THE FIRST PART OF THE Pleasant and Princely HISTORY OF THE GENTLE-CRAFT. A DISCOURSE Containing many matters of Delight: Very Pleasant to red. showing What Famous Men have been counsellors in time past in this Land, with their Worthy Deeds, and great Hospitality. Set forth with Pictures, and Variety of Wit and Mirth. Declaring the cause why it is called the GENTLE-CRAFT: And also how the PROVERB first grew: A counsellors Son is a Prince Born. T. D.  

With gentleness judge you,  
At nothing here grudge you,  
The merry counsellors delight in good sport:  
What here is presented,  
Be therewith contented,  
And as you do like it, so give your Report.   Haud curo invidiam. 
LONDON, Printed by T. M. for William Thackery in Duck-Lane, near West-Smith-field, 1678.   

 depiction of saints Crispinian and Crispin 
Crispianus  
Crispin   

Honour and many Victories, do Crown,  
The Name of Crispianus with Renown:  
Whilst crispin a new Conqueror doth prove,  
And wins at home a Royal LADIES Love.    

The History of the GENTLE-CRAFT  
 depiction of lady attended by young shoemaker  

A Gentle Craft that hath the Art,  
To steal soon into a LADIES Heart;  
Here you may see, what Youth and Love can do,  
The Crown doth stoop to th'Maker of a shoe.    

To all the good YEOMEN OF THE Gentle-Craft.  

YOU that the Gentle Craft profess,  
List to my Words both more and less,  
And I shall tell you many things  
Of worthy and renowned Kings:  
And divers Lords and Knights also,  
That were shoemakers long ago:  
Some of them in their distress,  
Delighted in this business:  
And some for whom great wait was laid  
Did save their lives by this same Trade:  
Other some, in sport and game,  
Delighted much to learn the same:  
No other Trade in all the Land,  
They thought so fit unto their hand;  
For evermore they still did find,  
That shoemakers bore a gallant mind:  
Men they were of high conceit,  
The which wrought many a merry feat:  
Stout of Courage were they still,  
And in their Weapons had great skill:  
Travellers by Sea and Land,  
Each Countryguise to understand.  
Wrong they wrought not any man,  
With reason all things did they scan;  
Good houses kept they evermore,  
Relieving both the Sick and Poor.  
in Law no money would they spend,  
Their quarrels friendly would they end.  
No malice did they bear to any,  
But shew'd great favour unto many,  
Offences they would soon forgive,  
They would not in contention live,  
Thus in joy they spent their days,  
With pleasant Songs and Roundelais;  
And God did bless them with content,  
Sufficient for them he sent;  
And never yet did any know,  
A shoemaker a begging go:  
Kind are they one to another,  
Using each stranger as his Brother.  
Thus lived shoemakers of Old,  
As ancient Writers have it  told;  
And thus shoemakers still would be,  
So famed from them shall never flee.    

The Old counsellors Advice to his Son, Being the downfall of ALEWIVES.  

YOung Man, that now art in thy prime, beware of Drunkenness,  
Thy Father hath misspent his time in that same fowl Excess:  
Which made me for to writ to thee, the Ale-house to refrain,  
Because it hath quiter ruined me, spending my time in vain.   

A walnut is a pleasant Fruit, and hath a bitter Skin,  
If with the Ale-wife thou dispute, she'l make thy purse but thin:  
Thy money must maintain her Pride, and by her Cobweb-Lawn,  
Whilst thou for Bear and Ale beside, dost lay thy Cloak to pawn.   

Good Counclishe will seem to give, but if thou stay away,  
This woman knows not how to live, her Trade will soon decay.  
Thou work'st for her both Day and Night, and all to pay thy score:  
She loves to see thee in her sight, and all to keep thee poor.   

She●'l make a very Rogue of thee i● thou by her be ruled,  
Ha●'st thou not better to go free, than be by her thus fooled.  
When thou goest home to wig to wag, praising thy own good carriage,  
Thy clothes no better than a Rag, O this will spoil thy Marriage   

She evermore will thee persuade never to take a Wife,  
For why she thinks 'twill spoil her Trade, and be the cause of strife:  
If thou be ne'er so much in hast, shee'l cause thee for to stay,  
The Cubbard then must be unca●'d, tush, what will you away?   

She'l bring a piece of powdered beef, or a Virginy Trout,  
O shee's a very loving thief, shee'l find thy money out.  
Her lettuce shows as thou mayst see, she sells both Ale and Beer,  
But O beware, be ruled by me, buy not her ware too dear.   

For she will hold some folks in talk, both jeffery, james and John,  
Then with a double forked chalk, shee'l score two pots for one:  
I'll tell you of a story good, ye Drunkards men your lives:  
If it be rightly understood, you you'l never love ale Wives.   

Two Drunkards loved each other well, and both lived in one house,  
The thing is true which I will tell, the best not worth a louse:  
One of them died, and left his Cloak and suit unto the other:  
They spent their coin in drink and smoke, and ruined each other,   

But mark the Ale-wives cruelty, she claimed all for her own;  
Because the man that then did die, was in her debt, 'twas known.  
Then have a care my honest Lad, if thou die ne'er so poor,  
If any thing be to be had, 'tis that must pay thy score.   

O then live but a civil life, and scrape this Dragon fell,  
Thou mayst prevent much drunken strife, and then thou shalt do well.  
crispin and Crispianus stout, were proper men and tall:  
But if thou beat this Dragon out, thou dost more than them all.   

For he that can himself subdue, and bridle his own will,  
O he doth more than if he slay, and did ten Dragons kill.  
Gentlemen of the Gentle-Craft, I wish so well to all,  
Although you drink your mornings draft, let none procure your fall:    

To all Courteous Readers, Health.  
HOw St. Hugh was Son unto the Renowned King of Powis, a Noble britain born, who in the prime of his Years, loved the fair Virgin Winifred: who was the only Daughter of Donwallo: which was the last King that Reigned in Tegina, which is now called Flintshire: But she refusing all offers of Love, was only pleased with a Religious life. Her Father was sent to Rome, and dyed, whose Lady left her life long before. This Virgin therefore, forsook her Fathers Princely palace in Pant Varre, and made her whole abiding in the most sweet and pleasant Valley of Sichnaunt, and lived there solitarily, and careless of all company or comfort: It chanced that in summers heat, this fair Virgin being distressed for want of drink, and not knowing where to get any, there sprung up suddenly a Crystal stream of most pleasant water out of the hard ground, whereof this Virgin did daily drink; unto the which God himself gave so great a virtue, that many people having been washed therein, were healed of divers and sundry infirmities, wherewith they were born. Moreover, round about this Well where this Virgin did use to walk, did grow a kind of Moss, which is of a most sweet savour, and the colour thereof is as fresh in Winter as in Summer, so that lying thereon you would suppose yourself to be on a bed of Down, perfumed with most precious Odours. And what of all this? mary, red this Book and you shall know: but red nothing except you red all. And why so? Because the beginning shows not the middle, and the middle shows not the latter end.  
And so farewell.   


The Pleasant History of Sir Hugh, and first of all his constant Love to the fair Virgin Winifred.  
 
COnquering and most imperious Love, having seized on the heart of young Sir Hugh; all his wits were set on work, how to compass the Love of the fair Virgin Winifred, whose disdain was the chief cause of his care, having received many infinite sorrows for her sake. But as a stream of water being stopped, over-floweth the bank; so smothered desire doth burst out into a great flamme of fire, which made the malcontented lover to seek some means to appease the strife of his contentious thoughts, whereupon he began to encourage himself: Tush Hugh, let not a few froward words of a Women dismay thee, for they love to be entreated, and delight to be Wooed, though they would make the world believe otherwise, for their denials proceed more of niceness than niggardliness, refusing that they would feignest have. What if sometimes Winifred frown on thee, yet her favour may exceed her frowardness. The Sun is sometimes overcast with Clouds, so that her brightness is not seen: In wars, the sorer the fight is, the greater is the glory of the victory; and the harder a woman is to be won, the sweeter is her love when it is obtained: Wherefore I'll once again try my fortune, and see what success my svit shall find: On this resolution Sir Hugh returned to Winifred, greeting her thus:  
Now fair Lady, having slept away the Remembrance of your sharp answers, I come again in a new conceit to renew an old svit, and to see if the change of the day will yield a change of dolours. Truly Sir Hugh( qd she) if with the change of the day you have changed your opinion, your dolour will be driven away well enough: but as touching your svit, it shall be needless to repeat it, because I am not willing to prefer it. Stay there( qd Sir Hugh) I will prefer it; so that you will accept it. Now. qd she, I will accept it, if you will prefer it, in sending it back to the place from whence it did proceed; and I would to God, I could sand you away as soon as your svit. Why then be like I am not welcome, said Sir Hugh: Yes, qd she, as welcome to meas a storm to a distressed mariner: I muse greatly that reason will not rule you, nor words win you from your wilfulness; if you were as weary to wooe, as I am weary to hear you, I am persuaded that long since you would have ceased your vain svit: You think by these persuasions to turn my opinion; but as well you may think that you may quench fire with oil; therefore I pray you good Sir Hugh, be not so tedious to me, nor troublesone to yourself.  
Come, come, quoth he, all this will not serve your turn: ponder with thyself Winifred, that thou art fair, O that thou wert as favourable: thy beauty hath bound me to be thy servant, and never cease till I see another obtain thee, or myself be possessed of my hearts content: Thou art a Kings daughter, and I a Princes Son; slain not the glory of true Nobility with the foul sin of obstinacy, but be thou as kind as thou art courtly, and gentle as thou art noble, and then shall our strife soon end.  
Winifred perceiving that the farther off she was to grant love, the more eager he was to desire it, shifted him off thus: Sir, although your over-hastiness drive me into the greatest doubtfulness, yet let me entreat you, if you love me, to give me one months respite to consider on this matter, and it may be, that upon my better deliberation, it shall be pleasing unto you, and not at all discontenting me.  
Fair love, quoth he, far be it from my heart to deny so kind a request, I am content to stay a month from thy sight, were i● two or three, upon condition that thou wouldst then grant me thy good will; three months, although it be very long, yet it will come at last, and I could be content for that time to be dead for thy sake, insomuch, that my life might be renewed by thy love.  
Nay( qd Winifred) stay three months and stay for ever: By this a Maid may see how ready men are upon a light occasion to take long days, whose loves are like a Fern-bush, soon set on fire, and soon consumed; and seeing it is so, in faith Sir Hugh, I do mean to try you before I trust you.  
Pardon me fair Winifred, said Sir Hugh, if my tongue doth out-stip my wit, in truth I spake but to please thee, though to displease myself: but I pray thee, let it not be three hours, nor three quarters of an hour, if thou wilt.  
Nay, nay( quoth she) your first words shall stand; after three months come to me again, and then you shall know my mind to the full, and so good Sir Hugh be gone: but if I do ever hear from thee, or see thee betwixt this time and the time prefixed. I will for ever hereafter blot out thy name out of my book of remembrance, and never yield thee that courtesy, which thou at this time so earnestly intreatest for.  
Sir Hugh upon these words departed betwixt hope and dread, much like a man committing a trespass, that stays for the sentence of Life and Death.  
O unhappy man, quoth he, how hath my over-slippery tongue lengthened the time of my sorrow? she of her self most courteously requested of me but one months stay, and I most willingly and undiscreetly added thereto eight weeks more of misery. Much like the Hand, that having a knife given him to pare his Nails, did therewith murder himself. Now I could wish that the Sun had Eagles wings, swiftly to fly through the fair Firmament, and finish six days in one days time. With that he began to count the days and hours that were in three months, falling( in a manner) to a despair with himself when he found them so many in number: and therewith melancholy and sadly, he went to his Fathers house, where his Brother Griffith found by his countenance the perfect map of a pensive Lover: whereupon he said unto him:  
Why, how now Brother? hath fair Winifreds beauty so greatly wounded you, as you cannot speak a merry word to your friend, but sit in a corner as if you were tonguelesse like a stock? Tush brother, women are like shadows, for the more a man follows them, the faster they run away; but let a man turn his course, and then they will presently follow him. What man, pluck up a good heart, for there are more women now, than lived in the time of old Father Adam.  
O, said Hugh, were there ten thousand times more than there are now, what were that to me, if Winifred be unkind? Yet is she the oil that still maintains the lamp of my light, and without her there is nothing comfortable to my sight.  
Then( replied Griffith) you are as much troubled in love, as a Goat in an Ague, and as blind as a fly in October, that will stand still while a man cuts off his head; Come, go a hunting with me, that will drive away your over-fond conceits, and you shall see that these three months will come upon you, as a quarter-day upon a poor man, that hath never a penny ready towards the payment of his Rent.   

CHAP. II. How beautiful Winifred, being over much superstitious, forsook her Fathers wealth, and lived poorly by a springing fountain, from whence no man could get her to go; which Spring to this day is called Winifreds well.  
 
WInifred, who had but of late years, with her own father, received the Christian Faith, because so superstitious, that she thought the wealth of the world for ever would have been an heavy burden for her soul, and have drawn her mind from the love of her Master; wherefore, forsaking all manner of earthly pomp, she lived a long time very poorly, hard by the side of a most pleasant springing Well: from which place neither her friends by entreaty, nor her foes by violence could bring her: which Sir Hugh hearing, he went thither immediately after unto her, which was the time limited by them both, and finding her mind altogether altered, he wondered not a little what she meant. And when he approached near unto the place where she sat suited in simplo attire, he saluted her with these words.  
All health to fair Winifred; I trust my dear, that now the Destinies have yielded a convenient opportunity for me to finish my long begun svit, with the end of my former sorrows. Long and tedious hath the winter of my woes been, which with nipping care hath blasted the beauty of my youthful delight, which is like never again to flourish, except the bright Sun-shine of thy favour do renew the same: therefore fair love remember thy promise made unto me, and put me no mor off with pleasing delays.  
She( which all this while set solemnly reading in her Book) lent little ear unto his words, which he perceiving, plucked her by the arm, saying: Wherefore answereth not my fair Love, to her dearest perplexed friend?  
What would you have( quoth she) can I never be at quiet for you? Is there no corner of content in this world to be found?  
Yes Winifred, said he, content dwells here, or no where: content me, and I will content thee, if my content may be thy content: Then red this book, and there rest content, said Winifred: and if thou refusest this, then think not to find content on earth.  
Sir Hugh replied: What is this all the reward I shall have, for obeying your heart-cutting commands? have I thus long hoped, and find no better hap? You wot well that it is now three long months since these eyes took comfort of thy beauty, and since that time my bleeding heart hath received joy in thy gentleness.  
I have forgotten you quiter, said she; What three months is that you speak of? for my part I assure you, that it is as far out of my mind, as you are from the Mount of Calvary.  
Fair Winifred( said he) have you forgotten me and therewith my love, which I so effectually grounded upon your good liking? You  told me that now I should rereceive an answer to my content.  
O Sir( quoth she) you have stayed over-long, and your words are in my hearing as unprofitable as snow in Harvest, my love is fled to Heaven, from whence no earthly man can fet●… it, and therefore build not on vain hope, nor do thou deceive thyself by following any unprofitable svit; if ever I love earthly man it shall be thee, insomuch as thou hast deserved an earthly Ladies love; but my love is settled for ever, both in this world, and in the world to come, and this I most earnestly entreat thee to take for a final answer.  
With that Sir Hugh turning his head aside, wept most bitterly, and in going away he glanced his eye back again after his Love, saying to himself: O unconstant Women, wavering and uncertain, how many sorrows are fond men drawn unto by your wily enticements? who are also swallowed up in the gaping gulf of care, while they listen after the heart-liking sound of your enchanting voices. O Winifred, full little did I think that so hard a heart could have been shrouded under so sweet and loving a countenance; But seeing that my good will is thus unkindly requited, I will altogether abhor the sight of Women, and I will seek the world throughout, but I will find some blessed plot, where no such kind of corrupt cattle breed.  
Hereupon all in a hot and hasty humour, he made preparation for to go beyond the seas, suiting himself after the nature of a melancholy man, and arriving in France, he took his journey towards Paris, which City( at that time) was well replenished with many goodly fair women, as well as britain, though to his thinking nothing so lovely; but nevertheless what they wanted in beauty, they had in bravery: which when Sir Hugh saw, he suddenly departed from that place, counting it the most pernicious place in the whole country: and from thence he went into Italy, where he found such stately Dames and lovely Ladies, Whom nature had adorned with all perfection of outward beauty; whose sight put him again in remembrancee of his fair Love, which like fresh fuel newly augmented the flames of his burning desire: Oh!( said he) how unhappy am I to be haunted by these heart-tormenting fiends, bewitching the eyes of simplo men with Angel-like faces, and like enchanting Circes, bringing them to a Labyrinth of continual Woes.  
O Winifred, thy peevishness hath bread my dangers, and done thyself no good at all. Thou sittest weeping by a Crystal stream, where is no need of water, while I wander up and down, seeking to forget thee; thou never remembrest me, having drawn the Fountain of mine eyes dry, through thy discourteous disdain. Might I never see any of thy Sex, my heart would be more at quiet; but every place where I come puts me in mind of thy perfections, and therewith renews my pain: but I will from hence as soon as possible I can, though not so soon as I would, for fear lest these sweet Serpents should sting me to death with delight.  
Hereupon he passed on so far, that at length he came to a City situated in the sea, and compassed with the wild Ocean. Here( quoth Sir Hugh) is a fit place for melancholy men, where it is supposed that no women do live, insomuch that their delicate bodies cannot endure the salt savour of the mounting waves: If it be so, there will I make my residence, counting it the most blessed place under heaven: but he was no sooner set on the land, but he beholded whole troops of lovely Ladies, passing up and down in most sumptuous attire, framing their gestures answerable to their beauties and comely personages.  
Nay, now I see( quoth Sir Hugh) that the whole world is infected with these deceiving Syrens, and therefore in vain it is for me to seek for that I shall never find; and there withal sought for some house wherein he might hid himself from them. But by that time he was set at supper, comes a crew of Court-like Dames richly attired, and with wanton eyes and pleasing speech, they boldly sat down by him; and perceiving him to be a stranger, they were not strange to 'allure him to their delight: wherefore while he sat at meat, they yielded him such mirth as their best skill could afford, and stretched their nimble fingers, playing on their sweet sounding instruments, they sang this ensuing Song, with such clear and quavering voices, as had been sufficient to 'allure the chast hearted Xenocrates unto folly: and still as they did sing Sir Hugh answered in the last line: insomuch as it seemed to be a Dialogue between them: And in this manner following the women began their Song.  

