GRIMELLOS Fortunes, With his Entertainment in his travail.  
A discourse full of pleasure.  
LONDON, Printed for E. White, and are to be sold at his Shop near the little North door of S. Paul's▪ Church at the Sign of the Gun. 1604   

To the Reader.  
GRimellos Fortunes were more than were spoken of, and such as are, you may easily consider of: Who runs many courses, is sometime out of the way, and so was he, and every man cannot thrive, no more did he: yet his will was good, so may be yours: But his Fortune was so so, so may be yours. But what became of him in the end, is not spoken: and what you mean to do, I cannot judge. Him I had little acquaintance with, and you less: only his name I have read, but yours I know not, that I have heard of: Of him I hear no evil, nor wish to hear any of you: Him I find witty, and you I hope to find wise; if not, I shall be sorry for your wit, as mine own Fortune, to let my labours fall into your hands. But I will think the best, and so in the best thought I rest in hope of your patience.  
Your friend, B. N.   

Faxit Deus  
THE ENTERTAINMENT OF Grimello, by signor Ganuzido, as he overtook him on the way.  Grimello. Ganuzido. Gri. 
YOu are well over taken Sir.  Gan. 
What? are you so sure of it?  Gri. 
Sure, of what sir?  Gan. 
Why, my Purse.  Gri. 
Your Purse? no sir, it was the least part of my thought.  Gan. 
Why, what have you taken then? or have you authority to take fools as you find them in your way? If you have, you may happen yet to be deceived.  Gri. 
Why sir, I set no springs for Woodcocks, and though I be no great wise man, yet I can do something else, then shoe the Boose for my living: and therefore, I pray you neither fear your Purse, nor play too much with my folly. But if you can find in your heart to do good for him that cannot deserve it, and will trust a stranger, with as much as you dare loose, it may be I should tell you a longer tale than you would believe, or else find you kinder than I can look for.  Gan. 
Why? say I were as I may be (for aught you know) an honest man, and of ability to do for you more than I mean to prate of, if I like of your talk, and your behaviour, what would you say to me?  Gri. 
I could say somewhat unto you, but that my heart is full.  Gan. 
Of what?  Gri. 
Sorrows.  Gan. 
For what?  Gri. 
Oh sir, it were a world to tell you the discourse of the causes of them.  Ga. 
Well then, by the way, let me ask you a question or two.  Gri. 
As many as please you.  Ga. 
Then first, tell me whence came you?  Gri. 
From Terra Florida, and am going to Isola Brata.  Ga. 
Oh, I understand a little Latin, and if I be not much mistaken, you came from the flourishing Land, and are travailing towards the blessed Island.  Gri. 
Very true sir.  Gan. 
Then figuratively, you came from the Alehouse, and are going to the Tavern.  Gri. 
Oh sir, you make too hard a construction of my disposition: for, though a cup of good Ale be comfortable in the morning, and a draft of old Sack, warm the heart to bedward: yet for myself, I hold a moderate diet the wholesomest Physic, and for those kind of houses, they are but for necessity: and therefore I pray you sir, be better conceived of my condition.  Gan. 
Well then, let me ask you, how you made your walk hither?  Gri. 
In briefe-sir, not knowing your business, in admitting your leisure, or requiring more haste, and so fearing by tediousness, to be some trouble to your patience, with your good favour sir, thus it is. After that I had past the great Mountain of mishaps, I fell into a long vail of misery, in which I have wandered to the foot of this hill of hope, on which I have not been a little comforted, since I came into your presence.  Gan. 
Come, you are so fine, but will you not be angry, if I tell you my mind, touching your figures?  Gri. 
Not for my life sir.  Gan. 
Then it may be, you were going up Holbourne-Hill, and so afterward to Tyburn: From whence, having escaped more by good fortune, than desert, you have gone a begging ever since: and having learned your terms of art, either at School, (which you have not forgotten, to put to an ill use) or among such as yourself, that with Eloquence, think to cozen simplicity of a little coin, you would draw a hand of me: but you are deceived in me, or it may be, that I am deceived in you, and therefore I pray you tell me what you are, your profession and purpose? it may be for your good: for your hurt believe me it shall not be.  Gri. 
Sir, to tell you what I am, you know what all men are, and so am I: Dust and Ashes and worms meat, my profession honesty: which, if the heavens will favour, I care for no fortune.  Ga. 
Well said, but how do you profess honesty?  Gri. 
I protest.  Gan. 
What, do you only protest honesty? Why then, your profession is but a protestation, as thus: You protest it a thing necessary in a common wealth, but more commendable than commodious for many men to deal withal.  Gri. 
Oh no sir, no such matter: I know there is no true commodity without it, and for myself, in all the courses that I have yet run, I have had so great a care of it, & so great a love to it, that I have had rather have lost all that I had in the world, and myself last of all, then have lived without it: and without boast be it spoken, I now have it about me, and carry it easily without any weight or trouble.  Ga. 
And where, I pray you?  Gri. 
Truly sir, in my heart, Where I hope it is too fast, for ever getting out, while I live.  Gan. 
Well then, if I must needs (as I have yet no reason to the contrary) believe what you say. Let me hear a little of your courses, and of your honesty in them.  Gri. 
I will tell you Sir first: After I had passed out Crosse-rowe, spelled, and put together, read without a Festraw, had my Grammar Rules without book, and was gone from School to the Universities, there beginning in Philosophy, by God's grace to judge betwixt good and evil: and what honour was in honesty, and what shame in the contrary: I rather noted than loved the fallacies in arguments: and governing nature with reason, I was called the honest Scholar: For I never used Rhetoric to persuade wickedness, nor poetry in wantonness, nor Divinity in pride, nor law in Covetousness, nor Physic in malice, nor Music in beggary: but held learning so honourable in all studies, that I avoided all that I might any way disgrace her.  Ga. 
