The Gentle Craft. A DISCOURSE Containing many matters of Delight, very pleasant to be read: Showing what famous men have been SHOEMAKERS in time passed in this Land, with their worthy deeds and great Hospitality. Declaring the cause why it is called the GENTLE CRAFT: and also how the Proverb first grew;  
A Shoemaker's son is a Prince borne. T. D.  

With gentleness judge you,  
At nothing here grudge you;  
The merry Shoemaker's delight in good sport:  
What here is presented,  
Be there with contented;  
And as you do like it, so give your report.   Haud curo invidiam. 
LONDON: Printed for ROBERT BIRD, 1637.   

To all the good Yeomen of the GENTLE CRAFT.  

YOu that the gentle craft profess, list to my words both more & less  
And I shall tell you many things, of worthy and renowned Kings▪  
And diverse Lords and knights also that were shoemakers long ago,  
Some of them in their distress, delighted in this business.  
And some, for whom great wait was laid, did save their lives by this same trade,  
Other some, in sport and game, delighted much to learn the same,  
No other Trade in all the Land they thought so fit unto their hand;  
For evermore they still did find, that shoemakers bore a gallant mind,  
Men they were of high conceit, the which wrought many a merry feat  
Stout of courage were they still, and in their weapons had great skill,  
Travellers by sea and land, each country guise to understand.  
Wrong they wrought not any man, with reason all things did they sca●.  
Good houses kept they evermore, relieving both the sick and poor.  
In law no money would they spend, their quarrels friendly would they end  
No malice did they bear to any, but showed great favour unto many;  
Offences soon they would forgive, they would not in contention live  
Thus in joy they spent their days, with pleasant songs and roundelays  
And God did bless them with content; sufficient for them he sent,  
And never yet did any know, a shoemaker a begging go:  
Kind are they one to another, using each stranger as his brother.  
Thus lived shoemakers of old, as ancient writers have it told:  
And thus shoemakers still would be, so fame from them shall never flee▪    

To all courteous Readers, health.  
HOw Saint Hugh was son unto the renowned King of Powis, a noble Britain borne, who in the prime of his years loved the fore Virgin Winifred, who was the only daughter of Donwallo, which was the last King that ever reigned in Tegina, which is now called Flint-shire But she refusing all offers of love, was only pleased with a religious life. Her father was sent to Rome, & died; whose Lady left her life long before. This Virgin therefore for forsook her father's Princely palace in Pont Varry, and made her whole abiding in the most sweet pleasant Valley of Sich●a●nt, and lived there solitarily, and careless of all company or comfort. It chanced that in Summer's heat, this fair Virgin being greatly distressed for lack of drink, and not knowing where to get any, there sprung up suddenly a crystal stream of most sweet and pleasant water out of the hard ground, whereof this Virgin did daily drink: Unto the which God himself gave so great a virtue, that many people having been washed therein, were healed of diverse and sundry infirmities wherewith they were borne. Moreover, round about this well, where this Virgin did use to walk, did grow a kind of Moss, which is of a most sweet savour, and the colour thereof is as fresh in Winter as in Summer; so that lying thereon, you would suppose yourself to be on a bed of Down, perfumed with most precious odours? And what of all this; Marry read the book and you shall know; but read nothing except you read all. And why so? Because the beginning shows not the middle, and the middle shows not the latter end.  
And so farewell.   

The pleasant History of S. HUGH; and first of all his most constant love to the fair Virgin WINIFRED.  

COnquering and most imperious Love, having seized on the heart of young sir Hugh, all his wits were set on work, how for to compass the love of the fair Virgin Winifred, whose disdain was the chief cause of his care having, received many infinite sorrows for her sake: but as a stream of water being stopped, overfloweth the bank; so smothered desire doth burst out into a great flame of fire, which made this malcontented Lover to seek some means to appease the stri●e of his contentious thoughts, whereupon he began to encourage himself: Tush Hugh, let not a few froward words of a woman dismay thee, for they love to be entreated, and delight to be wooed, though they would make the world believe otherwise; for their denials proceed more of niceness than niggardliness, refusing that they would feignest have. What if sometimes Winifred frown on thee? yet her favours may exceed her frowardness. The Sun is sometimes overcast with clouds, so that his brightness is not seen. In wars the ●orer the fight is, the greater is the glory of the victory; and the harder a woman is to be won, the sweeter is her love when it is obtained: wherefore I'll once again try my fortune, and see what success my suit shall find. On this resolution sir Hugh returned to Winifred, greeting her thus: Now fair Lady, having slept away the remembrance of your sharp answers; I come again in a new concest, to revive an old suit, and to see if the change of the ●ay will ye da change of dolours. Truly Sir Hugh (quoth she) if with the change of the day you have changed your opinion: your dolour will been driven away well enough: but as touching your suit it shall be n●●dlesse to repeat it because I am not willing to prefer it.  
Stay there (quoth s●● Hugh) I will prefer it, so that you will accept it. Now quoth she, I will accept it, if you will prefer it; in sending it back to the place from whence it proceeded, and I would to God I could send you away as soon as your suit. Why then belike I am not welcome, said sir Hugh. Yes quoth she, as welcome to me, as a storm to a distressed Mariner: I muse greatly that reason will not rule you, nor words win you from your wilfulness: if you were as weary to woo as I am weary to hear you, I am persuaded that long since you would have ceased your vain suit. You think by these persuasions to turn my opinion, but as well you may think that you may quench fire with oil: therefore I pray you good sir Hugh, be not so tedious unto me, nor troublesome to yourself.  
Come, come, quoth he, all this will not serve your turue, ponder with thyself Winifred that thou art fair, O that thou wert as favourable; thy beauty hath bound me to be thy servant, and never to cease till I see another obtain thee, or myself be possessed of my hearts content. Thou art a King's daughter, and I a prince's son, stain not the glory of true Nobility with the foul sin of obstinacy, but be thou as kind, as thou art courtly, and gentle as thou art noble, & then shall our strife soon end.  
Winifred perceiving that the farther off she was to grant love, the more eager he was to desire it, shifted him off thus: Sir although your overhastinesse drive me into the greater doubtfulness, yet let me entreat you, if you love me, to give me one month respite to consider on this matter, and it may be that upon my better deliberation it shall be pleasing unto you, and not at all discontent me.  
Fair love, quoth he, far be it from my heart to deny so kind a request; I am content to stay a month from thy sight, were it two or three, upon condition that thou wouldst then grant me thy good will: three months, although it be very long, yet it will come at last, and could be content for that time to be dead for thy sake, in somuch that my life might be renewed by thy love.  
Nay (quoth Winifred) stay three months and stay for ever: by this a Maid may see how ready men are upon a light occasion to take long days, whose loves are like a Ferne bush, soon set one fire, and soon consumed, and seeing it is so, in faith sir Hugh I do mean to try you better before I trust you.  
Pardon me fair Winifred, said sir Hugh, if my tongue do outslip my wit: in truth I speak but to please thee, though to displease myself: but I pray thee, let it not be three hours, nor three quarters of an hour, if thou wilt.  
Nay, nay (quoth she) your first word shall stand: after three months come to me again, and then you shall know my mind to the full, and so good sir Hugh be gone: but if I do ever hear from thee, or see thee betwixt this time and the time prefixed, I will for ever hereafter blot thy name out of my book of Remembrances, and never yield thee that courtesy which thou at this time so earnestly intreatest for.  
Sir Hugh upon these words departed betwixt hope and dread, much like to a man committing a trespass, that stayed for the sentence of life or death.  
O unhappy man, quoth he, how hath my over slippery tongue lengthened the time of my sorrow: she of herself most courteously requested of me but one months' stay, and I most willingly & undiscréetly added there to eight weeks more of misery: much like the Hind, that having a knife given him to pair his nails, did there with murder himself.  
Now I could wish that the Sun had Eagles wings, swiftly to fly through the fair ●●rmament, and finish six days in one days time: With that he began to count the days and hours that were in three months, falling (in a manner) to despair with himself when he found them so many in number: and therewithal melancholily and sadly he went to his father's house, where his brother Griffith found by his counttenance the perfect map of a pensive lover: whereupon he said unto him.  
Why how now brother? hath Winifred's fair beauty so greatly wounded you, as you cannot speak a merry word to your friends, but sit in a corner, as if you were tongueless like a Stock: tush brother, women are like shadows, for the more a man follows then the faster mey run away: but let a man turn his course, and then they will presently follow him. What man? pluck up a good heart: for there are more women now, then lived in the time of our old father Adam.  
O, said Hugh, were there ten thousand times more than there are now, what were that to me, if Winifred he unkind? yet is she the oil that still maintains she lamp of my light, and without her there is nothing comfortable to my sight.  
Then (replied Griffith) you are as much troubled in love, as a Goat in an ague, and as blind as a Fly in October, that will stand still while a man cuts off his head. Come, go a hunting with me, that will drive away your overfond conceits, and you shall see that these three months will come upon you as a quarter day upon a poor man that hath never a penny ready towards the payment of his rent.   

CHAP. II.  
How beautiful Winifred being overmuch superstitious, forsook her father's wealth and lived poorly by a springing fountain, from whence no man could get her to go; which Spring to this day is called Winifred's▪ Will.  
Winifred, who had but of late years with her own father received the Christian Faith, became so superstitious, that she thought the wealth of the world for ever would have been an heavy burden for hersoule, and have drawn her mind from the love of her Maker, wherefore forsaking all manner of earthly pomp she lived along time very poorly, hard by the side of a most pleasant springing well: from which place neither her friends by ●ntreaty, nor her fees by violence could bring her: which sir Hugh hearing, he went thither immediately after unto her, which was the time limited by them both, & finding her mind altogether altered, he wondered not a little what she meant. And when he aproached near unto the place where she safe, all s●●ed in simple attire, he sa●●●ed her with these words.  
All health to fair Winifred: I trust (my dear) that now the Deffin●es have yielded a convenient oporunity for me to finish my long begun suit, with the end of my former sorrows. Long and tedious hath the winter of my woes been, which with nipping care hath blasted the beauty of my youthful delight, which is like never again to flourish, except the bright Sunshine of thy favour do renew the same: therefore (fair love) remember thy promise made unto me, and put me no more off with unpleasing delays.  
She (which all this while safe solemnly reading in her book) lent little ear unto his words; which he perceiving, plucked her by the arm saying: Wherefore answereth not my fair Love, to her dearest perplexed friend?  
What would you have, quoth she▪ can I never be quiet for you? is there no corner of content in this world to be ●ound?  
Yes Winifred, said he, content dwells here or no where, content me and ● will content thee. If my content may be thy content then read this book, and there rests content, said Winifred; and if thou refuse this, then think not to find content on earth.  
Sir Hugh replied, What, is this all the reward I shall have for obeying your heart-cutting commandment Have I thus long hoped, and find no better ha●? You wot well that it is now three long months since these eyes took comfort of thy beauty, and since that time that my bleeding heart hath received joy in thy great gentleness.  
I have forgot you quite, said she, what three months is that you speak of? for my part I assure you, that it is as far out of my mind, as you are from the mount of Calvary.  
Fair Winifred (quoth he) have you forgotten me, and there withal my love which was so effectually grounded opon your good liking? you told me, that now I should receive an answer to my content.  
O Sir (quoth she) you have stayed overlong, and your words are in my hearing, as unprofitable as snow in harvest: my love is fled to heaven, from whence no earthly man can fetch it, and therefore build not in vain hope, nor do thou deceive thyself by following an unprofitable snite: if ever I love earthly man, it shall be thee, insomuch as thou hast deserved an earthly Lady's love; but my love is settled for ever, both in this world, and in the world to come: and this I most earnestly entreat ●hee to take for a final answer.  
With that Sir Hugh turning his head aside, wept most bitterly, and in going away, he glanced his eye still back again after his love, saying to himself: O unconstant women, wavering and uncertain, how many sorrows are fond men drawn into by your wily enticements? Who are also swallowed up in the gaping gulf of care, while they listen after the heart-liking sound of your enchanting voices. O Winifred, full little did I think that so hard a heart could have been shrouded under so sweet and loving a countenance: but seeing that my good will is thus unkindly requited, I will altogether abhor the sight of women, and I will seek the world throughout, but I will find out some blessed plot, where no kind of such corrrupt cattle do br●ed.  
Hereupon all in a hot hasty humour he made preparation for to go beyond the Seas, suiting himself after the nature of a melancholy man; and arriving in France, he took his journey towards Paris, which city (at that time) was well replenished with many goodly fair women, as will as Britain, though to his thinking nothing so lovely, but nevertheless what they wanted in beauty, they had in bravery: which when sir Hugh saw, he suddenly departed from that place, counting it the most pernicious place in the whole Country; and from thence he went into Italy, where he found such ●●ately Dames, & lovely Ladies, whom Nature had adorned with all perfection of outward beauty, whose sight put him again in remembrance of his fair Love, which like fresh fuel newly augmented the flame of his burning desire: O (sal● he) how unhappy am I to be haunted by these heart-formenting f●en●s, bewitching the eyes of simple men with Angel▪ like faces, & like enchanting circes, bring them to a Labyrinth of continual woes.  
O Winifred▪ thy pée●●●nesse hath bred my dangers, & done thyself no good at all Thou sittest weeping by a Crystal stream, where is no need of water, while I wander up & down, seeking to forget thee, thou never remember'st me; having drawn the fountain of mine eyes dry through thy discourteous disdain. Might I never see any of thy sex, my heart would be more at quiet, but every place where I come puts me in mind of thy perfections, & therewithal renews my pain: but I will from hence as soon as possible I can, though not so soon as I would for fear le●● these sweet serpents should sting me to death with delight.  
Hereupon he passed on so far, that at length he came to a City sti●●ted in the Sea, and compassed with she wild Ocean. Here (quoth sir Hugh) is a fit place for melancholy men; where it is supposed no women do line, insomuch that their delicate bodies cannot abide the sa●t favour of the mounting waves: if it be so, there will I make my residence, counting it the most blessed place under heaven. But he was no sooner set on land, but he beheld whole troops of lovely Ladies, passing up and down in most sumptuous attire, framing their gestures answerable to their beauties and comely personages.  
Nay now I see (quoth sir Hugh) that the whole world is infected with these deceiving Sirens, & therefore in vaine●st is for me to seek for that I shall never find; and therewithal sought for some house wherein he might hide himself from them. But by that time he was set to supper, dames a ●rue of courtlike dames richly attired, and with wanton eyes and pleasant speech they boldly sat down by him; and perceiving him to be a stranger, they were not strange to allure him to their delight: Wherefore while hesateat meat, they yielded him such mirth as their best skill could afford; and stretching their nimble fingers, playing on their sweet sounding instruments, they sung this ensuing song, with such clear and quavering voices, as had been sufficient to allure chasthearte● Xenocrates unto folly: and still as they did sing, sir Hugh answered in the last live, insomuch as it seemed to be a dialogue between them; and in this manner following the women began their song.  

The Courtesans song of Venice.  Ladies. 

Welcome to Venice, gentle courteous Knight,  
Cast off fond care, and entertain content.  
If any here be gracious in thy sight,  
Do but request and she shall soon consent:  
Loves wings are swift, then be not thou so slow,   Hugh. 
Oh that fair Winifred would once say so.  Ladies. 

With in my lap lie down thy comely head,  
And let me struck those golden locks of thine,  
Look on the tears that for thy sake I shed,  
And be thou Lord of any thing is mine,  
One gentle look upon thy love bestow.   Hugh. 
Oh that fair Winifred would once say so.  Ladies. 

Embrace with joy thy Lady in thine arms,  
And with all pleasures pass to thy delight:  
If thou dost think the light will work our harms,  
Come, come to bed, and welcome all the night,  
There shalt thou find, what lovers ought to know.   Hugh. 
Oh that fair Winifred would once say so.  Ladies. 