The Curtizens Song of Venice.  

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

Ladies. Within my lap lay down thy comely head,  
and let me stroke those golden locks of thine,  
Look on the tears that for thy sake I  shed,  
and be thou Lord of any thing is mine;  
One gentle look upon thy Love bestow,  
Hugh. Oh! that fair Winifred would once say so.   

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

Ladies. Give me those Pearls as pledges of thy Love,  
and with those Pearls the favour of thy Heart,  
Do not from me thy sugared breath remove,  
That double comfort gives to every part:  
Nay stay Sir Knight, from hence thou shalt not go;  
Hugh. Oh! that fair Winifred would once say so,    
When Sir Hugh had heard this Song, and therewith noted their wanton gestures, he began to grow suspicious of their proffers, and thinking in himself, that either they thought his destruction, as the Syrens did to Ulysses, or that they intended to make a prey of his purse, as Lais did of her Lovers: and therefore supposing some Adder to lie lurking under the fair flowers of their proffered pleasures, he determined the next morning after( with speed) to depart from the City. So when he had with good discretion avoided their company, while he lay tormented with restless thoughts on his still tossed bed, began thus to meditate.  
Now well I see mine own vanity, that is as ill pleased with womens favour as their frowns: how often have I with heart sighing sorrow, complained of womens unkindness, making large invectives against their discourtesies? and yet here where I find women as kind as they are fair, and courteous as they are comely, I run into a world of doubts, and am so supicious of their fair proffers, as I was earnest to win Winifreds favour. It may be( quoth he) that it is the nature of this gentle soil to breed as kind creatures, as the Country of britain breeds coy Dames.  
Undoubtedly, had my Love first taken life in this kind and courteous Climate, she would have been as kind as they, if I mis-judge not of their gentleness, because I have always been turned to scornfulness, methinks they are too fair to he Harlots, and too bold to be honest: but as they have no cause to hate me that never hurt them, so have they little cause to love me, being a far stranger born; to them a man altogether unknown, but it may be that this time of the year is only unfortunate for Lovers; as it is certainly known unto all men, that every season of the year breeds a sundry commodity, for Roses flourish in june, and Gilliflowers in August, neither of them both doth so in the could winter. Such as seek for fruit on sapless trees, in the Month of january, lose their labour as well as their longing: then why should I covet to gather Fruits of love, when I see that love is not yet ripe? Now let me observe the season that yields the sweetest comfort to love-sick persons, and so I may reap the joyful Fruits of hearts content; I will therefore return to my former love, hoping now to find her as friendly, as at my departure she was froward: I will once again entreat her, and speak her exceeding fair: for with many drops the hardest ston is pierced; so also with many importunate entreaties, a flinty heart may be moved to some remorse. I take no pleasure at all in any place, but only in her presence, with the which she continually graceth a running stream: far be it from her mind to kiss her own shadow in the Crystal Spring, and to be in love with her own similitude, for so she might be spoiled as Narcisus was; for it is commonly seen that sudden dangers follow fond opinions.  
So with these, and the like thoughts he driven out the night, till the Suns bright eye began to péep in at his Chamber window, at which time, dressing himself. he went to the water side, where he found a ship ready to transport rich merchandise to the Western Islands, in the which Sir Hugh became a Passenger. But when they were put off to Sea, there arose so sudden a storm, and of a long continuance, that no man looked for life, but expected every moment present death, so that the mariners quiter forsook the Tackle, and the Master the Helm, committing themselves to God, and their Ship to the mercy of the swelling Seas, by whose furious waves they were sometimes tossed up towards heaven, anon thrown down to the deep of hell: in which extremity Sir Hugh made this lamentation.  
O unhappy man, how eagerly doth mischance pursue me at my heels; for betwixt my Love on the Land, and danger of life on the Sea, it hath made me the wretchedest man breathing on earth.  
Here we may see that miseries have power over men, and not men over miseries: Now must I die far from my friends, and be drenched in the deep, where my body must feed the fishes that swim in the rich bottom of the Sea: therefore fair Winifred, the chief ground of my griefs, here will I Sacrifice my last tears unto thee, and pour forth my complaints.  
O how happy should I count myself, if those fishes which shall live on my bodies food, might be meat for my love! It grieveth me much to think that my poor bleeding heart, wherein thy picture is engraven, should be rent in pieces in such grievous sort: but thrice accursed be that fish that first setteth his nimble teeth thereon, except he swim therewith unto my Love, and so deliver it as a present token from me.  
Had my troubled Stars allotted me to leave my life in the pleasant valley of Sichnant, then no doubt but my Love with her fair hands would have closed up my dying eyes, and perhaps would have rung a peal of sorrowful sighs for my sake.  
By this time was the weather beaten Bark driven by the shore of sicily, where the men had safety of their lives, although with loss of their Ship, & spoil of their goods, but they had no sooner shaken off their dropping wet garments on the shore, but that they were assaulted by a sort of monstrous men, that had but one eye a piece, and that placed in the midst of their fore-heads: with whom the tempest-beaten Souldiers had a fierce fight, in which many of them were slain, and divers of them fled away, to save themselves: so that in the end Sir, Hugh was left alone to fortune in a double fray: and having at last quiter overcome all his adversaries, he went his way, and was so far entred into a dark Wilderness, that he could not device with himself which way he should take to get out, where he was so cruelly affrighted with the dreadful cry of fierce lions and Bears, and wild Bulls and so many thousands more of other dangerous and cruel ravenous Beasts, which with greedy mouths ranged about for their prey, in which distress Sir Hugh got him up into three, and being there broke out into these passions.  
O Lord( quoth he) hast thou preserved me from the great peril and danger of the Sea, and delivered me out of the hand of cruel monstrous men, and now sufferest thou me to be devoured of wild Beasts? Alas, that my foul sins should bring so many sundry sorrows on my head; but for all this may I thank unkind Winifred, whose disdain hath wrought my destruction. Wo worth the time that ever I beholded her betwitching beauty. But hereby we may see that the path is clear that leadeth to danger. But why blame I the blameless Lady? Alas, full little did she know of my desperate courses in travail; but such is the fury that haunts frantic Lovers, that never fear danger until it fall and light upon their own heads.  
But by that time the day began to appear, he perceived a huge Elephant with stiff joints walking towards him, and presently after came a fiery tongued Dragon, which suddenly assaulted this peaceful Elephant, in whose subtle encounter, the wrathful Dragon with his long wrinkling tail, did so shackle the hinder feet of the Elephant together, that like a Prisoner fast fettered in irons, he could not stir a foot for his life: at which time the furious Dragon never left till he had thrust his slender head into the Elephants long hooked nose, out of which he never drew it, until by sucking the Elephants blood, he had made him so feeble and so weak, that he could stand no longer upon his feet: at which time, the fainting Elephant with a grievous cry, fell down dead upon the Dragon; so with the fall of his weighty body burst the Dragon in pieces, and so killed him; whereby their bloods being mixed together, it stained all the ground where they both lay, changing the green grass into a rich scarlet colour. This strange fight betwixt these two Beasts, caused good Sir Hugh to judge that nature had planted betwixt them a deadly hatred, the fire whereof could not be quenched, but by shedding of both their hearts blood. Now when Sir Hugh saw that grim death had ended their quarrel, and perceiving no danger near, he came down from the three, and sought to find out some inhabited town: but being entangled in the underwoods, like the Centaur in his Labyrinth, he could by no means get out, but wandered in unknown passages, leading him to many perils.  
At last another Elephant met him, who according to his kind nature never left him till he had conducted him out of all danger, and brought him out of the Wilderness into the way again, whereby Sir Hguh at the length came in sight of a Port-Town, where in four days after he embarked himself in a Ship bound for britain, and at last obtained the sight of his Native country, where he arrived in safety, though in a very poor sort, coming on shore at a place called Harwich, where for want of money he greatly lamented, and made much moan. But meeting with a merry journeyman shoemaker dwelling in that Town, and after some conference had together, they both agreed to travail in the country, where we will leave them, and speak of Winifred, and of her great troubles and calamities.   

CHAP. III. How fair Winifred was imprisoned and condemned to die for her Religion; and how Sir Hugh became a shoemaker, and afterwards came to suffer death with his Love; showing also how the shoemakers tools came to be called St. Hugh's Bones; and the trade of Shoomaking the Gentle-Craft.  
 
ANon atfer the Doctrine of Christ was made known in britain, & that the worship of Heathen Idols was forbidden, yet many troubles did the Christians endure by the outrageous blood-thirstiness of divers wolfish Tyrants, that by the way of invasion set footing in this Land, as it fell out in the days of Dioclesian, that with bloody minds persecuted such as would not yield to the Pagan Law, among which the Virgin Winifred was one, who for that she continued constant in the faith, was long imprisoned. During which time, Sir Hugh wrought in a Shoomakers-shop having learned that trade through the courteous directions of a kind journeyman, where be remained the space of one whole year, in which time he had gotten himself good apparel, and every thing comely and decent. Notwithstanding, though he were now contented to forget his birth, yet could not be forget the beauty of his Love: who although he had utterly forsaken her, yet could he not alter his affections from her, because indeed affections alter not, like a pale-faced Coward. The wildest Bull( quoth he) is tamed, being tied to a Fig-tree, and the coyest Dame( in time) may yield, like Wax. Though Roses have prickles, yet they are gathered; and though Women seem froward, yet they will show themselves kind and friendly. Neither is there any Wax so hard, but by often tempering, is made apt to receive an impression. Admit she hath heretofore been cruel, yet now may she be courteous. A true-hearted Lover forgets all trespasses, and a smile cureth the wound of a frown. Thus after the manner of fond Lovers, he flattered himself in his own folly, and in the praise of his fair Lady, he sang this pleasant Ditty here following.  


THe Pride of britain is my hearts delight,  
My Lady lives, my true love to requited:  
And in her life I live, that else were dead,  
Like withered leaves in time of Winter  shed.   

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

Her gentle words more sweet than Honey are,  
Her eyes for clearness dim the brightest Star:  
Oh! were her heart so kind as she is fair,  
No Lady might with my true love compare.   

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

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

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


OF Craft and Crafts-men more or less, the Gentle-Craft I must commend,  
Whose deeds declare their faithfulness, and hearty Love unto their Friend.  
The Gentle-Craft in midst of strife,  
Yields comfort to a careful Life.   

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

Spending my days in sweet content, with many a pleasant sugared Song,  
Sitting with pleasures compliment, whilst we recorded lovers wrong:  
And while the Gentle-Craft we used,  
True love by us was not abused.   

Our shoes we sowed with merry notes, and by our mirth expelled all moan,  
Like nightingales, from whose sweet throats, most pleasant Tunes are nightly blown,  
The Gentle-Craft is fittest then,  
For poor distressed Gentlemen.   

Their minds do mount in courtesy, and they disdain a niggards Feast,  
Their Bodies are for Chivalry, all cowardice they do detest:  
For Sword and Shield, for Bow and Shaft,  
No man can slain the Gentle-Craft.   

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

If we want Money over-night, ere next day noon God will it sand,  
Thus we may keep ourselves upright, and be no Churls unto our Friend:  
Thus do we live where pleasure springs,  
In our conceit like petty Kings.   

Our hearts with care, we may not kill, mans life surpasseth worldly Wealth,  
Content surpasseth riches still, and fie on Knaves that live by stealth:  
This Trade therefore both great and small,  
The Gentle-Craft shall ever call.    
When the journeymen shoemakers had heard this Song, and the fair title that Sir Hugh had given their Trade: they engraved the same so deeply in their minds, that to this day it could never be razed out, like a remembrance in a Marble-stone which continueth time out of mind.  
But not long after came the doleful day, wherein these two Lovers must lose their lives, who like two meek Lamb● were lead to the slaughter: the bloody performance thereof was to be done hard by that fair Fountain, where the Love despi●… ng Lady made her most abode: and because she was a Kings daughter, the bloody Tyrant gave her the privilege to choose her own death: to the which she passed with as good a countenance, as if she had been a fair young Bride prepared for Marriage.  
( Viz) When they were come to the place of execution, and mounted on the Scaffold, they seemed for beauty like two bright stars, Castor and Pollux; there they embraced each other with such chast desire, as all those that beholded them, admi●ed to see how steadfast and firm both these Lovers were, ready in hearts and minds to heaven itself.  
At what time the Lady turned her self to Sir Hugh and spake to this effect: Now I find thee a perfect Lover indeed, that having settled thy affections above the Skies, art ready to yield thy life for thy love, who in requital thereof, will give thee thy life for ever.  
The love of earthly creatures is mixed with many miseries, and interlaced with sundry sorrows; and here grief shall abate the pleasures of love, but be well assured that you shall follow the same.  
Thou didst wooe me for love, and now I have won thee ●o love, where settling both ourselves upon God his love, we will love one another: and in token of that heavenly love, receive of me, I pray thee, a chast and loving kiss from my dying lips.  
Fair Winifred( qd he) it is true indeed, I never loved truly, till thou taughtest me to love, for then my love was full of discontent; but now altogether pleasing, and more sweet to the thought thereof, than any one can express.  
The thing that I before ever called love, was but a shadow of love; a sweetness tempered with gull, a dying life, and a living death; where the heart was continually tossed upon the Seas of tempestuous sorrows, and wherein the mind had no calm quietness: And therefore blessed be the time that I ever learned this love, With that he was interrupted by the Tyrant, who said, You are not come hither to talk, but to die: I have sworn you shall both die at this instant. Thou Tyrant( said Sir Hugh) the very like sentence is pronounced against thyself: for Nature hath doomed that thou shalt die likewise, and albeit the execution thereof be something deferred, yet at length it will come, and that shortly, for never did Tyrant carry gray hairs to the Grave.  
The young Lady desired first to die, saying to Sir Hugh, Come dear friend, and learn magnanimity of a Maid: now shalt thou see a silly woman scorn death at his teeth, and make as small account of his cruelty, as the Tyrant doth of our lives; and therewith stripped up her silken sleeves and committed her Alabaster Arms into the Executioners foul hands, having made choice to die bleeding: at what time being pricked in every vein, the scarlet blood sprung out in plentiful sort, much like a precious Fountain lately filled with Claret-wine.  
And while she thus bled, she said; Here do I sacrifice my blood to him that bought me, who by his blood wash away all my sins; O my sweet Saviour, thus were thy sides pierced for any transgressions, and in this sort sprung thy precious blood from thee, 〈◇〉 for the love thou barest to mankind: I feel my Heart to faint, but my Soul receiveth strength, I come sweet Christ, I come. And therewith her body fainting and the blood failing, like a Conduit drawn dry, the young Princess fell down dead, at what time a pale colour over spread her fair face in such comely sort as if a heap of Roses had been shadowed with a sheet of pure Lawn.  
But it is to be remembered, that all the while the young Princess bled, her blood was received into certain basins, which being in that sort saved together, the Tyrant caused it to be tempered with poison, and prepared it to be the last drink that Sir Hugh should have: saying, that by her love whom he so dearly loved, he should receive his death. And thereupon incontinently, without any farther delay of time, he caused a cup of the most deadly poisoned blood to be delivered into his hands, who with a lovely and cheerful countenance received the same, and then uttered his mind in this manner.  
O thou cruel Tyrant( quoth he) what a poor spite is this to inflict upon a dying Man, that is as careless how he dies, as when he dies: easy it is for thee to glut me with blood, although with blood thou art not satisfied. Sweet blood( quoth he) precious and pure, how fair a colour dost thou cast before mine eyes? sweet, I say, wast thou, before such time as this ill-savouring poison did infect thee: And yet as thou art I nothing despise thee: O my dear Winifred, full little did I think that ever I should come to drink of thy heart blood.  
My greedy eye, that glutton-like did feed upon thy beauty, and yet like the Sea, was never satisfied, is now with gore-blood fully gorged. Now may I quench my thirsty desire with love, that like hot burning coals set my heart in such an extreme heat, that it could not be quenched before this time; for if fair Winifred could spare any love from heaven, assuredly she left it in her blood, her sweet heart blood I mean, that nourished her chast life: see here is a Candle to cool my vain affections. Far be it that any true lovers should ever taste the like.  
But this punishment hath the just heavens poured upon me, for the preferring the love of an earthly creature, before the love of an heavenly Creator; Pardon, O Lord, the foul sins of superstitious Lovers, that while they make Idols of their Ladies, they forget the honour of thy divine Majesty. Yet doth it do my heart good to think that I must bury sweet Winifreds blood in my body, whose love was lodged long ago in my heart: and therewith drinking the first draft; he said: O Lord, me seemeth this portion hath a comfortable taste, far doth it surpass the Nectar wherewith the Gods were nourished.  
Well( said the Tyrant) seeing it pleaseth thee so well, thou shalt have more; And therewith another cup of the same blood was given him to drink.  
Yea, come( quoth he) my thirst is not yet quenched, for the first draft gave me but a taste of sweetness, and like a longing woman, I desire the rest: and with that he drank the second draft. The third being given him; he took the Cup into his hand, and looking about, he said; Lo here I drink to all the kind Yeomen of the Gentle-Craft.  
I drink to you all( quoth he) but I cannot spare you one drop to pledge me. Had I any good thing to give you, you should soon receive it; but my life the Tyrant doth take, and my flesh is bequeathed to the Fowls. So that nothing is left but only my bones to pleasure you withal, and those if they will do you any good, take them: and so I humbly take my leave, bidding you all farewell. There with the last draft he finished his life; whose dead carcase was hanged up, where the Fowls devoured his flesh; and the young Princess was contemptuously butted by the Well, where she had so long lived. Then had he the title of St. Hugh given him, and she of St. Winifred, by which terms they are both so called to this day.   

