¶ A right pleasant and merry history, of the Mylner of Abyngton, with his Wife, and his fair Daughter: and of two poor scholars of Cambridge. ❧ whereunto is adjoined another merry Iest, of a Sargeaunt that would haue learned to be a friar. ❧ Imprinted at London, by richard jones. ❧ A very merry history, of the Milner of Abington, fair Lordings if you list to here A merry Iest your mindes to cheer, Then hearken to this merry tale Was never meryer set to sale At Abyngton it so befell thereby a widow late did dwell She had two sons that she loved well For father had they none At Cambrige are they set I ween five mile is them between Their spendinge was full mean, To the school there did they go Some learning for to get you know By good mens help they were kept so Other finding none they had This life long they led The mother found them at board and bed And by these means were they fed More than seven year Their mother then vpon a day To Cambridhe she took the way And to hir sons 'gan she say With a heavy cheer sons I will be here anon And than I wot ye will come home But corn nor bread can I get none, The country is so deere. Mother then they said anon we will into the country gone To goond men and make our mone If wee may any thing get, So long they went from town to town In the country up and down That they gate in short season A large met of wheat Than anon when they it had unto their mother they it lad And she therof was full glad But long they ne let But at their neighbours house on the morn They borrowed a horse to carry their corn To the mill them before For nothing wolde they let The mylner was ioly in his works all He had a daughter fair and small The clerk of the town loved her above all Iankyn was his name The mylner was so true and feel Of each mannes corn wolde he steal More than his Toledish by a deal He let for no shane He was so subtle and so sly He wolde it take before their eye And make them a proper lie And put himself out of blame▪ To the mylner they were sand In the mill door did he stand They tied their horse with a band They had hard of his name That one clerk to that other swore Of the thief we will beware Haue he never so mykell care Of our corn getteth he bu● small Though he go out of his wit Thou shalt by the spoute sit till the poke fast be knit And the meal in all Though he be never so wo And I will up unto the stones go And he beguile us both two foul might him befall: The corn up the Milner wan And than the clerk fast up ran By the stones still stood he than till it was ground infere The mylners house is nere Not the length of a land In a valley can it stand Two mile from Abyngton In his heart had he care For the clerkes were so ware He might not do as he ●yd are But to his son 'gan ronne Boy look thou let for no dread The clerkes horse home thou lead Also fast as thou may speed Or the meal be done behind my backhouse door him set For they shall fail of their men Tho the poke fast be knet I swear by my crown The little boy stint nought Till the horse was home brought Thereof wist the clerkes nought forsooth as I you say The clerkes their meal up hent And out at the door they went Alas they said we be shent By god than the milner swore Than get you him no mere For some thief was of him ware And hath had him away The one clerk said to the other Go we seek himself brother Thou one way and I another find him if we may, But ever they dread of the meal That the milner wolde therof steal The poke they bound, and set on a seal And their horse than sought they. The mylner laughed them to scorn And great oaths hath he sworn If he might haue none of their corn He wolde haue of their meal, His daughter to the mill can fare And his dinner to him bare And also fast he told hir yare All every deal: How two clerkes in the morn Brought with them a met of corn And ever they warned me before That I should none steal But do now daughter as I thee say Go fet me a sheet I the pray And in faith I will do say To get of the meal For nothing wolde let On a white sheet he it set And much floure he out bet And hole was the seal With two staues in the stour They dange thereon whiles they might doure Till they had a peck of floure forsooth as I you say They gathered it up than anon And put it in a poke full soon And bade his daughter bear it home even the right way Then the clerkes had mykell thought For their horse they sought That they him find might nought▪ Of all that long day And when the night drew nere At the mill they met in fear And both they made a simplo cheer For their goodly hackeny That one clerk said by god of might Me think our poke is waxed light I think it be not all a right That liketh me full ill My heed thereto dare I lay