Give me those pearls as pledges of thy love,  
Add with those pearls the favour of thy heart:  
Do not from me thy sugared breath remove,  
That double comfort gives to every part.  
Nay stay sir Knight, from hence thou shalt not go.   Hugh. 
Oh that fair Winifred would once say so.   
When sir Hugh had heard this Song, and therewithal noted their wanton gestures, he began to grow suspicious of their proffers, & thinking in himself, that either they thought his destruction, as the Sirens did to Ulysses; or that they intended to make a prey of his purse, as Lais did of h●riouers: and therefore supposing some adder to lie lurking under the fairest ours of their proffered pleasures, he determined the next morning after (with speed) to depart from the City. So when he had with good discretion avoided their company, while he lay tormented with restless thoughts on his still tossed bed, began thus to meditate.  
Now I well see mine own vanity, that is as ill pleased with women's favours as their frowns; how often have I with heart sighing sorrow complained of women's unkindness, making large invectives against their discourtesies? and yet here where I find women as kind as they are fair, & courteous as they are comely, I run into a world of doubts, & so suspicious of their fair proffers, as I was earnest to win Winifred's favour: it may be (quoth he) that it is the nature of this gentle soil to breed as kind creatures, as the Country of Britain breeds c●y dames.  
Undoubtedly, had my love first taken life in this kind and courteous Climate, she would have been as kind as they. If I misjudge not of their gentleness, because I have always been enured to scornfulness; me thinks they are too fair to be harlots, and too bold to be honest, but as they have no cause to hate me that never hurt them, so have they little cause to love me, being a far stranger borne, to them a man altogether unknown.  
But it may be that this time of the year is only unfortunate for loners; as it is certainly known to all men that every season of the year br●●ds a sundry commodity, for Roses flourish in june, & Gillyflowers in August, and neither of them both do so in the cold winter. Such as seek for fruit on the sapless trees in the month of january, lose their labours as well as their longing: then why should I covet to gather fruits of love, when I see that love is not yet ripe? Now let me observe the season that yields the sweetest comfort to love sick persons, and so I may reap the joyful fruits of hearts content: I will therefore return to my former love, hoping now to find her as friendly, as at my departure she was froward; I will once again entreat her, and speak her exceeding fair; for with many drops the hardest stone is pierced, so also with many importunate entreaties a ●●inty hart may be moved to some remorse. I take no pleasure at all in any place, but only in her presence with the which she continually graceth a running stream; far be it from her mind, to kiss her own shadow in the christ all spring, & to be in love with her own similitude, for so she might be spoiled as Narcissus was: for it is commonly seen, that sudden danger follows fond opinions: so with this and the like thoughts he dro●e out the night, till the Sun's bright eye began to peep at his chamber window, at what time dressing himself he went to the water side, where he found a ship ready to transport rich merchandise into the Western Lands in the which ●ir Hugh became a passenger. But when they were put off to sea, there arose so sudden a storm, and of long continuance, that no man looked for life but expected every moment present death, so that the Mariners quite forsook the tackle, and the Master the helm, committing themselves to God, and their ship to the mercy of the swelling ●eas, by whose ●urious waves they were sometime tossed up towards heaven, anon thrown down to the deep of hell: in which extremity sir Hugh made this lamentation: O unhappy man, how eagerly doth mischance pursue me at my h●●les for betwixt my love on the land, and danger of life 〈◊〉 the sea, it hath made me the wretchedst man breathing on earth.  
Here we may see that miseries have power over men, and not men over miseries. Now must I die far from my friends, and be drenthed in the deep, where my body must feed the fishes that swim in the rich bottom of the Sea. Therefore fair Winifred, the chief ground of my grieves, here will I sacrifice my last tears unto thee, and pour forth my complaints.  
Oh how happy should I count myself, if those fishes which shall live on my body's food, might be meat for my Love! it grieveth me much to think that my poor bleeding heart, wherein thy picture is engraven, should be rend in pieces in such greedy sort; but thrice accursed be that fish, that first setteth his nimble f●●th thereon, except he swim there with unto my Love, and so deliver it as a present token from me.  
Had my troubled stars allotted me to leave my life in the pleasant valley of Sichnant, than no doubt but my Love with her fair hands would have closed up my dying eyes, and perhaps would have rung a peal of sorrowful sighs for my sake.  
By this time was the weather▪ beat Bark driven upon the shore of Sicily, where the men had safety of their lives, although with loss of their ships, and spoil of their goods: but they had no sooner shaken off their dropping wet garments on the shore, but that they were assaulted by a sort of monstrous men that had but one eye a piece, and that placed in the midst of their foreheads, with whom the tempest heaten soldiers had a fierce fight, in which many of them were slain, and diverse of them fled away to save themselves; so that in the end sir Hugh was left alone to Fortune in a double Fray: and having at last quite overcome all his adversaries, he went his way, and so passing up the country in dark night, in the end he lost his way, and was so far entered into the dark wilderness, that he could not devose with himself which way ha should take to get out, where he was so cruelly affrighted with the dreadful cry of fierce Lions, Bears, and wild Bulls, and many thousand more of other dangerous & cruel ravenous beasts, which with greedy mouths ranged all about for their prey: in which distress, sir Hugh got him up to the top of a tree, and being there, broke out into this passion.  
O Lord (quoth he) hast thou preserved me from the great peril and danger of the Sea, & delivered me out of the cruel hands of monstrous men, and now suffer me to be devoured of wild beasts? Alas, that my soul sins should bring so many sundry sorrows on my head.  
But for all this may I thank unkind Winifred, whose disdain hath wrought my destruction. Woe worth the time that ever my eyes beheld her be witching beauty. But hereby we may see that the path is smooth that leadeth to danger. But why blame I the blameless Lady? Alas, full little did she know of my desperate courses in travel. But such is the fury that haunts frantic Lovers, that never fear danger until it fall, and light upon their own heads.  
But by that time that the day began to appear he perceived an huge Elephant with stiff joints stalking towards him, and presently after came a f●ery tongue Dragon, which suddenly assaulted the peaceful Elephant, in whose subtle encounter the wrathful Dragon with his long wring tail did so shackle the hinder feet of the Elephant together, that like a prisoner fast fettered in irons, he could not stir a ●oot for his life; what time the furious Dragon never left till he had thrust his stender head into the Elephants long h●ked nose, out of which he never once drew it, until by sucking the Elephant's blood, he had made him so feeble and so weak, that he could stand no longer upon his feet; at which time the fainting Elephant with a grievous cry, fell down dead upon the Dragon: so with the fall of his weighty body, burst the Dragon in pieces, and so killed him; whereby their bloods being mingled together, it stained all the ground where they both lay, changing the green grass into a rich scarlet colour.  
This strange sight betwixt these two beasts, caused good sir Hugh to judge that nature had planted betwixt them a deadly hatred, the fire whereof could not be quenched, but by shedding of both their heart's blood. Now when sir Hugh saw that grim Death had ended their quarrel, and perceiving no danger near, he came down from the tree, and sought to find out some inhabited town, but being entangled in the woods, like the Centaur in his Labyrinth, he could by no means get out, but wandered in unknown passages, leading him to many perils.  
At last another Elephant met him, who according to his kind nature never left him till he had conducted him out of all danger, and brought him out of the Wilderness into the way again; whereby sir Hugh at the length came in sight of a Port-town, where in four days after he embarked himself in a ship bound for Britain, and at last obtained the sight of his native Country, where he arrived in safety, though in very poor sort, coming on shore at a place called Harwich, where for want of money he greatly lamented, and made much ●●oane. But meeting with a merry journeyman Shoemaker dwelling in that town, and after some conference had together, they both agreed to travel in the Country, where we will leave them, and speak of Winifred, and of her great troubles and calamities.   

CHAP. II.  
How fair Winifred was imprisoned, and condemned to dye for her Religion: and how sir Hugh became a Shoemaker, and afterward came to suffer death with his Love: showing also how the Shoemaker's tools came to be called Saint Hugh's bones, and the trade of Shoomaking, The Gentle Craft.  
A Non after that the Doctrine of Christ was made known in Britain, and that the worship of heathen Idols was forbidden, yet many troubles did the Christians endure by diverse the outrageous blood-shirstinesse of wolvish Tyrants, that by the way of invasion set f●●ting in this Land, as it fell out in the days of Dioclesian, that with bloody minds persecuted such as would not yield to the Pagan law: amongst which the Virgin Winifred was one, who for that she continued constant in faith, was long imprisoned. During which time Sir Hugh wrought in a Shoemaker's shop, having learned that trade through the covetous directions of a kind journeyman, where he remained the space of one whole year, in which time h●● had gotten himself good appatells, and every thing comely and decent. Not withstanding though he were now contented to forget his birth, yet could he not forget the beauty of his Love, who although she had utterly forsaken him, yet could he not alter his affection from her, because indeed affections alter not like a palefaced coward. The wildest Bull (quoth he) is tamed being tied to a F●g-trée; and the joyest Dame (in time) may yield like the stone Charchaedo●●s, which sparkles like fire, and yet melts at the touch of soft war. Though Roses have prickles, yet they are gathered; and though women seem froward, yet will they show themselves kind and friendly. Neither is there any ware so hard, but by often tempering, is made apt to receive an impression: Admit she hath heretofore b● n● cruel, yet now may she be courteous. A true hearted Lover forgets all trespasses, and a smile cureth the wounding of a frown Thus after the manner of ●ond Lovers he flattered himself in his own folly●, and in the praise of his fair Lady, he sung this pleasant Ditty her● following.  

THe pride of Britain is my heart's delight,  
My Lady lives, my true love to requite:  
And in her life I live that else were dead,  
Like withered Leans in time of winter shed.   

She is the joy and comfort of my mind  
She is the Sun that clearest sight doth blind;  
The fairest flower that in the world doth grow,  
Whose whiteness doth surpass the driven snow.   

Her gentle words more sweet than honey are,  
Her eyes for clearness dims the brightest star.  
O were her heart so kind as she is fair,  
No lady might with my true love compare.   

A thousand griefs for her I have sustained,  
While her proud thoughts my humble suit disdained,  
And though she would my hart with torments kill,  
Yet would I honour, serve, and love her still.   

Blessed be the place where she doth like to live:  
Blessed be the light that doth her comfort give:  
And blessed be all creatures far and near,  
That yield relief unto my Lady dear.   

Never may sorrow enter where she is,  
Never may she contented comfort miss,  
Never may she my proffered love for sake,  
But my good will in thankful sort to take.   
Thus feeding his fancy with the sweet remembrance of her beauty, being never satisfied with thinking, and speaking in her praise, at length he resolved himself to go into Flint-shire, where he might solicit his suit anew agains: but coming near to the place of her residence; and hearing report of her troubles, he so highly commended her faith and constancy, that at length he was clapped up in prison by her, and in the end he was condemned to receive equal torment, for a trial of his own truth.  
But during the time that they lay both in prison, the journey▪ men Shoemakers never left him, but yielded him great relief continually, so that he wanted nothing that was necessary for him; in requital of which kindness he called them Gentlemen of the Gentle Craft a●● a few days before his death, he made this Song in their d●e commendations.  

OF Craft and Craftsmen more and less,  
The Gentle Craft I must commend:  
Whose deeds declare their faithfulness,  
And hearty love unto their friend:  
The Gentle Craft in midst of strife,  
Yields comfort to a careful life.   

A Prince by Birth I am indeed,  
The which for Love forsook this Land:  
And when I was in extreme need,  
I took the Gentle Craft in hand,  
And by the Gentle Craft alone,  
Long time I lived, being still unknown,   

Spending my days in sweet content,  
With many a pleasant sugared Song:  
Sitting in pleasures compliment,  
Whilst we recorded Lovers wrong:  
And while the Gentle Craft we used,  
True Love by us was not abused.   

Our shoes we sowed with merry notes,  
And by our mirth expelled all moan:  
Like Nightingales, from whose sweet throats.  
Most pleasant tunes are nightly blown;  
The Gentle Craft is fittest then,  
For poor distressed Gentlemen▪   

Their minds do mount in courtesy,  
And they disdain a niggards feast:  
Their bodies are for Chivalry,  
All cowardness they do detest.  
For Sword and Shield, for Bow and Shaft,  
No man can stain the Gentle Craft.   

Yea sundry Princes sore distressed,  
Shall seek for succour by this Trade:  
Whereby their griefs shall be redressed,  
Of foes they shall not be afraid.  
And many men of fame likewise,  
Shall from the Gentle Craft arise.   

If we want money over night,  
Ere next day noon, God will it send,  
Thus may we keep ourselves upright,  
And be no churl unto our friend:  
Thus do we live where pleasure springs,  
In our conceit like petty Kings.   

Our hearts with care we may not kill,  
Man's life surpasseth worldly wealth,  
Content surpasseth riches still,  
And fie one knaves that live by stealth:  
This Trade therefore both great and small,  
The Gentle Craft shall ever call.   
When the journeymen Shoemakers had heard this Song, and the fair Title that Sir Hugh had given their Trade, they ingraved the same so deeply in their minds, that to this day it could never be razed out: like a remembrance in a ●arbiest●ne which continueth time out of mind.  
But not long after came that doleful day, wherein these two Lovers must lose their lives, who like two meek Lambs were led to the slaughter: the bloody performance thereof was to been done hard by that fair Fountain, where the Love despising Lady made her most abode: and because she was a King's daughter, the bloody Tyrant gave her the privilege to choose her own death: to the which she passed with as good a countenance, as if she had been a fair young Bride prepared for marriage.  
(viz.) When they were come to the place of execution, and mounted upon the S●affo●d, they seemed for beauty like two bright Stars, Castor and Pollux, there they embraced each other with such chaste desires, as all those that beheld them, admired to see how steadfast and ●●rme both these Lovers were, ready in hearts and minds to heaven itself.  
At what time the Lady turned herself to Sir Hugh, and spoke to this effect: Now do I find thee a perfect Lover indeed, that having settled thy affection above the Skies, art ready to yield thy life for thy Love, who in requital thereof, will give thee life for ever.  
The Love of earthly creatures is mixed with many miseries, and interlaced with sundry sorrows; and here grief shall abate the pleasures of Love, but ●e well assured that ●●y shall follow the same.  
Thou didst woo me for love, and now have I won thee to love▪ where settling both our loves upon God his love, we will love one another; and in token of that heavenly love receive of me I pray thee a chaste and loving kiss from my dying lips.  
Fair Winifred (quoth he) it is true indeed; I never loved truly, until thou tàughtest me to love, for then my love was full of discontent: but now altogether pleasing, and more sweet is the thought thereof than any tongue can express.  
The thing that I ever before called Love, was but a shadow of love, a sweetness tempered with gall, a dying life, and a living death, where the heart was continually tossed upon the Seas of tempestuous sorrows, and wherein the mind had no calm quietness: and therefore blessed be the time that I ever learned this Love.. With that he was interrupted by the Tyrant, who said, You are not come ●●therto talk, but to dye; and I have sworn you both shall dye at this instant. Thou Tyrant (said Sir Hugh) the very like sentence is pronounced against thyself; for Nature hath doomed that thou sh●lt die likewise, and albeit the execution thereof be something deferred, yet at length it will come, and that shortly, for never did Tyrant carry grey hairs to the grave.  
The young Lady desired first to dye, saying to Sir Hugh, Come dear friend and learn magnanimity of a Maid: now shalt thou see a silly woman scorn death at his teeth, and make as small account of his cruelty, as the Tyrant doth of our lives, and there withal script up her silken sléeves, and committed her slablaster arms into the executioners foul hands, having made choice to dye in bleeding: at what time being prickee in every vein, the scarlet blood sprung out in plentiful sort, much like a precious fountain lately filled with Claret wine.  
And while she thusbled, she said, Here do I sacrifice my blood to him that bought me, who by his blood washed away all my sins, O my sweet Saviour, thus were thy sides pierced for my transgressions, and in this sort sprung thy precious blood from thee, and all for the love thou barest to mankind: I féels my heart to saint, but my soul receiveth strength, I come sweet Christ, I come. And therewithal her body ●ai●ting, and the blood failing, like a Conduit suddenly drawn dry, the young Princess fell down dead, at what time a pale colour overspread her fair face in such comely sort, as if a heap of Roses had been shadowed with a shéet of pure Lawn.  
But it is to be remembered, that all the while the young Prinsesse bled, her blood was received into certain basons, which being in that sort saved together, the Tyrant caused to be tempered with ●oyson, and prepared it to be the last drink that Sir Hugh should have, saying; That by her love whom he so dear loved, he should receive his death. And thereupon incontinently, without any further delaying of time, he caused a cup of that most deadly poisoned blood to be delivered into his hands, who with a lovely and cheerful countenance received the same, and then uttered his mind in this manner.  
O thou cruel Tyrant (quoth he) what a poor spite is this to inflict upon a dying man, that is as careless how he dies, as when he dies? Easie it is for thee to glut me with blood, although with blood thou art not satisfied. Sweet blood (quoth he) precious & pure, how fair a colour dost thou cast before mine eyes? Sweet I say waist thou, before such time as this ill savouring poison did infect thee: and yet as thou art, I nothing despise thee. O my dear Winifred, full little did I think, that over I should come to drink of thy heart blood.  
My greedy eye that glutton-like did feed upon thy beauty, and yet like the Sea was never satisfied, is now with thy gore blood fully gorged. Now may I quench my thirsty desire with love, that like hot burning coals set my heart in such an extreme heat, that it could not be quenched before this time; For if fair Winifred could spare any love from Heaven, assuredly she left it in her blood, her sweet heart blood I mean, that nourished her chaste life: see, here is a Ca●dl● to cool my vain affections. far been it that my true Lover should ever taste the like.  
But this punishment have the just heavens poured upon me, for the preferring the love of an earthly creature before the love of an heavenly Creator; Pardon, O Lord, the ●oule sins of superstitious Lovers, that while they make Idols of their Ladies, they forget the honour of thy divine Majesty. Yet doth it do my heart much good to think that I must bury sweet Winifred's blood in my body, whose love was lodged long ago in my heart: and there withal, drinking the first draught, he said, O Lord, me seemeth this potion hath a comfortable taste, far doth it surpass that Nectar wherewith the gods were nourished.  
Well (said the Tyrant) seeing it pleaseth thee so well, thou shalt have more, and therewith another cup of the same blood was given him to drink.  
Yes come (quoth he) my thirst is not quenched; for the first draught gave me but a taste of sweetness, and like a longing woman, I desire the rest; and with that he drank the second draught. The third being delivered him, he took the cup into his hand, and looking about, he said: Lo here, I drink to all the kind Yeomen of the Gentle Craft.  
I drink to you all (quoth he) but I cannot spare you one drop to pledge me. Had I any good thing to give, you should sóone receive it: but myself the Tyrant doth take, and my flesh is bequeathed to the Fowls, so that nothing is left but only my bones to pleasure you withal; and those, if they will do you any good, take them: and so I humbly take my leave, bidding you all farewell. There with the last draught he finished his life, whose dead carcase after hanged up where the Fowls devoured his flesh, and the young Princess was contemptuously buried by the Well where she had so long lived. Then had he the title of Saint Hugh given him, and she of Saint Winifred, by which terms they are both so called to this day.   