CHAP. IV. How the shoemakers stolen away St. Hugh's bones, and made them working tools thereof, and the virtue that they found in the same: whereby it came, that when any man saw a shoemaker traveling with a Pack at his back, they would presently say, There goes St, Hugh's bones.  
 
UPon a time it chanced that a company of journeymen shoemakers passed along by the place where St, Hugh's dead body was hanged, and finding the flesh picked clean off from the bones, they entred thus into communication among themselves:  
Never was St. Hugh so bare( quoth one) to carry never a whit of skin upon his bones; nor thou never so bare( saith another) to bear never a Penny in thy purse.  
But now hearing you talk of St. Hugh it brings me to remembrance of his Legacy that he gave us at his Death: What was that? said the rest: Mary( quoth he) I will tell you; when the gentle Prince saw that the cruelty of the time would not suffor him to be liberal to his friends, but that his life was taken away by one, and his flesh given to others, he most kindly bequeathed his bones unto us.  
Tush( qd another) that was but to show his mind towards the shoemakers, because he had received of them so many favours; For alas, what can the dead mans bones pleasure the living? No( qd another) I can tell you, there may be as great virtue found in his bones as in the brain of a Weasil, or the tongue of a Frog: Much like( answered the rest) but I pray thee show us what virtue is in those things you speak of. Quoth he, I will tell you: The brains of a Weasil hath this power, experientia docet, that if the powder thereof be mingled with rennet, wherewith women make their Cheese, no Mouse dares touch it: In like manner, the tongue of a Water-Frog hath such great force in it, that if it be laid upon the Breast of any one sleeping, it will cause them to tell whatsoever you shall demand; for by that means Dick Piper knew he was a Cuck old. Again, I know that those that are Travellers, are not ignorant that whosoever puts but six leaves of Mugwort in his shoes, shall never be weary, though he travail thirty or forty miles on foot a forenoon. That indeed may be true, quoth one, for by the very same Herb my last Dame kept her Ale from souring: And it it said, That where houseleek is planted, the place shall never be hurt with thunder: Pimpernel is good against Whitchcraft: and because my Sister joan carried always some about her, Mother Bumby could not abide her: therefore what virtue a dead mans bones may have, we know not till we have tried them.  
Why then, said the third man, let us soon at night steal St. Hugh's bones away, and albeit the Tyrant will be displeased, yet it is no theft: for you say they were given us, and therefore we may the bolder take them, and because we will turn them to profit and avoid suspicion, we will make divers of our tools with them, and then if any virtue doth follow them, the better we shall find it.  
To this motion every one gave his consent, so that the same night St. Hugh's bones were taken down, and the same being brought before a sort of shoemakers there they gave their opinion, That it was necessary to fulfil the will of the dead, and to take those bones as in good part, as if they were worth ten thousand pounds; whereupon one stepped out and thus did say: 

MY Friends I pray you list to me,  
And mark what St. Hugh's bones shall be   

FIrst a Drawer and a Dresser,  
Two Wedges, a more and a lesser:  
A pretty block three inches high,  
In Fashion squared like a die;  
Which shall be called by proper name,  
A Heel-block, the very same:  
A hard leather, and a thumb-leather likewise,  
To pull out shoo-thred we must device;  
The Needle and the Thimble shall not be left alone,  
The Princers, and the Pricking awl, and rubbing ston;  
The awl, steel, and jacks, the Sowing Hairs beside,  
The stirrup, holding fast, while we sow the Cow-hide:  
The Whet-stone, the Stopping-stick, and the paring knife,  
All this doth belong to a Journey-mans life:  
Our Apron is the Shrine to wrap these bones in;  
Thus shrowded we St. Hugh's bones in a gentle Lambs skin.    
Now all you good Yeomen of the Gentle-Craft,( tell me now quoth he) how like you this.  
As well( replied they) as St. George doth of his horse; for as long as we can see him fight with the Dragon, we will never part from this posy.  
And it shall be concluded, that what Journey-man soever he be hereafter, that cannot handle his Sword nor Buckler, his Long-sword, or a Quarter staff, sound the Trumpet, or play upon the Flute, and bear his part in a three mans Song, and readily reckon up his tools in rhyme, except he have born Colours in the field, being a Lieutenant, a Sergeant, or Corpo●l shall forfeit and pay a pottle of Wine, or be counted for a Colt, to which they answered all, Viva voice, Content, content: and then after many merry songs they departed. And never after did they travail without these Tools on their backs: which ever since were called St. Hugh's bones.   

CAHP. V. How Crispianus & his Brother Crispin●, the two Sons of the King of Logria( through the cruelty of the Tyrant Maximinus) were fain in disguised manner to seek for their lives safety, and how they were entertained by a shoemaker in Feversham.  
 
WHen the Roman Maximinus sought in cruel sort to bereave this Land of all her Noble Youth, or Youth of Noble blood: the virtuous Queen of Logria( which now is called Kent) dwelled in the City Durovenum alias Canterbury, or the Court of Kentish men, having at that time two young Sons, sought all the means she could possible to keep them out of the Tyrants claws: and in this manner she spake unto them.  
My dear and beloved Sons; the joy and comfort of my age, you see the dangers of these times, and the storms of a Tyrants Reign, who having now gathered together the most part of the young Nobility, to make them slaves in a foreign Land, that are free-born in their own Country, seeketh for you also, thereby to make a clear riddance of all our born Princes, to the end he might plant strangers in their stead: Therefore( my sweet sons) take the counsel of your Mother, and seek in time to prevent ensuing danger, which will come upon us as suddenly as a storm at Sea, and as cruelly as a tiger in the Wilderness, therefore suiting yourselves in honest habits, seek some poor service to shield you from mischance, seeing necessity hath privileged those places from Tyranny. And so( my Sons) the gracious Heavens may one day raise you to deserved dignity and honour.  
The young Lads, seeing that their Mother was so earnest to have them gone, fulfilled her Commandment, and casting off their attire, put homely garments on, and with many bitter tears took leave of the Queen their Mother, desiring her before they went to bestow her blessing upon them.  
O my Sons( quoth she) stand you now upon your ceremonies? Had I leisure to give you one kiss, it were something, the Lord bless you, get you go●e; away, away, make hast I say, let not swift time overslip you, for the Tyrant is hard by: with that she pushed them out of a back door, and then sets her self down to weep.  
The two young Princes, which like pretty Lambs went straying they knew not whither, at length by good fortune came to Feversham, where before the day peep they heard certain shoemakers singing, being as pleasant at their Notes, as they sat at their business: and this was their Song.  


WOuld God that it were Holiday,  
hey derry down, down derry;  
That with my love I might go play,  
with woe my heart is weary:  
My whole delight is in her sight,  
would God I had her company, her company;  
Hey derry down, down a down.   

My love is fine, my love is fair,  
hey derry down, down derry.  
No Maid may well with her compare,  
in Kent or Canterbury;  
From me my Love shall never move,  
would God I had company, &c.   

To see her laugh, to see her smile,  
hey derry down, down derry,  
Doth all my sorrows clean beguile,  
and makes my heart full merry:  
No grief doth grow where she doth go,  
would God I had her company, &c.   

When I do meet her on the green,  
hey derry down, down derry,  
Methinks she looks like beauties Queen,  
which makes my heart full merry;  
Then I her greet with kisses sweet;  
would God I had her company, &c.   

My love comes not of churlish kind,  
hey derry down, down derry;  
But bears a loving courteous mind,  
which makes my heart full merry;  
She is not coy, she is my joy,  
would God I had her company, &c.   

Till Sunday come, farewell my Dear,  
hey derry down, down derry;  
When we do meet we'l have good cheer,  
and then I will be merry:  
If thou love me, I will love thee;  
and still delight in thy company, thy company:  
Hey derry down, down a down.    
The young Princes perceiving such mirth to remain in so homely a Cottage, judged by their pleasant Notes, that their hearts were not cloyed with over much cares; and therefore wished it might be their good hap to be harboured in a place of such great content.  
But standing a long time in doubt what to do, like two distressed strangers, combating betwixt hope and fear, at length taking courage, Crispianus knocked at the door: What Knave knocks there( quoth one of the journeymen) and by and by he takes his Quarter-staff, and opens the door, being as ready to strike as to speak: saying, What lack you? To whom Crispianus made this answer: Good Sir pardon our boldness, and measure not our truth by our rudeness, we are two poor boys that want service, stripped from our friends by the fury of these wars, and therefore are we enforced succourless to crave service in any place: What, have you no friends or acquaintance in these parts to go to( said the shoemaker) by whose means you might get preferment? Alas Sir( said Crispianus) necessity is despised of every one, and misery is trodden down of many, but seldom or never relieved: Yet notwithstanding, if our hope did not yield us some comfort of good hap, we should grow desperate through distress. That were great pity( said the shoemaker) be content, for as our Dame tells our Master, a patient man is better than a strong man: Stay a while, and I will call our Dame to the door, and then you shall hear what she will say. With that he went in and forth came his Dame, who beholding the said youths, said: Now alas poor Boys, how comes it pass that you are out of service? What, would you be shoemakers, and learn the Gentle Craft? Yes forsooth, said they, with all our hearts. Now by my troth, qd she you do look with honest true faces, I will entreat my Husband for you, for we would g●adly have good Boys; and if you will be just and true, and serve God, no doubt but you may do well enough; Come in my Lads; come in. Crispianus and his Brother, with great reverence gave her thanks: and by that time they had stayed a little while, down came the good man, and his Wife hard by his heels, saying, See Husband, these be the youths I  told you of, no doubt but in time they will be good men.  
Her Husband looking wishtly upon them, and conceiving a good opinion of their favours, at length agreed that they should dwell with him, so that they would be bound for seven years. The youths being contented, the bargain was soon ended, and so set to their business, whereat they were no sooner settled, but that great search was made for them in all places; and albeit the Officers came to the house where they dwelled, by reason of their disguise they knew them not: having also taken upon them borrowed names of Crispianus and crispin. Within a few days after the Queen their Mother was by the Tyrant taken, and for that she would not confess where her Sons were, she was laid in Prison in Colchester Castle, whereunto she went with as cheerful a countenance as Cateratus did, when he was lead captive to Rome; coming by the place where her Sons sat at work, with a quick eye she had soon espied them: & look how a dying Coal revives in the wind, even so at this sight she became suddenly read: but making signs that they should hold their tongues, she was lead along: whom seven years after her Sons did never see. But as men stand amazed at the sight of Apparitions in the Air, as ignorant of what success shall follow; even so were these two Princes aghast to see their own Mother thus lead away, not knowing what danger should ensue thereof.  
Notwithstanding they thought good to keep their service, as their lives surest refuge: at what time they both bent their whole minds to please their Master and Dame, refusing nothing that was put them to do: were it to wash-dishes, scour kettles, or any other thing, whereby they thought their Dames favour might be gotten, which made her the readier to give them a good report to their Master, and to do them any other service, which otherwise they should have missed, following therein the admonition of an old journey man, who would always say to the Apprentices: 
Howsoever things do frame,  
Please well thy Master, but chiefly thy Dame,   
Now by that time these two young Princes had truly served their Master the space of four or five years, he was grown somewhat wealthy, and they very cunnning in their Trade, whereby the house had the name to breed the best work-men in the Country, which report in the end, preferred their Master to be the Emperors shoemaker: and by this means his servants went to Maximinus Court every day: but Crispianus and crispin, fearing they should have been known, kept themselves from thence as much as they could: Notwithstanding, at the last persuading themselves that time had worn them out of knowledge, they were willing in the end to go thither, as well to hear tidings of the queen their Mother; as also to seek their own preferment.   

CHAP. VI. How the Emperours fair Daughter Vrsula, fell in love with young C●… pine, coming with shoes to the Court, and how in the end they were secretly Married by a blind friar.  
NOw among all the shoemakers men that came to the Court with shoes, young crispin was had in greatest esteem with the fair Princess, whose Mother being lately dead, she was the only joy of her Father, who always sought means to match her with some worthy Roman, whose renown might ring throughout the whole World.  
 
