XII. merry jests, of the widow Edyth,  

THis lying widow, false and crafty,  
Late in England, hath deceived many:  
Both men and women of every degree,  
As well of the Spiritual, as temporalty  
Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen also:  
Yemen, grooms, & that not long ago,  
For in the time of King Henry the eight  
She hath used many a subtle sleight,  
What with lying, weeping & laughing  
Dissembling, boasting, and flattering,  
As by this Book hereafter doth appear  
Who so list the matter now for to here:  
No feigned Stories, but matters in deed  
Of. xii. of her jests, here may ye reed.  
Now newly printed, this present year,  
For such as delight, merry jests for to here.   
1573.   

❧ The Contents of of these. xii. merry jests following.  
THe first merry jest, declareth: how this fair and merry Maiden Edyth, was married to one Thomas Ellys, & how she ran away with another, by whom she had a bastard Daughter and how she deceived a Gentleman, bearing him in hand, how her Daughter was Heir to fair Lands, and great Richesse.  
¶ The second merry jest: how this lying Edyth, made a poor man to unthatch his House, bearing him in hand, that she would cover it with Lead: & how she deceived a Barbour, making him believe she was a widow, and had great abundance of goods.  
¶ The third merry jest: how this widow Edyth, deceived her Host at Hormynger, & her Host at Brandonfery, and borrowed money of them both: and also one master Guy, of whom she borrowed iiii. Marks.  
¶ The fourth merry jest, how this widow Edith deceived a Doctor of divinity, at S. Thomas of Akers in London, of. u Nobles he laid one for her, and how she gave him the slip.  
¶ The fifth merry jest: how this widow Edyth deceived a man and his wife that were riding on pilgrimage: of. iiii. Nobles that they laid out for her: & how she deceived a Scrivener in London, whose name was M. Rowse.  
¶ The sixth merry jest: how this widow Edyth deceived a Draper in London, of a new Gown and a new Kyrtell: and how she sent him for a Nest of Goblets, & other Plate, to that Scrivener whom she had deceived afore.  
¶ The seven. merry jest, how she deceived a servant of Sir Thomas Nevells, who in hope to have her in Marriage, with all her great Richesse, kept her company, till all his money was spent: and then she took her flight, and forsook him.  
☞ The eight merry jest, how this widow Edyth deceived a Servant of the Bishop of Rochesters, with her cogging, and boasting of her great Richesse: who like wise thought to have had her in Marriage.  
¶ The, ix. merry jest: how she deceived a Lord, sometime Earl of Arundel: & how he sent. u of his men servants & a handmaid, to bear h●r company, & fetch her Daughter: who as she boasted, was an Heir of great Lands.  
¶ The tenth merry jest: how she deceived three young men of Chelsey, that were servants to Sir Thomas Moore, and were all three suitors unto her for Marriage: and what mischance happened unto her.  
¶ The xi. merry jest: how she deceived three young men of the Lord Legates Servants, with her great lying craking & boasting of her great Treasure and jueiles.  
¶ The. xii. merry jest: how this widow Edyth deceived the good man of the three Cups in Holborn, and one john Cotes: and how they both rid with her to SAINT Albon to oversee her houses & lands: and how they were rewarded.  
¶ FINIS.   

¶ The Preface,  

IN the City of Exeter by West a way  
The time not passed hence many a day.  
There dwelled a yeoman discrete and wise,  
At the Sign of the Flowerdelyse.  
Which had to name john Haukyn,  
Descended he was of an honest line:  
A Man but of a mean stature, 
¶ * ⁋   
Full well compact in every feature.  
Broad he was from pine to pine, 
(*)   
And read in the face when he drank wine: 
¶ ‡ ⁋   
Black was his Hair, and hooked his nose,  
And now and then, had the cough and the pose.  
A sickness rained upon him ay, 
¶ * ⁋   
Which troubled him sore night and day:  
Beside the Cough, a bloody flix, 
(*)   
And ever among a deadly yex. 
(●)   
Which brought him to his final day 
(‡)   
But ere that time. I will you say 
¶ * ⁋   
He did espouse within that Country  
In process of years Wives three:  
Each after other in mirth and game,  
Women of great substance and fame.  
And namely the last wedded wife,  
With whom he lived withouten strife:  
T●e space of full fyfteen● year,  
By than: he was laid on a Bear.  
A Daughter he had within band of marriage,  
By his last Wife, a worthy carriage:  
Which named was Edyth at the Fontstone,  
Of. two. women and a man, of blood and bone.  
And when that her Father was laid in grave, 
¶ * ⁋   
From fire and water her to save.  
Her Mother ay did her busy cure,  
As Mothers done by course of nature:  
And virtuously as I have hard say, 
¶ * ⁋   
She brought up her daughter night and day.  
Charging her upon her blessing,  
That she ne should meddle with any thing:  
That swooned unto good huswyfry,  
But ay study to forge and lie:  
And countenance it right well thereto, 
¶ * ⁋   
In every place where she did go.   

This Child obeying her Mother dear,  
Answered to her as you shall hear:   

Mother she said, I am your Daughter,  
I will endeavour myself there after:  
While that I live, I shall resign 
¶ * ⁋   
All such as pertain to virtuous dicyplyne.  
My study shallbe: how I may conclude  
In things the people to delude:  
¶ Thus is the Mother and Daughter agreed,   

Now go said the Mother, God thee, speed:  
Thomas Ellys loveth thee well perfay,  
And wooeth thee fast day by day:  
His desire is to have thee to wife,  
And to live together all your life.  
Wed him hardly spare not a deal, 
¶ * ⁋   
And take another, when he hath not his hele:  
Daughter, meek merry whiles thou may,  
For this world will not last always. 
¶ * ⁋    

She promised her Mother to do full well,  
Every thing after her counsel.   
¶ FINIS.   

The first merry jest: declareth, how this fair & well nurtured Damsel Edyth, was married to one Thomas Ellys: and how she ran away with another, by whom she had a bastard Daughter: and how she deceived a Gentleman, who (for her worthiness) preferred her to Sir Thomas Dennys, before whom she avouched her Daughter to be Heir of fair lands.  

THomas Ellys she married for a year or two,  
And then left him, and away did go:  
With a servant of the Earl of Wyltshyre,  
The which paid her well her hire.   

By him in adultery a child she had,  
Which died when it was but a Lad:  
Than her Leman cast her up,  
Go where she would, gup quean gup:   

She took her way from thence over,  
To a Town called Andover.  
And there she made a gentleman  
Believe that she was from him gone,  
To seek her a friend, which in her right  
Would defend her with main and might,  
For great wrong she said she had:  
And by mighty hand, was sore bestead.  
And by mighty hand wrongfully rest  
Both house and land, and nothing to her left,  
And what so he were that of good Affection,  
would her help: the whole disposition  
Of her only Daughter he should have,  
which is a great Heir, God her save:   

This Gentleman went her right,  
To Sir Thomas Dennis a worshipful Knight  
Informing him, how that it stood,  
With this widow, of gentle blood.  
And how that she had a Daughter and Heir,  
Tender of Age, goodly and fair:  
Which should inherit successively,  
Both house and land: and that good plenty.  
And who that would help her to her right,  
Should have her Daughter day and night,  
In honesty to use: and herself both,  
which thing she bond with a great Oath.   

¶ The Knight hearing this every dell,  
Bade the gentleman, no longer to devil,  
But walk with her, and fet her Daughter,  
And we shall common more hereafter.  
Then they departed, and wandered right forth,  
Till they with good speed came both to Wainsworth  
And there the gentleman, full well did espy,  
How the cogging quean, most falsely did lie.  
Then would he no longer give heed to her talk  
But bade her be packing with a vengeance, & walk  
And never to come in his sight any more.  
Sir, no more I will not (quoth she) & god before.    

The second merry jest: how this lying Widow Edyth, made a poor man to unthatch his House, and bore him in hand, she would bestow the covering of it with Lead: and how she deceived a Barbour, making him believe she was a Widow, and had great abundance of Richesse.  

FRom Wainsworth than, she took her way.  
To lieu: where then, the Lord Chamberlain lay  
And not far from his place, a good long space,  
In a poor man's house lodged she was:  
And was in good credence with him in deed,  
She seeing the house covered with reed:  
Said to her Host upon a day,  
Mine Host (quoth she) next to the high way,  
Take ye the thak of your house a down,  
It is a foul sight butting on the town:  
Have it away fast, leave the Rafters bore,  
And for a new covering take ye no care.  
It shallbe hilled again ere it be long,  
But look ye well that the Rafters be strong:  
For I tell you they shall bear a great weight  
Host (quoth she) I swear by this light:  
I will have that end covered with Lead,  
Came never such a covering over thy head.  
Nor none of thy kin I may say to thee,  
It lieth in my Store house, so moat I thee.  
In fair plain rolls new melt with gleed,  
My Plommer bestowed it, I pray God him speed  
An honest man is he, and expert in that Art,  
The self s●me day that he did departed  
A way from my house I cannot tell where,  
Many a fair Noble with him he did bear.   