And therewithal you waked.  Gri. 
Why Sir?  Gan. 
Why, I cannot see how being awake, you could do so: Temptations, Illusions, and suggestions (and I know not what such other tricks) would have put you so out of your By-ace, that you would some time have lost the cast, had you bowled never so well. But let me hear you a little speak of your honesty in all your points of learning.  Gri. 
Why, I tell you, I made no love to wenches, I did cozen no simple trust with untruth: I fed my flock, undid no Client poisoned no patient, nor followed a Fairy with a blind Fiddle: but won the wilful with good words, to a good way: made verses in the only honour of virtue: was true to my friends, followed my clients case to his content, Preached every week in my Parish Church: Cured sound my Patients, and made content my best Music.  Ga. 
And yet could not thrive with all this?  Gri. 
Oh no.  Gan. 
The reason?  Gri. 
I will tell you, words had no weight without money, and I was poor, and the rich were covetous: therefore my good words only did good, to good minds, that benefited not a little by my labours; but my gain was only a good name: so that most my enemy which would say, I was a fool, would say, that I was an honest man. My Poetry belied no man's villainy, nor laid open his shame, but reprehended vice privately, and touched no man's name in infamy. My Clients would pray for my life, for my true pleading: and my Parish all loved me, because I was contented with what they gave me: my patients commended my medicines, and my Music was pleasing, because it was not common.  Gan. 
Well, then sir, your Rhetoric was gracious, your Potrye divine, your divinity, pure, your Law justice, your Physic learned, and your Music Harmonious: and yet with all these you could not thrive.  Gr. 
No, For I could not flatter nor feign, nor be idle, nor sell breath, nor bear malice, nor abide beggary.  Gan. 
Well said, I like you well for this: but let me go a little farther on with you out of booke-matters. What other courses have you passed with this same honesty?  Gri. 
Truly Sir, after that I had left my hard study, I became a Courtier.  Gan. 
Yea marry Sir, now you come to me: let me hear a little of that point with you.  Gri. 
I will tell you Sir, my place being not great there, I can tell you of no great matters, but thus far without offence. I loved no Painting on my face, no superfluity in my diet nor excess in my apparel, nor to creep to a Thorn nor to flatter a fool, nor converse with a Muchavilion, nor to make idle love, nor to scoff at virtue, nor to quarrel for trifles, nor to tell lies, nor to importune friends, nor to delay suitors: but in all points of courtesy, so linked honesty with modesty, that, being faithful to my God, loyal to my Sovereign, careful of myself and kind unto my friend: my heart was all day in a good harbour, and at night, my Conscience made me sleep quietly.  Gan. 
All this I like well, and the rather, for that your estate answers (at this time) to the condition of simplicity: but on a little further for I greatly care not to talk too much of Court-courses: and yet I pray you tell me the cause why you had such a care of your honesty in all your Court-time? But first, let me ask you, why you would not paint your face as many do?  Gri. 
Because I would not offend God with setting an other colour on my face, than Nature by his grace had given me.  Gan. 
Well said, but why did you forbear superfluity in your diet?  Gri. 
For that, with gluttony and drunkenness, I would not please the devil.  Gan. 
Very good now why do you mislike excess in apparel?  Gri. 
Because the wise that saw my fashions should not laugh at me for my folly.  Gan. 
A good care: but why would you not creep to a Thistle?  Gri. 
For fear of pricking my knees, and making an idol of idleness.  Gan. 
And why do you hate to flatter a fool?  Gri. 
Because I fret at my misery, to tie my patience to ignorance, and I would shun the infection of a thirsting spirit.  Ga. 
Well said, but why would you not converse with a Machavilion?  Gri. 
For fear of a villain.  Gan. 
Why would you not make love?  Gri. 
Because of the fashion.  Gan. 
How so?  Gri. 
Why, it is unfit to the body, or the mind, or state, or common, or foolish, or an idle thing or an other about it, so that I was loath to lose time, about the trial of it.  Ga. 
Good, but why durst you not scoff at virtue?  Gri. 
For fear to be hateful both to God and man.  Ga. 
A gracious conceit: Now why did you mislike of quarrels?  Gri. 
Because they are enemies to peace, dangers of death, and disquietness of the senses.  Ga. 
Very good: now why did you hate lying?  Grin. 
Because of the devil is the author of it, no honest man but abhors it: no Christian but may be ashamed of it: Few or none but the wicked love it: Furthermore, when I tell true, I shall not be believed.  Gan. 
You say well: Now, why would you not importune friends?  Gri. 
For fear to weary them, and so to lose them.  Gan. 
Why would you not delay Suitors?  Gri. 
Because I would not abuse their trust, nor be pitiless of their misery.  Gan. 
All this I like well: but for that I like not too much to talk of Court-courses, I pray you tell me of your next course, and honesty in it.  Gri. 
Very willingly. The next was Arms: I left the Court and followed the field, sought by danger to win Honour: and when by deserts of service, I had gotten to the charge of Government: I did not abuse my credit, with either foolish hardiness, or base Cowardice.  Gan. 
What was your reason?  Gri. 
For fear, by the First, to lose either mine honour, or my people: By the other, to lose my credit unrecoverable.  Gan. 
Well said. Now to your next point.  Gri. 
I would not deceive my soldier of his pay, nor make a melch-Cow of a man.  Gan. 
