THOMAS OF Reading. OR, The six worthy yeomen of the West.  
Now the fourth time corrected and enlarged By T. D.  
Printed at London for T. P. 1612.   

¶ The pleasant History of the six worthy Yeomen of the West.  
IN the days of King Henry the first, who was the first king that instituted the high court of Parliament, there lived nine men, which for the trade of Clothing, were famous throughout all England. Which Art in those days was held in high reputation, both in respect of the great riches that thereby was gotten, as also of the benefit it brought to the whole Common wealth: the younger sons of knights and gentlemen, to whom their fathers would leave no lands, were most commonly preferred to learn this trade, to the end that thereby they might li●e in good estate, & dri●e forth their days in prosperity.  
Among all Crafts, this was the only chief, for that it was the greatest merchandise, by the which our Country became famous through all Nations. And it was verily thought, that the one ha●●e of the people in the landli●ed in those days thereby, and in such good sort, that in the Commonwealth there was few or no beggars at all: poor people, whom God lightly blesseth with most children, did by means of this occupation so order them, that by the time that they were come to be six or seven years of age, they were able to get their own bread: Idleness was then banished our coast, so that it was a rare thing to hear of a thief in those days. Therefore it was not without cause that Clothiers were then both honoured and loved, among whom these nine persons in this King's days were of great credit, viz. Thomas Cole of Reading, Grace of Gloucester, Sutton of Salisbury, Fitzallen of Worcester, (commonly called William of Worcester) ●om Dove of Exeter, and Simon of South hampton, alias Sup-broath: who were by the King called, The ●ixe worthy husbands of the West. Then were there three living in the North, that is to say, Cuthbert of Kendal, Hodgekins of Hallifax, and Martin Byram of Manchester. Every one of these kept a great number of servants at work, spinners, carders, weavers, fullers, dyer's, shéeremen, and rowers, to the great admiration of all those that came into their houses to behold them.  
Now you shall understand, these gallant Clothiers, by reason of their dwelling places, separated themselves in three several companies: Grace of Gloucester, William of Worcester, and Thomas of Reading, because their journey to London was all one way, they conversed commonly together. And Dove of Exeter, Sutton of Salisbury and Simon of Southampton, they in like sort kept company the one with the other, meeting ever altogether at Bazingstoke: and the ●ji northern Clothiers did the like, who commonly did not meet, till they came to Bosoms Inn in London.  
Moreover, for the love and delight that these western men had each in others company, they did so provide, that their wanes and themselves would ever meet upon one day in London at jarrats' hall, surnamed the Giant, for that he surpassed all other men of that age, both in stature & strength: whose merriments and memorable deeds, I will set down unto you in this following discourse.  

How King Henry sought the savour of all his subjects, especially of the Clothiers. Chap. 1.  
THis King Henry, who for his great learning and wisdom was called Beauclarke, being the third son to the renowned Conqueror: after the death of his brother William Rufus, took upon him the government of this land, in the absence of his second brother Robert Duke of Normandy, who at this time was at wars against the Infidels, and was chosen King of jerusalem, the which he, for the love he bore to his own country, refused▪ and with great honour returned from the holy Land; of whose coming when King Henry understood, knowing he would make claim to the crown, sought by all means possible to win the goodwill of his Nobility & to get the favour of the Commons by courtesy: for the obtaining whereof he did them many favours thereby the better to strengthen himself against his brother.  
It chanced on a time, as he, with one of his sons, and divers of his Nobility, rode from London towards Wales, to appease the fury of the Welshmen, which then began to raise themselves in arms against his authority, that he met with a great number of Waine● loaden with cloth, coming to London; and seeing them still drive on one after another so many together, demanded whose they were: the Wainemen answered in this sort: Coals of Reading (quoth they.) Then by and by the King asked an other, saying: Whose cloth is all this? Old Coals (quoth he:) and again anon after he asked the same question to other, and still they answered, Old Coals. And it is to be remembered, that the King met them in such a place, so narrow and straight, that he with all the rest of his train, were fain to stand up close to the hedge, whilst the carts passed by, the which at that time being in number above two hundred, was near hand an hour ere the King could get room to be gone: so that by his long stay, he began to be displeased, although the admiration of that sight did much qualify his furi●; but breaking out in discontent, by reason of his stay, he ●●d, he thought old Cole had got a Commission for all the car●s in the Country to carry his cloth. And how if he have (quoth one of the Wainemen) doth that grieve you, good sir? Yea good sir, said our King, what say you to that? The fellow seeing the king (in ask that question) to bend his brows, though he knew not what he was, yet being abashed, he answered thus: Why sir; if you be angry, no body can hinder you; for possible sir, you have Anger at commandment. The king seeing him in uttering of his words to quiver and quake, laughed heartily at him, as well in respect of his simple answer, as at his fear: and so soon after the last wain went by, which gave present passage unto him and his Nobles: and thereupon entering into communication of the commodity of clothing, the king gave order at his home return, to have Old Cole brought before his Majesty, to the intent he might have conference with him, noting him to be a subject of great ability. But by that time he came within a mile of Stanes, he met an other company of wanes in like sort laden with cloth, whereby the King was driven into a further admiration: and demanding whose they were, answer was made in this sort: They be goodman Suttons of Salisbury, good sir: and by that time a score of them were passed, he asked again, saying: whose are these? Suttons of Salisbury (quoth they) and so still, as often as the King asks that question, they answered, Suttons of Salisbury. God send me many such Suttons, said the king. And thus the farther he traveled westward, more wanes and more he met continually: upon which occasion he said to his Nobles. That it would never grieve a King to die for the defence of a fertile country and faithful subjects. I always thought (quoth he) that England's valour was more than her wealth, yet now I see her wealth sufficient to maintain her valour, which I will seek to cherish in all I may, and with my Sword keep myself in possession of that I have. Kings and Lovers can brook no partners, and therefore let my brother Robert think, that although he was heir to England by birth, yet I am King by possession. All his favourers I must account my foes, and will serve them as I did the ungrateful earl of Shrewsbury, whose lands I have seized, and banished his body. But now we will leave the King to his ●ourney into Wales, and waiting his home return, in the mean time tell you of the meeting of these jolly Clothiers at London.   

How William of Worcester, Grace of Gloucester, and old Coal of Reading, met all together at Reading, & of their communication by the way as they ●ode to London. Chap. 2.  
WHen Grace of Gloucester, and William of Worcester were come to Reading, according to their custom, they always called old Cole to have his company to London, who also duly attended their coming, having provided a good breakfast for them: and when they had well refreshed themselves, they took their horses and road on towards the City: and in their journey William of Worcester asked them if they had not heard of the Earl of Moraigne his escape out of the land: what is he fled quoth Grace? I muse much of that matter, being in such great regard with the king as he was: but I pray you, do you not know the cause of his going quoth, Cole? The common report, quoth Grace, is this that the covetous earl, who through a greedy desire, never left begging of the King for one thing or other, and his request being now denied him, of mere obstinacy and wilful frowardness, hath banished himself out of the land, and quite forsaken the Country of Cornwall, having made a vow never to set foot within England again, and as report goeth, he with the late banished Earl of Shrowsbury, have joined themselves with Robert duke of Normandy, against the king, the which action of theirs hath inflamed the king's wrath, that their Ladies with their children are quite turned out of doors succourless & friendless, so that as it is told me, they wander up and down the country like forlorn people, and although many do pity them, yet few do relieve them.  
A lamentable hearing, qd William of Worcester and with that casting their eyes aside, they espied Tom Dove with the rest of his companions come riding to meet them, who as soon as they were come thither, fell into such pleasant discourses, as did shorten the way they had to Colebroke, where always at their coming towards London they dined: and being entered into their Inn, according to old custom, good chaere was provided for them: for these Clothiers were the chiefest guests that traveled along the way: and this was as sure as an act of Parliament, that Tom Dove could not digest his meat without music, nor drink wine with out women, so that his hostess being a merry wench, would often times call in two or three of her neighbour's wi●es to keep him company, where, ere they parted, they were made as pleasant as P●es. And this being a continual custom amongst them when they came thither, at length the women's husbands began to take exceptions at their wi●es going thither: whereupon great controversy grew between them, in such sort, that when they were most restrained, than they had most desire to work their wills: now gip (quoth they) must we so be tied to our task, that we may not drink with our friends? ste, fie, upon these yellow hose, will no other die serve your turn? have we thus long vin your wines, and do you now mistrust us? verily you eat two much salt, and that makes you grow choleric, bad livers judge all other the like, but in faith you shall not bridle us so like Asses, but we will go to our friends, when we are sent for, and do you what you can. Well quoth their husbands, if you be so headstrong, we will teme you, it is the duty of honest women to obey their husband's sayings. And of honest men (quoth they) to think well of their wives; but who do sooner inpeach their credit, than their husbands, charging them, if they do but smile, that they are subtle, and if they do but wink, they account, them willy, if sad of countenance, then sullen, if they be froward, then are they counted shrews, and sheepish, if they be gentle: if a woman keep her house, than you will say she is melancholy, if she walk abroad, than you call her a gadder, a Puritan, if she be pretise, and a wanton, if she be pleasant; so there is no woman in the world that knows how to please you, that w●s think ourselves accursed to be married wives, living with so many woes. These men, of whose company you forewarn us, are (for aught that ever we saw) both honest and courteous, and in wealth far beyond yourselves; then what reason is there, why we should refrain to usite them? is their good will so much to be requited with scorn, that their cost may not be countervailed with our company? if a woman be disposed to play light of love, alas, alas, do you think that you can prevent her? Nay, we will abide by it, that the restraint of liberty enforceth women to belewd: for where a woman cannot be trusted, she cannot think herself beloved, and if not beloved, what cause hath she to care for such a one● therefore husbands, reform your opinions, and do not work your own woes, with our discredit, These Clothiers, we tell you are tolly fellows, and but in respect of our courtesy, they would scorn out company.  
The men hearing their wines so well to plendfor themselves, knew not how to answer, but said, they would put the burden on their consciences, if they dealt unjustly with them, and so left them to their own wills. The women having thus conquered their husband's conceits, would not leave the favour of their friends for frownts, and as about the rest Tom Dove was the most pleasantest, so was he had in most reputation with the women, who for his sake made this Song.  

Welcome to town, Tom Dove, Tom Dove,  
The merriest man alive,  
Thy company still we love, we love,  
God grant thee well to thrive,  
And never will depart from thee,  
For better or wor●e, my joy,  
For thou shalt still have our good will;  
God's blessing on my sweet Boy.   
This song went up and down through the whole country, and at length became a dance among the common sort, so that Tom Dove, for his mirth and good fellowship, was famous in every place. Now when they came to London, they were welcome to the host larrat the Giant and assoon as they were alighted, they were saluted by the Merchants, who waited their coming thither, and always prepared for them a costly supper, where they commonly made their bargain, and upon every bargain made, they still used to send some tokens to the Clothier's wives. The next morning they went to the hall, where they met the Northern clothiers, who greeted one another in this sort, What, my masters of the West, well met: what cheer? what there? Even the best cheer our Merchants could make us, (quoth Grace.) Then you could not choose but fare well, quoth Hogekins: and you be weary of our company, adien, quoth Sutton, Not so, said Martin but shall we not have a game ere we go? Yes faith for a hundred pounds. Well said, old Cole, said they: and with that Coal and Grace went to the dice with Martin and Hogekins; and the dice running on Hogekins side, Coles money began to waste. Now by the Mass, quoth Cole, my money shrinks as had as northern cloth. When they had played long, Grace stepped to it and recovered again the money that Cole had lost. But while they were thus playing, the rest being delighted in contrary matters, every man satisfied his own humour.  
Tom Dove called for music, William of Worcester for wine, Sutton set his delight in hearing merry tales, Simon of Southampton got him into the kitchen, and to the pottage pot he goes, for he esteemed more of a mess of pottage, than of a venison pasty. Now sir, Cuthbert of Kendal was of another mind, for no meat pleased him so well as mutton, such as was laced in a red petticoat. And you shall understand, that always when they went to dice, they got into bosoms Inn, which was so called of his name that kept it, who being a foul sloven, went always with his no●s in his bosom, and one hand in his pocket, the other on his staff, figuring forth a description of cold winter, for he always wore two coats, two caps, two or three pair of stockings, and a high pair of shoes, over the which he drew on a great pair of lined s●ippers, and yet he would oft complain of cold, wherefore of all men generally he was called Old Bosom, and his house Bosoms Inn.  
This lump of cold ice had lately married a young wife, who was as wily as she was wanton, and in her company did Cuthbert only delight, and the better to make passage to his love, be would often thus commune with her: I muse good wife, quoth he. Good wife, quoth she? verily sir, in mine opinion, there is none good but good, and therefore call me Mistress. Then said Cuthbert, Fair Mistress, I have often mused that you being so proper a woman, could fi●d in your heart for to match with such a greasy Carl as this, an evil mannered mate, a foul lump of kitchen stuff, and such a one as is indeed a scorn of men; how can you like him that all women mislikes? or love such a loathsome creature? me thinks verily it should grieve you to lend him a kiss, much more to lie with him. Indeed sir, quoth she, I had but hard fortune in this respect, but my friends would have it so & truly my liking and my love toward him are alike, he never had the one, nor never shall get the other: yet I may say to you, before I married him, there were divers proper young men that were suitors unto me, who loved me as their lines, and glad was he that could get my company, those were my golden days, wherein my pleasure abounded, but these are my years of care and grief, wherein my sorrows exceed. Now no man regards me, no man cares for me, and albeit in secret they might bear me good will, yet who dares show it? and this is a double grief, he carries over me so jealous a mind. that I cannot look at a man, but presently he accuseth me of inconstancy, although (I protest) without cause.  
And in troth quoth Cutb. he should have cause to complain for somewhat, were I as you. As sure as I live, and so he shall, quoth she, if he do not change his bias. Cutb. hearing her say so, began to grow further in requesting her favour, wishing he might be her servant and secret friend, and the better to obtain his desire, he gave her divers gifts, insomuch that she began something to listen unto him: and albeit she liked well of his speeches, yet would she blame him, and take him up very short sometimes for the same, till in the end, Cuthbert showed himself to be desperate, saying he would drown himself rather then live in her disdain. O my sweet heart not so, qd she, God forbid I should be the death of any man: Comfort thyself, kind Cuthbert, and take this kiss in token of further kindness, and if thou wilt have my favour, thou must be wise and circumspect, and in my husband's sight I would always have thee to find fault with my doings, blame my bad housewifery, dispraise my person, and take exceptions at every thing, whereby he will be as well pleased, as Simon of Southampton with a mess of Pottage.  
De●re mistrsse quoth he, I will fulfil your charge to the uttermost, so that you will not take my jest in earnest. She answered, Thy foulest speeches I will esteem the fairest and take every dispraise to be a praise from thee, turning ●ch word to the contrary: and so for this time adieu, good Cutb. for supper time draws near, & it is meet for me to look for my meat. With that down comes old Bo●ome, calling his wife, saying, Ho Wiinifred, is supper ready? they have done playing above: Therefore let the Chamberlain cover the table. By and by husband, qd. she, it shall be done strait way. How now my masters who wins, qd. Cutb. Our money walks to the west, qd. Martin: Cole hath won forty li. of me, & Grace hath gotten well: the best is qd, Hogekins, they will pay for our supper: Then let us have good store of sack, qd Sutton. Content, said Cole, for I promise you, I strive not to grow rich by dice-playing, therefore call for what you will, I will pay for all. Yea said Simon! Chamberlain, I pray thee bring a whole pottle of pottage for me, Now Tom Dove had all the Fiddlers at a beck of his finger, which follow him up and down the city, as diligent as little Chickens after a hen, and made a vow, that there should want no music. And at that time, there lived in London a musician of great reputation, named Reior, who kept his servants in such costly garments, that they might seem to come before any Prince. Their Coats were all of one colour; and it is said, that afterward the nobility of this Land, noting it for a seemly sight, used in like manner to keep their men all in one livery. This Reior was the most skilfullest musician that lived at that time▪ whose wealth was very great, so that all the instruments whereon his servants played, were richly garnished with studs of silver, and some gold: the bows belonging to their Uiolins were all likewise of pure silver. He was also for his wisdom called to great office in the city, who also builded (at his own cost, the priory and hospital of Saint Bartholomew in Smithfield, his servants being the best comfort in the City, were by Tom Dove appointed to play before the young princes. Then supper being brought to the board they all sat down, and by and by after comes up their host, who took his place among them and anon after, the goodwife in a red piticoat & a waistcoat, comes among them as white as a Lily, saying, My masters, you are welcome, I pray you be merry. Thus falling close to their meat, when they had well fed, they found leisure to talk one with another: at what time Cutb. began thus to find fault, Iwis, my host, quoth he▪ you have a wise housewife to your wife, here is meat dressed of a new fashion. God sends meat, and the devil sends cooks. Why what ails the meat, quoth she; serves it not your turn? better men than yourself are content withal, but a paltry companion is ever worst to please. Away, you fluttish thing, qd. Cutb. your husband hath a sweet jewel of you: I marvel such a grave ancient man would match himself with such a young giglot, that hath as much handsomeness in her as good huswifry, which is just nothing at all. Well sir, said she, in regard of my husband's presence I am loath to aggravate anger, otherwise I would tell thee thy own. Go to, what need all this, quoth the company? in good faith. Gutb. you are too blame, you find fault where none is. Tush, I must speak my mind, quoth Cuthbert, I cannot dissemble, I trust the goodman thinks never the worse of me, so I have his good will, what the foul evil care I for his wives. Enough, quoth Tom Dove, let us with music remove these brabbles, we mean to be merry, and not melancholy. Then said old Cole, Now trust me Cuthbert, we will have our hostess and you friends ere we part: here, woman, I drink to you, and regard not his words, for he is brabbling wheresoever he comes. Quoth the woman, nothing grieves me so much, as that he should thus openly check me, if he had found any thing amiss, he might have spied a better time to tell me of it then now, iwis he need not thrust my had housewifery into my husband's head, I live not so quietly with him, God wot: and with that she wept. Come Cutb. quoth they drink to her, & shake hands and be friends. Come on, you puling baggage, quoth he, I drink to you here will you pledge me and shake hands? No quoth she) I will see thee choked first, shake hands with thee! I will shake hands with the devil assoon: Go to, said her husband, you shall shake hands with him then, if you will not shake hands, I'll shake you: what, you young housewife! Well husband said she, it becomes a woman to obey her husband in regard whereof, I drink to him. That's well said quoth the company: and so she took her leave & went down. And within a while after, they paid the shot, & departed thence to Garrata hall, where they went to their lodging; and the next day they took their way homeward all together: and coming to Colebroke, they took up their lodging: and it was Coals custom to deliver his money to the good wife of the house to keep it till morning, which in the end turned to his utter destruction, as hereafter shallbe showed.   