Her Host when be had hard this tale,  
With his hands his cap he 'gan avale:  
And with his knees flexed, said unto her there  
I cry you mercy Mistress, what do you here?  
In this poor cottage which is not meet for you   

Hold thy peace (quoth she) for I will not be know  
What I am as yet▪ and for consideration,  
Go thou thy way and work after the fashion.  
As I have said: & look thou speak no word  
But is none of my Lords servants at board  
With you (quoth she) nor hawnte they not hear  
It is like that they should, for you have good beer.   

Yes (quoth her host) now and then among,  
My Lords Barbour is here, with many a good song  
A lively young man I tell you & full of courage,  
Sometime we have here, our whte Wine with borag  
And waters piping hot, out of the gleed,  
We chat and laugh it out, so God me speed:  
Mistress folk must need be merry sometime.   

Host, ye say true by holy, Saint Sym:  
Quod the widow, but let us go to dinner,  
It is. xii. of the cloak and somewhat over:   

Into the house they go, and take refection,  
And after they fell in further communication.   

This young man that barber as he was accustomed  
Came in suddenly and biddeth them God speed:  
Welcome my guest (quod the good man of that house)  
How have you done, since we eat the souse:  
The last night ye remember to bedward?   

Tut and it were a stone never so hard  
Quoth this barber, it should digest with me  
For sometime when it will not forge,  
I drink a little lamp Oil, & cast up my gorge  
And then forth with, I am as hole as a trout,  
But Host, (quoth he) what woman went out  
At the Door now: do you know her well?   

By god's body Thomas barber, I shall thee tell  
She is a widow of late come to town,  
But at all adventures, I had liefer than my gown  
Thou were sure to her, for she to me said,  
She is worth a. M. li. and every man paid  
Beside land, I cannot tell how much,   

The barber 'gan to claw there it did not itch  
Hold your peace (quoth he) she cometh in again,  
Mistress said Thomas, will it please you to drink  
And be ye merry, and use not to think:  
Me seemeth, it becometh a well favoured wight  
And namely a woman to be glad and light.   

Young man (quoth she) I thank God of his loan,  
I have no great cause to make any moan:  
I knowledge this, that God hath endued me  
An hundred fold better than I am worthy:  
And I pray to him, that I never do the thing  
Which is contrary, unto his high pleasing:   

God's blessig have you (said Thomas barber)  
Forsooth ye speak like a good Christian creature  
But let us leave all this, & make some good cheer  
Ostes, fill us another pot with beer  
Quod that Barbour, & bid this gentilwoman welcome   

Mistress said that good wife, this is all & some,  
You be heartily welcome, even at one word  
And therewith she drove the Cat of the board  
And made room for a dish or two more.   

This widow had under her chin, a sore  
That Surgeons call Noli me tangere,  
Which when the barber did espy  
He said Misterisse, may I be so bold?  
Nay yet I will not touch it, for my hand is cold  
I pray you what is this, God save the mark?   

A thing (quoth she) that I will take no great cark,  
For Surgery thereto: for I was borne so,  
I thank God whether I ride or go:  
It doth not grieve me otherwise than you see   

And it is no great blemish, so moat I thee  
Quoth the Barbour, but a little eye sore:  
Now Mistress, do ye gladly, I can no more,  
I trust we shall make better cheer than this,  
And then he began for to coll her and kiss:  
So long they were dalliing, both day and night  
Till each had others their troth yplyght,  
which was the same day, as I hard say,  
That the thatch of the house was pulled away  
And asked they were in holy church,  
where Christ's workmen do wurche.   

But when he by long communication,  
Known her falsehood and dissimulation,  
And after he perceived, he was beguiled,  
In all the haste, his wife he exiled,  
Rating her with terms somthyng rude,  
And here of him, I will conclude.    

The third merry jest: how this Widow Edyth, decyved her Host at Hormynger, and her Host at Brandonfery, and borrowed money of them both and also, one Master Guy, of whom she borrowed iiij. Mark.  

THis widow then walked withouten fere,  
Till that she came to Hormynger:  
within two miles of SAINT Edmund's berry.  
And there she abode, full jocund and merry.  
For the space fully of. vi. weeks day,:  
And borrowed money there as she lay  
Her old lies she occupied still.  
The people gave credence her until.  
At Thetford she said her stuff lay,  
Which false was proved upon a day:  
Than one master Lee committed her to ward  
And little or naught she did it regard:  
On the vi day after delivered she was,  
And at her own liberty to pass and repass.   

Then strait way she took to Brandonfery,  
In all her life was she never so merry.  
And there she borrowed of her Host,  
Thirteen shillings: with myc●●● boast  
Of her great substance, which she sard she had,   

To Bradefolde strait her Host she lad:  
Where she said that she dwelled as than.  
And when she came thither, she filled him a can  
Full with good ale, and said he was welcome,  
For his thirteen shillings, she had him bum  
And laughed tyghe, no more could he have.   

An oath he swore so God him save:  
The justice should know of her deceit,  
A whore (quoth he) ●eyt whore, 〈…〉 eyt.  
The justice 〈◊〉 was master Lee.  
He sent her to Saint Edmund's bury,  
And there in the jail half a year,  
She continued without good cheer.  
But after she was delivered out,  
Upon a 〈…〉 doubt.  
My Lord Abbot commanded it should so be,  
When he was remembered of his charity.   

From thence she departed. & to Coulme she come  
Where with her lies all and some:  
She sudiorned, and was at hoard.  
In an house of my Lord of Oxenford  
Wherein a servant of his own did devil.  
Which brewed bear: but none to cell,  
The Brewer was called john Douchmon.  
With whom. vi. days she did won:  
Then after to Stratford at the bow  
She repaired right as I trow,  
And. seven. days there she abode:  
spreading her lies all abroad.   

In which time one Master Gye,  
Supposing naught that she did lie:  
And trusting of not to have some good  
Four Marks, by the sweet rood  
He lent her out of his purse anon,  
And ashed aye, when she would gone.  
To the place where her goods were laid,  
Which was at Barking (as she said)  
Master Guy and his sister both,  
To ride with her; they were not loath,  
Ne grudged nothing, till they perceived  
That she had them 〈◊〉 deceived  
Than Master Guy with 〈◊〉 mood,  
In the place there as they stood;  
Raft her both kirtle, and gown  
And in her Petticoat: to the Town  
He sent her forth, Mahu her save,  
For his. iiii. Marks. no more could he have.   
¶ FINIS▪   

The fourth merry jest, how this Widow Edyth deceived a Doctor of Divynitie at S. Thomas of Akers in London of five Nobles that he lay out for her; and how she gave him the slip.  

TO Barking than she took her gate,  
And lodged she was, at the Abbay gate:  
For a day, or two, till she could provide  
A Gown: and then would no longer bide  
In that quarter she thought it not best,  
She deemed her profit, there did not rest.  
Namely so neat the nuns nose,  
In a morning she got her over the close:  
West ward she go the sooth to say,  
And came to London that same day  
At Londonistone, she was hosted,  
And there she prated and she boasted,  
Of much fair stuff that she had,  
The which stuff she would be glad  
For the love of Christ to forsake.  
And Mantle and Ring for to take:  
She prayed her Host after a day or two.  
To let his work, and with her to go:  
And bring her to some discrete man,  
The which full well tell can:  
What belongeth unto that thing.  
I mean the Mantle and the Ring:  
Of him she said, she would confessed be,  
desiring the hole Trinity:  
To be her aid in that foresaid matter,   

Her Host brought her to S. Thomas of Acre:  
And there she was provided anon,  
I tell you for troth of such a one:  
As knew by learning what was to do,  
In such business, and what longeth thereto.  
A Doctor he was of high devinytie,  
Called devout and full of charity:  
A good publisher of God's word,  
In Church and Town, and sitting at the Bord.  
This world despising night and day,  
All mundane glory, he would say  
I wholly defy, and utterly forsake,  
The devil (quoth he) shall them all take:  
That loveth these riches, and pomp temporal,  
Moore than God that sent them all.  
They shall never see their maker in the face:  
With Satan prepared is their place:  
In the dark dungeon, in the region alow,  
Of joy and bliss never for to know,  
Moore sinful living was never used,  
Than is now a days: no vice refused:  
And worst of all, with us of the Church,  
That should teach other, how they should wurch,  
And to show them the way to heavens bliss,  
Where our saviours dwelling is:  
O God, why do we not so?  
Why do we not let these Beneficies go?  
Why do we retain more than suffices?  
Why do we not give unto them that cries?  
Why fill we our Bellies? and let other go without  
Why do we not walk out all about?  
Why do we not pray and watch all night?  
Why do we not our duty, as it is right?  
Why do we not let men's wives alone?  
And fylly poor: wenches, making their moan  
Why observe we not: the precepts of God?  
What if we be punished with our own rod?  
Whom shall we erect the fault unto?  
But to ourselves that can never say bo:  
And one thing there is, that maketh my heart to bleed  
As often as I think thereon so god me speed  
This covetousness used, with men of my faculty,  
O, what mean they? Christ's holy benedicitie,  
Can they not be content with iiii. no 〈…〉 five,  
I trow they would that no man should thrive:  
But themselves only, an heavy case,  
I know one man wheresoever he was  
That hath ut. benefices, and yet not content  
And the lest of them is. xx. two. rend:  
I mean by the year, and the cure served,  
And no good is done, but all reserved:  
It is marvel to see the unsatiable mind,  
That can never be full filled, before nor behind:  
I assute you, I could be well pleased  
With iiii. such promotions: & hold me well eased  
As for a certain time, till an other fall,   

Welcome good wife, what say you to all  
This world? now (quod be) have done let see,   

Sir said this Widow, under benedicitie.  
I have for to speak if it like you to hear?   

