Tarlton's news out of Purgatory.  
Only such a jest as his jig, fit for Gentlemen to laugh at an hour, etc.  
Published by an old Companion of his, Robin Goodfellow.  
AT LONDON, Printed for T. G. and T. N. 1590.   

The Contents of the whole book.  

The tale of Pope Boniface, and why he wore a Miller's cap, and a malkin in Purgatory. fol. 4  
What kind of men those be that God never made. 6  
What creatures those be, that in sight are Carnations, in smell Roses, in hearing Sirens, in touching Nettles, and in taste wormwood. 9  
What occupations take more pains about God, than the Pope. 10  
The tale of Friar Onion, why in Purgatory he was tormented with Wasps. 13  
The tale of the three Cuckolds, of their Impresses, & Mottoes. 21  
The tale of the Cook, and why he sat in Purgatory with a Crane's leg in his mouth. 22  
The tale of the Vicar of Bergamo, and why he sits with a coal in his mouth in Purgatory. 29  
The tale of the Painter of Doncaster, & why in Purgatory he was beaten with a bell rope. 33  
Why the gentlewoman of Lions sat with her hair clipped off in Purgatory. 38  
The tale of two Lovers of Pisa, and why they were whipped in Purgatory with Nettles. 42    

To the Gentlemen Readers, Health.  
GEntlemen, the Horse when he is first handed to the wars, starteth at the crack of every piece; and every couched Lance is a censure of death to a fresh water Soldier: So fareth it with me, for never before being in print I start at the sight of the Press, and having not dared to look into the open light, I feared with the Owl to fly before it be twilight: yet I have heard others whose books have passed your view, account you so favourable, courteous and affable, shrouding every escape with silence; that I presumed the rather to experience with them the hope of your favours: which if I find as they have done, though I be blind Bayard, yet I will in the thickest of the mire plunge up to the Saddle for your sakes. Virgil afore he wrote his Aeneidos, wrote his Culex; and assayed in trifles, afore he attempted in Triumphs. Lucan wrote Quaedam Lirica, before he began with Bellumper Emathios plusquam Civilia campos. Room was not builded on a day, and men that venture little, hazard little: So gentlemen, I present you with a toy of Tarlton's, called his news out of Purgatory; which I desire you accept as courteously as I offer willing to to please: Though they be Crepundia yet read them, and if you find any pleasant Facetia, or Quicquid Salis▪ think all savoury, and so pleased without being satirically peremptory: for Momus will have a mouth full of invectives, and Zoilus should not be Zoilus if he were not squint eide. Therefore leaving their humours to the wordmongers of malice that like the Vipers grew odious to their own kind, hoping of your courteous censure, I bid you farewell.   

Tarlton's news out of Purgatory.  
SOrrowing as most men do for the death of Richard Tarlton, in that his particular loss was a general lament to all that coveted, either to satisfy their eyes with his Clownish gesture, or their ears with his wittyiests. The wont desire to see plays left me, in that although I saw as rare shows, and heard as lofty verse, yet I enjoyed not those wonted sports that flowed from him as from a fountain, of pleasing and merry conceits. For although he was only superficially seen in learning, having no more but a bare insight into the Latin tongue, yet he had such a prompt wit, that he seemed to have that Salem ingenij, which Tully so highly commends in his Orator. Well, howsoever either natural, or artificial, or both, he was a mad merry companion, desired and loved of all: amongst the rest of whose wellwishers myself being not the least, after his death I mourned in conceit, and absented myself from all plays, as wanting that merry Roscius of Players, that famozed all Comedies so with his pleasant and extemporal invention: yet at last, as the longest summers day hath his night, so this dump had an end: and forsooth upon whitson monday last I would needs to the Theatre to see a play: where when I came, I found such concourse of unruly people, that I thought it better solitary to walk in the fields, then to intermeddle myself amongst such a great press. Feeding mine humour with this fancy I stepped by dame Anne of Cléeres well, & went by the backside of Hogsdon: where finding the Sun to be hot, and seeing a fair tree that had a cool shade, I sat me down to take the air, where after I had rested me a while I fell a sleep: As thus I lay in a slumber, me thought I saw one attired in russet with a but tond cap on his head, a great bag by his side, and a strong bat in his hand, so artificially attired for a Clown, as I began to call Tarlton's wonted shape to remembrance, as he drew more near and he came within the compass of mine eye, to judge it was no other but the very ghost of Richard Tarlton, which pale and wan sat him down by me on the grass. I that knew him to be dead at this sudden sight fell into a great fear, insomuch that I sweat in my sleep: which he perceiving, with his wonted countenance full of smiles began to comfort me thus. What old acquaintance, a man or a mouse? Hast thou not heard me verify, that a Soldier is a soldier if he have but a blue hose on his head? Fear not me man, I am but Dick Tarlton that could acquaint it in the Court, and clown it on the stage: that had a quart of wine for my friend, and as word for my foe: who hurt none being alive, and will not prejudice any being dead: f●r although thou see me here in the likeness of a spirit, yet think me to be one of those Familiares Lares that were rather pleasantly disposed then endued with any hurtful influence, as Hob Thrust, Robin Goodfellow and such like spirits (as they term them of the buttery) famozed in every old wives Chronicle for their mad merry pranks. Therefore sith my appearance to thee is in resemblance of a spirit, think that I am as pleasant a goblin as the rest, and will make thee as merry before I part, as ever Robin Goodfellow made the country wenches at their Cream bowls. With this he drew more near me and I starting back cried out: In nomine jesu, avoid Satan for Ghost thou art none, but a very di●el (for the souls of them which are departed) if the sacred principles of theology be true) never return into the world again till the general resurrection: for either are they play'st in heaven, from whence they come not to entangle themselves with other cares, but sit continually before the seat of the Lamb singing Alleluia to the highest, or else they are in hell: and this is a profound and certain Aphorism, Ab inferis nulla est redemptio: upon these conclusive premises depart from me Satan the resemblance of whom soever thou dost carry. At this pitching his staff down on the end, & crossing one leg over an other, he answered thus: why you whoreson dunce, think you to set Dick Tarlton Non plus with your Aphorisms? No, I have yet left one chapter of choplodgicke to tewslite you withal, that were you as good as George a Green I would not take the foil at your hands: and that is this, I perceive by your arguments your inward opinion, and by your wise discretion what pottage you love: I see no sooner a rispe at the house end or a Maypole before the door, but I cry there is, a paltry Alehowse: and as soon as I hear the principles of your religion, I can say, oh there is a Caluinist: what do you make heaven and hell Contraria immediata, so contrary, that there is no mean betwixt them, but that either a man's soul must in post hast go presently to God, or else with a whirlwind and a vengeance go to the devil? yes, yes my good brother, there is Quoddam tertium a third place that all our great grandmothers have talked of, that Dant hath so learnedly writ of, and that is Purgatory. What sir are we wiser than all our forefathers? and they not only feared that place in life, but found it after their death: or else was there much land and annual pensions given in vain to morrowmasse priests for dirges, trentals and such like decretals of devotion, whereby the souls in Purgatory were the sooner advanced into the quiet estate of heaven. Nay more, how many Popes & holy Bishops of Rome, whose Camnons' ancnot err, have taught us what this Purgatory is? And yet if thou wert so incredulous that thou wouldst neither believe our old beldames, nor the good Bishops: yet take Dick Tarlton once for thine Author, who is now come from Purgatory, and if any upstart Protestant deny, if thou hast no place of scripture ready to confirm it, say as Pythagoras scholars did (Ipse dixit) and to all bon companions ●t shall stand for a principle. I could not but smile at the mad merry doctrine of my friend Richard, and therefore taking heart at grass drawing more near him▪ I prayed him to tell me what Purgatory is, & what they be that are resident there: as one willing to do me such a favour, he sat him down and began thus.   

¶ Tarlton's description of Purgatory.  
AFter thy breath hath left thy body, and thy soul is set free from this vile prison of earth, where it hath been long enclosed, then doth it wander forward into a fa● broad way, where at the turning of a cross there are three passages, one on the right hand, and that is very narrow and leadeth unto heaven: The second on the left hand, is broad and fair, over a green vale, and that conducteth unto hell: now betwixt these is there a lane neither to broad nor to narrow, and that is the 〈◊〉 way to Purgatory: wherein after you have wandered a while, you come to a bridge, framed all of Needle points and over that must you pass bare footed, as the first penance for your foremost offences. Then sir to have a little ease after that sharp absolution, shall you come into a fair meadow, and that is all overgrown with ave maries and creeds, this is to put you in remembrance of our Lady's Psalter, which if you can say a hundredth & fifty times over before you pass the meadow, you escape passing over a whole field of hot burning ploughshares, that day and night lie glowing hot for such purposes: after these and a many more of other miseries, which I am by the law forbidden to utter, you come to purgatory gate, where for an entering penny, you have forty lashes with a whip as ill as ever were given in Bridewell: then are you admitted entrance. At the first you shall come into a very sumptuous hall, richly hanged with tapistry, so fine and so curious, that the most cutthroat Broker in England would take the worst of the hangings for a sufficient pawn: In this hall shall you see an infinite number of seats, form and seated like an amphitheatre: wherein are royally, nay more than royally placed all the Popes, except the first thirty after Christ, and they went presently to heaven: and the reason was, because Purgatory was then but a building, and not fully finished. In those seats I say the pope's sit triumphantly with their pontificalibus, and their triple crowns, but yet abiding pains of purgatory, aswell as the meanest in all the house, equally proportioned according to the measure of their sins: some for false wresting the scriptures, others for ambition, some for covetousness, gluttony, extortion, simony, wrath, pride, envy, many for sloth, and idleness: and some I can tell you have come thither for wenching matters, that's counted in Rome but a venial sin, and therefore three dirges and two tapers offered to the picture of old Pasquille, is sufficient to wipe away so small an offence. But amongst all the rest two of them made me to marvel at the strangeness of the punishment: The first was Boniface the fourth, and he sat in this order.  
He was richly attired in his pontificalibus, and somewhat more rich than the rest, but upon his head, in stead of his triple crown, he wore a dusty miller's cap: and whereas other Popes held in their right hand the keys of heaven, and in the left the sword of Paul, he held between both his hands a dirty malkin, such as Bakers sweep their Ovens withal, and right over his head was written this old adage in Latin: Ne suitor ultra crepidam.  
And because thou shalt know the reason why we was thus punished, mark this merry tale.   