But fair Ursula whose bright eyes had entangled her heart with desire of the shoemakers favour, despised all proffers of Love in regard of him. And yet notwithstanding she would oft check her own opinion, in placing her love upon a person of such low degree: thus reasoning with her self.  
Most aptly is the God of Love by cunning Painters drawn blind, that so unequally shoots forth his fiery shafts: for had he eyes to see, it were impossible to deal in such sort as in matching Venus with foul Vulcan, yoking the imperial hearts of Kings to the love of Beggars, as he did to Cosetua & as now in myself: I find how mad a thing it would seem to the eyes of the world, than an Emperours daughters should delight in the favour of a simplo shoemaker.  
O Ursula, take heed what thou dost, slain not thy royalty with such indignity. O that Crispines birth were agreeable to his person! for in mine eye, there is no Prince in the World comparable to him: if then while he is clothed with these rags of servitude, he appears so excellent, what would he be, were he in Princely attire? O crispin! either thou art not as thou seemest, or else Nature, in disgrace of Kings hath made thee a shoemaker.  
In these humours would the Princess be often, especially at Crispines approach, or at his departure. For as soon as ever he came within her sight with shoes, a sudden blushy, like a flash of lightning, would strike in her face, & at his departure an earthly pale colour, like the beams of the bright Sun, obscured by coal black clouds. But after many weary conflicts with fancy, she fully resolved at his next coming, to enter into communication with him, but imagining his stay from the Court overlong, on the sudden she sent presently for him, finding great fault with the last shoes he brought her; at which time crispin most humbly on his knee, greatly craved pardon for all such faults as she then found, promising amendment in the next shoes she should have.  
Nay( quoth she) I'l show thee, they are too low something in the instep: also the heel is had; and besides they are too straight in the toes: You shall have a pair made( said he) shall fit you better, for none shall set a stitch in them but mine own self: do, said the Princess, but let me have them so soon as thou canst, and therewith crispin departed.  
The Princess then all solitary, got her self into her Chamber, entred there into consideration, and found within her self great trouble and sorrow, while the tongue the hearts advocate was not suffered to speak. At last she heard Crispines voice, inquiring of the Ladies in the great Chamber, for the Princess: who answered that having taking little rest the night before, she was now laid down to sleep, and therefore they willed him to come again some other time: Asleep, replied the Princess, I am not asleep, bid him stay: what hasty housewife was that which sent him hence: call him again quickly I would advice you. And therefore changing melancholy into Mirth, she arose up from out of her bed, & as a bright Star shooting in the Element she quickly got her forth to meet the shoemaker, whose fair sight was to her as great a comfort, as a Sunshine before a shower of Rain. How now( quoth she) hast thou brought me a pair of shoes? I have gracious Madam( quoth he) Then( quoth the Princess) come thyself and draw them on. Therewith she sitting down, lifted up her well proportioned Leg upon his gentle Knee: where by that time her shoes were drawn on, she had prepared a good reward for her shoemaker: and giving him a handful of Gold, she said: Thou hast so well pleased me in making of these shoes, that I cannot but reward thee in some good sort: Therefore shoemaker take this, and from henceforth let no man make my shoes but thyself. But tell me crispin, art thou not in love, that thou dost smug up thyself so finely, thou wast not wont to go so nearly? I pray thee tell me what pretty Wench it is that is mistress of thy Heart? Truly fair Madam( quoth he) if I should not love, I might be accounted barbarous, for by Natures course, there is a mutual love in all things, the Dove and the Peacock love entirely, so doth the Turtle and the Popinjay; the like affection the fish Musculus beareth to the huge Whale, insomuch that he leadeth him from all danger of stony Rocks. And as amongst Birds and fishes, so amongst Plants and Trees, the like concord is to be found: for if the Male of Palm Trees be planted from the Female, neither of both prosper: and being set one near another, they flourish accordingly: embracing with joy the branches of one another. And for mine own part, I am in love too: For first of all I love my Maker, and next my good Master and Dame: but as concerning the love of pretty Wenches, verily Madam I am clear, and the rather do I abstain from fixing my fancy on woman, seeing so many sorrows do follow the Married sort; for a dram of delight hath a pound of pain.  
That is( answered the Princess) where contention setteth the house on fire, but where true love remains there is no discontent; and what can a man more desire for this worlds comfort, but a virtuous Wife, which is reported to be a treasure inestimable. Therefore crispin, say thy mind, if I prefer thee to a Wife, every way deserving of thy love, wouldst thou take it well?  
Truly Madam( said crispin) if I should not accept of your good will, I should show myself more unmannerly than well nurtured. But seeing it pleaseth you to grace me with your Princely countenance, and to give me liberty to speak my mind, this is my opinion: If I were to choose a Wife, then would I have one, Fair, Rich, and Wise: First to delight mine eye; Secondly, to supply my want: And Thirdly, to govern my House.  
Then( said the Princess) her beauty will I refer unto the judgement of thine own eyes, and her wisdom unto the trial of time: but as concerning her Portion, I dare make some report, because it well deserveth to be praised: For at her Marriage thou shalt have a bag of rare virtues with her. Truly Madam( quoth Crispin) such coin go not currant among Tanners: and I know if I should go with it to the Market, it would buy me no Sole-Leather. Notwithstanding, when I do see her, I will tell you more of my mind.  
The Princess taking him aside privately, walking with him in a fair Gallery, said, In looking upon me thou mayst judge of her, for she is as like me as may be: when crispin heard her say so, he right prudently answered, I had rather Madam she were your own self, than like yourself: and although my words favour of presumption, yet with your favour I dare boldly pronounce it, that I hold myself worthy of a Queen, if I could get her good will: and were it no danger to match with your Excellency, so it should please you, it should not dislike me.  
Then said the Princess, Now shoemaker, I see thou hast some courage in thee; and doubt thou not, but if I were of that mind, I would be as ready to guide thee from the dangerous Rocks of my Fathers wrath, as the fish called Musculus is for the Whale; But could thou be contented to die for a Ladies love? No, Madam( quoth he) if I could keep her love and live.  
Then live fair friend( answered she) enjoy my love, for I will rather die than live without thee. crispin hearing this was strike into an ecstasy of joy, in such sort as he wist not whether he was asleep or dreamed: But by that time he had summoned his wits together, with the plighting his Faith, he opened his Estate and High Birth unto her, showing all the extremities that he and his Brother had been put unto, since the death of their Royal Father, and of the imprisonment of the Queen their Mother.  
The which when fair Ursula with great wonder heard, giving an earnest of her love, with a sweet Kiss she said: My dear love and most gentle Prince, ever did I think that more than a common man was shrouded in these poor Habiliments, which made me the bolder to impart my mind unto thee; and now dread no more my Fathers wrath, for the fire thereof was long ago quenched.  
No no( quoth crispin) an Eagles thirst is never expelled but by blood. And albeit your Father have now( perhaps) qualified the heat of his fury by the length of time, yet if he should understand of this my love to thee, it would cause him to take out of the ashes hot burning coals of displeasure again, and then might my life pay a dear price for thy love.  
Therefore( my dear Vrsula) I desire thee, even by the power of that love thou bearest to me, to keep secret what I have shewed to thee, nothing doubting but that in time I may find release of these miseries; in the mean space we will be secretly Married, by which holy Knot; we as well in body as in heart may be unseparably tied together.  
To this Ursula consented most gladly; and thereupon  told him that she would meet him in her Fathers Park, at any hour he would appoint. Which she might do the more easily, in respect she had a Key to one of the Garden doors, which gave yresent passage into the Park. The day and hour being concluded upon, they partend for this time both of them endued with such content, as in all their lives they never found the like.  
And at this time there was in Canterbury a bind friar, that in many years had never seen the Sun, to this man did crispin go, thinking him the fittest Chaplain to chop up such a Marriage, who meeting with him at Christ-Church one evening after the Anthem, broken with him after this manner:  
God speed you good father: there is a certain friend of mine that would be secretly Married in the Morning betimes, for which purpose he thinks you the fittest man to perform it in all the cloister; and therefore if you will be diligent to do it, and secret to conceal it, you shall have four Angels for your pains.  
The friar being fired with the desire of his gold, rubbing his Clbow, and scratching his Crown swore by the blessed book that hung by his knee that he would be both willing, and constant to keep it secret. T●s● young man, you may trust me, I have done many of these fears in my days; I know that youth are youth, but they would not have all the world wonder at their doings. And where shall it be, said the friar? Quoth crispin, at St. Gregories chapel: and because you shall not make your boy acquainted therewith, I myself will call you in the morning. Good Father be not forgetful to observe the time, at two of the Clock is the hour, and therefore look you be ready when I call you: I warrant you( replied the fire); and because I will not over-sleep myself, I will for this night lye in my clo●… hs: so that as soon as ever you call, I will streight be ready: Then Father I will trust to you,( quoth crispin) and so departed.  
When he came to his Master he made not many words, but so soon as he had supped on Sunday at night, he went to his Chamber, and laid him down upon his Bed, making no creature in the house privy to his intent, not his own Brother, his mind still running on his fair mistress, and the happy hour that will tie them both in one: never was there hunger-starved man that did long more for the sweet approach of wholesome food, than did crispin for two a Clock. And so soon as the silent night had drawn all things to rest, crispin got him up, and to Canterbury goes he to meet his Rose cheeked Lady in her Fathers Park, who also took hold of times forelock & like clear Cynthia shaped her course to seek out Sol in the Meridian: But so soon as her searching eye had spied him, she commended his vigilancy, saying: He well observed his hour: O my dear( quoth he) rich Pearls do make true men thieves: But finding thee here so happily, I will fetch the friar strait: He had no sooner called at the friar door but he presently heard him, and groping the way down, he opened the door, and along they went together: but the friar finding his journey longer than he expected, said: that either St. Gregories chapel was removed, or else he was not so good a foot-man as he was wont to be: That is likely enough( said crispin) for how much the older you are since you went this way last so much the weaker you are to travail: but be you content now, we are at the last come to the place; and therefore good friar make what speed you may: I warrant you( quoth he) and therewith he puts his Spectacles upon his Nose? The fair Princess seeing that, laughed hearty, saying, Little need hath a blind man of pair of Spectacles; Truly mistress( said he) as little need hath an old man of a young wife: but you may see what use is: Though I be blind and cannot see a Letter, yet I cannot say Mass without my Book and my Spectacles: and then he proceeded to solemnize their Marriage: which being finished, the friar had his Gold, and home he was lead: In the mean time the Princess stayed still in the Park for her Bridegroom, where when he came, on a bank of sweet Primroses he plucked the Rose of amorous delight: and after the Princess came to her Fathers Palace, and crispin to his Masters Shop.   

CAHP. VII. How Crispianus was prest to the wars, and how he fought with Iphicratis the renowned General of the Persians, who made War upon the French-men; showing also the occasion that a shoemakers Son is said to be a Prince born.  
IN the mean time that crispin was secretly buffed about his Marriage, his brother Crispianus the same night, with many others, was prest to Wars into the Country of Gauls, now called France; which made his Master and Dame full of woe: who had committed to his Government the whole rule of his house. And when crispin came home, they fold him what chance had happened, and demanded where he had been: they said, they were glad he had so well escaped.  
 
Crispines excusing himself as well as he could, said: He was sorry for his Brothers sudden departure: notwithstanding the joy of his late Marriage mitigated much of his sorrow: to whom in his Brothers absence his Master gave the oversight of his household: which place he guided with such discretion, as thereby he got both the good will of his Master, and the love of the household: And as he sat one day at his work he sung this song in commendation of his Marriage; himself sung the Ditty, and his fellows bore the burden.  


AMongst the joys on Earth, though little joy there be,  
hey down down a down, fine is the silken Twist;  
Among the married sort, much comfort I do see,  
hey down down a down, believe it they that list:  
He that is a married man, hath beauty to embrace,  
hey down down a down, and therefore mukle w●….   

He liveth in delight, and is in happy case:  
Hey down down a down, in faith we think not so:  
His Wife doth dress his meat, with every thing most meet,  
hey down down a down, fair women love good cheer;  
And when he comes to bed, she gives him kisses sweet,  
hey down down a down, for thanks he pay full dear.   

A hundred honey sweets he hath when that is done,  
hey down down a down, the truth is seldom known:  
He hath in little time a Daughter or a Son,  
hey down down a down, God grant they be his own,  
A Wife is evermore both faithful, true, and just,  
hey down down a down, 'tis more than you do know.   

Her Husband may be sure in her to put his trust,  
hey down down a down, most are deceived so,  
While he doth ride abroad, she looks unto his house,  
hey down down a down, the finest cloth is torn;  
And when that he comes home, she gives him Brawn and prise,  
hey down down a down, and oftentimes the Horn.    
How now, what is that you say( quoth crispin)? Nothing( quoth they) but only bear the burden of your Song: and surely we think it great pity that you are not Married, seeing you can sing so well in the praise of Marriage: Truly( quoth he) were it not for that holy institution, what would the world be, but abrood of hapless Bastards: like to the cursed seed of Cain, men fit for all manner of villainy, and such as would leave behind them a race of runagate persons, that would live as badly as they are lewdly begotten.  
The rest of the journeymen hearing him enter into such a deep discourse in the matter, began therefore to demand many questions: but seeing it appertaineth not to our matter, we will leave them to their disputation, and in the mean space I will show you something of Crispianus, who is now in France with many noble Brittains, whom Maximinus sent thither to aid the Gauls, against the mighty force of Iphicratis the Persian General, that at this time invaded their country with a great power. The day of Battle being appointed, the Armies met in the field, at which time both the Generals like two lions ●… ed with wrath, in their proud march, viewed one another, breathing forth on both sides words of disdain, and thus the General of the Gauls began.  
Thou insulting Commander of the Eastern Troops, how durst thou set thy ambitious foot within our Territories? Cannot the confines of Persia content thee, nor those conquered Kingdoms already in thy hand, but with unsatiable desire thou must come to usurp our right? Know thou that the undaunted gall do scorn thee; for albeit that Alexander-like thou seekest to subdue the whole world, flattering thyself in thy fortune; yet never think that the Son of a shoemaker shall bend our neck to a servile yoke. Therefore in our just right we are come to give thee hire for thy pride: & by the force of our Swords to beat down the sceptre of thy proud thoughts.  
The renowned Iphicratis upon these words made this reply: Now may I report that the Gauls can do something, finding them such good scolds: But know this that I come not to rail, but to revenge these contemptuous speeches and with the point of our sturdy launces to thrust them down your throats again. Indeed my Fathers trade is a reproach to me, but thou art a reproach to thy Father; But thou shalt understand that A shoemakers Son is a Prince born●▪ His Fortune made him so and thou shalt find no less. And hereupon the Trumpets sounding a charge, and the Drums striking alarum, there followed a sore and cruel fight, wherein Crispianus, like a second Hector, laid about him, hewing down his Foes on every side, whose Valiancy and Princely courage was noted of all the Gauls: and this fierce fight ended with the nights approach: each Army took their rest; at what time the Noble General of the Gauls sent for Crispianus, & received him with sundry kind embracements in his Tent: he demanded of what birth he was? To whom Crispianus shaped this answer? Most worthy General, my birth is not mean, and my secrets less, but by Trade I am a shoemaker in England.  
A shoemaker( said the General) If such famed wait upon shoemakers, and such Magnanimity follow them, well were it for us if all the people in the Kingdom were shoemakers: And as great thanks I am to give Maximinus, for sending me such a soldier, as he may be proud to have such a Subject: and now right sorry am I, that ever I reproached famous Iphicratis with his Fathers trade, seeing I find it true, that Magnanimity and Knightly Prowess, is not always tied within the compass of a noble Blood: And for my own part I will so honourably requited thy deservings, that thou shalt bless the time thou ever camest into these Wars.  
The next morning the Generals joined battle again, resolving in this fight, either by death, or victory, to make an end of these troubles; where the Souldiers on each side striven for the golden wreathe of renown. The two Generals meeting in the battle, fought courageously together, in which bloody conflict, the Prince of the Gauls was thrice by Iphicratis unhorsed, and as many times of Crispianus mounted again: but in the end the great Commander of the Eastern Army so conjointly prevailed, that he had seized on the person of the French Prince, and was carrying him Captive to his Colours.  
But so highly was Crispianus favoured of Fortune, that he and his fellows met him in the Pride of his conquest: who then all besmeared in the Persian blood, set upon Iphicratis, and so manfully behaved himself, that he recovered the Prince again, and in despite of the Persians, brought him to his royal tent; in which encounter the Noble Iphicratis was sore wounded, by reason whereof, the Souldiers had rest for three or four days: in which space, Iphicratis sent to the Prince of Gauls, to know what King he was, that in such valiant sort had rescued him out of his hands: saying, That if he could serve him, he would make him Ruler of a mighty Kingdom.  
The French Prince sent him word, that it was a right hardy britain, which had performed that honourable service: but no Knight, though well deserving greater dignity; but a shoemaker in England: and thus( quoth he) a shoemakers Son, was by a shoemaker foiled.  
When Iphicratis understood this, he sent word again to the Gauls, that for the favour of that worthy man, he would not only cease the Wars, but for ever after be a friend to the Gauls: Which joyful Message when the French King understood, most willingly embraced the unlooked for tidings of a happy peace: and thereupon made Crispianus a Knight.  
After the which there was a great Feast ordained, whereunto the renowned Iphicratis was invited, and the two Generals with Crispianus friendly met together: Thus the sour War was ended with sweet feasting: and Iphicratis soon after departed out of the Country with his Army, and never after amnoyed them.  
Then the French King writing his Letter of thanks unto the Emperour Maximinus, did therein certify him of the Princely acts of Crispianus, whereby he was brought into the Emperours favour: and with these Letters, Crispianus returned into England.   

CHAP. VIII. How the Lady Vrsula finding her self to be with Child, made great moan unto her husband crispin, and how he provided for her a secret place, where she was delivered.  
IN the mean space the Lady Ursula finding her self to be with Child, and her unknown Husband coming one day with shoes unto her, she made her moan unto him, saying: O crispin how shall we do; the time of my sorrow and shane draweth on, I feel that living in my womb, which I fear will bring death upon us all. Why my dear Lady( answered he) art thou with Child, keep thy chamber close, and wittily excuse thy grief, until I have found means to procure our safety.  
 
