: so that when the judges father had complained to his son, as is before said, making to his son a very plain & smooth matter of it, as he told the tale: the judge then said, father I much muse, that the said Farmer would first consent & be willing, 
The wise saying of the judge,  that you should have his Farm after his years were expired, & now after his lease is ended to withstand you, & not suffer you to enter into the same: & so much that rather, for that he knoweth you are my dear father, & that I love & esteem you above all earthly creatures, who may very well think, that if I will aid & help the widow, fatherless, & strangers that I know not, to their right, that then I will not suffer you to take any wrong: Therefore it seemeth, that either he is a noughty obstinate or foolish fellow, or that he was drunk when he consented & agreed to your taking of his Farm: or else it seemeth, that you go about to do him wrong, presuming that rather to prosecute your pretended matter against him, in hope to obtain your desire, for that I am your son that must be judge of the cause: but father I have such a good opinion in you; that you will neither go about to do any man wrong, neither bring any false matter before me: And therefore I am persuaded, that the foolish Farmer of some set purpose, doth withstand & resist you: to whom his father then said, do you think son, that I would seek mine own shame, & your reproach? be bold I will not: & that you may credit my matter the better, lo here are three witnesses that were by, when he consented & agreed, that I should take a lease of his Farm: & here is the Gentleman his landlord that will affirm the same. And then the Gentleman said to the judge, my Lord, you know we have a law, that they that have any lands houses or ground here in the country of Mauqsun, may neither put out their tenants (but for certain great & urgent causes, which I am not able to lay & prove against my late farmer) neither may take any fines, other than the accustomed fine, which is, one years rend: nor yet may enhance their rents. Therefore seeing I cannot take any income of any, 
A s●ttle saying,  neither raise or enhance my rents: to what end should I put out my Tenant that hath paid my rent truly, & used himself honestly? unless he were willing & consenting thereto? you say very true, said the judge, that matter seemeth to be very apparent: but I marvel that he should be so willing before, & so unwilling now. Belike said the Gentleman, he was either not well advised when he did consent to it, or else it may he, that he thought himself sure of some other house or Farm to be in, at the time of his consent, and now cannot have the same: whereby he reputes that he so fond agreed, & so thinketh by force to keep it, and to desude your good nature by one mean or other. Then the judge said, it were a folly for him so to think, for he may be sure that I am not such a fool, but that I can find out the truth: & that I will not take his part in wrong, to be against my father in right. If he had been disappointed of an other house (contrary to his expectation) it had been his best way to come to me, to desire me to entreat my father, to be good unto him, & to suffer him to enjoy his Farm still, which I assure you I would have done, & I think my father would have done so much at my request. Yea son said he, I would have done more for you than that. Then said the judge, I will send for the Farmer hither, and see what he can say for himself. It shall not need, said his father, here is evidence enough, therefore I pray you proceed according to the law ●ay father, said the judge, you shall hold me excused therein, that better evidence & witness you have, the less hath he: & our law will not suffer that any man be prosecuted or condemned, but that he must have knowledge thereof, & to speak for himself, or some other for him: You shall be sure that he can do you no wrong as long as I am judge: And therefore I will send for him: your three witnesses here, besides your own credit & this gentleman's, will soon make an end of this matter: And also I will persuade him to yield possession to you by gentle means, otherwise I will tell him that law will enforce him thereto, with further loss whether he will or no. Then he said to his son, I pray you do, & let it be as quickly dispatched as may be. And then the judge immediately sent an officer for him, at whose commandment he came by & by: whom, when the judge saw, he said, I marvel Farmer, why you do not suffer my father to enjoy & possess the Farm you dwell in, which he took of this gentleman, let him have possession therein quietly & speedily, or else he shall have it whether you will or no: Then that Farmer was about to speak, but the judges father spoke suddenly, & said● you niyght be sure you foolish fellow that you have a wrong match, & that you cannot be able to withstand me, 
A fair brag.  specially seeing my son is judge where our matter must be determined. Then the Farmer answered again very soberly: I know my matter is so true, and your son so upright a judge, that I am right glad, that he shall have the determining of my matter, though you are his father, & I but a stranger to him. What Farmer, hast that such a good opinion in me, said the judge? Yea that I have, said the Farmer, & none can make me believe, that either father, favour, affection, kindred, money, or rewards, can make you judge unjustly, or deal untruly: then the judge said, thou art not deceived in me: therefore, for the affiance thou hast in me, & for the good will I bear thee, yield up thy possession to my father, & let him have his right with quietness, & I will be a suitor to him to be good to thee. Sir, said that Farmer, by that time that the truth is known, and all things stand according to equity, you will not think that he can pleasure me. This is very strange said the judge: if I may credit mine own father, this honest Gentleman, & these three sober witnesses, thou hast consented & agreed that my father should take a lease in reversion of this Gentleman. My Lord, said the Farmer, as it is meet that a man should be at his own marriage, so it were requisite that I should consent to mine own agreement: and it were marvel, that I should be so oblivious, as to put away my whole living, and not to remember, when, where, nor to whom: such a thing is not so soon to be forgotten: I might then be counted to be more forgetful than Claudius, who in a fury, being Emperor of Rome, commanded one of his familiar friends to be beheaded, and called for the same man the next day to play with him at Chess, forgetting that he had bid that he should be put to death. Wherefore, as you are a righteous judge, & know that the judge of all judges is in heaven, I beseech you, not only to examine the truth of this matter thoroughly, but also to separate every one of these that are come against me, whereby they may not confer any further together than they have done, & that they hear not one another's examination. To whom the judges father said, dost thou think that my son will do so much at thy request? no I warrant thee. Father, said the judge, be contented, if your matter be true (as you say it is) than your separation cannot make you disagree in truth: Therefore his request is both reasonable & lawful: and if I should not grant it unto him, I should not only seem to deal unjustly, but also every one might think I were partial, and fully bend to do him wrong to pleasure you withal: so that my loving father, 
Note this.  be not displeased with me, for though otherwise you may command me, yet in this case I may command you: you must consider, that I am now two kind of persons, in respect of my worldly birth, I am your son, & aught to obey you: but in respect of this mine office, I am your judge, and you ought to obey me: wherefore I command every one of you to separate yourselves: and to the intent my will herein may be the better performed, I command five officers belonging to this court, to wait on you, and to keep every of you so far asunder, that no one of you shall talk with an other, neither any of you hear the examinations of an other. Take them Officers unto you, and keep them separately until I call for them. Ah son, said the judges Father, dost thou use thy Father thus extremely? I would have thought thou wouldst have handled mine enemy thus, rather than me: father, said the judge, be content, he came willingly as soon as I sent for him, and here is none, neither hath he brought any to be examined on his behalf, as you have done, neither do I commit you into these Officers hands as prisoners, but only that he may perceive, I am willing, to perform his reasonable request: to whom his father answered, I will not be kept of any, I am able to keep myself, I would I had never begot thee, 
An unfit speech to a judge.  I am sorry that I came to thee to complain. And I am as sorry father, said his son, that it is my chance to be your judge. If your matter be right (as I now fear the contrary) you would be as well content for my credit to grant your adversaries lawful desire, as that I should judge rightly on your side. Then said the father to the judge, I will trouble you no further, I and this Gentleman my Landlord, with my witnesses will be gone, I will have it tried in another Court: then said the judge, I could be right well content that you should so do, if the Law would permit you: but our Law is, that no matters may be determined, but only in that Court that is appointed therefore, & every matter must be tried where they are first commenced: and now for that you dwell within the circuit of this Court, where I am judge, and seeing you have comenst your matter here against this Farmer, you can not remove it from hence if you would. I marvel why you should refuse to have your matter tried before me your son: for as you may think, that every one should here have their right, so you may be most sure, that I being judge, and your most loving Son, would not suffer you here to take any wrong. Me thinks this Farmer whom you sue here (that is neither kith nor kin to me) should rather refuse to have his matter tried here, than you. But this I will do father, for the love I bear you, and for the great care I have of you, I will give this Farmer an hundred mark out of mine own purse, to let you enjoy his Farm quietly, whereby neither you shall need to trouble me nor the Law any further. Then the judges father said churlishly, I have no need of thy money, I am able to pay for it myself: but for that I have agreed with him once, as my witnesses can testify, I will not give him one penny more than I have done: then said the Farmer, if you should give me but one penny more than you have given me, than you should give me but one penny for my good will of my Farm, for I never had any of you yet: and a penny were to little of conscience for such a Farm as it is, which is sufficient to find me and my wife, and thirty persons, besides the daily refreshing of my poor neighbours and diverse strangers: and if you would give me five thousand pound for my good will of it, yet you should not have it: for that I and my ancestors have dwelled in it time out of mind. And if I should put such a good living away, which my ancestors have lived on so long, from my children, every one might well say, that I am not worthy to have such a living left unto me by my Parents: and whereas they might think that as long as I kept it I had some wit, so now they might well affirm, that I were a fool, or began to dote: And therefore I have neither put it away, neither will consent to put it away. And though my Landlord be willing to have a new Tenant, yet I am content to keep still mine old Landelord: Therefore seeing I have not offended him any way, nor yet his new tenant pleasured him by any means (that I know) I fear it will fall out, (if the matter be well ript, that either he hath had some greater Fine, than I have offered him, or some greater Rent than I do pay him, or rather both. Well father, said the judge, I perceive this man will not departed with his Farm, unless he lose it by the Law. And for that I would have you friends without Law (if it might be) I beseech you father let me entreat you at this time to be ruled with reason: what would you have me to do? said he to his son. Mark me and I will tell you: you have living enough, 
A virtuous judge.  though you have not this man's Farm from him, which if you had, I fear you would not keep the like house on it, that he doth, therefore I would wish you should release your title you have in it, from this Gentleman And if you paid any Fine for it (which you may do with the consent of the Farmer, so that it be but one years Rent) I will request this Gentleman to give it you again: and this his old Farmer shall give him the same Fine again. How say you Farmer, said the judge, are you content therewith? yea sir, said the Farmer, at your request with all my heart. Then said the Gentleman, but you were best know whether I will take it again of him or not. And then said the judges father, though you would so take it, yet perhaps I would not receive my Fine again. I pray you father said the judge, stick not herein: So that you have your money you laid out for the Fine, you need not care: Yea marry said he, so that I had my money that I laid out. Then the judge said, had he any more money of you, than one years Rent? I say not so said his father, and if I had paid him any more, yet I set more by the Farm than by the Fine: yea, but father said the judge, I trust you paid him no more, than one years Rent: the gentleman said, no indeed did he not: then the judge said to the gentleman, I pray you give my father his Fine again, that he gave you: my Lord, said the Gentleman, I have it not, I have spent it: them the judge said again, are you so content that the Farmer shall give him the Fine, that he should give you? I am pleased said the Gentleman, so that your father will make me a general quittance: no said the judges father, I will make no quittance, I have hired my Farm, and my Farm I look to have: then father, said the judge, you are given more to will, than to wisdom, and to gain, more than to godliness. Well seeing the Farmer will take no money to forego his Farm, let me entreat you to release up your Leaf: And because I would have all ended quietly, I will give you forty pound out of mine own purse, so that you will do it: Whereby you may perceive that I would have the Farmer to keep his Farm, and you to be no loser, which judges use not commonly to do. I will have none of you said the judges father, 
No common use of judges.  but if the Farmer will give me a hundredth pound to release my state and title, I am content. Then said the Farmer, I will not give one penny for it more than my ordinary Fine, I will break no good custom of this our famous Country. And now my Lord, for that you have offered too much and all for quietness, which I see is for the tender zeal you bear to your father, (though he cannot see it) let the matter be tried before you, and he that wins it by the Law, let him wear it. Are you so stout? said the Gentleman, for my part let it be tried by the Law: though you think my Lord judge doth favour you, yet assure yourself, our three witnesses and we two are sufficient to overthrow you. I trust he will not go against a manifest truth: no said the judge, but I would gladly if it might be, have the matter taken up: yea said the judges father, if the Farmer's matter were as true as my son knoweth it is false, he would not be so ready to have the matter ended without Law: 
Spiteful words.  at which words, the judge began to blush, saying, well father, this something toucheth me, the Farmer said true, when he affirmed that you can not see the zeal I bear you: and now seeing you have urged me, let it fall out as it will, for the Law shall try it, and now you shall see whether I will bear with falsehood or not: saying further, bring my father hither to the Bar, and the Farmer also, but carry the rest aside until I call for them: and then the judge said, father it appeareth by your Bill of declaration, that such a day, such a month, and in such a place, this Farmer received forty pound of you, wherefore he did consent and agree that his Landlord should let you a Lease of the Farm he now dwelleth in, and that you should suffer him, after the end of your Lease, quietly to possess and enjoy the same. How say you father (said the judge) is it not so? yes truly said his father: then fear not father, said the judge (though you have something missused me) if this be true, you shall have the Farm and all your desire. Then said the Farmer, if that be true, than I will yield and he shall have it, but my Lord if I prove it false, than I trust I shall have my Farm still. Yea that you shall, said the judge, fear it not. Sir if it will please you, said the Farmer, to send for three such of my neighbours, they will come with speed and something satisfy you in this matter. Then the judge commanded an officer to go for them, who came presently to the judge, and then the judge examined every of them by themselves: and they all agreed, that the same day the said Farmer and they were all the day above half a dozen miles out of the town. And then the judge said to the Farmer, how say you sirrah, where were you the same day that is mentioned in this Bill of Declaration? Forsooth said he, I was with the said three men my neighbours all the same day half a dozen miles out of the town: and if they have told you truly, they have said no less. In deed Farmer you and they agree all in one. Then said the judge to his father, how like you this father? Then his father said: it was then the next day after I am most sure thereof. Then said the judge, if you are no surer of the truth of your matter, than you are certain of the day when this bergaine was made, I fear it will fall out but madly on your side. I pray you confess all where he was the next day after mentioned in this Bill. And then the Farmer and his three neighbours said all at once, that four or five days then together they were all at the same place in the Country, making merry at one of their friends marriages. Then the judge said, Father, if your matter end no better than it doth begin, it will not go very well with you. Then his father said, all this can not daunt me. Truly said the judge you like your cause a great deal better than I do. You know, said his father, he hath but three witnesses beside himself, and I have other three witnesses beside myself, and the Gentleman my new Landlord is the fift, who is able therein to say something. And then the judge commanded the witnesses to be brought before him, whom he asked if they would be sworn to utter the truth in a matter that he would demand of them. And they with one voice said they would: then they took their oaths before the judge, at which time the judges father would have sworn, but the judge would not suffer him. And when the said three witnesses had sworn, they plainly confessed before the judge and all the company, that they never heard the said Farmer consent and agree to any such thing. How chanceth it then, said the judge, that my father doth bring you as witnesses on his side? Forsooth, said they, he offered each of us a good sum of money, to bear witness against this Farmer in this matter, when he should will us: but we would take no money of him, saying we would receive it of him, when we had done him pleasure: purposing by this means, to save this innocent Farmer, if need should require, from losing of his Farm, as I hope now we do, abhorring in our consciences his wicked practice to betray the innocent. Then the faultless Farmer held up his eyes to Heaven, and said: O Lord I thank thee: when I came hither, I looked to have had none other witnesses on my side but only myself, but now through thy goodness, thou haste raised six witnesses to help me, besides a most true and virtuous judge, whose father hoped to overthrow me, through the help of his son, and three witnesses that he procured himself: but thou haste brought his own witnesses against him, and they have made him to fall, by whom he thought to stand. Then the judges father hanged down his head for shame, and the judge his son did weep even for sorrow: saying, O father what a doleful day is this? What meant you to commit such wickedness? Why did you come before your loving son with such an evil and shameful cause? Did you think that I, though I be young, am a Fool? Or did you believe that by affection I would be won and enticed to do wrong? Or thought you, that because you are my father, you therefore should allure me to falsehood? You know that a judge ought to be a father to the fatherless, a defender of the innocent, a succourer of the sorrowful, a protector of the poor, and a helper of those that be oppressed. justicia is portrayed with a vail before her eyes, whereby is signified, that true justice ought to be blind, and not to respect the person with the eyes, but the matter with the mind. And also she hath a pair of Balances in her hand: signifying, that as a true Balance doth weigh equally, so true justice should not weigh nor wring on either side, up nor down, but equally, according to truth. Oh what a grief is it to my heart. You knew full well that the matter was wrong: and I partly smelled that it was not right. I mysseliked it when you would have it proceed against him in his absence: You might be sure that when I offered to give him money out of mine own purse to let you have his Farm, and also money unto you to release your interest thereof to him (which I thought was but small) that then I perceived your matter would not fall out very well. Oh infortunate father, that doth hurste the heart of your woeful son. With that his father fell down on his knees, and with weeping tears said: O son, would to God I had followed your counsel, than this shame had never come to me: saying to the Farmer, Oh Farmer forgive me, and desire my son to be good unto me: The Lord forgive you said the Farmer, I would it lay in my power to release you. Then he said to his son: O my dear son be favourable unto me. Then the judge his son said, Rise up father and kneel not to me, it is rather my part to kneel to you: O father, when I offered and could have pleasured you, than you would not: and now that you are desirous and would have me to do you good, I cannot. You know we have a severe King, and our Laws are extreme and may not be broken: so that if I should moderate judgement contrary to the Law, I should not pleasure you, but utterly undo myself. For though I would spare and favour you, the King by his espials would hear of it; who therefore would execute me with all extremity, and would punish you with all severity: and so I should bring you to greater vexation, and myself to destruction. Therefore father be content, for there is no remedy but that I must needs give such judgement on you, as your offence requireth by the Law. Separate my father a little aside, said the judge, and bring the Gentleman hither.  Siuqila. 
But by the way I pray you tell me, did the Gentleman understand how the matter went?  Omen. 
No forsooth, which you shall perceive by the sequel: When the Gentleman was brought to the bar before the judge, the judge looked on him as pleasantely as he could, and said, sir I am sorry that this foolish Farmer hath both troubled this Court, you, and my father, with such a vain matter, for I perceive by the witnesses, my father, and you, that he consented to the making of my father's Lease by you, though he will not fully affirm it: But will you tell me truly of one thing that I shall ask you, said the judge: to whom the Gentleman answered, Yea sir that I will if I can: But do not fable with me said the judge, for if you should make a lie to me in this case, thereby you should incur no small danger by the Law, if it be known: therefore before you speak advise yourself well: Were you present, or did you hear this Farmer, when he consented & agreed that you should make my father a Lease of his Farm? Where at the Gentleman mused, and stayed and said nothing: Then the judge said, I perceive you follow my counsel, for you take good advisement before you speak. Though I bade you be advised what you say, yet my meaning was not that you should say nothing, and not to speak at all: Why do you not answer to my demand? If you be sure that you heard him speak it, what need you fear to say so? If you did not, then tell me accordingly. But all this while the Gentleman would say never a word. It seemeth said the judge, that this my question doth drive him to a narrow straight, for he thinks if he should say that he heard him not speak it, and my father and the other witnesses should before affirm the contrary, than he should bring a great suspicion to his matter: If he should affirm that he heard him speak it, and they before denied it, than he should be punished by the law for a Liar. Gentleman, Gentleman, said the judge, your being mute shows you are driven to a mischief, and this your silence bringeth a marvelous suspicion. This is very strange, that you are thus tongue tied so suddenly. Where some mar their matter with speaking too much, you mean to amend it by holding your peace and saying too little. Well, seeing you will not answer me, I will no further trouble you therein. I perceive you did not hear him speak it: which you are as loath to utter, lest you should prove them liars, which hath confessed it, as to tell a lie, for fear of your own punishment. They needed not to have called you for a witness herein, for they were four besides you, and fewer are sufficient for the trial of truth be the Law, yet it had been most requisite that this Farmer should have consented to yourself, for the making of a Lease to my father, considering you could not do it without his good will and agreement, wherein I must needs say there was a great oversight in you. But their witnessing of the matter is sufficient, whereby your Lease must needs be good that you made to my father: but though before you would not answer by demand, yet I beseech you to grant this my request: what is that? said the Gentleman (being well comforted with the judges politic words) forsooth said the judge, this Farmer I perceive doth mourn, for that he feareth he shall lose his Farm, and the more, for that he hath never a house to dwell in, 
A good policy to try him.  whose case I do pity: And for that I have gotten my father's good will, that he shall have it again, I beseech you do so much at my request, as to make him a lease of the same, & he shall pay you your due Fine therefore, and so you may repay my father his fine again: Whereat he sée●●d more sad than he was, and paused a good while, and at length said: I am very loath to do it, he deserveth but small favour at my hand, neither have you any such cause to speak for him, considering he knew that your father's lease was made with his consent, and yet refused your bountiful offer, saying that he would not yield his good will therein (which as appeareth was as good as nothing) for five thousand pound, though now he is like to lose it for a great deal less: wherefore I beseech you persuade me no further therein, for he shall never have it. Well seeing you will not do so much for my sake, said the judge, I must needs think myself the less beholden to you, the thing is your own, you may do what you will, I cannot compel you: but hereof I am sure, if you could be as well content to take him for your Tenant, as he is to accept you for his Landlord, you would not put him from it: and to say truth, in my hearing he hath courteously used himself towards you, and before as I am credibly informed, whereby you have no cause to be so earnest against him. You know that none can give you a greater Fine nor more Rent than he doth, and therefore there is no reason, why you should be so desirous, to put forth your old ancient and honest Tenant, 
No reason indeed.  for a new Tenant, without any commodity, whose conditions and honesty, you have not so well tried. Mark the sentence of Christ, which is: Whatsoever you would that other do to you, do even the same to them: consider if you were his tenant in this case, and he were your Landlord, would you be content that he should turn you out of his house, and let it to another? I think you would not: therefore as you would not have Christ to turn you out of his house in Heaven, 
Good counsel.  so turn not this your poor Tenant out of your house on earth. Though I would grant it him, said the Gentleman, I think your father would not release his right therein: I told you before, said the judge, that I had gotten my father's good will therein, therefore if you will grant him your good will, I should think myself much bound unto you: sir, said the Gentleman, for that he hath yielded up his interest, I will be advised th●●in, it may be that hereafter upon some better consideration, I may be alured, but as yet I will not. Now said the judge, that you have given me a full answer, I know whereto to trust: but seeing you think you have done with me, I must proceed further, for I have not done with you. Because you are so strait laced against your honest Farmer, and that you are so desirous to have my father your Tenant, and to put him out, it is impossible but something doth drive you to do it: for as I said before, if you have no great Fine nor more Rend for it, than you had of this man, there is no reason to lead you to change your honest known Tenant, in whom you can find no fault (as you confessed before) for a stranger whose conditions you know not: therefore I am fully persuaded, that you have or shall have a greater Fine, or more Rent, or rather both, than you should have of this Farmer, as before he wisely surmised: wherefore tell me truly & lie not, as you will avoid the danger thereof, how much did my father give you for a Fine? then the Gentleman said, he gave me no more, than one years Rend of my Farm: take heed said the judge, that you make not a lie: you were better to lie twice before some other than once before me: 
Great presumptions.  lies are dear wares I tell you in this Country: because my father was so loath to take this Farmer's Fine, for the Fine he gave you, it made me judge that the same did not amount to his Fine by a great deal: & because you required a quittance of my father, whereby you would have the one discharge the other, it showed that the Fine received of my father, was much more than your Tenants, which he should repay to my father, or else why should either you desire a quittance of my father, or he refuse to make you a quittance therefore? The presumptions are such, which before I have alleged, that it is almost impossible but that the greatness of the Fine, did allure you to let it to my father▪ And beards that, to tell you flatly, my father hath bewrayed your Fine to me, which I am sure in this case would neither lie on himself nor on you: therefore it is but a folly to conceal it, for it was spoken before too many now to be hid. Therefore tell me truly, and lie not, for if you do, you shall pay for a double lie, which will be small to your ease: what Fine did my father give you to make him a Lease? nay, speak the truth and shame the Devil, the sum was too great for you to forget: you were better tell truth & to avoid the danger of lying, than to tell a lie, & nevertheless the truth be known. Then the Gentleman gave a great sigh, and said nothing. Gentleman, said the judge, your holding of your peace is as good as a grant, say either yea or nay, for I am indifferent: but this I tell you before, the Fine is confessed that he paid, therefore it is but folly to go about to hide that, that cannot be hid, answer me one way or other. Then said the Gentleman, hath he confessed it indeed? he hath broken promise with me: but seeing he hath confessed he did give it, I will also confess I received it. How much was there of it said the judge, forsooth it was two hundred pound in gold, said he: but if I had thought your father would have kept his own counsel no better, he should neither have had my Farm, nor I would have had his Fine. I doubt that this great Fine, said the judge, went not without enhancing of the Rent, I pray you therefore tell me truly, should not my father have paid you more Rent, than this your Farmer doth: no truly, said the Gentleman, and if you will not trust me, I have the counterpane of the Lease, here to show: and with that, he took out of his bosom the Lease and showed it to the judge, wherein there was no more Rent to be paid, than the ancient and old Rent, which the Farmer confessed to be true: and then the judge, espying the end of a Paper stick out of his bosom, which was by the means of taking out his Lease, 
The hanging out of a Paper brought out the truth.  said to the Gentleman, what writing is that, that hangs out of your bosom: doth not that writing belong to your bargain? at which time he durst not answer for fear of lying, let me see it I pray you? said the judge: whereto the Gentleman was very loath, but there was no remedy▪ the judge would needs see it: which when the judge had red, he said to the Gentleman: here is a great Bill of debt, it seemeth hereby that my father oweth you a great deal of money, but I fear either you cannot, or will not tell wherefore he doth owe it you. This is a very strange debt that is one & xx. years a paying: I pray you tell me, wherefore doth my father own you thus much as is contained in this Bill? the sum is not so small, but that you may well remember what you sold him for it. Well seeing you will not speak, I smell wherefore it is: Farmer, said the judge, what Rent didst thou pay to this Gentleman every half year? forsooth said he, I paid ten Crowns at every half year: and at what days, said the judge, did you pay your Rent? Truly, said the Farmer, at Michaelmas, and at the Annunciation of Marie the Virgin. Now I perceive I guessed truly, said the judge, for it is manifest hereby, that this great Fine went not without enhancing of the Rent, for, as much Rent as is to be paid by the Lease every half year, so much, and every half year, at the same days and times during the Lease, is to be paid by this Bill: which apparently showeth, that this Gentleman hath racked his Rent as much more as it was. It is not for nothing, that the Cat winketh when both her eyes are out: so here it appeareth what was the cause that you and my father were so loath to undo your bergaine and grant. If this great Fine and this raising of the Rent had not been, you would not have been so earnest against this your Farmer, neither yet would you have denied me my request as you did: but now to be plain with you, whereas you thought that this Farmer was overcome and vanquished by your witnesses, and that he should lose his Farm, it is fallen out clean contrary, for the witnesses that you brought to confound him, have condemned you, through God's good providence. Therefore that, that I did, was by policy, to make you believe you had overcome this Farmer, to fetch you further in and to see how you would have used him if you had prevailed. Your denying of my request hath gained you nothing: for if you had gently inclined to my desire, & been willing to show this Farmer favour at my request (though he stood in no such need of it) perhaps I would not have sifted you so néerees I did. Thus you may learn, that the granting of a trifle at some time, 
It is true.  is better than performing of a weighty matter at another time. And now though you meant mischief to your Farmer: God hath turned it and much more to yourself. You thought to have undone him by enriching yourself, but you have not hurt him, but shamed and impoverished yourself. Though my father's covetousness made him offer you such a Fine: yet you should have had more wit, than to have received the same. O sir, said the Gentleman, there was a great fault in him, because he did offer it: then said the judge, as great a fault was in you, because you did take it. Then he said again, If he had not offered it, I should not have taken it. To whom the judge said again: And if he had thought you would not have received it, he would not have proffered it. You are a Gentleman, and as I understand, of good knowledge and learning, whereby you should rather have counseled him to goodness, than consented to him in wickedness. O sir, said the Gentleman, it was long ere I would yield unto him, and I told him all the danger of it. Then said the judge, you have bewrayed your own folly: hereby it appeareth that you were in more fault than he, 
Mark this.  that knew the dangers, and did fall into those dangers: a foul shame it were for one to give another warning of a pit, and to fall into the same pit himself. He committed that evil to which he enticed you: but you committed that mischief, which you advised him to shun. Then the judge called for his father to be brought before him, and when his father came, the judge said: O what an infortunate son am I, that must be enforced to give judgement against mine own father? natural affection willeth me to pleasure my father: but the obedience to my Prince doth persuade me to punish my father. I am so wrapped in the net of necessity, that there is no way to avoid the mischief. If I give judgement on this Gentleman as he doth deserve, and save my father from that he deserveth: then I shall not only be a partial judge, and so a false judge: but also I shall thereby procure mine own confusion. If I give true judgement, as a just judge ought to do, than many will detract me & speak evil of me, yea and when they see me go in the street, will point at me, saying: Behold the wicked and hard-hearted son, that gave cruel judgement against his own father. Well, of two evils the least is to be chosen, I were better to please God, and obey my Prince in judging truly, than to avoid slanderous reports of the witless by judging unjustly. O how loath I am to do that I am enforced to do. And with that, this young & notable judge began to wax very pale, and so swooned and fell out of his chair, whom every one then present thought to be dead.  Siuqila. 
But he died not (I hope) for it had been great pity he should, for that he was both wise, learned, & a righteous judge.  Omen. 
No, they recovered him at that time, but they were enforced to carry him home presently, as one liker to die than live.  Siuqila. 
What became then of the Gentleman, & his father?  Omen. 
They were both committed to prison until the next day, when another judge gave judgement against them. They had the law extréemly executed on them, for their making hurtful lies before the judge, 
A good judgement for those that hire Houses from their neighbours.  according as in our former talk I declared to you: besides that, the Gentleman for taking that Fine, and the judges father for giving the Fine, gave the fourth part of all their goods, whereof the King had the one half, & the other half was sold and equally distributed among their poorest neibors. And the judges father for hiring his neighbour's Farm with out his consent, and the Gentleman for letting it without his Tenants consent, had their Houses and Grounds belonging to them taken from them, and were let to their next poorest neighbour for the space of vij years. And because the Gentleman did dwell in his own fréelande, the Farmer thereof paid his Rent to the Gentleman's wife, for the maintaining of her and her children. And there was a proclamation made, that whosoever did let or set either House or Ground to either of them for the space of vij years, should forfeit their House they dwelled in, and the Ground belonging to the same, to the King. And moreover, the judges father did wear on his back and bosom for the said term of vij years, these words following: This man practised to put his neighbour out of his House.  Siuqila. 
Truly he had been better to have been content with his old, than in that sort to have hired a new House. Surely I like the law well, but I like the executing of it better: I beseech you tell me, had the Gentleman no more Houses to dwell in.  Omen. 
Yes he had one other of his own, else he should hardly have hired one: for few would have been his Landlord, thereby to make themselves no Landlords.  Siuqila. 
But what judgement was given on them for enhancing of the Rent?  Omen. 
Truly the Gentleman for the same was adjudged, to receive for vij years but one half of the Rents of all his Lands: and the other half was yearly so long employed on poor men's children, to train them up in learning. And the said two hundredth pounds that the judges father gave unto the Gentleman for a Fine, was equally given and distributed among the three witnesses that uttered the truth on the Farmer's side.  Siuqila. 
Out of doubt this matter was well and wisely handled, the young judge was worthy to be commended, the offenders had that they deserved, and the three honest witnesses were condignly rewarded. Our country is not altogether barren of good Landlords and Gentlemen, besides our famous and worthy Prince, which do take very easy Fines, & never enhance any Rents.  Omen. 
Then I perceive your Prince and such Landlords can lack no Tenants, no more than your great Benefices can lack Parsons or vicars. I would judge, that such as pay small Fines and have their Farms by the old Rent, that they are a great help to the poor Artificers that dwell nigh them.  Siuqila. 
Wherein do you think that they should be such help to them?  Omen. 
Forsooth in the selling of their corn, cattle, milk, butter, and cheese, with their other profits that do rise of their old rented Farms.  Siuqila. 
How so I pray you?  Omen. 
Because they do sell the same a great deal better cheap (as good reason is) than they do, that pay such great Fines and racked Rents.  Siuqila. 
In deed it were great reason they should so do, but they that have their Farms by the old Rent, do rather sell their corn and cattle more dear than the other: for they having no such need, 
Against reason.  do keep their corn and cattle, and other profits until they be more scarce and dearer, and so do sell the fame to the most advantage. Yea beside that, they are so greedy, that if they may have but one halfpennie in a Bushel ten or twelve miles off, they will carry it thither, rather than their neighbours shall have it that dwell within a mile of them, though sometime they have less there than they might have had at home. And the poor tenants, that pay great and excessive Fines, and racked Rents, are of necessity constrained to sell their corn aforehand, yea perhaps half a year before it be ripe, whereby for ready money they have not the half it is worth. And furthermore they are constrained daily to carry their commodities to the market, as soon as they are ready: so that theirs are all sold, and perhaps they are ready to buy, before the other that have their Farms by the old Rent begin to sell.  Omen. 
Surely it is pity it should be so suffered: there riseth a great inconvenience thereby. They that should help to ease the poor, are an occasion of impoverishing the poor: and they that have their Farms cheapest, do sell their commodities dearest.  Siuqila. 
It is so: they that keep their corn, butter, and cheese unto the last end, do say, that were it not for the keeping of their corn in store with their other profits, the markets would be unserved: so that it is for a Common wealth, and that therefore they are to be commended.  Omen. 
Their words show fairer than their deeds do declare. I would say that they meant well, and that they did it for a Common wealth, if they did sell then their corn and commodities by the same price (or cheaper) as the other sold theirs that first served the markets, or that were driven to sell soon, to serve their necessity. But because they sell them dearer, it is manifest that they keep their corn and commodities so long unsold, rather for their own gain, than for the commodity of their Country. Such an enormity would not be suffered with us.  Siuqila. 