Come your ways (quod be) & be of good cheer  
Despair not what so ever the matter be,  
I shall go between the Fiend and thee.  
And eke discharge thee again our heaven king  
If that you will do after my teaching?  
Wherefore begin ye in Christ's holy name,  
Break your mind hardly, avoid all shame.   

She kneeled them a down on her knees devoutly  
And told her confessor many a great lie:  
And of the treasure that she had in store,  
And when that she could tell no more,  
Master Doctor bade she should be merry  
He said Ego absoluo te,  
Forte sic, forte non.  
And when that they had all done  
Out of the C●●●ch they went both,  
She promised him a Gown of cloth:  
Of Scarlet colour very fine in grain,  
And an hood thereto, to keep him from the rain  
She promised him beside all that,  
He should have, ye marry algate:  
Of Goblets no more but a nest,  
And of other things she made him hest,  
So that he would, while she were in town,  
Walk with her up and down:  
And lay out money always as she need,  
And three times double so god her speed:  
He should have again within three days  
Therein should be made no delays.   

Master Doctor was well content,  
And in the City before her he went:  
So long: till that he had out laid,  
Of his own money, and for her paid:  
Five Nobles, if the rekning be right?  
And then anon she stolen away by night.   

Master Doctor thought great unkindness,  
That he was so served for his gentleness:  
But she is gone what remedy now,  
His money shallbe paid him, I wots never how.    

The fifth merry jest, how this widow deceived a man & his wife that were going on pilgrimage: who laid out for her. iiij. Nobles: and how she deceived a Scrivener in London, whose name was Rouse.  

BUt more will I tell you in very deed,  
Of this widow, whom I pray god speed  
Shortly after she walked by the Thames' side  
Not far from a way where folk did tied:   

Among all other a man and his wife,  
She saw riding withouten strife,  
Both being of meetly good age,  
It seemed that they were on pilgrimage:  
Toward Canterbery. or some other place,  
Where as it pleased god of his grace:  
But where ere they rid, or to what end,  
Right soon she made them both descend:  
Down from their caple to the cold ground,  
For she fared as she would herself drowned:  
This goodman's name, was called john Frank,  
His wife Annes, a Dame full crank:  
Both they came running in great haste,  
Toward this widow, fullsore aghast:  
least that she ere they come near,  
Would spill herself, she made such cheer.   

john Frank cried, woman remember thee,  
What intendest thou? aye benedicteie:  
think on God and banish the fowl fiend  
Beware of despair, thyself not shend:   

She stayed at that, and sighed sore,  
And said belssed be you, I can no more:  
For had ye not come the sooner, verily  
I should have been damned perpetually,  
But I pray you now, tell me what I shall do   

Quoth this frank come away & with us go  
And tell us further of your estate  
Then (quoth she) I have great hate,  
God I take to judge for mine own right,  
My goods are taken away by might:  
Undone I am standing on this ground,  
I am scarcely left worth. iii hundredth pound,  
As in movable substance, beside a little land,  
Which mine husband left unto my hand,  
For she said, that her husband was a great man  
Of land, and said that he was dea● ta●l,  
God assoil his soul (quoth she) he was kind to me  
And I trust, I quit his kindness quoth she)  
For all folk saying, God forgive them.   

This Frank desired her to walk with him,  
As far as London, and he would do his pain,  
That she might be restored again:  
And the malefactors punished what soever they be  
Widow dread ye nothing, quoth he,  
But come on this way in the name of any lord,  
And I shall bring you where ye shall be at board  
with a friend of mine, in an honest house,  
The good man's sir name is called Rowse:  
There ye shall be honestly entreated,  
But where is the Stuff whereof ye speaked?   

At Kyngston, at Kyngston, then quoth she  
I care not much for it, so mote I thee,  
Ne for all this world, and therewith she 'gan weep   

This Frankes heart than in his body leap,  
This game thought he goeth fair and well.   

He required her no more to tell,  
As at that time: but went foorthryght  
And came to their lodging before night.  
To Frankes friend, as I told you before,  
A scrivener he was, and wrought full sore,  
To him they were welcome and welcome again  
And specially, when Frank had told him certain  
what woman she was, and of what substance.   

Then she told the scrivener of the great distance  
That she was at ●or her right,  
And much wrong she had by means of a knight  
which shallbe nameless as yet, (quoth she)  
Till I see my time avenged for to be.  
God will send me once a friend I trust  
Before which time, I can take no rest,  
Nother in body, nor in conscience.   

Tarry ye here, said the scrivener go ye not hence  
And we shall have friends enough for money,  
I will not stick for that, truly quoth she,  
Howbeit my money is almost spent,  
But I have other things, which shallbe hent,  
And money made thereof me to defend,  
I never had that jewel, so God me mend,  
In all my life, but could find in mine heart,  
In time of need, therewith to departed.  
At Kyngston on Thames I have certain Plate,  
Xl. pounds wurthe for all this mortal hate,  
And other things withal, else I be shrew some▪  
She desired her Host to her for to come,  
I have quod she to tell you in privity:  
Step ye a little apart, let your business be▪  
Into the shop they go out of the hall,  
And than she began for to tell him all,  
And more too by an hundredth lies,  
The scrivener thanked her. xl. scythes,  
For she had made to him grant  
Of part of her Plate, whereof she made vaunt▪  
And the keeping of altogether he should have  
An Oath she swore, so God her save  
Of all her treasure, she cared nor a mite,  
So that she might her enemies acquit.  
But Host quoth she, my friend lief and dear,  
I pray you of your good counsel here:  
This wretched world I am minded to forsake,  
And chastity for to avow and take,  
All my causes I am content to resine  
Into your hands, mine own Host mine,  
Do as ye list, be it good or ill,  
You shall have all to order at your will:  
The scrivener said, gramercy Mistress,  
Forsooth quod he, ye intend well doubtless,  
If ye will do as ye say, I hold well withal  
Than he called john Frank out of the Hall,  
And made him privy unto every thing.  
She said unto them both, that she aught offering  
To Saint saviours, and she would very fain  
Go pay her Offering, and then return again.  
And after she said, that she would desire  
Her Host to write her Testament for hire  
And last will, while she were in good mind,  
So discretely that as for unkind,  
Her friends should not hold her another day,  
when that her presence is hence away.   

The scrivener & Frank both, praised her greatly  
For her good purpose: and said to her truly,  
To perform your pilgrimage, it is well done,  
And I myself shall wait you upon  
Quod john Frank, and eke I will provide,  
A Maiden servant, to walk by your side.  
Toward Saint saviours in haste she go,  
As ye have heard being accompanied.   

¶ Rowsys wives best Kyrttyll and Gown  
She weared on her back throw the town,  
Which was lent her of good affection,  
Because that her own was well-nigh done   

Frank was her amner, & laid out to the poor,  
By the way as they went, & at the Church door:  
Of his own proper money, which did amount  
To the some of. two. Marks, by true account.  
And while they were forth this Rowse the Scrivener  
Scent to Kingston for to inquire  
Of her treasure there being in mew,  
But in all the town, she was not worth a q.  
How be it, she was there, full well I know  
The people laughed all on a row:   

Home goeth the messenger and told in haste,  
Unto the Scrivener all this quoynt cast:   

By coks soul (quoth he) it is not so I hope,  
Else (quoth the servant) hung me with a rope.  
For I have inquired substantially  
In every place I tell you by and by   

By our Lady mass then all is not right,  
But whist no more, she will be hear to night  
My cozen Frank will not let her departed away,  
Thou shalt hear other tidings to morrow or day.   

At five of the clock in the after noon,  
These Pilgrims came home full soon:  
And anon was laid to this widow's charge,  
With high words out at large:  
Her false deceit from point to point  
Than stood she in great disjoint,  
And no reason could she allege nor say,  
For her excuse, but 'gan for to pray:   

Nay then said that Scrivener, god give me sorrow,  
How be it thou shalt tarry hear till to morrow  
And then forth shalt thou, sterk belly naked,  
With dog's errand quen, thou shalt be baited.  
The Scrivener was half ashamed of this,  
And at. iii of the cloak, when he rose to piss  
He put forth his gest on the backside,  
Without companion or any guide,  
Her Gown and her kirtle he took away,  
And Frank went to Fuliam on the next day:  
Deferring his pilgrimage to Caunterbery  
Full sad he was and nothing merry:  
His money was gone and spent indeed  
The blessed Martyr quit him his meed.   
¶ FINIS.   

The sixth merry jest, how this widow Edyth deceived a Draper in London of a new Gown: & a new Kyrtell, and how she sent him for a nest of Goblets to the Scrivener that she had deceived afore.  

HEre will I tarry no longer while  
But to the widow again my style  
I shall direct: and tell some deal more  
Of her pastime, and God before.   