The tale of Pope Boniface, and why he wore a Miller's cap, and a malkin in purgatory.  
THere dwelled sometime in the city of Rome a Baker, named Astasio, who for his honest behaviour was well accounted of amongst his neighbours, insomuch, that what ●se soever his bread was baked after, his loaves never passed the balance. This Astasio had sundry prentices and journeymen to do his business, for he was chief Baker to the pope's holiness: amongst whom there was one called Miles, who was a strong lusty lubber, and one that was as ripe conceited for knavery, as the Miller that ground their meal for théevery, & had as many good conditions, as his mistress had points of chastity, and she was thought a virtuous matron: for a Cardinal lay in her house, to instruct her with holy sentences, and where such blessed men lie, there can be no lechery. Well Miles was a mad wag, and when he had done his business, to exercise his wits would diverse times resort to some one or other of the cloister of Nuns, amongst these merry wenches, to put in practise the excellency of his prattle, he so behaved himself, that if higher fortune had not fallen him, the Nuns of Santa Maria had entreated their abbess to have made him their fac totum: but to his greater dignity, thus it fell out. It chanced that Pope Pius fell sick, and for that he knew Cardinals were ambitious, and would fly with Icarus whatsoever befall, to avoid all mutinies that might ensue after his death about the succession, of the Papacy: he called his Cardinals together, and charged them to elect none Pope, but he that could absolve these three questions.  

1 What kind of men those be, that GOD never made.  
2 What creatures those be, that in sight are Carnations, in smell Roses, in hearing Sirens, in touch Nettles, and in taste Wormwood.  
3 And what occupations take more pains about God than the Pope.   
Upon these the Cardinals were agreed and went home to their several lodging, leaving Pius well contented with their mutual consent, & resolved to die, sith he had so well determined of the succession of the papacy to be brief, as every dog hath his day, so the Pope had his date, for the next morning he died. And upon this there was a general mourning through all Room, the Cardinals wept, the Abbots howled, the Monks roared, the friars cried, the Nuns puled, the Courtesans lamented, the bells rang, and the tapers were lighted, that such a black Sanctus was not seen along time afore in Rome: well to be short, his ●unerals were solemnly kept, and his body carried from Castle Angelo to Saint Peter's Church and there entombed. After his death every one of the Cardinals aspiring to the papacy, pondered in his brain the meaning of these questions but they were not so good scholars that they could either divide, define, or distinguish upon them, especially Cardinal Montecelso that lay at the Baker's house, who along while had these questions hammering in his head, but to small purpose, for the more he sought the farther off he was, which grieved him full sore: for the day was come wherein they must give up their verdict, and the synod of the Cardinals appointed to meet Cardinal Montecelso ashamed to go, because he was so monstrous a dunce, knowing that Miles the bakers man was a fellow of a prompt wit, and withal so like the Cardinal, as no man possible could discern the one from the other, brought it so to pass, that he persuaded Miles to g● and hear the questions, and to sit in his robes amongst the rest of the Cardinals: promising, if he won the victory by his wit he would when he were Pope so labour, that he would make him a Cardinal. Miles that was ever malapert, and more saucy than honest, undertook the matter and bluntly over his bakers mealy Cassock for haste put on the Cardinal's habit, and went very solemnly to saint Peter's church: where the rest of the holy brotherhood sat, taking his place amongst them as Montecelso had directed him. When thus they were all gathered together, the eldest of the fraternity laid open unto them that now by the death of Pius the papacy stood seed vacant: yet by the good direction of his holiness in his life time to anoide further controversy in the Church, he had left a mean to know who should be next successor in the sea, and thereupon he propounded three questions, which began at the eldest, & so gradatim went downward: sundry men gave sundry verdicts, at last it came to Cardinal Montecelso, wh● was youngest, to yield his reason, which if it were not probable and plausible, the Synod must devise some other means to know the successor: for the questions were so dark that amongst the rest they were as inscrutable Aenigmaes. Well to Miles at last came the matter to be made manifest, who very demurely in his scarlet robes and his grave bennet, began thus: My Lords and fellow brethren in this dignity, now is the text fulfilled: The last shall be first and the first shall be last: For I that am youngest in years, am like to be eldest in judgement, and being last in degree, am like to be first in dignity. Therefore you foolish dunces thus to absolve these three questions.   

What kind of men be those that God never made.  
I tell you they be Popes, Cardinals, Abbots, Monks, and Priests: for n●ne of all these did God ever make: and thus I prove it. The Creator, both according to the principles of Philosophy and Theology, is greater th●n the Creature, and it is impossible that the maker should bec form or fashioned by the thing made; as a pot to make a Potter: is it not then as repugnant to reason that God should make a Priest, when the Priest every day in his mass maketh God? and so is he the creator and God the creature: therefore brethren the Priest is the man that God never made, because we ourselves know that the Priest i● God's maker. To this they all applauded and said: he had spoken as much as Pius meaut. Now quoth he to the second question.   

What creatures those be, that in sight are Carnations, in smell Roses, in hearing Sirens, in touching nettles, and in taste wormwood.  
Thus I answer: they be (my masters quoth he) these kind of cattle that we covet so much to keep, and these be women: for he that sees a gallant wench, which we Italians term Bona Roba, with a fa●e face flourished over with a vermilion blush, she seems to his eye as beautiful as a Caruation: and her breath that is as sweet and odoriferous as a Rose: he that listens to her words, shall find them as pleasant and melodious as the Siren, and as full of flattery as Circe's: so that he that will avoid three wiles, must with Ulysses tie himself to the mast, or else venture on three dangerous shelves: in touching they be nettles, for they sti●g to the quick: and in taste whosoever tries them, sh●l find them as bitter in the end as wormwood. When Miles had discoursed this, they thought Sphnix himself could not have yielded a better reason, and therefore our gentle man Baker went on to the third thus boldly: and now masters, quoth he, to the last.   

What occupations take more pains about God than the pope.  
Marry quoth Miles, there be three, the ploughman, the Miller and the baker: & thus I prove it: The ploughman he takes pains to ●…sse his field, to sow his corn, and in harvest with toil to reap, in winter to thrash it out with the sweat of his brows. Then it is conveyed from him to the Miller and he bestiers himself to set his stones in frame to grind it: next it is transported to the Baker, & he bolts it and sifts the bran from the flower, and with great pains makes it into afine Cake & bakes it, last it is brought to the Pope, and he when he is at mass says but hoc est corpus meum, and it is God: he spends but a little few waste words about it, whereas the other three labour long ere they bring it to perfection: therefore these three take more pains about God than the pope. One of the old Cardinals hearing this, wondering at his wit began to repeat over the names of the plouhgswaine the Miller and the baker: Miles hearing him name the Baker, took strait Pepper in the nose and starting up threw of his Cardinal's robes, standing inhiss dusty Cassock, swore I by cockesbread the Baker, and he that says to the contrary, here stand I Miles the Baker's man to have the proudest Cardinal of you all by the ears. The Cardinals all this while thinking it had been Monterelso and no● seeing it was Miles the Baker's man, to soothe up the matter and cleake their own ignorances made him Pope & called him in stead of Miles, Boniface: where he soon forgot being a Priest that ever he was a Clerk: in so much that on a day passing to Saint Peter's Church, his mayst. Astasio met him, and amongst the rest did his holiness great reverence, but Miles now that was Pope, could not look so low as a poor baker, which his master espying, as he came by said that the Pope might hear. Non fuit sic à principio: No Knave quoth he, but the shalt hear sang anon; Sic erit in secula seculorum Amen. Thus went the Baker's man in solemn porcession to Saint Peter's church, and there after his installment hard mass, & so departed home to Castle Angelo. And for that he was advanced from from a Baker's trough to the papacy, and after grew so proud and insolent, that he would not know his old master: he sits in a Miller's dusty Cap and a Bakers malking: to signify, the former pride of his life.  
Next him sat Hildebrand, & he held a red Hearing in his hand, because he made lent: and one Pope sat with a smock sleeve about his neck, and that was he that made the imbering weeks; in honore of his fair and beautiful courtesan Imbra.  
A little beyond sat Alexander, who was forest to make clean rusty Armour, that like Sisyphus stone had no end: for as fast as he scoured, the canker still fretted that he did: In caucasum saxum volucre: & this was because he was a better soldier than a Scholar. Hard by him was julius, that upon the bridge threw S. Peter's keys into Tiber, & took him to the sword of Paul: infinite other sundry offences: but such a multitude were plangd for wenching, that of them all there was not one scaped free for the fault. But Urban the second, that was in stalled Pope in the morning and was poisoned before dinner, and yet the question, whether, if he had lived that night, his lemon and he had not bidden penance in purgatory for their sins. Thus when I saw all these stately fellows, as I was ready to go out of the hall, I spied sitting in a corner a bare faced youth, well featured, of a lively countenance, and a sweet look, in Poops attire: but on her head in stead of a mitre she had a kercher, and in her hand a distaff: I thought it had been Hercules that was found playing the wanton so with Ompha●e, or Sardanapalus amongst his Courtesans. But at last I spied it was a Pope, or had been a Pope: But whether man or woman, or what it was I sold not tell, till I spied written over his head in great Characters this style:  
Papa, Pater, Parens Patriae, Prope Portas Petri, Pauli, parvum Peperit Puerum.  
Then I perceived it was Pope joane that honest woman, that as she went a procession through the Lateran was brought to bed in the streets. I smiled at her attire, and left her to her punishment. Passing from thence I went into a lower Room, and there were all kings and princes, and men of name, which for that I might slander their royal titles, I omit with silence. But thus they were all punished according to their offences, no more spared for their wealth then the poor for their poverty; unless they died highly in the pope's favour; and perhaps there was some indulgence to mitigate their punishment. I left them, and anon I came into a base room all full of Monks and Friars, what sins I saw there figured fo●th I am ashamed to rehearse, only Fri●r Onion the holy Confessor of Florence, he sat there naked, all anointed with huny and miserably tormented with wasps. The cause of his punishment I learned to be this.   