That, and many more are daily permitted with us. Well, though your Country exceeds all the Countries in the World, for good Landlords: yet we have divers, as I said before, that are so godly and zealous, that they will neither raise their Rents, neither put out any of their tenants, unless it be for some great and worthy cause. And amongst all others I will tell you of one, whose example I would to God that many would follow.  Omen. 
You have told me of divers abuses in your Country, tell me now of one good example.  Siuqila. 
With all my heart. I heard it credibly told, that a noble man with us of great fame, of good report, and generally well-beloved, had a certain Tenant, who though he had his Farm without Fine, and by the old Rent, yet prospered but meanly ther●●: nigh whom, or not very far off, diwelled one more greedy than godly, 
An excellent example of a good Landlord  and more covetous than charitable, that went to the owner of the same Farm: who when he came to him, said: It may please your Honour to understand, that you have a Farm in such a place, and such a man dwelleth in it, if you will be so good as to let me be your tenant, I will give you thus much for a Fine. I can not let it unto you, said the owner of the Farm, for there is a Tenant in it already, whom I would be loath to put out. Sir, said the fellow, he is a very ill husband, and he doth not thrive on it: & surely I think he either doth not pay you his Rent, or else shortly I fear he will not be able to pay it. Trowest thou so? said the Lord of the Farm, belike he is an ill husband, for he hath his Farm cheap enough. Well, said the Nobleman, come to me such a day, and I will then talk further with thee. And so the same Caterpillar that desired his neighbour's Farm departed. After which the said Nobleman sent for his Tenant, to whom he said when he was come to him: sirrah I understand that you are a very ill husband, and can not thrive on the Farm that you have of me. And moreover that you do not pay me my Rent: and that within a while you will not be able to pay it, you run so far behind hand. I beseech your Honour, said the Tenant, to credit no further of me than I deserve: the truth is, & I must confess, that I have not much prospered on it, but the same is neither through negligence nor ill husbandry: for my stock is much decreased through the death of my cattle, besides many other great losses & hindrances that I have had: but as for your Rent, what shift so ever I made, I thank God, I have always paid it from time to time, and never have been behind withal, nor I trust never to be: which if you will not credit, your Bailie, I am sure, will not deny, but that he hath at every Rend day received it. Then said the Nobleman, if it be so as you say, I am the more glad. I am sure you paid no Fine for it, neither have I raised your Rent, therefore it would grieve me if you should not thrive on it, especially through evil husbandry. As for losses otherways, as the death of your cattle and other casualties, you must be content and give God thanks therefore: God can & will prosper you better when it pleaseth him: wherefore take patiently & thankfully what he doth send, for poverty and riches come both from him. And if you decay or be impoverished, so it be not by your own folly, you shall not want aid of me, therefore play the good husband. The Lord save your life, said his Tenant. Then said the Nobleman: thou mayst see I have dealt well with thee, for I have been offered roundly, to displace thee, which some would not have refused. And because thou shalt be sure this is true, come such a day to me, and thou shalt hear more: but be of good cheer, for neither money nor friendship shall allure me: & see thou fail not to be with me as I have appointed thee. Wherewith his poor Tenant was feign, and went merrily away.  Omen. 
What followed then? proceed on in your tale.  Siuqila 
At the day appointed they both came as he willed them, but before the greedy Fine-offrer came, the poor Tenant was placed privily behind a cloth, where he might hear what was said. And then the Nobleman said: welcome my friend, hast thou brought me the money that thou offeredst me for a Fine for my Farm? to whom he gladly answered, Yea sir that I have: to whom the Nobleman said, I perceive thou knewest I lacked money, & so I do in deed, it could not come in a better time than now. But I pray thee tell me one thing, is my tenant an unthrist or an ill husband that now hath it? Yea truly sir, said he, he is a very poor man, and far behind hand, and it is thought he will not in a while be able to pay the Rent. I tell you for good will & as you shall find it. If it be so, said he, I am beholding to thee: well, it is meet to have witnesses at our bergaine: and therewith his poor Tenant came from behind the cloth, who heard all that was spoken: whom when the other saw, he was something amazed, thinking then that all was not well. And then the Nobleman said to his tenant, you may see sirrah that I may have a good fine for my Farm of this man, whereas I had none of thee, who though he give me a Fine for it, yet hopeth to prosper on it, though thou without a Fine canst not prosper thereon. Besides that, this man telleth me that thou art not able to pay me my Rent: nay it should seem that it is unpaid already. Sir, said the poor Tenant, I have heard every word what he hath said, he speaketh it rather of malice to put me out of my Farm, than of any truth or good ground. I have tried that already, said the Nobleman. Then with an angry countenance he turned towards him, that offered him the Fine to put out his Tenant, 
Mark this saying.  and said: Ah varlet, hast thou such an opinion in me that money shall make me to do that which charity forbiddeth me to do? Didst thou ever hear, that I was lover of bribes, or an undoer of my Tenants, or so greedy of gain, that I would hinder the poor? How dared thou be so bold, to procure me to that, that I have always abhorred? Thou know'st that I have always desired to secure the poor, and thinkest thou that money can cause me to make my poor tenants beggars? Thou mightst judge that I were marvelously changed, to beggar my Tenants to enrich thee withal. What Devil did drive thee to dē●●●e this drift? I understand that thou hast too much living, and mor● than thou bestowest well: and this my poor tenant hath to little, and bestow & that w●ll that he hath. Such cut-throwe as thou art have money enough to undo your poor neibors withal, but you have none to do good: thou willingly wilt give twenty l. to thrust thy brother out of his Farm: but thou wilt 〈◊〉 to give twenty groats for the defence of thy Country. O if every one were of my mind, and regarded your money no more than I do: so many should not be thrust out of their Houses as be. Then the wicked Fine offerer said, I beseech you forgive me, I am sorry I have offended you, this shall be a warning to me as long as I live for going about to take any man's House or Farm from him. And then he was about to departed: nay, said the Nobleman, I will not so leave thee, thy fault deserveth not so to escape: oh that there were a Law to hang up such as thou, who in my conscience deserve more to be hanged, than the thief that doth steal for need. They steal through necessity, but thou and such as thou, steal with superfluity. And the thief through need doth rob a man of a little money in his purse, but thou and such as thou steals needless, and robs a man, his wife, and children of all the living they have. Therefore by your leave, you shall not escape my hands so.  Omen. 
What did he with him than I pray you?  Siuqila. 
He caused him to be openly set in the stocks, whereby his doings was not only blazed abroad, but also many wondered at him, for his uncharitable doing.  Omen 
I think none that heard of it would proffer any Fines to the worthy man, to displace any of his Tenants. Doth he that handled the Fine-giver thus, favour God's word or not?  Siuqila. 
Yea that he doth, and that mightily.  Omen. 
It appeareth God's word taketh root, and worketh great effect with some of your Country.  Siuqila 
With some say you? nay with a great sort thanks be to God, and I hope it will work more effect ere it be long. I would feign know of you, whether any of your Landlords, exact on their Tenants, to give them certain boon days to plough their ground: and to be ready when they command them, to help with their Weanes or Cartes to carry home their Wood, Hay, Corn, or other things when they stand in need.  Omen. 
Truly none with us know what boon days do mean, 
They of Mauqsun know not what boon days do mean.  none with us do trouble their Tenants, to carry any thing for them: for the Gentlemen and other of greater livings, have carriages of their own, to serve their own turn: for they think their Tenants stand more in need of help than they, marry they use their tenants so courteously, and love them so heartily, that their Tenants offer of their own good wills to help them with their carriage, but they most commonly refuse it, and will not suffer them to do it, unless in a time of great necessity, for they will not hinder their Tenants to pleasure themselves. They know that one days carriage (especially at some time) will hinder a poor man, therefore if they have not carriage enough of their own, to do their business, they will rather hire other men's Carts with their money, than to hinder their Tenants, 
Few Landlords do so.  to save their money: nay, there are many Gentlemen and other of higher degree with us, that have more Cartes and Ploughs, with cattle to furnish the same, than will do their own business, even purposely to aid and help their poor tenants and neighbours therewith, when they stand in need: and a poor man cannot so soon have an Ox, a Horse, or a Cow, miscarry, but well is he that can bring them first another Ox, Cow or Horse, to help their want withal.  Siuqila. 
And is this commonly used with you?  Omen 
Yea truly almost in every place.  Siuqila. 
And with us it is almost in never a place: I perceive that all degrees follow God's word so earnestly and zealously with you, that therefore it exceedeth all the countries in the world. I will not say but there may be some one good man here & there with us, that if a poor man have an Ox, Cow, or Horse, miscarry, whereby their Blow is like to stand still, or their children want milk, will lend them, or perhaps sell them upon a price, to be paid at a day, a Cow, Ox, or Horse, to supply their necessity: but to give them a Horse, Cow, or Ox in that case, I fear there are very few. Marry I think there are more, that are so greedy of their Rent or of their debts, that if a poor man be behind with his Rent, or lack money to pay his debts, will rather pluck away one of his Kine from him, or an Ox, or Horse from his Plough, whereby his Plough shall stand still, or his children want milk: of this sort I think we have more than of the other. I perceive then that the tenants with you are not much troubled with their Landlords, for carriage.  Omen 
No verily, I have told you the very use of our country therein. I would all the Tenants in your Country were no worse used in this behalf, nor in any other than ours be.  Siuqila. 
I would they were not: some of our Tenants would think they were well, if they were but half so well used. But though some with us be well used: yet I am sure that all with us will never so well be used. I will tell you a pretty story touching this matter if you will be content to hear it.  Omen. 
Yes I will both hear it, and mark it attentively: therefore begin it when you wil  Siuqila. 
There was a Nobleman had a great deal of timber or stone, to be carried, for certain buildings that he had in hand: whereupon he was constrained to send to all his Tenants that were any thing nie him, & other of his friends besides, to request them to help him with the carriage: which to do, some were very loath, & some promised with a fair outward show, though inwardly they were unwilling, but few or none durst denay, for fear of his displeasure: whereby at the day appointed he had a great company of Carts, that brought the stones or timber for his said building: & when they had all unloded, he called unto him them that came with the Carts one by one, saying unto them: I thank you my friends, for the pains and travel you have taken with me this day. And then he said to one of them: now tell me truly I pray you, whether did you help me with your Cart to day, for love or for money? forsooth my Lord said he, I came to you for good will & love: I thank you said he, carry him in and let him dine ere he go, (for he had prepared a dinner for all them that came to him for love & good will) & then he said to another of them: I pray you flatter not with me but tell me truly, whether you did come to help me this day, for love or for money? forsooth said he, I came to help your Lordship only for love and good will: I thank you said he even with all my heart: carry him in & let him dine ere he go. Then he asked another whether he came to help him for love or for money: my Lord said he, I am a very poor man, & I might very ill have come this day but for pleasuring your Lordship, therefore I came for money: & money shalt thou have said he, and god a mercy too: & then he gave him money for his labour: carry him in, said the Lord, & let him drink ere he go, & so he drunk ere he went. So that they dined that came for love, & they drunk & had money, that came for money, & thus he went through & asked a great sort: and some said they came for love, & some said they came for money. At last he came to one of the Carters, and said: I pray thee good fellow tell me truly, whether didst thou help me this day for love or for money? shall I tell you truly my Lord? said he: yea I pray thee heartily said the Lord: truly my Lord said he, I came for neither love nor money: didst thou not said the Lord, wherefore camest thou then? forsooth my Lord said he, I came for fear: now god a mercy good fellow, said the Lord, I think thou haste told me truer than all the rest, I perceive thou haste not fabled with me, though many of them have flattered with me: carry him in, said he, for he shall have both money and meat, and see in any wise that he sit at the upper end of the Table: and so he had both meat and money and great thanks of the Lord, for his true saying.  Omen. 
Now surely he was a good fellow, I dare say he spoke as he thought, whereas few of them thought as they said. There are many I think in your country, that help their Landlords with their Wanes and Cartes, more for fear than for money, & more for money than love: but all the Tenants every one in our country (none excepted) do help their Landlords only for love, and neither for money nor fear.  Siuqila. 
Surely it appeareth thereby (if you had said nothing else) that your Landlords are godly, and your tenants are loving. Now sir let me go further with you: do your Gentlemen and rich men take and enclose their Commons, from the poor Artificers, Labourers, or from them that dwell in small Tenements and Cattages?  Omen. 
I marvel why you do ask me such a question: I told you before that our Landlords and all other, did not only so remember the short sentence of Christ and follow it, (which is) Do as you would be done unto, that they will do nothing to their Tenants, nor to any other, but as they would that they should do to them: and do you think that if they were Tenants & their Tenants their Landlords, that they would wish they should enclose their Commons from them? no I warrant you. Nay our Gentlemen and Landlords, do not enclose their Commons from their poor tenants, 
The enclosing of the Commons in Mauqsun.  but enclose their Commons for their poor Tenants.  Siuqila 
That is very strange, I pray you let me hear your further meaning therein.  Omen. 
The taking in and enclosing of the Commons with us, is such a commodity to the poor tenants and Farmers, that they are marvelous desirous to have their 〈◊〉 enclosed.  Siuqila. 
And contrary, much enclosing of the Commons with us, is such an impoverishing of the poor Tenants and many Farmers, that nothing doth vex or grieve them more than the taking in of the Commons.  Omen. 
Yea, but if your Gentlemen, Landlords and your enclosers of Commons would do as they do with us, than your poor men, commoners & other Farmers, would desire to have their Commons enclosed and taken in as well as we.  Siuqila. 
I pray you tell me, after what sort therefore, is your Commons taken in and made several?  Omen. 
I will tell you: but first by the way, when politic heads and wise wits, had considered and found out, that it would be marvelous profitable for our country, to have their Commons enclosed, they began to procure to bring it to pass, but it seemed so hurtful to dull heads, for the poorer sort and the Farmers, that they in no wise would grant unto it, for that they had all the commodity thereby, and the Lords of the soil and Gentlemen had little or none: thinking they would have all or the best part from them, if they should be enclosed. But the Lords of the soil, and the Gentlemen with the wiser heads persuaded them, 
Good counsel.  saying: You see good fellows, and our loving Tenants, we have ever loved you and used you well, and as we would do to you, so we would have you to do to us, if we were in your case: be not therefore wedded to your wil●es, but rather regard good counsel and reason. We see you have among you much ground and little gain, much toil and small profit: Summer can scant get you that which Winter consumes: If each of you had but the third part of your ground enclosed, that you have now in Common, it would feed you more cattle, bring you more hay, yield you more corn, and last you much longer: whereby you should have more profit, and less pain, and more pleasure, and less toil. Some of you that have store of fodder, would stay from putting in your cattle into the Commons, until the grass were well grown, and fully sprung: other of you that have not to feed your cattle withal, will not consent to ●arry so long, being driven through necessity to put your cattle on the Commons before it have a head: so that suddenly you shove on such a number of cattle, on a great deal of ground, but a small deal of grass, that, what with their hungry eating, and their great trampling, your Commons is consumed in a month, the third part whereof enclosed, would have served well a quarter of a year. And whereas the one half of your Arable ground and Meadows, are common every year, for every man's cattle to go and feed on: if the same be enclosed and several to yourselves, your Meadows will bear you Hay every year: and you may sow your Arable land every year, or as oft as you list, according to the goodness of your ground: so that by this enclosure, you shall have yearly a marvelous commodity and profit, more than ever you had before. Wherefore, if you will be ruled by us, as you may well credit us, 
Few such Landlords.  (for we fear God so much, that we had rather hurt ourselves than hinder you) we that are Lords of your soil and Ground, will be content to set men on work, to enclose all your Commons and Ground in such parcels as we think meet: and we, of our own costs and charges, will pay for the enclosing thereof: partly for that we would have you to prosper and thrive on our Ground: and partly for that many of you have not money to lay out: and if we be too much burdened thereby, you may, if you shall think good hereafter, of your own good will, as you are able, (not that we can claim it of duty) something ease us. And if when it is enclosed, you mislike our dealings therein, or that we have not done unto you, as we would in the like case you should do unto us, throw down the ditches than a God's name, and keep it in common, as you did before. And when they had made an end of their saying, their Tenants hearing them speak so reasonably, & offering them such courtesy, said all with one voice: O worthy Gentlemen, and our most loving Landlords, do whatsoever seemeth good unto you: if you lack Ground or any thing that we have, take what you will, and leave us what you list, for we are sure you mean us no harm, but pretend our profit.  Siuqila. 
What did the Gentlemen and their Landlords then I pray you?  Omen. 
What did they say you? as though they would break their promise. Though you think that many with you promise much, and perform little: there are none with us but that will promise little and perform much. And therefore you need not doubt, but they did as they said: for when the time of the year did serve, they set a number of poor men on work, which did not only ditch it in such convenient parcels, pastures & closes as they did appoint: but also they did set the same with quicke-sets, and so they paid them their hire out of their own purses.  Siuqila. 
The quick setting of it might have been spared, until they had seen that their tenants would have liked well of their doings or distributing the Ground, or not.  Omen. 
No, they never doubted their misliking of it, for they were sure, that their tenants were so reasonable, so tractable, and of such contented minds, that they would not throw it down again, but accept their doings moste thankfully and lovingly.  Siuqila. 
So they might well enough: yet I believe there are some with us, 
Note here  so unreasonable, so insensible, so intractable, so incredible, so wilful, so mistrustful, preferring will before wit and custom before reason, and regarding their confused Commons, that bring poverty and pain, more than necessary enclosure, that bringeth profit and ease, that if wisemen should offer them so, or their Landlords should proffer them so, that would not take it thankfully, but refuse it obstinately. What distribution was made thereof among the tenants, when the same was enclosed?  Omen. 
Such as I am sure you will not mislike. The division of that enclosed was on this sort: every one according to the proportion and stint of the cattle allowed him to keep on the Common, (which stint was such, as that Commons should not be overcharged) had so much enclosed ground allotted and appointed to his house or Farm, as would very well keep and find so many cattle more, 
A good distribution.  as he was allowed or stinted to keep on the Commons: as if he might keep ten Kine or Oxen, he had so much ground of the enclosed common as would keep or find xx. kine or oxen: & if he might keep six horses on the Common, he had so much Common in pasture, as would keep or find twelve horses. And if one might keep an hundredth sheep of the Common, he had so much enclosed Common allowed him as would very well keep and find two hundredth sheep: And if a poor Cottager might by his stint keep a couple of Kine on the Common, than he had as much of the Commons enclosed annexed to his Cottage, and so to remain for ever, as would keep or find him four Kine. And thus every Farmer, and every Tenant, Cottager and other, had so much enclosed ground of the Commons allowed them to belong to their houses and Farms for ever, as would very well keep and find so many cattle more as he was allowed and stinted to keep on the bare unclosed Commons, and that such enclosed ground as lay most nearest and necessary to their house or Farm. And every Farmer and Tenant beside, had all their arable land and meadow enclosed that did belong to their Tenements and Farms, which before lay open and in common: so that by this enclosing of their ground, they had and have yearly, a marvelous commodity and profit, more than ever they had before. And for that thereby their commodities were so much increased yearly, out of every twenty acres of Meadow and arable land that belonged to any Farm, was taken and reserved one acre: and out of every ten acres, half an acre: whereof every Cottage that had neither arable land nor Meadow belonging thereto, had two acres of enclosed Arable land, and one acre of Meadow enclosed, annexed to the same, to find the poor Tenant bread corn, and Hay to succour his Cows or other cattle withal.  Siuqila. 
Hereby it seemeth, that the Lords charges of the soil was very great, in the enclosing of all these Commons and other ground.  Omen. 
Their charges were not so great, but the gains were greater: for all the rest of the enclosed ground that did remain, the Lords had the same freely to themselves: which besides the great profit to the Tenants, was no small commodity to them. For some Lords of the soil, had within their Lordships, two or three thousand acres of waste or common ground, whereof none knew any particular portion belonging to their house or Farm, which before was little or no profit to the Lords of the soil: but being enclosed it was no small portion that came to their share. And thus they got themselves much ground which they never had before: and made their Farmers and tenants livings better than ever they were.  Siuqila. 
Surely this order of enclosing of the Commons in your Country, 
The commodity of enclosing in Mauqsun.  is a great gain to the Lords, an enriching of the tenants, an increasing of corn, a great breeding of cattle, a pathway to plenty, an augmenting of wood, a power to your Prince, a strength to your country, and a common commodity. But let me ask you one thing: In some Lordships perhaps (where the ground is very fertile) there is little or no Commons, but arable and Meadow, with small portions of grass ground, which are portions appointed or limited to Farms and Tenements: so that there was little or nothing to spare for the Lord.  Omen. 
There, every tenant doth enclose his own ground, of their own charges: yet their landlords, if they lack money, do lend them money therefore, until they be able to repay them again: & the Landlords are so godly and good, that of their own costs and charges, they commonly do enclose the Meadow and Arable land that is taken out of the same, appointed to the Cottages, as is before mentioned.  Siuqila. 
Truly it is a very godly deed, but I fear the greatest mischief is behind: for it is to be thought, that the Lords do raise the rents of their Farms and Houses, to whom these new commodities do belong.  Omen. 
Trust me, these Farmers and Cottagers, though they have greater profits and commodities than they had before, do pay neither Fine, neither any more Rent than they did. Do you think that the tenants with you, could be content to have their Commons turned into pasture in this order, as we have ours?  Siuqila. 
Yea I warrant you: but our Landlords, or rather Lords of the Commons, will not be in haste to do as yours do, though it would be a very great commodity to them. Our enclosers of the Commons are not so kind hearted as yours, for they must have all or none: many of them have so enclosed the Commons, 
Greedy enclosers.  that they have closed themselves in, and shut all the rest out: but if they would take enough for themselves, and leave part for every one of their tenants, as your enclosers of the Commons do, many that are now most earnest against enclosing of the Commons, would then be vehement procurers for the enclosing for the Commons. Surely, their insatiety is far contrary to true Christianity. As the Commons are now used: they have nothing, and their tenants have something: 
Mark this well.  but if they could be content with reason, or with less than all, they might have too much, and their tenants enough. What harm were it for them to have an C. acres more than ever they had, & their poor needy neighbours to have an acre or two more than they have? what were they that worse to suffer their neibors to have a simple breakfast, & themselves to have a sumptuous dinner? truly, they are more than churlish that will either eat all, or else eat not at all: or else will not feed unless their neighbours fast.  Omen. 
They would evil do, as many do with us, that dwell in towns, whereto there belongeth no Commons.  Siuqila. 
What do they I pray you?  Omen. 
If a poor Artificer have many children, or a greater charge than he is able to maintain with his trade, by & by one goodman or other will buy him a cow or two, & give him them.  Siuqila. 
It is very charitably done, but how shall he do for grass to keep them?  Omen. 
He may better hire grass having Kine, than to buy Kine, and hire grass beside.  Siuqila. 
That is true, he may so indeed.  Omen. 
Yea, but this good man doth not leave him so, for if he have no grass nor pasture of his own, he will hire sufficient grass for them & pay for the same: & also buy Hay with his own money, to feed them withal in winter. They that would enclose all the Commons from their tenants and the poor, will not, I trow, be taken with such a fault as this.  Siuqila. 
No I warrant you, they, their wife and children should perish rather. Sir, you have told me of many famous, wife, and godly judges of your country, is there never a corrupt judge to be found in all your whole land?  Omen. 
No not one, it is as hard to find a corrupt judge with us, as a good Usurer with you.  Siuqila. 
There cannot be a good Usurer with us, nor in any other place.  Omen. 
Neither can there be an evil or corrupt judge with us: for the short sentence of Christ (which is, Whatsoever you would that other do to you, do even the same to them) is so graven in their hearts, that it bridleth them from bribes, & winds them from wrong. And because Christ persuadeth them to do it, therefore they perform it. Besides that, reason teacheth them, that if they were oppressed or had wrong, & the oppressed were judges, them they would be willing to have their matter heard with equity, prosecuted without bribery, and determined speedily. And though our judges be such, yet we have a very severe law for the punishing of partial bribing and corrupt judges.  Siuqila. 
I beseech you show me the law therein.  Omen. 
Our law is, 
The law of Mauqsun for judges that take bribes.  that if any judge take any bribe or reward, or any other for him by his consent, for any matter depending, or to depend before him, and doth conceal it four and twenty hours, and so judge contrary to equity on the party's behalf that gave him the reward, he shall die for it without any redemption. His death shall not be according to the execution of the common offenders: For first his hand shall be cut off, wherewith he received the bribe or reward: which hand shall be nailed on the seat or chair where he did sit, to fear the judges that shall sit there after him to do the like: And his tongue shall be cut out of his head, and shall be nailed just over against the judges seat, and this shall be written under it: This is the tongue of the wicked judge that gave false judgement: that the judges that shall sit there after him, may thereby beware.  Siuqila. 
Your law herein is very severe: yet surely corrupt and bribing judges are worthy to be so served.  Omen. 
How many judges hands and tongues are nailed in your judges seats?  Siuqila. 
Not one.  Omen. 
It every judge with you had been thus used, that have rewards or bribes in this case, for wresting the right and wring with the wrong, but for the space of four or five hundredth years now passed, and let all the rest go: I fear that few of your judges seats would have escaped without a hand or a tongue: but your laws herein are not so strait as ours: and if they were, they would not be so well executed.  Siuqila. 
You never spoke a truer word in your life: proceed I pray you, how is the rest of their execution?  Omen. 
Forsooth all the gold and silver, that he shall receive to do wrong or to judge contrary to equity, shall be melted, and then his mouth shall be holden open, and it shall be powered down into his throat: whereby the money that he took to defraud the Innocent of their right, shall bercave the covetous and wicked judge of his life.  Siuqila. 
The money might be put to a better use than so, & not to be lost on that sort.  Omen. 
It was not to be so lost, but that it will be found again I warrant you: for though it kill the wicked, it doth pleasure the honest and needy: for when he is dead, the same gold and silver is taken out of him, and sold by weight to the Goldsmith, which shall be given to him that did reveal it.  Siuqila 
Now surely, though this law seem severe, yet me thinks it is necessary: for what thing is more audible to God, and more hurtful to man? than suppressing of right, and perverting of justice? and what law can be too extreme for the offenders therein? and is not bribes or gifts, the mean to this mischief? for Munera peruer●ūt justiciam, G●ftes pervert justice▪ now if gifts, bribes, or (as some call them) gentle rewards, is one of the chiefest causes of this wickedness, than no law can be to severe, for such bribed or corrupt judges. Oh if all judges would well way and consider the great oaths they take, and the marvelous charge is given them, when they are made judges: they would (if they had any spark of the fear of God, or were not utterly determined to go to the Devil) abhor bribes, refuse rewards, revile the bribegivers, nay punish such offerers, hear the poor willingly, determine their cause speedily, use no partiality, and give judgement with all equity. Well, though some judges have little regarded this: the judge of all judges will one day do this. But sir, is there no Law with you for them, that do offer or give bribes?  Omen. 
Yes that there is, and I think a better law than any you have in such case. Whosoever offereth or giveth any gift or reward, 
For bribe-givers.  to any judge for any matter depending, or after to depend before him, shall forfeit the one half of all his goods, and the judge to whom the gift is offered or given, shall have it freely to himself, if he reveal the same within a day after. And if he do not so reveal it, than the first revealer or bewrayer thereof, shall have it. And the King shall have ●ne fourth part of his forfeited goods: & he against whom the bribe or gift is given, shall have another part: and the other half shall be sold, & equally given among the poorest neighbours of him, that offered or gave the reward.  Siuqila. 
If we had such a law with us, & so well executed as yours, there would not be so many gifts given, to pervert right as there be. But sir, may not one write to the judge, in the behalf of his friend, to request him to be good unto him?  Omen. 
We have a law, that whosoever writeth to the judge, or speaketh to him in the behalf of any in this case, he that so doth write or speak (except as a witness in the same matter) he shall be imprisoned three months. And shall find, on his own cost & charges, two of the poorest prisoners of the same prison, meat & drink, during all the same time. And if the judge to whom he doth so write or speak, do not reveal the same within xxiv. hours, he shallbe displaced out of his office, & also shall find, on his own cost & charges, two children of his poorest neighbours during a year after.  Siuqila. 
Out of all doubt this is a worthy and necessary law: I would we had the like with us, and so well executed as your laws are: and if it were sharper it were not amiss: For there have been more matters delayed, more judgements staid, more falsehood bolstered, more true matters wrested, and more poor Clients hindered, through letters, and sending of rings and tokens, with us in one month, than there is with you in a hundredth years.  Omen 
I believe you very well: but there is a great fault in them the send such letters or tokens to the judges, & a great fault in the judges that accept them: but a greater fault for satisfying them that sent them. I told you, in our first talk, of a worthy judge that received a letter in the behalf of his friend, who feeling by the weight that it was a briber's letter, and knowing it was only to wry with the wrong: he put it up into his bosom, & would never look on it, before he had given judgement on him, on whose behalf it was sent.  Siuqila. 
I remember it very well, you told it me at my first being with you: surely he was a famous judge: if judges would not read the letters, in such case sent unto them, or wink as though they had not read them, until they determine the matter, or pass judgement thereof, so many matters that have passed by law on poor men's sides, should not be so long without their right as they are. I heard a woman say with weeping eyes, that she had a matter hanged in the law seven years, before it could be tried and pass on her side, and it was then eight years after, and yet could not have judgement thereof. So that she thought, yea and said, that one that comforted and promised her fair, was the chief occasion of her stay from her right: but I believe that he hath sped never the better therefore. A pitiful thing: if it were her right by the law, why should judgement be stayed? and if it were not her right, why did the law give it her? Surely before God, it is as great a fault, to keep one from his right, as to defraud one of his right: doth not he withhold a man's right, that will not give him judgement, whereby to have his right? At the last day God will not delay the time, between the trial of our sins, and his definitive sentence, as some of our worldly judges have done: for as soon as he shall say to the wicked, When I was hungry you gave me no meat, when I was thirsty you gave me no drink, when I was naked you clothed me not, etc. And as soon as they shall say: we never saw thee hungry, thirty, naked, etc. by and by he will give judgement on them, and will not stay judgement three or four years after, neither for letters, bribes, rings, nor for any man's pleasure: at which time he will say: Go ye accursed into everlasting fire prepared from the beginning. So that hereby it appeareth, that he will give judgement most quickly & speedily, both on the wicked and godly, as soon as their cause is tried and determined. Therefore the judges of the earth, were best to learn of Christ to give righteous and true judgement, as soon as any cause is truly tried by the law: for if Christ did think that it is necessary & good to stay judgement, than he will do it. And though Christ shall have many thousand thousand matters to decide and judge at the last day, he will decide, end and judge them all in one day: but some earthly judges have had some one matter hang before them four or five years, and yet when it was ended, and the Law hath determined it, it hath been as long (perhaps longer or not at all) ere he hath given judgement thereof. Many live not a twelvemonth after they have begun the Law, and can a man be sure to live a dozen year, to see his matter ended? the great delays, long suits, and unreasonable expenses, make many that are marvelously oppressed and have manifest wrong, either not to begin the Law, or through their importable charges, (which they are not able to continue) are enforced to cease the law, which their adversaries, that maintain themselves with their goods, know well enough.  Omen. 
Yea but we have a notable Law with us, for judges, that keep matters long before they end them, or give judgement on them.  Siuqila 
I beseech you show it me, for such a law is very necessary.  Omen. 
If any matter whatsoever it be, 
A law in Mauqsun that no matter shall hang in suit above three months.  be not determined & judged within three months, after the Bill of complaint be once answered, the judge before whom the same dependeth, (if it be through his default or negligence) shall immediately upon just proof, be not only displaced out of his said room, or office, and never permitted again to be judge: but also therefore shall be imprisoned for the space of one whole year: besides that, he shall forfeit the one half of all his goods: & the party whose matter was so delayed & prolonged, shall have the one half thereof, and the other half shall be sold, and the money shall be equally distributed, among poor Suitors, having then matters or causes, in the same Court, to help to relieve them, and to prosecute matters withal.  Si. 
What a worthy country have you? you have a medicine for every mischief. I would we had the like with us, i● it might conveniently be: but our judges sit but at certain times, and many of the parties that have matters before them, dwell so far off, and besides that, they are troubled with so many matters, that it is impossible for them to end every matter in so short a time.  Omen. 
Yea but if you had as we have, 
A good & easy order for t●yall of matters speedily.  than they might end them easily within that time as we do. For we have throughout our whole country certain judges appointed and limited for certain towns, villages, and parishes, and none dwelling in these towns or parishes shall sue or commence any cause in any Court but only in that limited and appointed unto them. And also the judges, or some of them do sit every day twice: that is, three hours in the forenoon, and three hours in the afternoon (except certain days) and the matter is so ordered, that never a man, woman, or any that have any matter or cause to commence or to complain, shall therefore go above a dozen miles at the furthest: whereby the judges may very easily determine and judge every cause, be it never so doubtful, within that time.  Siuqila. 
Surely you make all your orders and laws with a marvelous good consideration: but it may be, that the matters are delayed through far dwelling of the witnesses, or through their purposed absence, so that the judges are not to be blamed therein.  Omen. 
That is true: but who so ever are to bear witness for any matter with us, shall never need therefore to travel far, but shall be deposed and examined before those judges within whose precinct they inhabit or dwell: and for every time that any such witness, shall make default and not appear before the said judges, to be deposed and examined upon such interrogatories or articles (if they be not sick or impotent) they shall forfeit therefore one hundredth pounds: or if they be not worth so much, than the one half of all their goods: the one moiety whereof the party shall have (for whose hindrance they refuse to bear witness) and the other part shall be equally divided among the judges, before whom they should have been deposed and examined. And if the witnesses be poor, and have little goods or none, they shall be imprisoned, until they be deposed and examined touching the same cause. And likewise if any of the said witnesses have any matter or cause to be tried by witnesses during the same time which they so refuse to be deposed and examined, no witness shall be suffered or permitted, to be deposed nor examined in their behalf.  Siuqila. 