How Gray's wife of Gloucester, with one or two more of her neighbours, went to the fair, where servants came to be hired, and how she took the Earl of shrewsbury's Daughter into her service. Chap. 3.  
IT was wont to be an old custom in Gloucestershire, that at a certain time in the year, all such young men and maidens as were out of service, resorted to a fair that was kept near Gloucester▪ there to be ready for any that would come to hire them, the young men stood all on a-row on the one side, & the maidens on the other. It came to pass, that the Earl of Shrewsburyes daughter, whose father was lately banished, being driven into great distress, and weary with travail, as one whose delicate life was never used to such toil▪ sat her down upon the high way side, making this lamentation.  
O false and deceitful world, qd she! who is in thee that wishes not to be rid of thee, for thy extremities are great? Thou art deceitful to all, and trusty to none. Fortune is thy t●e surer who is like thyself, wavering and unconstant, she setteth up tyrants beateth down kings, giveth shame to some and renown to others: Fortune giveth these evils, and we see it not: with her hands she toucheth us, and we feel it not, she treads us underfoot, and we know it not: she speaks in our ears, and we hear her not: she cries aloud, and we understand her not: And why? because we know her not until misery doth make her manifest.  
Ah my dear father, well mayst thou do. Of all misfortunes it is most unhappy to be fortunate: and by this misfortune came my fall. Was ever good Lady brought to this extremity? What is become of my rare jewels, my rich array, my sumptus us ●●●●, my waiting servants, my many friends, and all my vain pleasures? my pleasure is banished by displeasure, my friends fled like foes, my servants gome, my feasting turned to fasting, my rich array consumed to rags, and my jewels deck out my chiefest enemies: therefore of all things the mean estate is best, poverty with surety, is better than honour mixed with fear: ●●●ing God hath allotted me to this misery of life, I will frame my heart to embrace humility, and carry a mind answerable to my misfortunes, i'll on this vain title of Ladyship, how little doth it avail the distressed? No, no, I must therefore forget my birth and parentage and think no more on my father's house, where I was wont to be served, now will I learn to serve, and plain Meg shall be my name: good Lord grant I may get a good service, nay any service shall serve, where I may have meat, drink and apparel. She had no sooner spoke these words, but she espied a couple of maidens more coming towards her; who were going to the fair; and bidding her good morrow, asked her if she went to the fair. Yea marry qd she, I am a poor man's child that is out of service, and I hear that at the Statute folks do come of purpose to hire servants. True it is said the maidens, and thither go we for the same purpose, and would be glad of your company. With a good will, and I am right glad of yours, said she, beseeching you good maidens you will do me the favour, to tell me what service were best for me; for the more too blame my parents, they would never put me forth to know any thing. Why what can you do (quoth the maidens) can you brew and bake, make butter and cheese, and reap corn well? No verily said Margaret, but I would be right glad to learn to do any thing whatsoever it be. If you could spin or carded said another, you might do excellent well with a clothier, for they are the best services that I know, there you shall be sure to far well, and to live merrily.  
Then Margaret wept saying (alas) what shall I do? I was never brought up to these things. What can you do nothing quoth they? No truly (quoth she) that is good for any thing, but I can read, and write and sow, some skill I have in my needle, and a little on my Lute: but this, I see will profit me nothing Good Lord, quoth they, are you bookish? we did never hear of a maid before that could read and write. And although you can do no other thing, yet possibly you may get a service, if you can behave yourself mannerly. I pray you qd. another, seeing you are bookish, will you do so much as to read a love letter that is sent me▪ for I was at a friends of mine with it, and he was not at home, and so I know not what is in it. I pray you let me see it quoth Margaret, and I will show you. Whereupon she readeth as followeth.  

O jenny my joy, I die for thy love,  
And now I hear say that thou dost remove:  
And therefore, jenney, I pray thee recite  
Where I shall meet thee soon at night.   

For why, with my master no more will I stay,  
But for thy love I will run away,  
O jenny, jenny, thou puttst me to pain,  
That thou no longer here remain.   

I will weareout my shoes of Neat's Leather,  
But thou and I will meet together,  
And in spite of Fortune, Rat, or Mouse,  
We will dwell in one house.  
For who doth not esteem of thee,  
Shall have no service done of me:  
Therefore good jenny, have a care  
To meet poor Fragment at the fair.   
Now alas, good soul (quoth jenny) I think he be the kindest young man in the world. The rest answered, that he seemed no less, and surely it appeareth that he is a pretty witty fellow quoth one of them, how finely he hath written his letter in time, trust me, I will give you a good thing, and let me have a copy of it to send to my sweet heart: that you shall, with all my heart & so coming to the fair, they took up their standing.  
Within a while after, goodwife Grace of Gloucester came ●hither to store herself of divers commodities and when she had bought what she would, she told her neighbour she had great need of a maid servant or twain: therefore qd she, good neighbour go with me and let me have your opinion. With a good will, said her neighbour, and together they went, and looking and viewing the maidens over, she took special notice of Margaret. Believe me, quoth she, there stands a very proper maiden, and one of a modest and comely countenance. verily, said her neighbour, so she is, as ever I looked upon.  
The maiden seeing them to view her so well, was so abashed, that a scarlet colour overspread her lily cheeks; which the woman perceiving, came unto her, and asked if she were willing to serve. The maid with a low courtesy, and a most gentle speech, answered it was the only cause of her coming. Can you spin or carded, said goodwife Grace? Truly Dame, said she, though my cunning therein be but small, my goodwill to learn is great, and I trust, my diligence shall content you. What wages will you take, quoth good wife Grace? I will refer that, said Margaret, to your conscience and courtesy, desiring no more than what I shall deserve. Then ask what country woman she was the maiden wept, saying, Ah good Dame, I was untimely borne in Shropshire, of poor parents, and yet not so needy as unfortunate, but death having ended their sorrows, hath left me to the cruelty of these enuions times, to finish my parent's tragedy with my troubles. What maiden! qd her Dame, have you a care to do your business, and to live in God's fear, and you shall have no care to regard Fortune's frowns and so they went home together.  
Now, so soon as the goodman saw her, he asked his wife where she had that maiden She said, at the fair. Why then quoth he thou hast brought all the f●●re away and I doubt it were better for us, to send the fair to another town, than to keep the fair here. Why man, quoth she, what mean you by that? Woman I mean this, that she will prove a Loadstone, to draw the hearts of all my men after her, and so we shall have wise service done of all sides. Then said his wife, I hope husband, Margaret will have a better care both to her own credit, and our commodity then so, and let me alone to looks to such matters. Is thy name Margaret (quoth her master?) proper is thy name to thy person, for thou art a pearl indeed, orient, and rich in beauty.  
His wife hearing him say so, began to change her opinion: What husband (quoth she) is the wind at that door? Begin you to like your maid so well? I doubt I had most need to look to yourself: before God, I had rather than an angel I had chosen some other: but hear you maid you shall pack hence, I will not nourish a snake in my bosom, and therefore get you gone, I will none of you provide a service where you may.  
The maiden hearing her say so, fell down on her knees, & besought her saying. O sweet dame, be not so cruel to me, to turn me out of doors now: alas, I know not where to go, or what to do, if you forsake me. O let not the fading beauty of my face despoil me of your favour: for rather than that shall hinder my service, this my knife shall soon disfigure my face, and I will banish beauty as my greatest enemy. And with that her abundant tears stopped her speech, that she could not utter one word more.  
The woman seeing this could not harbour anger longer, nor could her master stay in the room for weeping? Well Margaret, said her dame (little knowing that a Lady kneeled before her) using thyself well, I will keep thee and thou shalt have my good will, if thou govern thyself with wisdom; and so she sent her about her business. Her husband coming to supper said, ●ow now! wife, art thou so doubtful of me, that thou hast put away thy maiden? I wis (qd. she) you are a wise man, to stand praising of a maids beauty before her face. & you a wise woman (qd. he) to grow jealous without a cause. So to supper they went, and because Margaret showed herself of finest behaviour above the rest, she was appointed to wait on the table. And it is to be understood, that Grace did never eat his meat alone but still had some of his neighbours with him before whom he called his maid, saying, Margaret, come hither. Now because there was another of the same name in the house, she made answers, I callnot you maiden, quoth he, but Margaret with the lily white hand. After which time she was ever called so.   

How the King's majesty sent for the Clothiers, and of the sundry favours which he did them. Chap. 4.  
KIng Henry providing for his voyage into France, against King Lewis and Robert Duke of Normandy his own brother, committed the government of the Realm in his absence, to the Bishop of Salisbury, a man of great wisdom and learning, whom the King esteemed highly, and afterward he thought good to send for the chief Clothiers of England who according to the king's appointment came to the court, and having licence to come before his Majesty, he spoke to this effect.  
The strength of a king is the love and friendship of his people, and he governs over his Realm most surely, that ruleth justice with mercy, for he ought to fear many, whom many do fear▪ therefore the governors of the common wealth ought to observe two special precepts, the one is, that they so maintain the profit of the commons, that whatsoever in their calling they do, they refer it thereunto: the other, that they be always as well careful over the whole common wealth, as over any part thereof, lest while they uphold the one, the other be brought to utter decay.  
And for as much as I do understand, and have partly seen, that you the Clothiers of England are no small benefit to the wealth public, I thought it good to know from your own mouths, if there be any thing not yet granted that may benefit you or any other thing to be removed that doth hurt you.  
The great desire I have to maintain you in your trades, hath moved me hereunto. Therefore boldly say what you would have in the one thing or the other, & I wlil grant it you.  
With that, they all fell down upon their knees, and desired God to save his Majesty, and with all, requested three days respite to put in their answer: which was granted, And thereupon they departed.  
When the Clothiers had well considered of these matters, at length they thought meet to request of his Majesty for their first benefit, that all the Cloth measures, through the land might be of one length, whereas to their great disadvantage before, every good town had a several measure, the difficulty thereof was such, that they could not keep them in memory, nor know how to keep their reckonings. The second thing whereof they found themselves grieved, was this, that the people would not take cracked money, though it were never so good silver: whereupon it came to pass, that the Clothiers and divers other receiving great sums of money, to take among it much cracked money, it served them to no use, because it would not go currant, but lay upon their hands without profit or benefit, whereof they prayed reformation. The third was a grief, whereof Hodgekins of Halyfax complained, and that was, that whereas the town of Halyfax lived altogether upon clothing, and by the reason of false borderers & other evil minded persons, they were oft robbed, and had their clothes carried out of their fields, where they were drying, that it would please his Majesty to grant the town this privilege, that whosoever he was that was taken stealing their cloth, might presently without any further trial be hanged up. When the day of their appearance approached, the Clothiers came before the King, and delivered up their petition in writing, which his Majesty most graciously perusing, said, he was ready to fulfil their request: and therefore for the first point of their petition, he called for a staff to be brought him, and measuring thereupon the just length of his own arm, delivered it to the clothiers, saying, This measure shallbe called a yard, and no other measure throughout all the Realm of England shall be used for the same, and by this shall men buy and sell, and we will so provide, that whosoever he be that abuseth our subjects by any false measure, that he shall not only pay a fine for the same to the king, but also have his body punished by imprisonment. And as concerning the second point of your petition, because of my sudden departure out of the land, I know not better how to ease you of this grief (of cracked money) this decree I make, because they account cracked money not currant I say, none shallbe currant but cracked money. And therefore I will give present charge, that all the money through the land shallbe ●●it, and so you shall suffer no loss.  
But now for your last request for the town of Halyfax, where by thieves your clothes are so often stolen from you, seeing the laws already provided in that case are not sufficient to keep men in awe, it is indeed high time to have sharper punishment for them.  
With that Hodgekins unmannerly interrupted the King, saying in broad Northern speech, Yea good faith, may Liege, the fall eule of may soul, gif● any thing will keep them whiat, till the karles be hanged up by the nag. What the dul● care they for boring their eyen, sea long as they may gay groping up and down the country like false lizar lownes, begging and craking?  
The king smiling to hear this rough hewn fellow make this reply: Content thee Hodgekins, for we will have redress for all: and albeit that hanging of men was never seen in England, yet seeing the corrupt world is grown more bold in all wickedness, I think it not amiss to ordain this death for such malefactors: and peculiarly to the town of Hallifaxe I give this privilege, that whosoever they find stealing their cloth, being taken with the goods, that without further judgement they shallbe hanged up.  
Thus (said our king) have I granted what you request, and if hereafter you find any other thing that may be good for you, it shall be granted; for no longer would I desire to live among you, than I have care for the good of the commonwealth: at which word ended, the King rose from his royal throne, while the clothiers on their knees prayed for both his health and happy success, and showed themselves most thankful for his highness favour. His majesty bending his body toward them, said that at his home return, he would (by the grace of God) visit them.   