CHAP. IV▪  
How the Shoemakers stole away Saint Hugh's bones, and made them working tools thereof, and the virtue that they found in the same: whereby it came, that when any man saw a Shoemaker travelling with a pack at his back: they would presently say: There goes Saint Hugh's bones.  
Upon a time it chanced, that a company of journeymen Shoemakers passed along by the place where Saint Hughes dead body was hanging, and finding the flesh picked clean off from the bones, they entered thus into communication among themselves.  
Never was Saint Hugh so bare (quoth one) to carry never a whit of skin upon his bones; nor thou never so bare (said another) to bear never a penny in thy purse.  
But now seeing you talk of Saint Hugh, it brings me to remembrance of his Legacy that he gave us at his death: What was that said the rest? Marry (quoth he) I will tell you, When the gentle Prince saw that the cruelty of the time would not suffer him to be liberal to his friends, but that his life was taken away by one, and his cleth given to others, he most kindly bequeathed his bones unto us.  
Tush (quoth another) that was but to show his mind towards the Shoemakers, because he had received of them so many favours: for alas, what can the dead man's bones pleasure the living? No? (quoth another) I can tell you there may be as great virtue found in his bones, as the brains of a Weasill, or the tongue of a Frog: Much like (answered the rest) but I pray thee show us what virtue is in those things you speak of. Quoth he, I will tell you; The brains of a Weasill hath this power, experientia docet, that if the powder thereof being mingled with the ●unnet, wherewith women make their Chief, no mouse dares ever touch it: In like manner, the tongue of a water frog hath such great force in it, that if it be laid upon the breast of any one sleeping, it will cause them tell whatsoever you shall demand; for by that means Dick Piper knew been was a Cuckold. Again, I know that those that are travellers are not ignorant, that whosoever puts b●t s●r● leaves of Mugwort in his shoes, shall vere be weary, though he travel thirty or forty miles on foot in a forenoon. That indeed may be true, quoth one, for by the very same herb my last Dame kept her Ale from so wring: and it i● said, that where houseléeke is planted, the place shall never be hurt with thunder. Pimper●ell is good against Witchcraft; and because my sister Joan carried always some about her, Mother Bumby could not abide her: Therefore what virtue a dead man's bones may have, we know not till we have tried it.  
Why then said the third man, let us soon at night steal Saint Hugh's bones away, and albeit the Tyrant will been displeased, yet it is no theft, for you say they were given us, and therefore we may the bolder take them, and because we will turn them to profit, and annoyed suspicion, we will make diverse of out Tools with them, and then if any virtue do follow them, the better we shall find it.  
To this motion every one gave his consent, so that the same night Saint Hugh's bones were taken down, and the same being brought before a sort of shoemakers, there they gave their opinion, That it was necessary to fulfil the will of the dead, and to take those bones in as good a part, as if they were worth ten thousand pounds; whereupon one steps out, and thus did say.  
MY friends, I pray you lift to me,  
And mark what S. Hugh's bones shall be.  
FIrst a Drawer and a Dresser,  
two Wedges, a more & a lesser:  
A pretty block three inches high,  
in fashion sqared like a Die,  
Which shall be called by proper name,  
a Heel block, the very same.  
A Hand-leather and a Thumb-leather likewise,  
to pull out shoo-threed we must despise;  
The Needle and the Thimble,  
shall not be left alone  
The Pincers and the pricking Awl  
and the rubbing Stone.  
The Awl steel and Tacks,  
the Sow-hairs beside,  
The Stirrup holding fast,  
while we sow the Cow-hide,  
The whetstone, the stopping stick,  
and the Paring knife:  
All this doth belong,  
to a Journeyman's life.  
Our Apron is the Shrine,  
to wrap these bones in:  
Thus shroud we Saint Hugh  
in gentle Lamb's skin.  
Now all you good Yeomen of the Gentle Craft, tell me now (quoth he) how like you this?  
As well (replied they) as Saint George doth of his Horse, for as long as we can see him fight with the Dragon, we will never part from this Posy.  
And it shall be concluded that what journeymen soever he been hereafter, that cannot handle the Sword and Buckler, his Long Sword, or a Quarter staff, sound the Trumpet, or play upon the Flute and bear his part in a three man's Song: and readily reckon up his tools in Rhyme; except he have borne Colours in the field, being a Lieutenant, a Sergeant or Corporal, shall forfeit▪ and p●● a pott●es● wine, or be counted for a colt: to which they answered all viva voc● Content, content, and then after many merry Songs, they departed And never after did they travel without these fools on their ●●ckes: which ever since were called Saint Hugh's bones.   

CHAP. V.  
How Crispianus and his brother Crispin, the two sons of the King of Logria, through the cruelty of the Tyrant Maximinus, were fain in disguised manner to seek for their lives safety, and how they were entertained by a Shoemaker in Feversha●●.  
When the Roman Maximinus sought in cruel sort, to bereave this Land of all her noble youth or youth of noble blood, The virtuous Queen of Logria (which now is called Kent) dwelling in the City Durovernum, alias Canterbury, or the Court of Kentishmen, having at that time two young Sons, sought all the means she could possible to keep them out of the Tyrants clawed; and in this manner she spoke unto them.  
My dear and beloved sons, the joy and comfort of my age, you see the danger of these times and the storms of a Tyrant's reign, who having now gathered together the most part of the young Nobility, to make them slaves in a foreign Land, that are free borne in their own Country, seeketh for you also, thereby to make a clear riddance of all our born Princes, to the end he might plant strangers in their stead. Therefore (my sweet sons) take the counsel of your mother, and seek in time to prevent ensuing danger, which will come upon us suddenly as a storm at sea, and as cruelly as a Tiger in the wilderness: therefore suiting yourselves in honest habits, seek some poor service to shield you from mischance, seeing necessity hath privileged those places from Tyranny, And so (my sons) the gracious Heavens may one day raiss you to deserved dignity and honour.  
The young Lads seeing their mother so earnest to have them gone, fulfilled her commandment, and casting of● their attire, put homely garments on. and with many bitter tears, took leave of the Queen their mother, desiring her before they went, to bestow her blessing upon them.  
O my son● (quoth she) stand you now upon your ceremonies? had I leisure to give you one kiss, it were something; The Lord bless you, get you gone, away, away, make hast I say, let not swift time o●er●●ip you, for the Tyrant is hard by: with that she pushed them out of a back door, and then set herself down to weep.  
The two young Princes, which like pretty lambs went straying they knew not whether, at length by good fortune, came to Feversham. where before the days peep, they heard certain Shoemakers singing, being as pleasant as their notes, as they sa●e at their business, and this was their Song:  
Would God that it were Holiday,  
hay dery down down dery:  
That with my love I might go play,  
with woe my heart is weary:  
My whole delight is in her sight,  
would God I had her company,  
her company,  
hay dery down, down a down.  
My Love is fine, my Love is fair,  
hay dery down, down dory:  
No maid with her may well compare,  
in Kent or Canterbury;  
From me my Love shall never move,  
would God I had her company,  
her company,  
hay dery down, down a down.  
To see her laugh, to see her smile,  
hay dery down, down dery:  
Doth all my sorrows clean beguile,  
and make my heart full merry;  
No grief doth grow where she doth go,  
would God I had her company, etc.  
hay dery down, down a down.  
When I do meet her on the green,  
hay dery down, down dery:  
Me thinks she looks like beauty's Queen,  
which makes my heart full merry;  
Then I her greet with kisses sweet,  
would God I had her company, etc.  
hay dery down, down a down.  
My love comes not of churlish kind,  
hay dery down down dery;  
But bears a gentle courteous mind,  
Which makes my heart full merry,  
She is not ●oy, she is my joy,  
would God I had her company, etc.  
hay dery down down down.  
Till Sunday come, farewell my dear,  
hay dery down down dery.  
When we do meet, we'll have good cheer,  
and then I will be merry:  
If thou love me, I will love thee,  
and still delight thy company, thy company,  
hay dery down down down.  
The young Princes perceiving such mirth to remain in so homely it cottage, judged by their pleasant Notes, that their hearts were not cloyed with over many cares, and therefore wished it might be their good ●ap to be harboured in a place of such great content.  
But standing a long time in doth what to do, like two distressed strangers, combating 'twixt hope and fear; at length taking courage, Crispianus knocked at the door: What knave knocks there (quoth the journey man) and by and by, down he ●akes his quar●er staff and opens the door, obeing as ready to strike as nocake, saying: What lack you? To whom Crispianus made this answer: Good sir, pardon our holdness, and measure not our truth by our rudeness; we are two poor boys that want service, stripped from our friends by the fury of these wars, and therefore are we enforced succourless to crave ●eruite in any place. What have you no friends or acquaintance in these parts to go to (said the Shoemakers) by whose means you might got preferment? Alas sir (said Crispianus) necessity is despised of every one, and misery is trodden down of many; but seldom or never relieved: yet notwithstanding, if our hope did not yield us some comfort of 〈◊〉 hap, we should grow desperate through distress. That were ●●at pity (said the Shoemaker) be content for as our Dame often ●els our Master. A patient man is better than a strong man. Stay a while and I will call our Dame to the door, and then you shall hear what ●hée will say. With that he went in, and forth came his Dame, who be holding the said youths, said: Now alas, poor boys, how comes it to pass that you are out of service? What, would you be Shoemakers, and bearne the Gentle Craft? Yes forsooth (said they) with all our hearts. Now by my ●roth (quoth she) you do look with honest true faces. I will entreat my husband for you, for we would gladly have good boys; and if you will be just and true, and serve God, no doubt you may do well enough: Come in my lads, come in. Crispianus and his brother, with great reverence gave her thanks; and by that time they had stayed a little while, down came the good man, and his wife hard by his heels, saying: See husband, these been the youths I told you of, no doubt but in time they will be good men.  
Her husband looking wishtly upon them, and conceiving a good opinion of their favours, at length agreed that they should dwell with him, so that they would be bound for seven years. The youths being contented, the bargain was soon ended, and so set to their business; where at they were no sooner settled, but that great search was made for them in all places; and albeit the officers came to the house where they dwelled, by the reason of their disguise they knew them not: having also taken upon them borrowed names of Crispianus and Crispin. Within a few days after, the Queen their mother was by the Tyrant taken, and for that she would not confess where her Sons were, she was laid in prison in Colchester Castle: whereunto she went with as cheerful a countenance, as Cateratus did, when he was led captain to Rome: and coming by the place where her son tes sat at work, with a quick eye she had seen espied them, and look how a dying coal revives in the wind, e●en so at this sight she became suddenly red: but making signs that they should hold their tongues, she was led along: whom seven years after her Sons did never see. But as men stand amazed at the sight of Apparitions in the air, as ignorant what success shall follow, even so were these two Princes aghast to see their own mother thus led away, not knowing what danger would ensue thereof.  
Notwithstanding, they thought good to keep their service as their life's surest refuge: at what time they both bend their whole minds to please their Master and Dame, refusing nothing that was put to them to do, were it so wash dishes, scour Bettles, or any other thing, whereby they thought their Dame's favour might been gotten, which made her the readier to give them a good report to their Master, and to do them many other services, which otherwise they should have miss; following therein the admonition of an old journeyman, who would always say to the Apprentices:  
Howsoever things do frame,  
Please well thy Master, But chiefly thy Dame.  
Now by that time, these two young Princes had truly served their Master the s●ace of four or five years, he was grown something wealthy, and they very cunning in their trade; whereby the house had the n●me ●o breed the best workmen in the Country; which report in the end preferred their Master to be the Emperor's Shoemaker: and by this means, his servants went to Maximinus' Court every day: but Crispianus and Crispin fearing they should have been known, kept themselves from thence, as much as they could. Notwithstanding, at the last persuading themselves, that Time had worn them out of knowledge, they were willing in the end to go thither, as well to hear tidings of the Queen their Mother, as also for to seek their own preferment.   