O famous Country, O worthy Lawemakers, but most worthy Law observers: happy is that King that hath such Subjects, that live as though they needed no Law. But what if any of them that should bear witness, take bribes, money, or gifts, whereby they refuse to be deposed or examined?  Omen. 
You need not ask that question, there is none such with us: have you any such with you?  Siuqila. 
Have we any such, quoth you? if I need not ask you the one, you need not ask me the other: for whereas you affirm that you have none such, I am out of doubt that we have many such.  Omen. 
If you had such a Law, and so executed as we have, than you would not have so many such as you have.  Siuqila. 
What is your Law for such, I pray you?  Omen. 
Forsooth the same Law is for them, that is for the judges that receive bribes or rewards. Their hand they received the Gift or Reward withal, shall be cut off: and their tongue shall be cut out, because they would not utter the truth therewith, and shall be nailed in the Court where they should have been examined, to make all the other witnesses take heed of taking Bribes or Rewards. And lastly, the money shall be melted, and so poured into their throats, and they shall be so killed as the bribed judges ought to be.  Siuqila. 
But what if their Gift or Bribe be no money, how then?  Omen. 
Then the same shall be sold, and the money received therefore, shall be melted and given them to drink.  Siuqila. 
A small deal of such drink will quench their thirst. If every one in our Country that have deserved such a draft of drink by your Law, had drunk it: so many true matters would not be suppressed as there have been, nor so many false causes could not carry that credit they do. Because you can tell me of no Bribed judges with you, whereon to execute this your late told excellent Law: I will tell you of a most wicked judge, of whom I heard by the way as I traveled hither, that was dressed even as he deserved: who was as young as the judge you told of, that bolted out the truth against his own father, but nothing so good as he was.  Omen. 
Tell it, and I will give you the hearing: I know you will not report it unless it were true, nor yet stand about to tell it, unless it were strange.  Siuqila. 
There was a very young man, not very far from the Country where I was borne, 
A notorious example of a detestable judge.  who for his great learning, rare wisdom, commendable conditions, and modest manners, was, by the Magistrates and Rulers of that Country, chosen to be a judge, who used himself for a while in his Office, so uprightly and so godly, to the judgement of every one, that none but were glad that they had such a judge. In whose time, there happened two Gentlemen to be very conversant together, and to love one another dearly, even as though they had been sworn brethren: and whiles they were in this friendship, the one of them began to cast his love an a certain Gentlewoman, who being a great suitor unto her, and yet could not obtain her love as he wished, began to languish for her love, and was so sad and sorrowful thereby, that the other Gentleman his dear friend, did not only much muse and marvel thereat, but on a time, enforced through very sorrow to speak unto him, he said thus, or the like: Sir, I thought you had esteemed me above all other, but now I perceive, that you love some other better than me. What occasion, said the other, have you to say so unto me? Have I depraved you to any man? you know my secrets more than any: and you have my company more than any: and these are not tokens that I love any better than you. Well said the other, though these do argue, yet do they not prove. Your body is sick, as it is like, for you eat little or nothing, your sleep is taken from you, and your mirth is clean gone, which if they be not arguments that your body is sick: then they are manifest proofs that your mind is not well. And if your body be sick and you hide your disease from me, or if you be sick in mind, and conceal the cause from me, especially from him that you know will not spare the best blood in his body to heal your body, nor his goods, counsel, nor travel, to ease your mind: then I must needs think (say you what you will) that you love me not as you profess, nor esteem me as I deserve. Then said his friend again: I know you love me, and therefore I love you again, and that is, as well as myself. If you do so, said the other, than you ought to let me know what so ever you know yourself: unless you think that yourself will bewray yourself, except you doubt yourself will deceive yourself, and unless you think that yourself will betray yourself. Nay that followeth not, said the sorrowful Gentleman: for though I love you as myself, that maketh not that you love me as yourself: be not angry I beseech you, I speak this rather to answer your argument, than that I doubt your love. In deed there are very thoughtful matters in my mind, I would I had changed them for diseases of my body. And for that I have kept them close, to my great grief, I will now reveal them to you, as to my chiefest friend, I hope to my comfort: not doubting, but that as I tell you where my pain is, so I hope you will procure some plaster to ease it. Then his friend said, both vehemently, and as it seemed, faithfully: I protest here before God and you, if my pains may pleasure you, or if my purse may profit you, assure yourself of it, and lo here is my hand: if I may know the root of the thing that worketh you this sorrow, I will pluck it up, (and that with speed) if all my strength be able to do it. Well, said the other, seeing you say so, I will no longer hide from you the woe that doth wound me. You know that I said not long since, that I loved you as well as myself, but now I must confess unto you, that I love another better than myself: yea, and such a one, that I fear when she knoweth it, she will rather frown than favour me, hate than help me, and cut me up than comfort me. If I may know her name and where she dwelleth said his friend, I hope I will find a salve that will heal this sore: oh if you could, said the other again, I would never forget your friendship. And then he uttered her name, & where he should have her. Seeing said he, you are in such a perplexity for her, I will not tarry the writing of a letter, but let me have your Ring for a token: but I pray you first tell me, are you well acquainted with her? very well, said the sorrowful Gentleman, and she loveth me very well: but I fear, not so well as to marry me. I am glad you have told me thus much, said his friend▪ I will not therefore tell her that you are sick for her love, but of some other malady, and desire her to come and speak with you: who not knowing the matter, I doubt not but I shall persuade her at first. Then said the sorrowful Gentleman: if I doubted no more of her love, than I doubt of her coming, I know I should be hole of my disease within this hour: what, said the other, do you think she will come so soon? yea I am sure of that, said he, if you deliver her my Ring, but in any wise tell her not that I am lovesick: no I warrant you, said the other. And so he went to the Gentlewoman with speed.  Omen. 
I pray you what good news did he bring again?  Siuqila. 
For want of good news he brought the Gentlewoman herself: who wept for sorrow, that he was so sick.  Omen. 
It seemed by her speedy coming, and by her sudden weeping, that she loved him well.  Siuqila. 
Yea and better than he thought, and after as well as he wished: but at that time though she favoured him inwardly, she showed it not outwardly, but as one friend would do to another. At which time the sick Gentleman said: surely Gentlewoman, I must needs think myself much beholden to you, for this your speedy coming to me: but a great deal more for so quickly easing me. Many Physicians cannot help their patients though they take their medicines: but you have half cured me without any medicine: therefore I must say, though your cunning be not great, yet your luck is very good. Sir said she, I have half cured you without knowing your disease, & without giving you any medicine, than it is very like I should thoroughly cure you, if I knew your grief, and did minister unto you. That is very like, said he: and seeing your physic doth so much ease me at the beginning of my diseases, I mean you shall be my Doctor still unto the end of my sickness. Sir, said she, if only my coming without cunning can help you, you shall not long lie sick. Then said he again: if my service may pleasure you, you shall not long lack a faithful servant. I thank you for that, said she: and therewith she gave him his Ring, that he sent unto her. Nay, said he, you offer me now discourtesy, though it be not a sufficient recompense for your coming, yet I beseech you keep it, until you have a better reward: for seeing Physicians take as much as this of their patients, for their coming to them, though they do them no good, than you deserve a great deal more than this, that with this your once coming have half cured your patient. You know sir, said she, that gentlewomen use not to take money for their Physic: no more do I, said he, offer you any, a gold Ring is no money: and though you will not take it for a reward (though you have deserved it for such a speedy cure) yet I beseech you take it with you and wear it, that thereby you may remember to come and see your patient. I am content with that, said she, so that you will take another Ring of me, that when you begin something to wax strong, you may remember to come and see your Physician. I am very well pleased with that, said he: and so they made a change, and one of them to●e another's Ring, and then for that time the Gentlewoman his Physician took her leave, and so she departed.  Omen. 
The best learned Doctor of them all, could not have eased him so speedily, and cured him so quickly as she did. When he sent the Ring to the Gentlewoman, he thought she would not be so easily won to be his Physician, though he knew her cunning was able to cure him: I doubt not, but if his Physician plied him as she began, he was not long in curing.  Siuqila. 
You may be bold of that, for the same night he fell to his meat, and was so suddenly merry, that every one that saw him, before like for to die, so suddenly ●euiued and most like to live, did marvelously muse thereat. But the Gentleman that carried his Ring to the Gentlewoman, and brought her with him, was not very merry: whom the other gentleman his friend comforted as well as he could, saying: my friend be merry, and whatsoever I am able to do for you be bold of me, and I will recompense your gentleness if I be able, I would be loath you should be sick. Then he feigned that he was not sick, but that his head ached a little. The morning next after, the Gentleman that carried his Ring, and that feigned himself sick, went to the said Gentlewoman: how doth my patient? said she: very well, said he: you wrought an excellent and a speedy cure of him: I would to God you could help me so quickly: what are you sick? said the Gentlewoman: yea, said he, and therefore I am come to crave your help: though I helped him said she, more by chance than by cunning: yet perhaps your disease must be helped rather by cunning than by chance. And I do not think that you have his disease: yes verily even the very same: yet (said she) though your disease and his be all one, perhaps your complexion and his are contrary. I am like the grimde Priest, for as he could say matins on no portuse but of his own, so I can help no complexion but one: therefore, said she, you were best to seek you another Physician, for I am sure that I cannot help you: and take this for an answer, if I could I would not help you. The best counsel that I can give you is, in any manner of wise to take heed that you get not cold, for fear of coughing: and thus far ye well, for I mean to minister no more medicines to day: and so she whipped away from her new patient, whom I think she made rather an impatient.  Omen. 
She was a good wise Gentlewoman, she smelled quickly wherefore he came: he feigned that he would have her minister to him: but his meaning was to have ministered to her. He had quickly forgot his faithful promise to his friend: but tell me came she again to visit her patiented?  Siuqila. 
Yea that she did, within three or four days after.  Omen. 
It was marvel that the patiented went not to the Physician, seeing the Physician tarried so long from the patiented.  Siuqila. 
His old grief began newly to grow, for lack of his physicians Counsel or rather company: whereby he was urged to go to her, who bade him welcome merrily, and asked him how he did pleasantly: whom he answered again: I am better than I was, when you came to me, but not so well as I was when you went from me: I knew that your honesty was so good, and your care so great to perform your promise, that you would not give over your patient, that you had promised to cure: wherefore I feared lest you had been sick, & thereby constrained to absent yourself, thinking that though many have cunning to help other, yet they have least knowledge to cure themselves. Wherefore though it be something painful, and dangerous for me to come far, yet I was so bold to adventure, lest I should perish for want of Physic. Sir, said she, you could not die for want of physic, seeing the City is so full of Doctors of physic. Then said he: there is no Physician doth like me so well as you, neither any can give me so good medicines as you: & moreover you have one good property that many of them have not, for many of them take money and do no good: but you do good and take no money. I am glad, said she, you like me so well: and therefore, because you have so good opinion in me, you shall not want my travel nor pain thoroughly to cure you, at the least if it lie in my power: yes said he, it only lieth in you and in none else. Sir then, said she, if I chance to cure you of this disease (as I do not doubt but I shall,) I trust you will not use me currishly for my using you courteously: neither seek at any time a new Physician, in your health to make you sick, and refuse your old Physician, that when you were sick made you whole? No, said he, if ever I do so, I would not wish to be helped of any disease if I chance to be sick. Well sir, said she, your word to me is as good as a bond: therefore if you will go with me into the next Chamber, where three or four of my special friends are, I will give you such a medicine before them, that you shall never be sick of the same disease again. Say you so? said he, your words have so comforted me, that I feel myself almost hold already. If my words, said she, have made you almost hole, I trust then my medicine will make you thoroughly hole. And then she carried him into the Chamber where her friends were, and there they were betrothed together: which medicine was of so great effect, that it cured him perfectly and presently.  Omen. 
But did the Gentlewoman tell him how his friend had served him?  Siuqila. 
That she did not, she had more wit than so: for if she should, she feared that it would have renewed his Sickness. Therefore she thought it better, to increase his health by concealing it, than to procure his grief by revealing it.  Omen. 
I pray you proceed, for I think long to hear the sequel.  Siuqila. 
Within a while after, the Physician and patient were married together: wherewith the Gentleman whom her husband took for his faithful friend, was not well pleased: and though he requested him to be at his marriage, yet he absented himself, feigning himself sick of one disease, though he were sullen of another. But the Gentlewoman knew his grief well enough, though she concealed it from her husband, who on a time said unto her: My dear & faithful friend is marvelous sad, whatso ever he aileth: if he be sick, I would I could ease him: if he want aught, I would I could give it him: & if any hath misused him, I would I knew him. Sir, said she, do you think he is your faithful friend in deed? Yea that I do, said he, and whoso ever should say the contrary of him, I should like the worse of them. Then you would like the worse of me, said she, if I should say so? I take you as myself, said he, and I myself would speak nothing of him but that were true, whereas I might surmise other would say that were false. Be sure sir, said she, that whatsoever I speak, I would be able to prove. And certainly, though I cured your disease, as you know by practice: so I am certain I know his disease by speculation. I am glad of that wife, said he, for when the disease is known, it is sooner cured. Yea but, said she, his disease can not be cured though it be known: and though he was a mean to cure you of your grief, yet it lieth not in your power to help him of his disease. That is against reason, said he, it seemeth then that he hath a very strange disease. So strange it is, said she. His sickness is such, that within this month no man on the earth could help him: and now his grief is so far grown, 
Mark this.  that neither man nor woman can cure him. You know that your disease was such, that you could be holp by none but by me: and as no medicine could cure you but one, so that medicine could be made but once. And what if your supposed friend have the self same disease that you had? would not he desire the same medicine? And you know, you had that medicine to cure you withal, and it can not be made again. And if I could make that medicine again, as I can not, yet I would not make it, nor bestow that only medicine on him. And therefore seeing his disease and yours is all one, and the only medicine bestowed on you that would heal him: then he must either mend without medicine, or end for lack of a medicine. Wife, said he, though you speak parabolically, yet I understand your meaning perfectly: but I pray you, know you this by proof, or by hearsay? said he. Trust me, I know it by trial, said she. Hath the Uilleine, said he again, under colour of friendship, gone about to defraud me? Could he so falsify his faith, that I having but one jewel in all the world, he would steal it from me? Ah husband, said his wife, if I had thought you would thus have taken it, I would have been better advised before I told it. I uttered it unto you, to shun a dissembler, not to fret at your foe. Wisdom willeth us to hear things advisedly, to take them patiently, and to mend a mischief politicly, or if it be passed help, to avoid the like wisely. Therefore good husband, take him as you find him, scrape him out of your Book of faithful friends, and write him in the scroll of false forsworn dissemblers. Your counsel wife, said he, is very good, if I could follow it: but my heart is so full, that the next time I see him I will be revenged on him. Then his wife with weeping tears, fell down upon her knees, and said unto him: O husband, will you wound her that hath healed your wound? Will you give her poison that hath given you a preservative? And will you procure her death that hath saved your life? Remember your promise unto me that you made before we were betrothed. Wife, said he, I both remember it, and will perform it: the wounding of mine enemy is not the hurting of my friend: my friend doth not feel the smart of my foe: therefore if I cut my enemy, yet I wound not my wife. Yea sir, said she, but if you kill your foe, do you not kill yourself? And if you kill yourself, shall you not kill your most loving wife, which is your own body & yourself? Can furious fighters so moderate themselves, that they can strike where they little, and hurt no more than they mean? And can fury persuade them, to stay their strokes when they list? You know that few fight with patience, nor strike with reason. Anger and reason seldom dwell together, the one can not abide the other: Where Anger is, he driveth away Reason, and where Reason is entertained, he doth drive from thence Fury. But if Fighters were fenced with Reason, as they are armed with Anger, than so much harm would not come of fight as doth. Therefore my good husband, seeing Fighters seek rather to shed blood than save blood, I beseech you take heed you fight not, neither give any quarrel to fight. You know if you fight and kill, you shall be sure to die therefore: and if he that you fight withal kill you in fight, what are you the better though he be hanged therefore? There is none so mad I think, that would be killed to have their foe hanged: and thus, if you kill or be killed, were not your sorrowful wife better to be killed with you, than in sorrow worse than death to live after you? Therefore my dear husband, hear the good counsel of your most loving wife. Banish anger and embrace patience: expel fury and be ruled by reason. Content yourself wife, said he, for your sake, I will refrain from that I was determined. Will you perform that, said she, in deed, that you promise me with your word? Yea that I will, said he, you have given me too wise a lesson, to fight with such danger. And so they left off for that time.  Omen. 
Did he perform the promise he made to his wife?  Siuqila. 
He did not, though perhaps he meant to perform it. For within a while after, it was his chance to meet the said Gentleman, that would have been cured with his medicine: whom when he saw, he drew forth his Sword, and without any further debating of the matter, he fought with him, and so at the length killed him.  Omen. 
His wives wise talk was manifested by this: he had been better to have performed his promise that he made to her. What a mischief thereby wrought he to himself, and what sorrow brought he to his wise and loving wife? It was marvel that it killed her not, as soon as she heard it.  Siuqila. 
Truly when she heard that her husband was in prison, and what was the cause, she swooned presently: and they that were about her had much a do to get any life in her. Was not here a goodly gain that he got by his fighting? As she said, neither patience nor reason was with him, when he gave the other his deaths wound. Here we may see that all wisdom lies not in men, and all folly and mischief is not in women. But after, like a wise woman, she bridled her sorrow as well as she could, and went about to mend the mischief aswell as she might, according to the lesson she gave her husband before, which is this: Wisdom willeth us to hear things advisedly, to take them patiently, to mend mischiefs politicly, 
A saying to be noted.  or if they be passed help, to a●oide the like wisely. And so with as much convenient speed as she might, she got her to the said young judge before mentioned, in whom (for his wisdom, godliness, and piety,) she had such a good opinion, that she thought through her humble suit and pitiful moan, he would find some one mean or other to save her husbands life. And when she came before him she kneeled unto him, and with weeping tears said: O worthy judge, as you are counted a most wise and merciful judge, now show that in effect, which is bruited of you in talk: and save an Innocents life that lieth in your hands to destroy. To whom the judge said: stand up Gentlewoman, it will grieve me to see you stand, much more to kneel: therefore without any more bidding sit down by me, and I will not only hear you, but also help you if I be able: so that equity do allow, and justice do bid, hoping that your matter is such, that both these will agree unto it, for that me thought your request was to have me to save an Innocents life: and to save an Innocents life a small suit shall serve. And therewith he took her gently by the hand, and caused her to sit down by him: who said to the judge then: In deed sir I said so, for I am that Innocent touching any law of Death, that lieth in your hands to save or to kill: not that any matter is laid against me worthy of Death, but my life (being an Innocent) in this case, hangeth on another man's life that is not innocent: whose life to save lieth only in your hands. I pray you, said the judge, tell me your matter and cause as briefly and plainly as you can, and what I may do lawfully, I will perform it willingly. The truth is so, said the Gentlewoman, I am the wife of such a Gentleman that killed a man of late: whose cause I come not to defend, but for whom I come to crave mercy. I now know your matter, said the judge, I lament his mishap, and I pity your case. You know Gentlewoman, it hardly lies in me to save whom the law doth condemn, especially him, whose fact is so manifest, and which by no means can be denied. O sir, said she, it were very strait, that you being a judge so well thought of, and of such great authority, that you can not show justice with mercy, and law with favour. You know, said he again, I am sworn to do equity and justice according. And you are not ignorant, that both God's law and our law willeth, without any redemption to kill him that killeth, and to shed his blood that shed it. And should I do justice if I should save your husband, who willingly killed a Gentleman of late, that was not determined to fight with him? who unwares set upon him, and so he was slain, whom the law would have favoured in defending himself? Therefore Gentlewoman cease your suit, for it lieth not in my hands to help you: but if I could I would not. For if I should save your husband in this case, I should get more shame and slander by this one thing, than I have gotten good report by all the justice and equity that I have done since I came in Office. I blame not you, for suing for your husband in so evil a cause, which you do for love: but every one would blame me, for granting your request in so evil a cause, 
A lamentable suitor.  which they would say I did for money. O sir, said the Gentlewoman, (and began again to kneel, but he would not suffer her,) the Gentleman is dead, and the death of my husband will not make him live again: which if it might do so, I would not be so importunate herein: therefore I beseech you, as ever you came of a woman, or as you will have Christ to be merciful to you that was borne of a woman, kill not two more for one that is dead already. For I assure you, I love my husband so dearly, that if he die, I am most sure that I shall not long live. Oh I would to God that one friend might die for another, as one man doth pay money or is imprisoned for another: then I that am most woeful would quickly be joyful. For than he should not die, but I would die for him. But seeing that can not be, O most worthy judge, stretch out your power and find out some way or mean to save my husband's life. What so ever you ask me you shall have: and what so ever you will have me to do, I will do it. Let my vehement words penetrate your merciful heart, if there be any spark of pity, or any drop of mercy in you, show it now upon me your most humble servant, which am ready, (if herein you pleasure me) to run at your horse heels, or to do the vilest drudgery that you can set me too. Surely Gentlewoman, said he, you are the most importunate suitor that ever I knew. I perceive where you may have yea, you will have no nay. If your husband should escape, he is bound to make much of you. I think if you were in his case, he neither would, nor could sue so earnestly for you. O yes, said the Gentlewoman, it is his great love he doth bear me, that causeth me to sue for him so vehemently. You know sir what I have said, from which I will not serve: therefore I beseech you send me not away without some comfort, for if you do, I am most assured, that unless you make good haste, I shall be dead before my husband. Then the judge took the Gentlewoman by the hand, and said: I will advise myself this night what I may do, and what way I may best pleasure you: be you of good comfort therefore in the mean space. But as I will not promise you, so I will not denay you. And come to morrow hither to my house, about this time, and I will be here ready to speak with you, when you shall know of me, whether I can, or will pleasure you, yea or no. At which time, the Gentlewoman took her leave of him, something better heartened than when she came to him.  Omen. 
I have not heard a more earnest suitor for her husband than she: I pray you how sped she after?  Siuqila. 
The next day, I warrant you, she broke not her hour, but went unto the judge, as he had appointed her: and when she was come before him, he made her to sit down beside him, and caused all the rest that were there, but they two, to go away: and then he carried her into an inner Chamber with him, because no body should hear what he said unto her, and then thus he began to say: Gentlewoman, the more I have considered your case, the more I have busied myself to help you, I assure you, (through your pitiful moan and most earnest suit,) I am determined to do more for you and grant you more favour, than ever was in my thought to do for any: I must hazard that for you, (if I satisfy your desire) that I would not have jeoparded for mine own self. And for as much as you said (to pleasure you, and to save your husbands life) you would give me what I would ask, and also do whatsoever I would will you, I will be brief and make few words with you: If you will have me to save your husbands life, than you shall do thus: You shall give me six thousand Crowns (for I know you are able well to spare it, considering your husband is of such a great living as he is) which you shall bring me hither to morrow at night. The time is very short, said she, and the sum is very great: but if there be no remedy, I trust to make shift for it. You know, said the judge, that if I be not good unto him, and find some means for him, he must be executed within these three or four days: and therefore you must make great speed therein, for I will have it, before I do deliver him or save him. Well sir, said the Gentlewoman, you shall have it: Yea but, said the judge, there is another matter behind, which if you do not, your husband is like to die, for I will not receive the money without it: What is it sir, said she, and according to my promise, I will do it if I can or may? I know, said he, you will be loath to do it: this it is, to morrow at night you shall bring your money unto me yourself alone, at which time, at such a privy door of my house I will receive you myself, (for I will trust none other with this matter) and then when you have delivered me so many Crowns, you shall tarry with me still, and lie with me all night: for I assure you, that if I desired the company of your body no more than I esteem your Crowns, I would not have promised to save your husband, The Gentlewoman was so suddenly gripped with such a grief, that she was ready to sink down, but the judge took her up in his arms and comforted her, saying: Gentlewoman, now is no time for you to fall in a trance, nor for me to trytie: if you had not earnestly of your own free will offered me, that you would do whatsoever I willed you, I would never have required this at your hands, neither put you in any comfort: therefore either perform your promise, and save your husband's life: or else be false of your promise, & thereby procure his death: for I assure you, there is none other way to save his life, but this. You know your lying with me shall be so secret, that none in the world shall know of it but you and I: and as I will keep it most secret, 
Mark well.  so I trust you will not utter it: which words when she heard, she suddenly clapped her down on her knees: but he would not suffer her to kneel, but took her up by the hand: to whom she said: a sir, in what a strait have you me now? either I must lose my husband to whom I have given my faith, or else lose my faith that I have given my husband: my husband I can never get again if he die, and my faith I can never recover again if I once break it. Therefore I most humbly beseech you, ask me what you will (this thing only excepted) and if I perform it not, if I be able, most willingly and quickly, then let my husband die without all redemption. I am borne to some inheritance, all which, both I and my husband will most willingly release unto you: and all my jewels, Rings and other ornaments, I will fetch with speed and deliver them to you, which will do you more pleasure, stand you in more stead, & comfort you longer, than one nights lying with a woeful wretch that had rather be buried than to go to your bed: and besides all this that I offer you, take freely to yourself those six thousand Crowns you request of me. Make no more ado Gentlewoman, said the judge: either get you hence with your gold, or tarry here & perform my desire: for I am determined none other way to save your husband's life but thus. Oh good God, said the Gentlewoman, how am I wrapped in woe, on every side: if I deny this, my husband shall die: and if I perform it, I betray my husband. How can I love my husband, that so treacherously use my husband? Then said the judge, and how can you love your husband, that rather than you will lie with me one night, that never shall be known, will see the death of your husband? Oh sir said she, if my husband should know it, would he not kill me? yes, and thereof I were well worthy: nay, said the judge, he would the more love you, that did that, for the saving of his life, which you preferred before your own life: therefore, said the judge, tell me what you will do, for I will be quickly at a point. Well sir, said she, will nothing content you but this? No, said the judge: and I will tell you moreover, if you perform this my demand now, I will save his life: but if you refuse it, then, though you would, I will not: wherefore, now you may save your husbands life, or within these two or three days, be most sure of his death. To whom the Gentlewoman said, (preferring her husbands life before all other things in the world) well sir, seeing there is no remedy, I do yield unto you, beseeching you (for that I buy my husbands life with such a price, that all the treasure on the earth is not able again to redeem) to be sure, that my husband be not only saved from death for this fact, but also, that all our lands and goods may be ours, in such order as they were before the offence was committed: and also, have a great respect, that this my promise thus secretly performed, be not openly uttered. To whom the judge said, assure yourself Gentlewoman, all this shall be done, fear you not: which way it shall be, I have devised already. Then said she, I will be here at your privy door to morrow at night, when I will, not only bring you all your Gold, but also (though sore against my mind) will perform the rest of my promise. And so the Gentlewoman took her leave of the judge, as one that was lifted up with joy on the one side, and pulled down with sorrow on the other side.  Omen. 
Surely, that cruel hearted and wicked judge, drove that loving Gentlewoman to a marvelous mischief. But proceed, I would feign hear what followed.  Siuqila. 
You shall, & that willingly: the Gentlewoman brought the gold at her hour, by such privy means as she thought convenient, & the judge received both it & her, being then something dark, & so she did lie there all that night with the judge: to whom he said in the morning before she went from him: now Gentlewoman, I thank you. And though you have performed your promise very unwillingly, yet you shall well understand, that I will perform mine most willingly. And for that I would as well have you to be of good cheer, & to be quiet in mind, as also not to trouble yourself with any pains or travel: my will is, that you stay at home &▪ go not abroad: & whereas your husband should have been executed to morrow in the morning, I will dispatch him, & send him home to morrow unto you before noon at the furthest, if it be not before: & therefore play the wise woman's part, & be secret: & though your husband shall be delivered so quickly, show not yourself to joy therefore too suddenly. Wherefore keep yourself close in your own house, & be merry in mind, though for a show you seem to be sad. Well sir, said the Gentlewoman, as I have satisfied your desire in an unreasonable demand, so I will obey you in this reasonable request. And for that I am most sure, that my husband shall now have his life: I wish most earnestly, that the time were come, that he were delivered. Then said the judge, that time is not long, to morrow you shall have him safe and sound with you. And thus she departed from the judge, very merry for the saving of her husband's life: but yet something sorrowful for the breaking of her faith to her husband.  Omen. 
The joy of the one did mitigate the grief of the other, she thought long I am sure for the time appointed by the judge: and was the time for his execution the next day after?  Siuqila. 
Yea, & the day of his execution too: for the next morning about 8, or 9 of the clock, this sorrowful Gentlewoman's husband was put to death: which, after it was done, 
A most cruel deed.  was rife in every man's mouth. And then the said Gentlewoman standing at her door, saw one come running in all the haste, who seeing him coming toward her so fast, was very glad, thinking that he came to tell her of her husband's life: but it fell out otherways, for he came to tell her of her husband's death. And when he came something nigh her, she said: I pray thee what news? is my husband delivered? delivered, said he, no, he is executed. Executed? said the Gentlewoman, I am sure thou dost but jest. Then he said, you may take it now for jest, but shortly you will find it in earnest. Yet the Gentlewoman would not believe him, she had such a trust in the treacherous judge: but this unlooked for news of her husband's death, did so pintch her, that she could not be quiet, till she were better certified: whereupon she would tarry no longer in her house, but went forth, to inquire further of the matter: and within a little while after, not far from her house, she met with two or three of her friends, that told her they came from the execution of her husband, saying, they would have been loath to tell her thereof, but they were sure she was not ignorant of it. Oh said she, may I credit you? is this true that you tell me? yea said they it is too true: 
Heavy news.  we had rather have told you otherways, for we see him both quick and dead, and there was great haste made in the executing of him. With that the good Gentlewoman fell suddenly to the ground, whom all they had much ado to recover: and they carried her home to her house, and so she lay in a trance for the space of two or three hours, and knew no body that was about her: but after when she came to herself, one of her friends that was nigh her said: you have been always counted, since you were of years of discretion, to be both wise and godly in the time of prosperity, show yourself so now in the time of this your calamity: it is no great mastery to guide a Ship in calm weather, but it is a weighty matter to rule a ship in a storm or Tempest: therefore now guide yourself with reason and patience, in this time of sorrow. If your sorrow would get him again, I would wish you to use it: but seeing that cannot be, I would wish you refrain it. You may procure your own death with grief: but you cannot get his life again with sorrow: therefore make not two mischiefs of one. I will not, said she, I thank you for your good counsel. Ah woe worth all treacherous villains, said she: once this morning I would have laid all my goods to a groat, that I should have had my husband safe and sound home to me this day before noon: but now for that you (whom I credit) have told me that he is dead, and that the time is past I was promised to have him here quit and alive, my chief practice and delight shall be, to be revenged on mine enemy: as before, all my travel and labour was to release my friend. Have you such an enemy, said the other, that his deeds towards you have deserved death? then she being a wise woman, loath to make any privy of her practice, said: truly the death of my husband so grieveth me, that I speak I witted not what: therefore take no hold nor effect at my words, for I have no such enemy I hope, if I have, I know them not, and it is also without my desert. And so she pacified herself for that time as well as she could.  Omen. 
This was the vilest and most treacherous part of a judge or of any other that ever I heard: but I consider his privy meaning in executing her husband, for he thought by his death to have married the Gentlewoman, thinking that she, when she saw that her husband was dead, whose life by no means she could get again, would be alured to him by little and little well enough: judging also, that she that was so loath to commit that fact secretly, for the saving of her husband's life, would be more loath to utter it to her own shame openly, after her husband's death, when there was no hope of his life.  Siuqila. 
Well, he was clean deceived, in that she was otherways bend and fully determined: for she weighing with herself, how treacherously he had served her, not only in defrauding her of six thousand crowns, but also bereaved her of two of the greatest jewels she had in the world, that was her husband and her honesty, which by no means again could be recovered; that thereby such a detesting and abhorring of him did enter into her heart, that nothing was so pleasant to her, as to procure his mischief: and had rather work his death by opening her own shame, than to hide her infamy by saving his life, as the sequel doth plainly show: for as speedily as she could, she got her decent mourning attire, and with convenient men to wait on her, road in all the haste where the Magistrates & the chief Rulers of the Country did sit: who knocking at the Counsel Chamber door, within a while after was let in, when they knew who she was. And when she came before them, she kneeled down: and lamentably and pitifully desired them that she might have justice, for that was the only thing she craved: and as all my suit of late (said she) was chief for Mercy, now all my request is only for justice. Then said the chief of the Counsel, Gentlewoman, we may perceive, that some great matter hath driven you hither to require justice, therefore tell us your matter truly, and you shall be sure of justice, and that with all expedition. Then she humbly thanked him, and told in every point and hid nothing, how the wicked judge did use her. Which when they heard, they were marvelously astonished thereat, at which time they asked her, if she had any other witness herein than herself: to whom she said, no, for the fact was so shameful, that it rather required a secret place than open witnesses: but I can show you such privy marks and tokens, as well of the bags wherein the Gold is, and of the place where they lie, as also of the privy stairs, where he himself alone brought me up into his Chamber, and of the sh●etes, pillows, coverings, & curtains of the bed, where I was enforced to grant to lie with him, for the saving of my husbands life, and other secret tokens, that they will bewray the matter as well as any witnesses in all the world: 
No better witnesses.  and the opening of mine own shame before your Honours, me thinks may be allowed for a sufficient witness. Then they commanded, that all the tokens she could name, should briefly be written: And so they were. Then said the chief Ruler to her as followeth: we will send one with you with our Commission, not only immediately to discharge the said judge and displace him, but also that he be apprehended and committed to prison, where he shall remain until such judgement as we shall think meet to be executed on him. And furthermore, you shall bring this Commissioner into his Chamber, to whom you shall show all the secret tokens there, before us described and by you mentioned. And then they commanded the Commissioner to seize all his goods, and to scale up all the doors of his house, and that he and she should ride thither as speedily and as secretly as might be, least the judge having foreknowledge, might fly away before they came. And he said moreover, that the Gentlewoman should have justice as she required, commanding her to stand to, & obey their judgement therein: to whom she promised she would, and that most willingly: and so they gave her leave to depart.  Omen. 