How the Clothiers had provided a sumptuous feast for the King's sons, prince William and prince Richard at Ger●ards hall, showing also what chance befell Cuthbert of Kendal at that same instant. Chap. 5.  
THe Clothiers departing from the court in a merry mind, joyful of their good success, each one to other praised and magnified the King's great wisdom and virtue▪ commending also his affability and gentle disposition, so that Hodgekins affirmed on his faith, that he had rather speak to the King's majesty, than to many justices of peace. Indeed (said Cole) he is a most mild and merciful prince, and I pray God he may long reign over us. Amen said the rest.  
Then said Cole, My masters, shall we forget the great courtesy of the King's sons, those sweet and gentle princes▪ that still showed us favour in our suit? in my opinion it were reason to gratify them in some sort, that we may not utterly be condemned of ingratitude: wherefore (if you think good) we will prepare a banquet for them at our host Garrats, who as you know, hath a fair house, and goodly rooms: Besides, the man himself is of a most courageous mind and good behaviour, sufficient to entertain a prince; his wife also is a dainty fine, Cook: all which considered, I know not a fitter place in London. 'tis true, quoth Sutton and if the rest be content, I iam pleased it shallbe so. At this they all answered, Yea, for (quoth they) it will not be passing forty shillings apiece, and that we shall recover in our cracked money.  
Being thus agreed, the feast wae prepared. Tom Dove quoth they, we will commit the providing of music to thee: and I said Cole will invite divers of our merchants and their wives to the same. That is well remembered, said Grace. Upon this they called to their host and hostess▪ showing their determination, who most willingly said, all things should be made ready, but I would have two days liberty, said the good wife, to prepare my house and other things. Content, said the Clothiers, in the mean spare we will bid our gests, and dispatch our other affairs. But Simon of Southampton charged his hostise, that in any case she should not forget to make good store of pottage. It shall be done quoth she.  
It is be to remembered, that while this preparation was in hand, that Cuthbert of Kendal had not forgot his kindness to his hostise of bosoms Inn. Therefore finding time convenient when her husband was overseing his haymakers, he gréeted her in this sort, Sweet hostess, though I were the last time I was in town, over bold with you, yet I hope it was not so offensive to you, as you made show for. Bold my Cut quoth she? thou hast vowed thyself my servant, and so being, you are not to be blamed for doing what I willed you. By my honesty, I could not choose but smile to myself, so soon as I was out of their sight, to think how prettily you began your brabble. But now, quoth he, we will change our chide to kiss, and it vexeth me that these cherry lips should be subject to such a Lobcock as thy husband.  
Subject to him quoth she! In faith sir, no, I will have my lips at as much liberty as my tongue, the one to say what I list, and the other to touch whom I like: In troth, shall I tell thee, Cuthbert, the churls breath smells so strong, that I care as much for kissing of him, as for looking on him 'tis such a misshapen miser, and such a bundle of beastliness, that I can never think on him without spitting Fie upon him. I would my friends had carried me to my grave, when they went with me to the Church, to make him my husband. And so shedding a few dissembling tears▪ she stopped. What my sweet mistress (quoth he) weep you? Nay sit down by my side, and I will sing thee one of my country jigs to make thee merry. Wilt thou in faith (quoth she)? Yes verily, said Cuthbert: and in troth, quoth she, if you fall a singing, I will sing with you. That is well, you can so suddenly change your notes, quoth Cut. then have at it.  man.. 

LOng have I loved this bonny Lass,  
yet durst not show the same.   Wo. 
Therein you proved yourself an Ass,  man.. 

I was the more too blame.  
Yet still will I remain to thee,  
Trang dilly do, trang dilly,  
Thy friend and lover secretly.   Wom. 
Thou art my own sweet bully.  Man 

But when shall I enjoy thee,  
delight of thy fair love?   Wo. 

Even when thou seest that fortune doth  
all manner le's remove.   Man 

O, I will fold thee in my arms,  
Trang dilly do, trang dilly,  
And keep thee so from sudden harms.   Wom. 
Thou art my own sweet bully.  Wom. 

My husband he is gone from home▪  
you know it very well.   Man 
But when will he return again?  Woe 

In troth I cannot tell:  
If long he keep him out of sight,  
Trang dilly do, trang dilly.  
Be sure thou shalt have thy delight.   Man 
Thou art my bonny lassy▪  
While they were singing this song, her husband being on a sudden come home, stood secretly in a corner and heard all, and blessing himself with both his hands, said O abominable dissimulation, monstrous hypocrisy, and are you in this humour? can you brawl together and sing together? Well quoth he, I will let them alone, and see a little more of their knavery. Never did Cat watch Mouse so narrowly, as I will watch them: And so going into the Kitchen, he asked his wife if it were not dinner time. Even by and by, husband (quoth she) the meat will be ready. Presently after comes in Hodgekins and Martin, who straight asked for Cuthbert of Kendal. Answer was made, that he was in his Chamber. So when they had called him, they went to dinner: then they requested that their host and hostess would sit with them.  
Husband, said she, you may go if you please: but as for me, I will desire pardon. Nay, good wife, go up said her husband. What woman, you must bear with your guests. Why husband, qd. she, do you think that any can bear the flerts & trumps which that Northern tike gave me the last time he was in town? now God forgive me, I had as lief see the devil as see him: Therefore good husband▪ go up yourself, and let me alone, for in faith, I shall never abide that jack while I live.  
Upon these words away went her husband, and though he said little he thought the more. Now when he came up, his guests bade him welcome. I pray you sit down, good mine host, quoth they, where is your wife▪ what will not she sit with us? No verily said he, the foolish woman hath taken such a displeasure against Cuthbert, that she swears she will never come in his company Is it so, said the other? then trust me we are well agreed. And I swear by my father's sale, quoth he, that were it not more for good will o you, than love to her, I would never come to your house more. I believe it well, said old Bosom. And so with other communication they drove out the time, till Dinner was ended.  
After they were risen, Martin & Hodgekins got them forth about their affairs, but Cutb. took his host by the hand, saying, My host, I'll go talk with your wife; for my part I thought we had been friends: but seeing her stomach is so big & her heart so great, I will see what she will say to me; and with that he s●ept into the kitchen, saying, God speed you hostise. It must be when you are away them, said she. What is your reason said the other? Because God never comes where knaves are present. Gip goody draggletaile qd he, had I such a wife▪ I would present her tallow face to the devil for a candle. With that she bent her brows, and like a fury of hell began to fly at him saying. Why, you gag-toothd jack, you blinking companion, get thee out of my Kitchen quickly, or with my powdered Beef br●th, I will make your pate as ●alde as a Friars.  
Get me gone, quoth he? thou shalt not bid me twice: out you dirty heels, you will make your husband's hair gr●we through his hood I doubt; and with that he got him into the Hall, and sat him down on the bench by his host, to whom he said: 'tis pity my host, that your aged years that loves quietness, should be troubled with such a scolding quean. ay, God help me God help me quoth the old man; and so went toward the Stable; which his wife watching, suddenly stepped out and gave Cuthbert a kiss.  
Within an hour after, the old man craftily called for his Nag to ride to field: but as soon as he was gone, Cuthbert and his Hostess were such good friends, that they got into one of the Aware houses, and ●ockt the door to them: but her husband having set a spy for the purpose, suddenly turned back, and called for a capcase which lay in the Warehouse. The servant could not find the key by any means. Whereupon he called to have the lock broke open. Which they within hearing, opened the door of their own accord. So soon as her husband spied her in that place, with admiration he said O, the passion of my heart, what do you here? what you two that cannot abide one another? what make you so close together? is your chiding and railing, brabbling and brawling, come to this? O what dissemblers are these! Why▪ my host qd. Cuthbert what need you take the matter so hot? I gave a Cheese to my country man Hodgekins, to lay up, and delivered it to your wife to be kept▪ and then is it not reason, that she should come and seek me my Cheese? O, qd▪ the old man, belike the door was locked, because the cheese should not run away. The door said his wife unknown to us clapped to itself, and having a spring lock, was presently fast. Well, housewife, qd. he; I will give you as much credit as a Crocodile; but as for your companion I will teach him to come hither to look cheeses.  
And with that he caused his men to take him presently, and to bind him hand and foot. Which being done, they drew him up in a basket into the smoky lover of the hall, and there they did let him hang all that night, even till the next day dinner time, when he should have been at the banquet with the princes: for neither Hodgekins nor Martin could entreat their inflamed host to let him down.  
And in such a heat was he driven with drawing him up▪ that he was fain to cast off his gowns, his coats, and two pair of his stockings, to cool himself, making a vow he should hang there seven. years except the king's sons came in person to beg his pardon, which most of all grieved Cuthbert. When Cole and the rest of the western yeomen ●eard hereof, they could not choose but laugh, to think that he was so taken t●●dy.  
The young princes having given promise to be with the clothiers kept their hour, but when all the rest went to give them entertainment, Simon was so busy in supping his pottage, that he could not spare so much time. Which when the princes saw, with a smiling countenance they said, Sup Simon, there's good breath, or else beshrew our hostess: quoth he, never looking behind him to see who spoke, till the prince clapped him on the shoulder. But good Lord, how blank he was when he spied them knowing not how to excuse the matter.  
Well, the princes having ended their banquet, Garrat comes, and with one of his hands took the table of 16 foot long quite from the ground over their heads, from before the princes, and set it on the other side of the hall, to the great admiration of all them that beheld it.  
The princes being then ready to depart, the Clothiers moved them in pleasant manner, to be good to one of their company, that did neither sit, lie, nor stand. Then he must needs hang, qd the princes. And so he doth, most excellent princes qd they; and therewithal told them the whole matter. When they heard the story, down to Bosoms inn they go, where looking up into the roof, spied poor Cuthbert pinned up in a basket, and almost smoked to death, who although he were greatly ashamed, yet most pitifully desired that they would get him released.  
What is his trespass, said the prince? Nothing if it shall like your Grace qd he, but for looking for a chief. But he could not find it without my wife, said the good man: the villain had lately dined with mutton, and could not digest his meat without cheese, for which cause I have made him to fast these twenty hours, to the end he may have a better stomach to eat his dinner, then to use dalliance.  
Let me entreat you quoth the prince, to release him: and if ever hereafter you catch him in the corn, clap him in the pound. Your Grace shall request or command any thing at my hand, said the old man; and so Cuthbert was let down unbound: but when he was loose, he vowed never to come within that house more. And it is said, the old man ●osome ordains, that in remembrance of this deed every year once all such as came thither to ask for cheeses should be so served: which thing is to this day kept.   

How Simons wife of Southampton being wholly bend to pride and pleasure, requested her husband to see London, which being granted, how she got good wife Sutton of Salisbury to go with her, who took Crab to go along with them, and how he prophesied of many things. Chap. 6.  
THe Clothiers being all come from London, Suttons wife of Southampton who was with her husband very merry and pleasant, broke her mind unto him in this sort.  
Good Lord husband, will you never be so kind as let me go to London with you? shall I be penned up in Southampton, like a patrat in a cage, or a capon in a coop? I would request no more of you in am of all my pains, cark and care, but to have one week's time to see that fair city: what is this life if it be not mixed with some delight? and what delight is more pleasing than to see the fashions and manners of unknown places? Therefore good husband, if thou lovest me, deny not this simple request You know I am no common gadder, nor have oft troubled you with travel. God knows, this may be the last thing that ever I shall request at your hands.  
Woman quoth he, I would willingly satisfy your desire, but you know it is not convenient for both of us to be abroad, our charge is great, and therefore our care ought not to be small. If you will go yourself, one of my men shall go with you, and money enough you shall have in your purse: but to go with you myself, you see my business will not permit me.  
Husband said she, I accept your gentle offer, and it may be I shall entreat my gossip Sutton to go along with me. I shall be glad quoth her husband, prepare yourself when you will.  
When she had obtained this licence, she sent her man wessel to Salisbury, ●o know of good wife Sutton if she would keep her company to London. Suttons' wife being as willing to go, as she was to request, never rested till she had gotten leave of her husband; the which when she had obtained, casting in her mind their pleasure would be small, being but they twain; thereupon the wily woman sent letters by choleric Crack her man, both to Gray's wife, and F●●zallens wife, that they would meet them at Reading; who liking well of the match, consented and did so provide that they met according to promise at Reading, and from thence with Coals wife they went all together, with each of them a man to London, each one taking up their lodging with a several friend.  
When the Merchants of London understood they were in town, they ira●●ited them every day home to their own houses, where they had delicate good cheer: and when they went abroad to see the commodities of the City, the merchants wives ever bore them company, being attired most dainty and fine: which when the Clothier's wives did see, it grieved their hearts they had not the like.  
Now when they were brought into Cheapside, there with great wonder they beheld the shops of the Goldsmiths; and on the other side, the wealthy Mercers, whose shops shined of all sorts of coloured silks; in Watlingstreete, they viewed the great number of Drapers in Saint Martin's, Shoemakers, at Saint Nicholas church, the flesh shambles, at the end of the old change, the fishmongers; in Candleweeke street the Weavers, than came into the jews street, where all the jews did inhabit; then went they to Blackwel hall, where the country clothiers did use to meet.  
Afterward they proceeded, and came to S. Paul's church, whose steeple was so high, that it seemed to pierce the clouds, on the top whereof, was a great and mighty whethercocke, of clean silver, the which notwithstanding seemed as small as a sparrow to men's eyes, it stood so exceeding high, the which goodly weathercock was afterwards stolen away, by a cunning cripple, who found means one night to climb up to the top of the steeple, and took it down, with the which, and a great sum of money which he had got together by begging in his life tune, he builded a gate on the Northwest side of the city, which to this day is called Cripple gate.  
From thence they went to the Tower of London, which was builded by julius Caesar, who was Emperor of Rome. And there they beheld salt and wine, which had lain there ever since the Romans invaded this land, which was many years before our Saviour Christ was borne, the wine was grown so thick that it might have been cut like a ielley. And in that place also they saw money that was made of leather, which in ancient time went currant amongst the people.  
When they had to their great contentation beheld all this, they repaired to their lodgings, having also a sumptuous supper ordained for them, with all delight that might be. And you shall understand that when the country weavers, which came up with their dames, saw the weavers of Candlewikestréet, they had great desire presently to have some conference with them, and thus one began to challenge tother for workmanship, quoth Weasel, i'll work with any of you all for a crown, take it if you dare, and he that makes his yard of cloth soonest, shall have it. You shall be wrought withal, said the other, and if it were for ten crowns; but we will make this bargain, that each of us shall wind their own quills. Content quoth Weasel: and so to work they went, but Wesel lost. Whereupon another of them took the matter in hand, who lost likewise: so that the London weavers triumphed against the country, casting forth divers frumps.  
Alas poor fellows, quoth they, your hearts are good, but your hands are ill. ●ush, the fault was in their legs, quoth another, pray you friend were you not borne at home? Why do you ask quoth Weasel? because, said he, the biggest place of your leg is next to your shoe.  
Cuthbert hearing this, being choleric of nature, chafed like a man of law at the bar, and he wagers with them four crowns to twain, the others agreed, to work they go: but erab conquered them all. Whereupon, the London weavers were nipped in the head like birds, and had not a word to say.  
Now saith Crab as we have lost nothing, so you have won nothing, and because I know, ye cannot be right weavers, except you be good fellows, therefore if you will go with us, we will bestow the ale upon you. That is spoken like a good fellow and like a weaver, quoth the other. So along they went as it were to the sign of the red Crosse.  
When they were set down, and had drunk well, they began merrily to prattle, and to ertoll Crab to the skies. Whereupon Crab protested, that he would come and dwell among them. Nay, that must not be, said a London weaver? the king hath given us privilege, that none shall live among us, but such as serve seven years in London. With that Crab, according to his old manner of prophesing, said thus:  