The tale of Friar Onion, why in purgatory he was tormented with wasps.  
THere dwelled a widow in Florence of good parentage, & large possessions, more beautiful than she was wealthy, and yet she was the richest widow in all Florence, her name was Lisetta, the only fault that was found in her was, that her beauty was more than her wit, and that such a self-love of her excellency had made her overween herself, that she thought none fit to be her husband in all Forence. Thus though she were looked at for her outward perfection, yet was she laughde at for her inward follies. Well howsoever others censured of her, she thought her penny better silver than the rest, and would so strive to excel other Gentlewomen in the niceness of gesture, that ●ft-times she marred all: in so much that her coy quaintness was a byword in the city. Every week forsooth, because she would seem as virtuous as she was fair, she devoutly went to Friar Onion, to be confessed of her sins: the Priest, who was a lusty lubber, and a tall swain, and nursed up lust with idleness; began to look upon her more narrowly, and to take a particular view of her perfections; with that entering with a piercing insight into her self-love; thought, that she might quickly be overreached in her own conceits: for he thought, that if the wisest women were won with fair praises, and large promises, it were more eas●e to entrap her with the discourse of her excellency. Therefore he laid his plot thus: the next time Lis●tta came to shrift, after she had made her confession, and had received absolution for her sins, Friar Onion looking earnestly upon her, fetched a far sigh and said: ah Madam! if you knew as much as I know; as you are the fairest, so you would think yourself the happiest of all women that are alive. And why sir I pray you, quoth Lisetta? ah said friar Onion: it is such a secret as may not be revealed: for if I should disclose it to you, and you by any means make it manifest, there were no way with me but a most miserable death. Lisetta, as all women be desirous of novelty, was so greedy to hear what good was toward her, that she made a thousand protestations, and uttered a thousand oaths, never to bewray what her ghostly father should tell her in secret. Then Madam, quoth Friar Onion, with a grave and a demure countenance, know your beauty is so excellent, and your perfection so far beyond the common course of all other women, that not only all men that see you, admire you as a miracle: but the very Angels in heaven are enamoured of your proportion. The Angels, quoth she, is that possible? The angels, madam, and not the meanest, but the most beautiful of all the rest: for the Angel Gabriel is so far in love with you, that the other night he appeared unto me, and charged me to do his earnest commendations unto you, with promise, that if he might be assured of your secrecy, he would at convenient times visit you, and entertain you with such love as befitteth such holy spirits.  
This tale so set a fire Lisetta, that she not only thanked Friar Onion for his commendations; but counted herself the most fortunate of all women, that she was beloved of so blessed a Saint: & therefore when and where it pleased him, he should be entertained with as honourable secrecy, as a poor dame of her calling might afford. Friar Onion seeing this gear would work, prosecuted his purpose then subtly: he presently fell down on his knees before her, and desired, that for such happy news as he had brought, she would grant him a boon. Lisetta liberal now to perform any demand, bade him ask. Then he began thus: Madam, quoth he, for that the Angel Gabriel is a spirit, and his brightness such, as no mortal eye can suffer, and therefore must come unto you in some human shape, I pray you vouchsafe, that my body may be the receptacle for him, that while he putteth on my carcase, my soul may enjoy the sight and pleasures of paradise: so shall you not hinder yourself, and do me an unspeakable benefit. Lisetta seeing Friar Onion was a lusty tall fellow, willing in what she might, to pleasure him, granted his request very willingly: whereupon it was concluded, that she should leave the door open, and about midnight the Angel Gabriel should come to visit her. Upon this resolution home went Lisetta, as merry as a pie, tricking up her bedchamber with all bravery, and rich perfumes for the entertainment of her paramour. And, Friar Onion, as busy as a be, was making his wings and his trinkets ready to play the Angel: well, he dealt so, that he agreed with an old pander that dwelled opposite to the house, and there made himself ready, and at the hour appointed went to Lisetta: where he found the door open, and so entered up till he came to her bedchamber; where she sat expecting his coming: assoon as she saw him with his glorious wings and his white robes, she rose, and fell at his feet: but he lovingly took her up, imbracst her, kissed her, and pointed to the bed, whether the Angel went after he had laid apart his habiliments, and Lisetta followed with as much speed as might be: Caetera quis nescit. Early before break of the day, Gabriel took his leave of his Lisetta, and went to his lodging, leaving her the proudest woman in the world, that she was beloved of an Angel. Friar Onion he got him to his cell, and there took up his broken sleep he had lost till nine of the clock, that he went into his Oratory: where he had not sitten long, but Lisetta in as great bravery as might, came to the church, and then offered up in greater devotion a burning taper to the Angel Gabriel; afterwards her orisons done she came to friar Onion, who after some conference demanded her of her new lover, whom she highly commended, and he again gave her great thanks, that she vouchsafed him to be the receptacle of so holy a Saint: for all the while his body was with her, his soul did taste the joys of paradise. These two thus agreed, it so fell out that sundry times as occasion & opportunity would give leave, the Angel Gabriel visited Lisetta: The Friar thus frolic in this conceited content was thwarted by fortune on this manner: Lisetta waxing very proud with the remembrance of her new lover, was so coy and disdainful, as she thought never a dame in Florence fit for her company: insomuch that many wondered why she grew so insolent. ●ut the more they marveled, the more she was malapert, conceiving such abundance of self-love within her stomach, that she was with child till she had uttered her mind to some of her gossips: on a day sitting with one in whom she had most affiance, she began to require secrecy, and she would unfold unto her a thing not only strange but of great import. Her gossip as the custom is, began to blame those wives whose secrets lay at their tongue's end, and said, she was never touched with any stain of her tongue: and therefore what soever she told her, should be buried under foot and go no further. Upon this Lysetta began to rehearse unto her from point to point, the whole discourse of the Angel Gabriel, how he was in love with her, and how sundry nights he lay with her, and many more matters which he told her of the joys of Paradise. Her gossip being a wily wench kept her counter. āc● very demurely, commending the excellency of her beauty, that did not only amaze men, but drew even Angels to be ●amoured of her: promising to be as secret in this matter as herself. She thought the time long till they might break off talk, and therefore assoon as she could find opportunity, she took her leave, and ●ted her homeward: but to her house she could not go, till thee had met with two or three of her gossips; to whom in a great laughter she unfolded what madam Lysetta had told her, how she was beloved of the Angel Gabriel, and how sundry nights he lay with her, and told her of the joys of Paradise. This was work enough for nine days, for the wonder of Madam lisetta's barn went through all Florence: so that at last it came to the ears of lisetta's friends, who grieved that such a clamour should be raised of their kinswoman: knowing her folly, thought to watch near, but they would take the Angel Gabriel and clip his wings from flying. Well secret they kept it, and made as though they had not hard of it, yet kept they such diligent watch, that they knew the night when the Angel would descend to visit Lisetta: whereupon they beset the house round, and assoon as Friar Onion was in, & had put off his wings, & was gone to bed, the rushing in of the watch wakened him from his rest, & that with such a vengeance, that trusting more to his feet then to his feathers, he left madam Lisetta amazed at the noise: and he himself was so sharply beset and so near taken, that he was feign to leap out of a high garret window, and so almost break his neck, into a little narrow lane. Well his best joint scaped, but he was sore bruised: yet fear made him forget his fall, that a way he ran to a poor man's house where he saw light, and t●ere go● in, making an excuse how he had fallen among thieves; and so desired lodging.  
The man having heard talk of the Angel Grabriell, knowing very well Friar Onion that knew not him, let him have lodging very willingly, but all this while that he escaped, were lisetta's friends seeking for the saint, that so tenderly loved their kinswoman: but they could nor find him, and to heaven he was not flown, for they ha● found his wings: sorry they were that Gabriel had missed them. But they chid hard, and rebuked the folly of lisetta's self-love, that was not only so credulous, but such a blab as to reveal her own secrets: it was late, and because they had missed of their purpose they departed, leaving Lisetta a sorrowful woman, that she was so deceived by the Angel Gabriel. Well night passed, and the morning came, & this poor man friar Onions host told him, that he knew not ●ow to shift him: for there was that day a great search for one Friar Onion that had escaped naked from lisetta's house, and who so kept him in secret should have his ears nailed on the pillory: at this the Friar started and said: alas friend I am the man: and if by any means thou caused convey me to the Dortor of our Friory, I will give thee forty Duc●ats: if you will, quoth his host follow my counsatle, fear● not, I will convey you thither safe and unknown, and thus. This day there is great she w●s made before the Duke of Florence, and strange sights to be seen, and diverse wild men disguised in strange attire are brought into the market place: now I will dress you in some strange order, and with a mask over your face, lead you amongst the rest, and when the show is done, carrying you as though. I should carry you home, I will inveigh you into the Dortor backside secret and unknown. Although this seemed hard to the friar, yet of two evils the least was to be chosen, and he consented to suffer what the host would devise. Whereupon he that was of a pleasant conceit used him thus: he anointed him over with barm mixed with honey, and stuck him full of feathers, and tying him by the neck with a chain, put a visor on his face, and on either side tied a great ban Dog, in this come equipage marched this poor man with the Friar. He was no sooner come into the open street, but the people having never seen such a sight before in Florence, did not only wonder at the strangeness of his dressing; but marveled what this novelty should mean: whereupon an infinite number not only of the common sort, but of the gravest citizens followed, to see what should be the end of this wonder.  
With a solemn pace marched his keeper, till he came to the market place, where tying him to a great pillar that stood there, he then let make in all places of the city solemn proclamation, that who so would see the Angel Gabriel, should presently come to the market place, and behold him there in that amorous dignity that he did usually visit the Dames of Florence: at this proclamation there was a general concourse of people, especially of the better sort that had hard of lisetta's loves: so that the duke himself came thither, and amongst the rest lisetta's kinsmen. When all the market place was full of people, the host pulled the visor from the Friar's face: at which the people gave a great shout, clapping their hands, and crying, the Angel Gabriel, the Angel Gabriel, he that comes from heaven, to make us wear● horns. I need not I hope, entreat you to believe, that poor Friar Onion was heavily perplexed, especially when the day grew hot, he naked and anointed with honey, so that all the wasps in the city, as it were by a miracle, left the Grocer's shops, and came to visit the Friar, because his skin was so sweet: but alas to the poor man's pains, that he was almost st●ng to death. divers of his ●ouent came thither to see the strange apparition of the Angel, who when they saw he was Friar Onion: then they covered their shaven crowns with their cools, and went home with a flea in their ears. Thus all day stood the poor Friar wondered at of all the people of Florence, and tormented with wasps, and at night fetched home to the Dortor by some of his brothers: he was clapped in prison, where for sorrow poor Gabriel died: and because he did so dishonour the other Friars, he bides this torment in purgatory.  
The discourse of the Friar thus past, I viewed them all that were Churchmen: and after went into a lower room, where there was a medley of all manner 〈◊〉 people of all trades, sciences, and occupations, assigned to such sundry torments, as man's eye would almost surfeit with the variety of objects, even the very broom men were there for robbing of the broom closes between Barking and London. And hard by them was there a place empty form thus: It was made like the shape of Tyburn threesquare, and all painted about with halters, and hard by stood two tall fellows with carters whips so stearnely looking, as if with every lash they would cut a man to the bones: there was written over the place a great roman B. I could not learn for whom this torment was provided, for the so many men, so many censures: some said it was for one Boniface which should be Pope, and should prove a great persecutor: others, that Bonner should be brought from his place among the prelate's, and be whipped there for breeching of Bartlet green naked in his garden: but the most voices went, that it was for Bul the hangman, because at his whipping in london the carters showed him too much favour. Well for whomsoever it is, God bless me from it, for he is like to be well belaboured with two lusty knaves. Looking still about, I saw three men seated as it were in thrones higher than the rest, with three shields hanging by them, having imprese and mottoes, I stayed and gazed my fill upon them: for they had no punishment, but were as prisoners detained in purgatory, but with a pre-eminence; for which soever of the Ghosts passed by gave them a knee with a reverence. I marveled what they should be, and one told me it was the three degrees of Cuckolds; with that I smiled, and looked more narrowly upon them, I spied written over the firsts head this short sentence, One and One. Over the second, None and one: over the third One and none. This was to me a dark Aenigma, that I wished some Sphinx to unfold the secret, at last on● stepped to me and told me the whole matter thus.   