In the City she walked in her Petticoat,  
Yet at the last, acquaintance she got  
Out of her old walk, on the other side.   

A Draper there was, that loved no pride:  
To whom she preferred her accustomed craft  
Lie after lie, and said she was bereft:  
A great part of her goods, full wrongfully.   

Alas (quoth the Draper full piteously)  
It is ruth, to see you go so slender:  
I shall mend it (quoth she) when I come yonder  
To winsore (I trust) where my stuff is,  
God's curse have they, that make me do this.   

Master mine (quoth she) I pray you be not wroth  
Might I be so bold, as of your hole cloth  
To desire you for to deliver unto me  
As much as will suffice (quoth she)  
To make a large Gown, and a kirtle,  
And I shall pay you therefore, full well:  
When I come to winsor, & after your own price,  
So that ye set not on me all the dice:  
But let me have a penny worth for a penny.   

Mistress said the Draper if there be any  
Ware in the Shop: that will do you good  
You shall have it, I swear by the rood:  
So that ye put me in good surety  
For my money: for I know you not truly.   

Sir said the widow, if it be your pleasure?  
To command your servant to ride to Wynsore:  
In my company within these. vi. days,  
You shall have your money without any delays  
And a pleasure withal, for your good will.   

Forsooth ●●yd the Draper, you speak good shyll  
And shortly without any interogation,  
He delivered unto her at the motion:  
Of broad cloth. iiii. yards full we mote  
And eke as much as would make her a cote  
A Kyrtell I would say of good wolstet,  
And commanded his servant for to bear it:  
To the Tailor to be made in haste.   

And on the. 4. day after, when she had took repast  
The Draper sent a jurneyman of his  
With her to Winsore, the way they did not mis.  
A gardevyaunce the servant with him bore  
Therein to bring thence all the short ware:  
That she had promised the Draper before,  
He should have in keeping, I can no more.   

To winsore they came. two. hours before night,  
And at a door of her horse down she light:  
And in she goeth, no more but for a countenance,  
And came out again, saying with a vengeance:  
They must go by water and the way so fair,  
But I think they lacked horse to repair.   

The servant a broad walking the horses,  
Hard her well, when she said all this:  
Not force (quoth he) I shall have the less to carry,   

So you shall said she, nor ye need not to tarry.  
But set up your horse therefore anon,  
In some Inn, and in the mean season  
I shall hastily go wright a skrow,  
To certify your master shortly as I trow.  
The servant to an Inn the horses had,  
While she caused the letter to be made.  
And then gave it him, and bade him go to bed  
To Colbroke: where his horse better might be fed.   

And sir she said, I thank you for your pain,  
Your master will be pleased this letter when he hath lain  
A cup with ale at that door she made him drink.  
And then he road to Colbroke, ere time was to wink  
And to London on that morrow, & delivered his letter  
Unto the Draper that was his master  
The letter bad that he should resort  
To a Scrivener, take heed what I report  
He dwelleth in chepeside, and his name is Rouse  
Bid him deliver you out of his house  
By such a token, an hole nest of Goblets  
A dozen of spoons, see there be no lets,  
A standing cup with a cover parcel gilt.   

Now thought that Draper, I have in my hand the hilt  
I will plead in possession might I that possed   

To the Scrivener his servant he sent with speed,  
For this foresaid gear, and bid him not tarry  
This servants name was called Harry.   

His errand he sayeth unto the Scrivener  
And diligently this Rouse gave an ear  
From the beginning, marking his tale well,   

And when the Servant had told every dell,  
The scrivener said, I will deliver none to thee  
Go home and bid thy Master come to me:  
I will so answer him, that he shallbe content.   

The Servant in haste to his Master went,  
And told him that he must himself repair,  
For this Plate so costly and so fair.   

A, I see well quoth the Draper, this man is no fool,  
Lo what it is, to put a child to school  
To learn wisdom, while he is young.   

Upon his way, he walked so long,  
Till he came thither, and 'gan to tell his tale.   

Neighbour quod the Scrivener, let us drink some ale  
And speak no more in this matter for shame,  
For ye are beguiled, and I am the same.   

Nay by cocks body, I put you out of doubt,  
Said the Draper, ye shall not laugh it out  
With me after such manner: for I will have it in deed   

You shall have none of me by Christ's crede  
Quod the Scrivener, get it where ye can,  
But hearken what I shall tell you man,  
Let me round in your ear that no body know  
For and if it be abroad yblow,  
we shallbe laughed to scorn both,  
Wherefore Neighbour, look ye be not wroth:  
She showed you she had Plate, and so she told me  
But all the good she hath is not worth a penny.  
I have it proved, therefore leave your sighing,  
This shall be good I tell you for our learning.   

Good quoth the Draper in the devils name,  
A vengeance light on her and open shame.  
By the holy Mass quoth he, I will have tde quean  
Else, it shall cost me the labour of all my men,  
For the space I tell you of this fortnyghts' day,  
She shallbe punished truly, as I you say,  
To the ensample of all other, & god grant me life  
Farewell neighbour, I will go dine with my wife.  
Said the Draper sith it will be none other,  
A dieu neighbour, and far well quoth the t'other.   

This Draper went him home in all the haste  
And commanded his servant to take repast:  
And after to ride as fast as he can,  
To windsor and demand for this woman:  
And if it so betide, thou canst her find?  
Take an officer and fast her bind:  
See her bestowed, and then come and tell me,  
And by my thirst shortly will I see:  
What the Law will say to that whore & these both  
I pray thee make speed, & take my boots of cloth:  
Draw them on thy legs, for the way is deep,   

The servant in haste, upon his horse leap  
And road to windsor, by than it was night,  
And at an Inn where he did alight:  
He hard tell that the widow was gone  
Where ne whether witted no man.    

The seventh merry jest who this widow Edyth deceived a servant of Sir Thomas Nevelles, who in hope to have her in marriage with all her great riches kept her company till all his money was spent: and then she went to seek her Friends.  

THe servant to London returned again,  
And on the next morrow she was seen  
in Southwark where she did abide,  
The space of. three days, and then away did ride  
with carryars into Sussex the sooth to say,  
And at Towton she arrived upon a day,  
And there not far from a knyghtsplace:  
Nine days her tarrying was.   

In which time, a Serving man,  
Ha' wnted that House now and than,  
With whom she 'gan to curry favel,  
His Master was Sir Thomas Nevell.   

She promised him to be his Spouse,  
And desired him to ride to her house:  
To see her treasure, and also her store,  
I will quoth she send him before,  
If that ye will tell me what time ye will far,  
Some of my friends forsooth shallbe there,  
And eke my tenants, as their duty is.   

Then he began her to half and kiss,  
Saying▪ heart root, if it please you,  
I am all ready, and it were even now,  
I wots well my Master will not say me nay  
And if that I be forth a Months day  
So that I tell him where abouts I am,  
He will not be angry: but in God's name,  
Peradventure he will say, where hast thou been so long  
Than, and I make curtsy & hold my tongue  
He hath done with the twinkling of an eye.  
But after that I have told him truly,  
That I ride with you he will be well content,  
Once considering the cause the fine of our intent.   

Well then quoth she, on Saturday in the morning  
Let us ride forth our way fasting  
And at Senock there will we bait,  
I fear lest my Girl take some concept  
Because that I am so long her fro,  
It is, xuj. weeks and some what more  
Since I garnished her with the sign of the Cross,  
She learneth her book, with the goodman Rosse  
In Senock town, not far from the Church  
You know him welynow, for he doth worch  
And maketh Carpets now and than:   

true you say (quoth he) I know that man  
Now in sooth I will go and ask my master leave  
And here is a Ring which I you give,  
Upon condition ye wots well what:  
Yes I warrant you quoth she, I remember that   

Then farewell honycombe till I see you again,  
God be with you, and shield you from the rain  
Said the widow, but look that you tell,  
Unto your master wisely and well:  
All our forward, and leave nothing behind.   

Yes, yes quod he, as ye shall well find:  
To his master he goeth, as fast as he can,  
And desired him of licence an on:  
To ride with this widow, a little way,  
As far as her house, at S. Mary Skray:  
And I trust in God omnipotent,  
My labour in vain, shall not be spent.   

His master gave him leave for to ride,  
Work wisely (quoth he) what so ever betid  
And if that her daughter be borne to land,  
Than I advise thee to fall in hand:  
With the child, and let the mother go.   

By God said the servant, and peradventure so  
I will yet do, when I have seen both:  
And upon the friday, forth he goeth:  
Toward this widow jolly, and amorous,  
She was lodged in an honest man's house.   

That night they made merry, with fill the cup, fill  
And on the morrow, they ride forth at their william.   

To Senock they come, by than it was prime  
And goeth to dinner all by time,  
They made good cheer, and spared for no cost   

The widow of new 'gan for to boast.  
But of her daughter, she spoke no word,   

And when that taken up was the board:  
And all paid for, that was come in,  
Come hither (quoth she) sweet heart mine,  
I require you that you will take the way,  
As fast as ye can, to S. Mary Skray:  
And demand there, for the widows house  
That lately was both wise and Spouse,  
To such a man, whose soul god pardon,  
And when that ye come, to the house anon:  
You shall say unto my servant there  
I mean him that is charged with my gear,  
And all my household stuff in my absence,  
That he ere ever ye departed from thence:  
Show you mine house round all about,  
And eke my commodities, within and without  
And when you have viewed every thing,  
Than bid my servant, without tarrying:  
Lead you fast into my closet right,  
And do up the window, to let in the light.  
Unlock the door, with this same key,  
If I trusted you not I swear by my faith,  
You should not come so near my gromelseed,  
And take no more than I you bede.   