THe day is very near at hand,  
When as a King of this fair land  
Shall privilege you more than so:  
The● weavers shall in scarlet go.   

And to one brotherhood be brought,  
The first that is in London wrought,  
When other tradesmen by your fame,  
Shall covet all to do the same.   

Then shall you all live wondrous well,  
But this one thing I shall you tell:  
The day will come before the doom,  
In Candleweeke street shall stand no loom.   

Nor any weaver dwelling there,  
But men that shall more credit bear:  
For clothing shall be sore decayed,  
And men undone that t●e that trade.  
And yo● the day some ●en shall see,  
This 〈…〉 shall raised be,  
Whenas bailiff life of Sarum town,  
Shall buy and purchase Bishops down.   

When there never man did sow,  
Great store of goodly corn shall grow?  
And woad, that makes all colours sound  
Shall spring upon that barren ground.   

At that same day I tell you plain,  
Who so alive doth then remain,  
A proper maiden there shall see,  
Within the town of Salisbury.   

Of favour sweet, of nature kind,  
With goodly eyes, and yet stark blind,  
This poor blind maiden I do say.  
In age shall go in rich array.   

And he that takes her to his wife  
Shall lead a joyful happy life,  
The wealthiest Clothier shall he be,  
That ever was in that country.   

But clothing kept as it hath been  
In London never shall be seen:  
For weavers then the most shall win,  
That work for clothing next the skin.   

Till pride the commonwealth doth peel,  
And causeth housewives leave their wheel.  
Then poverty upon each side  
Unto those workmen shall be tie   

At that time, from an eagles nest,  
That proudly builded in the West,  
A sort shall come with cunning hand,  
To bring strange weaving in this land.   

And by their gains that great will fall,  
They shall maintain the weavers hall:  
But long they shall not flourish so,  
But folly will them overthrow.   

And men shall count it much shame,  
To bear that kind of weavers name,  
And this as sure will come to pass,  
As here is ale within this glass.   
When the silly souls that sat about him heard him speak in this sort, they admired, and honoured Crab for the same. Why my masters, said Weasel, do you wonder at these words? he will tell you twenty of these tales, for which cause we call him our canvas Prophet: his attire fits his title, said they, and we never heard the like in our lives; and if this should be true, it would be strange. Doubt not but it will be true, qd. Weasel, for i'll tell you what, he did but once see our Nick, kiss Nell, and presently he powered out this rhyme.  

That kis●e O Nell, God give the joy,  
Will nine months hence breed thee a boy.   
And I'll tell you what, you shall hear: we kept reckoning and it fell out as just as jones buttocks on a close stool, for which cause, our maids durst never kiss a man in his sight: upon this they broke company, & went every one about his business, the London weavers to their frames, and the country fellows to their dames, who after their great banqueting and merriment went every one home to their own houses, though with less money than they brought out, yet with more pride.  
Especially Simons wife of Southampton, who told the rest of her gossips, that she saw no reason, but that their husbands should maintain them, aswell as the Merchants did their wives: for I tell you what, quoth she, we are as proper women (in my conceit) as the proudest of them all, as handsome of body, as fair of face, our legs as well made, and our feet as fine: then what reason is there (seeing our husbands are of as good wealth) but we should be as well maintained?  
You say true gossip, said S●ttons wife: trust me, it made me blush, to see them brave it out so gallantly, and we to go so homely: but before God, said the other, I will have my husband to buy me a London gown, or in faith he shall have little quiet: so shall mine, said another, and mine too, qd. the third: and all of them sung the same note: so that when they came home, their husbands had no little to do: Especially Simon, whose wife daily lay at him for London apparel, to whom he said, Good woman, be content, let us go according to our place and ability: what will the Bailiffs think, if I should prank thee up like a Peacock, and thou in thy attire surpass their wives? they would either think I were mad, or else that I had more money than I could well use: consider I pray thee good wife, that such as are in their youth wasters, do prove in their age stark beggars.  
Beside that, it is enough to raise me up in the King's books; for many times, men's coffers are judged by their garments: why, we are country folks, and must keep ourselves in good compass: grey russet, and good homespun cloth doth best become us; I tell thee wife, it were as undecent for us to go like Londoners, as it is for Londoners to go like courtiers.  
What a coil keep you, quoth she? are not we God's creatures aswell as Londoners? and the King's subjects, aswell as they? then finding our wealth to be as good as theirs, why should we not go as gay as Londoners? No husband, no●, here is the fault, we are kept without it, only because our husbands are not so kind as Londoners: why man, a Cobbler there, keeps his wife better than the best Clothier in this country: nay, I will affirm it, that the London Oyster-wives, and the very Kitchin-staffe criers, do exceed us in their Sundays attire: nay, more than that, I did see the waterbearers wife which belongs to one of our Merchants, come in with a Tankered of water on her shoulder, and yet half a dozen gold rings on her fingers. You may then think, wife (quoth he) she got them not with idleness.  
But wife, you must consider what London is, the chief and capital City of all the land, a place on the which all strangers cast their eyes, it is (wife) the King's chamber, and his majesties royal seat: ●o that City repairs of all Nations under heaven. Therefore it is most meet and convenient, that the citizens of such a City should not go in their apparel like Peasants, but for the credit of our country, wear such seemly habits, as do carry gravity and comeliness in the eyes of all beholders, But if we of the country went so (quoth she) were it not as great credit for the land as the other? Woman qd her husband, it is altogether needless, and in divers respects it may not be. Why then I pray you, quoth she, let us go dwell at London. A word soon spoken, said her husband, but not so easy to be performed: therefore wife, I pray thee hold thy prating, for thy talk is foolish: yea, yea husband, your old churlish conditions will never be left, you keep me here like a drudge and a droyle, and so you may keep your money in your purse, you care not for your credit, but before I will go so like a shepherdess, I will first go● naked: and I tell you plain, I scorn it greatly, that you should clap a grey gown on my back, as if I had not brought you two pence: before I was married you swore I should have any thing that I requested, but now all is forgotten. And in saying this, she went in, and soon after she was so sick that needs she must go to bed: and when she was laid, she drove out that night with many grievous groans, sighing and sobbing, and no rest she could take God wot. And in the morning when she should rise, the good soul fell down in a swoon, which put her maidens in a great flight, who running down to their master cried out, Alas, alas, our Dame is dead, our Dame is dead. The good man hearing this, ran up in all haste, and there fell to rubbing and chafing of her temples, sending for aqua vitae, and saying, Ah my sweet heart, speak to me, good wife, alack, alack, call in the neighbours, you queans quoth he. With that she lift up her head, fetching a great groan and presently swooned again, and much ado iwis, he had to keep life in her: but when she was come to herself, How dost thou wife qd he? What wilt thou have? for God's sake tell me if thou hast a mind to any thing, thou shalt have it. Away dissembler (quoth she) how can I believe thee? thou hast said as much to me an hundred times, and deceived me, it is thy churlishness that hath killed my heart, never was woman matched to so unkind a man.  
Nay good wife, blame me not without cause; God knoweth how dearly I love thee. Love me! no, no, thou didst never carry my love but on the tip of thy tongue, quoth she, I dare swear thou desirest nothing so much as my death, and for my part, I would to God thou ha●st thy desire: but be content, I shall not trouble thee long: and with that fetching a ●●gh, she swooned and gave a great greane. The man seeing her in this case was wondrous woe: but so soon as they had recovered her he said, O my dear wife, if any had conceit hath engendered this sickness, let me know it; or if thou knowest any thing that may procure thy health, let me understand thereof, and I protest thou shalt have it, if it cost me all that ever I have.  
O husband, quoth she, how may I credit your words, when for a paltry su●e of apparel you denied me? Well wife quoth he, thou shalt have apparel or any thing else thou wilt request, if God send thee once health. O husband, if I may find you so kind, I shall think myself the happiest woman in the world; thy words have greatly comforted my heart, me thinketh if I had it, I could drink a good draft of rhenish wine. Well, wine was sent for: O Lord said she, that I had a piece of a chicken, I feel my stomach desirous of some meat. Glad am I of that said her husband, and so the woman within a few days after was very well.  
But you shall understand, that her husband was fain to dress her London like ere he could get her quiet neither would it please her, except the stuff were bought in Cheapside, for out of Cheapside nothing would content her, were it never so good: insomuch that if she thought a tailor of Cheapside made not her gown, she would swear it was quite spoiled.  
And having thus won her husband to her will, when the rest of the Clothier's wives heard thereof, they would be suited in the like sort too: so that ever since, the wives of Southampton, Salisbury, of Gloucester, Worcester, and Reading, went all as gallant and as brave as any Londoners wives.   

How the Clothiers sent the King aid into France, and how he overeame his brother Robert, and brought him into England, and how the Clothiers feasted his Majesty and his son at Reading. Chap. 7.  
THe King's majesty being at the wars in France, against Lewis the French king, and duke Robert of Normandy, sending for divers supplies of soldiers out of England, the Clothiers at their own proper cost set out a great number, and sent them over to the King.  
Which Roger Bishop of Salisbury, who governed the realm in the King's absence, did always certify the King thereof, with his letters written in their commendations.  
And afterward it came to pass, that God sent his highness victory over his enemies, and having taken his brother prisoner, brought him most joyfully with him into England, and appointed him to be kept in Cardife castle prisoner, yet with this favour, that he might hunt and hawk where he would up and down the country, and in this sort he lived a good while, of whom we will speak more at large hereafter.  
The King being thus come home, after his winter's rest, he made his summer's progress into the west country, to take a view of all the chief towns: whereof the Clothiers being advertised, they made great preparation against his coming, because he had promised to visit them all.  
And when his Grace came to Reading, he was entertained and received with great joy and triumph: Thomas Cole being the chief man of regard in all the town, the king honoured his house with his princely presence, where during the king's abode, he, and his son, and nobles were highly feasted.  
Where the king beheld the great number of people, that was by that one man maintained in work, whose hearty affection and love toward his majesty did well appear, aswell by their outward countenances, as their gifts presented unto him. But of Cole himself the king was so well persuaded, that he committed much trust to him, and put him in great authority in the town. Furthermore the king said, That for the love which those people bore to him living, that he would lay his bones among them when he was dead. For I know not said he where they may be better bestowed, till the blessed day of resurrection, than among these my friends which are like to be happy partakers of the same.  
Whereupon his Majesty caused there to be builded a most goodly and famous Abbey: in which he might show his devetion to God, by increasing his service, and leave example to other his successors to do the like. Likewise within the town he after builded a fair and goodly castle, in the which he often kept his court, which was a place of his chief residence during his life saying to the Clothiers, that seeing he found them such faithful subjects, he would be their neighbour, and dwell among them.  
After his majesties royal feasting at Reading, he proceeded in progress, till he had visited the whole west countries, being wondrously delighted, to see those people so diligent to apply their business: and conuning to Salisbury, the Bishop received his Majesty with great joy, and with triumph attended on his Grace to his palace, where his Highness lodged.  
There Sutton the Clothier presented his Highness with a broad cloth, of so fine a thread, and exceeding good workmanship, and therewithal of so fair a colour, as his Grace gave commendation thereof, and as it is said, he held it in such high estimation, that thereof he made his parliament robes, and the first parliament that ever was in England, was graced with the King's person in those robes, in requital whereof his highness afterward yielded Sutton many princely favours.  
And it is to be remembered, that Simon of Southampton (seeing the King had overpast the place where he dwelled) came with his wife and servants to Salisbury, and against the K. going forth of that city, he caused a most pleasant arbour to be made upon the top of the hill leading to Shaftesburie, beset all with red and white roses, in such sort, that not any part of the timber could be seen, within the which sat a maiden attired like a Queen, attended on by a fair train of maidens, who at the kings approach presented him with a Garland of sweet stoures, yielding him such honour as the Ladies of Rome were wont to do to their Princes after their victories: which the King took in gracious part, and for his farewell from that country, they bore him company over part of the Plain, with the sound of divers sweet instruments of music. All which when his Grace understood was done at the cost of a Clothier, he said he was the most honoured by those men, above all the mean subjects in his land: & so his highness passed on to Exeter, having given great rewards to these maidens.  
Thomas Dove and the residue of the Clothiers, against his Graces coming thither▪ had ordained divers sumptuous shows; first, there was one that represented the person of Augustus Caesar the Emperor, who commanded after the Roman invasion, that their City should be called Augustus, after his own name, which beforetime was called Isea, and of latter years, Exeter.  
There his Majesty was royally feasted seven days together, at the only cost of Clothiers, but the divers delights and sundry pastimes which they made there before the King▪ and his Nobles, is too long here to be rehearsed. And therefore I will overpass them, to avoid tediousness.  
His grace then coasting along the country, at last came to Gloucester, an ancient City, which was builded by Glove a British King, who named it after his own name, Gloucester. Here was his majesty entertained by Grace the Clothier, who professed himself to be of that ancient family of Gray's, whose first Original issued out of the ancient and honourable Castle and town of Rithin.  
Here was the King most bountifully feasted, having in his company his brother Robert (although his prisoner the same time.) And his Grace being desirous to see the maiden's card and spin, they were of purpose set to their work, among whom was fair Margaret with the white hand, whose excellent beauty having pierced the eyes of that amorous Duke, it made such an impression in his heart, that afterward he could never forget her: and so vehemently was his affection kindled, that he could take no rest, till by writing he had bewrayed his mind: but of this we will speak more in an other place: and the King at his departure said, that to gratify them, he would make his son Robert their Earl, who was the first Earl that ever was in Gloucester.  
Now when his Grace was come from thence, he went to Worcester, where William Fitz-allen made preparation in all honourable sort to receive him, which man being borne of great parentage, was not to learn how to entertain his Majesty, being descended of that famous family, whose patrimony lay about the town of Oswestry. which town his predecessors had enclosed with stately walls of stone,  
Although adverse fortune had so grievously frowned on some of them, that their children were fain to become tradesmen, whose hands were to them instead of lands, notwithstanding God raised again the fame of this man, both by his great wealth and also in his posterity, whose eldest son Henry, the King's godson, became afterward the Mayor of London, who was the first Mayor that ever was in that City, who governed the same 23. years: and then his son Roger Fitz-allen was the second Mayor.  
The Princely pleasures that in Worcester were shown the king, were many and marvelous, and in no place had his Majesty received more delight than here; for the which at his departure he did show himself very thankful. Now when his Grace had thus taken view of all his good towns Westward and in that progress had visited these clothiers, he returned to London with great joy of all his commons.   