The tale of the three Cuckolds, of their imprese and mottoes.  
THese three men, my friend quoth the ghost, when they lived were three famous men, and yet Cuckolds, as by their attire thou mayest perceive: but different in degree, nature and condition. He which sits highest, over whose head thou seest is written, One and One, had a beautiful dame to his wife, fair and well featured; yet a great deal more full of beauty then of honesty: but howsoever qualified, a good wench she was, and one that was not such a niggard but she could keep a corner for a friend: to be brief, she would bear a man false at tables, and her husband that loved Irish well, thought it no ill trick at tables to bear a man too many: he saw it and knew very well, that his wife loved another as well as himself: yet he loved her so, that he would not discontent her, but suffered her to have her longing and to feed her own fancy, and like a wittold winked at it, and therefore worthy to wear the horn. Thus while he lived the dishonour of his life was shame enough for his lewdness, & now after his death because he was so kind a man, they have placed him there without any punishment, because it was penance enough to have his conscience pricked with a restless sting of bawdry. And here they have made him a gentleman, and in his Scutcheon have given him the Ram rampant, with a mighty pair of horns hanging over his eyes: to signify, if it be rightly emblasde, that he had such a great head, that looking through his horns he did see and not see, shocking on with heavy palms as belwether to the rest, his Motto is stolen out of Tully: Non solum pro nobis. Meaning, that as we are not borne for ourselves, but for our Country, so he did not marry a wife for himself, but for his neighbours: this was the kind opinion of this grave wittold.  
The second, over whose head is written, None & One, was a man of an honest and virtuous disposition, who having a fair wife, that though she could not tread right, yet wrincht her shoe inward; that was as secret as she was false; and though she could not live Cast yet she lived Caute: he never suspected her; but as he was honestly minded towards her, and kept himself to the wife of his bosom, so measured her foot after his own last, and thought none in the world to have a more chaste wife, although indeed none had a more lascivious wanton. This poor man was none in his own conceit, yet was one indeed: and therefore is he placed here without any torture: for that it is plague enough for him that he had a whore to his wife. He is likewise made a gentleman and gives Arms the Goat, which by imblasure signifies, that as the Goat carries his horns behind, so having horns because they were not apparent on his forehead, thought he had none, and yet carried a fair pair backward like the Goat, his Motto is: Crede quod habes & Habes. Meaning, that a man's content stands as his believing is; so that if a man in his own conscience thinks he hath a fair wife, it sufficeth, what soever proof makes manifest to others.  
The third, over whose head is written, One and None, is a man that hath a woman of surpassing beauty to his wife, excellent and rare in properties, and every way as virtuous in honest perfection, a woman as fair as Heelen and as chaste as Lucrece: yet forsooth, because his wife is more fair than the common sort, and therefore more gazed on for that wheresoever she goes, many men's eyes wait upon her and divers lascivious youth attempt to frequent her company; yet she that is wholly resolved upon virtue hath the tortue is under her feet and god's not abroad; but keeping home avoids all occasions of dishonour: yet for all these manifest instances of her honesty, the eye of her husband fired with suspicion so inflames his heart with jealousy, as there is none looks on his wife, but he thinks he comes to court her, & she glances her ei● on none but strait she loves him: if she smile, it is to think how her love & she shall meet; if she lower, it is because she hath not seen him to day: thus living doth he lead a hellish life in the labyrinth of jealousy, & therefore is he placed here without punishment in Purgatory, because there can be no greater torment then to be plagued with the restless sting of jealousy. He is as the rest are, made a gentleman, his arms the Ass, with a marvelous pair of long & large ears. The emblason this, that as the Ass for the length of his ears thinks them to be horns, & yet indeed are but a plain pair of ears: so he like an Ass because he hath a fair wife, thinks that per Consequens he must be a Cuckold, when indeed he is none, and so supposeth his ears to be horns: his Motto is, Ne mulieri credas, ne mortus quidem. Meaning, that what fair show soever a woman doth hear of honesty, yet there is no credit to be given unto her coyness: but he resolves with the crew of the yellow hosde companions, that Mulier, howsoever it be spoken or understood, is a word of unconstancy: therefore though he hath no horns, because his wife is too honest, yet like an Ass for his jealousy, he shall have a long pair of ears whiles he lives.  
Thus was the order of these Cuckolds discoursed unto me, which assoon as I heard I went on further to spy any worth the noting, much I saw that were frivolous to rehearse, as divers women that were hanged up by the tongues for scolding, and especially one Butchers wife of Sudbury, who was so famous for that Art (if we● may term it a science) that after her death, she was chronicled amongst the successive scolds her neighbours for an Archgossip in that faculty: for her husband being a poor painful man that lived by his daily labour, came home every night and brought her duly and dutifully ●is groat, which could not content h●r, but she would in brave terms abuse him, and call him rascal and slave; but above all, prickelowse, which he could not able: wherefore having often forbade her, and seeing she would take no warning: on a day took heart at grass, and belabourd her well in a cudgel: but all would not suffice: the more he beat her, the more she called him prickelowse. Seeing stripes would not prevail, he threatened to cut out her tongue: it is no matter for that knave quoth she yet shall the stump call thee pricklowse: at this answers the poor Butcher was so mad, that taking a rope & tying it abo●t her middle, having a well in his yard, and thereunto he let her down into the well, and threatened to drown her: ●ush all would not prevail, but she cried more vehemently: wherefore he ducked her over head and ears, and then when her tongue could not wag, she heaved her hands above water, and knack with her two nails of her thumbs: then seeing nothing would prevail but death, he drew her up & left her to her villainy: she above 〈◊〉 rest was tormented. A little below her I saw a Cook that was a mad merry fellow, and he sat demurely with a Crane's leg in his mouth, having no other punishment, at this I smiled, and asked the cause, and it was told me thus.   