But dost thou mean faithfully( said she) wilt thou not deceive me, and for fear of my Fathers wrath fly the Country? if thou shouldst do so, then were I the wretchedest Lady a live: forsake me not sweet crispin, whatsoever thou dost, but take me with thee wheresoever thou goest; it is not my Fathers frowns that I regard, so I may have thy favour: What do I care for a Princely Palace? an homely Cottage shall content me in thy company. O my love, I will rather learn to spin Hemp for thy shop-thred, than live without thee in the greatest pleasure.  
I will not leave thee my dear love( quoth he) by that Faith I vow, which I plighted to thee at our blessed Marriage, and therefore be contented, and it shall not be long before I return. Leaving thus his sad Lady, he came home, and secretly broke the matter unto his Dame, desiring her counsel in this his extremity  
What, how now( quoth she) hast thou got a Maid with Child? Ah thou whoreson villain, thou hast undone thyself, how wilt thou do now? thou hast made a fair hand: here is now sixteen-pence a week, besides soap and candles, beds, shirts, biggings, wast-coats, head-bands, swadle-bands, cross-cloths, bibs, tail-coats, mantles, hose, shoes, coats, petticoats, cradle, and crickets, and beside that a standing-stool, and a Posnet to make the child pap, and all this is come upon thee, besides the charge of her lying in: Oh crispin, crispin, I am hearty sorry for thee. But in good faith, if I knew the quean that hath brought thee to this folly, I would have her by the face, I swear to you: for though I speak it before thee( crispin) thou art a pro[er fellow, and thou mightest have done full well, if thou hadst had grace; God hath done his part on thee: and with that she began with kindness to weep, whereupon her Husband coming in asked what she ailed: O man( said she) crispin: Why, what of crispin tell me; why speakest thou not? we shall lose a good servant, so we shall. What servant shall we lose, foolish woman? quoth he, tell me quickly. O Husband, by Cock and pie I swear I'll have her by the Nose. Who wilt thou have by the Nose? what the Devil art thou mad, that thou wilt not answer me?  
crispin, who at his Masters coming in shunned the Room, lending an ear unto these words, went to his Master, and said unto him: Sir, these four years have I served you, and the fifth draweth near unto an end: and as I have found you a good Master to me, so I trust you have had no great cause to complain of me, though through ignorance I have sometimes made offence: And knowing at this instant no man so near a friend unto me as yourself, I have thought good to impart my secret counsel unto you; something I presumed upon my good Dames favour, which made me open that unto her, which now I wish I had not discovered: Notwithstanding, resting more upon her discretion than her secrecy, I would desire your counsel in a matter that concerns me very near. Verily, said his Master, if it be a thing wherein I may do thee good, thou shalt find that I will not fall from thee in thy sorrows, and therefore be not abashed to declare thy mind: for I swear, if I may procure thee right, thou shalt put up no wrong. Why then Sir, thus it is( quoth he) my will running before my wit, I have gotten a Maid with Child, and I wot not in this case what to do, that I might preserve the Maid from shane, and myself from discredit: Besides, I doubt if it be known it will cost me my life; therefore in such a case good Master be secret. Tush man, fear not( quoth he) it is a matter of nothing: but I pray thee now tell me what wanton wagtail it is that thou hast clapped under the Apron? O Master( quoth he) the Kings fair Daughter Vrsula is my love, and she it is that lives in care for my sake. Passion of my heart thou whoreson Knave, quoth his Master, thou art a dead man; I marvel how the Devil thou camest to be so bold with her? Surely thou hast drawn on her shoes on Sunday, I may say, thou hast left so good a token behind; but in truth my boy I commend thee that thou wouldst shoot at the fairest. Yea, Sir( quoth crispin) and I have hit the mark I trow, and I do verily believe that none will shoot so near again. Nay, swear not, said his Master, many may aim at fair marks, and more than one man hits them now and then: but what wouldst thou have me to do in this case? My good Master( quoth crispin) the truth is she is my Wife, and the very same night my Brother was prest to the Wars, I was married to her: and if you could tell me how she might be delivered of her burden without any suspicion, I should not only remain beholding to you while I live, but would also gratify your kindness in such sort as would content you.  
His Dame all this while listened to their talk, and when she understood he spake of the Kings Daughter, and that he had Married her, she said; Now Gods blessing on thy heart crispin, that thou art so careful for thy Wife: but it maketh me wonder she should mary a shoemaker, and a poor fellow too. Master and Dame( qd crispin) seeing I have begun, I'll show you a further matter, as strange as the other. The necessity of these times makes many noble personages to mask in this habit, as jupiter did in a Shepherds weeds: and the truth is, the Lady Vrsula is not ignorant that by matching with me, she hath wedded a Prince; and you may say, that these five years two Princes have served you obediently, under the simplo borrowed names of crispin and Crispianus. Our Royal Father was slain by the Emperour Maximinus, and the Queen our Mother yet lies imprisoned: and your poor house, and these Leather Garments have been our life of defence, against the blood-thirsty Tyrant. Now you see that though there was hate toward us in the Father, yet there is love yielded us by the Daughter. This must be kept for a certain time from the knowledge of him, lest our lives pay a dear ransom for our loves. Well crispin( quoth his Dame) be of good cheer, for I have a device in my head how to get thy Love out of her Fathers Palace, that she may be brought to bed in mine own house, without either hurt to thee, or dishonour to her, if thou wilt do as I wish thee: when you do perceive that she grows near unto the time of her travail, I would wish you to work such means, as to set a three on fire late in the night, that standeth somewhat near one of the Beacons upon the Sea-coast, whereby it will follow, that such watch-men that watch on our Beacons, supposing the Beacons upon the Sea-coast to be on fire, will set theirs on fire also. Then will there be a great hurly burly, with the preparation of men at Arms on all sides, to withstand the supposed Foe, the which they shall never find: then( as you know) Maximinus with his household will be in most fear, because he is most hated: that whilst he is abroad, the rest of his household will every one of them seek for their own safeguard, amongst the which let fair Vrsula be one, who by that means singling her self alone, may take up my house, and here she may be closely kept till she be delivered, taking upon her the name and habit of a simplo woman. But the truth of this matter,( quoth crispin) I doubt it will be soon perceived and found, then how shall Lady Vrsula do, for she will strait be missed? Tush, that is no matter,( quoth his Dame) and missed let her be, until such time as she is in better ●ase to go abroad again: so in such a tumult as then will be, they will suppose many things, that one mischance or other is befallen her; or if she be in health, that she hath wandered into the Woods, or some other uncouth place, where she might best provide for safety; and when she comes home again, I warrant thee crispin she shall be welcome. Then said his Master, I like my Wives counsel well, therefore by my consent put it in practise: whereunto crispin consented; and making the Lady privy to the purpose, at length it was put in execution; at which there was crying out on all sides, Arm, Arm, Arm, our Enemies are coming upon us: Where? quoth they, at Rucupium, said one; at Arugagus Castle, said another; quoth the third, it is at Doris; I tell you( quoth the fourth) it is at Dour; and all this while it is but at Dover( said the fift● man) and at Dover it is undoubtedly, therefore hast hast away, for never was there more need: so that Maximinus was almost at his wits end, as one not knowing which way to turn, the crys of the people came so thick one after another: The waiting Gentlewomen left the Princess, and sought for their own safety: Thus while some were busy in carrying out the Kings Treasure, others hiding the Plate, and others the Goods, Ursula had an easy passage into the shoemakers house.  
The young Prince crispin, was gone with the rest of the Town towards Dover, where when they came there was nothing to do: which when Maximinus saw, he was not a little glad the wars were so soon ended: But when he came to the Court and missed his Daughter, there was posting up and down in every place to seek her, but all in vain, for no man could meet with her, for which he made great lamentation, making a Proclamation throughtout the whole country, That whatsoever could bring her to him, he should not only have a Princely reward, but also if he were a man of Noble blood, he should be honoured with the Marriage of his fai● Daughter.  
This was good news to crispin, who was not to learn to make profit thereof: But by that time the Lady was light, Crispianus his eldest brother arrived in England, with great Honour, as before you have heard. And before he went to the Court, he thought it good to visit his old Master, who came also in good time to the Christening of his Brothers Child, which when he with wonder beholded, noting what a strange accident there was, that Maximinus's Daughter should be his Brothers Wife: But after that he had in Princely manner saluted the new delivered Lady, taking the Infant in his arms, he kissed it, saying: Now will I say an swear( quoth and) that A Shoemakers Son is a Prince born: joining in the opinion of Iphicratis, and henceforth shoemakers shall never let their term die.  
Then turning to his Master and Dame, he said; How much dear Master and Dame, are we bound to your favours, that have maintained our Honours with our Happiness, for by this means I hope we shall make a joyful conclusion of our sorrowful beginning, and I will so work, that the Emperor shall confirm what is already begun; I mean, the Honour due to these Princely Lovers, and together with our happy fortunes procure our Mothers liberty.  
Hereupon within a short time after he made preparation to the Court, he attired himself in Princely manner, and with a most Knightly grace, he delivered to Maximinus the King of Gauls Letter; where he certified the Emperour of the Honourable Deeds performed by Crispianus, whereupon he received him to great favour, and said unto him, Right Renowned Knight, for the great honour thou hast done me in France, I will honour thee with any thing thou shalt command, that standeth with the Majesty and credit of an Emperor to give. Then I beseech your Highness( quoth he) to grant me the life and liberty of my dear Mother, that Late Queen of Logria. Art thou her Son, said Maximinus? Although thy Father was my Foe, yet must I needs say he was a most courageous and War-like Prince; thy svit is granted: and once I had a daughter was worthy of thy love, but unconstant fortune hath bereft me of that bliss. But had it pleased the fair Heavens to have left her to me this day, I would have made thee more honourable by her match; but seeing my wishing doth nothing profit thee, take hence the richest Jewel that I have, and be thou next myself in authority. With that he took from his own Neck a Collar of precious Diamonds, and gave it to Crispianus, saying, Be thou as fortunate as Polycrates.   

CAHP. IX. How fair Vrsula came before her Father, with crispin her Husband, who was joyfully received by him, and in the end had his good will to confirm the Marriage betwixt them: whereupon there was great joy on both sides: and the counsellors in honour of this happy day make a joyful Song.  
 
WIthin a certain space after, word was brought to the Emperor, that his Daughter was with a shoemaker come to the Court, whereat Maximinus was strike into a sudden joy, saying: An hononourable shoemaker may he be that hath brought me my fair Daughter again; welcome my sweet Vrsula, and in good time welcome to thy Father, and welcome also is this happy young man that hath so fortunately brought thee: and turning to Crispianus he said, Noble Sir Knight, take here my Daughter to Wife: not so dear Father( quoth she) this man hath best deserved my love, that hath preserved my life, and his wife will I be Why Vrsula, said her Father, wilt thou darken the sunshine of my joy, with clouds of foul obstinacy, and yoke thyself so unequally; This man is a Prince: And this mans Son is another( quoth she) That is strenge, said the Emperor, can that Child be a Prince, whose Father is but a shoemaker?  
Then answered Ursula, My Royal Father, A Shomakers Son is a Prince born. Most gracious Lord( quoth Crispianus) the very like sentence did I hear the Renowned Iphicratis pronounce to the King of Gauls, when he upbraided him with his birth. With that Crispines, Dame presented the Child to the Emperor, and fair Ursula was very diligent to uncover the Childs face, and held it to her Father. Why Daughter( quoth he) art thou not ashamed to honour this base born brat so much? hence with the Elf: and therewith pushed it from him, whereat his Daughters tears trickled down her Cheeks, and so kissing the Child gave it again to the woman. What( said Maximinus) dost thou love the Child so well that thou must kiss it, and weep for it; I have cause her dear Father( quoth she) for that this Childs Mother lay in my Mothers Belly.  
At these words the Emperor suspected something, demanded of crispin of what Parentage he was; and then knowing that he was Crispianus's Brother, all the controversy was ended, and their secret Marriage confirmed openly with great joy and triumph: at which time the shoemakers in the same Town made Holiday, to whom crispin and Crispianus sent most Princely gifts for to maintain their merriment: And ever after upon that day at night, the shoemakers make great cheer, and feasting, in remembrance of these two Princely Brethren: and because it might not be forgotten, they caused their names to be placed in the calendar for a yearly remembrance, which you shall find in the Month of October, three days before the Feast of Simon and judas.  

The shoemakers Song on Crispianus Night.  
TWo Princely Brethren once there were, right Sons unto a King,  
Whose Father, Tyrant Maximinus to cruel death did bring:  
Crispianus one was called the eldest of the two.  
crispin was the others name, which well had learned to wooe.  
These Brethen then, were after fain from Fathers house to fly,  
Because their Foes to spoil their lives, in privy wait did lie;  
Into a kind shoemakers house, they suddenly stepped in,  
And there to learn the Gentle Craft did presently begin.  
And five years space they lived so, with great content of mind,  
So that the Tyrant could not tell whereas he should them find:  
Though every day to Court they came, with shoes for Ladies feet  
They were not known by their attire, they used themselves so meet.  
At length unto the furious Wars, was Crispianus Prest,  
Whereas his Knightly prowess then, he tried above the rest;  
But crispin found him better sport, would I had crispin been,  
The Kings fair Daughter loved him well, as it was after seen:  
The length of this fair Ladies foot so well did crispin know,  
That none but he could please her mind, the certain truth is so:  
Came he by night or else by day, he was most welcome still,  
With kisses sweet she did him pay, and thanks for his good will.  
So oft these Lovers twain did meet, by day and eke by night,  
That at the last the Lady said she should be shamed quiter:  
What was the matter, tell me true, that so her sorrow bread.  
Her shoemaker most daintily, had got her Maider-head.  
But at the length so wisely wrought, as doth the story tell;  
Her Fathers right good will he got, and every thing was well,  
And Crispianus came again from Wars Victoriously;  
Then shoemakers make Holiday, and therefore so will I;  
And now for Crispianus sake, this Wine I drink to thee,  
And he that doth his mark mistake, and will not now pledge me,  
He is not Crispianus friend, nor worthy well I wot,  
To have a Lady to his Love, as crispin he hath got.    

CHAP. X. How Sir Simon Eyer being at first a shoemaker, became in the end Mayor of London, through the Counsel of his Wife: And how he broken his fast every day on a Table that he said he would not sell for a thousand pounds: And how he builded Leaden-Hall.  
 
our English Chronicles do make mention, that sometime there was in the honourable City of London, a worthy Mayor, known by the name of Sir Simon Eyer, whose famed liveth in the mouth of many men to this day, who albeit he descended from mean Parentage, yet by Gods blessing in the end he came to be a most worthy man in the Common-wealth.  
This man being brought young out of the North-Country, was bound apprentice to a shoemaker, bearing then the name of the Gentle-Craft( as still it doth) his Master being a man of reasonable wealth, set many journeymen and Prentices to work, who followed their business with great delight, which quiter excludeth all weariness; for when servants do sit at their work like dromedaries, then their minds are never lightly on their business: for it is an old Proverb; 