CHAP. VI  
How the Emperor's fair daughter Ursula, fell in love with young Crispin, coming with Shoes to the Court; and how in the end they were secretly married by a blmd ●rier.  
NOw among all the Shoemaker's men that came to the Court with shoes, young Crispin was had in greatest regard with the fair Princess, whose Mother being lately dead, she was the only ●oy of her Father, who always sought means to match her with some worthy Roman, whose renown might ring throughout the whole world.  
But fair Ursula, whose bright eyes had entangled her heart with desire of the Shoemaker's favour, despised all proffers of Love, in re●ard of him. And yet notwithstanding she would off check her own opinion, in placing her love upon a person of such low degr●●, thus reasoning with herself.  
Most aptly is the god of Love by ●unning Painters drawn blind, that ●o equally shoots forth his ●●ery shafts: for had he eyes to see, it were impossible to deal in such sort, as in matching fair Ven●rs with soul Vulcan, yoking the Imperial hearts of Kings to the love of beggars▪ as he did to Cofetua, and as now in myself I find how mad a thing it would seem to the eyes of the world, that an Emperor's daughter should delight in the favour of a simple Shoemaker.  
O Ursula take heed what th●●●●●t, stain not thy royal●y with such indignity. O that Crispines' birth were agreeable to his person! for in mine eye, there is no Prince in the world comparable to him: if then while he is clothed in these rags of servitude, he appear so excellent, what would he be, were he in Princely attire. O Crispin, either thou art not as thou seemest, or else Nature, in disgrace of Kings, hath made tho● a Shoemaker.  
In these humours would the Princess be often, especially at Crispines' approach, or at his departure: For, as soon as ever he came within her sight with shoes, a sudden blush like a flame of lightning would strike in her face, and at his departure an earthly pale colour, ●●●e to the beams of the bright ●un obscured by coal black clouds. But after many weary conflicts with Fancy, she fully resolved, at his next coming, to enter into communication with him, but imagining his stay from Court over long, on the sudden she sent presently for him, finding great fault in the last shoes he brought her. At which time Crispin most humbly on his knee greatly craved pardon for all such faults as she then had found, promising amendment in the next shoes she should have.  
Nay (quoth she) I'll show thee, they are too low something in the instep; also the heel is bad, and besides that, they are too straight in the ●oes. You shall have a pai●e made (said he) shall ●it you better, ●or none shall set a stitch in them but mine own self. Do, said the Princess, but let me have them to soon as thou can●●, and there with Crispin departed.  
The Princess than all solitary, got herself into her Chamber, entered there into consideration, and found within herself great trouble and sorrow, while the tongue, the hearts advorate was not suffered to speak. At last ●he heard Crispines' voice, enquiring of the Ladies in the great Chamber for the Princess, who answered, That having taken little rest the night before, she was now laid down to sleep, and therefore they willed him to come again some other time. Asléepe, replied the Princess! I am not a sleep, bid him stay: what hasty huswife was that which sent him hence? Call him again quickly I would advise you▪ And therewith all changing melancholy into mirth, she arose up from out of her bed, and as a bright star shooting in the ●lemen she swiftly got her ●●●th tp meet the Shoemaker, whose fair sight was to her as great a co●for● as a Sunshine before a sh●w●● of rain▪ How now (quoth she) ●ast thou brought me a pair of shoes? I have (gracious Madam, quoth he.) Then (quoth the Princess) come thyself and draw them on▪ there with she sitting down lifted up ha● well proportioned l●g upon his gentle knee. Where, by that time her shoes were dra●●ne on, she had prepared a good reward for her shoemaker, and giving him a handful of gold, ●he said: Thou ●ast so well pleased me in making of these shoes, that I cannot but reward thee in some good sort, therefore shoemaker, take this, and from henceforth let no man make my shoes but thyself. But tell me Crispin, art thou not in love, that thou dost sm●g up thyself so finely, thou wast not wont to go so neatly: I pray thee tell me what pretty wench is it that is mistress of thy heart? Truly, fair Madam (quoth he) If I should not love, I might be accounted barbarous, for by nature's coarse there is a mutual love in all things: the Dove and the Peacock lo●e entirely, so doth the Turtle and the Popiniay: she like affection the fish Musculus ●eareth unto the huge Whale, insomuch that 〈◊〉 leadeth him from all danger of stony rocks: and as among birds and fishes, so amongst plants and trees the like concord is to be found, for if the male of palm trees be planted from the female, neither of both prosper: and being set one near another, they do flourish accordingly, embracing with joy the branches one of another. And for mine own part, I am in love too: for first of all, I love my Make● and next, my good Master and Dame: But as concerning the love of pretty wenches, verily Madam, I am clear: and the rather do I abstain from firing my ●ancy on women, seeing many sorrows do follow the married sort, for a dram of delight hath a pound of pain.  
That is (answered the Princess) where Contention setteth the house on fire, but where true Love remains, there is no discontent: and what can a man more desire for this world's comfort, but a virtuous wife, which is reported to be a treasure inestimable. Therefore Crispin, say thy mind, if I prefer thee to a wife, every way deserving thy love, wouldst thou take it well.  
Truly Madam, (said Crispin) if I should not accept of your good will, I should show myself more unmannerly than well nurtured: But seeing it pleaseth you to grace me with your Princely countenance, and to give me liberty to speak my mind, this is my opinion: If I were worthy to choose a wife, then would I have one ●aire, rich, and wise; first, to delight m●●e eye: secondly, to supply my want: and thirdly, to govern my house.  
Then (said the Princess) her beauty I will refer unto the ●udgement of thine own eyes, and her wisdom unto the trial of Time: but as concerning her portion, I ●●●e make some report, because it well deserveth to be praised: For at her marriage thou shalt have ●●ag full of rare virtues with her. Truly Madam (quoth Crispin) such coins go not currant among Tanners: and I know, if I should go wit● it to the Mar●et, it would buy me no sole leather. Notwithstanding, when I do● see her, I will tell you more of my mind.  
The Princess taking him asi●e privately, walking with him in a fair Gallery, said; In looking upon me, thou mayest ●udge of her, for she is as like me as may be. When Crispin heard her say so, he right prudently answered: I had rather Madam she were your own self, than it●e yourself: and although my words savour of presumption, yet with your favour I dare boldly pronounce it, that I hold myself worthy of a Queen, if I could get her good will. And were 〈◊〉 no danger to match with your Excellency, so it should please you, it should not dislike me.  
Then said the Princess, Now Shoemaker I see thou hast some courage in thee: and doubt thou not but if I were of that mind, but I would been as ready to guide the● from the dangerous rocks of my Father's wrath, as the fish called Musculus is for the Whale: But, couldst thou not be contented to dye for a Lady's love? no Madam, (●●oth he) if I could keep her love, and live.  
Then live fair friend (answered she) enjoy my Love, for I will dye rather than live without thee. Crispin hearing this, was stricken into, an ecstasy of io●, in such sort, as he wi●● not whether he were asleep or dreamt: But by that time he had summoned his wit● together, with ●he plighting of his faith, he o●ened his estate and high birth unto her, showing all the extremities that he and his brother had been put unto since the death of their royal Father, and of the imprisonment of the Queen their Mother.  
The which when fair Ursula with great wonder heard, giving him an earnest of her love with a sw●●t kiss: she said; My dear Love, and most gentle Prince, ever did I think, that more than a common man was throwded in these poor habiliments, which made me the bolder to impart my mind unto thee, and now dread no more my Father's wrath, for the ●●re thereof was lon● a●oe quenched.  
No, no, (quoth Crispin) an Eagles thirst is never expelled, but▪ by blood. And albeit your father have now (perhaps) qualified the hea●● of his ●ury by the length of time, yet if be should understand of this my love to thee, it would cause him to take out of the ashes, hot burning coals of displeasure again: and then might my life pay a dear price for thy love.  
Therefore (my dear Ursula) I desire thee, even by the power of that love thou bearest to me, to keep secret what I have the wet thee, nothing doubting but that in time, I may find release of these miseries; in the mean space we will be secretly married, by which holy knot, we as well in body▪ as in heart, he unseparately tied together.  
To this Ursula consented most gladly, and thereupon told him that she would meet him in her Father's Park, at any hour he would appoint; which she might do the more easily, in respect she had a key to one of the garden doors, which gave present passage into the Park▪ The day and hour being concluded upon, they parted for this time▪ both of them endued with such content, as in all their lives they never found the like.  
And at this time there was in Canterbury a blind Friar that in many years had never seen the Sun, to this man did Crispin go, thinking him the fittest Chapplaine to ●hop up such a marriage, who meeting with him at Christ church one evening after the Anthem, broke with him after this manner.  
God speed good father: there is a certain friend of mine that would be secretly married in the morning betimes; for which purpose he thinks you the fittest man to perform it in all the Cleyster: and therefore, if you will be diligent to do it, and secret to conceal it, you shall have four angels for your pains.  
The Friar being fired with the desire of his gold, rubbing his elbow and scratching his crown, swore by the blessed ●ooke that hung by his knee, that he would be both willing and constant to keep it secret. Tush young man, you may trust me, I have done many of these feats in my days; I know that youth are youth, but they would not have all the world wonder at their doings: and where shall it be, said the Friar? quoth Crispin, at Saint Gregory's Chapel, and because you shall not make your boy acquainted therewith. I myself will call you in the morning. Good father be not forgetful to observe the time, at two of the clock is the hour, and therefore look you be ready when I shall call you. I warrant you (replied the Friar:) and because I will not oversléepe myself, I will for this nighily in my clothes, so that as soon as ever you call, I will strait be ready. Then father I will trust you (quoth Crispin) and so departed.  
When he came to his Master, he made not many words, but so soon as he had supped on Sunday at night, he went to his Chamber, and laid him down upon his bed, making no creature in the house privy to his intent, not his own brother, his mind still running on his fair mistress, and the happy hour that should tie them both in one: never was there hunger starved man that did long more for the sweet approach of wholesome food, than did Crispin for two a clock. And so soon as the silent night had drawn all things to rest, Crispin got him up, and to Canterbury goes he to meet his rose chéeked Lady in her father's Park, who also took hold of Times for lock, and like clear Cynthia shaped her course to forsook out Sol in the Meridian. But so soon as her searching eye had spied him the commended his vigilancy, saying: He well observed his hour: O my dear (quoth he) rich preys do make true men théeves: but finding thee here so happily, I will fetch the Friar strait: he had no soon called at the Friar's door, but he presently heard him; and groping the way down, he opened the door, and along they went together: but the Friar finding his journey longer than he expected, said; That either Saint Gregory's Chapel was removed, or else he was not so good a footman as he was wont to be: that is likely enough (said Crispin:) for how much the older you are since you went this way last, so much the weaker you are to travel, but be you content, now we are at the last come to the place, and therefore good Friar make what speed you may. I warrant you (quoth he) and there withal he puts his spectacles on his nose The fair Princess perceiving that, laughed heartily, saying: Little n●●d hath a blind man of a pair of Spectacles. Truly Mistress, said he, as little need hath an old man of a young wife; but you may see what use is: Though I been blind and can see never a letter, yet I cannot say Mass without my Book and my Spectacles, and then he proceeded to solemnize their marriage, which being finished, the Friar had his gold▪ and home he was led: in the mean time the Princess stayed still in the Park for her bridegroom, where when he came, on a bank of sweet Primroses, he plucked the rose of amorous delight: and after the Princess came to her Father's Palace, and Crispin to his Master's shop.   

CHAP. VII.  
How Crispianus was pressed to the wars, and how he fought with Iphicratis the renowned General of the Persians, who made war upon the Frenchmen: showing also the occasion that a Shoemaker's son is said to be a Prince borne.  
IN the mean time that Crispin was secretly busied about his marriage, his brother Crispianus the same night, with many other, was pressed to wars into the Country of Gaul, now called France, which made his Master and Dame full of woe, who had committed to his government the whole rule of his house. And when Crispin came home, they told him what chance had happened. And demanded where he had been, they said▪ they were glad he had so well escaped.  
Crispin excusing himself so well as he could, said, he was sorry for his brother's sudden departure: notwithstanding, the joy of his late marriage mitigated much of his sorrow: to whom in his brother's absence, his Master gave the oversight of his household, which place he guided with such diseretion, as thereby he got both the good will of his Master, and the love of the household. And as he sat one day at his work, he sung this song in commendation of marriage, himself sung the Ditty, and his fellows bore the burden.  
AMong the joys on earth, though little joy there be,  
hay down down down, fine is the silken twist,  
Among the married sort most comfort I do see:  
hay down down down, believe it they that list.  
He that is a married man, hath beauty to embrace,  
hay down down down, and therefore much woe:  
He liveth in delight, and is in happy case,  
hay down down down, in faith we think not so.  
His wife doth dress his meat, with every thing most meet,  
hay down down down, fair women love good cheer:  
And when he comes to bed, she gives him kisses sweet,  
hay down down down, for thanks he pays full dear.  
A hundred honey sweets, he hath when that is done,  
hay down down down, the truth is seldom known,  
He hath in a little time a daughter or a son,  
hay down down down, God grant they be his own.  
A wife is evermore, both faithful, true and just,  
hay down down down, 'tis more than you do know:  
Her husband may be sure, in her to put his trust,  
hay down down down, most are deceived so.  
While he doth ride abroad, she looks unto his house,  
hay down down down, the finest cloth is torn:  
And when he comes, she gives him brawn and souse,  
hay down down down, and oftentimes the horn.  
Now now, what is that you say (quoth Crispin?) Nothing (quoth they) but only bear the burden of your Song. And surely we think it great pity that you are not married, seeing you can sing so well in the praise of marriage. Truly (quoth he) were it not for that holy justitution, what would the world but be a brood of hapless bastards, like to the cursed s●●d of Cain, men fit for all manner of villainy, and such as would leave behind them a race of runagates, persons that would live as badly as they are lewdly begotten.  
The rest of the journeymen hearing him enter into such a deep discourse of the matter began therefore to demand many questions: but s●●ing it appertains not to our matter, we'll leave them to their disputation: and in the mean space I will show you something of Crispianus, who is now in France, with many other Noble Britons, whom Maximinus sent thither to aid the Gauls against the mighty force of Iphicratis the Persian General, who had at this time invaded their country with a great power. The day of battle being appointed, the Armies met in the field, at what time both the Generals like two Lions filled with wrath in their proud march viewed one another, breathing forth on both sides words of dis●aine, and thus the General of the Gauls began.  
Thou insolent Commander of the Eastern troops, how dared thou set thy ambitious foot within our territories? Cannot the confines of Persia content thee, nor those conquered Kingdoms already in thy hand, but that with unsatiate desire thou must come to usurp our right? Know thou, that the undaunted Gauls do scorn thee: for albeit that Alexander like, thou seekest to subdue the whole world, flattering thyself in thy fortunes, yet never think that the son of a Shoemaker shall bend our neck to a servile yoke. Therefore in our just right we are come to give thee hire for thy pride, and by the force of our swords to beat down the Sceptre of thy proud thoughts.  
The renowned Iphicratis upon these words made this reply: Now may I report that the Gauls can do something, finding them such good scolds: But know this that I come not to ra●le, but to revenge these contemptuous speeches, and with the points of sturdy Lances to thrust them down your throats again. Indeed, my father's trade is a reproach unto me, but thou art a reproach to thy father: but thou shalt understand that a Shoemaker's son is a Prince borne, his fortunes made him so, and thou shalt find no less. And hereupon the ●r●mpets sounding to a charge, and the drums striking alarm, there followed a sore and cruel fight: wherein Crispianus like a second Hector laid about him, he wing down his foes on every side. Whose ●alianey and Princely courage was noted of all the Gauls. And this fierce fight ended with the night's approach, each Army took their rest. At what time ●he Noble General of the Gauls sent for Crispianus, and receiving him with sundry kind embracements in his Tent, he demanded of what birth he was. To whom Crispianus sha●ed this answer: Most worthy General, my birth is not mean, and my secrets less, but by trade I am a Shoemaker in England.  
A Shoemaker (said the General!) If such ●ame wait upto Shoemakers, and such magnanimity follow them, well were it for us, if all the people in the Kingdom were Shoemakers. And as great thanks I am to give Maximinus for sending me such a Soldier, as he may be proud to have such a subject: and now right sorry am I, that ever I reproached famous Iphicratis, with his Father's trade, seeing I find it true that Magnanimity and Knightly Prowess, is not always tied within the compass of Noble blood. And for my own part, I will so honourably requite thy deservings, that thou shalt bless the time thou ever camest into these wars.  
The next morning the General's joined battle again, resolving in this fight either by death or victory, to make an end of these troubles, where the Soldiers on each side strou● for the golden wreath of renown, The two General's meeting in the battle, ●ought most courageously together; in which bloody conflict the Prince of the Gauls was thrice by Iphicratis unhorsed, and as many times of Crispianus mounted again: but in the end the great Commander of the Eastern Army, so mightily prevailed, that he had seized on the person of the French Prince, and was carrying him captive to that Colours.  
But so highly was Crispianus favoured of fortune, that he and his followers met him in the pride of his conquest: who then all besmeared in the Persian blood, set upon Iphicratis, and so manly behaved himself, that her recovered the Prince again, and in despite of the Persians, brought him to his Royal Tent: in which encounter the Noble Iphicratis was sore wounded, by reason whereof the Soldiers had rest for three or four days: in which space Iphicratis sent to the Prince of Gauls, to know what kin he was, that in such valtant sort rescued him out of his hands, saying; that if he would serve him, he would make him ruler over a mighty Kingdom.  
The French Prince sent him word, that it was a right hardy Britain, which had performed that honourable service: but no knight, though well deserving greater dignity, but a shoemaker in England: and thus (quoth he) a Shoemaker's son was by a shoemaker foiled.  
When Iphicratis understood this, he sent word again to the Gauls, that for the favour of that worthy man, he would not only cease the wars, but for ever after be a friend to the Gauls: which joyful message when the French king understood, most willingly he embraced the unlooked for tidings of happy peace: and thereupon made Crispianus a knight.  
After the which there was a great feast ordained, whereunto the renowned Iphicratis was invited, and the two Generals, with Crispianus friendly met together. Thus the sour war was ended with sweet feasting: and Iphicratis soon after departed out of the Country with his Army, and never after annoyed them.  
Then the French king, writing his Letter of thanks unto the Emperor Maximmus, did therein certify him of the Princely a●ts of Crispianus, whereby he was brought into the Emperor's favour; and with these Letters Crispianus returned into England.   