And why? profit goeth beyond Conscience in many considerations.  Gri. 
Yea, with such as think of no other world but this: but I have no part in their play, for honour admits no Avarice, and it is an unchristian humour, to make money of men.  Gan. 
Well said, and what was your next care?  Gri. 
Not to forget mercy in justice, not to favour the vicious, nor to pardon the obstinate.  Gan. 
And why?  Gri. 
Because as justice is the grace of judgement, so is mercy the glory of justice.  Gan. 
Why would you not favour the vicious?  Gri. 
Because they are the enemies of God, and the spoil of men.  Gan. 
You say true, but last of all, wherefore would you not pardon the obstinate?  Gri. 
For fear of infecting of other, and growing into a greater mischief, if he scape unpunished.  Ga. 
A good consideration, for in time of war, one mutinous villain may mar a whole Camp: these indeed were honest cares in you: but it seems, fortune was not always your friend, or else she would have furnished you better for your preferment: But I see, you have learned patience, which is a great virtue in all men, and in all courses. It seems you had no pleasure in firing of Cities, in bloody massacres, nor in robbing of Churches.  Gri. 
Oh no, for God never prospereth the blood-thirsty, the merciless, nor the ungracious: and indeed, I must say what I know, that a true Soldier, is neither Thief, Murderer, nor unmerciful.  Gan. 
I am of your mind in this: But not to trouble you too much with inquiring after your courses in the wars: let me a little ask you of the next course, and as you said, of your honesty in it.  Gri. 
Very willingly. The next course I took was this: finding my body, not answerable to my mind, and the gains of my adventures no greater than would defray the charges of my necessary expenses: I left the field, and took me to my chamber, where resolved to betake myself wholly to my book: I fell sound to the study of the law: in which, when I had so profited, that I was able to plead a case, and judge betwixt right and wrong. I had that care of my conscience, that, of poor men I would take no money, and of the rich, I would not be bribed: And finding by some small ordinary fees, I could hardly pay for my books, my chamber, and my apparel, and my outside being far unfit for the comeliness of that profession: I was enforced to leave that course, to a conscience of an other kind: and seeing the misery of Clients, the quiddities in Cases, and the long delay in Courts: I left the Law, sold my books, and my chamber, and keeping only a Nightgown to keep me warm in a cold winter. I got me into the Country, there intending to play the good husband: where, having taken the lease of a pretty farm, I hoped to make much of a little.  Gri. 
Well said, but let me ask you, why you would not take money of poor men for counsel?  Gri. 
Because their misery should not curse my Covetousness: for though therich would wrong them, I would not wring them.  Ga. 
And well said, a sign of a good mind: But why would you receive no bribes of the rich?  Gri. 
Because I would not sell breath for money; and I had more care of my Conscience, than their Coin.  Ga. 
Well spoken, a sign of a gracious spirit. And since a good Conscience, is better than a golden Castle, you did better to seek a quiet life with a mean gain, then to charge your Conscience with a heap of treasure. But since the study of the Law is both tedious & costly, I hold a good Pleader worthy his Foe, and a reverent judge worthy his Honour, without whose great care and travail, the Common wealth would hardly be kept in good order: And therefore I will leave further to talk of your Law-courses, and entreat you to tell me how you fared with the farm?  Gri. 
Oh very well: as long as my Purse was my friend, I had Horses, Bullocks, Cows, Sheep and Corn, and company enough to help me to spend more than I got: yet would I not mingle the fusty, overgrown corn, with the sweet and good. I would not sell an old sheep for a Lamb, nor an old Cow for a young Heiffor I would not forestall any markets, take any house over a tenants head: sell rotten Trees for good timber, raise the price of grain nor of cattle, nor defraud the labourer of his hire: But when my Cattle died, my fruit was blasted, and my Purse grew so bare, that great rents would not be paid with fair words: two or three years brought me so down the wind, that I could never look up more to the welkin: and so in brief, selling all that I had, having no charge of wife, nor children, I took that little that remained after the discharge of my debts, & going into some strange place where I was not known, I meant to seek my fortune, in the service of some such Noble or honest Gentleman, as would in his discretion, regard the care of my duty.  Ga. 
Why, have you ever served?  Gri. 
Yes a while, but I have observed the carriage of diverse, and not the worst wits in their places that have served: which, if it were my hap to come into, I would utterly avoid.  Ga. 
I pray you tell me some of your notes, for by your judgement in that you have rehearsed, I can believe nothing in you to be idle.  Gri. 
I thank you Sir, for your good opinion of me, but howsoever I prove, I will satisfy your request. When I came into a house where I saw diversity of servants, and every one make a gain in his place: I began to cast mine eyes about me, when I might see one carry a ring in his mouth, & it made not his teeth bleed. I heard an other claw a back, as though he would leave no flesh on the bones: an other play so on both hands, as if he had put down a cunning juggler: an other playing at Bopeep, with the eyes of his mistress: an other following judas, in betraying his master, and yet not one of these but made a gain of his villainy.  Ga. 
As how I pray you? if at least you can tell me, and first for the King-carrier?  Gri. 
Why, when no man would challenge the Stone, he should have the gold for his labour.  Ga. 
Well couched; Now, for the next: to the Claw-back, what got he by his trade?  Gri. 
Somewhat more than a Louse, when he met with a suit of Satin.  Gan. 
Well said, now to the third: the Ambodxeter, he that plays an both hands?  Gri. 
Sir, jack of both sides, got a cloak of his master, and a shirt of his mistress, when he did fit her humour, & serve his turn.  Gan. 