They prove Servants kind and good,  
That sing at their business like Birds in a Wood.    
Such Fellows had this young Lad, who was not behind with many Northern Iigs, to answer their Southern Songs: This youth being the youngest apprentice in the House, as occasion served, was often sent to the Conduit for water, whereby in a short time he fell acquainted with many other Printices, coming thither for the same intent.  
Now their custom was, that every Sunday morning, divers of these Prentices did use to go to a place near the Conduit, to break their fast with Pudding Pies, and often they would take Simon along with them; but upon a time it fell out, that when he should draw money to pay the shot with the rest, that he had none, whereupon he merrily said unto them: My faithful Friends, and Conduit-Companions, treasurers of the Water-Tankard, and main Pillars of the Pudding-house; I may now compare my Purse to a barren do, that yields the Keeper no more good than an empty carcase: or to a bad Nut, which being opened hath never a Kernel: Therefore if it will please you to pardon me at this time, and excuse me for my part of the shot, I do here vow unto you, that if ever I come to be Lord mayor of the City, I will give a breakfast to all the Prentices in London. We do take your word,( quoth they) and so they departed.  
It came to pass that, Simon having at length worn out the time of his Prenticeship, that he fell in love with a Maiden that was near Neighbour unto him, unto whom at length he was married and got him a Shop, and laboured hard daily, and his young wife was never idle, but strait when she had nothing to do, she sat in- the Shop and spun, and having lived thus alone a year or thereabout, and having-gathered something together, at length he got him some Prentices, and a journeyman or two, and he could not make his ware so fast as he could have sold it, so that he stood in great need of a journeyman or two more.  
At last one of his servants espying one go along the street with a tardle at his back, called to his Master, suying: Sir, yonder goes St. Hugh's bones, twenty pound to a penny: Run presently( quoth he) and fetch him hither: The Boy running forth called to the man, saying: Good fellow come hither, here is one would speak with you The fellow being a French-man that had not long been in England, turning about, said: Hea, what you see? will you speak wed me? Hea, what you have? tell me what you have Hea? And with that coming to the Stall, the good man asked him if he lacked work, we permasoy quoth the French-man Hereupon Simon took him in, and to work he went merrily, where he behaved himself so well, that his Master made a good account of him, thinking he had been a bachelor, but in the end it was found otherwise.  
This man was the first that wrought upon the low cut shoe, with the square to. and the latchet overthwart the instep; before which time, in England they did wear a high shoe that reached above the Ankles, right after the manner of our husbandmens-shooes at this day, save only that it was made very sharp at the to, turning up like the tail of an iceland Dog; or as you see a Cock carry his hinder feathers.  
Now it is to be remembered, that while John Denevale dwelled with Simon Eyer, it chanced that a Ship of the Isle of Candy, was driven upon our cost, laden with all kind of Lawns and Cambricks, and other linen Cloath, which commodities at that time were in London very scant and exceeding dear, and by reason of a great leak the Ship had got at Sea, being unable to sail any further, he would make what profit he could of his goods here.  
And being come to London it was John Denevales chance to meet him in the streets, of whom the Merchant in the Greek tongue, demanded where he might have a lodging, for be was one that had never been in England before, and being unacquainted, wist not whither to go, but while he spake Greek, John Denevele asnwered him still in French, which tongue the Merchant understood well: And therefore being glad that he had met with one that could talk with him, he declared unto him what tempests he endured at Sea and also how his Ship lay upon the cost, with such Commodities as he would sell: Truly Sir( quoth John) I am myself but a stranger in this Country, and utterly unacquainted with Merchants, but I dwell with one in the City, that is a very honest man, and it may be that he can help you to some that will deal with you for it, and if you think it good, I will move him with it, and in the mean space I'll bring you where you may have a very good lodging; to morrow morning I will come to you again.  
Sir, said this Merchant, if you please to do me that favour I'll not only be thankful unto you for the same, but also in most honest sort will content you for your pains: and with that they departed.  
Now so soon as John the Frenchman came home, he moved that matter unto his Master, desiring him that he would do what he could for the Merchant. When his Master had heard each circumstance, noting therewith the want of such commodities in the Land, he cast in his mind as he stood cutting out his work, what was the best to be done in this case, saying to his man John, I will think upon it betwixt this and the morning, and then I will tell you my mind; and therewith casting down his cutting knife, he went out of his Shop into his Chamber, and therein walking up and down alone very sadly, ruminating hereon: he was so far in his muse, that his Wife sending for him to supper two or three times, he nothing regarded the Maids call, hammering this matter in his Head; at last his Wife came to him, saying: Husband, what mean you that you do not come to supper? Why speak you not man? hear you? good Husband come away, your meat will be could: but for all her words he stayed walking up and down still like a man that had sent his wits a Woolgathering, which his wife seeing, pulled him by the sleeve, saying; Why Husband, in the name of God, why come you not, will you not come to supper to night? I called you a good while ago: Body of me, Wife, I promise thee I did not hear thee: No Faith, it seemeth so( quoth she) I marvel whereupon your mind runneth: Believe me Wife( quoth he) I was studying how to make myself Lord Mayor, and thee a Lady.  
Now God help you( quoth she) I pray God make us able to pay every man his own, that we may live out of debt and danger, and drive the wolf from the door, and I desire no more. But Wife, said he, I pray thee now tell me, dost thou not think that thou couldst make a shift to bear the name of a Lady, if it be put upon thee? In truth Husband( quoth she) I'll not dissemble with you, if your wealth were able to bear it, my mind will bear it well enough. Well Wife, replied he, I tell thee now in sadness, that if I had money, there is a commodity now to be bought, the gains whereof would be able to make thee a Gentlewoman for ever. Alas Husband, that dignity your Trade allows you already, being a Squire of the Gentle-Craft, then how can you be less than a Gentleman, seeing your Son is a Prince born? Tush Wife, quoth he, those Titles do only rest in Name, but not in nature: but of that sort I had rather be, whose Lands are answerable to their Virtues, and whose Rents can maintain the greatness of their mind. Then sweet Husband tell me, said his Wife, tell me what commodity is that which you might get so much by? I am sure yourself hath some Money, and it shall go very hard but I'll procure friends to borrow one forty shillings; and beside that, rather than you shall lose so good a bargain, I have a couple of Crowns that saw no Sun since we were first Married, and them also shall you have. Alas Wife,( said Simon) all this comes not near the matter; I confess it would do some good in buying some backs of Leather, but in this thing 'tis nothing, for this is merchandise that is precious at this time, and rare to be had: and I hear, that whosoever will have it, must lay down three hundred pounds ready Money: Yea Wife, and yet thereby he might get three and three thousand pounds profit.  
His wife hearing him say so, was inflamed with the desire thereof, as women are for the most part very covetous: That matter running still in her mind, she could scant find in her heart to spare him time to go to supper, for very eagerness to animate him on to take that Bargain upon him: Wherefore so soon as they had supped and given God thanks, she called her husband, saying: I pray you come hither, I would speak a word with you: That man is not always to be blamed, that sometimes takes counsel of his Wife, though Womens Wits are not able to comprehend the greatest things, yet in doubtful matters they oft help on a sudden.  
Well Wife, what mean you by this;( said her husband) In truth, quoth she, I would have you to pluck up a mans heart, & speedily chop up a bargain for these goods you speak of. Who I, quoth he, which way should I do it? that am not able for three thousand pounds to lay down three thousand pence? Tush man, quoth she, what of that? every man that beholds a man in the face, knows not what he hath in his purse: and whatsoever he be that owes the goods, he will no doubt be content to stay a month for his money, or three weeks at the least: and I promise you, to pay a thousand pounds a week is a pretty round payment, and I may say to you, not much to be misliked of.  
Now husband, I would have you in the morning, with John the Frenchman go to the graecian Merchant, and with good discretion drive a sound bargain with him for the whole freight of the Sip, and thereupon give him half a dozen Angels in earnest, and eight and twenty days after the delivery of the goods, condition to deliver him the rest of his money: But woman( quoth he) dost thou imagine that he will take my word upon so weighty a mass of money, and to deliver his goods upon no better security;  
Good Lord, quoth she, have you not wit in such a case to make shift; I'll tell you what you shall do: Be not known that you bargain for your own self, but tell him that you do it in the behalf of one of the chief Alderman in the City: but beware in any case that you leave with him your name in writing, he being a graecian cannot red English, and you have no need at all to show John the Frenchman, or if you should, it were no matter, for you can tell well enough, that he can neither writ nor red.  
I perceive Wife, quoth he, thou woulst fain be a Lady, and worthy thou art to be one, that dost thus employ thy Wits to bring thy Husband profit: but tell me, if he should be desirous to see the Alderman to confer with him, how shall we do then: Iesus have mercy upon us, quoth she, you say women are fools, but me seemeth men have need to be taught sometimes: Before you come away in the morning, let John the Frenchman tell him, that the Alderman himself shall come to his Lodging in the afternoon, and receiving a note of all the goods that be in the Ship, he shall deliver unto him a Bill of his Hand for the payment of his money, according to that time. Now sweet-heart, quoth she, this Alderman shall be thine own self, and I'll go borrow for thee all things that shall be necessary, against that time. Tush, quoth her Husband, canst thou imagine that he seeing me in the morning, will not know me again the afternoon; Go Husband, quoth she, he will not know thee I warrant thee: for in the morning thou shalt go to him in thy doublet of Sheeps-skin, with a smutched face, and thy Apron before thee, thy Thumb-leather and Hand-leather buckled close to thy wrist, with a foul Band about thy Neck, and a greasy cap on thy Head. Why Woman, quoth he, to go in such sort would be a discredit to me, and make the Merchant doubtful of my dealing: for men of simplo attire, are( God wot) slenderly esteemed.  
Hold your peace good Husband, quoth she, it shall not be so with you, for John the Frenchman shall give such good report to the Merchant for your honest dealing( as I praise God, he can do no less) as the graecian will rather conceive the better of you, than otherwise, judging you a prudent and discreet man, that will not make a show of that you are not, but go in your attire agreeable to your trade. And because none of our folks shall be privy to our intent, to morrow we will dine at my cousin John Barbers, in St. Clements Lane, which is not far from the George in Lumbard-street, where the Merchant stranger lies. Now I'll be sure that all things shall be ready at my cousin John's, that you may put on in the afternoon. And there he shall first of all with his scissors, snap off all the superfluous Hairs and fashion thy bruishy Beard after the Aldermans grave cut: then shall he wash thee with a sweet camphor Ball, and besprinkle thy head and face with the purest Rose-water: then shalt thou scour thy pitchy fingers in a basin of hot water, with an ordinary Washing-Ball: And all this being done, strip thee from these common weeds, & I'll put thee on a very fair doublet of tawny satin, over which thou shalt have a Cassock of branched Damask, furred round the skirts with the finest foins, thy Breeches of black Velvet, and shoes and stockings fit for such array; a band about thy neck as white as the driven snow, and for thy wrists a pretty pair of cuffs and on thy head a cap of the finest black: then shalt thou put on a fair Gown, wel●ed about with Velvet, and overthwart thy back, thwart it shall be with rich foins, with a pair of sweet Gloves on thy hands, and on thy fore-finger a great Seal Ring of Gold.  
Thou being thus attired, I'll entreat my cousin John Barber because he is a very handsome young-man, neat and fine in his apparel, as indeed all Barbers are, that he would take the pains to wait upon you unto the Merchant, as if he were your man, which he will do at the first, because one of you cannot understand the other, so that it will be sufficient with outward courtesy, one to greet another, and he to deliver unto you his note, and you to give him your Bill, and so to come home.  
It doth my heart good to see how trimly this apparel doth become you, in faith Husband, me seem in my mind I see you in it already, & how like an Alderman you will look when you are in this costly array. At your return home from the merchant, you shall put off all these clothes at my Couzins again, and come home as you did go forth: then tell John the Frenchman, that the Alderman was with the Merchant this after-noon, you may sand to him in the morning, & bid him to command that his Ship may be brought down the River: while she is coming about you may give notice to the Linnen-Drapers of the Commodities you have coming. Enough Wife, quoth he, thou hast said enough; and by the grace of God I'll follow thy counsel, and I doubt not but to have good fortune,   

CAHP. XI. How Simon Eyer was sent for to my Lord Mayors to Supper, and showing the great entertainment he and his Wife had there.  
ANon after Supper time drew near, she making her self ready in the best manner she could device, passed along with her Husband unto my Lord Mayors House; and being entred the great Hall, one of the Officers certified my Lord Mayor, that the great rich shoemaker and his Wife were already come. Whereupon the Lord Mayor in courteous manner came into the Hall to Simon, saying: You are most hearty welcome good Master Eyer, and so is your gentle bed-fellow: Then came the Lady Mayoress and saluted them both in like manner, saying: Welcome good Master Eyer, and Mistress Eyer both: and taking her by the hand, set her down among the Gentlewomen there present.  
 
Sir, quoth the Lord Mayor, I understand you are a shoemaker, and that it is you that have bought all the goods of the great Argozy. I am indeed, my Lord, of the Gentle-Craft, quoth he, and I praise God, all the goods of the great Argozy are mine own, when my debts are paid.  
God give you much joy of them, said the Lord Mayor, and I trust you and I shall deal for some part thereof. So the meat being then ready to be brought in, the Guests were placed, each one according to their calling. My Lord Mayor holding Simon by the Hand, and the Lady Mayoress holding his Wife, they needs would have them sit near to themselves, which they then with blushing cheeks refusing, my Lord said unto them, holding his cap in his hand:  
Master Eyer, and mistress Eyer, let me entreat you not to be troublesone, for I tell you it shall be thus: and as for these Gentlemen here present, they are all of mine own acquaintance, and many times we have been together, therefore I dare be the bolder with them, and albeit you are our neighbours also, yet I promise you, you are strangers to my Table: and to strangers, common courtesy doth teach us to show the greatest favour, therefore let me rule you in my own House, and you shall rule me in yours.  
When Simon found there was no remedy, they sat them down, but the poor Woman was so abashed, that she did eat but little meat at the Table, behaving her self at the Table with a comely and modest countenance, but what she wanted in outward feeding, her Heart yielded to her with inward delight and content.  
Now so it was, many men that knew not Simon, and seeing him in so simplo attire sit next my Lord, whisperingly asked one another what he was: and it was enough for Simon's Wife, with her eyes and ears, to see and harken after every thing that was said or done.  
A grave wealthy Citizen sitting at the Table, spake to Simon, and said: Sir, in good will I drink to your good health, but I beseech you pardon me, for I know not how to call your name. With that my Lord Mayor answered him saying: His name is Master Eyer, and this is the Gentleman that bought all the goods that came in the Black Swan of Candy, and before God, though he sit here in simplo sort, for his wealth, I do verily believe, he is more sufficient to bear this place than myself: this was a man that was never thought upon, living obscure amongst us, of none account in the eyes of the World, carrying the countenance but of a shoemaker, and none of the best neither, and is able to deal for a bargain of five thousand pounds at a clap. We do want many such shoemakers( said the Citizen) and so with other discourse driven out Supper: at what time rising from the Table, Simon and his Wife receiving sundry salutations of my Lord Mayor and his Lady, and all the rest of the Worshipful guests, departed home to their own house, at what time his Wife made such a recital of the matters, how bravely they were entertained, what great cheer was there, also what a great company of Gentlemen and Gentlewomen were there, and how often they drank to her Husband and to her, with divers other circumstances, that I believe that if the night had been six months long, as it is under the North pole, they would have found talk enough till morning. Of a truth, quoth she, although I sat close by my Ladies side, I could eat nothing for very joy to hear and see that we were so much made of: And never give me credit husband, if I did not hear the Officers whisper as they stood behind me, & all demanded one of another what you were and what I was: O, quoth one, do you see this man? mark him well, and mark his Wife well, that simplo Woman that sits next my Lady, what are they? what are they? quoth another: mary this is the rich shoemaker that bought all the goods in the great Argozy; I tell you there was never such a shoemaker seen in London since the City was builded.  
Now by my faith, quoth the third, I have heard much of him to day among the Merchants in the streets, going between the two Chains. Credit me Husband, of mine honesty, this was their communication. Nay, & do you not remember when the rich Citizen drank to you( which craved pardon because he knew not your name) what my Lord Mayor said: Sir, quoth he, his name is Master Ever: did you mark that? and presently thereupon he added these words: This is the Gentleman that bought, & so forth: The Gentleman understood you: did you hear him speak that word?  
In troth Wife, quoth he, my Lord uttered many good words of me, I thank his honour, but I heard not that. No, quoth she, I heard it well enough, for by and by he proceeded further, saying: I suppose though he sit here in simplo sort, he is more sufficient to bear this charge than myself. Yea, though I, he may thank his Wife for that, if it come to pass. Nay, said Simon, I thank God for it. Yea, and next him, you may thank me, quoth she: And it did her so much good to talk of it, that I suppose if she had lived till this day, she would yet be prating thereof, and if sleep did not drive her from it.  
And now seeing that Simon the shoemaker is become a Merchant, we will temper our tongue to give him the Title which his customers were wont to do, and from henceforth call him Master Eyer, who while he had his affairs in hand, committed the government of his shop to John the Frenchman, leaving him to be guide to his other Servants; by means of which favour, John thought himself at that time to be a man of no small reputation.   

CHAP. XII. How John the Frenchman fell in love with one of his Mistrisses Maids, and how he was crossed through the craft of hance the Dutchman.  
 
AT the same time there was dwelling in the House a jolly Wench, whose name was Florence, whom John the Frenchman loved dearly well, and for her only sake he brought many a good Bottle of Wine into the House, & therewith so soon as their Master and mistress were gone to bed, they would oftentimes make merry amongst themselves, which hance a journeyman in the same House perceiving, sought to cross him as much as in him lay, thereby to bring his own purpose the better to pass, which was to join the Maidens favours to his own affections.  
And because the Frenchman had the greatest gains under his Master, and being thereof no niggard when he had got it, the Maid did most delight in him, and little esteemed the Dutchman, though his good will was as great towards her as the other: for they could not be in any corner of the House together, nor could they meet in any place abroad, but the Dutchman would still watch them.  
Vpon a time Florence being at Market, her Love John went forth of the Shop to meet her, and hance stayed not long behind, who at length espied them, and heard his fellow John questioning with her in this sort:  
What Florence, what have you in your Basket? hea, let me see what you buy, mary John, quoth she, I have bought Beef & Mutton, & other things: Come, come must you péep in my Basket, quoth she, away for shane, away. Be Cot Florence, me will see a little, ha, ha! Florence, you buy de pudding: hea, you love de puddings Florence, hea? Yea Sir, quoth she, what if I do love pudding, what care you: of my tra Florence, if I be your husband, me will give you pudding shall warren. My husband, quoth she, in faith Sir, no, I mean not to mary a Frenchman: What Florence, de Frenchman be de good man: but Flor. me will give you a point of wine by me treat.  
O I cannot stay now, I thank you John. What, quoth he, Florence, no stay with your friend, I shall make you stay a little time: & so with that, taking her by the hand, into the Tavern they go,; and hance the Dutchman following them, sat closely in the next room, & by that means he heard all that they said, and that they appointed the next Sunday to go to Islinton together, and there to be merry, and so the Maid hasting away, they departed.  
Well, quoth hance secretly to himself, it shall go hard but I'll disappoint you, Sunday in the afternoon being come, John the Frenchman, according to his appointment, went before to Islington, leaving Florence to come after with another Maid, which dwelled in the same House, whilst he prepared good cheer for their coming; and the more to make her merry, he hired a noise of Musicians to attend their pleasure.  
And as it after happened, his fellow hance prevented this sport, who watching in the Fields for Florence, at length he spied her coming: to whom he said, Well met fair Florence, your friend John hath changed his mind, for whereas he appointed you to meet him at Islington, you shall lose your labour so to do, for he is not there. No, how so; said Florence. The reason is, said hance, so far as I can understand by him, he thinks you are very fickle and unconstant, and because it was his chance this morning to see you speak to a young man that passed by, he saith verily, that you are a marvelous great dissembler, and in this humour he is gone I know not whither.  
And is it even so, said Florence: I'll tell thee what hance, because he hath made thee privy to his mind, I will show thee somewhat of mine: Doth he suspect me because I did but speak to one: Nay, if he be so jealous now, what will he be hereafter? and therefore insomuch as it is so, let him go to the Devil, he shall very well find that I will set as light by him as he doth by me. Did the Knave get leave of my mistress for me to come abroad this day, and doth he now serve me thus? Well, this shall teach me Wit in faith, and so she turns back again.  
Nay, qd hance, seeing now you are abroad, let me entreat you to go to Hogsden, and I will bestow a mess of Cream upon you. In the end she was won, and as they walked together, hance spoken thus unto her: I know not what cause John the Frenchman hath given you to bear him so good will, as I perceive you do, but in my mind he is a far unméet match for you. And thus much I know, he is of a very mistrustful nature, a wavering mind, and deceitful heart: he did profess great good, will to you in outward show, but I have heard him speak most shamefully of you behind your back, making his vaunts that he had you at a beck of his finger and ●ow that for a pint of Wine he could cause you to follow him up and down all over the City: Florence, I am a fool to tell you thus much, it may be you will scarce believe it, and for my part I will not urge you thereunto: but in troth, look what I tell you, it is for good will, because I have been sorry to see you abused.  
I thank you good hance, quoth she, I may believe it well enough, but from henceforth I know what I have to do: I con●ess indeed that I have drank with him abroad, but it was at his own earnest entreaty, neither could I ever be quiet for the Knave, he doth so follow me up and down in every place: but seeing I know his dissimulation to be such, if I do not requited him in his kind, trust me no more and now I am hearty sorry that I was so foolish as to follow him this day at his appointment, but seeing he hath served me thus, he shall not know of my coming out of doors, and therefore good hance do not tell him you met me this day in the fields.  
Now in faith Florence( quoth he) I will not only be secret to thee, but will also from henceforth acquaint thee with all my proceedings. And having eaten their Cream, hance brought her some part of the way homeward; and taking his leave of her, he went back to see if he could meet with John the Frenchman, who having stayed at Islington for Florence until almost night, and she not coming, he and the musicans together were fain to eat up the meat without more company, which caused John the Frenchman to swear like a Turk.  
And as he was coming homeward over the field, chasing and freting to himself, who should he meet withal but hance the Dutchman, who said to him: What John, who thought to meet you here: Here thou seest I am now said John, but when come you from home? mary but even, now quoth hance. And who is at home, said John, The other answered, there was no body but their mistress, and the Maid Florence, with the rest of the household? Is Florence at home, said John? the Devil take her for me, she hath made a right fool of me indeed. How so, quoth hance: Then the other in a great chafe said: Be Got shall revenged, Florence make on me too much, too much, she make me believe she love me, & methink so too: and be Got she make me a jack fool. When hance heard him say so, he said: Alas good John she love thee! if you think so, you are greatly deceived, for she is the scoffingest Quean in London, and I have heard her behind your back, to mock and flout you, saying: Doth shitten John think that I will mary him, in faith Sir no▪ When the Frenchman heard this, he stamped like a mad man, and bit his thumb, saying: Mordue me shall be revenged he Got: shitten John call a shitten John, hea: Adeput in corroyn, ame shan't, shitten John; no better name but shitten John? It is as I tell you, quoth hance: & moreover, she said, she scorned to come after you to Islington, saying: she would see you hanged first. Well, be no matter, she no love me, me no love she, but me shall go home, me shall, and beat her like a Stock-fish: Nay, do not so, saith hance, but let her alone, for it is no credit for you to beat a Woman: and besides that, if you should, our Master would turn you out of doors, therefore be quiet a while, and be secret in that I have  told you, then shall you see how she useth you.  
In this humour they departed, at what time John full of melancholy stood frowning by the fires side, and as the Maid went up and down the House about her business, he casts looks on her as fierce as a Panther: but she by reason of the Dutchmans tale to her, shows her self as scornful as he was churlish, and not once cast her eye toward him, and thus they driven on the time for a senight or fortnight.   