CHAP. VIII.  
How the Lady Ursula finding herself to be with child, made her great moan unto her husband Crispin, and how he provided for her a secret place, where she was delivered.  
IN the mean space the Lady Ursula finding herself to been with child, and her unknown husband coming one day with shoes unto her, she made her moan unto him, saying: O Crispin how shall we do? the time of my sorrow and shame draweth on; I feel that ●i●ing in my womb, which, I fear, will bring death upon us all: Why my dear Lady (answered he) art thou with child? kéene thy Chamber close, and wittily excuse thy griefs, until I have found means to procure our safety.  
But dost thou mean faithfully (said she) will thou not deceive me, and for fear of my Father's wrath fl●e the Country: if thou shouldest do so, then were I the wretchedst. Lady alive. Forsake me not sweet Crispin, whatsoever thou dost, but take me with thee wheresoever thou goest: it is not my father's frowns that I regard, so I m●y have thy favour, what do I care for a Princely Palace: an homely Cottage shall content me in thy company.  
O my Love, I will rather learn to spin hemp for thy sh●● thread, than live without thee in the greatest pleasure.  
I will not leave thee my dear ●oue, (quoth he) by that faith I ●ow, which I plighted to thee at our blessed marriage; and therefore be contented, and it shall not be long before I return. Leaving thus his sad Lady he came home, and secretly broke the matter unto his Dame, desiring her counsel in this his extremity.  
What, how now (quoth she) hast thou got a Maid with ch●ld? Ah thou whoreson villain, thou hast undone thyself, how will thou do now? thou hast made a fair hand; here is now sixteen pence a week beside Soap and Candles, Beds, Shirts, Bigpins, Wastcoat●, Headbands, Swadlebands, Crosseclothes, Bibs, Taileclouts, Manties, Hose, Shoes, Coats, Petticoats, Cradie and Crickets, and beside that a standing stool, and a Posnet to make the Child Pap; all this is come upon thee, besides the charges of all her lying in. Oh Crispin, Crispin, I am heartily sorry for thee.  
But in good faith, if I knew the quean that hath brought thee to this folly; I would have her by the face ● swear to you: for though I speak it before thee (Crispin) thou art a proper fellow, and thou mightest have done full well, if thou hadst had grace. God hath done his part on thee: and with that she began with kindness to weep. Whereupon her Husband coming in, asked what she ailed: O man said she) Crispin! Why what of Crispin? tell me. Why speakest thou not? We shall lose a good servant, so we shall. What sequent shall we lose foolish woman (quoth he?) Tell me quickly. O husband! by Cock and Pie I swear, I'll have her by the nose. Who wilt thou have by the nose? What the Devil art thou mad, that thou wilt not answer me? Crispin, who at his Masters coming shunned the room, lending an ear unto those words, went to his Master, and said unto him: Sir, these four years have ● served you; and the fi●t draws near to an end; and as I have found you a good Master to me, so I trust you have had no great cause to complain of me, though (through ignorance) I have sometimes made offence: and knowing at this instant, no man so near a friend unto me as yourself, I have thought good to impart my secret counsel to you: something I presume upon my Dame's favour: which made me open that unto her, which now I wish I had not discovered. Notwithstanding, resting more upon your discretion than her secre●y, I would desire your counsel in a matter that concerns me very near. Uerily said his Master, if it be a thing wherein I may do thee good, thou shalt find that I will not fall from thee in thy sorrows, and therefore be not abashed to declare thy mind: for I swear, if I may procure thee right, thou shalt put up no wrong. Why then sir, thus it is (quoth he) my will running before my wit, I have gotten a Maiden with child, and I wot not in this case what to do, that I might preserve the Maid from shame, and myself from discredit: desides, I doubtifit be known, it will cost me my life: therefore in such case good Master, be secret. Tush man fear not (quoth he) it is a matter of nothing: but I pray thee, now tell me, what wanton wagtail is it that thou hast clapped thus under the apron? O Master (quoth he) the King's fair Daughter Ursula is my Love, and she it is that lives in care for my sake. Passion of my heart thou whorton Knave, quoth his Master, thou art a dead man. I marvel how the Devil thou camest to been so bold with her: Surely thou hast drawn on her shoes on Sunday, I may say, thou hast left so good a token behind: but intruth my boy I commend thee: that thou wouldst shoot at the fairest. Yea sir, quoth Crispin, and I have hit the mark I frow, and do verily believe, that none will shoot 〈◊〉 near again. Nay swear not, said his Master, many may aim at fair marks, and more than one man hits them now and then: but what wouldst thou have me to do in this case? My good Master (quoth Crispin) the truth is, she is my wife; and the very same night my brother was pressed to the wars, I was married to her: and if you could tell me how she might be delivered of her burden without any suspicion, I should not only remain beholding to you while I lived, but would also gratify your kindness in such sort as should content you. His ●ame all this while listened to their talk, and when ●he understood he spoke of the king's daughter, and that he had married her, she said: Now God's blessing on thy heart Crispin, that thou art so careful for thy wife, but it maketh me wonder she would marry a Shoemaker, and a poor fellow too. Master and Dame (quoth Crispin) seeing I have begun, I●● show you a further matter, as strange as the other. The necessity of these times makes many Noble personages to mask in simple habit, as Jupiter did in a shepherd's weed, and the truth is, that Lady Ursula is not ignorant, that by matching with me she hath wedded a Prince, and you may say, that these five years two Princes have served you obediently, under the simple borrowed names of Crispin and Crispianus.  
Our Royal Father was slain by the Emperor Maximinus, and the Queen our Mother yet lies imprisoned, and your poor house, and these leather garments, have been our life of defence against the blood▪ thirsty tyrant. Now you see, that though there were hate towards us in the father, yet there is love yielded us by the daughter. This must be kept for a certain time from the knowledge of him lest our lives pay a dear ransom for our loves. Well Crispin (quoth his Dame) be of good cheer, for I have a device in my head, how to get thy Love out of her father's Palace, that she may been brought to bed in my own house, without either hurt to thee, or dishonour to her, if thou wilt do as I wish thee. When you do perceive that she grows near unto the time of her travel, I would w●sh you to work such means as to set some tree on fire late in the night, that standeth somewhat near one of the Beacons upon the Sea coast, whereby it will follow, that such watchmen as watch at our Beacons, supposing the Beacons at the Sea coast to be on fire, will set theirs on fire also. Then will there be a great hurlie burlie, with the preparation of men at Arms on all sides to withstand a supposed foe, that which they shall never find: then (as you know) Maximinus with his household will be in most fear, because he is most hated, that whilst he is abroad, the rest of his household will every one of them seek for their own safeguard, amongst the which, let fair Ursula be one, who by that means singling herself alone, may take up my house, and here she may be closely kept till she be delivered, taking upon her the name and habit of a simple woman. But the truth of this matter (quoth Crispin) I doubt it will soon be perceived and found out, then how shall Lady Ursula do, for she will strait be miss. Tush that's no matter (qd his Dame) and miss let her he, until such time as she is in a better case to go abroad again; for in such a tumult as then will been, they will suppose many things, that one mischance or other is befallen her: or if she be in health, that she hath wandered into the woods or some other uncouth place▪ where she might best provide for safety: and when she comes home again, I warrant thee Crispin she shall be welcome. Then ●aid his Master, I like my wife's counsel well; therefore by my consent put it in practice: Whereunto Crispin consented, and so making the Lady privy to the purpose, at length it was put in execution, at what time there was crying out on all sides, Arm, Arm, Arm: our enemies are coming upon us. Where quoth they?) at Rutupium said one, at Aruvagus Castle said another: quoth the third it is at Doris: I tell you (quoth the fourth) it is at Duur: And all this is but Dover, (said the fifth man;) and at Dover it is undoubtedly, therefore haste, haste away: for never was there more need: so that Maximinus was almost at his wit's end, as one not knowing which way to turn, the cries of the people came so thick, one after another, the waiting Gentle women left the Princess, and sought their own safety. Thus while some were busy in carrying out the King's treasure, others hiding the plate, and others the goods, Ursula had an easy passage into the Shoemaker's house.  
The young Prince Crispin was gone with the rest of the Town towards Dover, where when they came, there was nothing to do, which when Maximinus saw, he was not a little glad the wars were so soon ended: But when he came to the Court, and miss his daughter, there was posting up and down in every place to seek her, but all in vain, for no man could meet with her, for which he made a great lamentation, making a Proclamation throughout the whole Country, That whosoever could bring her to him, he should not only have a Princely reward, but also if he were a man of Noble blood, he should be honoured with the marriage of his fair daughter. This was good news to Crispin, who was not to learn to make profit thereof. But by that time his Lady was itched, Crispianus his eldest brother arrived into England wi●h great honour, as before you have heard. And before he went to the Court he thought it good to visit his old Master, who came also in good time to the christening of his brother's child, which when he with wonder beheld, noting what a strange accident there was, that Maximinus' daughter should be his brother's wife. But after that he had in Princely manner saluted the new delivered Lady, taking the infant in his arms, he kissed it, saying, Now I will say and swea●e▪ said he that a Shoemaker's Son is a Prince borne joining in the opinion of phicratis, and henceforth Shoemakers shall never let their term ●ie.  
Then turning to his Master and Dame (he said) how much dear Master and Dame are we bound to your favours, that have maintained our honours with our happiness; for by this means, I hope we shall make a joyful conclusion of our sorrowful beginning, and I will so work, that the Emperor shall confirm what is already begun, I mean, the honour due to these Princely Lovers, and together with our happy fortunes procure our mother's liberty.  
Hereupon, within a short time after, he made preparation to the Court, he attired himself in Princely manner, and with a most knightly grace he delivered to Maximinus, the ●ing of Gauls letter, where he certified the Emperor of the honourable deeds performed by Crispianus, whereupon he received him to great favour, and said unto him: Right renowned knight, for the great honour thou hast done me in France, I will honour thee with any thing which thou shalt command, that standeth with the Majesty and credit of an Emperor to give. Then I beseech your Highness (quoth he) to grant me the life and liberty of my dear mother, that late Queen of Logria. Art thou her son said Maximinus? although thy father was my foe, yet I must needs say, he was a most courageous and warlike Prince: thy suit is granted. And once I had a daughter worthy of thy love, but unconstant Fortune hath bereft me of that bliss; but had it pleased the fair Heavens to have left her me till this day, I would have made thee more honourable by her match: But seeing that my wishing doth nothing profit thee, take hence the richest jewel I have, and be thou next myself in authority: with that he took from his own neck a ●ollar of most, precious Diamonds, and gave it to Crispianus, saying, Be thou as fortunate as Polycrates.   

CHAP. IX.  
How fair Ursula came before her father with Crispin her husband, who was joyfully received by him, and in the end had his good will to confirm the marriage betwixt them, whereupon there was great joy on both sides. And the Shoemakers in honour of this happy day, made a joyful Song.  
Within a certain space after, word was brought to the Emperor, that his daughter was with a Shoemaker, come to the Court; whereat Maximinus was stricken into a sudden joy, saying: An honourable Shoemaker may he be that hath brought my fair daughter again, Welcome my sweet Ursula, and in good time welcome to thy father, and welcome also is this happy young man that hath so fortunately brought thee: and turning to Crispianus he said: Noble Sir Knight, take here my daughter to wife; Not so dear Father (quoth she) this man hath best deserved my love, that hath preserved my life, and his wife will I ●e. Why Ursula▪ said her father, wilt thou darken the sun shine of my joy, with the clouds of foul obstinacy, and yoke thyself so unequally? This man is a Prince. And this man's son is another (quoth she▪) That is strange said the Emperor; can that child be a Prince, whose father is but a Shoemaker?  
Then answered Ursula, My Royal Father, a Shoemaker's son is a Prince borne: Most gracious Lord (quoth Crispianus) the very like sentence did I hear the renowned Iphicrates pronounce to the King of Gauls. when he upbraided him with his birth: with that Crispines' Dame presented the child to the Emperor, and fair Ursula was very diligent to discover the child's face, and held it to her Father. Why daughter (quoth he) art thou not ashamed to henour a base borne brat so much? hence with the Elf, and therewithal pushed it from him; whereat his daughter's tears trickled down her cheeks, and so kissing the child, gave it again to the woman. What (said Maximinus) dost thou love the child so well, that thou must kiss it, and weep for it? I have cause dear Father (quoth she) for that this child's mother lay in my mother's belly.  
At these words the Emperor suspected something, and demanded of Crispin of what parentage he was. And then knowing that he was Crispianus brother, all the controversy was ended, and their secret marriage confirmed openly, with great joy and triumph: at which time the Shoemakers in the same town made holiday: To whom Crispin and Crispianus seat most Princely gifts for to maintain their merriment. And ever after upon that day at night the Shoemakers make great cheer and feasting, in remembrance of these two Princely brethren: and because it might not be forgotten they caused their names to be placed in the Calendar for a yearly remembrance, which you shall find in the month of October, about three days before the feast of Simon and Judas.  

The Shoemaker's Song on Crispianus night.  
Two Princely brethren once there▪ were,  
Right Sons unto a King.  
Whose father tyrant Maximus  
to cruel death did bring:  
Crispianus one was called,  
the eldest of the two;  
Crispin was the others name,  
which well had learned to woo,  
These brethren than were after fain,  
from father's house to fly:  
Because their foes to spoil their lives  
in privy wait did lie:  
Into a kind Shoemaker's house,  
they suddenly stepped in;  
And there to learn the Gentle Craft,  
did presently begin.  
And five years' space they lived so,  
with great content of mind;  
So that the Tyrant could not tell;  
whereas he should them find:  
Though every day to Court they came▪  
with Shoes for Lady's feet;  
They were not known by their attire,  
they used themselves so meet,  
At length unto the furious wars  
was Crispianus pressed;  
Whereas his knightly prowess than  
he tried above the rest:  
But Crispin found him better sport,  
would I had Crispin been;  
The King's fair daughter loved him well,  
as it was after seen.  
The length of this fair Lady's foot,  
so well did Crispin know,  
That none but he could please her mind,  
the certain truth is so:  
Came he by night or else by day,  
he was most welcome still;  
With kisses sweet she did him pay,  
and thanks for his good will,  
So oft these Lovers twain did meet,  
by day and eke by night:  
That at the last the Lady said,  
she should be shamed quite;  
What was the matter tell me true,  
that so her sorrow bred?  
Her Shoemaker most daintily  
had got her Maidenhead.  
But he at length so wisely wrought,  
as doth the Story tell:  
Her father's right good will he got,  
and every thing was well.  
And Crispianus came again  
from wars victoriously:  
Then Shoemakers made Holiday,  
and therefore so will I.  
And now for Crispianus sake,  
this wine I drink to thee,  
And he that doth this mark mistake,  
and will not now pledge me:  
He is not Crispianus friend;  
nor worthy well I wot,  
To have a Lady to his Love,  
as Crispin he hath got.    

CHAP. X.  
How Sir Simon Eyer being at first a Shoemaker, became in the end Mayor of London, through the counsel of his wife: and how he broke his fast every day on a Table that he said he would not sell for a thousand pounds: and how he builded Leaden Hall.  
OUr English Chronicles do make mention, that sometime there was in the honourable City of London a worthy Mayor, known by name of Sir Simon Eyre, whose fame liveth in the mouths of many men to this day, who albeit be descended from mean parentage, yet by God's blessing, in the end he came to be a most worthy man in the commonwealth.  
This man being brought young out of the North Country, was bound prentice to a Shoemaker, bearing then the name of the Gentle-Craft (as still it doth) his Master being a man of reasonable wealth, set many journeymen and prentices to work, who followed their business with great delight, which quite excludeth all weariness, for when servants do sit at their work like Dromedaries, than their minds are never lightly upon their business: for it is an old proverb,  