How Hodgekins of Halifax came to the Court, & complained to the King, that his privilege was nothing worth, because when they found any offendor they could not get a hangman to execute him: And how by a Friar a gin was devised to chop off men's heads of itself. Chap. 8.  
AFter that Hogekins had got the privilege for the town of Halifax, to hang up such thieves as stole their cloth in the night, presently without any further judgement, all the clothiers of the town were exceeding glad, & persuaded themselves, that now their goods would be safe all night, without watching them at all, so that whereas before, the town maintained certain watchmen to keep their cloth by night, they were hereupon dismissed as a thing needless to be done, supposing with themselves, that seeing they should be strait hanged that were ●ound faulty in this point, that no man would be so desperate to enterprise any such act. And indeed the matter being noised through the whole country, that they were strait to be hanged that did use such thievery, it made many lewd livers to refrain such thievery.  
Nevertheless, there was at that same time living. a notable These named Wallis, whom in the North they called Mighty Wallis, in regard of his valour and manhood: This man being most subtle in such kind of knavery, having heard of this late privilege, and therewithal of the towns security, said that once he would venture his neck for a pack of Northern cloth▪ and therefore coming to one or two of his companions, he asked if they would be partners in his adventure, and if (quoth he) you will herein hazard your bodies, you shall be shavers in all our booties.  
At length by many persuasions the men consented: whereupon late in the night, they got them all to a Farriours' shop, and called up the folks of the house. What the foul ill wa●● you have (quoth they) at this time of the night▪? Wallis answered, saying, good fellows, we would have you to remove the shoes of our Horses feet, and set them on again, and for your pains, you shallbe well pleased. The Smith at length was persuaded, & when he had plucked off all the shoes from their horses feet, they would needs have them all set on again. quite contrary with the calkins forward, that should stand backward. How faith, fay man, quoth the Smith. are you ●●ck fules? what the mi do you mean to break your crags? good faith I trow the men be wood. Not so, Smith qd they, do thou as we ●id thee, & thou shalt have thy money: for it is an old Proverb,  

Be it better, or be it worse  
Please you the man that bears the purse.   
Gud faith and see I ●all, qd. the Smith, and so did as he was willed. When Wallis had thus caused their Horses to be shod, to Hallifax they went, where they without any let laded their Horses with cloth, and so departed a contrary way.  
In the morning, so soon as the clothiers came to the field, they found that they were robbed▪ whereupon one ran to another to tell these tidings. Now when Hogekins heard thereof, rising up in haste, ●e wild his neighbours to mark & see, if they could not descry either the footsteps of men or Horses. Which being done, they perceived that horses had been there, and s● king to pursue them by their footsteps, they went a clean contrary way, by reason that the horses were shod backward & when in vain they had long persube them, they returned, being never the ●éere. Now Wallis used his feat so long, that at length he was taken, and two more with him: whereupon according to the privilege of the Town, they put Halters about the thieves necks presently to hang them up.  
When they were come to the place appointed. Wallis and the rest being out of all hope to escape death, prepared themselves patiently to suffer the rigour of the law. And there with the rest laying open the lewdness of his life, grievously lamenting for his sins, at length commending their souls to God, they yielded their bodies to the grave, with which sight the people were greatly moved with pity, because they had never seen men come to hanging before: but when they should have been tied up, Hodgekins willed one of his neighbours to play the Hangman's part, who would not by any means do it, although he was a very poor man, who for his pains should have been possessed of all their apparel. When he would not yield to the office, one of those which had his cloth stolen, was commanded to do the deed but he in like manner would not, saying: When I have the skill to make a man, I will hang a man, if it chance my workmanship do not like me.  
And thus from one to another, the office of the Hangman was posted off. At last a Rogue came by▪ whom they would have compelled to have done that deed. Nay, my Masters, qd. he not so: but as you have got a Privilege for the Town, so you were best to procure a Commission to make a hangman, or else you are like to be without for me. Neighbour Hogekins quoth one, I pray you do this office yourself, you have had most loss and therefore you should be the most readiest to hang them yourself No not I (quoth Hodgekins) though my loss were ten times greater than it is, notwithstanding look which of these thieves will take uppen him to hang the other, shall have his life saved, otherwise they shall all to prison till I can provide a hangman.  
When Wallis saw the matter brought to this pass, he began stoutly to reply, saying, My masters of the town of Halifax, though your privilege stretch to hang up men presently that are found stealing your goods, yet it gives you no warrant to imprison them till you provide them a hangman, myself with these my fellows have here yielded ourselves to satisfy the Law, and if it be not performed, the fault is yours and not ours, and therefore we humbly take our leave: from the gallows the xviij of August. And with that he leapt from the ladder, and cast the halter at Hodgekins face.  
When the Clothiers saw this, they knew not what to say, but taking them by the sleeves▪ entreated to have their own again. Not so qd Wallis, you get not the value of a plack or a gawby: we have stolen your cloth, then why do you not hang us▪ Here we have made ourselves ready, and if you will not hang us, choose. A plague on you quoth he, you have hindered me God knows what, I made account to dine this day in heaven, and you keep me here on earth where there is not a quarter of that good cheer. The foul evil take you all, I was fully provided to give the gallows a box on the ear, and now God knows when I shall be in so good a mind again: and so he with the rest of his companions departed.  
When Hodgekins saw, that notwithstanding their théevery, how they flouted at their lenity, he was much moved in mind: and as he stood in his dumps, chewing his cud, making his dinner with a dish of melancholy, a grey Friar reverently saluted him in this sort: All hail▪ goodman Hodgekins, happiness and health be ever with you, and to all suppressors of lewd livers, God send everlasting joys.  
I am sorry goodman Hodgekins, that the great privilege which our King gave to this town, comes to no greater purpose: better far had it been, that it had never been granted, then so lightly regarded: the town hath suffered through their own yée●ishnes, an everlasting reproach this day, only because foolish pity hath hindered justice.  
Consider, that compassion is not to be had upon thieves & robbers: pity only appertaineth to the virtuous sort, who are overwhelmed with the waves of misery and mischance. What great cause of boldness have you given to bad livers, by letting these fellows thus to escape, and how shall you now keep your goods in safety, seeing you fulfil not the law which should be your defence? never think that thieves will make any conscience to carry away your goods, when they find themselves in no danger of death, who have more cause to praise your pity, then to commend your wisdom: wherefore in time seek to prevent the ensuing evil.  
For my own part, I have that care of your good, that I would work all good means for your benefit, & yet not so much in respect of your profit, as for the desire I have to uphold justice, and seeing I find you and the rest so womanish, that you could not find in your hearts to hang a thief, I have devised how to make a gin, that shall cut off their heads without man's help, and if the King will allow thereof.  
When Hogekins heard this he was somewhat comforted in mind, and said to the Friar, that if by his cunning he would perform it he would once again make suit to the King to have his grant for the same. The Friar willed him to have no doubt in him: and so when he had devised it, he got a Carpenter to frame it out of hand.  
Hodgekins in the mean time posted up to the Court, and told his Majesty that the privilege of Halifax was not worth a pudding Why so, said our King? Because, quoth Hodgekins, we can get never a hangman to truss our thieves, but if it shall like your good Grace, (quoth he) there is a feat Friar, that will make us a device, which shall without the hand of man cut off the crags of all such Carls, if your Majesty will please to allow thereof.  
The King understanding the full effect of the matter, at length granted his petition: whereupon till this day, it is observed in Halifax, that such as are taken stealing of their cloth have their heads choyt off with the same gin.   

How the bailiffs of London could get no man to be a catch pole, and how certain Flemings took that office upon them, whereof many of them were fled into this Realm, by reason of certain waters that had drowned a great part of their country. Chap. 9  
THe City of London being at this time governed by Bailiffs, it came to pass, that in a certain fray two of their catchpoles were killed, for at that time they had not the name of sergeant's, and you shall understand, that their office was then so much hated and detested of Englishmen, that none of them would take it upon him so that the Bailiffs were glad to get any man whatsoever, and to give him certain wages to perform that office.  
It came to pass, as I said before, that two of their officers, by arresting of a man, were at one instant slain, by means whereof the Bailiffs were enforced to seek others to put in their rooms, but by no means could they get any, wherefore according to their wont manner, they made proclamation, that if there were any man that would present himself before them, he should not only be settled in that office during their lives, but also should have such maintenance and allowance, as for such men was by the City provided: and notwithstanding that it was an office most necessary in the commonwealth, yet did the poorest wretch despise it, that lived in any estimation among his neighbours.  
At last a couple of Flemings, which were fled into this land, by reason that their country was drowned with the sea, hearing the proclamation, offered themselves unto the Bailiffs, to serve in this place, who were presently received and accepted, & according to order had garments given them, which were of ij. colours, blue & red, their coats, breeches & stockings, whereby they were known and discerned from other men.  
Within half a year after, it came to pass, that Thomas Dove of Exeter came up to London, who having by his jollity and good fellowship, brought himself greatly behind hand, was in danger to diverse men of the city, among the rest, one of his creditors fee●d an officer to arrest him. The dutch man that had not been long experienced in such matters, and hearing how many of his fellows had been killed for attempting to arrest men, stood quivering and quaking in a corner of the street to watch for Tom Dove, and having long waited, at length he spien him; whereupon he prepared his mace ready, and with a pale countenance proceeded to do his office, at what time coming behind the man, suddenly with his mace he knocked him on the pate, saying. I arrest you, giving him such a blow, that he felled him to the ground.  
The catchpole thinking he had killed the man, he left his Mace behind him and ran away: the creditor he ran after him calling and crying that he should turn again: But the Fleming would not by any means come back, but got him quite out of the city, and took sanctuary at Westminster.  
Dove being come to himself, arose, and went to his inn, no man hindering his passage, being not a little glad he so escaped the danger. Yet nevertheless, at his next coming to London, another catchpole met with him, and arrested him in the King's name.  
Dove being dismayed at this mischievous chance, knew not what to do: at last he requested the catchpole that he would not violently cast him in prison, but stay till such time as he could send for a friend to be his surety; and although kindness in a catchpole be rare, yet was he won with fair words to do him this favour: whereupon Dove desired one to go to his host jarrat, who immediately came unto him and offered himself to be Doves surely.  
The Officer, who never saw this man before, was much amazed at his sight: for jarrat was a great and a mighty man of body, of countenance grim, and exceeding high of stature, so that the catchpole was wonderfully afraid, ask if he could find never a surety but the devil, most fearfully entreating him to conjure him away, and he would do Dove any favour. What, will you not take my word qd jarrat? sir qd the Catchpole, if 'twere for any matter in hell, I would take your word as soon as any devils in that place, but seeing it is for a matter on earth, I would gladly have a surety.  
Why thou whoreson cricket (quoth jarrat) thou maggot a pie, thou spinner, thou paltry spider, dost thou take me for a Devil? Sirrah, take my word, I charge thee, for this man, or else goodman butterfly, I'll make thee repent it. The officer, while he was in the house, said he was content, but so soon as he came into the street, he cried, saying: Help, help, good neighbours, or else the Devil will carry away my prisoner: notwithstanding, there was not one man would stir to be the Catchpoles aid. Which when he saw, he took fast hold on Thomas Dove, and would not by any means let him go.  
Ia●ret seeing this, made no more to do; but coming to the officer, gave him such a fillip on the forehead with his finger, that he felled the poor Fleming to the ground & while he lay in the street stretching his heels, jarret took Dove under his arm and carried him home where he thought himself as safe as king Charlemagne in mount Alben.  
The next morning jarret conveyed Dove out of town, who afterward kept him in the country, and came no more in the Catehpoles claws.   