CHAP. XIII. How Master Eyer was called upon to be Sheriff of London, and how he held his place with Worship.  
 
IN this space Master Eyer following his business, had sold so much of his merchandise as paid the graecian his whole money, & yet had resting to himself three times as much as he had sold, wherefore he frusted some of it to one Alderman and some to another, & a great deal amongst substantial Merchants: & for some had much ready money, which he employed in divers merchandises, & became adventurer at Sea having( by Gods blessing) many prosperous voyages, so that his riches daily increased.  
It chanced upon a time, that being in his study casting up his accounts, he found himself to be clearly worth twelve or thirteen thousand pounds: which he finding to be so, called his Wife to him, and said:  
The last day I did cast up my accounts, and I find that Almighty God of his goodness, hath lent me thirteen thousand pounds to maintain us in our old age, for which his gracious goodness towards us, let us with whole hearts give his glorious Majesty eternal praise, and therewith pray unto him, that we may so dispose thereof, as may be to his Honour, and the Comfort of his poor members on earth, and above our Neighbors we may not be puffed up with pride, that while we think on our Wealth, we forget God that sent it us: for it hath been an old saying of a wise man: That abundance groweth from riches, and disdain out of abundance: of which God give us grace to take heed, and grant us a contented mind.  
So soon as he had spoken this, he heard one hastily knocking at door, whereupon he sent Florence to see who it was, the Maiden coming again,  told her Master it was one of my Lord Mayors Officers, that would speak with him. The Officer being permitted to come in: after due reverence, he said: Sir, it hath pleased my Lord Mayor, with the Worshipful Aldermen his Brethren; with the council of the whole Commonalty of the Honourable City, to choose your Worship Sheriff of London this day, and have sent me to desire you to come and certify your mind therein, whether you be contented to hold the place or no.  
Master Eyer hearing this, answered: he would come to his Honour, and their worships incontinent, and resolve them what he was minded to do: and so the Officer departed.  
His Wife( which all this while listened to their talk) hearing how the case stood, with a joyful countenance meeting her Husband, taking him about the neck, with a loving kiss, said: Master Sheriff, God sand thee joy of thy name and place. O Wife( qd he) my person is far unworthy of that place, & the name far excéeds my degree.  
What, content yourself good Husband, quoth she, and disable not yourself in such sort, but be thankful unto God for what you have, & do not spurn at such promotion as God sendeth you: The Lord be praised for it, you have enough to discharge the place whereunto you are called with credit: and wherefore sendeth God goods, but therewith to do him and your Country service? Woman( quoth he) soft fire makes sweet malt; for such as take things in hand rashly, repent it suddenly: to be Sheriff of London is no little cost. Consider first, quoth he, what house I ought to have, and what costly ornaments belong thereunto; as hangings of Tapestry, cloath of Arras, and other such like, what store of Plate, and goblets of Gold, what costly attire, and what a chargeable train, and that which is most of all, how greatly I stand charged beside to our sovereign Lord the King, for answering of such prisoners as shall be committed to my custody, with a hundred matters of such importance, which are to such an Office belonging.  
Good Lord Husband, quoth she, what need all these repetitions? you need not tell me it is a matter of great charge: Notwithstanding, I verily think many heretofore have with great credit discharged the place, whose wealth hath not in any sort been answerable to your riches, and whose wits have been as mean as your own: Truly Sir, shall I be plain? I know not any thing that is to be spoken of, that you want to perform it, but only your good will, and to lack good will to do your King and Country good, were a sign of an unworthy subject, which I hope you will never be.  
Well Wife( said her Husband) thou hast held me here with prittle prattle, while the time passeth on, it is high time I were gone to Guild-hall I doubt I shall appear too unmannerly in causing my Lord Mayor, and the rest to stay my leisure. And he having made himself ready, meet to go before such an Assembly as he went unto, he went out of doors, at what time his Wife called after him, saying, and holding up her finger.  
Husband, remember, you know what I have said: take heed you dissemble not with God and the world, look to it Husband: go, get you in quoth he, about your business, and so away he went.  
So soon as he was gone out of sight, his Wife sent one of his men after him, to Guild-hall, to harken and hear whether he held his place or no; And if he do, bring me word with all possible speed.  
I will mistress, quoth her man.  
Now when Mr. Eyer came to Guild-hall, the Lord Mayor & his brethren had him hearty welcome, saying: Sir, the Commonalty of the City having a good opinion of you, have chosen you for one of the Sheriffs for this year, not doubting but to find you a fit man for the place.  
My good Lord, quoth he, I humbly thank the City for their courtesy and kindness, and would to God my wealth were answerable to my good will, and my ability were able to bear it: but I find myself insufficient: I most humbly desire a years respite more, and pardon for this present.  
At these words a grave Commoner of the City standing up, with due reverence, spake thus unto the Mayor: My good Lord, this is but a slender excuse for Mr. Eyer to make, for I have often heard him say, and so have divers others also, that he hath a Table in his house, whereon he breaks his fast every day, that he will not give for a thousand pound: wherefore( under your Lordships correction) in my simplo judgement, I think he that is able to spare a thousand pounds in such a dead chomodity, is very sufficient to be Sheriff of London. See you now, quoth my Lord, I muse Mr. Eyer, that you would have so lame an excuse before us, as to make exception at your own wealth, which is apparently proved sufficient: you must know Mr. Eyer, that the Commons of London have searching eyes, and seldom they are deceived in their opinion, and therefore look what is done, you must stand to it.  
I beseech you my Lord, quoth Mr. Eyer, give me leave to speak one word: Let it be granted, that I will not give my Table whereon I break my fast, for a thousand pounds, that is no consequence to prove it is worth so much, my fancy to the thing is all; for doubtless no man here would give me a thousand shillings for it, when they see it. All is one for that, quoth my Lord Mayor, yet I dare give you as much wine as you will spend this year in your Shrivalty, to let me have it: My good Lord, quoth he, on that condition I will hold my place, and rest no longer troublesone to this company. You must hold, said my Lord, without any condition or exceptions at all in this matter: And so they ended.  
The Assembly being then broken up, the voice went, Mr. Eyer is Sheriff, Mr. Eyer is Sheriff. Whereupon the fellow that mistress Eyer sent to observe how things framed, ran in all hast, and with leaping and rejoicing, said: mistress, God give you joy, for you are now a Gentlewoman. What, quoth she, tell me, Sir sauce, is thy Master Sheriff or no? and doth he hold his place? yea mistress, he holds his Place now, as fast as the Stirrup doth the shoe while we sow it: Why then, quoth she, I have my Hearts desire, and that I so long looked for. And so away she went,  
Within a while after came her Husband, and with him one of the Aldermen and a couple of wealthy Commoners, one of them was be that gave such great commendation of his Table: and coming to his door, he said: You are welcome home good Master Sheriff. Nay, I pray you come in and drink with me before you go.  
Then said he, Wife, bring me forth the pastry of Venison, and set me here my little Table, that these Gentlemen may eat a bit with me before they go. His Wife, which had been often used to this term, excused the matter, saying: the little Table! good Lord Husband, I do wonder what you will do with the little Table now, knowing that is used already: I pray you good Husband content yourself, and sit at the great Table this once. Then she whispered him in the ear, saying: What man, shall we shane ourselves: What shane, quoth he? tell not me of shane, but do thou as thou art bidden: for we are three or four of us, then what do we trouble the great Table: Truly( answered she) the little Table is not ready now, good Husband let it alone.  
Trust me we are troublesone guests( said the Aldermen) but yet we would fain see your little Table because it is said to be of such a price. Yea, and it is my mind you shall, quoth Master Eyer, therefore he called his Wife again, saying: Good Wife, dispatch and prepare the little Table, for these Gentlemen would fain have a view of it.  
Whereupon, his wife seeing him so earnest, according to her wonted manner, came in, and setting her self down on a low stool laid a fair Napkin over her knees, and set the Platter with the pastry of Venison thereupon: and presently a Chair was brought for Master Alderman, & a couple of low stools for the two Commoners, which they beholding, with a sudden and hearty Laughter, said: Why Master Sheriff, is this the Table you held so dear? Yes truly, quoth he: Now verily,( quoth they) you herein have utterly deceived our expectation. Even so did you mine, quoth he, in making me Sheriff: but you are all right welcome: and I tell you true, had I not thought wondrous well of you, you had not seen my Table now. And I think did my Lord Mayor see it as you do, he would repent his bargain so hastily made. Notwithstanding, I account my Table never the worse: nor have you any cause( quoth they). And so after much pleasant talk they departed, spreading the famed of Master Sheriff, Table over the whole City.  
But you must now imagine that a thousand cares cumbered the Sheriff, in providing all things necessary for his Office: at what time he put off his shoemakers shop to one of his men, and set up at the same time the sign of the Black-Swan swimm ng upon the Sea, in remembrance of that Ship that first did bring him his Wealth: and before that time the Sign of the Black Swan was never seen or known in any place in or about the City of London.   

CHAP. XIV. How hance having circumvented John the Frenchmans love, was by him and others finely deceived at the Garden.  
NOw at that time John the Frenchman and fair Florence were both at variance, as you heard before by the Dutchmans dealing, by which subtlety he sought means to win favour for himself, which John the Frenchman perceived, and therefore went about not only to prevent him, but to take revenge on him for his deceitfulness: and meeting Florence as she went into the garden for Flowers, he began to talk thus unto her.  
 