Within my closet ye shall anon find  
A little Casket that standeth all behind  
My ship Coffer down 〈◊〉 by the wall,  
Bear with you the Casket pretty and small.   

But I charge you take none other thing  
For and you do at my returning,  
I shall know all: therefore now take heed   

Mary said the young man God forbid  
seeing that ye do trust me so well,  
Go your ways then quoth she: & here I will devil,  
Till ye come again, but look ye make haste:  
I will ride (quoth he) even all as fast.  
As my Gelding can bear me away.   

Forth he galopeth to saint Mary Skray  
And there he inquered. as she him bad  
And anon perfect tidings he had  
That he was beguiled: for there was no man  
Can tell any tidings of such a woman.   

Then a way rideth he as fast as he may,  
And came to Senock at the next day.   

But he could not come to 〈…〉 her to soon,  
But ere ever that he came, the widow was gone:  
Not body could tell weather she 〈◊〉 go.   

Master Nevil'S servant 〈…〉 good speed  
Being in his mind▪ not well content  
For some money he had her sent  
And paid for her cost, I cannot tell what  
Yea, with a mischief I could not beware that  
Quod he than: but yet no force let go  
I will be advised again or I do so.    

The eight merry jest, how this widow Edyth deceived a servant of the Bishop of Rochester's with cogging and boasting of her great Richesse: who likewise thought to have had her in marriage.  

THe Widow northward took her way,  
And came to Rochester the next day:  
And there within a little space,  
To a youngman that servant was  
Unto the Bishop in the Town:  
She promised him dale and down  
On that condition he would her wed.  
And keep her company at board & in bed:   

This youngman was glad and light,  
Now thought he I shallbe made a knight:  
By the means of this gentlewoman's store,  
Gramercy Fortune I can no more:  
He permitted in haste to be assembled,  
With her at the church and there resembled:  
Or joined in one flesh, that is dying▪  
And two souls evermore living.   

Good cheer he made her in her Inn,  
And eke be would not never blinne  
Till be he had brought her to his Lord,  
Before whom they were at accord  
Upon a condition married to be,  
Which condition was if that she.  
Can perform all that she had said  
He would then marry her, it should not be delayed  
Here upon they departed and forth went.   

On the morrow my Lord for her sent.  
To dine with him and to comen further,  
Then was she gone: but when and whether  
No wight any word of her could tell,  
But yet she walked to my Lord of Arundel.    

The ninth merry jest, how this widow Edyth deceived a Lord, sometime Earl of Arundel: and how he sent five of his men servants and a handmaiden to bear her company, and fetch her daughter who as she boasted was Heir of great Lands.  

ANd there anon she told the Earl,  
That she had a daughter a little girl:  
Which was borne to be Heir  
To great inheritance & lands good and fair  
And movable substance not a light,  
If it please God her to respite.  
And grant her life till she succeed,  
Her elders alive: of whose lead  
She is issued by line all dissent.   

And eke she said or that she went,  
That her daughter should hold land  
Hereafter when it cometh to her hand,  
Of that Earl and pay him rend,  
Wherefore she said that she was contet:  
His Lordship should have her to dispose  
And marry her as him best suppose.  
Unto gentleman yeoman or Groom   

She would have her daughter come:  
If it pleased his Lordship it should so he?  
She would fetch her into that country.  
The Earl was contented it should be so,  
And bad his servants for to go  
That is to say, to the number of five,  
And ready make them believe:  
To wait on this gentle woan & bring her thither  
She herself could not tell whether  
Notwithstanding she did say,  
That her housshold was at Foots Scray:  
Where she retained great family.  
As they shall well found sickerly,  
At their repair, and God before.   

And forth they ride without more:  
She was accompanied as I have said,  
With five yeomen and a Maid.  
And all they wooed as they road,  
Each to himself at large abroad:   

One showeth his lustynes & mastery,  
An other taketh up his horse on high  
The third said that he had treasure in store  
The fourth said that he had mychle more.  
The fift was a man of few words  
At the last he said, a straw for your boards,  
Paraduentre he is here that saith not all,  
That somewhat could say; if need should fall,  
Be merry Widow, than (quoth he)  
And cast a Sheps ep 〈…〉 on me:  
For though that I ride pensive and still,  
Perhaps yet I could satisfy▪ your will.  
As well as some other, though I cry not out   

But all this while she cast about  
How she might conveniently steal them fro,  
But at a woods side it happened so:  
A fair house there was whrch she said  
Her husband bought it and for it paid.  
Two years before he let his life,  
And she was now in mikell strife:  
For the said house and lands withal  
And sued she was in Westmynster hall,  
Great thought she took for a friend,  
That in her right would her defend.   

One of the company that hard this,  
Feigned him to light down to pis:  
Purposedly for to go to inquire  
Of this matter to know if that it were  
As she had said, or else that she lied.   

To the house be goeth and there he tried,  
That she was false and a naughty quean:  
In all England not worth a bean.   

When he hard this he galloped fast,  
His company he over took at the last.  
And declared unto them from poy it to point  
Then all their love, was suddenly quoynt  
They light down all by one accord  
Xu. mile when the bad road  
And stripped her out of her array  
Walk whore they all 'gan say.   

Home again they took the way.  
And yet she repaired to Foots Scray.  
There she abude a certain season,  
The next house unto one master Heron.  
A Gown and a kirtle there she did hire,  
Of a poor woman to were to a fair  
Kept there beside upon an holy day:  
Fain she would have made herself gay,  
At the foresaid fair to have be sold  
If any man would be so bold,  
Without examination for to alight.   

And when that she was out of light,  
She got her away a great pace.   

Then came she to Croyden there as she was  
continuing for the space of a wook  
During the which time a poor Cook.  
There dwelling she did beguile,  
And borrowed of him in that while  
Five shillings in Groats and pence.  
And then privily she stolen away from thence.   

Then she came to Eltham the right way,  
Where she rested her three weeks & a day:  
And did nothing but aye inquire  
Of Gentlemen dwelling here and there  
And when she saw her time on an holy day,  
She walked to a Thorp called Batersay:  
And on the next day after, she took a Whery,  
And over Thames she was rowed full merry.    

The tenth merry jest, how this Widow Edyth deceived three young men of Chelsay that were servants to sir Thomas Moore, and were all three suitors unto her for Marriage: and what mischance happened unto her.  

AT Chelsay was her arrival,  
Where she had best cheer of all:  
In the house of sir Thomas Moore   

After that she had told of her store  
And of her haviour and credence eke,  
There was nothing for her to seek  
That could make her merry other even or morrow  
I pray to God now give her sorrow.   

At Eltham she said that she did devil,  
And of her substance there she 'gan to tell:  
Two wolsted looms she had by her faith,  
And two Mills that went night and day:  
A Beer brewhouse in which every week once  
Twenty quarters were brewed all at once,  
Four Ploughs she kept, the earth to cultive,  
And. xv. great knaves to help her to thrive.  
Seven women servants the wool to spin & card,  
And to milk the kine abroad in the yard  
She recounted her family & household so great,  
That three young men she cast in a heat  
Which servants were in the same place,  
And all they wooed her a good pace.  
By means I tell you and by brocage,  
They swore they would be all her own page:  
One of them had to name Thomas Croxton,  
And servant he was to master Alengton  
A man I tell you in whom dame nature,  
Had done her part as in stature:  
He was mighty chyned, with bones strong,  
Shoulders broad, and arms long.  
Very active and apt to every thing,  
Able to serve any Prince or King,  
As for his person and conditions withal  
But there is a point lest that for partial  
I should be holden: because he is my friend  
Wherefore of his praise here I make an end:  
And somewhat I will tell of his wooing.   

To his master & mistress, he was greatly beholdig  
For busy suit they made night and day,  
In his cause if I shall the sooth say:   

And he himself was full serviceable,  
To this widow at dinner and at the table:  
And eke at supper he stood aye at her back,  
So near that and if she had let a crack.  
Never so still he must have had knowledge,  
But all is honycombe he was in such dotage   

Whertu a little while, I let him devil,  
And of the second wooer I shall you tell.  
Which had to name Thomas Arthur,  
And servant he was to master Roper.  
A proper man neither to high nor to low,  
But Dame nature soothly as I trow:  
Referred his gift unto Dame grace,  
Desiring her to consider the case  
Concerning this man, and that she would  
I●de to him with virtuous manners manifold  
And no doubt she was therein nothing slack   

Peace no more he standeth at my back.  
And if he hear me praise him, he will ween I flatter.  
Therefore I will resort to former matter.  
And tell of his wooing partly as it was,  
And what spe 〈…〉 olke he had by god's grace.  
His own Master and Mistress also,  
With other beside, I cannot tell who.  
That laboured for him incessantly  
And his own self I tell you truly:  
Was not negligent ne lost no time,  
But gave attendance from morning to prime,  
And the after none with part of the night,  
In her chamber the candles he did light:  
And tymbred her fires in the chimney,  
And can ye find in your heart he would say,  
To love me sweet heart best of all?  
Yes quoth she, but I will not tell you all,  
What my heart thinketh as now,  
But Thomas against to morrow I pray you  
That you will get you leave to ride with me,  
As far as Braynford and there ye shall see  
Some money received else it is ill,  
But I would we had one that this cup would fill,  
With Malmsey that we might drink to bed ward   

Whip quod Thomas and got him down ward  
And cometh again with the cup full,  
Drink Widow quoth he a good pull  
And when ye see your time get you to rest  
He have you in his keeping that may keep you best,  
Adieu quod she, and farewell till to morrow,  
Here is good Malmsey else god give me sorrow.   