They prove servants kind and good,  
That sing at their business like birds in the wood.   
Such fellows had this young Lad, who was not behind with many Northern I●gs, to answer their Southern Songs. This youth being the youngest prentice in the house, as occasion serue●, was often sent to the Conduit for water, where in short time he fell acquainted with many other prentices coming thither for the same intent.  
Now their custom was so, that every Sunday morning diverse of these prentices did use to go to a place near the Conduit, to break their fast with pudding Pies, and often they would take Simon along with them: but upon a time it so fell out, that when he should draw money to pay the shot with the rest, that he had none▪ whereupon he merrily said unto them: My faithful friends, and Conduit companious, treasurers of the Water-tankard, and main pillars of the pudding-house, I may now compare my purse to a varren do, that yields the Keeper no more good than her empty carcase: or to a bad nut, which being opened hath never a kernel: therefore, if it will please you to pardon me at this time, and excuse me for my part of the shot, I do here vow unto you, that if ever come to be Lord Mayor of this City, I will give a breakfast unto all the prentices in London. We do take your word (quoth they) and so they departed.  
It came to pass, that Simon having at length worn out his years of Apprenticeship, that he fell in love with a Maiden that was a near neighbour unto him, unto whom at length he was married, and not him a shop, ●●d laboured hard daily, and his young wife was never idle but strait when she had nothing to do she sat in the shop and spun: and having lived thus alone a year or thereabout, and having gathered something together, at length he got him some prentices and a journiman or two, and he could not make his ware so fast as be could have sold it, so that ●e stood in great need of a journi man or two more.  
At the last, one of his servants spring one go along the street with a ●ardell at his back called to his Master, saying, Sir, yonder goes S. Hugh's bones, twenty pounds to a ●●nny. Run presently quoth he) and bring him hither. The boy running forth, called to the man, saying, Good fellow, come hither, here is one would speak with you▪ The fellow being a Frenchman, that had not long been in England, turning about, said: Hea, what you sea? Will you speak wed me, Hea? what you have? tell a me, what you have▪ hea? And with that coming to the stall, the good man ask● him if he lacked work, We par ma foy, quoth the Frenchman. Hereupon Simon took him in, and to work he went merrily, where he behaved himself so well, that his Master made good account of him, thinking he had been a Bachelor, but in the end it was found otherwise.  
This man was the first that wrought upon the low cut sh●●e, with she square toe, and the latchet overth wart the instep, before which time in England they did wear a high shoe that reached above the ankles, right after the manner of our husbandmen's shoes at this day, save only that it was made very sharp at the toe turning up like the tail of an Island dog: or as you see a Cock carry his hinder feathers.  
Now it is to be remembered, that while John Denevale dwelled with Simon Eyre, it chanced that a ship of the I'll of Candy was driven upon our Coast, laden with all ●inde of Lawns and Cambrics, and other linen cloth: which commodities at that time were in London very scant, and exceeding dear: and by reason of a great l●ake the ship had got at Sea, being unable to fail any further, he would make what profit he could of his goods here.  
And being come to London, it was John Denevales chance to meet him in ●he streets, to whom the Merchant (in the Greek tongue) demanded where he might have lodging, for he was one that had never been in England before; and being unacquainted, wist not whither to go: but while he spoke Greek, John Denevale answered him still in French, which tongue the Merchant understood well: and therefore being glad that he had met with one that could talk to him, he declared unto him what tempests he endured at Sea, and also how his ship lay upon the Coast with such Commodities as he would sell. Truly Sir (quoth John) I am myself but a stranger in this Country, and utterly unacquainted with Merchants, but I dwell with one in the City that is a very honest man, and it may be that he can help you to some that will deal with you for it, and if you think it good, I will move him in it and in the mean space, I'll bring you where you may have a very good lodging, to morrow morning I will come to you again.  
Sir, said the Merchant, if you please to do me that favour, I'll not only be thankful unto you for the same, but also in most honest sort will content you for your pains: and with that they departed.  
Now, so soon as John the Frenchman came home, he moved th● matter unto his Master, desiring him that he would do what he could for the Merchant, when his Master had heard each circumstance, noting there with the want of such commodities in the ●and, cast in his mind as he stood cutting up his work, what were best to be done in this case, saying to his man John, I will think upon it betwixt this and the morning, and then I will tell you my mind: and there withal casting down his cutting Knife, he went out of his shop into his Chamber, and therein walked up and down alone very sadly, ruminating hereon: he was so far in his muse, that his wife sending for him to supper two or three times he nothing regarded the maids call, hammering this matter in his head: at last his wife came to him saying: Husband, what mean you that you do not come to supper? why speak you not man? Hear you? good husband, come away, your meat will be cold: but for all her words, he stayed walking up and down still, like a man that had sent his wits a wool gathering: which his wife seeing, pulled him by the sleeve, saying, why Husband in the name of God, why come you not? will you not come to supper to night? I called you a good while ago. Body of me, wife (said he) I promise thee I did not hear she: no saith, it seemeth so (quoth she) I marvel whereupon your mind runneth: Believe me wife quoth he, I was studying how to make myself Lord Mayor, and thee a Lady.  
Now God help you (quoth she) I pray God make us able to pay every man his own, that we may live out of debt and danger, and drive the Wolf from the door, and I desire no more. But wife, said he, I pray thee now tell me, Dost thou not think that thou couldst make shift to bear the name of a Lady, if it should be put upon thee? In truth Husband (quoth she) I'll not dissemble with you, if your wealth were able to bear it, my mind would bear it well enough. Well, wife, replied he, I tell thee now in sadness, that if I had money, there is a commodity now to been bought, the gains whereof would be able to make me a Gentleman for ever. Alas husband, that dignity your trade allows you already, being a squire of the Gentle-Craft. then how can you be less than a Gentleman seeing your fonne 〈◊〉 Prince ●●rne? Tush wife, quoth he, those titles do only rest in name, but not in nature: but of that sort had I rather be, whose lands are answerable to their virtues, and whose rents can maintain the greatness of their mind. Then sweet husband, tell me, said his wife, tell me, what commodity is that which you might get so much by? I am sure yourself hath some money, and it shall go very hard but I●e procure friends to borrow one forty shillings, and beside that, rather than you shall lose so good a bargain, I have a couple of crowns that saw no Sun since we were first married, and them also shall you have.  
Alas wife (said Simon) all this comes not n●●re that matter: I confess it would do some good in buying some backs of leather, but in this thing it is nothing: for this is Merchantize that is precious at this time and rare to be had, and I hear, that whosoever will have it must lay down 3000 pounds ready money. Yea wife, and yet thereby he might get three and three thousand pounds profit.  
His wife hearing him say so, was inflamed with the desire thereof, as women are (for the most part) very covetous: that matter running still in her mind, she could scant find in her heart to spare him time to go to supper, for very eagerness to animate him on to take that bargain upon him. Wherefore so soon as they had supped, and given God thanks, she called her husband, saying: I pray you come hither I would speak a word with you: that man is not always to been blamed that sometimes takes counsel of his wife: though women's wits are not able to comprehend the greatest things, yet in doubtful matters they oft help on a sudden.  
Well wife, what mean you by this (said her husband?) In truth quoth she, I would have you to pluck up a man's heart, and speedily cho● up a bargain for these goods you speak of. Who, ●? quoth he, which way should I do it, that am not able for three thousand pounds, to lay down three thousand pence? Tush man quoth she, what of that? every man that beholds a man in the face, knows not what he hath in his purse; and whatsoever he be that owes the goods, he will no doubt be content to stay a month for his money or three weeks at the least: and I promise you, to pay a thousand pounds a week, is a pretty round payment, and I may say to you, not much to be misliked of.  
Now husband, I would have you in the Morning go with John the French man to the Grecian Merchant, and with good discretion drive a sound bargain with him for the whole fraught of the S●i●, and thereupon give him half a dozen Angels in earnest, and eight and twenty days after the delivery of the goods, condition to deliver him the rest of his money; But woman (quoth he) dost thou imagine that he would take my word for so weighty a mass of money, and to deliver his goods upon no better security?  
Good Lord quoth she, have you no wit in such a case to make shift? ●le tell you what you shall do: Be not known that you bargain for your own self, but tell him that you do it in the behalf of one of the chief Aldermen in the City; but beware in any case, that you leave wi●h him your own name in writing, he ●eing a Grecian cannot read English: and you have no need at all to show John the French man, or if you should, it were no great matter, for you can tell well enough that he can neither write nor read.  
I perceive wife (quoth he thou wouldst ●aine be a Lady, and worthy thou art to be one, that dost thus ●●●loy thy wits to bring thy husband profit: but tell me, if he should be desirous to see the Alderman to confer with him, how shall we do then▪ jesus have mercy upon us (quoth she) you say women are fools, but me seemeth men have need to be taught sometimes. Before you come away in the morning, let John the Frenchman tell him that the Alderman himself shall come to his lodging in the afternoon: and receiving a note of all the goods that be in the ship, he shall deliver unto him a Bill of his hand for the payment of his money, according to that time. Now sweet heart (quoth she) this Alderman shall be thine own self, and I'll go borrow for thee all things that shall be necessary against that time. Tush. (quoth her husband) canst thou imagine, that he seeing me in the morning will not know me again in the afternoon? O husband quoth thee, he will not know thee, I warrant thee: for in the morning thou shalt go to him in thy doublet of sheep's skins, with a smutched face, and thy apron before thee, thy thumb leather and hand-leather, ●uckled close to thy wrist, with a foul band about thy neck, and a greasy tap on thy head. Why woman (quoth he) to go in this sort will be a discredit to me, and make the Merchant doubtful of my dealing: for men of simple attire are (God wot) slenderly esteemed.  
Hold your peace good husband (quoth she) it shall not be so with you, for John the Frenchman shall give such good report to the Merchant for your honest dealing (as I praise God he can do no less) that the Grecian will rather conceive the better of you, than otherwise: judging you a prudent discreet man, that will not make a show of that you are not, but go in your attire agreeable to your trade. And because none of our folks shall be privy to our intent, to morrow w●●le●ing at my Cousin John Barbers, in S Clement's Lane, which is not far from the George in Lumbard-street, where the Merchant stranger's lie. Now I'll be sure that all things shall be ready at my Cousin Jo●ns, that you shall put on in the afternoon. And there he shall first of all with his scissors, snap off all the superfluous hairs, and fashion ●hy bushy ●eard after the Alderman's grave cut: then shall he wash thee with a sweet Camphire Ball and besprinkle thine head and face with the purest rose water; then shalt thou scour thy pitchy fingers in a basin of hot water, with an ordinary washing Ball: and all this being done, strip thee from these common ●eeds, and I'll put thee on a very fair doublet of tawny satin, over the which thou shalt have a cassock of branched damask, furred round about the shirts with the finest foins, thy breeches of black ●eluet, and shoes and stockings fit for such array: a band about thy neck as white as the driven snow, and for thy wrists a pretty pa●●● of cuffs, and on thy head a cap of the finest black▪ than shalt thou put on a fair gown, welted about with Velvet, and overthwart ●he back thwart it shall been with rich foin, with a pair of sweet gloves on thy hands, and on thy forefinger a great seale-ring of gold.  
Thou being thus attired, I'll entreat my Cousin John Barber, because he is a very handsome youngman, neat and fine in his apparel, (as indeed all Barbers are, that he would take the pains to wait upon you unto the Merchants as if he were your man, which he will do at the first, because one of you cannot understand the other, so that it will be sufficient with outward courtesy, one to greet another; and he to deliver unto you his notes, and you to give to him your E●ll, and so come home.  
It doth my heart good, to see how trimly this apparel doth become you, in good faith husband, me seems in my mind, I see you ●●●t already, and how like an Alderman you will look, when you are in this costly array. At your return from the Merchant, you shall put off all these clothes at my Cousins again, and come home as you did go forth. Then tell John the frenchman, that the Alderman was with the Merchant this afternoon; you may send him to him in the morning, and bid him to command that his ship may be brought down the River: while she is coming about, you may give notice to the Linendrapers', of the commodities you have coming. Enough wife (quoth he) thou hast said enough, and by the grace of God, I'll follow thy counsel, and I doubt not but to have good fortune.   

CHAP. XI.  
How Simon Eyer was sent for to my Lord Mayors to supper, and showing the great entertainment he and his wife had there.  
A Non after, supper time drew near, she making herself ready in the best manner she could devose, passed along with her husband unto my Lord Mayor's house: and being entered into the great Hall, one of the Officers there certified my Lord Mayor, that the great rich Shoemaker and his wife were already come. Whereupon the Lord Mayor in courteous manner came into the Hall to Simon, saying, You are most heartily welcome good Master Eyer, and so is your gentle bedfellow. Then came forth the Lady Mayoresse and saluted them both in like manner, saying: Welcome good Master Eyer and Mistress Eyre both, and taking her by the hand, set her down among the Gentlewomen there present.  
Sir (quoth the Lord Mayor) I understand you are a Shoemaker, and that i● is you that hath bought up all the goods of the great Argozy. I am indeed my Lord of the Gentle Craft, quoth he, and I praise God, all the goods of the great Argozy are mine own, when my debts are paid.  
God give you much i●y of them, said the Lord Mayor, and I trust you and I shall deal for some part thereof. So the meat being then ready to be brought in, the guests were placed each one according to their calling. My Lord Mayor holding Simon by the hand, and the Lady Mayoresse holding his wife, they would needs have them sit near to themselves, which they then with blushing cheeks refusing, my Lord said unto them, holding his ca● in his hand;  
Master Eyre and Mistress Eyre, let me entreat you not to be troublesome, for I tell you it shall be thus: and as for those Gentlemen here present, they are all of mine old acquaintance, and many times we have been together, therefore I dare be the bolder with them: and albeit you are our neighbours also, yet I promise you, you are strangers to my Table, and to strangers common courtesy doth teach us ●o shewthe greatest favour, and therefore let me rule you in mine house, and you shall rule me in yours.  
When Simon sound there was no remedy, they safe them down, but she poor woman was so abashed, that she did eat but little meat at the Table, bearing herself at the Table with a comely and modest countenance: but what she wanted in outward feeding, her heart yielded ●o wi●h inward delight and content.  
Now so it was, many men that knew not Simon, and seeing him in so simple attire sit next my Lord, whisperingly asked one another what he was. And it was enough for Simons wife with her eyes and ears, to see and hearken after every thing that was said or done.  
A grave wealthy Citizen sitting at the Table, spoke to Simon, and said, Sir▪ in good will I drink to your good health, but I beseech you pardon me, for I know not how to call your name: with that my Lord Mayor answered him: saying, his name is Master Eyre, and this is the Gentleman that bought all the goods that came in the black Swan of Candy, and before God, though he sit here in simple sort, for his wealth I do verily believe he is more sufficient to bear this place than myself. This was a man that was never thought upon, living obscure amongst us, of none account in the eyes of the world, carrying the countenance but of a Shoemaker, and none of the best sort neither, and is able to deal for a bargain of five thousand pounds at a c●ap. We do want many such Shoemakers (said the Citizen:) and so with other discourse drove out supper, at what time rising from the Table, Simon and his wife receiving sundry salutations of my Lord Mayor and his Lady, and of all the rest of the worshipful guests, departed home to their own house: at what time his wife made such a recital of the matters; how bravely they were entertained, what great cheer was there, also what a great company of Gentlemen and Gentlewomen were there, and how often they drank to her husband and to her, with diverse other circumstances▪ that I believe, if the night had been six months long, as it is under the North pole, the would have found talk enough till morning. Of a truth (quoth she) although I sat closely by my Lady's side, I could eat nothing for very joy, to hear and see that we were so much made of. And never give me credit husband, if I did not hear the Officers whisper as they stood behind me, and all demanded one of another, what you were, and what I was: O quoth one, do you see this man? mark▪ him well, and mark his wife well, that simple woman that sits next my Lady: What are they? What are they quoth another? Marry this is the rich Shoemaker that bought all the goods in the great Argozie: I tell you there was never such a Shoemaker seen in London since the City was builded.  
Now by my faith (quoth the third) I have heard much of him to day among the Merchants in the street, going between the two Chains: Credit me husband, of mine honesty this was their communication. Nay, and do you not remember when she rich Citizen drank to you (wh●ch craved pardon, because he knew not your name) what my Lord Mayor said? Sir (quoth he) his name is Master Eyer, did you mark that? and presently thereupon he added these words: This is the Gentleman that bought, and so forth. The Gentleman understood you, did you hear him speak that word?  
In troth wife (quoth he) my Lord uttered many good words of me, I thank his honour, but & heard not that. No (queth she) I heard it well enough: for by and by he proceeded further, saying: I suppose, though he sit here in simple sort, he is more sufficient to bear this charge than myself. Yea thought I, he may thank his wife for that, if it come so to pass. Nay, said Simon, I thank God for it. Yea, & next him, you may thank me (quoth she.) And it did her so much good to talk of it, that I suppose, if she had lived till this day, she should yet be prating thereof, and if sleep did not drive her from it.  
And now seeing that Simon the Shoemaker is become a Merchant, we will temper our tongues to give him that title, which his customers were wont to do, and from henceforth call him master Eyer, who, while he had his affairs in hand, committed the government of his shop to John the Frenchman, leaving him to be a guide to his other servants, by means of which favour, John thought himself at that time to be a man of no small reputation.   