That he hath stolen some away That other clerk said▪ nay nay, The seal standeth on still: They both did to the milner say Herberowe us to night we thee pray And we will therfore well pay What so ever thou will For we dare not to the town gone till we bring our horse hoine If we do by sweet saint John We mon like it ill The mylner said by goddes might I shall barborowe you to night And your supper shall be dight Right well if wee may There they bare their meal between them two And home with the mylner did they go His wife welcomed them tho So did his daughter gay about a fire they were set And good ale was there fet And therwith they their mouths wet And soon souped they At their supper as they made them glad That one clerk nice countenance made And privily on the maidens foot he tread And she turned away when they had eaten and made them glad The Milner his daughter bade soon that a bed were made Also fast as you may, And make it by the side binke That the clerks may therein wink And sleep till it be day: For I will to my bed win And if you here any din It is my man doth come in forsooth as I you say, For he is in the town at his work when he doth come in the hound will bark This ment the milner by the clerk That held his daughter gay By one side the clerk lay By the other side his wife and he I say And for his daughter so gay An other bed was dight, In a chamber as I ween Was a wall them between And a cake she made so clene Thereof the clerks had a sight: Of their own meal it was Hir leman befell such a case hearken sirs howe it was That he might not come that night, For to a faire was there beside On his maisters erande for to ride early in the morrow tide Before any day light. This one clerk still he lay And thought on this Dam●ell gay And to his brother can he say What is me best to do, For by god and by saint Mighell I think so on the damosell I had much lever than I can tell That I might win hir to: His brother said this is nought Of my horse I haue more thought By Iesu that me deere bought Howe we may win him to. Yet lye still brother I the pray For come there what come may At the door I will assay If it will undo, This one clerk to the door can fare She said Iankin be ye there Ye forsooth he did answer And in there did he go, Against a form he hurt his shin Or he might to the bed win Therfore the clerk was wo. Iankin she said for Mary dere why ●o ye make such cheer Your way should you better leere So oft as you come here As that word the clerk loughe And by the voice to her he drough Of her he had his will enough And played them togy●her, when the 〈…〉 ●●d done his will By the damosell he 〈…〉 How two clerks came thither, Vpon the monday at morn And brought with them a met of of corn On a horse them before And both they were full lither. For the one clerk stood at the spoute There as the meal should come out That other went ever about And let us of our pray, My father did see it might be none other He rowned unto my brother And bade it should be none other But lead their horse away. My little brother blinned nought Ere their horse was home brought Like two fools they haue him sought All this long day, As we at our supper sate That one clerk nice countenance made And priuelie on my foot he trade But ever I turned a●aie. Vpon the poke he set the seal For my father should none steal yet we had of their meal And of their whitest floure, For nothing wolde he let On a sheet we it set And with two staues it bet As long as we might doure. And into our backhouse their horse is brought Therof wot the clerkes nought The clerk laughed and made good cheer when he of that might hear That was well done my derling deere, By God my saviour: Both together a sleep they fell, Of the other clerk I will you tell And of the Milners wife howe it befell A while if you will abide, All waking still he lay And in his heart he thought ay My fellow hath a merry play In this even tide. The Mylners wife did rise water to make Stilly for the milner should not wake The right way again could she not take, For the house was so wide. But a child in a cradle lay At the beds feet as I you say Thereby she knew the right way unto hir beds side, The clerk lay and hard ylke deal And of the cradle he wist well And if thou rise by saint michael The cradle shal away: again he rose or she did sleep The clerk thereof took good keep Out of his bed soon he can creep As fast as ever he may, For nothing would he let The cradle away he fet At his beds side he it set, forsooth as I you say, The good wife came anon And till her husband can she gone But cradle found she there none, Shee did seek full fast alway. All about she groped fast The cradle found shee at the last The Milner did sleep full