This was very wisely wrought of the Gentlewoman. The judge little thought of this mischief that was so nigh him: he had been as good to have given Gold to have lain with another, as to have taken her gold and li●n with her. But did the Commissioner find the judge at home when he came?  Siuqila. 
That he did, for the judge thought himself safe enough: and so, when the said Commission was showed to the Rulers of the City, the judge was dismissed out of his office, and straightway was committed to prison: and then the Commissioner with other appointed, took the Gentletlewoman with them as a guide: to whom she showed the postern gate where he received her into his Chamber, and also all the marks and privy tokens with the place where the Gold she gave him did lie, even as she had told the Counsel, and there they found all the Gold which he had of her.  Omen. 
I have heard of men that have given Gold, to allure unwilling women to be willing to lie with them: but I never knew that unwilling women, gave gold for willing men to lie with them. I see no pleasure that he did for her, unless his lying with hi●s● sore against her will was any pleasure, for I am sure she took no great pleasure in the putting her husband to death. Well, though she could not get her honesty, nor her husbands life again, she might have her Gold again: but had she it again or not?  Siuqila. 
You shall know that hereafter, in a place more fit to be told. When the Commissioner & his other associates, had found all the tokens and marks true as she had declared, they locked all the doors in his house, and sealed them up: marry all the gold, silver, plate, and jewels that they found, was committed to other that was charged safely to keep it. And so the Gentlewoman went home to her house: whose great sorrow was mitigated, for that she hoped shortly to see the confusion of her most mortal enemy. And the Commissioner departed with speed to the chief Ruler of the Country and the Counsel, unto whom he revealed how the Gentlewoman had told them truth in every thing. And then soon after they consulted among themselves, what judgement were meet to be given therein: and which way that good and loving Gentlewoman might not be defamed, by that unwilling and constrained fact: and how the people's mouths might be stopped, for uttering the same to her infamy: and how it might not be a slander to her, nor a hindrance to her marriage. Whereupon, with long debating of the matter, they agreed, that her honesty could not be saved, nor the infamous talk suppressed of her lying with the judge, but only by marrying of the same judge: and so they concluded, and gave judgement, that (seeing he had done her such a shame and villainy) such a day by them appointed, he should prepare him in the best manner he could, to marry her, with an other secret judgement beside, which was privily uttered by the Commissioner: who was appointed, not only to see the marriage celebrated between them accordingly, but also the other secret thing performed, in all points as the Counsel had decreed. Which judgement was carried down thither where the Gentlewoman dwelled, by the said Commissioner. And when the day of the marriage approached, the Commissioner came into the prison to the same wicked judge, & said, that the Ruler and the Counsel, had given judgement, forasmuch as he had taken a Gentlewoman's good name from her, by lying with her, 
Better than he looked for.  that he should prepare himself in the best manner he could to marry her, thereby to make her amends: which, when the treacherous judge heard, he was the gladdest man in the world: for that was the only thing he desired, and the cause why he executed her husband. And so he prepared himself against the day appointed to marry her. And then the said Commissioner went to the said Gentlewoman, whom when she saw, she was marvelous glad, saying: sir, you are most heartily welcome: I pray you what judgement have my Lords of the Counsel given on my behalf against the wicked judge mine enemy? Forsooth, said he, as they think, a very good and necessary judgement, though it be not altogether as you desire: but in my opinion, it is as wise and righteous a judgement as can be. Well sir, said she, though it be not according to my contentation, yet I must be obedient, knowing, & being well assured, that they are so wise, righteous, and godly, that they will give none other judgement, but according to equity, justice, and reason: and therefore, as I have promised their Honours, whatsoever judgement they have given, I must be content, and will. It is very well said of you, said he, there is no resisting of them, and therefore, the more willinglier you take it, the better they will like of you. I pray you sir, said she, what is it? though I am loath, said he, to utter▪ it unto you, because it will not well like you: yet I am enforced to tell you of it, because the Counsel have commanded me. Spare not I beseech you, said she, to declare it unto me: for, if it be any thing that may move my mind, I am determined to arm myself with patience. I pray you do so, said he, for you shall see, that God at the length, will turn all things to the best: now thus it is: the chief Ruler, and the rest of the Honourable Lords of the Counsel, have given their judgement, and fully decreed, that against such a day you shall prepare yourself, in most sober and comely wise, to be married unto him: for they think, that the infamy you have received by him, 
Worse than she looked for.  can be salved by no means so well, as by being his wife, and to be married unto him: therefore prepare you for it accordingly, for there is no remedy; but you must perform this their decree and judgement: which, when she had heard, she waxed as pale as was possible: whereby it appeared, that inwardly she was not a little vexed and troubled. And within a while after she said: shall I now marry him that hath cruelly killed my loving husband whom he promised me to save, and spoiled me of my faith and honesty, which I can never recover again? to have the life of my husband, made me to go to his bed loathfully, and can the death of my husband make me to lie with him willingly? Oh, I would to God, that the Counsel had not respected so much mine honesty, as to make me do that I detest more than death. I had rather a thousand times live in shame, than to marry him that is cause of my shame. Then said he to her again. Did not you tell me, that you would arm yourself with patience, though I should tell you that did trouble your mind? I said so indeed, but when I said so, though all things were not so well as I would, yet I did not think that it was so evil as it is: to marry him is the thing he most desireth,: but to be married to him, is the thing that I most abhor: whereby he shall have a joyful life that hath deserved a cruel death: but thereby I shall have a sorrowful death, that ought rather have a joyful life. I hoped that the day appointed for his marrying with me, should rather have been the day of his death, for so shamefully abusing me. Well, I will obey their commandments, trusting thereby, that my sorrow shall end: and whereas that night he thinketh, that I shall be bedded with him, I hope that then I shall be buried by myself. There was never a sorrowfuller Bride than I shall be: but look what you have willed me, I will do it, and what the Counsel have judged I will perform it. And then he took his leave of her and departed.  Omen. 
This was not such a judgement as she looked for, nor yet as the wicked judge did hope to have. But did she come at the day appointed to be married unto him?  Siuqila. 
Yea that she did, though it was full sore against her will: for in the same morning he was ready at the church a good while before she came, for if he had been so unwilling as she, he would not have come so soon as he did. And at the last, she came in her mourning apparel, thinking the would wear the same at her own doleful marriage, that she did wear at her husbands death. And so to conclude, they were both married together, whereof he was as glad as she was sorrowful. And when they were married, and as he was about to go home with his new woeful wife, the said Commissioner said: sir you must stay a little, this Gentlewoman your wife hath performed all the judgements that on her part are to be done: but though you have done some, yet you have not done all, there is one piece yet behind for you to perform. What is that? said the judge, for I will do it willingly: then said the Commissioner, not so willingly I believe as you were married, unless you are willing to go to your death: whereat the judge was astonished: and then the Commissioner said to him: 
A wise and worthy judgement.  nay, there is no remedy, the Counsel's judgement is, that immediately after you are married, you must be executed: therefore prepare yourself, for I must see it done presently. And as for you Gentlewoman, said he, you were best go to dinner, and not tarry for your husband, for he hath an other part to play. O, said the Gentlewoman, blessed be God that hath given us such wise and godly counsellors, that have given such a worthy judgement: the death of my first husband did not make me so woeful a Widow, but the death of my second husband doth make me as joyful a Widow. Here was a sudden change, for whereas before the Bridegroom was merry and the Bride sad: now the Bride was most merry, and the Bridegroom sorrowful, and so she went to her dinner, and he to his death. Whose execution was not very long in hand, for she was a Widow again that day before she had dined. And to comfort her the better, she had not only all her gold again, but also all the judges her second husband's goods: for the Counsel commanded that he should lose none of his goods, whereby this Gentlewoman his wife enjoyed them all.  Omen. 
Truly they were godly and wise Counsellors: their judgement was with great equity, justice and reason. I am sure she was gladder that he should go to his death, than with her to dinner.  Siuqila. 
That is most true, and contrary: he had rather have gone with her to dinner, than to his death. Surely, it is a vile thing for one to take money, for getting of a pardon to save a man's life, and to do nothing in it: but it is a most wicked and detestable thing, to take money for the saving of a man's life, and then to cause him be speedily put to death. I pray you sir, have you any law for such as take rewards for bringing matters to pass, and make men believe that they travel therein for them, and do nothing at all?  Omen. 
We have a law for such, but we need no law for such, for none with us will take any reward, though they do them pleasure: and then, do you think they will take any gift or reward for doing them no pleasure?  Siuqila. 
What is your law in that case?  Omen. 
Forsooth, whosoever taketh a reward for doing any thing, and doth promise fair, but doth nothing at all therein, our law is, that he shall pay to the party of whom he received it, 
A worthy law.  three times as much as he received, and he shall be imprisoned for the space of a quarter of a year, and all the while he is imprisoned, none, upon pain of the like forfeiture and punishment, shall do any thing for him, for any matter or suit, or bring any thing to pass that he would have them to do. And he shall wear on his sleeve a whole year after, a paper, whereon shall be written: This is a dissembler.  Siuqila. 
But what say you to them that are put in trust by their friends, to procure and to get a thing for them, and then they judaslie deceive them of it, and get it for themselves?  Omen. 
Marry I say they are false Harlots, and I think them as well worthy to be hanged, as thieves that steal through necessity. For such we have a worthy Law. But friends with us do deal so truly and justly one with another, that the same was not executed of a great while.  Siuqila. 
Then belike it was once executed, whereby it appeareth there was once an offender therein with you.  Omen. 
Yea that there was: And now I will tell you the History thereof, if you will hear it.  Siuqila. 
Yes that I will, and that very gladly.  Omen. 
There was one that was something sick, 
An excellent example of one that deceived him that putt● him in trust.  and not very well at ease, that had never a house to dwell in that he could trust to abide in long: for he had no Lease in it, but occupied it during the absence of a Gentleman, and no longer could he have it but until he came home: which sickly man, not well able to travel, & knowing that within four or five miles of him, there was a Lease of a good Farm to be sold, sent for one whom he took for his very and trusty friend: when he was come to him, he said as followeth: Neighbour and friend, for the great credit and trust I have in you, I am ensorced at this time to crave your help. Then said he to him again: Neighbour, what so ever I can do for you, to my power I will do it: And therefore though it be never so weighty a matter, nor so great a secret, fear not both to utter it unto me, and also to put me in trust to travel therein, as I would do for myself. Godamercy said the other. You know neighbour, said he, that I dwell in a house here, wherein I have neither term nor certainty: for as soon as the Gentleman cometh home, (who hath none other house but this to dwell in himself) I look to be houslesse, and how soon that will be I know not, for I look almost every day for his coming home. And now for that I understand there is one within four or five miles, an old man, and that hath neither charge of wife nor children, which will sell the lease of his Farm, (and that, as I understand, very reasonably) therefore I shall desire you to do so much for me, as to go thither to morrow, and not only to inquire of it, but also in my behalf and for me, if you can, to buy the same: but get it as reasonably as you may, and whatsoever you appoint to be paid for it, I will pay, and that at such times and days as you and he shall agree: which if you be content to do for me, what so ever charges you shall be at thereby, I will not only allow, but also I will pleasure you as much if I be able. To whom his neighbour that he sent for, answered again and said: neighbour, if it were more than this I would do it for you, therefore take you no care, for if he will sell it (as you think he will) I will drive the price, and buy it for you as well as if you were there yourself, and to morrow (God willing) I will go about it. Do so, said the other, and I pray you let me hear how the matter goeth, as soon as you can: and so he took his leave. Two or three days passed on, and yet he could not hear of his neighbour, and then he sent again to him to desire him to come and speak with him: who sent him word that he would come by and by. And as soon as he came, the sickly man said: Neighbour, I looked for you two days since, marveling that you tarried so long seeing your journey was so short. Neighbour, said he again, a short journey may have a long business, and a short business may have a long journey: the distance of the places we know, but the time of dispatch we know not. We that do travel are sure of ourselves, but we are not sure to find them at home to whom we travel. Therefore be content good neighbour, I came but even now home, and now I am come to you, which I had done though you had not sent for me. I am as desirous to tell you, as you are to hear, what I have done. Well neighbour, said the sick man, what have you done therein? or how have you sped? Not so well as I wish, for your sake, said he. I went thither the next day, as I promised you, but I found him not at home, but they thought he would come home that might, for whose coming I tarried so late, that it was to far for me to reach home by day light, and yet for all my tarrying for him he came not home that night at all. Which grieved me that I tarried there all night, and was thereby never the nearer. The next day I tarried for his coming till almost night, so that I meant to tarry no longer there, but to come homeward. But as I was going out of the house, I met him coming in, whom I told how long I had stayed only to speak with him, desiring him to talk with me in some secret place, where I might utter my mind unto him, for that I made haste to be gone. Sir, said he, if you will have aught with me, you shall tarry with me all night, and at leisure you and I will talk together, for I am something weary, assuring you, that I had rather sit and warm me by the fire, than to stand and talk in the cold. Therefore determine yourself to tarry all night, and though your Supper be but simple, your bed shall be the better. Whose gentle offer I could not well refuse, and the rather, to dispatch your matter, and to bring your purpose to pass. And so I both supped well, and lay well, and also I slept as well.  
As soon as we were up the next morning, and had broken our fast, the Good man of the house said unto me: come and walk with me, I am more willing to talk with you than I was yesternight. What have you to say unto me? Forsooth, said I, I understand that you mean to sell the Lease of this your Farm you dwell in: and if you be so determined, I have a very honest neighbour that is now destitute of a house, who will give you as much for it as it is well worth. The truth is so, said the other, I was determined within this month to have sold it, but now my mind is altered, for I have no such occasion to occupy money now, as I had before, and therefore I am fully determined to keep it still in my hands. Then said I, if you be not determined to sell it, I am sure my neighbour will not be desirous to buy it. And so I gave him thanks, and departed from him. And this is the very conclusion of al. Then said the sick neighbour to him that he had sent thither: What remedy? that that a man can not have, he must be contented to forego. 
It was not worthy of thanks.  Saying also, I thank you neighbour for your pains, I will do as much for you if it lie in my power. And so his neighbour went home.  Siuqila. 
What falsehood followed of this, I pray you?  Omen. 
More falsehood than faith, and more craft than true dealing: for within a month after his said neighbour that was sent to buy this Farm for him, came to him unsente for, and said as followeth: I am sorry that you can get never a house to dwell in, and for that I would be loath that you should be houslesse, I will sell you the Lease of my Farm that I dwell in, rather than you should want one. I thank you neighbour, said he, but as you would be loath that I should be without a house, so would I be sorry to make you houseless. Nay neighbour, said he, I do not mean to be houseless myself, though I sell you my house, for if you may spare it until your Landlord come home, I doubt not but by that time to get another house better than mine. I am promised one if it will hit, and if he break promise with me, as I think he will not, yet I hope to get another, for my friends will hearken about for me. How far, said the sick neighbour, is the Farm that is promised you? Forsooth above twenty miles hence, said he. Well, said his sick neighbour, if you can get another house for yourself then I pray you let me buy yours: yes that you shall neighbour, said he, and I hope within this Seven-night to be so sure of one, that I may bergaine with you for mine. I would be glad of that, said the sick neighbour. And so for that time he departed home.  Siuqila. 
Did he come to him again within a Seven-night, as he thought?  Ome●. 
Yea that he did, and less, and then he said thus unto him: Now neighbour I am come to you according to my promise. I make a full account now to be sure of another Farm, and therefore I am come to offer you my Farm, if you will have it, you shall have it before any other. And though there be divers that are desirous to have it, you shall forsake it before I do proffer it to any other. I thank you therefore good neighbour, said he: now tell me your price: You shall have it for forty pounds, said he, that is the lowest price, I will not sell it under. O neighbour, said the other, that is a great deal too dear, the other Farm that I sent you to buy for me, would have been sold for half the money, as I was credibly told, and once the owner thereof was fully determined so to have sold it, and it is twice as good as yours, I am sure. Notwithstanding, for my necessity, I will give you as much for it as it is worth, and something more: Well, to be short, said he again, unless you will give me so much for it, you can not have it, and therefore say now whether you will have it or no, for if you refuse it, it will be gone, I can tell you that, and that for this price that I offer it to you for. Well neighbour, I perceive because my need is great, therefore you make the price the greater: nay if you say so, said the other, than you shall not have it: is this all the thanks I have for my good will? and so was going away in a sum. Then the sick neighbour called him back again, and said: Good neighbour be not angry, I meant no harm, your unreasonable price made me speak so much: but I pray you do one thing for me, let me pause of the price between this and to morrow at night: well, said the other, I give you leave to do so, but then I pray you let me have a determined answer whether you will have it or not: you shall not fail thereof, said he. And his said neighbour came unto him the next night, at which time the bergaine was fully made between them, and so he paid him forty pounds for his Lease. And the time was appointed in their writing, when he should enter upon it. But now, you shall see how the matter fell out. The Gentleman, in whose house this sickly Farmer dwelled, came home: so that there was no remedy, but that he must dwell in his own house, whereby he that dwelled in it, was enforce to remove, to his neighbour's house, the lease whereof he had bought: and so he came to his neighbour and said, neighbour there is no remedy, I must be so bold to enter and dwell in this house that I bought of you, for that my interest therein is already begun, but chiefly that my Landlord is come home, to whom I must needs give place in his own house. Well neighbour, said he, I can not deny but that I have sold it unto you, but if I had known so much as I do now, I would not have put it away: for the truth is so, I am disappointed of my house, which I told you is above twenty miles hence, therefore if you would stay but one Seven-night, I should think myself much beholden unto you, and in the mean space I will lay out for another, and if I cannot get one by that time, yet I will make such shift, that then I will remove from hence, and suffer you quietly to enter on your own: well, said his sickly neighbour, I do not doubt to get my Landlords good will to tarry in his house so long, and therefore tarry you here this seven-night, for I dare presume so much of him. And then at the sevenights' end, his neighbour came to him, at which time he was removing his goods and stuff from thence, to whom he said then: now neighbour I perceive you are true of your word. And so this sickly Farmer entered quietly on his neighbour's Farm that he bought. And at the last when the other had almost removed all his goods from thence, this sickly Farmer said to him: now neighbour tell me, are you driven to lie within another man for the time, or have you got a Farm of your own? no I thank God, said he, I have gotten at the last one of mine own, which I have gotten within this sevenighte: for when you gave me leave to tarry until this time in your house, I promise you I knew not then that it would be sold, but as good hap was, a very friend of mine seeing me in such a distress for want of a house, told me, that this Farm that I have now got, would be sold: whereupon I made haste to the party that ought it, and so I made short work considering my great necessity, and have now made it sure though I paid for my pleasure. I pray you neighbour, said the other, lieth it in a good soil, and is it far hence? no, said he, it is within this four or five miles, and it is very good ground, and lieth in a good soil. Whereaboute (said he) doth it lie, and of whom did you buy it? wots you of whom? said the other: no surely (said he) how should I know unless you tell me? truly, said the other, I had very good luck to hit of it, it is the Farm that you did send me to buy for you, which then by no means he would sell, but now of late (whatsoever the cause was) he was enforced to sell it. Well, said the other, I would it had been my chance to have known that, for than I would not have bought yours. And (said the other) I would not have sold you my Farm, if I had not thought myself sure of the Farm twenty miles hence, that was promised me. But I thank God now as it chanced (said he) I happened as well. Then said his neighbour that bought his, but now there is no remedy (said he) God send you to do well of yours, and God grant I may prosper on mine: and so they departed.  Siuqila. 
That fellow was a crafty Harlot, that sold his Farm, for I smell the circumstances of the matter, that he defrauded his neighbour of that at the first, when he put him in trust to buy it for him.  Omen. 
He did so in deed: but his good meaning neighbour could not perceive it, neither did mistrust him: but as craft and deceit have never good end, so truth bewrayeth falsehood by one mean or other: for not long after, one that dwelled in the same Town, where this crafty fellow had bought the Farm, chanced to be in the company of this sickly Farmer, who (when he knew that he dwelled there) said: one of our neighbours hath gotten a good Farm with you, as I understand, I pray you what paid he for it? forsooth said the other, as I heard it reported, he had it cheap enough, for he paid under twenty pounds for it: yea, said the beguiled Farmer, I would have given thirty pounds a quarter of a year since for it, and I sent him word by the same man that now hath bought it: but he would not then forego it, though before he was determined to sell it. Then said the other, he hath sold it now for a good deal less. And so there was no more talk of it at that time: but as soon as this fellow came home, he went to him that had sold the said Farm (for he bore him good will) and said, you have sold your Farm very cheap as I understand: I would, said he, that I had sold it cheaper, so that it had been to such a one as would have kept touch with me, & paid me my money at my day. Then said the other, did you not receive all your money therefore presently? no nor scant half, said he. Then said the fellow: I was in company of a very honest man of late, that would have given you thirty pound for it, or more rather than he would have gone without it: then said he, he should have had it, if I had known so much: he told me himself, said the fellow, that about a quarter of a year since, he would have bought it, hearing then that you were determined to sell it: and thereupon he sent you word thereof: that is not so, said the other, or else if he sent unto me to buy it, the message was not done unto me: can you tell, said he, by whom he sent that message? marry said the fellow, he sent the message by him that now hath bought it of you: is it even so? said he: then I smell a Rat: who is it I pray you, that told you thus? and that sent me word about the buying of my Farm? & then he told him who it was, and where he dwelled: and so he gave him thanks, and then the one departed from the other.  Siuqila. 
I believe he that sold the Farm thought long, until he spoke with the same man that sent him such word, & that would so feign have bought it.  Omen. 
That is very true, for the next day after he went unto him, and said: I understand that you sent a neighbour of yours about a quarter of a year since, for the buying of a Farm for you that is in such a place. Then the beguiled Farmer said, I did so indeed: I pray you said the other, what would you have given for it with a good will? forsooth, said he, I bade him offer in my behalf thirty pound for it, and more rather than fail. And what answer brought he you again? said the other: he told me, said the beguiled Farmer, that he would not then sell it, for he had no need, though before he had an occasion so to do: and who was it, said the other, that thus you did put in trust to make & conclude this bargain for you? forsooth, said he, even he that bought it of late, and that now doth dwell in it. Do not you understand, said the other, how long it is since he bought the same? yes truly, said he, if I may believe him, for he himself told me that he bought it not past four or five days before he came to dwell in it. Well honest man, said the other, I am he of whom he bought the same Farm be now dwelleth in, and to whom you sent him to buy it for you. You are defrauded, and I am misused: why so? said the beguiled Farmer: for at that time when you sent him to me, (which is a quarter of a year since at the least) he concluded with me for it, and paid me ten pounds in hand, which is all I can get yet of him for it: And therefore he told you a false lie, whereby he hath defrauded you of your Farm, and me of my price: but will you stand to this (if need be) said he, that you sent him to me for that purpose? Yea that I will, said the other, for I have good occasion thereto: I was the first that told him of it, and put him in trust (because I was sick) to go unto you, & to drive the price for me, through whose crafty and false dealing, it seemeth that both you and I are deceived. Well, I fear, said the other, though he hath deceived us at the first, he will be worse deceived himself at the last. Therefore be ready at all times when need is, I pray you: you shall not need to fear, but that I will be ready to witness the truth. And then he that sold the crafty fellow his Farm, departed and went home.  Siuqila. 
But would not this crafty fellow pay him the rest of his money?  Omen 
He would not pay it him, as you shall hear, for within two or three days after he came unto him and said, I pray you pay me the rest of my money you own me for my Farm: For your Farm? said the other, I own you none, I paid you all your money in hand that I bought it for. Have you so? said he, you paid me but ten pounds in hand, and all wise men might judge me to be a very fool to sell it for so little, for it is well worth as much more as you gave me for it. I trusted you upon your own word, without writing or witness, for the payment of the rest, therefore you do not honestly use me to deny it. If I had as evil a conscience as you, I might as well claim three times as much as you own me, as you to deny all that you own me. But as I claim no more than my due, so I pray you deny me not of that is my due. If I own you any thing, said the other, then get it by law, otherwise you shall have no more of me than you have had. I perceive, (said he that sold the Farm) you mean now to put me to my trump, for that you are sure, I have neither Obligation nor Bill of debt for the payment of the same, neither know any witnesses that heard the bergaine between you and me: but if you were as godly as crafty, and as honest as you are deceitful, you would not use me so evil, for trusting you so well. But there is no remedy, if I lose it, I may thank mine own folly. And so he went away from this crafty fellow not very well pleased.  Siuqila. 
I could not blame him, but did he leave him so?  Omen 
No I warrant you, as he handled the matter, he had been better to have paid him his money with quietness: for he did not only sue him by a bill of complaint, for the rest of his money, but also revealed all his craft and deceit to the judge, which he used, in defrauding his neighbour of the Farm: which when the judge heard: what, said he, have we such a fellow dwelling among us? I would have thought there was not such a one to be found in all our Country. If this be true that you tell (as I believe you know to whom you speak) (for it is no small danger to tell aly to a judge) I will make that all they hereafter, that shall dwell in the Country of Mauqsun, shall beware how they deceive any. Therefore bring him before me, said the judge, and I will dress him according to his deserts. I thank you my Lord, said he that complained unto him, it shall not be long before he shall be brought before you. And immediately after he came home, he caused the said crafty fellow to be arrested. So that there was no remedy but that he must needs appear before the judge. And at the day of his appearance, he came into the Court where the judge did sit, and he that did sue him, was there ready also. And then by and by the judge called for him by his name, and caused him to come before him. To whom the judge said: are you he my friend, that bought the Lease of a Farm of such a man? yea my lord, said he: what did you give him for it, said the judge: forsooth said he, I gave him x. l. But for how much did he sell it unto you, said the judge? for x. l. said he: he that selleth such a Farm as I understand that is, said the judge, for ten pounds, either he knoweth not what he doth, or else will never thrive. Come hither you that sold the Farm, said the judge: For what sum did you sell your Farm to him? for twenty l. my Lord, said he, of which he gave me ten l. in hand, and I gave him half a years day of payment for the rest. Where is your Bill of det, or Obligation that you took of him for the same? said the judge: My Lord, said he, I have none, I thought him to be so honest a man, and trusted his honesty so well, that I neither required it of him, no● yet he offered it to me. Then said the judge: Have you any witnesses, that he hath not paid you all? or that he oweth you any? No my Lord, said he, as I trusted him without writing, so I credited him without witnesses. Then said the judge: I can see none other, for that you have neither writing nor witness, but that you have all the money you are like to have. Well my Lord, said he, if I lose it I know the worst: I know in my conscience he oweth it me, which will be a burden to his conscience if he deny it. And dost thou say of thy conscience, said the judge, that he doth owe thee ten pounds? Yea, my Lord, said he, and he knoweth of his conscience, that he oweth me no less. Mark well what I say, thou fellow that boughtest this man's ●●rme, said the judge, he chargeth thee deeply, that thou knowest of thy conscience, that thou dost owe unto him ten pounds: 
A naughty conscience.  How sayest thou? dost thou owe it him of thy conscience, or no? And then he said: My Lord, of my conscience I own it him not. The one of you, said the judge, hath but a slender conscience. Take heed my friend, though for want of Writing or other testimony, thou mayest blear mine eyes: yet for all that, thou canst not deceive God, which is the chief judge of all. Though thou shouldest carry this matter clear, and be quit of it before me thy earthly judge: yet thy matter must be ripped up again before Christ at the last day, the heavenly judge, who without either writing or witness, doth and will then know the truth quickly. And then (though now by fraud thou deceive this plain dealing man of his ten pounds) if he find that thou dost owe unto him so much, thou hadst been better to have given ten times more than thou owest him, than to give him one groat less than his due. For I assure thee, and trust to it, that the everlasting torments of Hell fire are prepared for the wicked, and such as defraud their brethren of their right. Therefore if thou own it, pay it unto him, and drive not off till Christ the high judge compel thee to pay thy debts to God: for than thou shalt be always paying it in Hell, and thou shalt never come out, until thou have paid the last farthing, which will never be paid. So that by defrauding this man of ten pounds, which is but dross, and earthly riches, thou wilt bereave thyself of the kingdom of Heaven, which is an everlasting treasure. Wherefore thou were better open the truth now willingly, whereby Christ may be thy friend at the latter day: than to have it opened before Christ against thy will then, whereby he will be thy utter enemy and commit thee to Hell fire to be a companion of Devils for ever. Therefore now tell me the truth, dost thou owe him ten pounds or no? My Lord, said the fellow, I own him none, for if I had aught him any, he would have had something to show. Well, said the judge, seeing this way will not serve, I will go another way to work, and if it be found that thou owest it (as I doubt not but to sift it out as I will use the matter) thou art like to smoke for dissembling with me, and to pay dearly for every lie thou hast made. Sirrah, said the judge to him that sold the Farm, did not you make him a quittanie for the ten pounds he paid you? Yes my Lord, said he, for he willed me to make him one for the receipt thereof: and then I made him a quittance, and sealed it, and delivered it before two or three honest witnesses. Lo, said the judge, the natures of these two are showed herein, for this man that sold the Farm, of a good and honest nature, did ask him no bill of debt for the ten pounds he had to pay him: but the other missetrustfull of him that trusted him, did require a quittance for the ten pounds he paid him. Well, there is a great difference between fraud and faithful meaning. Where is that quittance, said the judge, that this honest plain meaning man made you? Forsooth my Lord, said he, I must needs confess that I had such a one, but I have lost it. I perceive, said the judge, 
A false shift.  that there is something in it, that will rather make against you than with you, for that you feign you have lost it, and all because you are loath to show it. But seeing you will not show your quittance, I will make you show it, or else pay him his ten pounds again which you say you paid him: and then you had been as good to have paid him the ten pounds you own him, with your will, as to pay him ten more against your wil We have a law and an order here, that all aquittances and General quittances with divers other writings must be recorded: and if the same be not recorded, the acquittance is of no force, and it shall be lawful for the party that received the money (if he will) to claim it and receive it again. Now if you had such a quittance, and the same not recorded, than it is lawful for him to claim the ten pounds again that you paid him, if he will. And if the same be recorded, than we will have it quickly out of the recorded writings. And then the judge commanded one of his clerk to search the Records therefore, and with speed to bring unto him the true copy thereof. Which the judges Clerk did, who searching the Records for the same quittance, found it and brought it to the judge his master: which when he had viewed well and red thoroughly, he said: I perceive it was not for nothing, 
A good way to try the truth.  that you had lost your quittance, and that you were so loath to bring it to light: here it is manifest that you paid this man ten pounds, but here is another clause doth follow, that quite condemneth thee, which is, that thou hast paid him ten pounds in part of payment of twenty pounds, my Lord said the crafty fellow, that is more than I bade him, and the other said, more than I willed him to do: but indeed I remember when he was beginning to write the quittance, he asked me if it should be a general quittance? and I said no: and then he asked me if the ten pounds was in part of payment, of any of the sum or not? I told him then it was in part of payment of twenty pounds. Send for the Notary that writ the quittance, said the judge, and bid him come to me with speed▪ so one went for him and brought him before the judge, who confessed the same words that the honest man had spoken before: and though (said the Notary) neither of them willed me to write it, yet I thought good to set it in, for the better declaring of the truth if need should require: thou hast done very well therein, said the judge, and like an honest and well meaning man, and as the matter falleth out, 
A good Notary.  it hath brought the truth to light, which a false fellow here went about to suppress: thou noughty, varlet said the judge, how dared thou make such a manifest lie unto me, when I charged thee so vehemently on thy conscience to tell truth? but rather how dared thou presume to take it on thy conscience, that thou oughtest him nothing, before the majesty of God that knew thy conscience? But though thou thoughtst to outface me and this honest man, 
Mark.  (thinking thyself sure that there was none to witness against thee) yet God that will neither be mocked nor outfaced, hath brought both writing & witness against thee: my Lord said the Notary, I read it before them both, before it was sealed and delivered, and they sound no fault therewith: the one sealed it gladly, and the other received it willingly. This is both manifest and apparent, said the judge, for this fellow confessed before, that he had such a quittance of him, which he would not have received unless he had liked it, and it had been according to truth. Therefore come hither sirrah, said the judge, and stand near, that you may hear your judgement for your two notable lies that you made before me, and for the defrauding of this man of his money. You shall, according to our Law, keep silence and speak never a word to any for the space of six months, that is, for either lie three months, (unless you be required thereto by some Ruler or judge, for some weighty matter or cause) & you shall wear on your sleeve all the while, an H. and an L for a Hurtful Liar: and yet you may say that I am a favourable judge unto you: for if I had put thee to thy oath (as I might have done very well) I know thou wouldst have forsworn thyself which fearing, I did not require thee thereto: and then half thy goods should have been lost, which the King should have had, and thy tongue should have been cut out of thy head, for a perjured person. Thus thou mayst perceive I have used thee gently. And then, the judge said to him to whom the debt was due, how long is it since you first required your money of him? 