Well hit, but, to the fourth now: Wagge-wanton with his mistress.  Gri. 
Oh, he gate his master's love through her commendation, and her comfort through his own diligence.  Ga. 
A necessary servant, it is a sign he was not idle, when he was so well occupied.  Gri. 
Exercised, you would have said, Sir I think at least.  Ga. 
Oh you say well: but nothing is ill-spoken that is not ill-taken. But, now to the last, the judas, what gained he?  Gri. 
That, which of all I pray God keep me from.  Ga. 
Why man, what was it?  Gri. 
Why Sir, the Gallows, if not hell. But it is a shrewd presumption: for Treason is surely the very high-waie to hell.  Ga. 
Well said: then if thou wert well entertained, with a good master, thou wouldst neither carry a ring, claw a back, play on both hands, be no wagge-wanton, with thy mistress, nor judas with thy master?  Gri. 
No indeed Sir, I would be none of these.  Ga. 
What would you then do, or can you do, if upon my good liking, of your behaviour, I should procure your preferment?  Gri. 
Sir, I can do many things, more than I mean to boast of, and when I know of what title, either for honour or honesty, my master or mistress may be, I will then tell you, how I can fit my service to their contentment.  Ga. 
Well then, say he were a young Lord, and I would prefer you to attend him in his chamber.  Gri. 
I would never be without a brush for his apparel: I would see his chamber neatly kept, his bed soft and finely made, his linen clean washed, and his chests fast locked: I would be humble in my behaviour, and civil in my demeanour, go discreetly on a message, bring him word of his mistress health, and his Cousin's good rest: and what time of the day it is, etc.  Ga. 
Well put off, but say it were a fine Gentlewoman, that I would put you to?  Gri, 
Oh, I would be full of courtesy, hold her Glass steady, bring her painting unseen, and her Periwig uncrushed: Have her tailor at a beck, run quickly for her errand, now and then tell her a merry tale: and once in favour, never lose it again I warrant you.  Ga. 
But will you not commend her favourite.  Gri. 
No, I hate that vile baseness, or rather, base villainy, to make my tongue an enemy to my heart: I would rather leave her to seek a servant, than I would be found in such a service.  Ga. 
Well said: but say that it were to a meaner person, I should put thee, I cannot say, prefer thee to: as for example: Let me say it be some honest man of trade or traffic, or so forth; how could you behave yourself, that I might hope of your credit?  Gri. 
Why Sir, I would keep his book of account, cast up by his reckonings once in four and twenty hours, look well unto his shop, learn the price of his wares, ask what lack you of passers buy, use his Chapmen kindly, and every one with courtesy: so that I would get more with good words, than some other should do with good ware. In brief, I would be an honest man, and that is worth all.  Gan. 
Good all that I yet hear: & if there be no worse matter in you, than I have yet heard from you, nor hope to find in you, I do not greatly care, if your case be desperate, that for lack of entertainment, to save the charge of an empty purse, you would venture upon a bad master rather than none, i'll try a little what you can do about my house: Base actions, as filling the Dung-cart, going to plough, keeping of hogs, or washing of bucks, sweeping the houses, or making clean shoes: these offices, I have in my house; Boys and Girls enough, fit for the purpose. But to oversée my family, to instruct my children, to be Steward of my courts, keeper of my Park, ranger of my Forest, and now and then to wait on my wife: one of these offices, if any be void, I care not if I place thee in, so that in thy good carriage, thou dost not deceive my expectation?  Gri.. 
Sir, not to trouble you with idle ceremonies, try me, and trust me: either you or your Lady.  Ga. 
You say well: but by the way, because it is above three miles to my house, and good talk passeth the time well away, Let me entreat you to tell me somewhat of your Fortunes in your cross courses; if, at least, they be not such, as you will in modesty conceal, or are not willing to call in memory.  Gri. 
No Sir, I fear not to satisfy your desire, either in respect of my folly or my fortune. For the first is excusable in youth, and the other is herself in all ages: and therefore let me tell you, thus it was: In my young and little better than childish years, my father having put me to school, to a more furious than wise Schoolmaster, who by the help of his Usher (a better scholar than himself,) brought up a few good wits, to better understanding than his own: I having learned to spell and put together, to Construe, and Parce, to write my letters and to join, and to make my mistress Pistles, when my master was from home: It fell out I know not how, that he, being a man very vigilant in all his courses; and seeing my mistress beauty able to make a good Scholar forget his lesson, imagining by his study in Astronomy, that the sign of his Fortune, stood too strait upon Capricorn, meaning to cross the fates in their powers, found a means to remove all his Borders from his house, in regard of a Meigrum in his head, which was much troubled by the noise of our Pu-rulines. Now I, as little guilty, as any of the cause of his folly, was yet among my fellows banished his house, and shortly after, sent home to our friends. Where having idled it so long, that books were enemies to our delights, I like a good wag among other, seeing one day a gallant knight come home to my father's house, finding my spirit not so dull as to dwell always in one place: made all the means I could to prefer myself into his service. Which, with my mother's entreaty, my father brought to pass: Preferred I was to this Gallant, and from a Scholar must turn Page; when, if I should tell you the tenth part of the waggeries, that I passed through, I should break mine oath on the Pantable, call old tricks in question, and perhaps, wrong some that were my fellows then, who would be loath to hear of it now: Yet will I not be so sparing of my speech, but that I dare tell you one merry part, that I and my good fellows played, that perhaps is worth the laughing at.  Gan. 
I pray you do.  Gri. 