fast And wist not of this work, By the cradle that she there fande, She had went it had been hir husband She life up the clothes with her hand And laid her down by the clerk, Thus that one clerk lay by the wife That other by the daughter by my life Had the milner wist there had ben strife For that nights work, That one clerk waked and he did say That by the Milners daughter lay I must to a faire gone or it be day, And on he did his sarke. Now I pray you my hind leman free A gown cloath then buy you me And I swear so mote I thee, I will pay therefore: By Iesu he said my sweating I haue but three shilling That is but a little thing But if I had more, Thus the clerk he made it towe The damsel her forcer to her draw By God ye shall haue inowe For to pay therefore. The key by the coffer did hang forth she drew thirty shillinge forsooth every farthing And neither less nor more. The thirty shillinge she 'gan him take This made I sir for your sake Take it now with you all, now haue good day mine own swetinge For long or any day doth spring The ●●cke full merely his note will sing And my master will me call Full merry cheer the clerk can make With thirty shillinge and his cake The right way can he take down by the wall, Till he came at his brothers bed Than from the cradle away he yedde And anon away he fled On the further side of the hall: Of his silver he took good keep down by the milner can he creep And wakened him out of his sleep And said wilt thou hear a good game, For I haue had a merry night With the milners daughter bright me liketh well by gods might That we wende not home, For I haue thirty shillinge and a cake That the false thief fro our corn did take With that the milner did wake By god and by saint john, And also she hath me told Howe he hath our horse in hold In his backhouse he hath him bold I pray god give him shane The milner start up readily Thou liest he said with great envy And that shalt thou full dere aby thief what hast thou done, He start up in a great thirteen And stout stroke was them between The milner was the more keen And gate the clerk down. His wife waked anon right Out sir she said the clerkes do fight The one will slay the other to night But if you parte them soon▪ The clerk wakened and had great wonder But he durst them not sunder Full well he saw his fellow under By the light of the moon. The milners wife hent a staff tite Sir she said who shall I smite Dame said the clerk, him in the white Hit him if thou may, The milner befell a foul hap He had on his night cap His wife lent him such a rap That stil on ground he lay. Thus the milners heed was broken The backhouse fast was broken Beleeue me the clerks braste it open And in than went ●hey, The meal on the horse they cast And away they hied them fast With all their things home they paste Long or any day. Forth they went by M●●ne light, To Abington they came right Before it was day light Home unto their Dame, Than was her heartfull light when she saw her son in sight She thanked God with all her might That they were comen home, All their meal and thirty shilling They gave their mother without leasing And sense they told her of that thing They let for no blame, Their mother said if ye do right keep ye well out of his sight For if he may get you by goddes might He will do you shaine. Of that silver the clerks were fain The one clerk hied with all his main And led their horse home again upon the same morn, The mother them a Lapon slay And of the cake they eat inowe And soon to Cambridge they drew, There as they were before. ●wentie shilling with them they bare un●o the school 'gan they fare The Mylner gate of them no mere, If he had it sworn. when they were gone these scholars both I tell you plain this milner was loath And to his bed again he gothe For he was full of pain, His wife before had given him Vengeable stripes by sweet saint Sim She had almost broken both lithe and limb Of the Milner I tell you plain. And so the milner and his wife For this foolish deed they had great strife All the daies of their life That he had ben so mad, And the daughter that was young Did often sing a sorry song And wished for the clerk that was so long With her gown cloth to make her gl●●. And also for his merry play She longed for him full sore in fay That he should come again that way Though she should never the cloth see, The wench she was full proper and nice among all other she bare great price For she could trick it point device But few like her in that country. At the last the milner vn●rewe That had ben beaten both black and blewe His own deed he 'gan to rue And though he had ben false, For many a trewer thank Was judged without pity Vpon a dreadful gallowe three To be hanged