Note this judgement.  forsooth my Lord said he, two months and something more: than my judgement is, said the judge, that he shall pay you your debt, which is ten pounds, and for every month since so much as the debt is, that is for every month ten pounds which amounteth in the whole to thirty pounds. This is my judgement, & see that ye perform it in any wise. And the man upon whom the judgement was given, was going from the Bar: but the judge said, sirrah, you must stay a little, I have another thing to say to you yet: & then he called before him the other man, whom he defrauded of his Farm, and that put him in trust to buy it for him. To whom the judge said: did you never desire to buy the Farm that this fellow bought, of whom I gave judgement of late? yes my Lord, said he, I was very desirous to buy it, but I was sick that I could not go about it myself, and I sped thereafter: did you put no friend of yours in trust, said the judge, to make the bargain for you? yes forsooth my Lord, said he: who was it said the judge? truly my Lord, said he, even this same man that bought the same Farm, whom I requested (for that I was sick and not well able to go, and because I had a greater confidence in him than in any other of my neighbours) to do so much for me, to inquire of the man that ought the same, whether he would sell his Lease thereof or not, saying, I understand that he meaneth to put it away, and because I dwell here where I have no certainty, and look every day to be put out of it, I will give him for it as much as it is worth with reason: and if you can not get it under thirty pounds, I will give it: and rather than I would go without it, I will give him more: therefore I pray you, said I, drive the bargain for me as nigh as you may, & make it up for me before you come home again if you can. And then he promised me faithfully, that he would do more for me than that, and he went thither, and when he came home, he told me that though before he was determined to sell it, than he would in no wise depart withal: were you the first that told him of it, said the judge: yea my Lord said he, thereof I am sure: well said the judge, what house bought you then to dwell in? forsooth my Lord, said he, within a while after he came unto me, and proffered me his Farm, saying that he had another Farm promised him, above twenty miles hence: and so, I for lack of a house was constrained to pay unto him, his own price for his Farm, which was forty pounds, though it were not half so good as the Farm that he hath now, for which as I understand he paid but twenty pounds: yea said the judge, and if he might have gone forward as he began, he would have paid but ten pounds: saying further, this gear I fear will fall out but madly, for it beginneth very suspiciously. How long was it after, said the judge, ere you entered into his house? forsooth my Lord, said he, a quarter of a year and more, and when I was enforced of necessity to come thither to dwell, he desired me to stay from coming thither for one seven-night, & to let him remain there so long, for said he, I was disappointed of the Farm twenty miles hence, whereof I told you, but I hope to get another shortly: and so I was content to let him tarry there for so long, and when I came to dwell there at the end of the Seven-night, he had almost removed all his goods and stuff from thence: and then I asked him where he had gotten a house so quickly: marry neighbour said he, I have got the same Farm, that you willed me to buy for you, the Lease whereof I bought but within this four or five days. And thus as, he said, he got the Farm, which at the first I desired him to get for me. Indeed said the judge, a man may be in good hope of a house, when already he is sure of one of his own: I smell said the judge this gear well-enough. A juggler by his trinkets is easy to be known. Then said the judge to the fellow (upon whom lately he gave judgement) tell me truly and lie not (for lies are so dear that you were better tell truth) how long is it, since thou boughtest the Farm thou now dwellest in? whereat he held his peace and spoke never a word: he is driven into such narrow room, said the judge, that he can neither go backward nor forward, for if he say, he bought it when I think he did, than he bewrayeth himself: if he say he bought it at such time as he told his neighbour that bought his Farm, than he that sold it to him (he feareth) will witness against him. Well, seeing you will not answer me, said the judge, I will see if another will answer me: tell me, said the judge to him the sold him his Farm, how long is it since he bought his Farm of you? my Lord said he, it is almost five months since, for on such a day, I received the ten pounds of him for the same: then said the judge to the other that bought the crafty fellows Farm, how long do you think it since you sent your said neighbour to buy or conclude for the same Farm for you? forsooth, said he, my Lord I am sure it was about the same time. Then, said the judge, I have another witness here that will I trow agree with you both: and then he looked on the quittance, 
A good witness.  and he found that it was dated and sealed the same day that the man said he received his money, lo, said the judge, how jump and justly is truth tried by trial: if falsehood be not suborned with friendship, money, or gifts, she could never prevail as in many places she doth. These crafty and wicked wretches, do tie one mischief to another, & link devilish practices together: for when this crafty fellow had defrauded his neighbour that put him in trust of the Farm, he left not there, but practised to deceive this other man of the one half of his money: and whereas he sold him his Farm, which would bring him to wealth: he practised to beguile him of his money to bring him to poverty: therefore stand near, said the judge, thou false and crafty fellow, I must needs proceed again against thee in judgement, and the second judgement will be worse than the first. And now for that thou didst make a lie to thy neighbour, which put thee in trust, telling him that this man would not sell the Lease of his Farm, whereby thou deceivedst him, and bought it from him, (which lie was to his great hindrance, and the cause he had it not) my judgement, is that for the space of two months more, for this only, without any paying any thing to him (for that as the matter falleth out, he shall be otherways recompensed) thou shalt not speak to any body, unless before a judge or Ruler, as is before said. And shall also all the while wear on thy sleeve, and an H. & an L for a Hurtful Liar: & because thou hast deceived thy neighbour of the Farm, which he put thee in trust to buy for him, therefore my judgement is, that he shall have the Lease of the same, & enjoy it as well as though he had bought it: paying to thee again the xx. l. which thou hast & must pay for it: & because thou didst give less than thy neighbour did offer for it, by ten l. therefore he shall occupy & enjoy thy Farm, which thou sold unto thy neighbour, for the space of ten years. And see that thou perform this judgement, as thou wilt avoid a greater danger. And as thou likest this, said the judge, deceive thy neighbour again, that doth put thee in trust.  Siuqila. 
Out of all doubt he was rightly served, your law in this case is a very good law: if we had such a law with us & so well executed, so many would not be defrauded by them they trust.  Omen. 
Are not they thus handled with you, that beguile them that put them in trust?  Siuqila 
No, no, we have no such law for them, & I fear if there were, their doings would not be so narrowly sifted, nor their offences so duly corrected: Nay rather with us, one that is put in trust, may buy & enjoy any thing from his neighbour with his own money, & the thing will be rather laughed at, than lamented: & he that is defrauded, shall be rather mocked than moaned. I can tell you as pretty a trick as this, that was done with us: but the defrauder was not therefore so handled as with you.  Omen. 
I pray you tell it, and I will give you the hearing.  Si. 
I will not stick for yt. There was a Gentleman understood that certain land & other commodities would be sold, & that very reasonably, which lay so necessary for his purpose, that he could not have wished it better. And for that he was aged, & not well able to ride & travel: & also having a son both of good wit, dexterity, & knowledge, being very well acquainted & able to make good friends, called his son unto him, & said: son I understand that such a house & Land with other commodities will be sold, and for that the same lieth so necessary for me as is possible, I would have thee to travel therein for me: which thou mayest easilier do, and bring to pass than I, for that thou art better able to travel, & hast more knowledge therein: father, said his son, I am at your commandment, and will travel therein as much as I am able, I doubting never a whit to bring this your desire to pass. Then said his father, if thou dost well for me, thou canst not do ill for thyself, wherefore I would have thee to go about it with all speed, and thou shalt carry so much money with thee, as will purchase the same: and in any wise purchase it in my name, to me & my heirs for ever. Then said his some: father, in whose name else should I purchase it? the money is yours that shall buy it, then must the lands be yours that owes the money: therefore doubt not, I will do all things herein for you in such order, that you shall have a good cause to think better of me (if it be possible you may) Well, said his father, I do not doubt but thou wilt. And then his son took his leave of his father, & carried the money with him for the purchasing of the same: who within a while after, what through his travel, what through friendship, & what through rewards, he purchased the same, and had it under seal, and so made him ready to go homeward to his father.  Omen. 
But I pray you tell me, did he purchase it in his father's name, or not?  Siuqila. 
Belike he had forgotten his father's name, & therefore he put in his own name, which he remembered better.  Omen. 
A good son, if he had been hanged a while a sunning to dry: it must needs grieve his father when he heard of it.  Siuqila. 
That is not to be doubted. Well, to proceed with this fraudulent son to his faithful father, he made as much speed homeward as he could, rather glad of his Lands that he had got falsely, than ashamed of the defrauding of his father. And assoon as he came home, his father rejoicing at his coming, said: son, thou art welcome home: how hast thou sped? forsooth father said he, I have sped very well I thank God, I have gone through with the purchase: then, said his father, than I may take possession of it when I will: No father, said he, you must not take possession, it is I that must take possession: for to put you out of doubt, I pray you be not angry, I have purchased it in mine own name (notwithstanding it shall be at your commandment:) which when his father heard, he took it so grievously (especially for that his own son served him so) that he lived not long after, but died even for very sorrow.  Omen 
Such a son is better to hang than to hold, oh that he had dwelled in our country, he should have been so handled and hampered that few or none for fear durst have used their fathers in such order: and I do not think but that he had some condign punishment for the same.  Siuqila. 
He was neither touched nor troubled therefore, nor had any punishment for it, unless you call that punishment, to enjoy quietly the lands that he so falsely bought with his father's money.  Omen 
Was that all the harm he had? now surely it was great shame, that he was suffered: either you have no law for correcting such a fault, else the same is not well executed.  Siuqila 
Truly many with us are so slenderly hard when they complain of such like injuries, and such treacherous parts are so bolstered or borne withal, that they think it is better, to rest quietly with the harm or loss, than with further trouble to spend & consume their money, & be never the nearer: yea and perhaps his father would not complain of his son.  Omen 
Such notorious enormities should be redressed, & such wicked dealers should worthily be punished, though the party so misused did never complain, if they were committed in our country.  Siuqila. 
How can that be? for if one complain not, how can he have remedy?  Omen. 
Yes well-enough, for our King hath his most trusty & privy Spials, that travel purposely through his whole Dominions, only secretly to learn and search out such notorious misdemeanours, who in their own persons, reveal secretly to the King, all such notable mischiefs: as they have truly learned, and surely searched out by their travel, and they do not only give to the king in writing the names and places, where they dwell, that so offend: but also their names and dwelling places, that are so molested & misused: to which privy Spials the King gives great livings, and also bountiful rewards.  Siuqila. 
If such Spials were with us, out of doubt one or other would kill them quickly.  Omen. 
Yea but how can they kill them before they do know them? These Spials are charged on pain of death, not to utter or reveal the cause of their travel: for none but the King himself doth know them that are appointed for this purpose. So that it can not be known, unless they reveal it themselves. And moreover, these Spials dare not certify the King of any untruth, for if they do, they shall die for it: therefore it standeth them upon to learn and search out the matter advisedly and diligently, and to be of a good and sure ground, before they certify the King thereof. And to make the said Spials to be the more diligent in their travel & trial out of such notorious misdemeanours, and wicked practices: the more matters that they have to certify the King, the more gifts and rewards they shall have of the King, for the King giveth every one of them a liberal reward for every such notorious fault, practice, or misdemeanour, that they so declare unto him. And the King himself in his own person, hath the hearing, determining, and judging of every such notorious fact or matter, that is informed him by his said Spials. And by these means, wicked deceivers and devilish practisers are justly punished by the King: & the oppressed and defrauded are revenged, restored, and helped, though they themselves do not complain.  Siuqila. 
What a worthy order and notable policy is this? whereby the wicked is punished, the innocent helped, and truth and equity defended? Surely your Prince is much to be commended, that bestoweth himself such liberal gifts to such finders out of faults, whereby all this is accomplished. I would to God we had such Spials with us, to travel abroad to learn and search out such.  Omen. 
By these Spials our King of Mauqsun did so speedily and earnestly help a poor wronged Widow to her right, that therefore his fame will never be quenched.  Siuqila. 
I beseech you to tell it, for I think the time long till I hear it.  Omen. 
As one of the King's privy Spials was traveling, 
An excellent example of the restoring of a widow unto her right myssused by her son in law.  he spied a poor woman sitting in her door spinning, who asked her the way to a town he was traveling unto, and she told him the right way thither: which poor woman perceiu●ng the man by his spitting to be dry, desired him to drink a cup of her small drink: which he did not refuse, but thanked her for her gentleness. And then she brought him into her poor house, and did set before him bread and cheese, and brought him such drink as she had, whereof he did both eat and drink well. And whiles he was sitting there, he demanded of the said Woman, what Country woman she was? Who told him, that she was not borne far from thence. And then he asked her if the got all her living with spinning? Yea, said she, I thank God for it: for though it be a poor trade, yet it is a true trade. But sir, said she, though I be now in such a poor case, I have been in a great deal better. How then came you thus impoverished, said he? Truly I will tell you, said she, the whole matter, if it were not for troubling of you. Nay, said he again, it will be no trouble to me, nor harm to you: therefore tell the truth in all points as nigh as you can, for if I can do you no good, assure yourself I will do you no harm. Sir, I do not tell it unto you, said she, to the intent to have any redress thereby, but only to show the simple state I am now in, and the case I was in before, concerning prosperity or worldly felicity. It was my chance when I was not passed nine or ten years of age, to be carried by a friend of my father and mother, a hundredth miles hence at the least, to be brought up with a Gentlewoman, who loved me very well, because I was something obedient and diligent unto her: whose service I changed not for any, but tarried still with my said Mistress until she died. I being then about three or four and twenty years of age, my Master was made a Knight, whereby his Wife was a Lady at her death: Who a little before her death sent for her husband to come and speak with her: and he (as she desired,) came presently unto her: at which time she took him fast by the hand, and said: Sir, I feel myself now so sick, that I know I shall not long be your Wife, and I trust that you can not say, but that ever since our marriage I have been a true, loving and obedient Wife unto you. And as I never requested any thing of you of any great importance, so now at my death I pray you grant me a boon, which you may easily perform. And I assure you sir, said she, it will be no evil, but good, and not to your hindrance, but greatly for your profit, joy, and quietness. What is it wife? said he, and then I will tell you whether I will or not. Nay, said she, I beseech you grant it me before, it will be no more harm to you than I have said, therefore if ever you loved me deny me not. Which when he heard her desire so earnestly, knowing also that she would will him to nothing, that should hurt or hinder him, said as followeth: Wife, for as much as I know that thou lovest me dearly, and wishest me well, I will grant it thee whatsoever it be, if it lie in my power to perform. Yes sir, said she, or else I would not demand you to do it. And now this it is: I have brought up a poor Girl a great while, and though her friends or kindred are unknown to you and me, yet I know her good conditions, her honest behaviour, her modest manners, and her diligent service to be such, that I esteem her a great deal better therefore, though she be of a base parentage, than though she were a lords daughter without the same. And you are not ignorant sir, that she hath so unfeignedly borne such an affection to you, and favour to me, that she hath loved our children most tenderly. And for that I shall leave behind me two young mootherlesse children, and an other that is our eldest son of riper years (whom I beseech God, he may be as toward and well disposed hereafter, as he is froward and evil disposed now) I am much afraid lest the young babes, by a stepmother should, be stepchilds: and that when you their father were abroad, they should be misused at home. And as I have a great care for them, so I have no small regard unto you, 
A strange suit.  fearing least you should marry one that rather loveth your living than yourself, as you shall be alured thereto I am sure, whereby you should not only much miss me, for your own quietness and ease: but also for the good looking too and well bringing up of our children. And for that I know none that will obey you, love you and regard you so much as I, neither make so much of our children, and have such care of them as I, except it be this my servant, of whose faithfulness, honesty, love, and modesty I have had such trial, that it is very hard to find her match: therefore my most humble and last suit unto you is, to marry this my servant and Maid after my death, at such time as you shall think convenient and meet, which I doubt not but you will do, for that you have promised me. And then he said to her again: For as much as I have promised you to perform your request, I will God willing marry her, if it be your chance to die before me. And within a while after, my good Lady and Mistress died, and then my Master according to his promise, did marry me, with whom I lived after above twenty years in great worship, quietness, and wealth: whom I so loved and obeyed, that he thought he had his first wife. And I brought up his children so carefully and tenderly, that they never missed their own mother. Then said the King's Espial, to whom she told the tale: If this be true, than you are a Lady still, for though you have lost your living by some mishap, yet you can not lose your title by any mischance. A poor Lady, said she, that is feign to spin for her living. And when I had been married to this worthy Gentleman and Knight more than twenty years, God took him away by a sickness that he had, to my great grief and sorrow, yea, and to my utter undoing: as you shall perceive hereafter. For my husbands eldest son, who neither esteemed his father nor loved me, after his father was dead, brought me by fairs words, to walk with him into my ground, and when he had me in a little grove of Wood, he, stripped me out of all my clothes, and put upon me such simple attire as he had prepared for the purpose, and said: a beggar my father found thee, and a beggar his son will leave thee: thou haste had pleasure enough to be a Lady these twenty years, therefore the rest of thy life, thou shalt play the beggar, least thou forget from whence thou camest: dost thou think to have any of my father's living? no I warrant thee. And as it hath grieved me to see thee in my mother's place all this while, so now it doth rejoice me to see thee in these beggar's rags. And then I kneeled on my knees, and began to speak unto him, but he would not suffer me, saying: if thou prate to me one word that I like not, I will kill thee: therefore if thou wilt have thy life, thou shalt promise and swear unto me, that thou shalt never sue me in any Court for any lands or living here, neither shalt thou complain to any judge of this that I now do to thee: and moreover, with as much speed, to go out of this country, and that thou shalt not dwell within a hundred miles of this place: all which, if thou wilt not swear to perform, here I will dispatch thee and hereave thee of thy life. And then I, 
A compelled oath.  for the safeguard of my life did swear unto him, that all this I would perform, and so have I done ever since until this day: for I went then from thence in all the haste I could, partly for fear of my life, but chief for keeping my oath, and here I have dwelled ever since, without complaining to any judge of this great wrong and injury he hath done to me, and without suing or troubling him for my living (according to my oath) which he keepeth most wrongfully and wickedly from me. And thus sir, said she, thorough ministering of talk, you know by what occasion I am come to this poor estate, yet as well contented withal, said she, as when I was in my greatest prosperity. It is marvel, said he, that you do not find some means to get your living or some part of it. Alas sir, said she, I never look to have any of it, neither do mean, according to my oath, to complain to any judge or Magistrate about it. A constrained oath by God's law and man's law is counted as no oath, said he: therefore, I tell you truly, if it were my case as it is yours, I would seek some remedy to ge●te it: what is the Gentleman's name; and where doth he dwell that thus did use you? said he. And then she told him both his name, and the place where he dwelled. But I think, said she, he is dead by this time: therefore, said she, God forgive him and I do, Surely, said he, God will bless you the better; because you take all these injuries so patiently. And now, said he, for your good refreshing of me I most heartily thank you, And if it may lie in my power to show you any pleasure, you shall be as sure of it, as you have given me drink to ●uenth my thirst. And it may so chance, that I may do you some unlooked for pleasure. And the King's Espial went on his journey, & she●to her spinning.  Siuqila. 
She little knew, good woman, that he, she so courteously used, and to whom she told her troublesome tale, was the King's appointed Espial for the learning, searching and trying of such kind of matters, and that God would prepare a remedy for her so soon as he did. It was only the Lords working, that put it into his heart, to ask her the way, and that put it into her mind to offer him drink. God works all things by marvelous means, if we would consider it, for the helping of the innocent and godly. Now tell on your tale I pray you.  Omen. 
This man, to whom this poor Lady declared the cause of this her poverty, made his journey through that country where she told that her wicked son in law did dwell. And when he came nigh to that place, he did not only understand & learn of divers perfectly, that the same Gentleman was then living, & inhabiting there: but also, that such a woman was his father's wife, & married her being his maid, at his wives earnest desire on her death bed; and all things beside as she had before told: but whether she went, or what became of her after the Knight her husband's death, they knew not; thinking verily, that 〈◊〉 was dead; for, said they, if she were alive, either she would have come, or sent ere this: for a great living should belong to her, if she were alive. Which being bolted out by them a far off, without any suspicion, he made haste to the Court, being very glad that he had such a matter whereof to certify the King. And as soon as he came to the Court, watching his time when he might most conveniently talk with the King he went unto him, as he and the rest of his fellows might do most boldly: and then with divers enormities and wicked practices, he revealed the whole story, how this poor Lady was missused by her wicked son in law, and to what poverty he brought her. And then presently the king sent for this poor Lady, whom the King used courteously after she had told him all her matter, and appointed her to be kept secretly in the court, and gave her meat, drink, and lodging, and bade her in any wise, that she should tell no body wherefore she was there, nor declare her case to any, nor yet to utter what she was. And also the King sent for that said Gentleman by a Pursuivant, and for all the justices of Peace that dwelled near him, and also for the judge that was appointed for that soil.  Siuqila. 
I am sure the said Gentleman did not marvel a little, what should be the cause that the King did so hastily send for him: and also the justices of Peace and the judge could not tell the cause why the King sent for them.  Omen. 
No, they knew no more thereof, than the new borne babe doth know of his mother's labour. When every one of these were come to the court: & when the king was certified thereof, he sent not for them all at once, but for one of them after an other And first the King sent for the said Gentleman that had so used his mother in law to come before him whom the king asked, what was his name, & what was the place where he dwelled. Then he told both his name & also where he dwelled. And then the king asked him whether his father died before his mother or not: & he told the king, that his mother died before his father: did your father marry again, said the king, after the death of your mother, Yea, & if it like your Grace, said he. What mind of woman was she? said the king: a maid or a widow, a Gentlewoman or a base borne? forsooth, said the Gentleman, she was, as I judge of no high degree, for she was but my father's servant, and as for her kindred we knew not: it seemed by her attire at her first coming, that her parents were but poor. How chanced it that your father (said the King) being a Knight, and a man of so great a living and good worship, would marry his servant, or one of so base a calling? Truly, said the Gentleman, my mother on her death bed, for the great love & affection she bore to her, desired my father to grant hirone request before she died: who, thinking she would desire no such thing, granted her that he would do whatsoever she desired, if it lay in his power to perform: and then, when he had granted her, she required him to marry her maid after her death: and so he did perform the promise he made to my mother. Then said the King, your father was very good to her, for in one hour he made her of a poor servant, a worshipful Lady, and of a poor maid, a rich Mistress. He did so, said the Gentleman. Then said the King: Is she dead or alive? I think she be dead, said the Gentleman. Do you not know perfectly, said the King? no, I know not perfectly, but that I surmise, for if she were alive, she would come or send to receive her Rents, for her living should be great if she were alive: for my father loved her so well, that he made her a jointer of more than half his living: besides that, he left her worth in goods above two or three thousand pounds, but she never had nor enjoyed any of it: for soon after my father's death, she went away, but how, I know not, and I never heard of her since. I like you well, said the King, that you tell me the truth: it seemeth, that she had better luck during your father's life than she had after his death. How long was she married to your father? said the King: forsooth, said he, above twenty years. Did your mother leave any more children than you? yea, said he, she left two that were but young. And was she a good mother to you, said the King, and used you and them well? Yea very well, said he: our own mother could not have loved nor used us better. It is very strange, said the King, that no body could tell neither of her death, nor yet how she should be conveyed away: truly, said the gentleman, I made as great search and inquiry for her as I could possibly, but I could never learn what became of her. The most wisest men have surmised, that some did, by some wile, steal and convey her away against her will, for her great wealth and living, and for that she would not consent, have killed her, fearing least she should bewray them, if they should have let her go away from them. It may be so, said the King, it is very likely. Well, said the King, this is the cause I have sent for you by my pursuivant: 
The King speaketh politikly.  it was credibly told, (belike by some that bear you no good will, and perhaps do it rather of malice than of any good matter) that you have killed her, or caused her to be killed: but if you be sure you have not (as I believe you would not, for that you told me how well she loved and used you) assure yourself to be without all danger. But least I be suspected, said the King, of partiality, you must be content to be as a prisoner a while, until I see that it cannot be proved, which I will quickly try, doubt you not: therefore content yourself, said the King, for they that have thus slandered you shall dearly pay for it, if they cannot be able to prove it. Then said the Gentleman to the King: God save your life, O worthy Prince, for I never killed her, nor consented ever thereto: therefore I am certain and sure, that it can never be proved: wherefore I now rejoice, though I was sorry before I knew the matter. And then the King sent him away to prison.  Siuqila. 
This was a very good policy of the King, to pretend her death against him, which he knew was false, whereby to have a good occasion to send him to prison, and thereby to keep him safe, and to make him the less suspect the truth, or that she was alive, whereby he might be the mer●ier.  Omen. 
You say true: And after that the King examined the judge & justices of Peace severally by themselves: and they all affirmed, that the Knight, the said Gentleman's father, did marry his maid at his wives request on her death bed: but what became of her after the death of her husband, they knew not. And he commanded after, that the said Gentleman, with the judge and justices of peace should be brought before him: and when they were all come he said to the said Gentleman: How say you? said the King, it is credibly told me, that you have killed your mother in law: which is very like, for though she used you and your brethren as her own dear and loving children: yet I understand, that you did not only in your father's time marvelously misuse her, but also, your own loving father, whom you were most bound to love and obey above all other. Now seeing you did hate and despise her whom your father entirely loved in your father's life, by displeasing of whom, you might have been displaced out of all your inheritance and living: than it is like, after his death when he could not disinherit you how cruelly soever you handled her, that either you have killed her yourself, or appointed some other to do it. Then said the Gentleman, if it can be proved (O worthy King) that either I killed her myself, or got any other to kill her, or was ever consenting to her death, either do know of her death: then let me suffer the most vilest death that can be invented. And I trust your Majesty, said he, would not have me molested or troubled for her death, unless it be proved that either I killed her, or procured her death, or consented to it. No, said the King, as God is a righteous king in Heaven, so I hope I have been and will be a just Prince in my kingdom on earth. Well, said the King, if I can not bring a witness, that she was killed, yet I believe I can shortly have one to testify, that she escaped with great fear: so that, if she be alive, it is manifest then that you are not culpable of her death. I am sure, said the Gentleman, there is none that can witness any such thing against me in any such thing: neither, that I ever gave her any such occasion. I will not say it was you, said the King, the witnesses, if there be any, can tell their own tale. But I pray you, said the King, tell me one thing, and lie not. Then said the Gentleman, if your Majesty ask me that I am able to resolve, I will: then say unto me, said the King, whether had you rather your mother in law were alive or dead? whereat he paused a little: Your pausing, said the King, portendeth something, for if you were free from killing her, than her death could not hurt you: and if you have not otherways misused her, than her life can not harm you Your Grace, said the Gentleman, doth construe it one way, but I meant an other way: for if she were dead, then by surmises and other presumptions, I might incur great trouble and danger, whereof her life would rid me: and if she were alive, I should lose a great part of my living, which I now enjoy and possess. Then said the King, herein you have showed rather a ready wit, than a good excuse: for you that are loath to have her alive that so much loved and tendered you, least she should enjoy half your living: it is to be thought, that you could be content to procure her death, whom you utter lie hated, to have all her living. And for as much as the question seemeth so doubtful to you, that you know not whether it were better for you to have her dead or alive: it is like, that you are guilty of her death, or abused her in her life. Well, said the King, bring me hither the poor woman, we will see what she can say. And then the poor Lady his mother in law, in her poor attire, was brought before the King. And then the King asked the Gentleman if he knew her: and he said, he knew her not. Do you know this Gentleman? said the King to her: If it like your Grace, said she, I know him well. Yea, said the King, it liketh me well that you know him: But perhaps it liketh him evil that you know him: tell me truth, said the King, when and where did you see him last? Forsooth said she in a Grove, not far from his house where he dwelleth. What certain token, said the King, can you show me, that then you saw him? then said she, I have such a sure token that he cannot forget it. Tell it I pray you, said the King. Then the poor Lady said: it was my chance on a certain evening to be in the same Grove gathering a few sticks, and suddenly I saw this Gentleman (though he saw not me, for I did cover myself close in a bramble bush) and his mother in law was there with him, whom he then stripped of all her apparel, and put on her back poor beggarly attire (I marvel where he had it) (where got the Devil the Friar, said the King?) and did then threaten to kill her with his Dagger in his hand, if she would not then faithfully promise and swear to him, that she should not only get herself from thence in all haste, and never come again within an hundredth miles of the same place: but also, that she should never utter the same to any judge, neither ever claim any part of her living there. And when she began most humbly to kneel and speak to him, he said, if she prated to him, he would thrust his Dagger in her. Then the poor Lady was commanded to depart for a while. How like you this tale? said the King, she might well be a good mother to you, but you showed yourself herein a step-childe to her. Did not I say before, that his silence did show then, that either he was guilty of her death, or abused her in her life? Then said the King, what sayst thou to this thou wicked wretch? why dost thou not answer for thyself? Then he said, I beseech your Grace not to credit this poor woman. As though, said the King none is to be believed but the rich: and none to be discredited but the poor. I do not say that she is to be discredited for her poverty, said the Gentleman, but I mean that her poverty may make her to be alured with gifts and money, to bear false witness. It is well known, said the king, that that good Lady thy mother in law, had neither kith nor kin nigh thee, to sue, travel, or to search for her, and to bolt out the truth. And moreover, canst thou make me believe, that this poor woman durst witness a falsehood to me, or to accuse thee, (being of so great living and wealth) of su●● a crime, if it were not true? I do not say to your Grace, that she is hired to bear witness against me, but that it is very likely, that through gifts and rewards she is alured thereto. Wherefore I most humbly beseech your Majesty, not to believe, that I have missused my good mother in law in this sort when she was alive. Dost thou think, said the King, that she is dead? I believe she is dead, said he to the King: therefore let not me be troubled, for that I never abused her as this woman reporseth.  Siuqila. 
Surely, this was very wittily handled of the King.  Omen. 
As he began very wittily, so he ended the same very wisely: for he appointed, that after the said poor Lady should put on her trim apparel, and show herself in such sort as she was in her prosperity. And then the King said: though you refuse this poor woman for a witness, I trust you will not refuse a rich Gentlewoman for a witness. Bring in that Gentlewoman, said the King, before me. And when this poor Lady came in trim attire like a Gentlewoman or a Lady, before the King: the King asked her, if she knew that gentleman. Yea, my most worthy Sovereign, I know him very well, said she. Do you know this Gentlewoman? said the King to the Gentleman. Then said the Gentleman very softly and sorrowfully, I know her. Do you know her? said the King to the judge and to the other justices of Peace: yea, said they, we know her very well, for she hath made us very good cheer in her husbands time: it was very well bestowed on you, said the King. This is a very strange thing, said he, the rich and wealthy can not know the poor, but such as are rich or equal to themselves. And if any come from wealth to poverty then they quite forget them: but if they come from poverty to wealth, then quickly they know them. This Gentlewoman is the same woman she was herebefore, & yet her trim apparel hath made her another woman: she had the self same face, arms, and legs, that she hath now, and yet they knew her not: & for that she hath other apparel, that she had not before, now they know her. Well Gentleman, I may well punish you for missusing her when she was alive: but here afore all this company, I acquit you for her death. Though these two women are but one witness in deed, yet you yourself have allowed them for two witnesses. For the first that was here you knew not, and this gentlewoman that is here you know: which argueth plainly that you take them to be two several persons. And thus they may be as two witnesses against you: but this good missused Gentlewoman your mother in Law, is the most sufficient witness that can be brought against you in this case. But I pray you Gentlewoman, said the King, why did you suffer this injury at his hands, all this while? forsooth, said she, it may please your highness to understand, that partly I was loath to undo him, though he spoiled me of all I had: and partly I was so scrupulous to keep my oath, though I was enforced to make it, that if it had not been revealed by some other means than by mine own procurement, he should never have been bewrayed for me. I know thou sayest true, said the King, for if it had not been bolted out, more by my means, than it was procured by thine, thou shouldst have lived poorly for want of thine own, and he should have lived lordly, with that, that is thine. Then the Gentleman kneeled down and began to excuse himself: wherewith the King was very angry, and said, prattle no more to me, said the King, thou wouldst have killed this Gentlewoman with thy dagger, for speaking in her right: and shall I suffer thee to live, if thou presume before me to excuse thyself in wickedness and wrong? wilt thou urge me to seek for further witness? bring me said he, hither before me all this Gentleman's servants, that came up with him: And as soon as they came before the King, he asked which of them did dwell with him at the death of his Father, or at the time when the Lady his mother in Law was so suddenly gone. And one of them which then dwelled with him, said: it may please your majesty to understand, that at that time I was his servant and waited on him: then said the king, look thou tell me truth in that I shall ask thee, didst thou know nothing of her departure? neither didst thou see any thing whereby to suspect thy master thereof? Truly said his servant, I saw my master and her walk together out of the house, on whom I would then have waited, but he would not suffer me, & within an hour after, I met my master, with some of her clothes in his arms, which I was sure she did wear, when she and he went forth together. And I asked him what he had there, and where he had left my Lady his mother: and he said to me again, what wouldst thou withal knave? she is none of my mother. And every one did mutter of her thus sudden absence: at the last I said unto him, sir it would be much for your worship, to make search for my Lady: let her kindred and friends search for her, said he, for I will neither go nor send, out of the doors to look for her. And this is very true that I tell your grace, but more I know not. This is enough, said the King, and more than I looked for, but not more than God would: behold through god's providence, thine own man hath told such a tale that it hath tried all that rest to be true. With that the gentleman was ashamed and held down his head. Now, said the King, he holdeth down his head, which in deed is more meet for him, than to hold it up: he hath used this good Lady so wickedly, & so treacherously, that he cannot well look up to take God for his father, me for his Prince, this Lady for his mother, nor any good man here to be his friend. Ah varlet, thou hast lost that name of a Gentleman by villainy, which thy ancestors got by well doing: dost thou not know, that in this my Kingdom of Mauqsun are such good laws and orders, and such worthy judges and Officers, that wicked practices cannot be unrevealed, fraud and falsehood not defended or bolstered, and that the offenders are not long unpunished? I tell thee, that God doth so abhor the wronging of the widow, the defrauding of the fatherless, the oppressing of the poor, and the misusing of the miserable, that he will reveal it, though the crafty worldlings, with all their policy and power do hide it, as by this poor missused Lady doth manifestly appear: for she of herself thought never to utter it, but God of his goodness wrought means to publish it. Well, said the King, I will make thee a spectacle to all other: and now I will proceed in judgement against thee. 