How Duke Robert came a wooing to Margaret with the white hand, and how he appointed to come and steal her away from her masters, Chap. 10.  
THE beautiful Margaret, who had now dwelled with her dame the space of four years, was highly regarded and secretly loved of many gallant Gentlemen of the country, but of two especially, Duke Robert, and Sir William Ferris. It chanced on a time, that fair Margaret with many other of her Master's folks, went a hay-making, attired in a red stammel petticoat, and a broad straw hat upon her head, she had a hay fork, and in her lap she bore her breakfast. As she went along, Duke Robert, with one or two of his keepers, met with her, whose amiable sight did now anew kindle the secret fire of love. which long lay smothering in his heart, Wherefore meeting her so happily, he saluted her thus friendly.  
Fair maid, good morrow, are you walking so diligently to your labour? Needs must the weather be fair, where the sun shines so clear, and the hay wholesome that is dried with such splendent rays. Renowned and most notable Duke (qd. she) poor harvest folks pray for fair weather, and it is the labourers comfort to see his work prosper, and the more happy may we count the day, that is blessed with your princely presence: but more happy said the Duke, are they which are conversant in thy company. But let me entreat thee to turn back to thy matters with me, and commit thy fork to some that are fitter for such toil: trust me, me thinks thy dame is too much ill advised, in setting thee to such homely business. I muse thou canst endure this vile beseeming servitude, whose delicate limbs were never framed to prove such painful experiments.  
Albeit, quoth she, it becometh not me to control your judicial thoughts, yet, were you not the Duke, I would say, your opinion deceived you: though your fair eyes seem c●eere yet I deemed them unperfect▪ if they cast before your mind any shadow or spark of beauty in me: But I rather think, because it hath been an old saying, that women are proud to hear themselves praised, that you either speak this, to drive away the time, or to wring me from my too apparent imperfections. But I humbly entreat pardon, too long have I foreflowed my business, and shewue myself over bold in your presence: and therewith, with a courtly grace, bending her knees to the courteous Duke, she went forward to the fie●●, and the Duke to the town of Gloucester.  
When he came thither, he made his keeper great cheer, entreating them they would give him respite to be a while with old Grace; for we twain must have a game or two, quoth he: and for my safe return. I gage to you my princely word, that as I am a true Knight and a Gentleman, I will return saf● to your charge again.  
The keepers being content, the Duke departed, and with old Grace goes to the field, to peruse the workefolkes, where while Grace found himself busy in many matters, he took opportunity to talkewith Margaret She who by his letters before was privy to his purpose, guessed before hand the cause of his coming: to whom he spoke to this effect.  
Fair maid. I did long since manifest my love to theeby my letter; tell me therefore, were it not better to be a Duchess then a drudge? a Lady of high reputation, than a servant of simple degree? with me thou mightest live in plasure, where here thou drawest thy days forth in pain; by my love thou shouldst be made Lady of great treasures: where now thou art poor and beggarly; all manner of delights should them attend on thee, and whatsoever thy heart desired, thou shouldst have: wherefore seeing it lies in thy own choice, make thyself happy, by consenting to my suit.  
Sir (quoth she) I confess your love deserves a ladies favour, your affection a faithful friend, such a one as should make but one heart and mind of two hearts and bodies; but far unfit is it that the Turtle should match with the Eagle; though her love be never so pure, her wings are unfit to mount so high. While Thales gazed on the ftarres, he stumbled in a pit. And they that climb unadvisedly, catch a fall suddenly; what availeth high dignity in time of adversity? it neither helpeth the sorrow of the heart▪ nor removes the body's misery: as for wealth & treasure, what are they, but fortunes baits to bring men in danger? good for nothing but to make people forget themselves: and whereas you alle●ge poverty to be a henderer of the heart's comfort, I find it in myself contraty, knowing more surety to rest under a simple habit, than a royal rob: and verily there is none in the world poor, but they that think themselves poor▪ for such as are endued with content, are rich having nothing else: but he that is possessed with riches, without content, is most wretched and miserable. Wherefore most noble Duke, albeit I account my life unworthy of your least favour yet I would desire you to match your love to your like, and let me rest to my ●ake, a●● use my Fork for my living,  
Consider, save Margaret (quoth he) that it lies no● in man's power to place his love where he ●s●, being the work of an high deity. A bird was never seen in Pontus, nor true love in a fléeting mind; never shall I remove the affection of my heart, which in nature resembleth the stove Abiston▪ whose fire can never be cooled: wherefore sweet maiden give not obstinate denial, where gentle acceptance ought to be received.  
Fair sir quoth she) consider what high displeasure may rise by a rash match, what danger a King's frowns may breed, my worthless matching with your royalty, may perhaps regain your liberty, and hazard my life; then call to mind how little you should enjoy your love, or I my wedded Lord.  
The Duke at these words made this reply, that if she consented, she should not dread any danger. The thunder (quoth he) is driven away by ringing of bells, the Lion's wrath qualified by a yielding body: how much more a brother's anger with a brother's entreaty? By me he hath received many favours, and never yet did he requite any one of them: and who is ignorant that the princely crown which adorneth his head, is my right? all which I am content he shall still enjoy, so he requito my kindness. But if he should not, then would I be like those men (that eating of the tree Lutes) forget the country where they were borne, and never more should this clime cover my head, but with thee would I live in a strange land, being better content with an egg in thy company, then with all the delicates in England.  
The maiden hearing this, who with many other words was long wooed, at last consented; where yielding to him her heart with her hand, he departed, appointing to certify her from Cardiff Castle what determination he would-follow: so taking his leave of Grace, he went to his brothers, and with them posted to Cardiff.  
Now it is to be remembered, that sir William Ferres within a day or two after came unto Gray house, as it was his ordinary custom, but not so much I wis for Gray company, as for the mind he had to Margaret his maid, who although he were a married man, and had a fair Lady to his wife, yet he laid hard siege to the fort of this maidens chastity, having which many fair words sought to allure her, and by the offer of sundry rich gifts to tempt her. But when she saw, that by a hundred denials she could not be rid of him, she now chanced on a sudden to give him such an answer, a● drove him from a deceit into such a conceit, as never after that time he troubled her.  
Sir William Ferrer being very importunate to have her grant his desire, and when after sundry assaults she gave him still the repulse, he would needs know the reason why she would not love him: quoth he, If thou didst consider who he is that seeketh thy favour, what pleasure he may do thee by his purse, and what credit by his countenance, thou wouldst never stand on such nice points. If I be thy friend, who dareth be thy foe? and what is he that will once call thy name in question for any thing? therefore sweet girl, be better advised, and refuse not my offer being so large.  
Truly unt William (quoth she) though there be many reasons to make me deny your suit, yet is there one about the rest that causes me I cannot love you. Now I pray thee, my wench, let me know that quoth he, and I will amend it what soever it be. Pardon me sir, said Margaret, if I should speak my mind, it would possibly offend you, and do me no pleasure, because it is a defect in Nature, which no physic may cure. Sir William hearing her say so, being abashed at her speech, said, Fair Margaret, let me (if I may obtain no more at thy hands) yet entreat thee to know what this defect should be. I am not wry necked▪ crook-legd, stub footed lame-handed, nor blear-eyed: what can make this mislike: I never knew any body that took exceptions at my person before.  
And the more sorry am I quoth she, that I was so malapert to speak it, but pardon my presumption, good sir William, I would I had been like the Stork tongueless, then should I never have caused your does quiet. Nay, sweet Margaret, quoth he, tell me dear love, I commend thy singleness of heart, good Margaret speak. Good sir William let it rest quoth she, I know you will not believe it when I have revealed it, neither is it a thing that you can help: and yet such is my foolishness, had it not been for that, I think verily I had granted your suit ere now. But seeing you urge me so much to know what it is, I will tell you: it is sir, your ill favoured great nose▪ that hangs sagging so loathsomely to your lips that I cannot find in my heart so much as to kiss you.  
What my nose quoth he? is my nose so great and I never knew it? Certainly I thought my nose to be as comely as any man's: but this it is, we are all apt to think well of ourselves, and a great deal better than we ought: but let me see, (my nose!) by the mass ●is tru●, I do now feel it myself: Good Lord, how was I blinded before? Hereupon it is certain, that the knight was driven into such a conceit, as none could persuade him but his nose was so great indeed; his Lady, or any other that spoke to the contrary, he would say they were flatterers, and that they lied, insomuch that he would be ready to strike some of them that commended or spoke well of his nose. If they were men of worship or any other that contraried him in his opinion, he would swear they flouted him, and be ready to challenge them the field. He became so ashamed of himself, that after that day he would never go abroad, whereby Margaret was well rid of his company.  
On a time, a wise and grave gentleman seeing him grounded in his conceit so strongly, gave his Lady counsel, not to contrary him therein but rather say that she would seek out some cunning Physician to cure him: for, said he, as sir William hath taken this conceit of himself, so is he like never to bear other opinion, till his own conceit doth remove it, the which must be wisely wrought to bring it to pass.  
Whereupon the Lady having conferred with a Physician that bore a great name in the country, he undertook to remove this fond conceit by his skill. The day being appointed when the Physician should come, and the knight being told thereof, for very joy ●e would go forth to meet him, when a woman of the town saw the knight, having heard what rumour went because of his nose, she looked very steadfastly upon him: the knight casting his eye upon her, seeing her to gaze so wistly in his face, with an angry countenance, said thus to her, Why how now good housewife, can you not get you about your business? The woman being a shrewish quean, answered him crookedly. No marry can I not qo she. No, you drab▪ What is the cause, said the knight? Because quoth she, your nose stands in my way. Where with the knight being very angry, and abashed, went back again to his house.  
The Physician being come, he had filled a certain bladder with sheeps blood, and conveyed it into his fléeve, where at the issue of the bladder he had put in a piece of a swans quid through the which the blood should run out of the bladder so close by his hand, that he holding the knight by the nose, it might not be perceived, but that it issued thence. All things being prepared he told the knight, that by a foul corrupt blood wherewith the veins of his nose were overcharged, his impediment did grow, therefore ●d he, to have redress for this disease you must have a vein opened in your nose. whence this foul corruption must be taken; whereupon it will follow, that your nose will fall again to his natural proportion, and never shall you be croubled with this grief any more, and thereupon will I gauge mylife.  
I pray you master doctor said the knight, is my nose so big as you make it? With reverence I may speak it, said the physician, to tell the truth, and avoid flattery, I never saw a more misshapen nose so foul to ●ight. Lo you now Madam, quoth the knight, this is you that said my nose was as well. as handsome, and as comely a nose as any man's.  
Alas sir quoth she I spoke it (God wot) because you should not grieve at it, nor take my words in ill part, neither did it indeed become me to mislike of your nose.  
All this we will quickly remedy▪ said the physician, have no doubt: and with that, he very orderly pricked him in the nose, but not in any vein whereby he might bleed: and presently having a trick finely to unstop the quill, the blood ran into abason in great abundance: and when the bladder was empty, and the basin almost full the Physician seemed to close the vein, and asked him how he felt his nose, showing the great quantity of filthy blood which from thence he had taken.  
The knight be holding it with great wonder, said he thought that no man in the world had been troubled with such abundance of corrupt blood in his whole body, as lay in his misshapen nose, and therewithal he began to touch and handle his nose, saying, that he felt it mightily assuaged. Immediately a glass was brought wherein he might behold himself. Yea marry qd he now I praise God, I see my nose is come into some reasonable proportion, and I feel myself very well eased of the burden thereof; but if it continue thus, that's all. I will warrant your worship, said the physician, for ever being troubled with the like again. Whereupon the knight received great joy, and the Doctor a high reward.   