What Florence, you go to the Garden? and how then, quoth she? what have you to say to that? Me sea nothing, but you be discontent: you no speak a me; you no look a me; nor you no drink with me, nor nothing: ah Florence, how chance dat?  
Go get thee hence prattling fool, quoth she, I drink with thee, thou shall be Py-peckt first. Py-peckt! what be Py-peckt? a hea: Begot Florence, you make me a Jacknape, you mock a me, and call be shitten John, and you be so proud, because hance love you, dat shall be marvel: but and if you call me shitten John any more, on my say shall not put up, shall not take at your hands.  
Who  told you that I called you shitten John( quoth Florence,) I never called you so. No Florence, you no call me a shitten John, also me shan't villain pulard hance tell ame so. I never said so, quoth Florence. But hance  told me that you made your boast that I was at a beck of your finger: and that you could make me follow you up and down the whole City for a Pint of Wine. No, I would you should well understand, I will not follow a better man than you. O, of my fet Florence, me never said so. No; yes, quoth she, but you did, I can tell you by a good token, for that very time that I should have met you at Islington you said it, and made me a fool to come over the fields to you; and when all came to all, you sent hance to tell, that you were gone there-hence long ago.  
Abcet token hance, quoth John, beads ten bon, 'tis true, for me tarry dere more den one, two, three hour, and had provide shapon de rabit, de cream, de pudding-pye, and twenty dings more: well, howsoever it was, I am sure I was made an Ass betwixt you, and for that cause I will beware how I show kindness again to any: therefore John I pray you be gone, and seek some other company, for you shall not go with me. No, said John: well den adieu Florence, and so they departed.  
Now it is be be understood, that hance had promised Florence to meet her in the Garden, and to bring with him a bottle of Wine, and there in the presence of a Maid or two more, to make themselves sure together; and she for that purpose had carried with her the corner of a Venison pastry. But there was an English journeyman in the house, called Nicholas, that ●… stood thereof, who meeting with John the French-men, he made him pr●… thereunto, saying: Trust me John, if thou wilt be ruled by me, we will not only disappoint this match, but also with their good cheer make ourselves merry: John, who was glad and ready to do the Dutch-man an injury, consented to follow Nicholas his counsel in any thing.  
Then, quoth Nicholas, it shall be thus: I will go to the Garden, and stay for hance his coming with the Wine, and in the mean space do thou hid thyself under one of the hedges of the Garden on the other side, and with thee take a couple of Pots, and let the one be empty, and the other filled with water; and when hance is come into the Garden with his Bottle of Wine( now he will not let me see it by his good will, notwithstanding) I'll observe where he doth set it down, and then I will find the means, while they are busy in toying and talking, to convey the bottle of Wine through the hedge to thee, and likewise the Venison: then emptying the bottle, thou shalt fill it with water, and thrusting it through the hedge again, it shall be set where it first was found: which being done, thou shalt hastily rap at the door, at what time they shall be  told that it is our Master or mistress; which they hearing, will be in such a maze, that on a sudden they will not know which way to turn themselves, especially for the conveying away of hance: Now when you have knocked twice or thrice, and that you hear no body come to the door, get you away, and stay for me at the Rose at Barking, and there we will drink up their Wine, and eat up their Venison: and this being done we will laugh them to scorn.  
Truly Nicholas, quoth John the Frenchman, this will be brave: And thereupon they prepared themselves to do the feat. Nicholas therefore got him into the Garden, and by and by after comes hance with the bottle of Wine, who knocking at the Garden door was strait let in: but seeing Nicholas there, he secretly set his bottle in a corner, but neck who had as searching eyes as Argus in his business, quickly did as before he had determined: and instead of Wine, set the bottle down again, where he had found it full of Water.  
Then comes John and lustily knocks at the door: There is our Master and mistress,( quoth Nicholas) Alas quoth she, get you over the hedge. Shall I open the door? quoth neck. O no, said Florence, not yet good neck. With that he knocked more hastily: Anon, anon, quoth he. Hence hance: go to the door neck. Who is there? quoth he, and with that opening the door, he found just no body. Truly Florence, said he, they are gone whosoever they were. God be with you, I can stay no longer.  
When he was departed, the Maids wished that hance had been there again. Alas, poor fellow, quoth they, he is gone and left his bottle behind him? mary I am glad that it is no worse, quoth Florence: and now that the Wine is here, we will drink it for his sake, and I have here a morsel of Venison, that will give it a good relish: And therewith looking for it, she found the cloath, but the meat was gone. Now a vengeance on it, quoth she, one scurvy Cur or other hath got into the Garden and took away the meat.  
O God, what ill luck is that( quoth the Maid) a murrain on that Cur that got it: but seeing it is gone, farewell it. Well, said Florence, here is the Wine yet, I know it is excellent good, for he  told me he would bring a bottle of the best Rhenish Wine that could be bought in London, and I am certain he is as good as his word: But believe me Ione, he is kind hearted, and as loving a fellow as ever professed love to any. I assure you that here is a cup of Wine that the King may drink thereof: But how shall we do for a glass? weel drink it out of the bottle, said Ione. Not so, quoth Florence, I do love to see what I drink, and therefore I'll borrow a glass at the next house. And while she goes for a glass, said Ione to her self, I'll have a taste of it before she returns again: then setting her hand unto the bottle, and the bottle unto her mouth, she drank a good draft, and finding it be to be something thin in going down, she said to Bess that sat by, Credit me now, but for the name of Wine I have drank as good Water. It is Rhenish-Wine, quoth Bess, and that is never strong. It may be made of Rain, well enough, quoth joan. At which words Florence entred with a glass: and pouring it out into a glass, she extolled the colour, saying: See what a brave colour it hath? it is as clear, I do assure you, as the Rock-Water: and there-withal drinking it off, she said, It drinks very dead: Of a truth, quoth she, this is but bad Wine, it is even as dead as a door nail: And so filling the glass again she gave it unto Bess, she tasting thereof, said: Passion of me, this is plain Water. Water, said joan, Is it Water? Let me taste it once again, by my Maiden-head it is Water indeed quoth she. Water, said Florence, you have played the Drabs in drinking out the Wine, and filled the Bottle again with Water. Of my faith, quoth Ione, you say not true in so saying: I would you did understand, we played not the Drabs in any such sort, but hance rather played the Knave, that brought us water instead of Wine. Nay, quoth Florence, I dare swear for him, that he would not serve you so for all the wealth my Master is worth: And I am persuaded, that it was no body but yourselves that did it: But in faith, you might have dealt so with another, and not with me. Nay then( quoth they) you need not serve us so, to cause us to drink Water instead of Wine: and we would you should think, although you be Master Sheriffs Maid, we do love our mouths as well as you do yours for your life, and it was but a homely recompense for our good will, I tell you true, neither do we care how lit le we come to be thus deluded. Go to, go to, said Florence, you are like to Penelope's Puppy, that doth both bite and whine: I know you well enough. Know us( quoth joan) What do you know by us? We defy you for any thing you can say by us. Know us; Nay, it were well if thou didst know thyself: and hearest thou, though thou hast thy companions to meet thee at thy pleasure, and we have not: No, know us: We are known to be as honest as thou art, or else we should be sorry: And so they departed in a chafe.  
Now John the Frenchman, and Nicholas, having eaten the Venison, and drunk up the Wine, came back again time enough to hear all this strife, whereat they greatly rejoiced: but so soon as Florence did meet with hance again, she kept no small stir for mocking her with a bottle of Water, about the which they fell at variances, in such sort that they were not friends for a long time after.  
But during the time that hance was out of favour, Nicholas sought the Maids friendship by all the means he might, but in vain was his pains spent therein: for although Florence outwardly seemed much displeased, yet hance had her Heart still, and in process of time obtained great favour the matter was grown so forward, that the perform once of their Marriage was forthwith appointed, which they intended should be celebrated at the abbey of Grace on Tower-hill. Notwithstanding, this matter was not kept so close, but that their secret dealings were known, and Nicholas purposing to deceive the Dutchman, made John the Frenchman privy thereunto, saying: John, it is so, that this night at midnight Mass Florence and hance do intend secretly to be Married, and they have appointed the friar to do it as soon as the Tapers are all put out, because they will not be seen of any: therefore John if now you will be my friend, I doubt not but to mary her myself, and so to give the Dutchman the Slampam, and bore him through the nose with a cushion. Ha( qd John) be Got me shall do as you sea: and therefore Nicholas tell me what you do? mary John, qd he, you know the Dutchman loveth to drink well, and by that he loveth, weel cause him to lose his love: for we will get him out to the Tavern, and there cause him to be disguised, that he shall be neither able to stand or go. John the French-man hearing this, scratching his head, and rubbing his elbow, said: Masoy, Nicholas, dis be the Fine tricks, how shall we get him forth a doors. Excellent well, quoth Nicholas, for there is a new Journey-man come to Town with St. Hugh's bones at his back, and you know that he being of the Gentle-Craft, must go to give him his welcome; and I will tell hance thereof, who being now very jocund, by reason that his Marriage is so near, will not deny to come I know. Therefore you and the strange Journey-man shall go before to the Tavern, and then I will go fetch him. Abeene, content, content, said John.  
And so to the Tavern he hasted with the strange man. Anon comes Nicholas and hance, and with them two or three Journey-men more, and all to the new Journey-man: sitting down they got hance in the midst, called for wine lustily, and such varieties, as the Dutchman was soon set packing: for every one sought to toothache him; and being himself of a good kind to take his liquour, spared not to pledge every man. At what time, in the midst of his Cups, being well whitled, his tongue ran at random( as Wine is the bewrayer of secrets) so it proved by him, for there he opened to his companions all his mind, saying: My hearts, for all I sit here, I must be a married man ere the morning. God give you joy( quoth they) but who shall you mary, said neck: Florence? Yea, Florence, said the Dutchman, that is the Lass that I do love, and all the world cannot deceive me of her now, I am the man that must have her Maiden-head, and this night we must be married at the abbey of Grace, and if you be good fellows, go with me to Church: will you go with me? will we gad with thee( said John the French-man) that we will. O John( said hance) I have wiped your nose and Nicks too, you must wear the Willow Garland. Well, what remedy( quoth they) it is the better for you: But in faith hance, seeing it is so,( quoth neck) we'l have one pottle of Wine more, that we may drink to the health of your Bride. I'll pledge her if it be a gallon( quoth hance). By my fet and trot, said John, will have a gallon: be a Drawer, where be you: I pray you bring me a gallon of de best Claret, and a gallon of de best Sack; shall make merry I fet: What! Florence be mary and I no know: But by this time that this Wine was drank, hance was laid up for walking any more that night. When neck perceived that, he stolen suddenly out of the Tavern, and went to meet Florence at the appointed place: but John quickly missing him, knew strait whereabout he went, & got him presently to the Constable of the Postern-Gate, and  told him, that neck had laid a man for dead in Tower-street, & that he was gone to save himself under the privilege of the abbey of Grace? But, quoth he, if you will go along, I shall bring him out with fair words unto you, and then I desire you to clap him up to answer this matter in the morning. But where dwell you! said the Constable? I do dwell with Master Alderman Eyer( quoth John) and there you shall have me at all times. The Constable did as John bad him, & committed Nicholas to Prison. In the mean space, Florence, & an old woman of Tower-street, said: they did go to a Womans labour, & by that means they passed along by the Watch, and to the abbey of Grace they came: they had not long been there, but that John the Frenchman meeting them, said: Florence, Well met, here is a fit place to finish that I have long looked for: John( quoth she) thou art like an evil Spirit, that must be conjured out, before a body shall get any q●… etness: urge not me upon any such matters, for you be not the man I look for: and therefore, taking as little pleasure in your presence, as of your proffers, I would be very glad to see your back. What said ●ohn, have you no compassion on a poor man: you are hard hearted indeed. But as he was uttering these speeches, it was his Wives chance to bear his tongue, being newly come from the Barge at Billing-sgate, and at that time going towards St. Katharines, to see if she could meet with some of her Country-folks that could tell her any tidings of her Husband; but as I said, hearing his tongue, and knowing him by his speech, she said: What▪ John Denevale! My Husband, John Denevale, what make you wed pretty wench? hea: At these words, John was strike into such a dumb, that he wist not what to say: notwithstanding, hearing Florence to ask if she was his Wife, he answered, and said, Yea. O thou dissembling fellow! quoth she, is it even so? didst thou not say thou wast a bachelor; seeking to mary me, and hast a Wife alive? Now fie on thee: O good Lord! how was I blessed to escape him! Nay, now I see that hance may have a Wife in Flanders too, although he be here! and therefore by the grace of God I will not mary a stranger. O, quoth John! I thought my Wife had been dead, but seeing she is alive, I will not lose her for twenty thousand Crowns. So Florence departed, and left John with his Wife.  
Now hance never waking until it was next day at noon, when he saw he had overslept himself, being very sorry, he went home, not knowing how to excuse his folly to Florence, whom she now utterly forsook, as well in regard of his drunkenness, as for that being a stranger, he might( like John the Frenchman have another Wife living. But Nicholas( that all this while lay in Prison) being brought before Alderman Eyer, rehearsed the Truth, and craving pardon for his Offence, was without any more ado delivered: And Florence being called before him, he made up the match between her and his Man Nicholas, marrying them out of his own house with credit, giving them a good stock to begin the World withal: also for John the Frenchman did very much: and shewed himself a good Master to his Man hance, and to all the rest of his Servants.   

CAHP. XV. How Master Alderman Eyer was chosen Lord Mayor of London, and how he feasted the Apprentices on Shrove-tuesday.  
 
WIthin a few years after, Alderman Eyer being chosen Lord Mayor of London, changing his Copy, he became one of the Worshipful company of Drapers, and for this year be kept a most bountiful house. At this time it came into his mind what a promise once he made to the Prentices, being at breakfast with them at their going to the Conduit, speaking to his Lady in this wise: Good Lord( quoth he) what a change have we had within these thirty years? and how greatly hath the Lord blessed us since that! blessed be his Name for it.  
I do remember when I was a young apprentice, what a match I did make upon a Shrovetuesday Morning, being at the Conduit among other of my Companions: trust me Wife( quoth he) it is worth the hearing, and I'll tell thee how it fell out.  
After we had filled our Tankards with Water, there was some would needs have me set down my Tankard, and go with them to Breakfast( as many times before I had done) to which I consented, and it was to a breakfast of Pudding-Pies, I shall never forget it: but to make short, when the shot came to be paid, each one drew out his money, but I had not one penny in my Purse, and credit I had none in the place; which when I beholded, being ashamed, I said, Well my Masters, do you give me my Breakfast this time, and in requital thereof, if ever I be Lord Mayor of London, I'll bestow a Breakfast on all the Prentices of the City: These were the words, little thinking( God wot) that ever it should come to pass: but such was the great goodness of our God, who setteth up the humble, and pulleth down the proud, to bring whom he pleaseth to the seat of Honour: For as the Scripture witnesseth, Promotion cometh neither from the East, nor from the West, but from him who is the giver of all good things, the mighty Lord of Heaven and Earth.  
Wherefore Wife, seeing God hath bestowed that upon me, that I never looked for, it is reason that I should perform my promise, and being able now I'll pay that which then I was not able to do: for I would not have men say, that I am like the Ebontree, that neither bears Leaves nor Fruit. Wherefore Wife, seeing that Shrovetuesday is so near at hand, I will upon that day fulfil my promise which upon that day I made. Truly My Lord,( quoth she) I will be right willing thereunto. Then answered my Lord, as thou dost love me, let them want neither Pudding-Pies nor Pancakes; and look what other good cheer is to be had, I will refer all to your discretion.  
Hereupon great provision was made for the Prentices breakfast: and Shrovetuesday being come, the Lord Mayor sent word to the Aldermen, that in their several Wards they should signify his mind to the Citizens, to crave their favours that their Prentices might come to his house to Breakfast, and that for his sake they might play all the day after.  
Hereupon it was ordered, that at the ringing of a Bell in every Parish, the Prentices should leave work, and shut up their shops for that day; which being ever since yearly observed, is called the Pancake Bell. The Prentices being all assembled, my Lord Mayors house was not able to hold them, they were such a multitude: so that besides the great Hall, all the Gardens were set with Tables, and in the Backside Tables were set, and every other place was also furnished, so that at length they were all placed: and while meat was bringing in, to delight their ears, as well as to feed their bodies, and to drown the noise of their Pratlings, Drums and Trumpets were pleasantly sounded: that being ended, the Waits of the City, with divers other sorts of music, played also to beguile the time, and to put off all discontent.  
After the first service, were all the Tables plentifully furnished with Pudding pies and Pancakes in very plentiful manner; and the rest that remained was given to the poor; Wine & Ale in very great measure they had given, insomuch that they had no lack nor excess to cause them to be disordered And in the midst of this their merriment, the Lord Mayor in his Scarlet Gown, and his Lady in like manner, went in amongst them, bidding them all hearty Welcome: saying unto them. That his promise so long ago made, he hath at length performed. At what time they in token of thankfulness flung up their Caps, giving a great shout, and in continently they all quietly departed.  
Then after this Sir Simon Eyer builded Leaden-Hall, appointing that in the mid●… thereof there should be a Market-place kept every monday for Leather, where the shoemakers of London, for their more ease, might buy of the Tanners without seeking any further. And in the end this worthy man ended his life in London with great honour.    


A New Love-Sonnet.  Maid. 

ALL hail sweet youth, fair Venus graft,  
Chief Master of the Gentle-Craft;  
How Comely seek'st thou in my sight?  
Like Phebus in the Heavens bright;  
That never was in Cupid's pound,  
Or from his Shaft received a wound:  
Thy mind with mirth it doth appear,  
And so thy Love is free from grief & ear.   shoemakers. 

Fair Maid you speak no more but truth:  
For why, the freedom of my youth,  
I value at too high a rare,  
To link myself with any mate;  
There is no comfort on the earth,  
Compared to a free born mirth:  
When fairest beauties me ore-thwart,  
I look the better to my heart.   

When beautous Nymphs do me surprise,  
I shut the Casements of my eyes,  
For he is a fond and foolish Else,  
That loves a Maid, losing himself:  
To fall in love is such a thing,  
From whence sometimes doth mischief spring;  
I wish well unto women-kind,  
But for to wed I have no mind.   Maid. 

What if your Casements chance to ope,  
And give affection so much scope,  
As to encounter with a Dame:  
Why then methinks it were a shane  
For you to love and noc to speak,  
And by degrees the Ice to break,  
But if you speak and so obtain,  
Then have you found your heart again.   

It were a shane for Maids to wooe;  
But men may speak, and so may you,  
If that occasion offered be,  
God Cupid's blind and cannot see,  
But shoots at random here and there,  
O therefore Comund have a care,  
At unawares you may be hit,  
No Policy can hinder it.   

But, O unhappy women kind;  
That toxicated are in mind,  
And know not how to vent the same,  
Without the loss of our good name:  
They count us bold if now and than  
We do but look upon a man;  
And look we may, but dare not speak,  
Much less our mind unto them break.   shoemaker. 

Would I were worthy for to know  
The cause of this your grief and woe;  
For why? your words and looks declare  
Your mind is overcharged with care;  
If that your heart be fled away,  
And it be taken for a stray,  
The Man that hath it, I'll persuade  
To take some pity on a Maid.   

This Young man struck this fair Maid mute;  
She wanted one to pled her svit.  
Fain would she speak but was afraid,  
This is the case of many a Maid;  
He was the man whom she loved best,  
Her Heart did lodge within his Breast,  
Although to him it was unknown,  
Until at last he lost his own.   

Cupid the God of Love came down,  
And on this Young Man cast a frown,  
He bent his bow, and sent a dart,  
That struck the Young man to the Heart,  
And cause the Maid should win the prise,  
He opened the shoemakers eyes:  
So when her beauty he beholded,  
He gladly yielded up the field.   

With folded arms along he walked.  
And thus unto himself he talked,  
O what are we that vainly trust,  
In our weak strengths that are but dust:  
I dust have sworn no living wight,  
Could move me from my sweet delight:  
But now I see and feel the smart,  
Mine eyes to soon deceive my heart.   

He that before was grown so stout,  
And strong enough to keep love out,  
Is vanquished now made to yield,  
And did both win and lose the field:  
He conquered her to him unknown.  
She conquered him, made him her own:  
Thus Maids with Men are dallying still,  
Till they have brought them to their will.   

Alas, quoth he, how am I crost,  
Beholding her myself I have lost:  
Now beauty is become a snare,  
The which hath brought me to despair:  
If she no other man had loved,  
I might have hope she might be moved,  
But she another doth affect,  
And I must die without respect.   

She noting of his passion then,  
As Maids well do that love Young-men,  
And finding the occasion fit,  
Mark here a wily wenches wit:  
Delays prove dangerous she knew,  
And many Maids have found it true:  
Thus in her self resolved to speak,  
She unto him her mind did break.   

Quoth she, Young man it is your lot,  
The God of love hath laid a plot,  
The Net is spread, the bide is caught,  
And I have found the thing I sought:  
Though men are strong an Women weak,  
Stout hearts will yield before they'l break,  
And Women sometimes win the field,  
When men are willing for to yield.   

With that the Nymphs and Rural Swains,  
Came straight way tripping o'er the plains;  
The Satyrs made them Pipes of Reeds,  
And brought in music more than needs:  
The Syrens sung such songs of mirth,  
That brought King Obeon from th'earth:  
The fairies with the Fairy King,  
Did dance about them in a Ring.   Chorus. 

All health and happiness betid,  
The shoemaker and his sweet Bride,  
Lo thus we sing, and thus we dance,  
Till we have brought love in a trance:  
Thus pleasures sweet these couple grace,  
Both linked together in a sweet embrace,  
The neighbbouring Hills and Dales rebound  
With echo of our pleasant sound.   

Whilst thus they sung their round-delays  
God Cupid crowned their heads with bays  
The Bride look like the Queen of May,  
The shoemaker lead her away:  
Where now they live in quiet peace,  
And love doth more and more increase,  
Thus love you see can find a way,  
To make both Men and Maids obey,    

How a shoemakers Widow fell in love with her Man.  

These three years John, I have been deep in Love,  
And ne'er till now had time my mind to move;  
Speak, canst thou love me, though I am thy Dame?  
I would not have thee daunted; Fie for shane:  
Old Proverb, Spare to speak, and spare to speed.  
Thou want'st a Wife, and I a Husband need.   

His Answer.  
mistress, I am in Love as well 'tis true,  
But to speak truth, in truth I love not you:  
I have a Maid in chase, as sweet a Lass,  
In my conceit, I think, as ever was:  
Pray then forbear, it never shall be said,  
I took a Widow and forsook a Maid.    


Reader, Observe what's written by the Poet,  
Women and Maids love Men, but few show it.    
FINIS.