The tale of the Cook, and why he sat in Purgatory with a Crane's leg in his mouth.  
THere dwelled in Venice a Gentleman called Signior Bartolo, who being one of the Consil adorie, and greatly experienced in the civil law, was much frequented of sundry suitors, amongst the rest there was a gentleman his neighbour, that by fortune had caught some eight or ten Cranes, a fowl in high esteem in that City: these as a thing of great price he bestowed on Signior Bartolo, who accepted them with that gratefulness, that so good and bountiful a gift merited. Proud forsooth of this present he fed them up in one of his yards, looking with great care to them, because the Venetians hold them so rare. On a day desirous to make his neighbour's partakers of his dainties, ●e bad divers of them to Supper, and commanded his Cook to provide good cheer, and amongst the rest, charged him to kill a Crane, and to see that it were excellently well roasted. The Cook, whos● name was Stephano, made all things in a readiness for Supper, and when the time was convenient, laid the Crane to the fire. Now sir this Stephano was a fellow's that was somewhat amorous, and excellent at courting of a Country wench; in somuch that he was the chief gallant of all the parish for dancing of a Lincolnshire hornpipe in the Churchyard on sundays: being thus well qualified, he was generally loved of all the girls thereabout, and especially of one in the town, whom he had so long dallied withal, that the maid fell sick, and her diseas● was thought to be a Timpany with two heels: well howsoever she was sped, and Stephano had done the deed. This maid hearing what a great feast should be at signior Bartoloes house, hied her thither, not only to see th● good cheer: but that she must feed her eye with the sight of her Stephano, who now was ruffling and sweeting in the kitchen; she made an excuse and came in for fire, but in an unlucky time for the poor Cook: for she no sooner saw the Crane but she longed for a leg, and that so sore, that there was nothing but that or death: whereupon she called Stephano to her, and told him that she must needs have a leg of the Crane: for she so deeply longed for it, that if she had it not, it were able both to cast her away and that she went withal. Although poor Stephano alledgde many excuses, as the displeasure of his Master, and the fear of the loss of his service: yet no reason could prevail with her, who was without reason: and therefore what for love he bore her, and for dread of discredit that might ensue, if for want of her longing she should fall to travel, he ventured a joint, and when the Crane was enough cut her off a leg. His wench thus satisfied went home: And Supper time grew on, for all the guests were come, and presently because it was somewhat late, sat down: where they were served very bountifully, at last the dainties the Crane forsooth, was brought up, and signor Bartolo commanded the Carver to trunk her, which when he had done, she was set upon the table: the gentleman of the house fell to distributing to his guests, and at last missed a leg, with that looking about he called the Carver, and asked him where the other leg was: Sir quoth he, your Mastership hath all the Cook sent up: thenquoth Bartolo go to the Cook, & ask him where the other leg is: the Carver went down and did his masters command; the Cook thinking to face out the matter, began to smile: why quoth he, we may see Cranes are dainty in this Country, when gentlemen cannot tell how many legs they have? go tell my Master I sent him up as many legs as she had. The fellow brought this news to his Master, who in a great chafe called for the Cook, and asked of him how many legs a Crane had: marry sir quoth he, one: why malapert villeine quoth Bartolo, mockest thou me before all these gentlemen? not I sir quoth the Cook: For I am sure I have dressed many in my life: & hitherto yet I never saw a Crane have but one leg. With this answer Bartolo was thoroughly inflamed with choler, but that he would show himself to be patiented amongst his neighbours, he suppressed his anger with this mild reply: Either, gentlemen, you may think I or my Cook is drunk, that hold a dispute about a Crane's leg: but for that this night I will not be impatient, I pass it over: but to morrow morning all as you are here, I humbly request you to take so much pains as to rise betimes, and to be judges between me and my man, whether Cranes have two legs or no: for I have eleven Cranes more, and we will early go into the yard where they feed: and this shall be the wager between my man and me, if they have but one leg, I will give him twenty ducats and a suit of Satin: if they have two, he shall have twenty blows with a cudgel, & I will turn him quite out of service: with this motion the Cook seemed very well contented, that all the guests smiled to see poor Stephano so obstinate: upon this matter they began to descant and fell into pleasant chat, and so passed away the supper time: at last, although loath to departed, yet every man departed with great thanks to signor Bartolo for their good cheer, promising, very early in the morning to be with him. Where we leave them, and again to the Cook, who provided all his trinkets in a readiness, to trudge away with bag and baggage the next morning: for he knew his matter was nought; thus with a heavy heart he passed away the night, and in the morning fell in a slumber: but he had not long lain in his dream, but Bartolo accompanied with his neighbours knocked at his man's chamber door, and bade him rise, that they might end the quarrel: poor Stephano started up and with a heavy cheer coming out of his chamber, gave his master and the rest the Bon joure: Come sirrah quoth his master, here are the gentlemen my neighbours are come to be equal censors of our controversy: hold, take the key of the yard, & open you the door, & then let us see how many legs a Crane hath: the Cook took the key & very easily opened the door, and entered in, and all the Cranes, because it was so early, were at strud, as their custom is generally all stood upon one leg, and held the other under their wing. Stephano seeing the advantage not willing to let so fair a ball fall to the ground, 〈◊〉 himself: now sir (quoth he) I hope yourself & the rest of the gentlemen will confess I have won the wager: for you see here is never a Crane that hath more than one leg. At this seeing how nimble he was to take the advantage, they all laughed: Truth sir quoth his Master, they stand now on one leg, but strait you shall see me make them all have two: with that Signior Bartolo lifting up his hand cried, So ho; and with that the Cranes let down their legs, and every one stood upon two: how now you knave quoth his Master, how many legs hath a Crane? hath she not two? yes marry sir quoth he, and so would your other Crane have had, if you had done this: for if your worship when you had seen the Crane in the platter had but one leg, had as loud as you do now, cried, So ho, why then she would have had two legs as well as these: At this jest, Signior Bartolo fell into such a laughing and all his guests with him, that he laughed away choler, and admitted 〈◊〉 ●an into his wonted favour: whereupon Stephano told them the whole discourse, what happened between him and his wench, and upon this merrily they went all to breakfast. Now Sir, although this fault was forgiven: yet because he died not in favour with the Priest of the Parish, he was appointed for stealing the Crane's leg to stand in Purgatory with a leg in his mouth for a certain season.  
After I had heard this discourse of the Cook, I went on further to see if I could perceive any other such jests as might make me merry in so melancholic a place, at last, as I cast mine eye aside, I saw where a poor Uickar sat with a Coal in his mouth, I asked the reason why he was appointed to such punishment, and it was answered me thus.   

The tale of the Vicar of Bergamo, and why he sits with a coal in his mouth in purgatory.  
THere dwelled sometime in Bergamo a vicar that was well-beloved in the town, for that he was a boon companion, and would not stick to play at trump all day with his parishioners for a pot or two of Als, a fair reader he was, and pleased the people well, marry for his learning that was little, and tongues he had no more than were in his mouth: neither would he trouble himself with the knowledge of many languages, but applied his idle time upon good fellowship. It chanced that his score growing very great, and much chalk upon the post, his hostess wanting money to pay the Maltman, waxed hasty with the vicar for her debt, he being then bare of pence, because his quarterage was not come in, told her she could not have it as yet, whereupon they grew to words, and from words ●lowes, for mass Uickar went away with a broken ●ead, which driude him into such a choler that he sought all means how to revenge, and he laid his plot thus. Every sunday morning afore mass all the youth of the ●arish did accustom to come to the Alehouse to eat hot puddings, which was great profit to the goodwife: now to prevent her of this commodity, the vicar spoke against it, and forbade it openly: yet it was not so deeply inveighed against, but that diverse Sundays they would make a steal thither to breakfast: and one Sundaye amongst the rest, the whole crew being gathered together, notice was given to the vicar: whereupon he hied him thither, and sound them all hard at it by the teeth: when they saw mass vicar come in, every man rose up and ran away to shift for himself, the hostess she whipped in with her puddings; so that there was none left in the house but Master vicar: who spying a dozen of lusty large black puddings hanged in the Chimney, whip them into his wide sleeve, & went his way: he was no sooner gone, but the goodwife coming out missed her puddings, and little suspected the Uickar, but thought some of her guests had carried them away: whereupon she told it to her husband, who let the matter pass lightly, and wished his wife to make her hastily ready, that they might go to mass: on goes she with her holiday partlet, and spoonging herself up, went with her husband to Church, and came just to the service: well master Uickar who was in a great chafe, mumbled up his matins, and after service was done very stoutly got him into the pulpit, and began to fall to his collation, his text was upon the Gospel for that day, which he so coursde and can●asde over that he fell at last to talk of the breakfast: oh neighbours quoth he, as I came this day to Churchward, I came into a house, nay into an Alehouse, where I found a crew at breakfast before Mass, at a bloody breakfast, a black breakfast, yea neighbours the devils breakfast; and with that he threw his arms about him with such violence, that his wide sleeve untied, the puddings fellout, and hit an old wife on the head that she fell over again: the hostess seeing her dozen of puddings that she missed, cried out to her husband: oh man, quoth she, there's the dozen of Puddings that were gone out of the Chimney; hie thee lest they be gone: at this there was such a laughing, and such a rumour, that the poor Uickar was feign to leave of his collation, and come down to answer what the Alewife objected against him: but he was so well-beloved in the parish, that the Alewife was punished, and her Sunday breakfasts put down by a common consent of the Churchwardens. The Uickar thus well revenged of the Alewife, endeavoured how to make amends to his parish, and therefore casting in his head how he might bring it to pass; one day as he traveled towards Pisa he met a stranger, who had certain ●eathers in his hand of a bird called Apis Indica, which were long and large, of the colour of gold, and were so bright as scarce one could look against them: such before were never seen in Italy. Mass Uickar assoon as ●ee saw these, had a reach in his head, and jumped with the travailer to buy one, a prize was pitched for thirty julios, and Mass Uickar paid it: having this, home he came, and bought a case of crimson Velvet embroidered with gold, to put his feather in, keeping it with great curiosity and secrecy, making report that he had one of the richest relics in the world, and promising upon Candlemas day next to show it: whereupon it was not only blazed abroad throughout the town, but in all the villages and hamlets adjoining, that both old and young prepared themselves to see this holy relic. Two of the crew, who were brothers at the breakfast of Puddings, hearing these news sought how to be even with master Uickar: and therefore brought it so to pass by a wench of the house where the Uickar lay, that they might see the holy relic; she brought them to the chamber and the box wherein the case lay in perfume, the fellow looking in, and seeing a feather, neither respecting reason, nor religion, took it out and put it in his bosom, and filled the case full of charcoals that lay by, and so putting the case into the box, kissed the wench and went his way. Service time being come, master vicar runs up for his box, claps it under his arm, and away he goes to Church: and for that it was Candlemas day a high day, he said and song a very solemn Mass; and that being done, seeing such a multitude of people, he got him with a great grace into the pulpit, and began his text, which after he had rattled over a little, he told them what sundry relics were left to the Church for the benefit of the people: oh my masters and good friends quoth he, parishioners and neighbours: You see that every city here about, nay through the whole world, hath some holy relic or other, as a blessing belonging to their corporation: but our poor● town of Bergamo hath had none: But now God hath considered of your estate, and hath sent you a richer and more holy than all the rest. Some town, quoth he, hath a piece of the cross, or of the nails, or a piece of the spoong, that recht Christ Vinegar; at Room there is the spear that pierced his side; at Venice the Chawbone of saint Mark, good for the falling evil; at Vienna the tooth of S. Appolym wholesome for the toothache; at Pysa the hoof of Saint Loy●s horse that healeth such kind of cattle; for the Swine Saint Anthony's bell; for the pos●, Saint Dunston's tongues; for the Squ●sey, Saint Martin's trough; for the eye sight Saint Winifrids' girdle; for the 〈◊〉 Saint Asaphs Beads, and a thousand more, which are now needless to rehearse: but good people, I have here for your comfort one of the feathers; yea one of those holy and glorious feathers, that the Angel Gabriel wore when he said ave Maria to the mother of Christ: old● wives, and aged men, yea rich and poor kneel down, and with joy behold so great a miracle; with that they all fell upon their knees, and he pulled forth his box, and drew forth the case, which when he hard rattle, he marveled: but when he put his hand in, and found nothing but coals, his heart was cold in his belly, and he sweat for woe: yet having a knavish and a ready wit, he suddenly and upon the present shifted it thus. Good people, quoth he, I have missed of my box, and have left the wing of the Angel Gabriel behind me: but I have here a relic no less precious than that, which I thought not to sh●w you before Easter day, and these be the coals that Saint Laurence the holy Martyr was broiled with, and with that he drew the Charcoal out of his poke: these parishioners quoth he, even the very mark that is made with these, is good against all evil spirits, against blasting and witchcraft; and therefore seeing it is the will of God I should show you these first, I will come down and mark you all with the holy relic of Saint Laurence; so he s●ept down out of the pulpit, and crossed them all to his great prof●t, and their content: for which cause in that ●e mocked the people, he is appointed to stand 〈◊〉 purgatory with a coal in his mouth.  
The vickars tale of Bergamo being ended, I went further, and presently I espied a little door, whereout issued a most fearful noise tempered with such far fetched sighs and grievous shrieks, that it was a sound mu●h to be pitied: the smallness of the voice discovered that they were women. Whereupon I pressed more n●re the door, and looked in at a little chink, and there I might see a company of beautiful women of all ages pitifully tormented, as sitting in a place full of smoke and stinking savours, and bitten continually about the hearts with scorpions: in all there were not above three of them, and yet they uttered as grievous laments as though there had been a thousand. I demanded why these were punished above the rest; they said, they were such as died maids and kept their virginity without spots, that hated men; and for that they were so hard hearted, they were adjudged to that sharp punishment. Strait as I cast mine eye up, I spied in a blind corner where a Painter sat, having the picture of a rood hung before him, and every time he looked upon it, he had three bastanadoes over the shoulders with a belroape, as of the rest, so I inquired the cause of this, and it was discoursed to me thus.   