CHAP. XII.  
How john the Frenchman fell in love with one of his Master's Maids: and how he was crossed through the craft of Haunce the Dutchman.  
AT the same time there was dwelling in the house, a jolly lusty wench▪ whose name was Florence, whom John the Frenchman loved dear well, and for her only sake he brought many a good bottle of wine into the house, and therewithal so soon as their Master and Mistress were gone to bed, they would oftentimes make merry amongst themselves; which Haunce, a journeyman in the same house perceiving, sought to cross them as much as in him lay, thereby to bring his own purpose the better to pass, which was to join the Maiden's favour to his own affection.  
And because the Frenchman had greatest gains under his Master, and being thereof no niggard when he had got it, the Maids did most delight in him, and little esteemed the Dutchman, though his good will ware as great towards her as the other: for they could not be in any corner of the house together, nor could they meet in any place abroad, but the Dutchman would still watch them.  
Upon a time, Florence being at Market, her Love John went forth of the shop to meet her, and Haunce stayed not long behind, who at length espied them, and heard his fellow John questioning with her in this sort.  
What Florence, what have you in your basket? hea, let me see what you buy. Marry John (quoth she) I have bought Beef and Mutton, and other things. Come, come, must you peep in my basket (quoth she) away for shame away. Be got Florence, me will see a little: ha, ha! Florence, you buy the pudding, hea, you love de puddings? Florence hea? Yea Sir (quoth she) what it I do love puddings? what care you? of my troth Florence, if I be your husband, me will give you pudden shall warren. My husband (quoth she) in faith sir no, I mean not to marry a French man. What Florence, de French man be the good man: but Florence, me will give you a pint of wine by my treat.  
O, I cannot stay now, I thank you John: (quoth he) What Florence, no stay with your friend? I shall make you stay a little time: and so with that, taking her by the hand into the Tavern they go, and Haunce the Dutch man following them, and sat close in the next room, and by that means he heard all that they said, and that they appointed the next Sunday to go to Islington together, and there to be merry: and so the Maid hasting away they departed.  
Well (quoth Haunce secretly to himself) it shall go hard but I'll disappoint you. Sunday in the afternoon being come, John the French man, according to appointment▪ went before to Islington, leaving Florence to come after, with another Maid which dwelled in the same house, whilst he prepared good cheer for their coming: and the more to make her m●rry, he hired a noise of Musicians to attend t●●●● pleasure.  
And as it after happened, his fellow Haunce prevented this sport, who watching in the fields for Florence, at length he spied her coming: to whom he said, Well met fair Florence, your friend John hath changed his mind: for whereas he appointed you to meet him at Islington, you shall lose your labour so to do, for he is not there. No, how so said Florence? The reason is this (said Haunce) So far as I can understand by him, he thinks you are very flekle and inconstant; and because it was his chance this morning, to see you speak to a young man that passed by, he saith ver●ly, that you are a marvelous great dissembler: and in this humour he is gone I know not whither.  
And is it even so, said Florence? I'll tell thee what Haunce, because he hath made thee privy to his mind, I will show thee somewhat of mine. Doth he suspect me because I did but speak to one? Nay, i● he be so jealous now, what will he be hereafter? And therefore insomuch that it is so, let him go to the Devil, he shall very well find, that I will set as light by him, as he doth by me: Did ●he Knave get leave of my Mistress for me to come abroad this day, and doth he now serve me thus? Well, this shall teach me wit, in faith, and so she turns back again.  
Nay (quoth Haunce) seeing you are now abroad, let me entreat you to go to Hogsdon, and I will bestow a mess of cream upon you. In the end she was won, and as they walked together, Haunce spoke thus unto her: I know not what cause John the French man hath given you, to bear him so much good will, as I perceive you do, but in my mind, he is a far unmeet match for you. And thus much I know, he is of a very mistrustful nature, a wavering mind, and deceitful heart, he did pro●esse great good will to you in outward show, but I have heard him speak most shamefully of you behind your back. making his vaunts, that he had you at a beck of his finger, and how that for a pint of Wine, he could cause you to follow him up and down over all the City. Florence, I am a fool to tell you thus much, it may be you will scarce believe it, and for my part, I will not urge you thereunto: but in troth, look what I tell you, it is for good will, because I have been sorry to see you abused.  
I thank you good Haunce (quoth she) I may believe it well enough: but from henceforth I know what I have to do: I confess indeed, that I have drunk with him abroad, but it was at his own earnest entreaty, neither could I ever be at quiet for the Knave, he doth so follow me up and down in every place, but seeing I know his dissimulation to be such, if I do not requite him in his kind, trust me no more: and now I am heartily sorry that I was so foolish as to follow him this day at his appointment: but seeing he hath served me thus, he shall not know of my coming out of doors, and therefore good Haunce, do not tell him that you met me this day on the fields.  
Nay in ●aith Florence (quoth he) I will not only be secret to thee, but will also from henceforth acquaint thee with all my proceedings. And having eaten their cream, Haunce brought her some part of the way homeward: and taking his leave of her, he went back to see if he could meet with John the Frenchman, who having stayed at Islington for Florence until almost night, and she not coming, he and the Musicians together were fain to eat up the meat, without more come pany, which caused John the Frenchman to swear like a Turk.  
And as he was coming homeward over the fields chafing and fretting to himself, who should he meet withal but Haunce the Dutchman, who said to him: What, John, who thought to meet you here? Here thou ●éest I am now, said John: but when came you from home? Marry but even now (quoth Haunce.) And who is at home, said John? The other answered, there was no body but their Mistress, and ●he Maid Florence, with the rest of the household: ●s Florence at home, said John? The devil take her for me, she hath made a right fool of me indeed▪ ●ow so, quoth Haunce? Then the other in a great chafe, said: Be God shall be revenged, Florence mock an me too much, too much she make me believe she love me, a me tinke ●o too, and be Go●●he make me a 〈◊〉 fool. When Haunce heard him say so, he said: Alas good John she love thee? if you think so, you are greatly deceived: for she is the ●co●●ingest quea● in London: And I have heard her behind your back, to mock and flout you, saying: Doth shitten John think that I will marry him? in faith sir no. When the Frenchman heard this he stamped like a mad man, and b●● his thumb saying; Mordue me shall be revenged be Got: shitten John? call a shitten John, hea? Ad●put in corroyname-shant, shitten John, no better name but shitten John? It is as I ●ell you quoth Haunce: an● moreover, ●he said she scorned to come after you to Islington, saying, she would see you hanged first. Well be no ma●ra, she no love me, me no love she, but me shall go home, me shall, and beat as a stockfish. Nay, do not so, said Haunce, but let her alone: for it is no credit for you to beat a woman: and besides that if you should, our Master would turn you out of doors; therefore be quiet a while, and be secret in that I have told you, then shall you see how she v●●th you.  
In this humour they d●●aried▪ at what time, John ●ull of melancholy, stood frowning by the fire side: and as the Maid went up and down the house about her business▪ he cast looks on her, as ●●erce as a Panther; but she, by reason of the Dutchmans' tale to her, shows herself as scornful as he was ●urrish, and not once cast her eye towards him, and thus they drove out the time of a ●●night or a fortnight.   

CHAP. XIIII.  
How Master Eyer was called upon to be Sheriff of London, and how he held his place with worship.  
●● this space Master Eyer following his business, had sold so much of his Merchandise as paid the Grecian his whole money▪ and yet had resting to himself three times as much as he had sold, whereof he trusted some to one ●lderman, and some to another, and a great deal amongst substantial Merchants; and for some had much ready money, which he employed in diverse Merchandizes: and became Adventurer at Sea, having (by God's blessing) many a prosperous voyage, whereby his riches daily increased.  
It chanced upon a time, that being in his study, casting up his accounts, he found himself to be clearly worth 12. or 13. thousand pounds, which he finding to be so, ●e called his wife to him, and said:  
The last day I did cast up my accounts▪ and I find that Almighty God of his goodness hath lent me thirtéene thousand pounds to maintain us in our old age, for which his gracious goodness towards us, let us with our whole hearts give his glorious Majesty eternal praise and there withal pray unto him that we may so dispose thereof, as may be to his honour, and the comfort of his poor members on earth, and above our neighbours may not be ●uffed up with pride, that while we think on our wealth we forget God that sent it va, for it hath been an old saying of a wise man, That abundance groweth from riches and disdain out of abundance: of which God give us grace to take h●●d, and grant us a contented mind.  
So soon as he had spoken this, they heard one knocking hastily at door; whereupon he sent Florence to see who it was, the Maiden coming again, told her Master it was one of my Lord Mayor's Officers that would speak with him. The Officer being permitted to come in, after due reverence, he said, Sir, it hath pleased my Lord Mayor, with the worshipful Aldermen his brethren, with the counsel of the whole communality of the honourable City, to choose your worship Sheriff of London this day, and have sent me to desire you to come and certify your mind therein, whether you be contented to hold the place or no.  
Master Eyer hearing this, answered he would come to his Honour and their worship's incontinent, and resolve them what he was minded to do; and so the Officer departed.  
His wife, which all this while listened unto their talk, hearing how the case stood, with a joyful countenance meeting her husband, taking him about the neck with a loving kiss, said, Master Sheriff, God give thee joy of thy name and place. O wife (quoth he) my person is far unworthy of that place, and the name far exceeds my degree.  
What, content yourself good husband (quoth she) and disable not yourself in such sort, but be thankful unto God for that you have, and do not spurn at such promotion as God sendeth unto you: the Lord be praised for it, you have enough to discharge the place whereto you are called with credit: and wherefore sendeth God goods, but there withal to do him and your Country service? Woman (quoth he) it is an old proverb, Soft fire makes sweet malt: for such as take things in hand rashly, repent as suddenly: to be Sheriff of London it is no little cost. Consider first (quoth he) what house I ought to have, and what costly ornaments belong thereunto, as hanging of Tapestry, cloth of Arras, and other such like, what store of Plate and Goblets of Gold, what costly attire, and what a chargeable train, and that which is most of all, how greatly I stand charged beside to our Sovereign Lord the King, for the answering of such prisoners as shallbe committed to my custody, with an hundred matters of such importance, which are to such an Office belonging.  
Good Lord Husband (quoth she) what need all these repetitions? you need not tell me it is a matter of great charge: notwithstanding I verily think many heretofore have with great credit discharged the place, whose wealth hath not in any sort been answerable to your riches, and whose wits have been as mean as your own: Truly Sir, shall I be plain? I know not any thing that is to be spoken of, that you want to perform it, but only your good will: and to lack good will to do your King and Country good, were a sign of an unworthy subject, which I hope you will never be.  
Well wi●e (said her husband) thou dost hold me here with ●rittle prattle, while the time passeth on, 'tis high time I were gone to Guild-hall, I doubt I shall appear too unmannerly, in causing my Lord Mayor, and the rest to stay my leisure. And he having made herself ready, meet to go before such an assembly as he went unto, he went out of doors, at what time his wife called after him, saying: and holding up her finger.  
Husband, remember, you know what I have said: take h●●de you dissemble not with God and the world, look to it husband: Go too, go too, get you in quoth he, about your business, and so away he went.  
So soon as he was gone out of sight, his wife sent one of his men after him to Gild Hall to hearken and hear, whether her husband held his place or no: and if he do, bring me word with all possible speed.  
I will Mistress quoth her man.  
Now when Master Eyer came to Gild Hall, the Lord Mayor and his brethren bade him heartily welcome, saying: Sir, the communality of the City having a good opinion of you, have chosen you for one of our Sheriffs for this year, not doubting but to find you a fit man for the place.  
My good Lord, quoth he, I humbly thank the City for their courtesy and kindness, and would to God my wealth were answerable to my good will, and my ability were able to bear it. But I find myself insufficient; ay most humbly desire a year respite more, and pardon for this present.  
At these words, a grave Commoner of the City standing up, with one reverence spoke thus unto the Mayor: My good Lord, this is but a slender excuse for Master Eyer to make; for I have often heard him say, and so have diverse others also, that he hath a Table in his house, where on he breaks his fast every day, that he will not give for a thousand pounds: Wherefore (under your Lordship's correction) in my simple judgement, I think he that is able to spare a thousand pounds in such a dead commodity, is very sufficient to be Sheriff of London. See you now, quoth my Lord, I muse Master Eyer, that you will have so lame an excuse before us, as to take exceptions at your own wealth, which is apparently proved sufficient; you must know Master Eyer, that the Commons of London have searching eyes, and seldom are they deceived in their own opinion, and therefore look what is done, you must stand to it.  
I beseech you my Lord (quoth Master Eyer) give me leave to speak one word. Let it be granted, that I will not give my Table whereon I break my fast for a thousand pounds, that is no consequence to prove it is worth so much, my fancy to the thing is all▪ for doubtless no man here would give me a thousand shillings for it when they see it. All is one for that, quoth my Lord Mayor, yet dare I give you as much wine as you will spend this year in your Shrivalty to let me have it: my good Lord quoth he, on that condition I will hold my place, and rest no longer troublesome to this company. You must hold, said my Lord, without any condition or exceptions at all in this matter: and so they ended.  
The Assembly being then broken up, the voice went M Eyer is Sheriff, Master Eyer is Sheriff. Whereupon the fellow that Mistress Eyer sent to observe how things framed, ran home in all haste, and with leaping and rejoicing said: Mistress, God give you joy, for you are now a Gentlewoman. What quoth she, tell mesir sauce, is thy Master Sheriff, or no● and doth he hold his place? Yes Mistress, been holds it now as fast as the stirrup doth the shoe while we sow it; why then (quoth she) I have my hearts desire, and that I so long looked for, and so away she went.  
Within a while after came her husband, and with him one of the Aldermen, and a couple of wealthy Commoners, one of them was he that gave such great commendations of his Table, and coming to his door, he said, You are welcome home good Master Sheriff▪ Nay, I pray you▪ come in and drink with me before you go.  
Then said he, Wife bring me forth the Pastry of Uenison, and set me here my little Table, that these Gentlemen may eat a bit with me before they go. His wife which had been oft used to this term, excused the matter, saying; The little Table! good Lord husband, I do wonder what you will do with the little Table now knowing that it is used already? I pray you good Husband, content yourself, and sit at this great Table this once. Then she whispered him in the ear, saying; What man, shall we shame ourselves? What shame (quoth he?) fell not me of shame, but do thou as thou art ●idden, for we are three or four of us, then what should we do troubling the great Table? Truly (answered she) the little Table is not ready: now good husband let it alone.  
Trust me we are troublesome guests (said the Alderman) but yet we would fain see your little Table, because it is said to been of such price. Yea, and it is my mind you shall, quoth Master Eyer: therefore he called his wife again, saying: Good wife, dispatch and prepare the little Table: for these Gentlemen would feign have a view of it▪  
Whereupon his wife seeing him so earnest, according to her wont manner, came in: and setting herself down on a low stool, laid a fair Napkin over her knees and set the platter with the pastry of Uenison thereupon and presently a chair was brought for Master Abderman, and a couple of stools for the two Commoners, which they beholding, with a sudden and hearty laughter, said; Why Master Sheriff, is this the table you ●eld so dear? Yes truly, quoth he. Now verily, quoth they, you herein have utterly deceived our expectation. Even so did you mine, quoth he, in making me Sheriff: but you are all right welcome, and I will tell you true, had I not thought wondrous well of you, you had not seen my Table now. And I think, did my Lord Maior see it as you do, he would repent his bargain so hastily made. Notwithstanding I account of my Table never the worse. Nor have you any cause (quoth they) and so after much pleasant talk, they departed, spreading the fame of Master Sheriffs little table over the whole City.  
But you must now imagine, that a thousand cares cumbered the Sheriff, in providing all things necessary for his office: at what time he put off his Shoemaker's shop to one of his men, and set up at the same time the sign of the Black Swan swimming upon the Sea, in remembrance of that Ship, that first did bring him his wealth, and before that time the sign of the Black Swan was never seen or known in any place in or about the City of London.   