I will tell you: thus it was. I being in my youth reasonably well-favoured, of a pure complexion, and of a reasonable good stature, and having wit enough, upon a little warning to play the wag in the right vain: It was my hap among other my fellow-Pages, to take knowledge, of a certain Gallant in our Court, a man of no great worth any way, and yet, a sufficient Block for Frogs to leap upon: His years about some twenty two, or there about, his complexion, Sea, cole-sanguine, a most wicked face, and a wit correspondent: to be short, for that ill faces make no pleasant descriptions, let it suffice, that he was every way a very filthy fellow: and yet, having better clothes than he was worthy to wear, and more money than he could wisely use: This Lob-lollie, with slavering lips, would be making love, and that not only to one, but every day one: & though he were scarce welcome to any, yet would be blush at no disgrace. This younker had we found out, and hearing of his disposition, we fitted his humour, one of us would borrow a Lady's commendations, to get an Angel withal, for a message: An other get a Nosegay or a bay leaf, and bring from his mistress, which came up with five, with a French Crown: An other or two of us, haunt him at dinner, and with a song or a Galliard, nibble on his Purse for a piece of gold: An other of us, somewhat towards the man, and in a manner past a Page, would fall in hand with him for a rest or two, till which, some secret tricks of our own setting, we could dive into a few Crowns worth the taking up. Now when we had fed upon him so long, that we feared it would come out: we devised to lay a plot to befool him to the full. We had among us one fine boy, (I will not say, myself, whose feature and beauty made him an amiable creature.) This youth, we had agreed among ourselves, to make a means, by which, to catch this Woodcock in a fine spring: Which, in few days after, we enacted, as I will tell you: we got apparel of a Gentlewoman, (a waiting woman of a Lady) of whom, having acquainted her with our intended sport, we borrowed many things fit for our purpose. This Boy (being now a supposed Wench) we caused to take a lodging right over against this Wizard's hospital: Where, out of his window, beholding this beautiful object, his eyes were no sooner Limed with blindness, but, his heart was so set on fire with folly, that there was no ways to quench it, but the favour of this imagined fair Lady, Gentlewoman, or mistress, what you will. Now, we that daily used, (more for our comfort, than his commodity) to visit him, no sooner in his chamber having gotten a view of her, but we fell with admiration to commend her beyond the Moon for an excellent creature: Oh, what an Eye? What a Lip? what a forehead? what a cheek? what a harry? what a hand? what a body? For further, at the window we could not see: Thus by little and little, we brought him half mad before, with conceit, ready to hang himself for love. And now must those little wits he had, go to work, to show his folly. Now we must get him a Poet, to make him verses in her commendation, a Scholar to write his Love-letters, Music to play under her window, and Gloves, Scarves, and Fans to be sent for presents, which might be as it were fore-speakers for his entertainment: And thus, when we had fitted him for all turns, we got him such favourable access, upon promise of no dishonourable attempt, that where before he was but over-shooes, he was now over-head-and-eares for an Ass. For now began he to think well of himself, and that he should carry the Bellawaie for Beauty; when he should indeed carry away the Babble for folly. Well thus, having a few days played with his Nose, & having agreed with them of the house to seem ignorant of her name and country: but that she was a suitor at the Court: They knew not wherefore, when, in pity, to pull the poor fool too low on his knees: with holding him off too long from his off or on: We devised one night that he should be at great cost with a supper in her lodging, and there should be certain Gentlewomen, to accompany her & that should offer her what kindness might lie in their powers in the Court. These we brought, as we made him believe, to let them see his favour, and good regard with this rare creature, but came indeed only with a forced modesty, to conceal a laughing at this Coxcomb: not to dwell too long upon circumstances, the Supper was provided, the guests bidden, the Music in tune, the Gentleman welcome, and the Boy played his part in the Q. He had the kiss of the hand, vows and protestations, gifts and presents, and what not, that might be witness of his folly? Now a little before supper understanding (by the imagined wench,) that she was the next morning to go out of town, after solemn promise to bring her on her way (kindly accepted on her part) to supper they went: where there were so many healths drunk to his mistress, that with as much a do as might be drunken to save his credit, he took his leave till morning, and so got him home to his lodging: where, having scarce, power to stand on his feet, he fell down on his bed, where with the help of a little trick that was put in a Cup of wine, he slept till next day noon, when like a great Bear, grunting and blowing, he goeth to the window, where missing his former object (who was now turned Page again) ashamed of his breach of promise, got him to bed again: Where, keeping his chamber for a day or two, and then coming into the Court, seeing some of his favours worn by one of the Pages, The Boy that played the Wag with him, ashamed to demand them, and fearing his folly to be known in the Court: suddenly turned Clown, & with a sighing song, To the tune of, Welladay, wel-adaie, got him in the country, where we never heard more of him. Now Sir, was not this a pretty jest, & well handled?  Ga. 
Yea for wags: I know since myself was a Page, a number of such waggeries. But yet, I thank you for this merry tale, it hath lasted a good while. But now tell me when you had past the Page, in your next course, what merry conceit can you remember, that may last an other mile? that I may thank you for it.  Gri. 