The tale of the Painter of Doncaster, and why in purgatory he was beaten with a Belroape.  
I Know you are not ignorant, how in king Edward the sixt's days all popery and superstition was banished, and thè light of the Gospel pulled from under the Bushel where it was covered, and to the sight and comfort of all set upon a hill: so that all his relics were abolished, and his idols pulled down, and the Church as near as they could, cleansed from the ●regs of such an Antichrist: whereupon the Painters that lived with such ●rash, as trimming of shrines and roods, altars and Saints, and the carvers that made such images, were feign with Alexander the Coppersmith to cry out against Paul and his doctrine, having so little work that they almost forgot their occupation. ●nt when for the sins of this land, and wickedness of the people, the Lord took away their good king, and deprived them of the sweet Manna of the Gospel, and sent them again Antichrist with all his traditions, Queen Marie lawful successor in the kingdom; made proclamation, that all those roods which were pulled down, should be set up again in every Church. Amongst the rest, the Church of Doncaster in Yorkshire, desiring to be one of the foremost, to signify their obedience and devotion, in all hast sent for the Painter to make them a rood, and agreed upon the price. Whereupon he went about his work, but for that his hand had been out of use by the space of six years, he had forgot the lineaments of the visage, and the other wonted proportion, that he made it very hard favoured; yet as every man's work seems well to himself, he went forward withal and set it up on a saturday at night on the Roodloft: on sunday at mass there was old ringing of Bells, and old and young came to church to see the new rood, which was so ill favoured, that all the parish misliked it, & the children they cried and were afraid of it: upon this they fell in great displeasure with the painter, & when monday came, and he was with the cheese of the parish for his money, they denied flatly to pay him any, because his work was so ill wrought. He upon that called them before the mayor of the town, who was a man that favoured king Cowards religion, as far as he durst, & to him the painter made his complaint, that the parishioners now that he had made their rood, would not pay him his money: the Mayor demanded of them why they denied him payment: they answered, for that he had like a bungler made Christ so hard favoured, that it was not only unfit to stand in any church, but their children were afraid to look on it: so that every way it should greatly hinder devotion. But yet quoth the mayor, the poor man hath done his goodwill, you must consider his hand hath b●n long out of use, & therefore there is no reason though his cunning hath failed him, but you should pay him his money: well sir quoth they, at your request we will give him what our bargain was: but we must buy a new rood, and cannot tell what to do with the old: marry neighbours quoth the Mayor, if he will not serve you for a god, follow my advise, clap a pair of ●ornes on his head, and I warrant you he will prove an excellent good devil: and that sir, quoth the painter, will I do over and beside their bargain. Thus were the poor parishioners of Doncaster mocked, and yet paid their money: but their Uickar so dealt with bell, book, and candle against the poor painter for making the ill favoured rood, that he s●s in purgatory beaten with a Belroape.  
The tale of the Painter being ended, passing a little further, I might see where sat a crew of men that wore bay garlands on their heads, and they were Poets, amongst which was old Ennius; Virgil, Iwenall, Propertius, and wanton Ovid, martial, Horace, and many more: which had written lascivious verse, or other heroical poems. But above them all I marked old Ronsard, and he sat there with a scroll in his hand, wherein was written the description of Cassandra his Mistress, and because his style is not common, nor have I heard our English Poets writ in that vain, mark it, and I will rehearse it, for I have learned it by heart.   

RONSARDS' DESCRIPTION OF his Mistress, which he wears in his hand in Purgatory.  

Down I sat,  
I sat down,  
where Flora had bestowed her graces:  
green it was,  
It was green  
Far surpassing other places,  
For art and nature did combine  
With sights to witch the gazer's eyen.   

There I sat,  
I sat there  
viewing of this pride of places:  
Strait I saw,  
I saw strait  
the sweetest fair of all fair faces:  
Such a face as did contain,  
Heavens shine in every vain.   

I did look,  
Look did I,  
and there I saw Apollo's wires,  
Bright they were,  
They were bright,  
with them Aurora's head he tiers,  
But this I wondered how that now  
They shadowed in Cassandra's brow.   

Still I gazed,  
I gazed still,  
spying Luna's milk white glaze:  
Commixed fine,  
Fine commixed,  
with the morning's ruddy blaze:  
This white and red their seating seeks  
Upon Cassandra's smiling cheeks.   

Two stars then,  
Then two stars  
passing Sun or Moon in shine  
Appeared there,  
There appeared  
and were forsooth my Mistress ●ine:  
From whence proud Cupid threw his fires  
To set a flame all men's desires,   

Breasts she had,  
She had breasts  
white like the silver dove;  
Lie there did,  
There did lie  
Cupid overgrown with love,  
And in the vale that parts the pain  
Pitched his tent there to remain.   

This was she,  
She was this  
the fairest fair that ere I see;  
I did muse,  
Muse did I  
how such a creature found could be;  
A voice replied from the Air,  
She alone and none so fair.   
This was Ronsards description of his Mistress, and he is for●ll to hold it in his hand, that every time he cast● his eyes on it, he may with ●ghs feel a secret torment, in that he once loved too much being alive. A little above ●ate the ghis of a young gentlewoman that had been false to her husband, she should have been grievously tormented: but that she bestowed an annuity for three years pension upon a morrow mass priest, who so laboured it with dirges, trentals and masses Add requiem, that she had no other punishment but this, that her beautiful hair wherein she so much delighted, and whose trammels was a train to entrap young gentlemen, that now was clipped off bare to the skull, and so she sat ashamed and mourning: the cause as I learned was this.   