On the next day Thomas road with this widow,  
As far as Braynford and I shall tell you how:  
And what cheer they made by that way as they rod  
Thomas right well his horse bestrode  
A full fair stirrup out at the long.  
His horse was a beast goodly and strong:  
And bear them both easily away,  
And still would stand while Thomas did say  
Let me kiss you darling, turn your face hither  
Be it quoth she, ere that we wend farther:  
And thus the pass the time as they ride  
To Braynford where they did not long abide:  
For shortly to Thomas she 'gan then tell,  
Her debtor was gone to Kingston to dwell.   

Thomas began for to muse of the matter,  
And there then privily he did inquire:  
Of the goodman of the house where his horse stood  
Which knew her right well & swore by the rood  
She lied in every thing that she did say,  
Then quoth Thomas to himself a sirrah, a sirrah.  
Is this the matter in very deed?   

Home ward he carried her with good speed,  
To Chelsay again where she was used  
As she was before and holden excused:   

Thomas kept all this within his own breast  
Because his fellows should not at him jest.  
And in her chamber the next night following  
There was the revel and the gossupping  
The general bumming as Margot Giggs said  
Every body laughed, and was well apaid:  
Two of her wooers being there present.  
Thomas Arthur when he saw his time went  
And sat him down in a chair solemnly  
Andrea said nothing but now and then an eye:  
He cast at his love, as she stood at the Cubord,   

When she perceived she spoke near a word.  
But stepped unto him and kissed him sweet,  
Saying how is it with you, I pray you let me weet.   

Thomas answered on this world I think  
Cut a straw quod she, take the cup and drink.  
Therewith she embraced him be merry sweet heart  
She turned her arse in his lap, & let a great fart,  
And I loved you not (qd she) I would not give you this  
Ha' ha' quod Tomas, ye be a merry one twis   

They laughed on a row that some of them shaken,  
The Widow desired the court to be broke  
And each wight to his bed to repair.   

The morrow was Sunday and the wether fair.  
This Widow determined herself to walk,  
As far as Haly well, for she hard men talk:  
That there should be a sister that day professed,  
And to offer with her she was disposed:  
Desiring the young Nun with her sisters all,  
To pray for her to the high God immortal  
That it shall please him of his abundant grace,  
In the end of this world, that away from his face:  
She ne should be separate in any wise,  
To Holy well she walked and once or twice  
She drank or she came there, for the way was long   

The Nuns in the quyre had begun their song:  
In the high mass & Bells begin to ring,   

When the widow approached to make her offering  
After the Gospel her purse she took in hand:  
And searched therein, but nothing she found.  
A side she cast her eye and anon was ware,  
Of Thomas Croxton at Chelsay her first wooer,  
To whom she said I pray you lend me fast,  
Some white money that I might offer in haste,  
Or else change me a noble quoth she anon   

Thomas Croxton looked her upon  
And said sweet heart ye shall change no Gold  
At this time: I have money enough, hold.  
How much will steed you, say on, let's see.   

Xii. pence I pray you, deliver unto me,  
Quod she than, and see it be in Groats,  
For I will offer. xl. pence, because of reports,  
And I might once get home, I would not care for money   

When she had offered the sooth to say,  
She roamed in the Cloister too and fro,  
Till a young man saw where she did go,  
And water Smyth was this youngman's name,  
One of her wooers, and I might tell for shame,   

A, thought Water, now here is good place,  
To speak of my matter, and to show the case  
Now it standeth with me, and also to be plain.   

Softly he walketh this widow again  
And first hailed her as him thought meet,  
Then took her in his arms and kissed her sweet  
She knew him well enough for he was one of them three  
That I told you before dwelled in Chelsay   

This Water his tale 'gan for to tell  
Widow quod he take keep and mark well,  
What I shall to you say without dissimulation:  
I can no longer mew mine heartily affection.  
Ne enclose the secrets of my true mind,  
But to you I must break trusting ye willbe kind  
Syrcunstance voiding because I cannot suiurne  
Long with you at this time, but I must return  
From whence I come, therefore to you anon  
Among all your suitors I pretend to be one.  
Now Widow look well upon me quoth he,  
And if you can find in your heart to love me:  
As well sweet darling as I love you,  
Than I trust there shallbe such seeds isow  
Betwixt us both that it shallbe principally  
To God's pleasance and to our comfort secondly   

Then the Widow answered with a smiling cheer  
And said goodman Water I pray you tell me here  
Whether ye mean good sadness or else that ye jest,   

I think as I speak so god my soul rest.  
Quod Water therefore show unto me  
That I shallbe excepted, or else that I am not he  
I am a young wooer and dare not speak for shame  
But yet to love unloved ye know it is no game,   

Troth ye say quoth she, I affirm the same  
And if I love you not again in faith I am to blame  
When I come next to Chelsay ye shall well found  
That afore all other I bear you my good mind  
A crucifix quod she of the pure Gold  
Which many a day hath remained in my hold,  
You shall have it for a token and a remembrance.   

Than water stood on tiptoe & 'gan himself avance  
I thank you quoth he even with all my heart,  
He kissed her deliciously, and then did departed.   

To Chelsay again, she came the same night,  
But than the world was changed all was come to light   

Her substance was known & herself also,  
For Thomas Arthur that day had ridden to & fro:  
And tried her not worth the sleeve lace of a gown  
In all England in City nor yet in town:  
Than well away her diet was changed  
Her pottage & eke her ale were well powdered  
With an wholesome influence that surgeons call,  
Powder Sinipari that will make on cast his gall:  
It made her stomach unable to broke any meat  
Now was she cold and forthwith in an heat.  
Her pulses beat, and her colour went and come  
No morsel did she eat but now and then hum,  
S●e was greatly 〈…〉 oh, & lat out of frame  
All that 〈◊〉 at Supper had good game  
〈◊〉 to behold, and they laughed all about.   

Quod she, for God's love let me come out  
Let me come let me come, for our Lady's sake,  
My beir rumblytn, and my heart doth ache  
In such wise, that I know I am but dead,  
If I have non air: ah good Lord my head.   

But she was aye kept in, that she could not start  
Till my Lady 'gan to have pit in her heart,  
And for woman's honesty, bad that she should rise   

But ere that time, I am sure twice or thrice,  
It knockyd at the Door to have issued out,  
But with great pain, she made it walk about.   

When that she was up, she got her forth apace  
And ere she had walked. thirty. foot, she marked a chase  
And eftsoons another, through the Hall as she go  
Her nose burst out also and 'gan for to bleed.  
Into the coalhouse she goeth, & there made a draght  
Held her aye thereon, till she had laid her laght.  
And when she was of her nest, one that height Browne  
Cam roning in his Doublet without cote or Gown  
Saying Madam, Madame, by the man's bones  
I fear me, lest there be fire among your coals,  
Howbeit, I saw no light, but a stinking smoke:   

O bont Deus quod my lady, get thee fast & look  
God shield and out lady, that any reckless wight  
Bore thither any Candle, this present night:  
Go look, go look quod she in haste get thee hence,   

Browne went him forth, & by the sufflemence,  
He tried that there was no material fire,  
He laughed & swore by the soul of his Sire  
That one word more he could not speak for shane  
Good night quoth he, at the best is this game:   

Soon after the widow came forth well eased,  
That Coney, that coney quoth she, was not well roasted:  
That I eat at Haly well, but I have made avoidance  
The devil go with all, & a vengeance,  
I shall mend now I trust: & then she went to bed:   

Her lodging was changed there, that rested her head  
But she was in more honour, than ever she was afore  
Not withstanding her gown & kirtle of her gore  
Was taken away and restored to the owner.   

The massiff chains day & night she did were  
And where great Estates were chains about their necks  
She had disayne to were then on her legs  
But whether she he content or displeased,  
For the space of three week's the chains she weared  
And after in a day at a jail delivery,  
She was discharged being glad and merry.    

The. xi. merry jest, how this widow Edyth: deceived three youngmen if the Lord Legates servants with her great lying craking and boasting of her great treasure and jewels.  

TO Westminster, she walked after as I trow,  
And in the house with the pie in the window:  
She was lodged, but there was no place,  
Long for to tarry considering her case.  
Gone was her money well near all  
She had full suddenly a great fall  
As ye have hard before, but yet nothing dismayed  
On a day to herself thus she said:  
What should I here devil and no penny in purse  
If I tarry any longer I pray that gods curse  
Light upon me even by and by.   