by the halse But sore sick in his bed All his life he led That he was fain to be fed Of his wife without mis Thus with short conclusion This milner through his abusion Was brought to confusion For all his falsehood iwis And ended his life full wretchedly In pain, care, and misery wherefore he did bear an horn For steeling of meal this only His wife and his daughter were lain by Of two poor scholars full merely That oft did laugh him to scorn In patience he must take it al In chamber, in bower, and eke in hall What so ever the folk than did him call Contented must he be: Thus endeth this merry iest iwis And Christ that is king of eternal blis bring us all there when his will is, Amen for charity. FINIS. ❧ A merry gest, howe a sergeant would learn to be a Friar. WIse men alway, affirm and say, the best is for each man. Diligently, for to apply, such business as he can, And in no wise, to enterprise, another faculty: For he that will, and can no skill, is never like to thee. He that hath left, the hosiers craft, and fall to making shone. The smith that shall, to painting fall, his thrifte is well nigh done. A black draper, with white paper, to go to writing school. An old butteler, become a cutteler, I ween shall prove a fool. An old trot, that can( God wot,) nothing but kis the cup. With hir physic, will keep one sick, till she haue soused him up. A man of lawe, that never saw, the ways to buy and sell. Weninge to arise, by merchandise, I pray God speed him well. A merchant eke; that will go seek, all the means he may. To fall in suit, till he dispute, his money clean away. Pleading the lawe, for every straw, shall prove a thrifty man. With bait and strife, but by my life, I can not tell you when when an hatter, will go smatter, in philosophy. Or a pedlar, wax a medlar, in theologye. All that ensue, such crafts new, they drive so far a cast. That evermore, they do therefore, beshrew wolf at last. This thing was tried, and verified, here by a sergeant late. That ruefully was, or he could pas, rapped about the pa●e. While that he would, see how he could, in Gods name play the friat. Now if ye will, know how it fyl, take heed and ye shall hear. It happened so, not long ago, a thrifty man there dide. An hundred pound of nobles round, 〈◇〉 had he laid a side. His 〈…〉 he would, should haue this gold so▪ to begin withall. But to suffice, his child well thryues, 〈…〉 y were to small. yet o● this day, I haue herde say, that many a man certesse, Hath with good cast, be rich at the last, that begun with less. But this young man, so well he can, his money to imp 〈…〉 That certainly, his 〈…〉, to see it was a ioy 〈…〉▪ For least some blast might overcast, his ship or by mischance. Men with some wyle, might him beguile, and minish his substance. For to put out, al maner doubt, he made a good puruaie. For every whit, by his own wit, and took another way. First faire and wele, a pretty deal, he hid it in a pot. But than him thought, that way was nought and there he left it not. So was he fain, from thence again, to put it in a cup. And by and by, as couetouslie, he supped it faire up. In his own breast▪ he thought it best, his money to enclose, Then wist he well, what ever fell, he could it never lose. He borrowed than, of another man, money and merchandise: never paid it, up he laid it, in like maner wise. Yet on the gear, that he would wear, he taught not what he spent: So it were nice, as for the price. could him not myscontent. With lusty sport, and with resort, of ioly company. In mirth and play, 〈…〉 a day, he lived merrily. And men had sworn, some man is born, to dignity and power. And so was he, for such degree▪ he gate and such honowre, That without doubt, when he went out, a sergeant well and faire. Was ready strait, on him to weight, as sone as on the maire, But he doubtless, of his meekness, hated such pomp and pride. And would not go, accompanied so, but drew himself aside. To saint Katherine, strait as a line, he gate him at a tide For promotion, or devotion, there would he needs bide. There spent he fast, till all was past▪ and to him came there many. To ask their debt, but none could get, the valour of a penny. With visage stout, he bare it out, unto the hard hedge, A month or twain till he was fain, to lay his gown to pledge. Than was he there, in greater fear, than or that he came thither. And would as fain, depart again, but that he wist not whither. Than after this, to a friend of his. he went and ther● 〈…〉. Where as he lay, 〈…〉 ●lwaie, he might not come 〈…〉 e. It happened than, a merchant man that he ought money to, Of an officer, that 'gan inquire, what him was best to do. And he aunswerd, be not a feared, take an action therfore, I you behest, I