Mark the judgement of the King.  And first, because thou haste made divers lies to me, and specially, one that is notorious, to make us the better to credit thee, which is, that thou madest diligent search after this Gentlewoman, (which thy man hath manifested to the contrary:) therefore, for it, and the rest, thou shalt not speak any word to any body for the space of nine months: and thou shalt wear on thy sleeve all that while, an H. and an L. for a Hurtful Lyar. And because thou didst strip this good Lady thy mother out of her clothes, and put beggarly apparel upon her back, therefore I will see thee here before my face, stripped out of thy attire, and beggarly rags, in stead thereof, to be put upon thee.  Siuqila. 
Did the King himself see the same done?  Omen. 
Yea, what else? for as he had prepared before beggarly attire for his mother, so the King commanded such like attire to be purposely prepared for him: which beggarly attire, when the King saw on his back, he said: now thou art dressed as thou shouldest be: for as thou hast done unto her, so I do unto thee. And because, said the King, thou didst spoil her of all her lands, living, money, goods, jewels and plate, and turned her to spin for her living: so here I will take from thee all thy lands, goods, jewels, money and plate, which she shall possess and enjoy all her life, and all her own goods and jewels, to bestow where she will after her death, and so thou shalt be turned abroad, to get thy living which way thou canst. And whereas thou didst charge her upon her oath, that she should not dwell nigh thee by an hundredth miles: so I charge and command thee upon thine allegiance, that thou shalt dwell from her an hundredth miles at the least. And for that thou didst unlady her, by taking away her apparel, living, and goods: now I ungentleman thee, by taking away thy apparel, thy lands, and thy goods from thee. But though my judgement is, that thou shalt have none of thy goods or lands during thy life: yet my will is, that thy children, if thou haste or shalt have any, shall enjoy all the same, after this Lady's death. And all this my judgement shall stand and be performed, and not be revoked. And now, said the King to the judge and justices, I have to say to you: for as much as this Lady was so suddenly gone away, the bruit whereof you could not choose but hear: and because you caused not inquiry or search for her, though none complained thereof to you, which was your parts to have done, (for good judges and justices ought to inquire and search privily for misdemeanours,) therefore every one of you, as well judges as justices, I discharge of your Offices and authority, commanding every one of you beside, to find two of your poorest neighbours children at school for the space of two years, allowing them all that while, sufficient meat, drink, cloth, and all other necessaries, as well for their learning, as for their finding, commanding every one of you to do, and perform this my judgement, as you will avoid our indignation. For which worthy judgement, the said poor Lady most humbly thanked the King: and all other the King's Subjects that heard of it, rejoiced that they were subjects to such a politic, diligent, righteous, wise and virtuous a Prince. And then the King departed: the Lady to her own, living and goods was restored, and to all her lands admitted: her wicked son in law of all goods and lands dispossessed, and into a strange country banished: the judge and justices out of their authority discharged, and poor men's children nourished and well educated.  Siuqila. 
If two or three that missuse their mothers in law in our Country, were but thus handled, or as their deeds do deserve, so many widows should not be wronged as are. This order that your King useth herein, is a very excellent way for him to know many abuses, and to redress many mischiefs. And though it be costly and chargeable to the King, yet it is very necessary and commodious, to his loving and good subjects.  Omen. 
Nay, the king's Espials do also certify him, of upright judges, godly justices, diligent Officers, and of the wise, godly and well learned, that are of a good report, & are generally well commended, which are rather content with poor livings, than with great dignities, with mean estate, than with high promotion, with decent apparel, than with costly garments, and with necessary food, than with sumptuous fare.  Siuqila. 
But what are such the better though the king know of them?  Omen. 
Forsooth, as the other that practise & commit wickedness, are punished, & according to the law executed: so these are, by the king to promotion and great authority preferred: and the other that are godly, wise, and well learned are to one office or other promoted, though they be never so poor: for the king thinks, that they that are content with a poor and base living, and seek not to be exalted, will if they be in any authority, do justice and equity, and will abhor to take gifts and rewards.  Siuqila. 
Your king thinketh truly: yet it is often times seen, that many before they be in office and authority, do profess that with their tongue, that when they are in office, they never perform in their deeds. But sir, as you told me before, that the suitors in the law with you have not only quick dispatch of their matters, but also have them ended & determined with small costs and charges: even so I think, that such as have an occasion to sue unto any noble man or other, for any particular thing to themselves, are quickly dispatched either off or on.  Omen. 
That is most certain, for this order we have: as soon as any thing is given or granted, either by any Noble man, Lord, or other, the same is registered immediately, to whom it is given or granted (yea, and our King himself doth use that order) whereby none is put in hope of that which before is promised, or given to an other: So that if it be promised or given before, the suitor hath his answer very speedily, that it is given, or that he can not have it. If the thing he sueth for be not given or promised: then our order is, that they to whom he doth sue, shall either give him an answer within a day after, or else shall appoint him an other day.  Siuqila. 
It may be, that the Suitor dwelleth two or three hundredth miles from the same place, wanting money perhaps to tarry long for an answer, or else can not so well travail so far again for his answer.  Omen. 
Nay, three days is the longest that any Suitor with us shall be constrained to tarry for an answer: for if he have not an answer within three days, he shall have the thing he sueth for.  Siuqila. 
There may a great inconvenience arise thereof, for thereby many times the Suitor should be driven to depart without his demand: or else he, to whom the Suit is made, should be urged to give or grant that to one that is unworthy of it: for that in such a short time it could not be learned of what nature, quality, or condition the suitor is.  Omen. 
If that be all the matter that you can allege, the answer need not be long delayed: for every one with us must of force bring a good Certificate or Testimonial, that he is very meet and worthy of the thing he sueth for, or else he cannot speed of the thing he sueth for: For good Report with us doth win that, that Money nor Gifts can never attain.  Siuqila. 
That is very well: but I tell you truly, with us it proveth oft times contrary: for that which good Report or Deserts can not get in a year, Money and Gifts will get in a day. Well, it is no great matter for a man to stay three days to speed well. And to say truth, it is a great deal better for one to tarry three days, and then to have a flat answer not to trust unto it, than to be put in hope with fair promises a twelvemonth, and then to go home without it.  Omen. 
I dare say that there are none so evil used with you.  Siuqila. 
I fear there have been a hundred within less than a hundred years, being fed with fair words, that have waited long, spent much money, and given rewards, and yet have gone home without the thing they sued for: and an other (perhaps not so worthy) in two or three days, with small waiting, and little expenses hath obtained it.  Omen. 
Surely, that is against all reason: it is a pitiful thing, to make one spend his time, and consume his money, for that he shall not have. Long delaying of suitors, hath oftentimes made them lose and spend more, than the thing hath been worth they sued for or got, which is a great enormity, and against all reason. Now, if that be against reason, than it is much more against both reason & equity, to make one through vain hope, to wait long, to lose their time, to spend all they are able to make, for that they shall not have, which is the next way to drive them to beg of other, of whom other before did beg.  Siuqila. 
You say even truly, yet many with us have been so served: I pray God it may so cease, and that none hereafter be so served. But I beseech you tell me, how do poor Suitors with you, that have no money to spend during the time of their suit or complaint?  Omen. 
Though there be few such with us, yet they that be such can lack no relief nor lodging all that while. For many godly Gentlemen, Rich men, and Merchants of the City, do require the Porters of the same, to send unto them such poor strangers and needy Suitors, as they espy when they first enter in at the Gates of the City: which godly Gentlemen, Merchants, and Rich men, will not only joyfully receive them, but also will give them meat, drink, and lodging, during all the time they sue, or are Suitors. So that no poor Suitor can so soon enter into any Town or City with us: but straightway they are thus entertained either of one or other. Are they not so with you?  Siuqila. 
With us, quoth you? we would be loath to be taken with such a fault: if they come without money, they are liker to lie on bare boards than on a featherbed. And they shall not lightly surfeit on their Supper.  Omen. 
I will tell you a true tale of a worthy judge with us, and how he did use a poor woman that had great wrong, and had no money to relieve her at all.  Siuqila. 
Tell it I beseech you, for I will give an attentive ear unto it.  Omen. 
There was a judge with us that feared God, 
A rare judge.  and loved equity so much, that divers times he would walk in the streets early and late, in unknown apparel, only to spy poor strangers and Suitors, and to inquire of them the cause of their travel and suit: who on a certain night met in the street a poor aged Woman, who had a paper or writing in her hand. To whom the judge said: Goodwoman where dwell you, and what is the cause of your coming hither? Forsooth said she, I dwell in the Country, and am enforced to come hither to complain of a wicked Rich man that hath myssused my daughter and I have neither money to pay for food nor lodging. Dost thou know his name, and where he dwelleth? said the judge: Yea that I do, said she, and then she told him his name, and where he dwelled. Where is your daughter? said he: she is in the Town, said the old woman. And then he did give her money in her purse to pay for her supper and lodging, & willed her to inquire the next day for the chief judges house of the City, and to come thither with her daughter, for, said he, I will speak myself to the judge for you: and so she was glad, giving him great thanks for the money which he relieved her withal. And when the said judge came home, he sent for his Porter into his Chamber, to whom he gave straight charge, that when such a poor Woman with her Daughter came unto his Gate, he should delay no time, but immediately bring them both unto him.  Siuqila. 
I think the said poor Woman did not forget, to come with her Daughter the next day to the judges house, as she was appointed.  Omen. 
No I warrant you. And when she and her daughter came thither, the Porter brought them before the judge presently: which poor woman when he saw, he knew her well enough, though she knew him never a whit. Tell me, said the judge, what occasion had you to come to me? whom she answered, saying: It may please your Lordship to understand, that yesternight as I was walking in the street, a good man met with me, who did not only give me money to relieve me and my daughter, but also told me that he would speak to you concerning my cause and suit. Then he said: In deed one spoke to me, and said, that such a Rich man hath missused thy daughter, and to complain on him therefore was the only cause of your coming hither at this time. In deed, said she, that is true, therefore if it will please you to hear all the whole matter, and how he hath abused my daughter, I will declare it as briefly as I can. Tell it, said the judge, and I will hear thee willingly, for I am appointed to sit & hear every body's complaint that cometh hither. Therefore be bold to declar● thy whole cause, and I will both hear thee willingly, and take thy part in right most speedily. Then she said: The Lord save your life O worthy judge: but said the judge, doth not thy complaint tend altogether to the myssusing of thy daughter? Yes my Lord, said she. Then it were more requisite, (said the judge,) that thy daughter should tell her own tale, for none knoweth it better than she. That is true, said the poor Woman. And then the judge commanded her daughter to speak, and to reveal all the truth of the matter unto him. And then her daughter said to the judge as followeth: My Lord, this noughty rich and unmerciful man, which is my mother's neighbour, walked of late through a Grove of his, in which (through my mother's commandment) I was gathering a few old and rotten sticks, to make my mother and me a fire at home (for it was very cold weather) who when he saw me, he was in such a rage and fury with me, that my humble kneeling on my knees could not once move him to forgive me, nor have compassion on me: So that he took and tied me fast unto a tree in the same Wood, and suffered me to be there fast, and would not unbind me, but left me there crying, wailing, and lamenting most pitifully: and there did I so remain all the whole night, 
A tyrannous part.  fast bound unto the foresaid tree, where I think I should have died through cold and for want of food, if (through the goodness of almighty GOD,) one had not come the next morning and loosed me, that heard my pitiful lamentation, mourning, and crying. At which time when I was unbound, I was neither able to go nor stand: and then the man that unloosed me, seeing me in that pitiful case (being both a godly and a merciful man) he did lead me home to my mother's house, 
A godly man.  by little and little as well as he could. And for that he perceived my mother to be a very poor Woman, he did then give my mother money to relieve herself and me withal. Dost thou know the man, said the judge, that thus did lose thee and lead thee home unto thy mother? Yea that I do, said she, and also where he doth dwell. Then the judge said unto the poor woman, I will fence for the man that thus hath myssused thy daughter, and also for him that did unbind thy daughter and brought her home, whereby they shall apere before me at my next sitting in the open Court: and in the mean space both you shall have meat, drink, and lodging in my house. And then the poor woman and her daughter humbly gave him thanks.  Siuqila. 
This was a godly judge in deed, he respected and regarded, that there was and is a general judge in Heaven, that will be merciful to all godly and righteous judges on Earth, and that will so judge the cruel unrighteous affectionate and corrupt judges, that they shall go to the everlasting prison of Hell, where they shall remain in endless torments, without any favour or mercy (unless they repent in time:) but what followed I pray you? did the judge send for them?  Omen. 
You need not doubt that: which men when they came before the judge, neither of them knew wherefore he sent for them, at which time the said poor woman and her daughter were privily placed not far off. And then the judge said to the rich man, that had myssused the poor woman's daughter: I pray you tell me where you were such a day and about such an hour of the same day. Whereat the rich man being something amazed, said nothing: You do well, said the judge, to take good advisement, for you know it is better (especially in this place) to speak the truth leisurely, than to tell a lie rashly, why do you not speak, said the judge? Forsooth my Lord, said the Rich man, I can not well tell, I have almost forgotten. Then said the judge, if I had asked you where you were a twelvemonth or half a year since, than you might rather forget than remember it, but seeing this is so lately, not past three or four days since, it seemeth that either your memory is very evil, or else that the matter which you then did go about was not very good, nor in any respect commendable. But I am of this opinion, that if you had been rob of your goods, or your body well beaten, a quarter or half a year since, you would have remembered the day and the very time of the day of the doing thereof: therefore pluck up your wits, and remember yourself well, but take heed you lie not: my Lord, said he, I will not lie as nigh as I can. And after that he had advised himself a little, he said, my Lord I do not remember but that I was at home all that day: then the judge said, I must have a flat answer, whether it be so or no: therefore if you say it certainly I am answered. And when the rich man perceived, that there was no remedy, but that he must certify the judge, where he was at that time, he said, (thinking that none could or would witness the contrary) my Lord, I am sure that I was at home all that day, and neither road nor went from home. Well, said the judge I am answered, and then he was carried out of the Court until the judge called for him. Then the judge commanded one to go for the rich man's servants, which were but two in all, and to bring them before him, which was quickly done. And then the judge asked one of them whether his master was at home all that day or not, for it is told me that thy master did beat a poor man at his door, such a day, and such an hour, for ask alms: forsooth my Lord, said his servant, he was at home all that day, until a little before night, but at that time he was not at home, therefore they that say so, do bely my master, how knowest thou that said the judge? I know it said he, by a very good token, for within a quarter of an hour after my master was gone, a friend of my masters came purposely to speak with him: whom I answered that my master was newly gone forth, requiring him then to stay a little, for that I thought he would not long be absent, who tarried there a long hour at the least, and then he went away without speaking with him: how long was thy master forth, said the judge: Truly my Lord, said he, two hours at the least, than said the judge, is here all thou canst say? yea my Lord said he: what sayest thou, said the judge to his other servant, which was a woman, was thy master at home such a day all the whole day or not? truly said she, I am certain he was not at home all the whole day. How know'st thou that? said the judge, forsooth my Lord said she, he came into the Kitchen that evening something late, and brought some dry sticks in his hand, & bade me roast meat therewith: to whom I said, here is good dry wood, where got you it? marry, said he, I had it from one that gathered it in my grove, but she had been as good, to have gotten wood a mile off: and here is all that I can tell your Lordship of my masters being from home that day, therefore it is a false lie my Lord, that my master did beat any at his door, for ask of alms, especially at that time, for I am most sure that he was then from home. And as it appeareth by his own saying, he was then, or about that time, in a grove of wood of his own. well, said the judge, you have done like true and good servants, your witnessing of that truth will make your master annoyed much trouble: but will you take your oaths, said the judge, that this is true? yea said they with all our hearts. And then the judge deposed them, and caused their examinations to be written.  Siuqila. 
Then the judge very politicly used the matter, to make them willing, and to draw them on to tell the truth.  Omen. 
He did so. And then the two servants and witnesses were commanded aside, and not to come until they were sent for. At which time the judge commanded the Rich man to be brought before him, and then caused him to stand among other people that were there, and not in the open face of the Court: and then he sent for the Wench, that the Rich man had so wickedly handled: to whom, he said: maid, where were you such a day, and at such an hour? forsooth my Lord, said she, I was in such a groan, gathering of sticks for to make a fire for my mother and me. Art thou sure thou wast there then? said the judge: yea my Lord, said she, I have both a token to know it, and 〈◊〉 cause to remember it, yea and that such a one, as I shall never forget as long as I live: belike (said the judge) the token was either very good or very ill. Well, seeing thou art sure, that then thou wast there, I am satisfied, thinking verily that thou tellest me no lie. Then the judge called for the man, that loosed the Wench from the tree & led her home to her mother, saying: I pray you my friend where were you such a morning, about such an hour? my Lord, said he, about that time as me as I can guess, I was going towards such a place, and as I was going I heard one groaning & making pitiful moan, whereunto I gave such ear, that by the sound, at the last I came to the place where a young maid was hard and fast tied to a tree, which doleful sight did so much grieve me, that it was not long before I unbound her, who was so frozen with the cold, that then she could neither go nor stand, and then as charity did will me, I helped her home to her poor mother's house, as well as I could: and so, through God's good providence, I was made an instrument to save the girls life. Then said the judge, this is a very good token that then you were there, & a certain sign, that she was not far thence? & you did not so good a deed in losing her from the tree, but he did as wicked a deed that tied her to the tree.  Siuqila. 
The rich man that bond her to the Tree, had an evil quaking heart of his own all this while, when he heard the good man tell this tale: but what said the judge then further?  Omen. 
Marry he asked the man that unbound her, whether he knew the same maid, if he saw her or not? yes my lord said he, that I do, for this same is she that standeth here, & I believe, said he, she hath not forgotten me: no sir, said the maid, I have a good cause to remember you, you are the man through God's goodness that saved my life. Then said the judge to the maid, I perceive thou knowest him that unloosed thee from the tree: but I think that know'st not him that bound thee to the tree: yes sir, said the maid, that I do, if I might see him, I know him well enough. Then said the judge to her, look among all that throng, & if thou can espy him bring him to me: & then the W●̄ch looked among the people, & espied him, on whom she took hold, saying: my Lord I have him here, this is he: whom the Officers brought then before the judge: how say you sirrah, said the judge, were you at home all the day as you told me, or were you at your Grove? this young Maiden, me thinks tells a perfect token that you were from home: but he said nothing: why dost thou not speak? said the judge, if thou art not able to speak for thyself, it will be hard to find ●●ye other that can do it? your silence showeth you are not altogether faultless, this maid hath complained to me that such a day & about such an hour, one did bind her fast (belike for falling) to a tree, in such a grove (which grove I think you will not deny to be yours) and for the better trial that the Girl doth say true, here is an honest man hath witnessed that such a morning it was his chance to hear her, and find her, whereby he unbound her, and so carried her home to her mother, for she was not able to go of herself: and to say truth, both by her own sayings, and by this honest man's report, she was thereby more like to die than to live. And for that she flatly affirmeth that you are the man that bond her to the tree, I can not choose but believe it: & the rather for that the grove is yours: Then said the rich man, my Lord, though the grove be mine, that proveth not, that I bound her to the tree, neither her binding doth argue that I did it: that is true, said the judge, but her knowing and accusing of you, is rather a proof than a presumption. Oh my Lord, said he, give not too much credit to the Girl, for she of purpose no doubt, names this matter against me: then said the judge, it may be that she may feign of you, but I dare boldly say, she fableth not of herself, for here is one that witnesseth, that she was abused. My Lord, said the rich man, pleaseth it you to understand, that some noughty disposed fellow meeting her there, perhaps would have misused her, who not able to get her good will, and fearing lest she should descry him, thought neither to kill her, whereby he was sure to be without danger of the law, neither to set her at liberty, whereby she should exclaim or complain of him presently. And for that (as it doth appear) it was something late, he might be the more bold to do it, because afterwards if she did escape, she should not very well know him, y●a though she met him in the face: to whom the judge answered, though the dark might make her to forget him, yet the light hath made her to remember you: but I pray you said the judge, let me go thus far with you, what decision hath the Wench, to turn the great 〈◊〉 of her f●e, into a small fault of herself? Do you think that if one had tied her to a tree because she would not suffer him to abuse her, would she excuse him, and say she was bound to the tree for gathering of sticks? Who will think or once believe, that a stranger or one that had nothing to do therein, would therefore so handle her? So that reason doth fully resolve me, that none would so extremely use her, but only the owner of the Wood And now, for that you are the owner of the Wood, it is impossible that any other should so cruelly handle her for gathering of wood, but only you that are the owner thereof. O my Lord, said the Rich man, she doth this, I think, of spite: Canst thou make me believe, said the judge, that she caused herself to be tied to a tree all a cold frosty night, which was enough to kill her, only to spite thee withal, or to bring thee to trouble? She might have found means to have troubled thee with more ease to herself. But for as much as she complaineth that she was tied to a tree, and this man confesseth that he found her tied to a tree, and that she plainly affirmeth that you tied her to a tree, and that you are owner of the Grove where she was so bound to a tree: therefore it can not choose but that you are the same man that tied her to the tree. And for the better manifesting of the matter, you are taken in a trip with your own tale, for you affirmed to me, and that advisedly, that all that day you kept your own house and went not abroad, which I am able to say is a manifest lie, for which you are like to pay full dearly: for thy man hath confessed and sworn to the contrary. O my Lord said he, my man mistaketh the day: then said the judge, if he purposely have told a lie, than purposely he shall be punished for telling a lie: but there is no reason why herein he should tell a lie, for in this case he could gain nothing to tell a lie, but avoid great danger by speaking of truth. But you perhaps (seeing yourself in a snare) by telling a lie might shun a mischief, and by uttering a truth might be driven to some danger. And now because thou dost stand so stiffly in such a shameful cause, I have another of thine own servants such a witness against thee, that thou wast not only from home at that time, but also that then thou broughtest dry sticks from thy said Grove, to whom thou confessest, that thou tookest the same then from a wench, saying: she had been better to have gotten sticks, or wood a mile off: wherein thou toldest truth, for her gathering of sticks there, had like to have cost her her life. And when the wicked rich man heard the judge speak these words, as one confounded, he fell on his knees, and desired the judge to be good unto him.  Siuqila. 
And was the judge favourable to him after he submitted himself?  Omen. 
You shall hear how favourable he was unto him. Ah, said the judge, thou crouchest when thou art constrained, and yieldest against thy will, what Devil did be witch thee? what spirit did inc●●se thee? or what fiend did enforce thee, so cruelly to use this poor girl, for succouring herself, by not hurting thee? thou couldst have been content to have given two or three loads of wood, to some one, that perhaps was warm enough, or that stood not in need of it: and couldst not thou find in thy heart, to suffer this poor wench to gather a few sticks to warm herself withal, whereof she stood in great need? who makes thy wood grew but only God? and who giveth thee thy wealth but only he? And canst not thou spare, out of thy great abundance of wood (which thou canst never spend all thy life) a handful of sticks (that other ways would rot and do no good) to save the poor member of Christ from starving? If thou were a poor traveler by the way, and very dry, not able to buy thee any drink, and shouldest take an Apple that were fallen from the tree, whereon there were two or three thousand Apples, to quench thy thirst withal, wouldst thou be content that the owner of the Appels should tie thee to the same tree therefore all night, yea though it were in Summer, when the nights are most short, and also little cold or none? I am right sure thou wouldst not, nay thou wouldst think (as thou mightest well enough) that he that should so use thee, were a cruel cutthroat. Then what a wicked wretch, & an unmerciful miser art thou, that hast tied this poor girl to a tree, leving her there so bound a whole Winter's night, yea, and in most extreme cold, for gathering a few sticks among such a great number of thy trees, to warm herself withal? how canst thou look for mercy at God's hand, seeing this poor girl hath found such unmercifulness at thy hand? Well, because thou & such as thou can not find in your hearts here to give the poor wood to warm them here withal: I am sure unless they repent & be more merciful, the Devil will not be so niggardely to you, but will give you fire enough for nothing in hell to warm you withal. Dost thou not remember that Christ spoke a little short Sentence, wherein consisteth the Law and the Prophets? which is, Whatsoever ye would that other should do to you do even the same to them. And now because thou takest thyself to be a christian, I hope thou hast done to this poor girl as thou wouldst she should do to thee. Therefore accordingly I will proceed in judgement with thee. But first, 
A righteous judgement.  because thou hast made a lie to me, I will that thou speak not a word these three months unless in such case as law doth allow: & thou shalt wear on thy sleeve all that while an H & an L And for binding this wench to a tree in thy grove all a cold night: my judgement is, to have thee bound to the same tree all this next night, from which none shall lose thee: & whereas the wench was put in great hazard of life, for that thou neither any other for thee did unbind her: but by the good providence of God she was unbound by one that came to her through her pitiful moan: even so thou shalt not be unbound until some that shall come that way through thy crying or calling, shall lose or unbind thee.  Siuqila. 
This judgement was hardly performed I think, for one or other hearing it, would so reveal it, that some for friendship or money, would unbind him in the night.  Omen. 
Nay that could not be, for the judge gave that judgement very secretly, for none knew of it but such as he might well trust. And also his judgement was, that if he were unbound any part of that night, or contrary to the same judgement, that he should be bound unto the same tree two other nights more for the same, which judgement was privily told him when he was first bound to the tree: and moreover he was well enough watched, that he could not be unbound all that while.  Siuqila. 
That is another manner of matter: that was such a way for fear of farther punishment, that if any would have loosed him before the time, he himself would have desired them not to do it. They say it is an evil bargain that no body winneth at: then this was no good bargain, for neither the Girl nor he gained by it.  Omen. 
Yea but the Maid got more by it than he did, for it was judged beside, that the Wench should during her life, enjoy and possess the fourth part of all his Lands, to help her and her poor mother withal, because through the great cold that she got that night, her legs and other limbs were so benumbed, that they would not serve her to travel nor to get her living as they did before.  Siuqila. 
But was this judgement performed in all points?  Omen. 
Yea, there was no part of it omitted or left undone.  Siuqila 
And if a rich man with us should myssuse a poor Wench in such order, I fear he should not be punished in such order. Well, though poor men's wrongs with us are not so commonly heard, so quickly dispatched, and so reasonably redressed as they are with you, yet I will tell you of one (for all the rest) whose cause was presently heard, and speedily dispatched, by a famous judge with us.  Omen. 
Was he an inferior judge, or one of the higher judges?  Siuqila. 
He was the chiefest judge of all our Realm, for it was the King himself: which famous fact was not done so long since, but that some now alive do know it for truth. And although no Country in all the World can compare with your Country of Mauqsun, for godly judges, righteous judgement, and speedy dispatch of matters, yet I will be so bold as to tell you this in the commendation of our Country.  Omen. 
Begin I beseech you, for I will most willingly hear you.  Siuqila. 
As we have had more Lawyers, than well learned, & more greedy than godly: so, 
A pleasant tale of a Country man that came to the King.  not very long since, we had a certain Lawyer, conversant among the rest, whose learning whether it was equal with the others I know not, but his gains was not so great as theirs I am sure, whereby he was driven to change his place, and to seek a new seat: & he understanding that in the West parts of our Country, were many matters & few Lawyers, and many contentions, & few counsellors, went thither not richly appareled, nor yet moneyed. Who within a while for his counsel (I will not say for his craft) was not only in great credit, but also of good countenance: so that as be●●re he had scant money to help himself, now he had more than enough to undo his neighbours withal: for there was one neighbour of his had a Farm or Holding, whose ground lay so nigh him, that all his device was, which way to come by it, but his first drift was, to buy his neighbour's interest therein if it might be, but his neighbour by no means would sell it: which practise when he saw would not perform his purpose, he went to the Abbot, to whom the same did belong, and desired to take the same Farm in reversion of him and the Covent: but then he could not allure the Abbot thereto by any means. Yet after he being very importunate, (not dashed with one denial as one more shameless than shamfaste) the Abbot said, (being very loath to let him have it) though I would grant it you, yet that is nothing, unless the covent agree thereto, which I believe you shall hardly or never obtain. Who seeing that he could not get the Abbot's good will, he practised with the whole Covent: who through his fair words, large proffers, and goodly presents, got them to grant him their good wills. So that at length through his diligence, and the Covents procurementes, the Abbot was also thereto alured. And when he had gotten a grant thereof, & also the same confirmed under the Abbot and Covents Seal, he was not a little joyful, thinking by one fraud or other within a while to hoist the true meaning Tenant out of his Farm. And after (watching to take him in a trip, as the Spider doth to catch the silly Fly in her web) he cometh to his neighbour and said, sirrah thou hast forfeited thy Lease, for thou haste cut down two trees, therefore I charge thee quietly to avoid from thy House & Ground, and my Lord Abbot and his Covent, do command thee to do the same, & if thou wilt not go out by fair means, thou art like to be thrust out by force which. When the plain & honest Farmer heard, he said, though I have cut down two trees, I have not forfeited my Lease, for I have done it only to serve my necessary turn withal, wherein my Lease doth warrant me: and therefore I will neither go out of my Farm, for my Lord Abbot, his covent, nor for you, do what you can. Wherewith this Lawyer was not a little moved, saying, I will handle thee well enough, seeing thou art so lusty, thou shalt find in striving with me that thou hast made a sorry match. And so the Lawyer departed from him, in a fume, who made a full account (by his power and policy) within a while to make the poor unlearned Farmer, both Houselesse, and Groundless. And because he would not long delay the matter, he got out processes, whereby the Farmer was enforced privily to keep his house: which Farmer being weary thereof, & should thereby be more weary at length, perceiving also though his matter were never so true, that the Lawyer with his power & purse, at length would make it false, determined with himself, not to tarry the trial of his matter in that Country, but to go to him, that was the chief of all the Lawyers in the Land, where he should have his matter quickly ended, truly judged, and with small cost prosecuted.  Omen. 
I pray you before whom was that?  Siuqila. 
Forsooth, even before the King himself, who I am sure was the chief and head of all the Lawyers of the land.  Omen. 
Whosoever gave him that counsel, did not counsel him much amiss, but did he go to the King indeed?  Siuqila. 
Yea that he did: and I believe you will say that he had more law of the King for twelve pence, than he should have had at home for a Royal.  Omen. 
It may be so, and it is a very like thing: but how got he out of his house for fear of arresting?  Siuqila. 
Well enough, for he called his wife up early in the morning before day, willing her to shut the door after him, for said he, I must go to ask counsel of one, that I hope will help me out of my trouble: & therefore look not for me again in haste, for I cannot tell how long it will be ere I come again, but I will make all the haste home that I can And so he took his leave of his wife, & went strait to the Court, where then the King did lie: & he being a homely man of the country, having a Bill on his shoulder, the Porters asked him who he was, & what he would have: & he said to them, that he would speak with the King: to whom one of the porters said, may no worse man serve you to speak withal but the King? no, said he, my errand is to him, & with him will I speak ere I go: them I perceive, said the Porter, there is no remedy but you will needs speak with the King: yea that I will, said he: to whom he said again, what if the king will not speak with you? tut, said the plain Farmer, I know he will speak with me, if he knew I were here: therefore I pray thee Porter said the Farmer, tell the King that I would speak with him. And if thou wilt do so much for me, whensoever thou comest into our Country, I will help thee to the speech of such a Gentleman, if thou stand in need, & then thou mayst say, I have quit one good turn for another. At whose words the Porter began to smile, saying: do you think Father that the King is as easy to be spoken withal, as one of your Gentlemen is? yea, why not, said the Farmer, he is but a man, as another man is: that is true said thee Porter, yet though he be but as another man is, he is able to do more than any other can do: I know that well enough, said the Farmer, or else I would not have come so far to speak with him as I have done. Well father said the Porter. I would I could help you to the speech of him, but I cannot, for I am appointed to be one of his highness Porters, so that I must wait here upon my charge: but I am content you shall go into the Court, where I warrant you, right quickly you shall meet with one or other, that will help you to the speech of his Grace. I thank you good Porter, said the Farmer. And then he went further into the Court, who within a while after saw a Gentleman gorgeously appareled, to whom straight way he went, saying: may I be so bold to speak a word with you master king? but the Gentleman answered him by and by, father you mistake me, my name is not King: I think so, said the Farmer, but are you not our comely king and chief of all our Land? no father said the Gentleman, that is to high a dignity for me, I am but one of his poor servants: say you so, said the Farmer, you are a goodly man, he goes not trimmer than you I trow: yes, said the Gentleman, that he doth, and thou never sawest a goodlier man in all thy life than he is. Would you speak with the king? said the Gentleman: yea that I would, said he, and if you will bid him come & speak with me I will give you a good groat for your labour: the Gentleman smile thereat, said: I had rather bring you to the king for nothing, than to bring the King to you for a groat. But father, said the Gentleman, seeing you are desirous to speak with t●e King, if you will follow me, I will bring you to him: I thank you, said the plain Farmer. And then he followed the Gentleman with the Bill on his back.  Omen. 
I think he came sooner to the speech of the King by his plainness, than some that were a great deal more curious.  Siuqila. 