Then away she got her and that hastily  
And ere she had walked a furlong way or two  
She had bethought her where for to go   

Heaven king quoth she full of grace  
Why remembered not I my Lord Legates place  
By God I must have there, yet some good cheer   

Alone will I go without any fear  
And fuist into the porters lodge full right  
And there demand for such a knight:  
That I know well is not there now.   

I shall report in what manner and how  
My lands be kept from me by strength,  
Such a tale I will tell at length,  
That some man will give an ear I trow  
And desire me further for to know.   

To the Porter's lodge she goeth a great pace,  
And as she had devised, opened the case.   

The Porter asked, why she went so bore?  
In sooth quoth she, I take no great care,  
How that I go, while my business last,  
I trust it shallbe mended now in haste.   

Than, in came a yeoman that was called Shire  
And stood upright, and warmed him by the fire,  
giving an ear always now and than,  
And at the last, he stepped forth like a man  
Saying fair mistress, what is your suit?  
If ye think it best: come tell me without  
And for the good mind I bear to all widows  
I promise' you ere you go out of this house  
You shall have friends and that without money,  
Wherefore take ye no thought but be aye merry.   

And while they were commoning of this work  
A yeoman approached that was called john Clarke:  
And he demanded what the matter was?   

Gentle man quoth she, thus standeth the case,  
I am a poor widow left all alone  
And hither I am come to make my moan.  
Great wrong I have, as God well knoweth  
For in all this world I ne oweth  
Pound nor Noble that aught to be paid,  
But of ten times so much I am delayed.  
I pray to God once to sand me an head  
That I may sleep at home in my bed:  
For I am weary of this running about,  
And yet always I stand in great doubt  
Lest that the bigger will eat the Been,  
gentlemen quod she, ye wots what I mean?  
Therefore help me for your mother's blessing  
And ye shall have gold & gold good sterling:   

Further she saw coming to her ward,  
The third yeoman called Thomas Apricharde  
Which anon demanded what that matter meant  
john Clarke quickly by the hand him hent:  
Led him apart, and told in his ear,  
Seest thou quoth he, this homely gear?  
By god's sides she is a widow & that of great substance  
And marry she would, I know by her dalliance   

Peace quod Thomas, have her to the wine,  
And let us draw cuts, either thine or mine,  
So be it, said Clark and let us no more talk  
Mistress said he, will it please you to walk  
In to the town? and drink a pint of wine  
And doubt ye not ye shall do well and fine:  
For and if that ye pretend title of right,  
You shall have them that in your quarrel will fight  
And need be: but it shall not come thereto.   

Gentlemen quoth she, I am pleased to go,  
With you at this time trusting of your aid  
And one of you three, I shall make well apaid  
Who so ever he be and God before.   

Master Clark tell me where ye were boar,  
And if ye will be a good husband so god me speed  
And follow my counsel, ye shall have no need:  
To none of your kin, but ye shallbe able  
To lend unto him, Hall, Chamber and stable,  
As he shallbe able to lend unto you.   

God thank you said Clark, but here is the house now  
Wherein we will drink & make good cheer.   

Hosts quoth he, fetch us bread, ale and beer  
And eke wine and that of the best,  
Said Thomas Aprichard, for so god my soul rest  
This night I am disposed to laugh it even out  
Be merry widow and nothing doubt.  
For he dwelleth not under our king's obeisance,  
Shall do you wrong in England nor in France.   

But all Thomas words little she did regard,  
Her eye was ever to john Clark ward  
To whom she said the self sane tide,  
Master Clark quoth she, will ye to morrow ride?  
As far as Barking, ye shall have horse of me,  
And eke a noble in your purse so mote I thee  
And there nothing else shall ye do  
But see my folks and cattles also:  
And then return when ye shall see it good.   

Quod john Clerk I shall by the rood:  
But where standeth your horse, let me that know,   

He is not far hence as I trow  
Quoth she: I shall tell you in the morning,  
Well then let us drink in the evening:  
Quod john Clark, for here is good drink indeed  
And good meat also, I pray you widow feed.  
The time they pass merely till ten of the clock  
Yea, and I shall not lie, till after the first coke  
Than they departed and to their beds went,  
Thomas aprichard paid for all that was spent,   

john Clark in the morning made him yare,  
Thought he: now I will yonder away far  
I like this gear even very well.   

He inquireth for the widow, but no man can tell  
Where she is become, with walk quean walk  
John Clark then fell into other talk  
And let her go the fiend be her guide,  
But here now I can not long abide.  
Considering her pastime in every place,  
For if I should leave off, it should deface  
In a manner her book, which were greae pity  
And ruth also, I swear by Saint Dauye  
Wherefore somewhat further of her I will write,  
And without addition truly to endite.   
¶ FINIS▪   

The, xii. merry jest, how this widow Edyth deceived the goodman of the three Cups in Holborn, and one john Cotes that  will, her to Saint Albon to ever see her lands and tenements, and how they were rewarded.  

FRom Westminster to Holborn she flew at one flight  
And at the sign of the three cups she did alight  
Trusting there to season on her pray  
For she had eaten no meat of all that day.   

first she asked for the goodman of the Inn,  
And as soon as she saw him, anon she did begin.  
To tell him a tale and never a true word,   

Host quoth she, might I be with you at board  
For the space of eight, or else nine days  
And ye shall find me honest at all assays  
Full well I shall pay for all that I take,  
O blessed Lady so mine head doth ache,  
I have run so fast that my wind is near gone:   

Maid I pray you step to the door anon  
And look if ye may see four tall men:  
With swords & buklers as fast as they may ren  
They have chased me all this long day,  
And will not be answered for aught that I can say,  
I see well that she is best at ease,  
That hath little or naught in this world to lose  
All my trouble I may wit a little substance  
Which is my own, it procureth me grievance   

But my Host quoth she, help me now,  
I shall tell you in what manner and how.  
The case standeth, and remedy is none,  
But and if I be taken I must needs begun:  
What betwixt the kings servants & my lord Legates  
I am so asayled that I wots not whither to go  
divers would have me but I am determined this also  
Never to be coupled to a Courtier iwis.  
While that I live, and god be my good Lord  
Her host desired her to sit down at the board  
You shall quoth he, have the best help that I can  
And for your sake: I would I were a single man.  
Therewith he twinkled and looked full narrow  
And kissed her twice & chirked like a Sparrow.   

In sooth said she if there were an honest man?  
Wise and toward I may say to you now  
I could find in my heart to make him a man,  
And if ever I marry he shallbe such a one  
As to look for great goods I will not in sooth  
For I have enough for him and me both.  
And if that he be not to great a waster?  
But I will none that shallbe called master.  
These Roisters of the court no point towchon  
My nebors when they come to make their moan  
Desiring of reformation of things misused  
Shall not stand caples i to him that is used  
To lyg by my side, and to kiss me in the night.  
Nay, nay: I will none such by god almight.  
But host quoth she, against the next saturday  
I pray you provide me and if that ye may  
Whatsoever they cost two men and two horse  
For I must ride to S. Albon in manner perforce.  
I have been long thence the worse housewife am I  
But I trust I have them there that will look & espy.  
If any fault be: and see it amended,  
Mine houses there be meetly well defended  
I mean this, they stand in good reperation  
And my house at the cross keys is like the fashion  
Of your house here, but that it is much bigger   

God have mercy on the soul of my good father,  
He had great pleasure there to lie.   

And is the cross keys yours, say ye truly?  
Quod her host: marry there is a fair lodging  
And a goodly backside there unto belonging.   

Yea quoth she, I have their housing & also ground  
In the town & near by, worth. u hundred pound.  
And if it should be sold to the value.   

And in Barnet the Inn repaired new  
With the sign of the Lyon is mine own right  
My father bought it of a good Knight  
God remit their trespass both twain,  
But I pray Christ grant we have no rain  
Against we ride: for the way will be foul.   

Her host answered and swore by his soul,  
I shall man you quoth he, and against that tide  
Eke purvey an other that gladly will ride:  
Waiting upon you and if that need be,  
He shall stand in a man's stead so mote I thee.   

Also you shall have to your handmaid,  
Mine own dear daughter, as my wife said:  
Ride when please you all things shallbe ready  
I lack no more but a pair of Boötes truly.   

Mine host quoth she care ye not for that  
Take ye pain till ye come to Barnat,  
And there ye shall have choice of twelve pair  
Which I distrained for mine house there.   

A tenauntry I have there in which did devil.  
A souter that made Boots for to cell:  
And shoes also full good and strong,  
I may say to you he dwelled there so long  
Till his hair 'gan to grow throw his hood,  
Ind than when the false knave understood  
That I was at Otford away in kent,  
busy there proving my husband's testament  
He would have stolen away by night,  
But yet his purpose came to light.  
It happened so that a tenant of mine,  
Was late in the evening milking of kine.  
And saw mine whoreson when he busked him forward  
With such trash as he had, & then honward  
She her hied as fast as she may,  
And told her husband to morrow or day  
Twyfeld will fleet and the rent is unpaid:  
Go & distrain him, in hast she said:  
In my master's name: and so he did indeed  
Boots and Shoes I have enough so God me speed  
And other trumpery, I cannot tell what  
But I will see when I come to Barnat.   