Why the gentlewoman of Lions sat with her hair clipped off in Purgatory.  
IN the City of Lions there dwelled a gentleman of good account amongst his neighbours, called Monsieur Perow; this gentleman having lands and revenues sufficient to maintain his estate, thought fully to heap to himself content, and therefore sought out a young virgin of equal parentage to himself, with whom he had a sufficient dowry, and her he loved, and she liked him, and so they married, living in good estimation amongst their Tenants. As they were thus linked together in wedlock, so it seemed in outward appearance that they were so strictly tied in affection, as no means might alienate. But women, whom nature hath framed to be inconstant, cannot be altered by nurture. The Palm will grow strait though it be never so depressed; and a wanton will be a wanton, were she married to Cupid, and so it proud by Maria; for so was the gentlewoman's name: who because she was fair had many Suitors, that attempted to be rivals with her husband in her love; amongst the rest as she resolved to choose one, there was a young amorous youth of Lions called Pier, he sought divers means to creep into her favour, passed by her house, and cast up looks that pleaded for pity, and had banded him again glances that foreshowed good will: Thus with interchange of favours they lived. Pier seeking opportunity how to reveal his mind to Maria, at last as he walked one day forth the town, he saw where she was walking only with one of her maids, taking therefore opportunity by the forehead he stepped to her, and began to court her with sundry protestations of his love, which had been long and so surely set as no despair could raze out, promising not only to be a faithful servant in constancy: but to be so careful of her honour as of his own life: & for your gravity, think Mistress quoth he, that faults in affections are slight follics, that Venus hath shrines to shade her truants, & Cupid's wings are shelters for such as venture far to content their thoughts, unseen is half pardoned, and love requires not chastity, but that her Soldiers be chary. Maria hearing the wag thus play the Orator, having love in her eyes and desire in heart, after a few faint denials, thrusting him away with the little ●inger, and pulling him to her with the whole hand, she granted him that favour to be called her servant. Grarde thus he grew in such credit, that there was no man with Maria but Pier, having thus a love beside her husband, although he was a fair man and well featured; yet she found fault with him, because he was a meacock and a milksop, not daring to draw his sword to revenge her wrongs: wherefore she resolved to entertain some Soldier, and so she did: for one Signior Lamberto a brave Gentleman; but some thing hard faced, sought her favour and found it, and him she entertained for her Champion.  
Thus had she a white livered Adonis to feed her eye with beauty, and a stout Hercules to revenge all her wrongs with his sword, and a poor husband to shadow both with his horns. Living thus contentedly in her own conceit, her husband went into the Country to a Farm of his, and thither with him he carried his wife, where he passed away many merry days in such pleasure, as Country sports can afford: at last serious affairs forcing him to it, he rid his way for three or four days to certain of his friends there adjoining. Maria seeing her husband gone thought not to let time slip, nor to lose opportunity: and therefore the next day after sent for Pier, who hasted as fast as might be, till he came to his Mistress, where he had such friendly entertainment as fitted both their humours; she caused her maid to make great cheer, and assoon as it was ready, to dinner they went, where they were scarce set but one knocked at the door, the maid looked out and it was Signior Lamberto, she ran and told her Mistress; who fearful that he should see Pier or know of him, hide him under the bed, and commanded her maid to bid Signior Lamberto come up: she like a cunning Courtesan giving him such favourable entertainment as though he were the man whom above all other she made account off. Faith sweet (quoth he) I heard thy husband was from home, and so I took my nag and came galloping hither: set him into the stable quoth the Mistress: No quoth (Signior Lamberto) let him be there still and bite of the bridle, for my business is such, as I will only dine with you, and then bid you farewell: with that he sat him down to dinner. Poor Pier lying close under the bed; thinking every minute an hour till he were gone: as thus they sat in their cups and were wanton qua●ing one to another; came in the maid running, and said, her Master came riding: at this Signior Lamberto started up and was amazed: but the gentlewoman was in a fear that had two lovers at once in her house, and yet could have hidden them both had it not been for the horse that stood tied in the Court yard: well a shift must be had, & where sooner than out of a woman's head. What shall I do quoth Signior Lamberto? marry I pray you good sweet heart quoth she, to save your own credit and mine, draw your sword and go down the stairs, and as you go, swear & say, that you shall find a time and place more convenient, when you will be revenged to the uttermost; so he did, & by that time was the gentleman of the house come in, who marveled to see a horse tied in the Court, and therefore alighting off came up the stairs, and as he came, met Lamberto with his sword drawn, and his face full of frowns, swearing, when fit time and place should serve he would revenge and that with extremity. What is the matter quoth the Master of the house? he answered nothing, but put up his sword, took horse & away towards Lions. Assoon as the gentleman came up, he found his wife amazed, sitting in the hall in the midst of the flower, as half beside herself: what is the matter wife (quoth he) that thou art so amazed, and that Signior Lamberto went down with his sword drawn in such a rage? Ah husband (quoth she) as I sat here at my work, came running into the court yard a proper young man having thrown away his Cloak and his Hat, and desired me, as I tendered the state of a man, to save his life, for Signior Lamberto would kill him: I pitying his case stepped in and hid him in my bedchamber: with that came Signior Lamberto galloping, dismounted in the court and drawing his sword, came running up and would have broken open my chamber door, but that on my knees I entreated him to the contrary: at my request he went his way, frowning as you see, and so he is road to Lions: the poor young man (alas) husband lies hid under the bed in great fear: and this tale she told so loud that Pier heard every word, and therefore had his lesson what he should answer: smile at the prompt wit of his Mistress that had so sudden a shift. Bid him come out wife quoth he: then she oapt the door, and Pier he came as one greatly affrighted from under the bed. The gentleman seeing him a proper young man and weaponless, had pity on him and said: he was glad that his house was a sanctuary for him, and greatly commended his wife that she had saved him from the fury of Signior Lamberto, whom all Lions accounted a most desperate man: upon this taking Pier by the hand they sat down to dinner, and when they had taken their repast, the gentleman very courteously conducted Pier home to Lions. Now for because she was thus inconstant, she to quality her pride and insolency, sat in Purgatory with the punishment afore rehearsed.  
This tale being ended, I looked a little further, and I might see where a young man and a young woman sat together naked from the middle upward, and a very old man whipping of them with nettles: they as persons that little regarded his punishment, would oftentimes kiss, and then the old man as one inwardly vexed, would bestir all his strength to torment them: the reason of this strange show was thus discoursed unto me.   