How Thomas of Reading was murdered at his hosts house of Colebrook, who also had murdered many before him, how their wickedness was at length revealed. Cham 11.  
THomas of Reading having many occasions to come to London, as well about his own affairs, as also the king's business, being in a great office under his Majesty, it chanced on a time, that his host and hostess of Colebrook, who through covetousness had murdered many of their guests, and having every time he came thither great store of his money to lay up, appointed him to be the next fat pig that should be killed: For it is to be understood, that when they plotted the murder of any man, this was always their term, the man to his wife & the woman to her husband, Wife, there is now a fat pig to be had, if you want one. Whereupon she would answer thus, I pray you put him in the hogsty till to morrow. This was, when any man came thither alone without others in his company, and they saw he had great store of money.  
This man should be then laid in the chamber right over the kitchen, which was a fair chamber, and better set out then any other in the house; the best bedstead therein, though it were little and low, yet was it most cunningly carved, and fair to the eye: the feet whereof were fast nailed to the chamber floor, in such sort, that it could not in any wise fall, the bed that lay therein was fast sowed to the sides of the bedstead: Moreover, that part of the chamber whereupon this bed and bedstead stood, was made in such sort that by the pulling out of two iron pings below in the kitchen, it was to be let down and taken up by a draw bridge, or in manner of a trap door: moreover in the kitchen, directly under the place where this should fall: was a mighty great cauldron, wherein they used to seethe their liquor when they went to brewing. Now, the men appointed for the slaughter, were laid into this bed and in the dead time of the night when they were sound a sleep by plucking out the foresaid iron pins, down would the man fall out of his bed into the boiling cauldron, and all the clothes that were upon him: where being suddenly scalded and drowned, he was never able to cry or speak one word.  
Then had they a little ladder ever standing ready in the kitchen, by the which they presently mounted into the said chamber, and there closely took away the man's apparel, as also his money, in his male or capcase: and then lifting up the said falling floor which hung by hinges, they made it fast as before.  
The dead body would they take presently out of the Cauldron and throw it down the river, which ran near unto their house, whereby they escaped all danger.  
Now if in the morning any of the rest of the guests that had talked with the murdered man over eve, chanced to ask for him, as having occasion to ride the same way that he should have done, the goodman would answer, that he took: horse a good while before day, and that he himself did set him forward: the horse the goodman would also take out of the stable, & convey him to a hay-barne of his, that stood from his house a mile or two, whereof himself did always keep the keys full charily, and when any hay was to be brought from thence, with his own hands he would deliver it: then, before the horse should go from thence, he would dismarke him: as it he ware a long tail, he would make him curtal, or else crop his ears, or cut his main, or put out one of his eyes; and by this means he kept himself a long time unknown.  
Now Thomas of Reading as I said before, being marked, and kept for a fat pig, he was laid in the same chamber of death but by reason Grace of Gloucester chanced also to come that: night, he escaped scalding.  
The next time he came, he was laid there again, but before he fell asleep, or was warm in his bed, one came riding through the town, and cried piteously, that London was all on a fire, and that it had burned down Thomas Beckets house in West cheap, and a great number more in the same stréet●, and yet (quoth he) the fire is not quenched.  
Which tidings when Thomas of Reading heard, he was very sorrowful, for of the same Becket that day had he received a great piece of money, and had left in his house many of his writings and some that appertained to the king also: therefore there was no nay but he would ride back again to London presently, to see how the matter stood; thereupon making himself ready, departed. This cross fortune caused his host to frown, nevertheless the next time (quoth he) will pay for all.  
Notwithstanding, God so wrought, that they were prevented then likewise, by reason of a great ●ray that happened in the house betwixt a couple the fell out at Dice, insomuch as the murderers themselves were enforced to call him up, being a man in great authority, that he might set the house in quietness, out of the which by means of this quarrel, they doubted to lose many things.  
Another time when he should have been laid in the same place he fell so sick, that he requested to have some body to watch with him, whereby also they could not bring their vile purpuse to pass. But hard it is to escape the ill fortunes whereunto a man is allotted: for albeit that the next time that he came to London his horse stumbled and broke one of his legs, as he should ride homeward, yet hired he another to hasten his own death: for there was no remedy but he should go to Colbrook that night: but by the way he was so heavy a sleep, that he could scant keep himself ●● the ●●ddle; and when he came near unto the Town his nose burst out suddenly ableeding  
Well, to his Inn he came, and so heavy was his heart, that he could eat no meat: his host and hoastise hearing he was so Melanchely, came up to cheer him, saying, jesus, Master Cole, what ails you to night? never did we see you thus sad before: will it please you to have a quart of burnt sack? With a good will (quoth he) and would ●o God Thomas Dove were her, he would surely make me merry, and we should lack no music: but I am sorry for the man withal my heart, that he is come so far behind hand: but alas, so much can every man say, but what good doth it him? No no, it is not words can help a man in this case, the man had need of other relief then so. Let me see: I have but one child in the world & that is my daughter, and half that I have is hers, the other half my wives. What then? shall I be good to no body but them? In conscience, my wealth is too much for a couple to possess, and what is our Religion without charity? And to whom is charity more to be shown then to decayed householders?  
Good my host lend me a pen and ink, and some paper, for I will write a letter unto the poor man strait, and something I will give him: that alms which a man bestows with his own hands he shallbe sure to have delivered, and God knows how long I shall live.  
With that, his hoastise dissemblingly answered, saying. Doubt not. Master Cole, you are like enough by the course of nature to live many years. God knows (quoth he) I never found my heart so heavy before. By this time, pen, ink and paper was brought, setting himself to writing, as followeth.  
In the name of God, Amen I bequeath my soul to God, and my body to the ground, my goods equally between my wife Elinor, and Isabel my daughter. Item I give to Thomas Dove of Exeter one hundred pounds, nay that is too little, I give to Thomas Dove two hundred pounds, in money, to be paid unto him presently upon his demand thereof by my said wife and daughter.  
Ha, how say you my host (qd he) is not this well? I pray you read it. His host looking thereon, said, why Master Cole, what have you written h●●e? you said you would write a letter, but me thinks you have made a will, what need have you to do thus? thanks be to God, you may live many fair years. 'tis true (quoth Cole) if it please God, and I trust this writing cannot shorten my days: but let me see, have I made a will? Now I promise you, I did verily purpose to write a letter: notwithstanding. I have written that that God put into my mind: but look once again my host, fs it not written there, that Dove shall have two hundred pounds, to be paid when he comes to demand it? yes indeed, said his host. Well then, all is well said Cole, and it shall go as it is for me. I will not bestow the new writing thereof any more.  
Then folding it up, he sealed it, desiring that his host would send it to Exeter. He promised that he would, notwithstanding Cole was not so satisfied: but after some pause, he would needs hire one to carry it. And so sitting down sadly in his chair again, upon a sudden he burst forth a weeping: they demanding the cause thereof he spoke as followeth:  
No cause of these tears I know: but it comes now into my mind (said Cole) when I set toward this my last journey to London, how my daughter took on, what a coy●e she kept to have me stay: and I could not be rid of the little baggage a long time, she did so hang about me: when her mother by violence took her away, she cried out most mainly, O my father, my father, I shall never see him again.  
Alas, pretty soul, said his hostess, this was but mere kindness in the girl, and it seemeth she is very fond of you. But alas, why should you grieve at this? you must consider that it was but childishness. ay, it is indeed, said Cole, and with that he began to nod. Then they asked him if he would go to bed. No said he, although I am heavy, I have no mind to go to bed at all. With that certain musicians of the town came to the chamber, and knowing Master Cole was there, drew out their instruments, and very solemnly began to play.  
This music comes very well (said Cole) and when he had listened a while thereunto. he said, Me thinks these instruments sound like the ring of S. Marry Outries bells, but the base drowns all the rest: and in my ear it goes like a bell y● rings a forenoon's knell, for God's sake let them leave off, and bear them this simple reward. The musicians being gone, his host asked if now it would please him to go to bed; for (quoth he) it is well-near eleven of the clock.  
With that, Cole beholding his host and hostess earnestly, began to start back, saying, what ail you ●o look so like pale death? good Lord, what have you done, that your hands are thus bloody? what my hands, said his host? Why you may see they are neither bloody nor foul: either your eyes do greatly dazzle, or else fancies of a troubled mind do delude you.  
Alas my host, you may see, said he, how weak my wits are, I never had my head so idle before. Come, let me drink once more, and then I will to bed, and trouble you no longer. With that he made himself unready, and his hostess was very diligent to warm a kerchief, and put it about his head. Good Lord said he I am not sick, I praise God, but such an alteration I find in myself as I never did before.  
With that the screech owl cried piteously, and anon after th● night raven sat croaking hard by his window, jesus have mercy upon me. quoth he, what an ill favoured cry do yonder carrion birds make! and therewithal he laid him down in his bed, from whence he never rose again.  
His host and hostess, that all this while noted his troubled mind, began to commune betwixt themselves thereof. And the man said, he knew not what were best to be done. By my consent (quoth he) the matter should pass, for I think it is not best to meddle on him. What man (quoth she) faint you now? have you done so many, and do you shrink at this? Then showing him a great deal of gold which Cole had left with her, she said, Wpuld it not grieve a body's heart to lose this? hang the old churl, what should be do living any longer? he hath too much, and we have too little: ●ut husband, let the thing be done and then this is our own.  
Her wicked counsel was followed, and when they had listened at his chamber door, they heard the man sound asleep. All is safe, quoth they, and down into the kitchen they go, their servants being all in bed, and pulling out the iron pins, down fell the bed, and the man dropped out into the boiling cauldron. He being dead, they betwixt them cast his body into the river, his clothes they hid away, and made all things as it should be: but when he came to the stable to convey thence Coals horse, the stable door being open, the horse had got loose, and with a part of the halter about his neck, and straw trussed under his belly, as the ostlers had dressed him over eeve, he was gone out at the back side, which led into a great field joining to the house, and so leaping divers hedges, being alu●●ie stand horse, had got into a ground where a mare was grazing, with whom he kept such a coil, that they got into the high way, where one of the town meeting them, knew the mare, and brought her & the hurse to the man that owed her.  
In the mean space the musicans had been at the Inn, and in requited all of their evenings gift, they intended to give Cole some music in the morning, The goodman told them he took horse before day: likewise there was a guest in the house that would have borne him company to Reading; unto whom the host also answered, that he himself set him upon horse back, and that he went long ago. Anon comes the man that owed the mare, enquiring up and down to know and if none of them miss a horse, who said no. At last he came to the sign of the Crane where Cole lay: and calling the ostler's he demanded of them if they lacked none: they said no. Why then said the man, I perceive my mare is good for something; for if I send her to field single, she wilcome home double: thus it passed on all that day and the night following. But the next day after, Coles wife musing that her husband came not home, sent one of her men on horseback, to see if he could meet him; and if (quoth she) you meet him not betwixt this and Colebrook, ask for him at the Crane, but if you find him not there, then ride to London; for I doubt he is either sick, or else some mischance hath fallen unto him.  
The fellow did so, and ask for him at Colebrook, they answered, he went homeward from thence such a day. The servant musing what should be become of his master, and making much inquiry in the town for him; at length one told him of a hor●e that was found on the high way, and no man knew whence he came. He going to see the horse, knew him presently▪ and to the Crane he goes with him. The host of the house perceiving this, was blank, and that night fled secretly away. The fellow going unto the justice desired his help, presently after word was brought that jarman of the Crane was gone; then all man said he had surely made Cole away: and the musicians told what jarman said to them when they would have given Cole music. Then the woman being apprehended & examined confessed the truth. jarman soon after was taken in Windsor forest. He and his wife were both hanged after they had laid open all these things before expressed. Also he confessed, that he being a carpenter made that false falling floor, and how his wife devised it. And how they had murdered by that means lx. persons. And yet notwithstanding all the money which they had gotten thereby, they prospered not, but at their death were found very far in debt.  
When the king heard of this murder, he was for the space of seven. days so sorrowful and heavy as he would not hear any suit, giving also commandment, that the house should quite be consumed with fire wherein Cole was murdered, and that no man should ever build upon that cursed ground.  
Coals substance at his death was exceeding great, he had daily in his house an hundred men servants and xl. maids; he maintained beside above two or three hundred people, spinners and carders, and a great many other householders. His wife after never married; and at her death she bestowed a mighty sum of money toward the maintaining of the new builded monastery. Her daughter was most richly married to a gentleman of great worship, by whom she had many children. And some faith, that the river whereinto Cole was cast, did ever since carry the name of Cole, being called, The river of Cole, and the town of Colebrook.   

How divers of the Clothier's wives went to the churching of Suttons wife of Salisbury, and of their merriments. Cham 12.  
Svttons' wife of Salisbury which had lately been delluered of a son, against her going to Church, prepared great there: at what time Suttons wife of Southampton came thither, and so did divers other of the Clothier's wives, only i● make merry at this Churching feast: and whilst these Dames sat at the ●able, Crab. Weasel, and Wren waited on the board, and as the old Proverb speaketh, Many women many words▪ so ●ellit out at that time: for there was her, wherein he requested, that she would be ready to meet him in the forest, betwixt Cardiff and Gloucester.  
The young Lady having secretly received his message, unknown to her master or dame, in a morning betime made her ready and got forth, walking to the appointed place, where her love should meet her.  
During her abode there, and thinking long ere her loan came, she entered into divers passions, which indeed presaged some disaster fortune to follow. O my dear Love, said she, how slack art thou in performing thy promise▪ why do not thy deeds agree with thy inditing? see, these are▪ thy words, Come my dear Margaret, and with Cupid's swift wings fly to thy friend, be now as nimble in thy footing, as the Camels of Bractria, that run an hundred miles a day, I will wait and stay for thee, so I stay not too long. There is no country like Austria for ambling horses, & to carry thee I have got one.  
O my Love (quoth she) here am I, but where art thou? O why dost thou play the truant with Time, who like the wind slides away unseen? An ambling jennet of Spain is toe flow to serve our turns. A flying horse, for flying Lovers were most meet. And thus casting many looks through the Sylvan shades, up and down to espy him, she thought every minuse, an hour, till she might see him, sometimes she would wish herself a bird, that she might fly through the air to meet him, or a pretty squirrel no clime the highest tree to descry his coming: but finding her wishes vain, she began thus to excuse him and persuaded herself, saying.  
How much too blame am I, to find fault with my friend? Alas men that lack their liberty, must come when they can, not when they would, poor prisoners cannot do what they desire, and then why should I be so hasty? Therefore if safely I may lay me down▪ I will beguile unquiet thoughts with quiet s●eere: it is said that Galino breeds no Serpents, nor doth England's forests nourish Bears or Lions, therefore without hurt I hope I may test a while. Thus leaving fair Margaret in a sweet slumber, we will return to Duke Robert, who had thus plotted his escape from his keepers.  
Having liberty of the King to hawk and hunt, he determined on a day, as he should follow the chase, to leave the hounds to the Hart, and the hunters to their horns and being buss in their sport, himself would fly, which he performed at that is time, when he appointed Margaret to meet him, and so coming to the place, his Horse all in a water, and himself in a sweat, finding his Love a sleep, he awaked her with a kiss, saying. Arise, fair Margaret, now comes the time wherein thou shalt be made a Queen: and presently setting her on horseback he posted away.  
Now when the Keepers saw they had lost his company, and that at the kill of the game, he was not present, they were among themselves in such a mutiny, that they were ready one to stab another. It was thy fault, said one, that he thus escaped from us, that had more mind of thy pleasure, then of thy prisoner, and by this means we are all undone. The other said as much to him▪ that he had thought he had followed him in the chase: but leaving at last this contention, the one posted up to the King. while the others coasted up and down the country to search for the Duke, who having killed his horse in traveling, was most unhappily met on foot with fair Margaret, ere he could come to any Town, where he might for money have another. But when he spied his Keepers come to take him, he desired Margaret to make shiftfor herself, and to seek to escape them. But she being of a contrary mind, said, she would live and die with him.  
The Duke seeing himself ready to be surprised, drew out his sword, and said, he would buy his liberty with his life, before he would yield to be any more a prisoner; and thereupon began a great fight betwixt them, insomuch that the Duke had killed two of them: but himself being ●ore wounded, and faint with evermuch bleeding, at length fe●● down, being not able any longer ●o stand: and by this means the good Duke was taken with his fair love, & both of them cammitted to prison.  
But in the mean space, when Gray wife had missed her maid, and saw she was quite gone, she made great lamentation for her among her neighbours: for she▪ loved her as dearly as any child that ever she bore of her own body. O Margaret (quoth the) what cause hadst thou thus to leave me? if thou did it mislike of any thing why didst thou not tell me? If thy wages were too little, I would have mended it: If thy apparel had been too simple, thou shouldest have had better: If thy work had been too great. I would have had help for thee.  
Farewell. my sweet Meg, the best servant that ever came in any man's house many may I have of thy name, but never any of thy nature, thy diligence is much in thy hands I laid the whole government of my house, and thereby eased myself of that care which now will ●umber me.  
here she hath left me my keys unto my chests, but my comfort is gone with her presence, every gentle word that she was wont to speak, comes now into my mind, her courteous behaviour shall I never forget: with how sweet and modest a countenance would she qualify my overhasty nature? It reputes my ha●t that ever I spoke foul word unto her. O Meg, wert thou here again, I would never chide thee more: but I was an unworthy dame for such a servant: what will become of me now, if I should chance to be sick, seeing she is gone, that was wont to be both my apothecary and Physician?  
Well, quoth her neighbours, there is no remedy now, but to rest content, you shall one day hear of her, doubt you not and think this, that she was not so good, but you may get another as good, and therefore do not take it so heavily. O neighbour, blame me not to grieve, seeing I have lost so great a jewel, and sure I am persuaded, that scant in a body's life time, they shall meet with the like.  
I protest, I would circuit England round about on my bare feet to meet with her again. O, my Meg was surely stole away from me, else would she not have gone in such sort. Her husband on the other side grieved as much, and rested not night nor day riding up and down to seek her: but she, poor soul, is fast locked up in prison, and therefore cannot be met withal.  
But when the King understood of his brothe●● escape, he was marvelous wrath, giving great charge and commandment when he was taken, that both his ●ies should be put out, and he kept in prison till his dying day; appointing also, that the maid should lose her life for presumption in loving him.  
This matter being rumoured over all England, it came to the ears of Grace and his wife, who hearing that Margaret also was there in prison appointed to die, the good aged woman never rested till she came to the court, where kneeling before the King, with many tears she besought his Majesty to spare the maiden's life, saying, Most royal king consider I humbly beseech you, that the duke your brother was able to entice any woman to his love, much more a seely maiden, especially promising her marriage, to make her a Lady, a Duchess, or a Queen, who would refuse such an offer, when at the instant they might get both a princely husband and a high dignity? if death be a lovers guerdon, than what is due to hatred? I am in my heart persuaded, that had my poor Margaret thought it would have bred your highness displeasure, she would never have bought his love so dear. Had your Grace made it known to your commons, that it was unlawful for any to marry the duke your brother, who would have attempted such an action? if she had wilfully disobeyed your Grace's commandment, she might have been thought worthy of death; but seeing ignorantly she offended. I beseech your Grace recall the sentence, and let me still enjoy my servant, for never will I rise till your Majesty have granted my petition.  
His Highness, who was of nature merciful, be holding the woman's abundant tears, took pity on her, and granted her suit; which being obtained, she went home with all haste possible. And from thence, she with her husband taking their journey to Cardiff castle, they came at that very instant when the maiden was led toward her death, who went in most joyful sort to the same, saying▪ that they were not worthy to be accounted true Lovers, that were not willing to die for love: and so with a smiling countenance she passed on, as if she had eaten Apium Ri●us, which causeth a man to die laughing: but her dame Grace seeing her, fell about her neck, and with many kisses embraced her, saying, Thou shalt not die my wench, but go home with me, and for thy delivery, behold here the King's letters; and with that she delivered them up to the governor of the Castle, who reading them found these words written: We pardon the maid's life, and grant her liberty, but let her not pass, till she see her lovers ●ies put out, which we will have you to do in such sort, that not only the sight may perish, but the eye continue fair, for which cause I have sent down doctor Piero that he may execute the same.  
The governor of the Castle having read the King's letter, said thus to the maiden. The King's majesty hath pardoned thy life, and allowed thy liberty. but you must not pass before you see your lovers eyes put out. O sir, said the maiden, mistake not yourself, they are my eyes that must be put out, and not the Dukes: as his offence grew by my means, so I being guilty, aught to receive the punishment.  
The king's commandment must be fulfilled, said the governor: and therewithal D Robert was brought forth, who hearing that he must lose his eyes, said thus: the noble mind is never conquered by grief, nor overcome by mischance: but as the Hart reneweth his age by eating the serpent, so doth a man lengthen his life with devouring sorrow: my eyes have offended the King, and they must be punished, my heart is in as great fault, why is not that killed?  
The King's majesty said the governor. spares your life of mere love, and only is content to satisfy the Law with the loss of your eyes, wherefore take in good part this punishment and think you have deserved greater than is granted.  
With this Margaret cried out, saying, O my dear love, most gentle Prince, well may you wish that I had never been borne, who by seeing of me must lose your sight; but happy should I count myself, if it so please the King, that I might redeem thy eyes to myself, or else, that being an equal offendor, I might receive equal punishment: hadst thou sustained this smart for some ●u. or Princess of high blood, it might with the more ease be borne, but to endure it for such a one as I, it must needs cause atreble grief to be increased.  
Content thee fair Margaret said the duke, for honour ought to be given to virtue, and not riches: for glory, honour, nobility and riches, without virtue, are but cloaks of maliciousness. And now let me take my leave of thy beauty, for never must I behold thy face: notwithstanding I account my eyes well lost, in that I do forego them for so peerless a paragon. Now fair heavens, farewell, the Sun, Moon and Stars shall I in this world never behold again; and farewell also the fruitful earth: well may I feel thee, but those poor windows of my body are now denied to view thee any more: and though the world hath never been my foe, yet will I bid it farewell too, and farewell all my friends; whiles I live here in this world, I must suppose to sleep, & wake when I come in heaven, where I hope to see you all again. Yet had it pleased the King, I had rather have lost my life than my eyes. Life, why what is it but a flower, a bubble in the water, a span long, and full of misery? of such small account is life, that every soldier will sell it for six pence. And trust me I do now detest life, worse than a goat doth hate basil.  
With that the Doctor prepared his instrument, and being ready to set to the Duke's eyes, he said, O stay master doctor, till I have conveyed my loves countenance down into my heart: Come hither my sweet, and let me give thee my last kiss, while my eyes may direct me to thy cherry lips. Then embracing her in his arms, he said, O that I might give thee a kiss of xx years long, and to satisfy my greedy eyes with thy fair sight: yet it doth somewhat content me because thou art present at my punishment, that I may hold thee by the hand, the comfort my heart at the sudden prick of my eye.  
This being said, the Doctor performed his duty, and so put out the crystal sight; at what time D. Robert started up, and with a most manly courage said, I must thank his Majesty, that though he depriveth me of my sight, yet he leaveth me eyes to weep for my sins. But so soon as Margaret beheld the deed, she fell down in a swoon, and much ado her dame had to recover her life: which when the duke understood, he was wondrous woe, groping for her with his bleeding eyes▪ saying. O where is my love? for God's sake have regard to her. And I pray you most heartily good goodwife Grace, let her have this favour for my sake, that she may be used kindly. And with that the Keepers led him into the castle, and Margaret was carried away wondrous sick and ill: but her dame was most tender over her, and would suffer her to lack nothing. When she was somewhat well recovered, her dame ●ray set her on horse back: and at her coming to Gloucester there was no small joy.   