Yea that I am sure he did, and then when the Gentleman came nigh to the Tennis Court, where the King was a playing, he bade the Farmer stay a little until he came back again from the King. And then the said Gentleman went to the King and told him, that there was a very homely Farmer of the Country was come to speak with his Grace, for whom if his Grace would send, and that he would speak with him, he would have very great delight in him: to whom the king said, bring him hither to me, and I will stay my play, to talk with him. And then the Gentleman went to the plain Farmer, and willed him to go with him, and he should speak with the King: that I will said the Farmer, with a good will, and I thank you too. And so the gentleman brought him into the Tennis Court, where the King was: which is our comely King said the Farmer? that same is he, said the Gentleman, and pointed him to the King, who then was in his shirt: you mock me, said the Farmer, that man goeth in his shirt: and the King, I am sure, need not go in his shirt for lack of clothes. He doth it for his pleasure, said the Gentleman, he hath better clothes if it please him to wear them: but if thou wilt speak with him, lo, there he is, go to him. And then this plain and homely Farmer approached nigh unto the King, with his Bill on his shoulder, and said: are you our comely King? to whom the King answered: how comely I am, I know not, but that I am the King of this realm I know: art thou come to speak with me? If you be our King, said he, I am come to speak with your Maship, therefore I pray you mock me not, for I will not conclare my cause to none but to the King his own self. Whose talk, when the King heard, he smiled, and said: be bold to say unto me what thou wilt, for I am the King indeed: none but myself, I think, will be so bold to take it upon him. You may be the King, said the Farmer, but this same man that brought me to you, is more like a King than you. But now sir, seeing you are our Master King indeed, I am come to ask your counsel. For I tell you truly, the Lawyers are so dear, especially in our Country, that they will have a Noble almost for nothing, and yet a man shall be no wiser when he is gone from them, than when he came to them. And because you are a King, I believe you are as well skilled in the law as the best of them all: And because I must needs pay money for Counsel, I had rather your Maship had my money than an other. Wherefore I pray you, good Master King, let me know your vice. Well Father, said the King, I am but a sorry Lawyer. Yea sir, said the Farmer, you do well, to mispraise yourself: but I like you never the worse for that: for with us it is seen, that the greatest crackers are the slenderest clerk: but I will say this unto you, (take it as you list) if you be not well learned, the fault is in yourself, for my master your father was as able to pay for your schooling, as the best man in all our parish. Thinkest thou so said the King? I think thou dost but guess: nay it passeth guessing, said the Farmer or else saving your reverence, some have told me more than truth: then said the King tell me thy mind, & I will not only give thee the best council I can, but also do for thee what I am able. Then said the Farmer, God save your life good M. King, I see well now that one were better go to the head than to the feel, there are some with us, that have not so much living as you by report, that are so full of curmosity, that they make such poor plain men as I abashed to go and speak to them, therefore I can you thank M. King, that you will so gently hear a poor man yourself. I pray thee good fellow said the King, tell me wherein thou wouldst have my council, than said the Farmer, marry sir thus it is, there is a Lawyer with us, that was not worth a grey groat when he came first into our country, & he had such a thread bare gown that a louse (I may say to you) could scant take hold on it, but now he is so full of money, (through his crafty counseling) that he is able to buy poor men's Farms over their heads, & to make their leases end before they be half done. Hath he done so by thee said the King? yea and please your maship, said the Farmer because I would not sell him the lease of my Farm, he hath taken it in subversion, & I tell you it lieth so near his nose, that he troubleth me with woortes, that I dare not tarry at home, for fear of resting, so that he maketh himself sure to heave me out of it either by hook or crook. Then said the King, though he hath got it in reversion, which thou callest subversion, yet thou must enjoy thy years: you have conclared it very truly said the Farmer, for even so I should if he were an honest man: then said the King, doth he say thy lease is not good, or that thou hast forfeited thy lease? In deed he saith that I have forfeated my lease, because I have caused two trees to be cut down, which I did only for mine own necessaties, for my barn and my cart. Therefore here is my lease, & if you can read it, tell me whether I have forfeited it or no, by cutting down of the same two trees, nay it is a good fist I tell you for one of my youngest boys wrote it.  Omen. 
The King had good sport to hear the homely Farmer talk, I dare say, but did the King stand all that while in his shirt, and did he also read his lease?  Siuqila. 
Yea that he did, & when the King had red & perused his lease, then the Farmer said how likes your maship my lease? to whom the king answered, fear not, thy lease is very good: if thou had cut down half a score trees for thy necessaries about thy Farm, thy lease were not forfeited thereby, say you so, said the Farmer, because you have clarified the meaning of my lease so well, you shall be my lawyer an other time, & though it be but small, yet take this as a fee for your pain, & therewith he took xii. pence out of his purse, & would needs give it to the King, & when the King saw that so importunately he threaped it on him, he took it & put it between his shirt & his bare skin, which when the King felt, he said merrily, I beshrew thy knaves heart, thy money is cold. Then said the Farmer, seeing your maship saith that my lease is good, upon your word I dare venture to go to the law, but the Courts are costly, and the suits there so long, that I am loath to have my matter tried in any of them, yet tell me said the King, in what Court wouldst thou have thy cause to be discussed. I like them also well said the Farmer, that I care not if I come in none of them all. Therefore I pray you good master King, help that my matter may be in such a Court, where I may ●oone be dispatched & spend little money. Because thou art a good plain fellow, said the King, thou shalt have thy matter tried in such a Court, as thou desirest: but canst thou be content said the King that I shall be judge of thy cause? content said the Farmer? yea with all my heart: if thou wilt follow my counsel, said the King, thy matter shall cost thee no money, and it shallbe ended within this hour or two at the furthest: marry that is even it that I look for, but have you any Lawyers in this speedy and easy Court that you speak of: no said the King, if there were▪ but three or four such Lawyers (said the Farmer, as the Lawyer that troubleth me, my matter would not be ended this two or three years. Well, said the King, for this matter, at this time I will be thy judge. I will, that as soon as thou comest home, that the Lawyer that thus doth trouble thee, shall not only suffer thee quietly to enjoy thy Lease, during the term thereof: but also shall pay thee towards thy costs and charges, an hundred pounds. I like this well, said the Farmer: but how shall I come by the money? I will send a Letter or a Bill to him, said the King, that he shall perform this my commandment: and also pay thee the same money. Tut, said the Farmer, he cares for no Bills, I have seen Gentlemen send Bills unto him, and he hath regarded them no more, than I regard a Rush. Then said the King, he will regard my letter more, I warrant thee. Then said the Farmer, what if he do not regard your Maships' letter, how shall I do then? Thou needest not doubt, said the King, but he will perform my Letter as soon as he seeth it: but to make all things the more sure, thou shalt have an other writing with thee, sealed with our Signet, which when he seeth, he will not be long a performing it. If this that you say, will make him to do it, I will give your Maships' horse a night's grass, when you come into our Country, and he shall far no worse than my wives kine do far. God a mer●ie for that, said the king. Nay, said the Farmer, you shall have a mess of Cream for your own mouth besides that. I perceive Father, thou meanest to bestow some cost on me. Yea, said the Farmer, you are not every man. No, said the King, for if I were every man, than thou musie give every man's horse grass for a night, which all the grass thou haste will scantly perform. And thus the King and he passed in pleasant talk, whiles the writings were a making. And then the King set his own hand to the Letter and Writing: and so they were sealed as is before said.  Omen. 
The plain Farmer had good luck to happen on such a judge, he might have gone to all the judges of your Country, and not have sped so well.  Siuqila. 
That is most true. And then the King said, Father, lo, take this my Letter, and deliver it to the Lawyer that doth molest or trouble thee: and I charge thee, give him no time for thy hundredth pounds, but receive it forthwith upon his sight of the Letter: and if he refuse to obey my Letter, (as I believe he will not) then deliver him this Writing, sealed with my Signet, & then I warrant thee, he will forthwith perform all that therein is contained: for if he do not, I will make that Country too hot for him. Now God reward you, said the Farmer, I might have gone further, and sped worse. Then the King said, seeing thou hast given me the first fees that ever I took, and the last that ever I will take: now I will give thee the first reward that ever thou receivedst of a King, and perhaps the last that ever thou shalt receive of a King: which, if thou be a good husband, will bear thy charges home: and therewith the King gave him money. Barlady Master, said the Farmer, I had good luck to come to you: if I had tarried at home, the Lawyer would perhaps have had me in prison ere this: but if he use not me well, I perchance may have him in prison ere it be long. Then said the King, farewell good Father, and if the Lawyer resist thee, let me know it with speed: whereby I will find such means, that he shall never trouble thee more. Now God be with you, good Master King, said the Farmer. And this I may well say, that you are the quickest dispatcher of matters, and the least taker of Fees, of all the judges that ever I knew.  Omen. 
It is no doubt but that the Farmer went home with a merry heart.  Siuqila. 
Could you blame him? Would it not make one glad that was every day in fear of imprisoning or losing his living, to be relieved and released of his care and sorrow? beside the seeing of his enemy so suddenly to be vanquished? yes I warrant you. And then the Farmer with his bill on his back, went merrily home, and he coming home late in the night, he knocked at his door, and immediately his wife did let him in.  Omen. 
But did not the Lawyer marvel where he was become all this while?  Siuqila. 
Yes forsooth did he, and being very merry for his absence, he declared abroad that he was run away for fear, but that case was suddenly altered, for the next Sunday after, the Farmer came to the Lawyer being in the Church, and said, Sir you have gone about long to trouble and vex me, and all to get my living from me, but now I hope the matter is taken up between you and me: who hath taken up the matter said the Lawyer? if any have done it, that is more than I know, said he: than said the Farmer, he that hath done it, is thought to be a ●ufficient man to end a greater matter than this. Then said the Lawyer, who willbe so bold, to determine any matter of mine without my consent? yes said the Farmer, he that did it dare do it well enough: though you take yourself to be a jolly fellow in this country, & think you may bind Bears here, he is taken for as jolly a fellow where he dwelleth, yea & may bind bulls there: then said the Lawyer, though he rule there yet he can not rule here: then said the Farmer you dare not tell him so: dare I not said the Lawyer, yes & rather than he should take up any matter of mine, I would go to the law with him: though you are a Lawyer, yet you make but a wrong match to go to the Law with him said the Farmer, and therewith he took the King's letter out of his bosom, and said, he that hath ordered the matter between us, hath sent you a letter, read it, and then you shall see who hath sent it. Then said the Lawyer (when he looked on it) I perceive it cometh from the kings Majesty, I will read it and that willingly, and when he had red the letter, he said, neighbour you needed not to have taken this pains to make the King an arbitrator between us, a worse man might have served well enough, you should have found me reasonable enough, without such cost or travel to the King, if you had come and talked with me yourself. Yea marry said the Farmer, if I had come unto you, I should have found you so reasonable, that you would have taken nothing for reason but the yielding of my living: you that can be content without all Law and reason to trouble me wrongfully, and to take my Farm unrighteously, would scant use me reasonably. You know, said be, I am sure, what our King hath written unto you? yea, said the Lawyer very well: then I trust said the Farmer you will suffer me to occupy my Farm quietly: yea that I will said the Lawyer, for I will not disobey the kings commandment in any point: to whom the Farmer said, than I trust you will pay me my hundredth pound forthwith that the King hath appointed by his letter. I will pay you it neighbour said the Lawyer, but I pray you give me some respite for the payment thereof, for I have not so much ready money to give you: set your heart at rest said the Farmer, I will have it by and by, I will give you no days, therefore tell me whether I shall have it or not. I pray you neighbour said the Lawyer bear with me, for I have it not now ready for you. Yea but, said the Farmer, if you might have my Farm at the payment of that money, I know you would pay it quickly and that within an hour. Now seeing you have an hundredth pound in a readiness to undo me withal, than I am sure you have a hundredth pound (though not so willingly) to help me, or to perform the kings pleasure withal. Therefore make no more a do, for I will have it presently, and if you think this letter of the Kings own hand, is not sufficient, here is an other sealed with the kings privy Signet, which when the Lawyer perceived, though he made a fair show outwardly, it grieved him not a little inwardly, and then he caused the money to be fetched, and so paid the Farmer the hundredth pound that was appointed by the King. And when the Farmer had his money, he said to the Lawyer, master Lawyer, as you like this, trouble your poor neighbours again. And then the Lawyer went forth of the Church very sorrowfully: And the Farmer and his neighbours went home very joyfully.  Omen. 
The Farmer happened on a very good judge. Your King was marvelously to be commended therein: he helped the poor Farmer speedily, he rewarded him liberally, and enriched him with his enemies substance politicly, and made him enjoy his right according to equity, and feared other from taking their neighbour's livings wrongfully. If he had not gone to the King, he should surely have been wronged at home. Affability in a Prince is a worthy Virtue, whereby much goodness doth grow: for if your King had been proud and disdainful, and had been given to a stately look, rather than to an affable countenance, this poor Farmer then durst neither have gone to him, neither he himsfelf would vouchsafe to speak with him: but being clean of a contrary disposition: the poor Farmer was emboldened to go to the King, & the King was most willing to talk with his poor subject: both which were such occasions, that the oppressed was relieved, helped and succoured: and the oppressor was from his mischievous pretence restrained.  Siuqila. 
Indeed Affability in a Prince is a worthy virtue, whereby much mischief is avoided, and great goodness doth grow: as by this last example, and by divers other before doth manifestly appear. Sir, seeing you have so severe and affable a Prince, than all his Officers dare do none other, but justly and truly, according to their charge and duty.  Omen. 
No I warrant you: if a poor man or any other Suitor complain to the King, as they may very easily, for every day (except certain times) at a certain hour in the afternoon, as I told you before, the King himself doth sit openly at the gates of his Court, only to hear poor complaints or other Suits, whereby they shall not need to procure friends, to help them to the speech of the King, neither shall be driven to stay long, either for redress, or an answer.  Siuqila. 
It is a very good order especially for the poor, that have no money to make friends, nor yet to relieve them in staying so long about their suits. But I beseech you tell me, what if the King should commit a poor man's Bill, into the hands of some that he appointeth therefore, to bring it unto him and to put him in remembrance thereof, and the same that hath the poor man's bill, doth keep it from the King, and delay the poor man with fair words, through Friendship, Bribes, or Rewards?  Omen. 
None dare do so with us for their lives: for then the next day or soon after, the complainant may certify the King thereof, and then I warrant you, he that should so neglect the King's commandment, and keep the writing from the King, should pay full dearly for it.  Siuqila. 
Yea but it is possible, that he that the King putteth in trust with the said writing (to avoid that danger) may commit the poor man to prison, that he should not complain to the King: whereby the poor man may be constrained, for fear of long punishment, to agree with his oppressor for little or nothing, and so be never the better, but rather the worse for complaining to the King.  Omen. 
You doubt more than needs, there can be no such thing with us: marry there was once such a like fact committed with us, but the offender was so handled ●or it, that never since any did or durst offend in the like.  Siuqila. 
I pray you tell me in what sort it was?  Omen. 
That I will willingly, therefore mark it advisedly. On a time when the King was sitting at the gates, 
A tale worth the marking of a wicked Remembrancer.  to hear suitors, and men's complaints, a poor man came to the King, and gave him a Bill or Supplication, and desired his Grace to look on it: which the King very gently received of the poor man. But for that, the King had then many matters to debate (not having sufficient time, to look on the poor man's Supplication) he gave the same Supplication to one of his Remembrancers, commanding him to deliver it unto him that night, or the next day at the furthest. Which the Kings Remembrancer did not, either for that he was his friend, or had given him a reward, on whom the poor man complained in his Bill: or else because the poor man gave him not some reward, to remember him to the King. Which poor man came diverse and sundry times to the said Remembrancer, but he said, that the King was not yet at leisure to look on his Supplication. To whom the poor man said, sir I have little or no money to spend, and moreover, I muse that it is so long ere the King look on it, for he commanded you, to deliver it unto him the same night, or the next day at the furthest: what, said the King's Remembrancer, must the King read it when it pleaseth you? well, said the poor man, I pray you deliver me my Supplication again, and I will trouble you therewith no further: for to morrow I will give it unto the King's Majesty myself. Then the King's Remembrauncer (being very angry) said, thou shalt not have it, I am put in trust, and it is my office to deliver it, therefore thou shalt tarry the longer. Sir said the poor man, though it be your office to remember the King of poor men's suits and complaints: yet it is more than your● office, to keep men's Bills and Supplications from the King, that he shall not read them. Then the King's remembrancer said, dost thou tell me my duty? I will teach thee how thou shalt control thy Superiors: and therewith he sent him to prison, commanding him to be closely kept, that none but the keeper of the prison should speak with him.  Siuqila 
Indeed that was the next way, to keep the poor man from his right, and the King from the truth: but how did the poor man then? for he could have no body to tell the King of his case.  Omen. 
He did well enough, for the King being of a good and perfect remembrance, within two or three days after, said unto his said Remembrancer: why do you not deliver me the poor man's Bill or Supplication, that I gave you to keep such a day? forsooth, said he to the King, I have lost it: yea said the King, you are good to be a poor man's Solicitor: why did you not tell me thereof before I did ask you? then said he, I was afraid to tell your Majesty of it, meaning to have the poor man to make another, before your Grace should have known it. Then said the King, why got you not the poor man to do so? then he said to the King, I did never see him since. Then said the King, the absence of the poor man, and your losing of his Supplication coming both so jump together, is not very well to be liked. Then said the King's Remembrancer, it is like that he is agreed, with the party that he complained of; or else I should have heard of him ere this. Then the King said, 
Politic words to make the Remembrancer not to suspect.  it may be so, & it is very like, but if the fellow come to you bring him to me, that I may know the cause of his complaint. And soon after the King changed his apparel, making himself like a servingman, and went out at a privy Postornegate, and so inquired in the prisons, what prisoners were there, and so by talking with many of them, did understand of this poor man that was kept in close prison, and thereupon the King being like a servingman, desired the keeper of the prison that he might speak with him: nay, said the jailer, you shall pardon me: what apparel hath he? said the King: and then the keeper told him: which apparel the King remembered well, whereby he perceived it was the same man he looked for. Then said the King, seeing you will not let me speak with him, tell me I pray you, at whose suit or commandment doth he lie here, that I may be suitor to them for him? marry said the keeper, as far as I know, one of the King's Remembrancers sent him hither: God a mercy, said the King, and now seeing I cannot speak with him, I pray thee be good unto him, and I will go about to release him: and the King then departed from the prison. And as soon as the King had conveyed himself privily into the Court, he sent for the said poor man, that was then thus kept so in close prison (unknown to the King's Remembrancer.) And when he came before the King, he told the King how he was committed to prison, by the King's Remembrancer, and told him the occasion thereof: yea, said the King, if we should commit poor men's causes to such Remembrancers, 
A thing to be marked.  and not look to them ourselves, the oppressors should be remembered and the oppressed should be forgotten: and the defrauders should be defended, and the defrauded utterly impoverished. If we should wink at such wrongs, & suffer such officers, the poor within a while would rather lose their right than sue for their own. Then the King bade the poor man keep himself close in the next Chamber, until he were called for.  Siuqila. 
If Kings, Princes, and Rulers should search thus narrowly, as your King doth, they should find some that they put in trust in such cases, most deceitful; whom they take to be faithful, and troublers and hinderers of poor suitors, that are appointed to aid and help them. But did the King remember his Remembrancer?  Omen. 
Yea the King remembered him so, that the Remembrancer did never forget it as long as he lived. As soon as the King had conveyed the poor man away, he sent for his said Remembrancer, & said to him: was the poor man with you yet, whose Supplication you should have delivered me? I never saw him since, said the Remembrancer: do you not know, said the King, him against whom he complained in his Supplication? no truly, said the Remembrancer. Then said the King, it seemeth hereby that you never read the poor man's Supplication: are not you a fit man to be in this office, and to be a Rememberer for men's suits, & a Solicitor in their causes? Then said the Remembrancer, if it like your Grace, I read it, but I have forgot it: it liketh me well, said the King, that you did read it, but it misliketh me that you have forgot it: you shall from henceforth be called the King's forgetter, not the King's Remembrancer. Then said the King, I fear least he against whom he came to complain, hath hurt him, killed him or cast him in prison. I think it is not so, said the Remembrauncer, for none I believe dare be so bold to use any in such sort, specially that come to sue to your Majesty. Then said the King, if it should be●knowne, as it would hardly be hid, it would be more painful than profitable to them. But if any should presume to do so, said the King, what were they worthy to have? truly, said the Remembrancer, they are worthy, in my judgement, to be whipped. I pray you, said the King, tell me one thing that I shall ask you, but lie not. Do you not know where the poor man is, whose Supplication I delivered unto you? No verily, said he, I marvel why your Grace should ask me the question: Because, said the King, it may be, & is very like, that he did come to you to know an answer from me thereof: if he had done so, as he did not, said he again to the King, that maketh not that I know where he is, or what is become of him. Yet if he came to you, said the King, he might then tell you, that his adversary or oppressor had satisfied him or agreed with him: which if you should tell me, I should be then satisfied, and think, that the man is safe and gone home. Then the Remembrauncer said, if I should now tell you any such thing, than I should be contrary to my former tale: for I told your Grace, that I never saw him since, as I have not indeed. Then I perceive, said the King, you know not where he is: No indeed do I not, said he. Now indeed, 
Mark the King's words.  said the King, I believe you, for he is not in prison, where you think, but he is out of prison where you know not. Then the King called for the poor fellow, and bade him come before him. And when he was come before the King, then the King said to his Remembrauncer. Do you know this fellow? at which time he said nothing. If you be so forgetful, said the King, you are not meet to be a Remembrancer, especially to a King: this fellow is more meet to be a Remembrauncer than you, for though you have forgotten him, he (I think) doth remember you. Yea, if it please your Grace, said the fellow, I remember him indeed, and know him too well. It doth please me, said the King, that thou dost remember him: but it doth displease me, that thou haste such a cause to remember him. How say you, said the King to the Remembrancer, can you not call this fellow yet to your remembrance? well, because you are so oblivious, here I discharge you, and you shall be my Remembrauncer no more. Though you remember not, that this fellow required his Supplication of you, yet I trust you have not forgotten, that you have sent him to prison, where he should have lain still, if I had not been a better Remembrancer than you. I muse who gave you authority to cast poor Suitors in prison, that come unto us to complain of their wrongs and injuries: though you, for your pleasure commanded him into prison, I hope you will not be angry, that I, for my pleasure have commanded him out of prison. Then the Remembrancer fell down upon his knees before the King. To whom the King said: 
Worthy words of a King.  Ah varlet, what heart hadst thou to imprison this poor man, that before had great wrong, and to seek his utter undoing that was almost undone? How durst thou presume to shop him up in prison to keep him from me, whose liberty was necessary to complain unto me? As long as Kings are served with such, the wicked shall be boldened to oppress the poor, and the poor will be afraid to sue for their own. If thou haste done thus to a poor man being a Subject, what wouldst thou do, if thou were a Sovereign? You said to this poor man, you would teach him to control his Superiors: now I say to you, that I will teach you to imprison your Inferiors. Haste not thou observed the words of Christ well, which we with all our endeavour have commanded to be kept? that is, Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, even the same do you to them? wouldst thou be content to be cast into prison, for suing for thy right, as thou haste done to this man for complaining for his due? the doing of that to him, that thou wouldst not have him do to thee, showeth, that thou art no true Christian, but a Sathanist. How subtly goest thou about to cause me to credit thee, when thou saidst, that none durst be so bold to use him so, when thou knewest that thyself hadst so used him? But whereas thou saidst, that none durst be so bold as to do it, now it appeareth, that thou haste done that that none durst be so bold to do: which argueth, that thou art the boldest of all other, to imprison poor men wrongfully. But seeing you have been so bold, as to punish this poor man without a cause: then I trust I may be so bold, as to punish you with a cause. And first, for that you said, they were worthy to be whipped that should use him so: according to your own judgement, my judgement is, that you shall be whipped naked. And because thou haste lied three several times to me: therefore thou shalt not speak any word of nine months, that is, for every lie three months, 
A wise judgement of the King of Mauqsun.  & shalt all that while wear on thy sleeve an H. and an L. for a Hurtful Lyar. And for that this poor man hath been in close prison seven days at thy commandment: now thou shalt be kept likewise in close prison, seven years, (that is, for every day a year) at my commandment. And afterwards, during thy life, thou shalt wear on thy back & bosom, these words: This was the King's Remembrauncer, that imprisoned a poor man wrongfully, that complained of his wrong to the King. And further I judge & decree, that this poor man shall quietly enjoy half of all thy whole living during his life, for his wrongful imprisonment. And also I charge & command thee, upon pain of death, that thou shalt not come at any time within seven miles of our Court. And then the King rose up & departed, & all his judgements were executed & performed. And ever after, the King had every suitors name written, in a little note Book that he kept for his own remembrance: that if the Remenembrancers did not bring him men's Bills or Supplications, he might call for them, and remember them himself.  Siuqila. 
This worthy and famous fact of the King, made not only all other the King's Remembrauncers after take heed, to remember to deliver poor men's Bills and Supplications to the King, but also feared them to commit any of them to prison.  Omen. 
Yea surely, this the Kings severe judgement & handling of the wicked Remembrancer, wrought such effect, that never since any durst delay poor men's causes and suits, neither durst trouble them, for justly complaining of any.  Siuqila. 
What order have you for such rich men as cruelly arrest and imprison their poor decayed debtor, and are not able to pay them that they own them.  Omen. 
We need have no law nor order for such, for there are none with us that use their poor debtor so. Have you any such cruel and uncharitable men with you?  Siuqila 
Yea that we have, and that no small number: and if you will not believe me, if you were in our Country, you could not go at any time into any of our prisons (that are for indebted persons) but that you should find such poor decayed prisoners there.  Omen. 
What uncharitable men are their Creditors, that will suffer them to lie there, being not able to pay them? by being abroad, they might in time be able to pay them, either part or all: but by lying in prison, they bring them to poverty, their wives to penury, and their children to misery. Such cruel hearted caitiffs belike mean not to have Christ merciful unto them at the last day, but make an account to be pinned up or imprisoned in the dungeon of Hell for ever. For surely, they that will not forgive their poor brethren their small debts, which they may be able to pay: Christ will not forgive them their great and wonderful debts, that they are never able to pay.  Siuqila 
There are some so cruel and so vengeable with us, that they had rather without any thing let their poor debtors die in prison, than to have half their due, and to deliver them out of prison. It was my chance to be in a prison one day, and I heard a poor decayed prisoner (that once was very wealthy) say with weeping tears, that he offered his creditors all that he had in the world, wheresoever they could find it or have it, to release him out of prison: desiring to have no more left him but the very shirt on his back, 
Most cruel Creditors.  to cover his body withal when he should be turned out of prison: but they would not take this offer, but kept him in prison stil.  Omen. 
Those meant not to be the children of God, but were fully determined to be the darlings of the Devil. If that poor man had been with us, he should have been delivered whether they would or not. It is marvel, that you have no order for such cruel Cut throats, especially seeing the word of God is so plentifully preached among you. It is a thing very needful to be looked on.  Siuqila. 
Yes, our worthy and merciful Prince hath appointed Commissioners for taking order in the like, which if they execute diligently, it will bridle the cruel, & pleasure the poor. But I desire you to tell me the law or order that you have in this case.  Omen. 
I will not let to do that. 
A notable order for prisoners that are not able to pay their debts in Mauqsun.  The next Court after that any is arrested for debt, the party that is arrested shall be brought before the judge of that Court, who, if he confess the debt, and affirm that he is not able to pay it, bringing good proof & Certificate thereof, and the judge being credibly and truly certified, that his creditor is wealthy, and well able to live without it: then the judge shall require and entreat the creditor to release his debtor, until he shall be able well to pay him: which if the creditor refuse to do at the judges request, than our law is, that the judge shall not only have power to release the prisoner, but also quite to discharge him of all the said debt, wherefore the creditor did sue him.  Siuqila. 
A worthy law: For what Christian and charitable man can, or will look to have his debts of any before they are able to pay him? then what godly rich man can once crave his debts of them that are decayed and fallen into poverty, which have not to relieve themselves withal? therefore he that is wealthy or well able to live, and will not release his poor debtor out of prison, until he have wherewithal to discharge his debt, is well worthy to be constrained to release his debtor, & to lose all the same debt. But what if the party that doth arreast his debtor, be also fallen in decay by misfortune?  Omen. 
That being known to the judge, than the judge may require him to release him out of prison. But if he deny the judges request, the judge cannot release the prisoner, neither yet acquit him of his debt. Yet if he will not release his debtor, he shall soon be rid out of prison.  Siuqila. 
Which way I pray you?  Omen. 
Our Gentlemen, rich men and Merchant men with us, are so godly and charitable, that a poor man can not lie long in prison, but they among them will pay his debts. There was one with us did owe unto an other five hundred pounds: and he, to whom he did owe all that money, did lose all his goods by mischance: 
A rare releasing of a prisoner in Mauqsun  which five hundred pounds was all that the creditor had to live on, beside he did owe part of the same, whereby he was constrained (though very loath) to arrest his debtor, thereby to see if his said debtor could make any friends for the payment thereof. And within one day after that the party was arrested, it was noised abroad, that immediately, certain charitable rich men paid the five hundredth pounds he ought, to him that imprisoned him: and also they gave him one hundred pounds more to help him withal. And so within two days after he was arrested, all his debts were paid, he set at liberty, and had a hundredth pounds home with him beside. Do they use the poor prisoners thus with you?  Siuqila. 
Nay soft there, they have other peerless business that requireth less haste. If any do so with us (especially so hastily and liberally) it is more than I know, and I think, more than the prisoners feel. It may be practised when I am dead and rotten, but I fear it will not be used while I am alive. Yet I am persuaded, that with us there is more spent wickedly in a month, than will release all such poor debtors that are arrested in a year. Therefore, how bewitched are they, that had rather do evil, a month to bring them to Hell: than to do good a whole year to bring them to Heaven? If a poor prisoner should owe so much with us, he were more like to rot in prison, than in such sort to be released out of prison. But now sir, I pray you tell me: is there any with you that make themselves Bankrupt before they need?  Omen. 
Bankrupt, what mean you by that? we have no such with us.  Siuqila. 
I mean such, as get money and divers men's goods into their hands upon credit, and occupy outwardly so honestly, that none would think they would deal deceitfully. Who when they have gotten as they think sufficient into their hands, and perhaps have four or five hundred pounds more than will pay their debts, will keep their houses privily, and shut their doors closely, and so will make themselves as though they were not able to pay their debts: whereby they will drive their creditors (perhaps some of them to their undoing) to agree with them both upon days, and for a great deal less than they own them, which when they have done, will flaunt it abroad, and enrich themselves with other men's losses: and perhaps thereby will make themselves worth a thousand pounds or two, & make their creditors worth little or nothing.  Omen. 
Nay, I am sure there are none such with us, and I think, there are none such among them that profess Christ.  Siuqila 
I would there were not, but I fear there are too many such.  Omen. 
If such a one were with us, 
A good law in Mauqsun for such as make themselves bankrupts without need.  his keeping of the house would not serve him, for I told you before, if any be not able to pay his debts, if he declare and prove the same to the judge, the judge will require his creditors to bear with him until he be able to pay them: and then, if the judge can not entreat them so to do, the judge hath power to acquit them of their debts, except in such cases as is before mentioned: wherefore they need not keep them from their creditors in their houses, nor otherwise absent themselves: but if one in such case is able to pay his debts, & feign himself unable, and make himself Bankrupt without need, and be proved (which our judges would soon find out) the judges shall compel him presently to pay every man his due, and if he have sufficient left to live on (as the judge shall think) besides his debts, than all his debts shall be equally given among the poor decayed men of the town where he dwelleth: and if ever after he stand in need, or would borrow any money, no man shall lend him any, for if they do, he shall never pay it to them again; but it shall be paid to the King's use at the days of payment.  Siuqila 
I would they that make themselves bankrupts with us before they need, & to hurt their honest creditors, were handled in this sort: then honest men would be more willing to lend, and the crafty would not be so desirous to borrow. You told me at the first of an unthankful son that would not know his own father, that the King worthily handled according to his deserts: Now I pray you tell me, how do men's sons commonly use their decayed Parents with you?  Omen. 
If Parents be decayed with us, their children are so religious to God, and so loving to their Parents, that with all their power they will help and aid them: and their children will strive among themselves who shall help them first. And for conformation thereof I will tell you one rare example.  Siuqila. 
I beseech you do so, for I much delight to hear them, they are so strange.  Omen. 
There was an ancient man with us that was very wealthy, 
An excellent example of a loving son to his father.  whose whole substance was in his house: for that he had a rich Shop very full of wares, who had little owing him, and he ought as little himself. This man had but one Son, whom he brought up very well in learning, whereby he came to be very wealthy, and might dispend at the least an hundredth pounds a year. He had an Office besides that was as much worth or more to him, who was so godly and virtuous that God did marvelously bless him: and he dwelled from his father above an hundred miles at the least. It chanced through negligence of a servant, that his house was burned, and all that was in it, which was all the goods he had: so that he had scant a coat left to put on his back. Which great mischance and loss his neighbours bewailed: but presently his godly and charitable neighbours did not only comfort him, but also brought him money, clothes, household stuff, and such other necessaries in great abundance, which he utterly refused, & in no wise would have them, saying: I thank you most heartily, good christian and charitable neighbours, I will not burden you with any thing: for, though God, to try me withal, hath suddenly impoverished me, as he did job: yet I trust he will prepare for me, (though not so much) as he did for job. I have a Son that GOD of his goodness hath blessed with sufficient wealth, whom I have brought up as a Father should bring up his child, which I hope, will use me as a child should use his father. And as you have been ready to help me in this great extremity, so if any of you should need, I to my power will be ready to relieve your necessity, and then he took his leave of his neighbours, with simple clothes, sufficient to keep him from the cold, and so he went forward towards his Son.  Siuqla. 
I hope he used not his father when he came to him, as he that was of the King's counsel, that would not know his Father.  Omen. 