I will Sir, since you take this so well: The next course I fell into was Arms: and there I remember in a Town of Garrison, where I was in pay, the Governor a man whom some ill fortune without desert, had thrown upon an unworthy honour, bring of himself so timorous of nature, as that a base note of a Sagbutte would have made him start, as if he had heard the report of a piece of Ordinance. This wicked Creature, by the means of his Sister (a Minion of our Generals) gotten into this place: where, though it were far enough from the enemy, yet, for that (if the sky fall, we maze have larks; and so, if the Soldiers were weary of their lives, they might come thither for a hanging: for, except we would fall out among ourselves, there was no fear of any thing but Sparrow-blasting; and yet here I know not what cause more than to scar flies,) we held a strong Garrison: For the Governor being better moved, then otherwise minded, fearing some two-legged Rats, should break into the mouths of his bags, did not only environ his fear (for he was compounded all of little better matter) within some seven walls without his Castle, beside Ditches of no little breadth and deepness: and within, some seventeen double and treble walls within the house: where, (as close as a Flea in a flockbed) he kept himself warm from the cold wind. Now, in this close Cabin, (as he used much to contain himself, in casting up of his accounts) one night, after the receipt of money for the pay of the Soldiers, locking up his bags in cheffes of Iron and then laying up the keys under his bed's head, trusting none to lie in his chamber, but a son of his own, who was too young to be a thief, and yet by outward appearance seemed to be weary of the father: with this son, a Page as it was said, (a bastard of his by a Beggar) to whom he gave but sire pence for a days work: With these two (in a Touch by his bed's side) to bed gueth his base worship, and there, having made a reasonable supper took indifferent rest. But, after his first sleep (which was but a kind of starting slumber) he fell into a dream: all of wars, discharging of Ordinance, firing of houses, and cry of people: in which, not a little amazed or frighted, he started out of his bed, with crying out Arm, Arme. The watch (or rather the Guard) hearing this sudden noise, fearing some great Rat had bitten their captain by the Nose, (where there was a rich breakfast for a dozen of lean Mice:) upon the sudden brake in with, Now now my Lord? Well quoth he, with a Ha, as though his foot being in the Chamber pot, he had been afraid of drowning: But as a man in such a maze might somewhat come to himself, broke into this speech. My masters and friends, there is no inexpected great matter of importance, but, unto careful spirits are revealed in their sleeps, that by the providence of God's discretion, they may be prevented. This Town is a place of great regard with our General, the careful government thereof is committed unto my honesty: I would be loath to see the perishing of so many souls, and the seek of so many houses, as by lack of care may fall out, if it be not the better looked unto: Now, what stratagems are in band we know not: The enemy is subtle and strong, we cannot be too wary of a mischief, you know: Had-I-wist is a fool in all courses, and I would be loath to lose my credit, in slacking my care in the charge committed unto me: to be short, I was this night much troubled in my sleep with sharp wars, firing of houses, the report of the Canon, and great cry of the people: and the vision, as it was very dreadful, so it continued long, and therefore being persuaded, that it giveth me warning of some mischief intended against this town, so would I be glad in what I may to prevent it; And therefore call hither the captain of the watch unto me. This, when he had stammeringly in a pitiful fear brought out, with a Palsey-shaking-hand, having buttoned up his Doublet, called for his Armour (which all of Musket proof he put on, with all the haste 't might be) and being furnished to meet with a whole swarm of flies, (with his double guard) out he goes and meets the captain in his Hall: where, the wind blowing high, and making a noise in the house, he stayed & asked him, hark quoth he, do you not hear the noise of some shot? Oh no, Sir quoth he, it is the wind in the Chimney. Oh, is it so said he, then good enough. But let me tell you, I have had a shrewd dream to night: and therefore am willing to walk the Round, to see how the Soldiers keep watch. My Lord, quoth the captain, you shall need to doubt nothing upon my life I warrant you. It is now towards day, and the watch is upon discharge; I pray you keep your Chamber, and take your rest. Well, quoth he, if it be so, I know you careful and honest, and I will leave all to your charge, till I come abroad: And so leaving the captain, retires himself into his chamber: where, keeping on his Armour, here sets him down in a chair, and there not trusting his bed any longer for that time, having taken a nap or two; the watch upon their discharge, gave the captain a volley of shot; the noise whereof awaking this gallant man of two Arms: Do, quoth he, to the Guard, one of ye know, what shot is this? who bringing him word of the discharge of the watch, he was a little at quiet. But the day being a Saints day, when usually the Country people used to make such pastime, as fitted the condition of their humours: somewhat early from a Wood under a hill, which fronted the Town, and there with Drums and mischiefs (and a few loose shot) came toward the town, to make the Governor merry, with a Maie-game and a Morris. Now such a Wag as myself minding to make myself and some of my friends merry with a jest, having intelligence of the same the night before, yet seeming ignorant thereof, came into the Town, with Arm, Arm, for the enemy is at hand. This cry being brought to the governor, (he in a cold sweat, what with fear, and the weight of his Armour) called presently for his Captains, gave every one their charge what to do: which done, providing as well as he might for one: Barricadod all his gates without, and all his doors within: And in the midst of a Love-roome, within a wall of twenty yards thick of stone, Barricadod himself within a great wall of earth, which was made for a Furnace to cast metal in for Ordinance: There, overhead and ears in fear sits he with his two Pages. The door fast locked to him, till anon, the people being come in with their merry show: went a messenger from the captain of the watch, to entreat his Lordship to be partaker of the Pastime, and to entreat the people with some kindness. The messenger being come to the door and let in, before he could deliver his message: Well quoth he, (imagining the enemies before the walls) What is the parley that he offereth thee? Parley my Lord, quoth the Messenger, it is a Pastime: There is no enemy, all friends: Your poor neighbours are come to make you merry with a Morris-daunce, and a Maie-game. Yea, quoth he, is it none other? and with looking in his Purse, and giving him just nothing: It is well; stay awhile, Boy, give me my sword and my Target, that my neighbours shall see how ready I was to meet the enemy upon the least Alarm. And with these words, causing the Trumpet to sound a merry Dote for joy of the deliverance of his fear: Out he comes among them, and like an Ass (as ever man was) shows himself. After, a little gratulation (leaving them in their sports) got him again into his lodging, and there calling for his breakfast, put off his Armour, and went to bed again: where, let him lie till I raise him.  Ga. 