How Tom Dove being fallen to decay, was forsaken of his friends, and despised of his servants: and how in the end he was raised again through the liberatity of the Clothiers. Chap. 14.  
SUch as seek the pleasure of this world, follow a shadow wherein is no substance: and as the adder Aspis tickleth a man to death so doth vain pleasure flatter us, till it makes us forget God, and consume our substance, as by Tom Dove it is apparent, who had through a free heart, and a liberal mind wasted his wealth, and look how his goods consumed, so his friends fled from him: And albeit he had been of great ability, and thereby dove good unto many, yet no man regarded him in his poverty, but casting a scornful countenance upon him, they passed by him with slender salutation: neither would any of his old acquaintance do him good, or pleasure him the value of a farthing; his former friendship done to them was quite forgot, and he made of as much account, as job when he sat on the dunghill.  
Now when his wicked servants saw him in this disgrace with the world, they on tother side began to disdain him. Notwithstanding that he (to his great cost) had long time brought them up, yet did they nothing regard it, but behind his back in most scornful sort derided him, and both in their words and actions greatly abuse him, reverence they would do none unto him but when they spoke, it was in such malapert sort, as would grieve an honest mind to hear it.  
At last it came to pass, that breaking out into mere contempt, they said they would stay no longer with him, and that it was a great discredit to them, to serve a person so beggarly: whereupon they thought it convenient to seek for their benefits elsewhere. When the distressed man found the matter so plain, being in great grief, he spoke thus unto them. Now do I find, to my sorrow, the small trust that is in this false world. Why my masters (quoth he) have you so much forgotten my former prosperity, that you nothing regard my present necessity? in your wants I forsook you not, in your sickness I left you not, nor despised you in your great poverty: it is not unknown, though you do not consider it, that I took some of you up in the high way, other some from your needy parents, and brought the rest from mere beggary to a house of bounty, where from paltry boys, I brought you up to man's estate, and have, to my great cost, taught you a trade, whereby you may live like men. And in requital of all my ●urteste, cost and good will, will you now on a sudden forsake me? is this the best recompense that you can find in your hearts to yield me?  
This is far from the minds of honest servants. The fierce Lion is kind to those that do him good: pluck but one thorn out of his foot, and for the same he will show manifold favours. The wild Bull will not overthrow his Dam: and the very Dragons are dutiful to their nourishers. Be better advised, and call to mind, I beseech you, that I have not plucked a thorn out of your feet, but drawn your whole bodies out of perils, and when you had no means to help yourselves, I only was your support, and he, that when all other forsook you did comfort you in all your extemities.  
And what of all this, quoth one of them? because you took us up poor, doth it therefore follow, that we must be your slaves? We are young men, and for our parts, we are no further to regard your profit, than it may stand with our preferment: Why should we lose our benefit, to pleasure you? If you taught us our trade, & brought us up from boys to men, you had our service for it, whereby you made no small benefit, if you had as well used it, as we got it. But if you be poor, you may thank yourself, being a just scourge for your prodigality, and it is my opinion plain, that to stay with you, is the next way to make us, like you, neither able to help ourselves, nor our friends therefore in brief, come pay me my wages, for I will not stay, let the rest do as they will for I am resolved.  
Well said his Master if needs thou wilt be gone, here is part of thy wages in hand, and the rest, so soon as God sends it, thou shalt have it: and with that, turning to the rest. he said. Let me yet entreat you to stay and leave me not altogether destitute of help: by your labours must I live, & without you I know not what to do. Consider therefore my need, and regard my great charge. And if for my sake you will do nothing, take compassion on my poor children, stay my sliding foot, and let me not utterly fall through your flying from me.  
Tush (quoth they) what do you talk to us▪ we can have better wages and serve a man of credit. where our fare shall be far better, and our gains greater: therefore the world might count us right coxcombs, if we should forsake our profit, to pleasure you: therefore adieu, God send you more money, for you are like to have no more men: and thus they departed.  
When they were gone, within a while after they met one with another, saying What cheer? are you all come a way: In faith I what should we do else (quoth they; but hearest thou, sirrah, hast thou got thy wages? Not yet saith the other but I shall have it, and that is a good, 'tis but ●. shillings, sayst thou so (quoth he now I see thou art one of God almighty's idiots, Why so, saith the other? Because (quoth he) thou wilt be fed with shells: but I'll tell thee on thing, 't were best for thee quickly to arrest him, lest some other doing it before there be nothing left to pay thy debt hold thy peace, fair words make fools fain and it is an old saying One bird in hand is worth two in bush: if thou dost not arrest him preseutly. I will not give thee two pence for thy ten shillings. How shall I come by him (quoth the other)? Give me but two pots of ale, and I'll betray him saith he. So they being agreed, this smooth▪ faced judas comes to his late Master and told him that a friend of his at the door would speak with him. The unmistrusting man thinking no evil. went to the door, where preseently an Officer arrested him at his man's suit.  
The poor man seeing this, being strucken into a sudden ●or row, in the grief of his heart spoke to this effect: Ah thou lewd fellow, art thou the first man that seeks to augment my misery? Have I thus long given the● bread, to breed my overthrow? and nourished thee in thy need, to work my destruction? Full little did I think, when thou so often didst dip thy false fingers in my dish, that I gave food to my chiefest foe: but what booteth complaints in these extremes? go wife, quoth he unto my neighbours, and see if thou canst get any of them to be my bail. But in vain was her pains spent. Then he sent her to his kinsfolks▪ and they dented him: to his brother, and he would not come at him, so that there was no shift, but to prison he must: but as he was going, a messenger met him, with a letter from Master Cole. wherein as you heard, he had promised him two hundred pounds: which when the poor man read, he greatly rejoiced, and showing the same to the officer, he was content, to take his own word. Whereupon ●om Dove went presently to Reading, where, at his coming he found all the rest of the Clothiers lamenting Coals untimely death, where the woeful widow paid him the money, by which deed all the rest of the Clothiers were induced to do something for Dove. And thereupon one gave him ten pounds, another twenty, another thirty pounds, to begin the world anew: and by this means (together with the blessing of God) he grew into greater credit than ever he was before. And riches being thus come upon him, his former friends came fawning unto him, and when he had no need of them, than every one was ready to proffer him kindness. His wicked servants also that disdained him in his distress, were after glad to come creeping unto him, entreating with cap and knee for his favour and friendship. And albeit he seemed to forgive their trespasses done against him, yet he would often say, he would never trust them for a straw. And thus he ever after lived in great wealth and prosperity, doing much good to the poor. and at his death, left to his children great lands.   

How fair Margaret made her estate and high birth known to her master and dame: and for the entire love she bore to Duke Robert, made a vow never to marry, but became a Nun in the Abbey at Gloucester. Chap. 15.  
AFter fair Margaret was come again to Gloucester, never did she behold the clear day, but with a weeping eye: and so great was the sorrow which she conceived for the loss of Duke Robert her faithful Lover, that she utterly despised all the pleasures of this life, and at last bewrayed herself in this sort unto her Dame.  
O my good Master and Dame, too long have I dissembled my parentage from you, whom the froward distinies do pursue to deserved punishment. The woeful daughter am I of the unhappy Earl of Shrewsbury, who ever since his banishment have done nothing but drawn mischance after me: wherefore let me entreat you (dear Master and Dame to have your good wills, to spend the remnant of my life in, some blessed Monastery.  
When Grace and his wife heard this, they wondered greatly, as well at her birth, as at her strange demand. Whereupon her dame knew not how to call her, whether Maiden or Madam, but said O good Lord, are you a Lady and I knew it not? I am sorry that I knew it not before. But when the folks of the house heard that Margaret was a Lady, there was no small alteration: and moreover her Dame said, that she had thought to have had a match between her & her son: And by many persuasions did seek to withdraw her from being a Nun saying in this manner, What Margaret, thou art young & fair the▪ world (no doubt) hath better fortune for thee, whereby thou mayst leave an honourable issue behind thee, in whom thou mayst live after death.  
These and many other reasons did they allege unto her, but all in vain, she making this reply, Who knoweth not that this world giveth the pleasure of an hour, but the sorrow of many days? for it payeth ever that which it promiseth, which is nothing else but continual trouble and vexation of the mind. Do you think, if I had the offer and choice of the mightiest princes of Christendom, that I could match myself better then to my Lord jesus? No no, he is my husband, to whom I yield myself both body and soul, giving to him my heart, my love, and most firm affection: I have overlong loved this vile world? therefore I beseech you farther dissuade me not.  
When her friends by no means could alter her opinion, the matter was made known to his Majesty, who against the time that she should be received into the monastery, came to Glaucester with most part of his Nobility, to honour her action with his princely presence.  
All things being therefore prepared the young Lady was in most princely wise attired in a gown of pure white satin, her kertle of the same, embroidered with gold about the skirts, in most curious sort, her head was garnished with gold, pearls, and precious stones, having her hair like threads of burnished gold, hanging down behind her, in manner of a princely bride: about her ivory neck jewels of inestimable price were hung, and her handwreasts were compassed about with bracelets or bright shining diamonds.  
The streets through the which she should pass, were pleasantly decked with green ●aken boughs. Then came the young Lady most like an heavenly Angel out of her master's house; at what time all the bells in Gloucester were solemnly rung, she being led betwixt the King's majesty, having on his royal robes and imperial crown, and the chief Bishop wearing his Mitre, in a Cope of cloth of gold, over her head a Canopy of white silk, fringed about in princely manner: before her went an hundred priests singing, and after her all the chief Ladies of the land: then all the wives and maidens of Gloucester followed, with an innumerable sort of people on every side standing to behold her. In this sort she passed on to the cathedral church, where she was brought to the Nunnery gate.  
The Lady Abbess received her: where the beautiful maiden kneeling down, made her prayer in sight of all the people: then with her own hands she undid her virgins fair gown, and took it off, and gave it away to the poor: after that, her kertle, than her jewels, bracelets and rings, saying. Farewell the pride & vanity of this world. The ornaments of her head were the next she gave away: and then was she led on one side, where she was stripped, and instead of her smock of soft silk, had a smock of rough hair put upon her.  
Then came one with a pair of shears, and cut off her golden coloured locks, and with dust and ashes all bestrewd her head and face. Which being done, she was brought again into the people's sight barefoot and barelegd, to whom she said: Now farewell the world, farewell the pleasures of this life, farewell my Lord the King, and to the Duke's sweet love farewell; now shall my eyes weep for my former transgressions, and no more shall my tongue talk of vanity: farewell my good master and dame, and farewell all good people.  
With which words she was taken away, and never after seen abroad. When duke Robert heard thereof, he desired that at his death, his body might be buried in Gloucester: in that town, quoth he, where first my clear eyes beheld the heavenly beauty of my love, and where for my sake she forsook the world: which was performed accordingly.  
The King also at his death requested to be buried at Reading, for the great love he bore to that place, amongst those Clothiers, who living, were his heart's comfort. Grace dying wondrous wealthy, gave land to the monastery, whereinto Margaret was taken. William. Fitzallen also died a most rich man, having builded many houses for the poor, whose son Henry after was the first Mayor that ever was in London.  
Sutton of Sailsbury did also at his death much-good, and gave an hundred it. to be yearly lent to poor weavers of the town to the world's end, Simon of Southampton gave a most bounteous gift towards the building of a monastery at Winchester. Hodgekins of Halifax did also great good, and so did Cuthbert of Kendal, who had married xx: ij couples out of his own house, giving each of them x. li. to begin the world withal. Martin Byram of Manchester gave toward the building of a free school in Manchester, a great mass of money. And thus (gentle Reader) have I finished my Story of these worthy men, desiring thee to take my pains in good part, which will encourage me to greater matters perceiving this courteously accepted.   
FINIS.