No, he used him a little better than so, as you shall perceive by the Sequel. This ancient man though it were painful unto him, at last came to his sons house, where he found the doors shut: because it was something dark and within the Evening: and through his knocking one of his Sons servants came to the door, which when he had opened, he asked the old man what he would have, and with whom he would speak: who answered again, I would very gladly speak with your master, my master, said he, is now at Supper, therefore he is not at leisure to speak with you. I pray you tell him (said the old man,) that here is a poor man come to speak with him from his father, and then I think he will either come or send for me. And then he went to his master and said, sir there is a poor old man at the door, that would feign speak with you, he saith he is come from your father: bid him come in said his master, that he may Sup with me, and after Supper I will talk with him. Then the old man his father came into the Parlour, where his son was at Supper, whom as soon as his son saw, he knew him, wherewith he rose out of his chair, and kneeled down, and asked his Father blessing: whereat his father could not refrain from weeping: then said he, father I beseech you weep not but rejoice, with me your only son, the sight of you rejoiceth me more than any treasure on the Earth. I thought son, said he, you would not have known me in this coat: we ought, said his son, to know the garment by the person, not the person by the garment: therefore though your cote be changed, your countenance is not changed. Oh son said his father, not long since I was wealthy and able to help my friends: but now I am so poor that I am not able to help myself, and then he told him what mischance he had. Well father said his son be patiented, 
Few sons will ask such boonds of their fathers.  and thank God for all: but where you say, that you are so poor that you are not able to help yourself: that I trust will prove shortly not to be so. With that his Son fell upon his knees, and desired his father to grant him one thing that he would require at his hand. Alas son said his father I am not able to grant you any thing, father said his son, that that I would ask of you you are easily able to grant, therefore I will not leave kneeling unto you, until you have granted me my petition. Then said his father, rise up son, and kneel no more, for I will grant it you, seeing you say I may easily do it. Then said his son, from this time forward I give you freely all my goods and Lands, that I have in the World, and that you shall possess and enjoy them for your own, and that it shall be at your choice to give and to bestow them where you list. Which when his father heard, he was astonished. Son said he, that is too much for me, a small portion thereof shall serve my turn: father said his son, I trust you will not go from your grant, thus it must be, it shall be none other. Well son, seeing there is no remedy, I will take it upon me, but if I had thought that this would have been your request, I would not have granted to perform it. Then his son made fresh and fine clothes to be put on him, and a fair Gown upon his back, and did place him in his chair at the upper end of the Table, saying, oh father how do I rejoice to see you master of this house, you said even now that you were so poor, that you were not able to help yourself, but now that is not so, for I am sure that you have enough for yourself and your friend. And his son desired the Gentlemen that were with him at Supper, to make much of his father, and so they did.  Siuqila. 
How did the Gentleman's wife like of this liberal gift, that her husband gave to his father? did she not frown at it I pray you?  Omen. 
As she was very glad of her husbands fathers coming (though he were poor and beggarly) so she was most joyful, when she saw that her husband had given his father that that he did.  Siuqila. 
Many Gentlewomen with us would have frouned on their husbands half a year after (perhaps as long as they 
Mark this.  had lived) if they should have entertained their poor father in this order, and given their father in law such a liberal gift. I will not say, but that there be many with us, that use their fathers reverently, and do relieve them well in their necessity: but I never heard of any, (and I fear I never shall, but of this one that dwelled in your Country of Mauqsun) that thus used their father, either in poverty or prosperity. I perceive the children with you, do marvelously obey, love, and help their parents. Do the servants also reverently behave themselves to their masters, that brought them up, and succour them if they come to poverty?  Omen. 
You may be most sure they do. 
Few servants do so.  If a man should fall in decay with us, that hath brought up Prentices or Servants if any of those servants be then wealthy or able to help them, as soon as they hear that their said master is decayed, well is he that first may help and relieve him: yea they are so earnest in helping their decayed masters, that one hath been at great contention with another therefore, and have gone to the law about it.  Siuqila. 
I have lived a good while, yet I never heard, that any with us went to the law about any such matter. Can you show me any example thereof?  Omen. 
Yea that I can a hundredth, but one shall suf●●●e, which I mean to tell you. There was a very rich occupier, or rather a Merchant with us, that had brought up diverse Prentices, whereof especially two of them, were not only diligent and obedient, whilst they dwelled with him, but waxed very rich after they began to trade for themselves. It chanced after, that their said master (through great losses on the Sea, and through evil creditors) was marvelously decayed and brought to great poverty, who escaping the Sea very hardly, came home, and thinking then to give over and to meddle no more with such Worldly affairs (not showing outwardly the bare case he was in) suddenly sold all that he had, and paid all his debts therewith, which being paid, there was nothing remained for him to live on: & he sold his house also to pay his debts withal, wherein he had not past a months respite to dwell: whose bare case these two servants that were so rich understood well enough, whereof one of them went in a morning unto him and said thus: sir, I understand that you are in more want than you make show of, I have learned that you have like a good man paid all your debts, notwithstanding the great losses you have had of late, whereby you have left yourself little or nothing to live on. Besides that, you have sold your house you dwell in. And seeing it is so, I am ready to bestow half the goods I have on you, which I hope is so much, as will make you occupy freshly again. You were my good master and brought me up, in this rich trade that I now do use, whereas if you had not showed me, learned me, and otherways helped me, I could not have gained this I have gotten. Besides that, you of your goodness gave me an hundredth pounds to begin withal, which in the mean season, to help you in your need, lo I have brought you. To whom his master said, I thank you for your good will, but I will neither take half your goods, which most courteously you have offered me, neither the hundredth pound that you now proffer me. For the truth is so, I am fully bent and determined, (from which I will not be persuaded) to give myself to prayer and a quiet living, so that I will not from henceforth trouble myself with any Worldly trade. Then, sir said he, because you are thus bend, I will persuade you no more to the contrary, but seeing you have refused my first offer, I most heartily desire you to take my second proffer, which is, as long as you live to take your boarding, lodging, & finding in my house: and of this one thing I assure you, you shall far no worse than myself, nor lie no worse than myself. Then said the decayed Merchauntman, God will bless and prosper such as you, that have such care of your masters that brought you up: I thank you for your gentle offer, it may be that I will take it, but as yet I will not certainly promise you. Seing you will not, said his servant, at this time grant me, I beseech you yet promise me now (that before I speak with you again) none other herein prevent me. That I will, said the decayed Merchant. And so they departed.  Siuqila. 
It will be a good while ere a decayed Master with us have such an offer at any of his servants hands. It was marvel if his other enriched servant did not come to him and offer him the like?  Omen. 
In deed the next day after his other servant came to him as you judged, and offered to him as much or more, whom he thanked heartily for his gentleness, but at that time he would not promise him to take his finding and lodging of him: sir said he, if it please you to promise me now to take your board, your lodging, and apparel of me during your life, I will give you beside every week half a Crown in your purse, to spend or do therewith what you list, which you shall have also as long as you live. I am much beholden to you, said the decayed merchant man, for this your great courtesy: I have not a little cause to rejoice that I have brought up such a servant, but I pray you to pardon me, for as yet I cannot promise you: seeing you will not do that, said he, I pray you then grant me that none other shall allure you from me before you tell me of it, whereat the decayed merchant stayed a little, remembering his promise to the other: you need not stay at this said the servant, therefore I beseech you let me crave so much at your hands. I am content saith he, I will not promise to be with any before I have told you thereof. And when he had that answer of him, he took then his leave of him.  Siuqila. 
A man would have thought if he had not known the matter, that they had sued for some great commodity to themselves, they were so importunate: but I would feign know who got him at the last.  Omen. 
If you will give ear a little you shall know. Within two or three days after, he that was first with him came to him again, & was very earnest in hand with him to grant him his request. To whom the decayed Merchant man said, I would fain promise you, but I am bound that as yet I cannot, how are you bond said he? I may not promise you said his master, before I have told another thereof. I beseech you tell me who is the said his servant? seeing you will needs know, said his master, it is such a one your neighbour, that was once my servant as you were. Then I perceive said he, that he would have you with him, yea in deed would he, said his master. Well sir said he, I trust you will not be with him, & refuse me, though perhaps he be something more able than I, yet I trust he shall not find nor use you, better than I. Well said the decayed Merchant man, I know not what I may do, I mean to take one of your offers, because you were my faithful servants, but hastily to do it I am much in doubt, for that thereby I should displease the one of you, than said his servant for as much as you can not promise me at this time, I beseech you yet to do thus much for me, as to promise none other these ten days following. This I am content to grant you, said his master, whereof assure yourself. And then for that time they both departed. The next day following this same man that had his grant for ten days, got out a process, and cause it to be served on the other that was his fellow, and servant to the said decayed Merchant, whereby he was to appear before the judge the next day following, who marveled what matter he could have against him, whereupon he appeared before the judge, at which time the Plaintiff was there also. And then the Plaintiff said: my Lord such a man was my master, whom I found very good unto me, & whom I am bound to love and obey as long as I live: who though he was once very rich & wealthy, is now by mishap fall● in decay, which assoon as I understood, I went unto him, & proffered him of my goods to help him withal as I thought good: but he refused it, & in no wise would have it, saying that he would give over toiling in the world, & give himself to quietness & prayer. Then I offered him meat, drink, cloth, lodging, & all other necessaries during his life, which he thanked me for, but he would not then promise to take my offer, & since I understand, that he would have taken my offer, but this man (whom I have caused to appear before you) hath since gone about to prevent me, & would allure him out of my hands, to be with him. This my Lord is the very matter that I have against him. This is a very strange and a rare suit, said the judge, how say you said the judge to the other, have you practised to get this his decayed master from him, and to be with you at your finding? no my Lord said he, I never went about to allure him from him, for I protest before your honour, that I never knew that this man was desirous or went about to have him, before he himself now told it. Therefore therein he burdeneth me wrong: marry I must needs confess, that I have offered him both my goods, which he hath refused, & his meat, drink, clothing, and lodging, and all other necessaries belonging to him during his life, as this man hath done: which to do I have as great cause as he hath, for I was his servant, as well as he, & therefore I hope I have not deserved to be evil spoken off, for relieving my good master in his necessity, for all that I have I have got through his bringing of me up, & by the trade that he taught me, therefore next under God, I am most bound to him. Wherefore my lord, all this being truth that I have told, I trust I have neither offended this man nor any other. I must needs say this, said the judge, that he was both a very good master to you, and you show yourselves as most true and faithful Servants to him: no doubt GOD hath, doth and will, prosper your dealings for your carefulness and love, that you have to your master, I ●al him your master because he was your master. Yea my Lord, said they both, and we will take him for our master as long as we live, and use him as our father, whiles the breath is in our bodies: well said the judge, I perceive you both would feign have him, yet one of you is like to go without him. But though you seem to contend to have him, do you think he will be content to be with one of you? yea my Lord said the plaintiff, he told me so himself, but he is loath to promise either of us, because he thinketh thereby to displease one of us. Then said the judge, it were best that he were here himself, and so he did send one for him, who by and by came unto the judge: how say you, said the judge, here are two which were once your servants, that are very desirous to give you your keeping, and other necessaries as long as you live, whereof I think you are not ignorant. No my Lord said the decayed Merchant, they both I thank them have been very importunate to have me with them, & I would very feign be with one of them, but they love me both so well, & I favour them both so much, that I cannot tell which of them I may choose to be withal: no said the judge that is marvel, but will you be content said he, 
A strange kind of pleading.  that I shall rule the matter? yea my Lord said he, with all my heart. Then said the judge I hope to make a quick dispatch of this matter. But my Lord, said the Plaintiff, I beseech you hear me first, what I can say for myself: say on, said the judge: I must confess, said he, that we were both his servants, but I was the first that offered him this offer, which my master can not deny. I must needs confess that said his master, than said the judge, how long was it after that you heard of his decay, that you offered him this? forsooth my Lord, said he, the next day after. Then said the judge to the Defendant, how long was it after ere you offered him this gentleness? within two hours after at the furthest said he. Then said the judge to the plaintiff, though he came after you, yet he made more speed than you: then said the Defendante, my Lord, I beseech you consider, that I was my masters servant before he was: yea my Lord said the Plaintiff, but I was his servant longer than he was, & also I think my master did more for me, than for him, for he gave me a. C. l. at my first setting up, for myself, therefore I am more bound to do for him than he: Yea but said the Defendant, my good Master was bound for me, for 500 l. in wares, which I borrowed at my beginning, & gave me also. 100 Marks in money, which was my chief making: & therefore he did more for me than he did for you, wherefore I am more bound to do for him. Then said the Plaintiff, I have offered to find him as long as he liveth, and to far, go, nor lie, no worse than myself: so have I done, said the Defendant, and I will keep him as well as you for your life. Besides that (my Lord) I have offered to give him wéekly half a Crown as long as he liveth, to put in his purse, to spend or use as he listeth. Then said the Plaintiff, I will give him a Crown to put in his purse wéekly as long as he liveth, and let him do withal what he list. I will give him a Noble, said the Defendant, rather than I will lose the company of my Master for money. No more, said the judge: do you offer this of spite that you have one to the other? or for zeal and good will you bear to your Master? Then said the Plaintiff, I own this man the Defendant no evil will in all the world: but I offer this to my good Master, of pure zeal and love to my Master. And I, said the Defendant, do own this man that hath caused me here to appear, no manner of malice: but this that I have proffered to my Master, is only of Christian charity and pure love to my Master. Well, said the judge, for that this your loving Master is very willing to be with one of you, and both of you are willing to have him. I will knit up the matter in brief. But first tell me, how far doth one of you dwell from another? Forsooth, said they, we dwell within four or five houses one of an other. Is there never a pretty house between you, that is empty or to let? Yes, my Lord, said the Plainetiffe, a friend of mine hath one almost between us both. To whom the judge said: will he not let it, think you? Yes I am sure, said he, to whom I list. Then I do award, said the judge, 
Mark this judgement.  that both you shall hire the same for him to dwell in, and shall pay the rent therefore equally, and you shall furnish his house with all things necessary for him, & he shall be at meat and meal with one of you one week, and with the other another week, and you shall find him clothes necessary for him equally between you, and when he listeth to dine or sup at home, you shall send him victuals, as doth appertain for him: and moreover, because you have offered it him, you shall give him weekly, as your turn cometh, a Crown, to use and bestow as he listeth: and all this you shall do as long as he liveth: and if either of you die before him, than the other that shall be alive, shall be at all the charges for the finding of him, as the one of you before desired. With which judgement the decayed Merchant was well liked, the Plaintiff and Defendant both well pleased: and the judge therefore of every one praised.  Siuqila. 
I never knew of any that went to law for such a matter: I have heard of some that have arrested their Masters that brought them up, & that taught them their trade to live by, yea, and perhaps rather upon a pretended malice, than upon any good occasion. Sir, I am very desirous to know whether you have many prisoners with you, or not?  Omen. 
We have very few or none, for it is a very hard matter to find with us any traitors, 
Few prisoners in Mauqsun.  murderers, or felons, they fear God so much, obey their Prince so dutifully, and love one an other so well. And if any be imprisoned, it is decayed debtors, (not wicked doers) that through misfortune are impoverished, who cannot long be imprisoned, as before I mentioned.  Siuqila. 
Indeed, as you say, you have the charitablest people with you, for helping of poor prisoners, and for paying of their debts that ever I heard.  Omen. 
I will tell you of as strange a releasing of a prisoner, as hath been in your country I believe, if you will be content to hear it.  Siuqila. 
Yes that I will with all my heart.  Omen. 
It is a very common thing with us for men to visit the prisons, & to understand the cause of their imprisonment, whereby according to their ability they may find means to release them.  Siuqila. 
It is not so common with you, but is as rare with us.  Omen. 
And on a certain day, it was two men's chances to meet at one time at one prison, 
A strange example of one that went to the law, about the releasing of a prisoner.  to visit what prisoners were there: and the keeper answered them, that then there was but only one in prison, which when they heard, they earnestly desired the keeper, that they might speak with him. You shall with a good will, said he. And so they both went unto the prisoner, whom they asked, how long he had been there: the prisoner said, I have been here yet scant a whole day: wherefore do you lie here, said the one of them: Forsooth, said he, for debt, and that is twenty pounds, which I am not able to pay, yet I was once within this twelve month, worth an hundred pounds, and all my debts paid: but through God's good pruidence, not by mine own negligence, I am now not worth a groat: wherefore I thank him as much, as though I were as rich as I was before. What is he, (said one of the charitable men) that keepeth you in prison? a very honest man, said he, who, through necessity is urged to do it, in hope, thereby to get some of my friends to pay him, thereby to release me. Have you any friends or kinsfolks that dwell nigh here, said one of them, or that knoweth of this your imprisonment? No truly, said the prisoner, but within a hundred miles I have such friends, I hope, that would quickly release me, if they knew of it. Well, said the one of them, if your friends were here, they should not need to trouble themselves about the delivering of you, for I will pay your debt, and release you out of prison: therefore tell me his name, said he, and where he dwelleth, to whom you own the money, for I will not dine before I have paid him thy debt, that he may release thee. No, said the other, you shall not pay his debt, for I will pay it for him: you shall not, said the other, for I was within the prison door before you. And thus they were at contention one with an other, which of them should release the poor man out of prison. And when the prisoner had told them where his creditor dwelled: then he that was first within the prison door, was going to the creditor to agree with him, and to pay him the prisoners debt: which when the other saw, he would needs go with him also, saying, that he would release the prisoner. And for that he is my friend, said he, I know at my desire he will take my money before yours. Yea, said the other, I will have a remedy for that, & he seeing an Officer there at the prison door, said, I pray thee arrest this man at my suit for such matter as I have against him: and that he may appear this day in the afternoon before the judge. And when he had given him his fee, he departed thence, and then the Officer arrested him by and by, and told him it was at the suit of such a one. Well, said he that was arrested, I will put in sureties for my appearance: and so he did.  Siuqila. 
I think few sergeants with us can say, that ever they arrested any in such a case: But did he appear before the judge at afternoon?  Omen. 
Yea I warrant you. At which time the Plaintiff met him, who said then unto the judge: my Lord, it was my chance this day to go to a prison, where I found but only one prisoner, who lieth there for twenty pounds' debt, which prisoner I would have released, and paid his said debt to his creditor, but this man whom I have caused to appear before you, would not suffer me, for when I was going unto him that imprisoned the poor man, he said he would go to him, and discharge the prisoner, wherein me thought he offered me great wrong, to take that charitable work out of my hand that I was determined to do.  Siuqila. 
But saving your tale: me think, that he had no lawful cause to arreast him in this case.  Omen. 
You think so: but it is as lawful with us to sue a man for preventing him of a charitable deed, as it is lawful for a man to arrest one with you for preventing him of any worldly commodity. And when he had told his tale before the judge: then the judge asked the Defendant, whether he came out of his house, purposely to release a prisoner, or not? and he said, yea. Did you so too, said the judge to the Plaintiff? Yea, my Lord, said he, that was the only cause why I went from, home. Then the judge said to the Defendant, was this Plaintiff within the prison gates before you? My Lord, said he, I must needs confess that: but I followed him immediately. Then the judge called them to him one after an other, and examined than privily, at what time they were first minded, to go visit the prison, thereby to release a prisoner: & he that was first in the prison said, that the night before, he was fully determined to do so the next morning as soon as he was risen: the other being defendant said, that when he was ready devising what he were best to do, he thought he could not go about a better work than to visit the prisoners, and to help to release such as were there, that were not able to release themselves. Then said the judge, you are both charitable & godly men, you strive to do well, where as many strive to do evil. But for as much as you are both willing, to show a great deed of charity of the poor prisoner, and that one of you will needs pay his said debt of twenty pound: 
Note this judgement.  my judgement is, that you that are the plaintiff, partly for that you were first within the prison door, but chief for that you were first determined to visit the prison, to do such a charitable work, that you shall pay the said twenty pounds to his creditor, thereby to release him out of prison. And further, because you that are Defendant, were so desirous to pay the same for him, and to release him: therefore I decree that you shall give the said poor man, when he is released out of prison, twenty pounds also, to help to maintain & secure him withal, for that I understand he hath nothing to live on: for it is as charitable a deed, to relieve poor men (that can not tell how to live) when they be out of prison, as to help to release them out of prison. For many are driven to live more hardly out of prison, than in prison. With which judgement, these two charitable men did greatly rejoice, and were marvelously well contented, and therewith the judge arose and departed.  Siuqila. 
If you had not told me this tale, I would have said it is Too good to be true. Truly your customs are so commendable, your laws so profitable, your judges so just, & your stories so strange that I can not almost be weary to hear them. Their are many old men in our Country, but I believe the oldest of them all did never hear of any such suit before a judge, and that more, I think they never shall. But whereas they strive thus with you, who shall soonest release poor men out of prison, there are many with us that contend, who shall keep them longest in prison.  
At the last day when Christ the general releaser of all prisoners, shall send the merciful to heaven, and the unmerciful and the hard hearted cut throats, to ●uerlasting fire, from which none shallbe able to release them: then they will be sorry that they kept their poor brethren in prison. For if Christ will send the unrepentant to Hell, that do not visit the poor: prisoners that are imprisoned by other: it is not like he will send them to Heaven that throw their poor brethren in prison, and most cruelly keep them there, suffering them to hunger starve, and die.  Omen. 
I trust there is none such in such a Christian country as your is.  Siuqila. 
As you trust there is none such, so I would to God there were none such. But whosoever are such, I am sure once they will repent that they have been such. I pray you sir, are the Gentlewomen with you very charitable to the poor▪  Omen. 
For charitable alms, and for succouring of the poor, they exceed generally all the Gentlewomen in the world.  Siuqila. 
Surely we have many godly and virtuous Gentlewomen with us, but many are a great deal more given to prampe up themselves, than to show mercy and pity on the poor.  Omen. 
I will tell you such a thing of three Gentlewomen of our country, that I think you never heard the like done since you were borne, by three of yours: So that you will hear it.  Siuqila. 
Be bold I will hear it, if it were an hour long.  Omen. 
It chanced that three Gentlewomen in the cool of the evening did walk abroad in the fields for their recreation, 
A stranger example of three Gentlewomen  and within a quarter of an hour after, they espied a young child sitting by itself, weeping, but they salve no body with it, and immediately they all three ran towards it as fast as they were able for their lives, that no Gentlewoman with you would have run any faster, if it had been to save all the living they had. But one of them, that was at the first behind, came first to it and catched hold of it, saying, for asmuch as this poor child hath neither mother, nor other keeper here, that I can see, I will have it and keep it, for I have wooune it by the law of running, Then one of the other Gentlewomen said, you shall not have it, for though you are swifter than I, whereby you did out run me: yet I was the first that ran toward it, therefore I ought to have it by right. Then spoke the third Gentlewoman, though the one of you by swift running have got it, and the other by running first would have it, yet I saw it before any of you, and have taken as great pains in running as either of you, therefore neither of you shall have it, for I will have it, Well, said the Gentlewoman that had it, plead you your title, and I will plead my possession: for I assure you, you shall win it by the Law before you shall have It. Well, said one of the Gentlewomen, I will not take it from you by force, but I tell you truly, I will have it, or else the L●we shall fail me. Then said the third, I assure you I will have it, if the Law will give it me. Then the Gentlewoman that had it said, we may go to the Law in a good cause and offend not. But as it would grieve me to keep it and after by Law to lose it: so it would not much please you to spend your time in the Law about that you shall never obtain, but if you will needs prosecute the Law against me, I must defend my cause aswell as I can: one thing I comfort myself withal before we begin, the judge will not be partial, but judge uprightly. Then said one of the other Gentlewomen, I trust you will not be angry with me, for going to the law with you in this case: neither with me I hope, said the other Gentlewoman: no said she I will owe you never the more evil will, for if one may be angry and sin not, than we may go to the law and hate not.  Siuqila. 
Such a matter by the Law I believe was never tried in our country: but did the other Gentlewoman sue her for this poor child, I pray you tell me.  Omen. 
I in deed did they.  Siuqila. 
It had been reason, that first they should have asked their husbands leave therein.  Omen. 
They that have no husbands, need ask no leave of their husbands: they were all three widows.  Siuqila. 
Perhaps they had no children of their own▪ & that made them the more desirous to bring up this poor foundling.  Omen. 
Perhaps that would have been a mean to make your Gentlewomen to have done so. But I assure you, five children were the fewest that any of them had. The next day (because they would not prolong time) the other two severally by process, summoned this Gentlewoman that had the child, to appear before the judge the next day after: who appeared accordingly, against whom they had put in their bills of complaint, wherein each declared for themselves aswell as they could. Whose bills when the judge had well perused, he said, surely this our Country of Mauqsun hath such suits in the Law, as I think no Country hath beside: I pray you Gentlewomen said he, do you sue this Gentlewoman of spite and disdain that she keepeth the child from you, or of a Christian and charitable love that you have to do such a godly deed? Truly, said the one of them, I do it only of Christian charity: and the other said, I do it of pure love that I own to the poor member of my master Christ. We do it not for want of children, for we both have good store of children of our own. And so have I also, said she that had the child, wherefore my desire is, only to keep it for the love that I own to God, and for the zeal I own unto the poor friendless child. Well, said the judge, I perceive you claim ●he poor child by your first coming to it, and by taking it into your possession, which is a good point for you to plead by, seeing neither of them before had any title in the child. My Lord, said she, 
Such cases are not common.  I hope it will rather help than hinder me: for the truth is, I was so earnestly affectioned to have the child, that I did run with all the endeavour I coulce, whereby it was my good hap first to take hold of it, and so I took it, and since I have kept it. It appeareth, said the judge, that you were desirous of it, or else you would not have run with such a good will: 
Mark the words of the judge.  and then the judge said to one of the other Gentlewomen, you claim to have title in the child, for that you were the first of the three that began to run towards the child: it seemeth that you were desirous to have the child, or else you would not have pressed to have run first of all towards it: But for that this Gentlewoman was behind you, and then did out run you, being much grosser than either of you, whereby she was the more unable to run, which in every man's judgement, should rather have made her come behind, though she had been before, than to come before, being behind: therefore I must needs gather, though you were very desirous to have the child, yet she was most earnest to have it, for that she took the most pain therein, in that she did out tun you both, whereas there was great odds that both you should have out● run her. And whereas you (said the judge to the third Gentlewoman) do claim the child by first seeing of it, that maketh more against you than with you: for you had such advantage by first seeing of it, that thereby you might have been a good way before either of them: and for that you are most slender of the three, and therefore more apt to run, you must needs have been first of all at the child, if your desire to have it, had been as earnest as your pretence is great, for you running before they knew, must needs be at the child before they could. And moreover your coming lag or behind them both, your seeing it first, and slender making considered, showeth manifestly, that you ran rather for company, than for the child, or to get you good credit by running, which you might have lost by tarrying. These are reasunable conjectures, yet there may be privy impediments that I know not of. Wherefore Gentlewomen, as I fear I can not please you all, so I would be loath to displease any of you. I trust none of you would have me to divide the child among you, as the harlot that was not the right mother, would have had King Solomon to do: for your desire is, to have it to preserve alive, but the wicked harlot for spite would have had it killed. Yea my Lord said they, we desire to have, it nourished not spoiled, & fostered not famished. Then said the judge, could you find no body nigh it, I muse how it came there: my Lord said she that had the child, this morning early I sent two of my men to search the fields, & not far from the place where we ●ound the child, they 〈◊〉 where a poor woman was dead, but of what disease I know not, she was not killed, for there was neither wounded nor stroke to be found on her, which poor woman was the very mother of this child that I have, for they tried that, not only at the next town, but also that she had two young children more, which woman was a widow. So that those her two children have never a father to relieve them. Where are the two children said the judge? forsooth, said the Gentlewoman, they be in that town, my men know where they ●e, for they did see them: what became of the dead woman said the judge? the men of the same town where she dwelled caused her to be brought thither, and finding that she died of God's visitation, they buried her. Well said the judge, God hath so wrought, that where perhaps I should have displeased some of you, now I hope I shall please you all: therefore this is my judgement: you Gentlewoman that took such pains in running, whereby you first took hold of the Child, shall have the same Child to keep, according to your desire, which I trust you will bring up, as you will do your own. And for the both you so fain would have had the Child, you shall have the other two Children between you, that is, either of you one: And thus you three rich widows, shall keep three Children of one poor widow. New lay you, said the judge, are you pleased herewith? yea my Lord said they, and we rejoice at your wise and godly judgement: How say you, Siuqila? Do Gentlewomen use to sue at the Law in this order with you?  Siuqila. 
No, nor I think in few places else, if is possible if three Gentlewomen with us had found a fine little Puppy, or a pretty Spaniel, it may be that they would have gone to the Law one with another rather for that, than for a poor motherless or Friendless Child. I trust ours Court will not be cumbered with such causes, nor our judges troubled with any such suits. Tell me I pray you sir, what gifts with you, procure the greatest friend ship, or get the greatest reward? 
What gifts are best accepted in Mauqs●.   Omen. 
Forsooth Books.  Siuqila. 
And what next that?  Omen. 
Books.  Siuqila. 
And what next that?  Omen. 
Books.  Siuqila. 
Here is nothing with you but Books: as though nothing requireth friendship or rewards but Books.  Omen. 
Yes main gifts beside Books, procure and deserve rewards, and friendship with us, but Books are the chiefest of all other: for they are such Schoolmasters as do teach all Sciences and knowledge especially to ripe and pregnante wits, without any wages or rewards:  Siuqila. 
What meant you to name Books thrice on a row?  Omen. 
Marry I will tell you: they that invent and set forth divine books to persuade men from sin, to allure them to godliness, to train them to truth, to win them to obedience, and to lead them to the endless life: they I say, that give such gifts, making their gifts themselves, have of all other with us, the most friendship & the greatest rewards therefore. And they that devise and frame books, that teach good government, politic orders, and common commodities for a common wealth: such with us as give such gifts of their own making, find great friendship and the next rewards to the other. And they that invent and make books, that teach honest trades, that explain learned sciences, and that open at large necessary knowledge, such as present any such gifts of their own invention, acquire next favour and friendship to the other, besides sufficient rewards correspondent to the gift.  Siuqila. 
Those gifts that procure the most friendship, and the greatest rewards with you, I believe obtain the least friendship, and the least rewards with us: and those that are most esteemed & gratified with us, are least regarded & rewarded with you. But how are such books esteemed of you after they be published?  Omen. 
Marvelously, they read them thoroughly, they peruse them advisedly, and they practise them diligently: do they not so with you?  Siuqila. 
Some do so I am sure, but the most do not so I am certain.  Omen. 
Do not many buy books with you?  Siuqila. 
Yes truly that they do.  Omen. 
Then it is no doubt, but that they do read those books they buy.  Siuqila. 
Nay, nor every one readeth not the books that are given them.  Omen. 
If they do not read them thoroughly, to what end do they buy them?  Siuqila. 
Many are so fantastical with us, that they buy them for the newness of the Book, not for the goodness of the work. For some, if they have not a Book, be it never so good almost, before any other see it, or have it, he refuseth to read it, and maketh no account of it: tush, saith he, that Book is stolen, as though no Book is good but while it is new. And also a great fort with us, seldom or never read Books thoroughly and advisedly, unless they be in such places, that almost they can have no other exercise, as such as are in prison, waiters in the Court and other places, and such as travel on the water, where many hear and read that in good Books, that otherwise they should never read nor hear.  Omen. 
Truly, they are not of my mind, if I should buy a Book, I would surely read the Book. As one cannot well judge of a Book before he read it, so we ought to read it thoroughly before we judge it. And as some have a better opinion in an unread Book, than it doth deserve: so some unread Books do deserve a better opinion, than many have in them. Therefore it is good to read Books, for if an evil man read a good book, he may be the better: and if a good man read an evil Book, he will not be the worse. But we are sure of one thing with us, evil Books cannot infect us, for we have not an evil Book in all our country.  Siuqila. 
And if some might have their wills, they would not suffer a godly Book in all our Country. Well sir, if you were as much tired with talking, as I am hungry with hearkening, you would tarry no longer to answer me: but now for that I have no more to ask you, but am satisfied in all things, as my heart doth desire: therefore I will trouble you no more: Assuring you, that for godly laws, politic orders, righteous Rulers, merciful Magistrates, just judges, loving Lawyers, pitiful Physicians, zealous Husbands, obedient Wives, dutiful Children, trusty Servants, good Landlords, honest tenants, courteous Gentlemen, virtuous Gentlewomen, charitable neighbours, and faithful Subieds, your Country of Mauqsun exceedeth all the Countries in the World. You have led them such a dance, that in all things I am sure they will not follow you in haste.  Omen. 
I would you were as sure that they would follow us in goodness, as I am sure, we will not follow them in evilness: though I am in doubt that few will practise our doings, yet I believe that you will declare to many our deings.  Siuqila. 
Be sure of that, I may travel where I list, and go where I will, but sure I am that I shall never come into any Country, where all things are in such order as they are with you.  Omen. 
Many a Country may be godly governed, politicly ordered, with good laws furnished, and with obedient subjects inhabited, and yet far unlike ours in all points. Well, they may follow us if they will, but they shall not go before us if they would.  Siuqila. 
If they meant to follow you, as I fear they do not, they would come so far behind, that I am out of doubt they should never overtake you. Though my journey home, will be something grievous unto me, yet the knowledge of the worthy orders of your country, maketh me very joyful: but there is no remedy, if I intend to come home, I must set forwards and begin to go home. Therefore now I will take my leave of you, most humbly thanking you, for the pains you have taken for the unfolding unto me your marvelous orders, and your most Christian conditions.  Omen. 
I would your long journey were no more painful to you, than the discourse, of our Country hath been trouble to me. The God of all goodness guide you in your travel.  Siuqila. 
I doubt not but he will: for he will defend them from dangers that trust truly to him. In whom is all my trust, and in jesus Christ, whose Kingdom God grant we may all inherit. AMEN.  
FINIS.