CHAP. XIII.  
How Haunce having circumvented john the Frenchman's Love was by him and others finely deceived at the Garden.  
NOw at that time John the French man, and fair Florence were both at variance, as you heard before, by the Dutchmans' dealing▪ by which subtlety he sought means to win favour for himself: which John the Frenchman perceived, and therefore went about not only to prevent him, but to take revenge on him for his deceitfulness. And meeting Florence as she went into the Garden for flowers, he began to talk thus unto her.  
What Florence, you go to the Garden? And how then, quoth she, what have you to say to that? Me sea nothing, but you be discontent; you no speak a me, you no look a me, nor you no drink with me, nor noting a● Florence, how chance dat?  
Go get thee hence, prating fool, quoth she, I drink with thee? thou shall be piepeck first. Piepecke? What be pie pecked a hea? Be ●o● Florence, you make me a ●acke nape, you mock a mae, and call 〈◊〉 shitten Jan, and you be soproud, because Haunce lo●●e you, dat shall be marvel: but and if you call me shitten John any more, par ma foy shall not put up, shall not take at your hands. Who told you▪ that I called you shitten John, quoth Florence, I never called you so. No Florence! you no call a me shitten John? a so me●●ant villain ●●lard Haunce tell a me so: I never said so, quoth Florence. But Haunce told me that you made your boast that I was at a beck of your finger; and that you could make me follow you up and down the whole City for a pint of Wine; no, I would you should well understand, I will not follow a better man than you. Of me fet Florence, me never sea so. No? yes, quoth she but you did, I can tell you by a good foken, for that very time that I should have met you at Islington▪ you said it, and made me a fool to come over the fields to you, and when all came to all, you sent Haunce to tell me you were gone there hence long agone.  
Ahcet taking Haun●r, quoth John, be des fen bon, '●is true, for me tarry dear more den one▪ two free hour, and had provide shapon, the rabbit, the cream, the pu●ing pie, and twenty ding more. Well, howsoever it was, I am sure, I was made an ass betwixt you, and for that cause I will be ware how I show kindness again to any: therefore John I pray you be gone, and seek some other company, for you shall not go with me: No said John? Wellden, adieu Florence, and so they par●ed.  
Now it is to be understood, that Haunce had promised Florence to meet her in the garden, and to bring with him a bottle of wine, and there in the presence of a Maid or two more, to make themselves sure together: and she for that purpose, had carried with her a good corner of a venison pastry. But there was an English journeyman in the house called Nicolas that understood thereof, who meeting with John the French man, he made him privy thereunto saying; Trust me John, if thou wilt be ruled by me, we will not only disappoint this match, but also with their good cheer make ourselves merry▪ John, who was glad and ready to do the Dutchman any injury, consented to follow Nicolas his counsel in any thing.  
Then, quoth Nicholas, it shall be thus: I will go to the Garden; and stay for Haunce his coming with the wine, and in the mean space do thou hide thyself under one of the hedges of the Garden on the other side, and with thee take a couple of pots, and let ●he one be em●t●, and the other filled with water, and when Haunce is come into the Garden with his bottle of wine (now he will not let me see it by his good will, notwithstanding) i'll obseruo well where he doth set it down, and then I will find the means, while they are busy in toying and talking, to convey the bottle of wine through the hedge to ti●e, and likewise the Uenison: then emptying the bottle, thou shalt fill it with water, and thrusting it through the hedge again▪ it shall be set where ●●rst it was sound, which being done, thou shalt ●astily rap at the Garden door, at what time they shall be told that it is my Master or Mistress, which they hearing, will be in such a maze, that on a sudden they will not know which way to turn themselves, especially for the conveying away of Haunce: Now when you have knocked twice or thrice, and that ●ou hear no body come to the door, ●et you away, and stay for me at the Rose in Barking, and there we will drink up their wine, eat up the Uenison: and this being done, wēe●e laugh them to s●orne.  
Truly Nicholas, quosh John the Frenchman, this will been brave, and thereupon they prepared themselves to do the seat. Nicholas therefore got him into the Garden, and by and by after comes Haunce with the bottle of Wine, who knocking at the Garden door was strait let in: but seeing Nicholas there, he secretly set his bottle in a corner: but Nick, who had as searching eyes as Argoes in his business, quickly did as before he had determined, and in stead of wine set the bottle down again, where he first found it, full of water.  
Then comes John, and lustily knocked at the door. There is our Master and Mistress (quoth Nicholas,) Alas quoth Florence, what shall we do for Haunce? Then rapt he at the door again; Alas, quoth she, get you over the hedge. Shall I open the door, quoth Nick? O no said Florence, not yet good Nick. With that he knocked more hastily, Anon, anon, quoth she. ●ence Haunce: ●oe to the door Nick, Who is there, quoth he? and with that opening the door ●ound ●ust no bo●●. Truly Florence, said he, they are gone whosoever they were. God be with you, I can stay no longer.  
When he was departed, the Maids wished that Haunce▪ had been there again. Alas poor fellow (quoth they) is he gone, and left his bottle behind him? Marry I am glad that it is no worse, quoth Florence: And now, that the wine is here, we will drink it for his sake, and I have here a morsel of Uenison, that will give it a good ●el●●●: and therewithal looking for it, she found the cloak, but the mea●e gone. Now a vengeance on it (quoth ●he) one skuruy ●u●●e or other hath got into the Garden, and took away the meat.  
O God, what ill luck is that (quoth the Maid!) a murrain on th●t cur that got it: but seeing it is gone, farewell it. Well, sa● Florence, here is the wine yet, ● know it is excellent good: for he told me he● would bring a bottle of the best Rhenish wine that in London could be bought: and I am certain he is as good as his word. But believe me joan, he is as kindhearted, and as loving a fellow as ever professed love to any: I assure you, that here is a cup of Wine that the King might drink thereof: but how shall we do for a glass▪ W●●le drink it out of the bottle, said joan. Notso (quoth Florence) I do love to see what ● drink, and therefore I'll borrow a glass at the next house. And while she goes for a glass, said joan to herself, I'll have a taste of it before ●he returns again: and then setting her hand unto the bottle, and the bottle to her mouth, she drank a good draught, and finding it to be something thin in the going down she said to Bess that sat by: Credit me now, but for the name of Wine, I have drunk as good water. It is ●enish Wine (quoth Bess) and that is never strong. It may be made of rain well enough, quoth joan. At which words Florence entry with a glass: and pouring it out into the glass, she extolled the colour, saying: See what a brave colour it hath, it is as clear I do● assure you as rocke-water: and therewithal drinking it off, she said, it drinks very dead: Of a troth quoth she, this is but bad Wine, it is even as dead as a door nail: and so ●●lling the glass again, ●hee gave it unto Bess: the tasting thereof said: Passion of me, this is plain water. Water, said joan? is it water: let me taste of it once again: by my Maidenhead it is water indeed (quoth she) Water, said Florence, verily you have pla●d the drabs in drinking out the wine, and filling the bottle again with water. 〈◊〉 my faith (quoth joan) you say not true in so saying: I would you did understand, we played not the ●rabs in an▪ such sort, but Haunce rather played the ●na●e that brought 〈◊〉 water in stead of Wine. Nay (quoth Florence) ●●are not swear for him that he would not serve you so. for all the wealth my Master is worth. And I am persuaded it was no body but yourselves that 〈◊〉 it: but in faith you might have dealt so with another and not with me. Nay then quoth they, you need not to serve us so, to cause us drink water in stead of wine: and we would you should think, although you be Master Sheriffs Mai●e● we love our mouths as well as you do yours for your 〈◊〉, and it was but an homely recompense for our goo● will, I tell you true: neither do we care how little we come to be thus de●●ded. Goe to ●●e too, sa●● Florence, you are like to penelope's puppy, that doth both bi●e and whine, I know you well enough. Know us (quoth oa●●?) What do you know by us? we de●●e you for any thing you can say by us. Know us? Nay, it were well if thou did 〈◊〉 know thyself, and hencest thou? though thou hast thy companions to meet thee at thy pleasure, and we have not: no, know us? we are known to be as honest as thou a●t, or else we should be sorry; and to the ●e●arted in a ●hase.  
Now John the Frenchman and Nicholas having eaten the venison, and drunk up the wine, came back again time enough to hear all this strife whereat they greatly re●oyced. But so soon as Florence did meet with Haunce again, ●he kept no small stir for mocking her with a bottle of water: about the which they fell at variance, in such 〈◊〉 that they were not friends for a long time after.  
But during the time that Haunce was out of ●auour, Nicholas ●o●●●t the Ma●●es friendship by all the means he might, but in ●ine was ●●s pains spent therein: for although Florence (outwardly ●●●med much displeased. yet Haunce had her heart still, and in process of ●●ne obtained great favour: the matter was grown ●o forward▪ that the performance of their marriage was forthwith a●●ointed, which they intended should been celebrated at the Abbey of Grace 〈◊〉 Tower Hill. Notwithstanding, this matter was not 〈◊〉 so close, but that their secret dealings were known, and Nicholas purposing to deceive the Dutchman, made John Frenchman pr●●● there●nto, saying; John, it is so that this night at midnight ●●sse; Florence and Haunce do intent secretly to be married, and they have appointed the Friar to do it so soon as the Tapers are all pu●out, because they will not be seen of any: Therefore John, i● no● 〈◊〉 will be my friend, ● do not doubt but to marry her myself, 〈◊〉 so to give the Dutchman she ●●●mpam, and ●ore him through ●●●●se with a 〈◊〉. H● (quoth John) be G●t me shall do as you sea, and therefore Nicholas tell a me what you do. Marry John, quoth he, you know the Dutchman louet● to drink well, and by that he loveth, we'll cause him to lose his Love, ●or we will get him out to the ●●uerne, and there cause him to be disguised, that he shall neither be able to stand nor go; and while he lies parbreaking his mind▪ I'll go and marry the Maid. The Frenchman hearing this, scratched his head, and rubbing his elbow, said, Ma●foy, Nicholas, ●●s be de f●ne trick: how shall we get him forth adoors? Excellent well, quoth Nicholas, for there is a new ●ourney man come to Town with Sir Hugh's bones at his back, and you know, that we being of the Gentle Craft, must go give him his welcome, and I will tell Haunce thereof, who being now very ●ocund, by reason that his marriage is so near, will not deny to come, I know. Therefore you and the strange journeyman shall go before to the Tavern, and then I will go fetch him. Ab●ene, content, content said John.  
And so to the Tavern he hasted with the strange man. Anon comes Nicholas and Haunce, and with them two or three journeymen more, and all to the new journeyman: sitting down, they get Haunce. in the midst, called for wine lustily, and such varieties, us the Dutchman was soon set packing, for every one sought to overcharge him, and being himself of a good kind to take his liquor, spared not to pledge every man. At what time in the midst of his cups, being well whittled, his tongue ran at random (as wine is the bewrayer of secrets) so it proved by him, for there he opened to his companions all his whole mind, saying, My hearts, for all I sit here, I must been a married man ere morning. God give you joy (quoth they) but who shall you marry, said Nick, Florence? Yea, Florence, said the Dutchman, that is the Lass that I do love, and all the world cannot deceive me of her now, I am the man that must have her Maidenhead, and this night we must been married at the Abbey of Grace; and if you be good fellows, go with me to Church, will yo● go with me? Will we ge● with thee? (said John Frenchman) that we will. O John (said Haunce) have wiped your nose, and Nickes too, you must wear the willow Garland. Well, what remedy (quoth they) it is the better for you: but in faith Haunce, seeing it is so (quoth Nick) we'll have one ●ottle of wine more, that we may drink to the health of your fair Bride. I'll pledge her if it be a gallon (quoth Haunce.) Be my set and troth, said John, we'll ha●e ● gallon. Hea Drawer, where be you? I pray you bring me agalloch of the best Claret, and a gallon of the best Sack, shall make merry I set: what Florence be merry and I no know? ●ut by the time this Wine was drunk, Haunce was laid up for walking any more that night. When Nick perceived that, he stole suddenly out of the Tavern, and went to meet Florence at the appointed place: but john quickly missing him, knew strait whereabout he went, got ●●n presently to th● Constable of the postern Gate, and told him, that Nick had laid a man for dead in Tower street, and that he was gone to save himself under the prfu●ledge of the Abbey of Grace, but (quoth he▪ if you will go along, I shall bring him out with fair words unto you, and then I desire you to clap him up to answer this matter in the morning. But where dwell you, said the Constable? I do dwell with Master Alderman Eyer (quoth john) and there you shall have me at all times, The Constable did as john bade him, and committed Nicholas to prison. In the mean space, Florence, and an old woman of Tower street, said that they did go to a woman's labour, and by that means they passed along by the Watch, and to the Abbey of Grace they came. They had not long been there, but that john Frenchman meeting them, said; Florence, well met, here is a fit place to finish that I have long looked for: john (quoth ●he) thou art like an evil spirit that must been contured out before a body shall get any quietness, urge not me upon any such matters, for you be not the man I look for, and therefore, as taking little pleasure in your presence, as of your proffers; I would be very glad to see your back. What said john, have you no compassion upon a poor man? you be hard hearted indeed. But as he was uttering these speeches, it was his wife's chance to hear his ●on●ue, being newly come from the Barge at Billingsgate, and at that time going towards Saint Katherine's, to see if she could me te with some of her Country folks, that could tell her any tidings of her husband, but as I said, hearing his tongue, and knowing him by his speech, she said, What, john Denevale? my husband john Denevale? What make you wed pretty wence hea? At which words john was stricken into such a dump, that he wist not what to say: notwithstanding, hearing Florence to ask if she was his wife he answered and said, Yea. O thou dissembling fellow, quoth she, it is ●uen so: Didst thou say thou wast a Bachelor; seeking to marry me, and hast a wife alive? now ●●e on thee: O good Lord, how was I ble●● to escape him? nay, now I see, that Haunce may have a wife 〈◊〉 Flaunders too, although he be here: and therefore by the grace of God, I will not marry a stranger. O (quoth John) I thought my wife had been dead, but seeing ●he is alive, I will not lose her for twenty thousand crowns. So Florence departed, and left John with his wife.  
Now, Haunce never waking until it was next day at noon; wh●r● he saw he had overslept himself, being very sorry, he went home, not knowing how to excuse his folly to Florence, whom she now usterly forsóoke, as well in regard of his drunkenness as for that being a stranger, he might (like John Frenchman) have another wife living, But Nicholas (that all this while lay in prison) being brought before Alderman Eyer, rehearted the truth, and craving pardon for his offence, was without more ado delivered. And Florence being called before him, he made up the match between her and his man Nicholas, marrying them out of his house with great credit, giving them a good stock to begin the world withal: also for John Frenchman d'ye did very much, and showed himself a good Master to his man Haunce, and to all the rest of his servants.   

CHAP. XVI.  
How Master Alderman Eyre was chosen Lord Mayor of London, and and how he feasted all the Prentices on Shrove-tuesday.  
Within a few years after Alderman Eyre being ●ha●en Lord Ma●or of London, changing his copy, he became one of the Worshipful Company of Drayers, and for this year he kept a mo●● be ●ntifull house. At this time it came into his mind what a promise once he made to the Prentices, being at breakfast with them at their going to the Conduit, speaking to his Lady in this wife. ●oo● Lord quoth he) what a chance have we had within these thirty years? And how greatly hath the Lord blessed us ●●uce that? blessed ●e his Name for it.  
I d●e remember, when I was a young Apprentice, what a match I made upon a Shrove▪ tuesday morning, ●ein● at the Canduit among other of my companions; trust me wise (quoth he) 'tis worth the hearing, and I'll tell thee how it f●ll out.  
After we had filled out. Tankards with water, there was some would needs have me set down my Tankard, a●● go● with them ●o breakfast (as many times before I had done) to which I consented: and it was a breakfast of Pudding pies. I shall never forget it: But to make short, when the shot came to be paid, each one drew out his money, but I had not one penny in my purse, and credit I had none in the place; which when I behe●d, being abashed, I said; Well my Masters, do you give me my breakfast this time; and in requital thereof, if ever I be Mayor of London, I'll bestow a breakfast on all the prentices of the City: these were the words, little thinking (God wot) that ever it should come to pass: but such was the great goodness of our God, who setteth up the humble, and pulleth down ●he proud, to bring whom he pleaseth to the seat of honour. For, as the Scripture witnesseth, Promotion cometh neither from the East nor from the West, but from him that is the giver of all good things, the mighty Lord of Heaven and Earth: Wherefore wife seeing God bathe bestowed that upon me that I never looked for; it ●s reason that I should perform my promise: and being able now, I'll pay that which then I was not able to do: for & would not have men say that I am like the Ebon tree, that neither bear's leaves nor fruit. Wherefore wife, seeing that Shrone. Tuesday is so near at hand, I will upon that day fulfil my promise: which upon that day I made. Truly (my Lord) quoth thee, I will be right willing thereunto. Then answered my Lord, as thou dost love me, let them lack neither Pudding p●es nor Pancakes, and look what other good cheer is to be had, I will refer all to your discretion. Hereupon great provision was made for the Prentices breakfast: and Shrove-tuesday being come, the Lord Mayor sent word to the Aldermen, that in their several Wards they should signify his mind to the Citizens, to ●ra●e their favours that their Prentices might come to his house to breakfast, and that for his sake they might play all the day after.  
Hereupon it was ordered, that at the ringing of a Bell in every Parish, the Prentices should leave work and shut up their shops for that day, which being ever since yearly observed, it is called the Pancake bell. The prentices being all assembled my Lord Mayor's house was not able to hold them, they were such a multitude: so that besides the great ●all, all the gardens were set with Tables, an● 〈◊〉 the backside Tables were set, and every other spare place was also furnished: so that at length the Prentices were all placed, and while ●ea●e was bringing in, to delight their e●res, as well as to ●éede their bodies, and to drown the noise of their pra●lings, Drums and Trumpets were pleasantly sounded: that being ended, the Waits of the City, with diverse other sorts of music played also to begutle the time, and to put off all discontent.  
After the first service, were all the Tables pleutifully furnished with ●udding-p●e● and Pancakes, in very plentiful manner; and the rest that remained was given to the poor. Wine and Ale in very great measure they had given, insomuch that they had no lack, nor excess to cause them to be ●isordered. And ●u the midst of this their merriment, the Lord & a or in his scarlet gown, and his Lady in like manner went in amongst them, bidding them all most heart●ly welcome, saying unto them, that his promise so long ago made, he hath at length performed. At what time they (in token of thankfulness) slung up their Caps, giving a great shout, and incontinently they all quietly departed.  
Then after this, Sir Simon Eyer builded Leaden-Hall, appointing that in the midst thereof there should been a Market place kept every Monday for Leather, where the Shoemakers of London, for their more ease, might buy of the ●anners, without seeking any further. And in the end, this worthy man ended his life in London with great Honour.  
FINIS.