The tale of the two Lovers of Pisa, and why they were whipped in Purgatory with nettles.  
IN Pisa a famous City of Italy, there lived a gentleman of good lineage and lands, feared as well for his wealth as honoured for his virtue; but indeed well thought on for both: yet the better for his riches. This Gentleman had one only Daughter called Margaret, who for her beauty was liked of all and desired of many; but neither might their suits, nor her own eye prevail about her father's resolution, who was determined not to marry her, but to such a man as should be able in abundance to maintain the excellency of her beauty. divers young gentlemen proffered large ●ments, but in vain: a maid she must be still till at last an old Doctor in the town that professed Physic, became a suitor to her, who was a welcome man to her father, in that he was one of the wealthiest men in all Pisa. A tall stripling he was and a proper youth, his age about four score, his head as white as milk, wherein for offence sake there was left never a tooth: but it is no matter, what he wanted in person he had in the purse, which the poor gentlewoman little regarded, wishing rather to tie herself to one that might fit her content, though they lived meanly, then to him with all the wealth in Italy. But she was young and forest to follow her father's direction, who upon large covenants was content his daughter should marry with the Doctor, and whether she liked him or no, the match was made up, and in short time she was married. The poor wench was bound to the stake, and had not only an old impotent man: but one that was so jealous, as none might enter into his house without suspicion, nor she do any thing without blame: the least glance, the smallest countenance, any smile was a manifest instance to him, that she thought of others better than himself: thus he himself lived in a hell and tormented his wife in as ill perplexity. At last it chanced, that a young Gentleman of the City coming by her house, and seeing her look out at her window, noting her rare and excellent proportion, fell in love with her, and that so extremely, as his passions had no means till her favour might mitigate his heartsicke discontent. The young man that was ignorant in amorous matters and had never been used to Court any Gentlewomen, thought to reveal his passions to some one friend, that might give him counsel for the winning of her love, and thinking experience was the surest Master, on a day seeing the old Doctor walking in the Church that was Margaret's husband, little knowing who he was, he thought this the fittest man to whom he might discover his passions, for that he was old and knew much, and was a Physician that with his drugs might help him forward in his purposes: so that seeing the old man walk solitary he joined unto him, and after a courteous salute, told him that he was to impart a matter of great import unto him; wherein if he would not only be secret, but endeavour to pleasure him, his pains should be every way to the full considered. You must imagine gentleman, quoth Mutio, for so was the Doctor's name, that men of our profession are no blabs, but hold their secrets in their heart's bottom, and therefore reveal what you please, it shall not only be concealed; but cured, if either my Art or counsel may do it. Upon this Lionel, so was the young gentleman called, told and discoursed unto him from point to point how he was fallen in love with a gentlewoman that was married to one of his profession, discovered her dwelling and the house, and for that he was unacquainted with the woman, and a man little experienced in love matters, he required his favour to further him with his advise. Mutio at this motion was stung to the heart, knowing it was his wife he was fallen in love withal: yet to conceal the matter and to experience his wives chastity, and that if she played false he might be revenged on them both; he dissembled the matter and answered, that he knew the woman very well, and commended her highly; but said, she had a Churl to her husband: and therefore he thought she would be the more tractable: try her man quoth he, saint heart never won fair Lady: and if she will not be brought to the bent of your bow, I will provide such a potion as shall dispatch all to your own content, and to give you further instructions for opportunity, know that her husband is forth every after noon from three till six. Thus far I have advised you, because I pity your passions as myself being once a lover: but now I charge thee reveal it to none whomsoever, lest it do disparage my credit to meddle in amorous matters. The young Gentleman not only promised all careful secrecy, but gave him hearty thanks for his good counsel, promising to meet him there the next day, and tell him what news. Then he left the old man, who was almost mad for fear his wife any way should play false: he saw by experience, brave men came to besiege the castle, and seeing it was in a woman's custody and had so weak a governor as himself, he doubted it would in time be delivered up, which fear made him almost frantic: yet he driude of the time in great torment, till he might hear from his rival. Lionello he hasts him home and suits him in his bravery, and goes down towards the house of Mutio, where he sees her at the window, whom he courted with a passionate look with such an humble salute, as she might perceive how the Gentleman was affectionate. Margareta looking earnestly upon him, and noting the perfection of his proportion, accounted him in her eye the flower of all Pisa, thinkte herself fortunate, if she might have him for her friend, to supply those defaults that she found in Mutio: sundry times that afternoon he passed by her window, and he cast not up more loving looks than he received gracious favours: which did so encourage him, that the next day between three and six he went to her house, and knocking at the door, desired to speak with the Mistress of the house, who hearing by her maid's description, what he was, commanded him to come in, where she entertained him with all courtesy.  
The youth that never before had given the attempt to court a Lady, began his exordium with a blush: and yet went forward so well, that he discoursed ●nto her how he loved her, and that if it might please her so to accept of his service, as of a friend ever vowed in all duty to be at her command, the care of her honour should be dearer to him then his life, and he would be ready to prize her discontent with his blood at all times.  
The Gentlewoman was a little coy, but before they passed they concluded, that the next day at four of the clock he should come thither and eat a pound of cherries, which was resolved on with a succado des labres, and so with a loath to departed they took their leaves. Lionello as joyful a man as might be, hied him to the church to meet his old Doctor, where he found him in his old walk: what news sir quoth Mutio? how have you sped? Even as I can wish quoth Lionello. For I have been with my Mistress, and have found her so tractable, that I hope to make the old peasant her husband look broad headed by a pair of browantlers. How deep this stroke into Mutios' heart, let them imagine that can conjecture what jealousy is; in so much that the old Doctor asked when should be the time: marry quoth Lionello, to morrow at four of the clock in the afternoon, and then Master Doctor quoth he; will I dub the old Squire knight of the forked order.  
Thus they passed on in chat till it grew late, and then Lionello went home to his lodging, and Mutio to his house, covering all his sorrows with a merry countenance, with full resolution to revenge them both the next day with extremity. He passed the night as patiently as he could, and the next day after dinner away he went, watching when it should be four of the clock, at the hour just came Lionello, and was entertained with all courtesy: but scarce had they kissed, ere the maid cried out to her Mistress that her Master was at the door: for he hasted, knowing that a horn was but a little while on grafting: Margaret at this alarm was amazed, and yet for a shift ●pt Lionello into a great dry fat full of feathers, and sat her down close to her work: by that came Mutio in blowing, and as though he came to look somewhat in haste, called for the keys of his Chambers, and looked in every place, searching so narrowly in every corner of the house, that he left not the very privy unsearched: seeing he could not find him, he said nothing, but feigning himself not well at ease staid at home, so that poor Lionello was feign to stay in the dry fat till the old churl was in bed with his wife; and then the maid let him out at a backdoor, who went home with a flea in his ear to his lodging.  
Well the next day he went again to meet his Doctor, whom he found in his wonted walk; what news quoth Mutio? how have you sped? A pox of the ●uld slave quoth Lionello, I was no sooner in, and had given my mistress one kiss, but the jealous ass was at the door, the maid spied him, and cried her Master: so that the poor Gentlewoman for very shift, was feign to put me in a drie-fatte of feathers that stood in an old Chamber, and there I was feign to tarry while he was in bed and a sleep; and then the maid let me out and I departed.  
But it is no matter, 'twas but a chance, and I hope to cry quittance with him ere it be long: as how quoth Mutio? Marry thus, quoth Lionello: she sent me word by her Maid this day, that upon thursday next the old Churl suppeth with a patiented of his a mile out of Pisa, and then I fear not but to quit him for all: It is well quoth Mutio: Fortune be your friend: I thank you quoth Lionello, and so after a little more prattle they departed.  
To be short, Thursday came, and about six of the Clock forth goes Mutio, no further than a friends house of his, from whence he might descry who went into his house, strait he saw Lionello enter in; and after goes he, insomuch that he was scarcely sitten down, before the Maid cried out again, my master comes: the good wife that before had provided for afterclaps; had found out a privy place between two ceilings of a plauncher, and there she thrust Lionello; & her husband came sweating, what news, quoth she, drives you home again so soon husband? Marry sweet wife quoth he, a fearful dream that I had this night which came to my remembrance, & that was this: me thought there was a villeine that came secretly into my house with a naked poinard in his hand, and hid himself: but I could not find the place, with that mine nose bled, and I came back; and by the grace of God I will seek every corner in the house for the quiet of my mind. Marry I pray you do husband, quoth she: with that he locked in all the doors, and began to search every chamber, every hole, every chest, every tub, the very well, he stabbed every featherbed through, and made havoc like a mad man, which made him think all was in vain, and he begun to blame his eyes that thought they saw that which they did not: upon this he rest half lunatic, & all night he was very wakeful, that towards the morning he fell into a dead sleep, and then was Lionello conveyed away.  
In the morning when Mutio wakened, he thought how by no means he should be able to take Lionello tardy; yet he laid in his head a most dangerous plot, and that was this: Wife quoth he, I must the next monday ride to Vycensa to visit an old patient of mine, till my return, which will be some tendayes, I will have that stay at our little grange house in the country: marry very well content husband, quoth she: with that he kissed her, and was very pleasant, as though he had suspected nothing, and away he flings to the Church: where he móetes Lionello: what sir quoth he what news, is your mistress yours in possession? no, a plague of the old slave quoth he; I think he is either a witch or else works by Magic: for I can no sooner enter in the doors but he is at my batke, and ●o 〈◊〉 was again yesternight: for I was not ●me in my 〈◊〉 before the maid cried, my master 〈◊〉; and then was the poor soul sane to convey me between two stings of a chamber in a sit place for the purpose: where I ●ght heartily to myself, to see how he sought every corner, rans●t every tub, and stabbed every featherbed; but in vain, I was safe enough till the morning, and then when he was fast a sleep, I lipped out. Fortune frowns 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 quoth Mutio: I but I hope quoth Lionello this is the last time; 〈◊〉 she 〈◊〉 begin to smile: for on monday next 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to Vicensa, and his wise lies at a grange house a little o●he town, and there in his absence I will revenge alford missor●: 〈◊〉 send it to be so quoth Mutio, 〈◊〉 so 〈◊〉 his 〈◊〉. These two lovers longed for monday; & at last it came, early in the morning Mutio horsed himself, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and a man, and no more, and away ●e 〈◊〉 to his grange house; where after he had broke his fast he took his leave, & away towards Vicensa. He rod● not far ere by a false way he returned into a thicket, & there with a company of country peasants lay in an ambuscado to take the 〈◊〉 Gentleman: in the afternoon comes Lionello galloying, and assoon as he came within sight of the house, he sent back his horse by his boy, & went easily a foot, & there at the ●ry entry was enterteind by Margaret, who led him up the 〈◊〉, and conveyed him into her bedchamber saying be was welcome into so mean a cottage: but quoth 〈◊〉, now I hope fortune shall not envy the purity of our loves. Alas alas mistress cried the maid, here is my master, & 100 men with him, with bills & staves: we are betrayed quoth Lionello, & I am but a dead man: fear not quoth she, but follow me, and strait she carried him down into a low parlour; where 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 an old rottenchest full of writings, she put him into that, and covered him with old papers and euy●ntes, and went to the gate to m●te her husband: why signior Mutio, what means this hurly burly quoth she? vile & shameless strumpet as thou art, thou shalt know by and by ●th he. Where is thy love: all we have watch him & seen he enter in: now quoth he, shall neither thy tub of feathers, nor thy seeling serve, for perish he shall with fire, or else fall into my hands. Do thy worst jealous fool quoth she, I ask thee no favour: with that in a rage he beset the house round, and then set fire on it. Oh in what a perplexity was poor Lionello that was shut in a Chest, and the fire about his ears? and how was Margaret passionate that knew her lover in such danger? yet she made light of the matter, and as one in a rage called her maid to her, & said; Come on wench, seeing thy Master mad with jealousy hath set the house & all my living on ●re, I will be revenged upon him, help me here to lift this old Chest where all his writings & deeds are, let that burn first, and assoon as I see that on fire I will walk towards my friends: for the old fool will be beggared and I will refuse him. Mutio that knew all his obligations and statutes lay there pulled her back, and bad two of his men carry the Chest into the field, and see it were safe, himself standing by and seeing his house burnt down stick and stone. Then quieted in his mind he went home with his wife, & began to flatter her, thinking assuredly that he had burnt her Paramour; causing his Chest to be carried in a Cart to his house at Pisa. Margaret impatient went to her mothers, and complained to her and to her brethren of the jealousy of her husband: who maintained it to be true, and desired but a days respite to prove it: well he was bidden to supper the next night at her mothers, she thinking to make her daughter and him friends again. In the mean time he to his wonted walk in the Church, & there praeter expectationem he found Lionello walking: wondering at this, he strait inquires what news? What news Master Doctor quoth he, & he fell in a great laughing; in faith yesterday I scaped a ●owring: For sirrah I went to the grange house, where I was appointed to come, and I was no sooner gotten up the Chamber, but the magical 〈◊〉 her husband beset the house with bills and staves, and that he might be sure no ceiling nor corner should shrawde me, he set the house on fire: and so 〈◊〉 it 〈◊〉 to the ground, Why quoth Mutio 〈◊〉 how did you escape? alas quoth I, well far a woman's wit, she conveyed me into an old chest full of writings, which she knew her husband durst not burn, and so was I saved and brought to Pysa, and yesternight by her maid let home to my lodging. This quoth he, is the pleasantest jest that ever I heard: and upon this I have a suit to you, I am this night bidden forth to supper, you shall be my guest, only I will crave so much favour, as after supper for a pleasant sport, to make relation what success you have had in your loves: for that I will not stick quoth he, and so he carried Lionello to his mother in laws house with him, and discovered to his wives brethren 〈◊〉 be was, & how at supper he would disclose the whole matter: for quoth he, he knows not that I am Margaret's husband: at this all the brethren 〈◊〉 him welcome, 〈◊〉 so did the mother to, & Margaret she was kept out of sight. Supper time being come, they fell to their vict●, & Lionello was caroused unto by Mutio, who was very pleasant to draw him to a merry humour, that he, might to the full discourse the effect & fortunes of his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ended, Mutio requested him to tell to the Gentlemen, what had happened between him & his mistress. Lionello with a smiling countenance, began to describe his Mistress, the house, and street where she dwelled, how he fell in love with her, & how he used the counsel of this Doctor, who in all his affairs was his secretary. Margaret heard all this with great fear, & when he came at the last point, she caused 〈◊〉 ●p of wine to be givenhim by one of her sisters; wherein was a ring that he had given Margaret; as he had told how he es●t burning, and was ready to con●e all for a troth, the Gentlewoman drunk to him: who taking the cup and seeing the ring shaving 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 reaching head, spied the fetch, and perceived that all this while this was his lovers husband; to whom he 〈◊〉 revealed these escapes: at this drinking the wine, and swallowing the ring into his mouth, he went forward. Gentlemen quoth he, how like you of my 〈◊〉 and my 〈◊〉 〈◊〉▪ well 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉▪ tiemen, I pray you is it true▪ as true quoth he, as if I 〈◊〉 be so simple as to reveal what I did to Margaret's husband; for know you Gentlemen, that I knew this Mutio to be her husband whom I noticed to be my lover, and for that he was generally known through Pisa to be a jealous fool: therefore with these tales I brought him into this paradise, which indeed are follies of mine own brain: for trust me by the faith of a gentleman, I never spoke to the woman, was 〈◊〉 ner in her company, neither 〈◊〉 I 〈◊〉 her 〈◊〉 I see her. At this they all fell in a laughing at Mutio, who was 〈◊〉 that Lionello had in 〈◊〉 him: but all 〈◊〉 well, they were made friends, but the 〈◊〉 went so to his heart, that he shortly after died, and Lionello enjoyed she Lady, and for that they two were the death of the 〈◊〉 man, now are they plagued in purgatory, 〈◊〉 he 〈◊〉 them 〈◊〉 Nettles.  
Assoon as I had pa●d over these two of Pisa, I looked about and saw many more, as mad and pleasant as the 〈◊〉: but my time was come that I must to the ●ge to be censured, what 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 have my 〈◊〉 for all the ma● wanton 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 I 〈◊〉 when I was alive, faith at last because they 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I was above companion, they appointed that I should sit and play jigs all ●y on my Taber to the ghosts without cea●g, which hath brought me into such 〈◊〉, that I now play far better than when I was alive: for proof thou 〈◊〉 hear a hornpipe: with that putting his pipe to his 〈◊〉, the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 he strikes I started, and with that I wak●, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 such concourse of people through the 〈◊〉, that I 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 play was ●ne, whereupon rising up, and 〈◊〉 at my dream, and after supper took my 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I could set it down, but not half so pleasantly 〈◊〉 he s●oake it, but howsoever, take it in good part, and so farewell.  
FINIS.