Is it possible that there is such a 〈◊〉 in the world?  Gri. 
Yes, and they wonder all that know him how he should come to have charge of men, that would be afraid of a shadow, and be Governor of a Town that would run into a bench hole. But the jest was in the Maie-game: (if you had seen it) For they had made a Lord and a Lady: and the Fool was like him as one could be like an other. But it was but a Tale, and therefore I will not trouble you any further with it.  Ga. 
Gramercy heartily, thou art as good as thy word, it is a merry tale and well told. But if I may not trouble thee too much let me hear one more, that you light on in your next course.  Ga. 
With a good will Sir. The next was, (as I said before) after I left the wars, I fell again to my book, and studied the Law, where I heard a pretty jest betwixt a Lawyer and two Clients, but it was but short.  Ga. 
No matter: Short or long, I will thank thee for it, and therefore I pray thee out with it.  Gri. 
Why Sir, than thus it was: There were two Country men rich Farmers, fat in Purses: (how lean soever in the face) These two, having in some twenty years or more (with keeping of bare houses, and wearing of bad clothes, selling of wheat, and spending of Rye,) scraped together more money than many better men: It fell out, that (about or a little after mowing-time) these two dwelling near together, and (as it seemed) each one of them nigh enough unto himself: Fell at controversy about a Hey-cock, the value whereof (by the judgement of the Parson, and the Constable, and other of the Ancients of the Parish) could not amount to above two and twentie-pences: yet such being the stubborness of both their stomachs, that no means would be made to bring them to agreement: To Law they would for the trial of their right. And now the Angels that had been long lain in their Chests, must use their wings for the accomplishing of their wills. counsellors were retained, attorneys were feed, and Solicitors were not forgotten: Days of hearing delayed, demurs, and injunctions, (and I know not what diuises were used) from one Court to another to keep them in their courses so long, till in the end the judge (of more conscience than the pleader) noting the long-time of their suit, the nature of their controversy, and the substance of the matter, when he had heard all that could be said on either side, made this open speech in the whole Court. Ye two (masters) that have made a long harvest of a little Torn, and have spent a great deal of money about a little matter: the cause being such, as is more to be laughed at, then lamented, Let me tell you a little short tale, and so I will have done with you.  
There were on a time, two men went a fishing for Oysters upon the Sands at a low Ebb: the one was blind, and the other lame: The blindman carried the lameman: so when they had gone a little way, they found an Oyster, which the lameman espied, and showed the blindman, with guiding of his hand to take it up. When he had taken it up, the lameman challenged it to be his, because he first saw it: The blindman would have it, because he had taken it out of the Sands: Thus arguing the case, in conscience who should have it, There meets them a Lawyer, who, hearing the controversy betwixt them, made this short end betwixt them. Give me, quoth he the Oyster, which, when he had gotten into his hands, he picked out the fish and gave each of them a shell, and went his way. So you two, having made the Lawyer's rich with your wilfulues, may repent ye of your follies, & go home & agree together like neighbours, & keep your money in your purses: for I am weary to hear more of it. The men ashamed of their follies, fulfilled his commandment: went home, cashéerd their counsel, let fall their actions, went home & lived like honest good fellows. Now how like you of this for a Lawyer's jest?  Ga. 
I will serve to warn a wise man how he plays the fool with his purse. But one more of your next course and then I will trouble you no more.  Gri. 
Well Sir, I will satisfy your request: The next course was the Farmer, in which time, I remember a pretty jest, which, if you have not heard before, will surely make you laugh: But howsoever it be, I will tell it you, and thus it was. A neighbour of mine, in good case to live, though not very wealthy, and yet such a one as with his formality on a Hollidaie at Church, would have been taken for the Hedborough of the Parish.  