shall him rest, and than care for no more. I fear quod he, it will not be, for he will not come out. The sergeant said, be not afraid, it shall be brought about, In many a game, like to the same, haue I been well in ure, And for your sake, let me be bake, but if I do this cure. Thus parte they both, and to him goth, a place this officer, And for a day, all his araie, he changed with a friar. So was he dight, that no man might, him for a friar deny. He dopped and douked, he spake and looked, so religiously. Yet in a glass, or he would pass, he toted and he poured. His heart for pride, lept in his side, to see howe well he fryred. Then forth a place, unto the place, he goeth in Gods 〈◇〉▪ To do this deed, 〈…〉 take heed, for here beginneth 〈…〉 gain. He drew him nigh, and then softly, at the door he knocked. A damsel, that heard him well, there came and it unlocked. The friar said, God speed fair maid, here lodgeth such a man: It is told me, well sir quoth she, and if he do? what than? Quod he, mistress, no harm doubtless, it longeth for our order. To hurt no man, but as we can, every wight to forder. With him truly, fain speak would I, sir quod she, by my faye: He is so sick, ye be not like, to speak with him to day. Quoth he fair may, yet I you pray, thus much at my desire: Vouchsafe to do, as go him too, and say an Austen friar, would with him speak, & matters break, for his avail certain. Quod shee I will, stand ye here still, till I come down again. up is shee go, and told him so: as shee was bided to say. He mistrustinge, no maner thing, said maiden go thy way. And fetch him hither, that we to gether: may talk a down she goth, And up him brought, no harm she thought, but it made some folk wrath. But this officer, this feigned friar, when he was come a loft, He dopped than, and greet this man, religiously and oft. And he again, right glad and fain, took him thereby the hand: The friere than said, ye be dismayed▪ with trouble I understand. In deed quod he, it hath with me, been better than it is. Sir quod the friar, bee of good cheer, ye shall yet after this. For christes sake, look that ye take, no thought into your breast, God may turn all, and so he shall, I trust unto the best. But I would now, common with you, in counsel if you please, Or elles not, of matters that, shall set your heart at ease. down went the maid the merchant said now say on gentill friar, Of this tidinge, that ye me bring, I long full sore to hear. when there was none, but they alone, the friar with evil grace▪ Said I rest thee, come on with me, and out he took his mace: Thou shalt obey, come on thy way, I haue thee in my clouche▪ Thou goest not hence, for all the pence, the mayor hath in his pouche. This merchant there, for wrath and fear. waringe well nigh wood: said horeson the●e, with a very mischief, who hath taught thee thy good? And with his fist, vpon the list. he gave him such a blow, That backward down, almost in swoon, the friar is overthrow. Yet was this man, well fearder than, lest he the friar had slain: Till with good rappes, and heavy clappes, he dawed him up again. The friar took heart, and up he start, and well he laid about, And so there gothe, between them both, many a lusty clout. They rent and tere, each other heer, and claue together fast: Till with lugginge, halinge and tugginge, they fell down both at last. Than on the ground, to gether round, with many a heavy stroke. They roll and romble, they turn and tumble, like lieges do in a poke. So long above, they heave and shoue, together that at the last, The maid and the wife, to break the strife, hied them upward fast. And when they see, the captaines lie, waltringe in the place, The friers hood, they pulled a good, a down about his face. While he was blind, the wench behind, lent him on the floor. Many a iole, about the noll, with a great battill door. The wife came to it, and with her feet▪ she holp to keep him down: And with her rock, many a knock, she gave him on the crown. They laid his mace, about his face, that he was wode for pain, The friar frap, gate many a swap, till he was well nigh slain. up they him lift, and with evil thrifte, headlong all the stair: down they him threw, and said a dew▪ recommend us to the mayor. The friar arose, but I suppose, amazed was his head: He shoke his heres, and from great tears▪ he thought him well a fled. Quod he now lost is all this cost, we be never the nere: Ill mot he thee, that caused me, to make myself a friar. now maisters all, an end I shall, make there as I began. In any wise, I wolde auyse, and council every man. His own craft use, all new refuse, and utterly let them gone. play not the friar, now make good cheer, and welcome everichone. FINIS.