Host quoth she, I pray you let us well be horsed  
For I have been many times troubled:  
By the way as I have ridden for lack of horse,   

Her host answered give ye no force  
You shall have such that shall bear ye thorough  
Well then quoth she, all is good enough,  
At S. Albon I have horse of mine own.   

The goodman than walked into the town  
And provided her a servant that was called  
john Cotes, a man that never failed:  
His master, nor mistress in time of need.   

On the day appointed, they ride forth with speed.  
And at their departing, this widow borrowed  
Upon her Hostess, which she heartily desired  
A Cap: an Hat, and three kerchieves thereto  
A couple of silver pings, a payr of Hokes & no more   

A pace they ride, till they come to Whetston,  
And there 'gan to speak to them anon,  
My friends quoth she, take keep what I say,  
I have be thought me, riding by the way  
That it is not best for us this day,  
To ride through Barnet, & I shall tell you why?  
One knave or other will us there espy,  
I know that I am waited for in the town:  
Wherefore by mine advise, let us light down,  
And bait here, and rest a little while,  
And then ye shall see us them all beguile.  
For when that we come to Barnet towns end,  
We shall there then spite of the fiend  
Ride in the Lane, on the backside.  
I know the way, we shall need no guide:  
And at the wyndmyl we shall come in our way again  
And than furthryght fair and plain  
Till that we come to Hatfeld Parkepale:  
And there I have a Tenant that selleth Ale,  
And a farm besides which yields me by the year  
Thirteen pound: and when I come good cheer:  
Mine horse meat & man's meat, & cost me naught  
Mine husband when he died, for that Farm ought  
Forty Marks: but I thank God now  
My Farmer may go both to Cart and Blow,  
At his own pleasure, and no man him warn,   

well then said Cates, beside this barn,  
Let us now light and walk to our Inn  
This Maid here wall first begin:  
Lepe down quoth he, & let me help your Mistress   

Nay said the widow I will none of your service  
At this time: I shall descend without assistance   

The place where they baited was not far thence  
To the which they roamed & made good cheer   

And when they had paid for bread ale & beer  
And for other things. I cannot tell what,  
The widow departed from the place there she sat,  
And called for horse: let us ride now quoth she.   

I am well contented so moat I thee  
Said her host and Cotes agreed thereto,  
But hosts quoth she, or ever that we go  
When we be on horseback fyl a pint with Malmsay,  
And sirs between you, look that ye well pay:  
For every thing, and that with the most,  
I have done said Cotes, whatsoever it cost  
She is allowed after her own price.   

To horseback than, they go at a trice,  
And ridden forth till they came to Barnat.   

Now friends quoth she, I will algate  
Leave the town as I told you before.   

Cotes answered and a great oath swore,  
That he would not ride out of his way,  
Care ye not quoth he, what folks say  
And if that ye be known: what for that,  
Put on your head this hood and your hat.  
And eke this cloak about you, & if you doubt▪  
Than and they gawren round about  
You shall not be known of any manner wight  
I pray you let us ride for it draweth unto night.   

Tut quoth she ye be a merry man,  
Trow ye that my own folk ne can  
Know me: and if I be disgused  
Yes I warrant you ye shall hear it cried:  
If we ride through the town, for I shall tell thee Cotes  
I have them in my Inn and they see but my foot  
They will know me, and what remedy than  
I know you will defend me like pretty men,  
Unto your power: but what is one or twain  
In comparison to six, if they meet in the way?  
But seeing ye will jeopard it give me my cloak  
Ride forth a pace and not once a side look.  
When we come aghast the Lion but hung down your heads  
And give me in my hands your beads  
I will occupy both my heart and eke my mind  
The better assistance, I trust we shall find.  
You but quoth her host, how shall I do for my boots  
I pray you that either I or else Cotes  
May ride for them, and gallop after in haste  
I say quoth she, till we be this town passed  
We will not tarry for aught that may fall  
Worce arrayed than you are, ye cannot be at all  
At S. Albon we shall amend all faults,  
And I trust arm us for all assaults.  
Well then let us ride in Christ's holy name  
If ye think it best: for I am yet the same  
Man that I was erst for all the mire,  
They road through the town like as wild fire,  
Mad be● new put in every horse tail.  
And when that they came to the wyndmyl with the sail  
There Cotes 'gan for to speak anon,  
What way quoth he, shall we ride upon.  
Mistress where is your Farm the ye told of before   

Alas said she that ever I was boar:  
It maketh me sick to think on the foul way  
That we must pass throw, what should I more say  
A lane there is between us and that  
The Porter of hell I dare say with his hat  
Cannot escape but he must lig in the mire,  
But we will do well. I wots what is our hire.  
To Hatfeld we shall ride this same night,  
And to morrow when we have the day light  
We shall go to S. Albon by than it is noon  
And my business there, will not be done soon.  
It will cost us two or three days wark.   

But sirs quoth she, is none of you a clerk?  
I must have a quytance made for my rent  
To a knave which me sore repent:  
That ever he occupied any ground of mine,  
I am sure be hath of Oxen and kine  
An hundred heads: and much stuff beside  
And the errand knavee when I come he will him hide  
Making him as bore as a birds tail,  
And when I speak with him he will not fail  
To tell me a tale hinching and pinching.  
And in faith Mosteris I have no good thing.  
To make you there: but it doth me good to see you.  
But if I could tell in what wise and how  
To avoid the heynard, he should not long abide.   

Well said Coats what so ever betide,  
This same present night I will ride  
To S. Albon: I like not this tittle tattle tattel.   

Why quoth she, and ye think your horse be able  
To bear you through, than do as ye list  
But I pray you that you bring me first:  
To Hatfelde, and than ye shall have a token  
To my servant that dwelleth in my Inn,  
With the cross keys in S. Alban's town:  
And tomorrow in the morning, up and down  
You may see mine house, and my easement there,  
And afterwards truss together all my gear   

You shall have in the parlour next to the street  
A coffer standing at my beds feet:  
In which coffer all my money is,  
Tree Hundred Marks, I have therein i wis  
In six bags, but look that ye bear  
But two of the lest with you, for I have certain gear  
In the t'other so were, which shall not as yet,  
Be seen of any body: I let you wit:  
You may say that I trust ye, to let you come so near   

Show Thomas Edward's my servant there  
Where I am and that I sent you thither,  
Commanding him for is deliver.  
My keys to you: by such a token  
The which keys were made to open  
The new chest at mine own beds feet  
And eke my Whuch that is fast i shut:  
Wherein remaineth all my plate  
Truss it surely: and yet beside all that  
I pray ye that ye will take so much pain  
At that ye see no lyhelyhood of rain  
As to bring with you unto this town,  
A kirtle of chamblet and my tawny Gown:  
They lie on the press in my own chamber,  
My purse also, with my Beads of amber.  
Take these things I pray you, as fast as ye may,  
Make a farthel thereof and sand them a way,  
By Thomas Edward's to the Lion in Barnet,  
And when ye have thus done, remember this yet.  
Take two fresh Geldings out of my stable,  
And leave yours there, till they be better able  
To journey on the way: Sirs say I not well?   

Yes said Cotes, if it be as you tell?  
At the chequer in Hatfelde, she took her lodging  
When it was full late in the evening.  
There her Host and Cotes departed her fro  
And also as fast, as their horses can go  
They ride till they come to S. Albon's town  
And there demanded up and down  
For the cross keys and found it at last:  
Thomas Edward's there they asked for in haste  
And than was none such in all the throwfare  
That whore quoth Coats evil mote she far  
Hath beguiled us, and what remedy now.   

His fellow answered I shall tell thee how  
Peradventure there are more cross keys than one  
Ask ye some body, and ye shall know anon.   

The ostler told them that there was yet an other  
I thank you said Cotes my own good brother.   

There they demanded as they did before  
The good man asked where they were boar:  
And what they would have, that time of night?   

Quod Cotes to his fellow let us down light  
This is the house I wots well enough,   

A master Edward's, I pray you tell us how  
That ye live here in your mistress absence   

Masters quoth he: Sirs get you fast hence.  
By mine aid as I intend well,  
Therewith she went and on her knees fell.   

Than her host asked what she would give.  
On that condition she might have leave  
To walk at her will whether she would.   

Three Grots quoth she in fair peace itolde  
And that is all that ever I have,  
At this time upon me so god me save.  
The money he received, and then bade her go  
Whether she would: but do no more so.  
At three of the clock in the dark morning  
Away she yed before the dawning.  
And where she become then that tide,  
I cannot tell you in all this world so wide▪  
But far well frost sith that she be gone.   

Cotes and his fellow in the morning when  
They were up risen, and kempt their hair  
For the widow they asked: & than was there  
No body could tell whither she was go,  
Their host they demanded: and he said by creed  
He wist not where she was let her go  
Quod he then: it is well ye scape so.  
One looked on an other, & witted not what to say.  
And in conclusion even the right way  
To London they took in all the haste,  
They would not once tarry to break their fast:  
And of this prosses I make an end.  
God save the widow, where ever she wend.   
¶ FINIS.  by Walter Smith.  

 

   

¶ Imprinted at London, in Fleetlane: by Richard johnes.