This honest substantial man, drawing one day a Mill-poole, among other fish, lighted on a very great Eel: which, having got on land, he brought into his house, and put it with small Eels into a Cistern, where, feeding of it every Morning and Evening, he made (as it were) an Idol of it. For, there passed not a day wherein he had not that care of his Eel, that it seemed, that he had not of greater and better matters. This Eel, being taken about Candelmas (he meant to keep and feed till Lent following) when he meant to present him to his Landlord, for a great gratulation: In the meantime, he never went out of doors without giving warning to his wife and his servants, to look well to his Eel. When he came in, how doth mine Eel? when were you with mine Eel? who looked to mine Eel? I charge you look well to mine Eel. Now his wife, a jolly stout Dame, who made more reckoning of honesty, than either beauty or wisdom (for she was troubled with neither) had in her house a young Pie: (which we call a Magot-a-Pie) This Bird, having been hatched in a nest hard under her chamber window, she chanced to take into her education: and being one that loved to hear a tongue wag; either her own, her Gossips, her Maids, or her Pies: For if one were still, the other must be walking: And when they were all upon the going, there was no still-piece of Music: It fell out that this Goodwife, (not a little displeased at her Goose-mans' folly) in such so much rare over the fish, that the flesh was but a little set by: one day; (when her Asseband was gone forth) sitting with her maid at the wheel: (so full at her heart, that yet her tongue would have swelled, if it had not broke out at her mouth, began thus to fall in hand with her maidservant.) I dare not depose for her virginity, but, as I said, her maid: she fell thus to break her mind unto. Wench quoth the, dost thou not see what a stir thy master keeps with a scurvy Eel? In good earnest a little thing would make me take her out of the Cistern, and put her in a Pie, or eat her some way or other: For better have one chiding for all, then have such a do as we have about her. In truth mistress, quoth she, (as one whose mouth hung very fitting for such a piece of meat) If it please you, I will quickly rid you of this trouble. My master is rid to your Landlords, and there I know he will tarry to night: if it please you, I will fetch her out of the Cistern, and kill her, and slay her, and put her in a Pie, and you may dispatch her ere he come home; or save a piece for him when he is quiet after his chiding. Content wench quoth she, I pray thee dispatch her quickly: I warrant you, quoth she, for sooth with a 〈◊〉. Thus was the Eels death approaching, and the matter thoroughly enacted. Now the Pie being made and baked, and set on the Table, and betwixt the maid and her Dame (or mistress) brought to such a pass, that there was very little left for her master. The Magot-a-Pye like a vile Bird (that would keep no counsel, but duly would use her tongue, to talk of all that she saw or heard) no sooner saw the goodman come into the house, (but as she was taught to speak) began with welcome home master: (and then more than she was taught, she fell to prattle) No master, my Dame hath eaten the Eel: my Dame hath eaten the Eel: my Dame hath eaten the great Eel. The goodman remembering his fish, began now to ask his wife, Now doth mine Eel? What means the Bird, to talk thus of eating the great Eel Tush Husband, quoth she, warm you I pray you, and go to bed. It is cold and late, talk of your Eel to morrow: No quoth he, I will not go to bed, till I have seen mine Eel: and there within a bodily fear of that which was fallen out, goes to the Cistern, and there finding his Eel gone, comes in again, as dead at heart as a Stockfish, (and yet resolved to brawl out of reason) Comes out: Why hoh (the goodwife ready to burst with laughing, and yet keeping it in with a feigned sigh) sits down in a chair, and hangs the head, as though she had had the mother: The maid having wit enough, (to make a fool of a tame-goose,) meets her master, and catching him in her arms: cries out, but softly master, be a man, and move not all. My dame you know loves you well, and it may be she breeds, and bring you a boy worth twenty bushels of Eels: say she had a mind to it, and hath eaten it: if you should seem to chide for it, it may be a mean to cast her away, and that she goes with: And therefore say nothing of it, let it go. For indeed it is gone: sayst thou so my Girl, quoth he, I thank thee: hold thee, there is a Letter for thee, for thy good counsel, I warrant thee all shall be well. Then in a goes to his wife, & finds her in her chair sitting as if were heavily: comes to her and takes her by the hand, with how now wife? be of good cheer, and take no thought, much good do thy heart with her, take the rest that are left, if thou have a mind to them I pray thee. With this, she (as it were awaked out of a trance) said, I thank you good husband, and so after a few home-complaints, to bed they went, where they agreed so well, that the next morning he had his part (though it were the least) of that was left, and glad of it to, and so without more ado, goes about his business. But no sooner was he out of doors, but the mistress and the maid, went to the bird the Pie, and taking her out of the Cage, plucked all the feathers off from her head, and left her as bare as a bald Coote, which in the cold winter was very uncomfortable: Which done, she was put into the Cage again, with these words, Tell tales again of the Eel, do:  
Now about dinnertime, comes in again the goodman, and brings in with him a neighbour of his, with a good face, but a bald head, that he had almost no hair on it. Now the Pie being let out of the Cage, no sooner sees this man put off his hat, but she skips on his shoulder and says: Oh, your head hath been pulled aswell as mine, for telling of tales. You have told my master, how my dame eat the great Eel: (and so she would do to any that she saw bald, that came into the house.) And was not this a merry jest of the Pie and an Eel?  Ga. 
I think I have heard it long ago, but not as thou hast told it: and therefore as it is, I thank thee for it. And now since it is not far to the Town, I pray thee let me try a little of thy wit, in the answers of a few questions that I will put unto thee?  Gri. 
With all my heart Sir, I am for you at this time.  Ga. 
I pray thee, who was the happiest man that ever thou knewest?  Gri. 
My Lord Governors Foole.  Ga. 
And why?  Gri. 
Because his master favours him, and none dare hurt him: he fares well, and sleeps well, wears good clothes, and takes no pains.  Ga. 
Countest thou this a happiness?  Gri. 
For a lazy spirit, but not for myself.  Ga. 
Why, how wouldst thou be happy?  Gri. 
In a feeling of God's grace, in sufficiency of ability, to live without borrowing: in wit, to discern justly: in Conscience, to deal truly: in an honest kind wife, gracious children, honest servants, faithful friends, and quiet neighbours: Neither desire of life, nor fear of death, but a scorn of the one, and contented mind in the other.  Ga. 
Well said: But all this while, I hear thee speak of no master.  Gri. 
Oh no Sir, for to a free spirit, there is no greater misery than bondage: And yet, a kind master, is a kind of father: where love breeding obedience, maketh a servant like a Son.  Ga. 
And what sayest thou of a kind mistress?  Gri. 
With a kind master, they are the heart's comforter, and they are like unto a pair of Gloves, that fit both hands.  Ga. 
But couldst thou please both?  Gri. 
If I know both.  'Gan 
Then let me put thee in comfort, of me thou shalt have rather a father then a friend to nourish thy good spirit & of my wife, rather a sister then a mistress to make much of thee for my sake.  Gr. 
I thank you Sir, and for the good I see in you, and the good I hope of you, I will try my Fortune with you.  Ga. 
And do not think it shall be the worst. Come on, you shall go to the town, and there dine with me, and so home.  Gri. 
I will attend you.  
FINIS.