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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 QUEENHOO-HALL, 
 
 a Eomance: 
 
 AND 
 
 ANCIENT TIMES, 
 
 A DRAMA. 
 
 BV THE LATE 
 
 JOSEPH STRUTT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "RURAL SPORTS AND PASTIMES OF THf. 
 PEOPLE OF ENGLAND," <5fC. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 Printed by James Ballantyne <§• Co. 
 
 FOR JOHN MURRAY, FLEET -STREET, LONDON: 
 
 AND 
 
 ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE § CO. EDINBURGH. 
 1808.
 
 V.I / 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The late Mr Joseph Strutt was well known to 
 Connoisseurs by his " History of Engravers;' 
 and by his own performances as an artist. 
 Among the last are many that evince his ta- 
 lents of design, as well as his skill in engra- 
 ving. To literary men he was distinguished 
 by his sedulous and honourable endeavours 
 to illustrate the early history of his country. 
 The" HordaAnoelCynn an," comprising 
 an account of the dresses and costume used 
 in England, during the various ages from the 
 invasion of the Saxons to the last century, is 
 a work not only of value to the antiquary, 
 
 but to all who, reading the early history of 
 vol. i. a 
 
 728218
 
 11 
 
 their country, are desirous to identify, with 
 the events recorded, some idea of the exter- 
 nal appearance of those by whom they were 
 performed. " The Sports and Pastimes of the 
 People of England," with the corresponding 
 engravings, is a work of equal merit; and 
 those who undervalue the labour and skill 
 necessary to select the materials of such a 
 composition, are little aware, how much more 
 the fire of genius is kindled and excited by a 
 single circumstance of minute and picturesque 
 reality, than by an hundred elegant, round, 
 and polished periods, in which events are 
 generally narrated, without a little to mark 
 whether they happened in Britain or Pales- 
 tine. 
 
 But, independent of his merits as an ex- 
 cellent artist, and a sedulous antiquary, Mr 
 Strutt possessed powers of imagination, of 
 
 12
 
 Hi 
 
 which the following volumes are a satisfac- 
 tory, though, necessarily, an imperfect speci- 
 men. 
 
 The romance, entitled " Queenhoo-Hall,"- 
 was acquired by the Editor in an imperfect 
 state ; and although the tale is brought, by a 
 literary friend, to a hasty conclusion, yet, from 
 the materials which remain, there is reason 
 to believe, that Mr Strutt intended it should 
 neither be so abruptly, nor so inartificially 
 terminated. Traces are to be discovered in 
 the manuscript, of adventures sketched out 
 but not finished, and of new characters to be 
 illustrated in the future process of the story ; 
 but there remained not sufficient evidence of 
 the path which the author intended to pur- 
 sue ; and, therefore, it was deemed more fit- 
 ting to trust to the reader's liberal candouY, 
 for the disproportions natural in a story not
 
 finished by the original author, than to make 
 the memory of Mr Strutt responsible for the 
 edifice built by another, when the foundations 
 he had laid were scarcely to be traced. It is 
 also to be noticed, that although the ancient 
 dialect is observed with great accuracy (ge- 
 nerally speaking) by the^ lower personages of 
 the romance, yet the language and manners 
 of the higher rank are not gothicized, if the 
 reader will permit the expression, in the same 
 proportion. Lord Boteler, his daughter, and 
 visitors, talk nearly like people of rank in the 
 present day, while their domestics use the 
 language of the feudal ages. It seems pro- 
 bable, that the author intended, at his leisure, 
 to harmonize these jarring parts of his pic- 
 ture, and that the present narrative only pre- 
 sents the outline and main plan of his build- 
 ing, without the gothic Jacacfe, which should
 
 have given a character to the whole. The 
 Editor, however, has not ventured to remedy 
 this defect, because it could not have been 
 done without re-writing a large portion of 
 the work ; because the tale is in itself inte- 
 resting, and the reason of such slight incon- 
 sistencies obvious and irremediable ; and, 
 lastly, because perchance he found himself 
 unequal to fill up the extensive plans which 
 had been sketched by so excellent an anti- 
 quary as the deceased author. 
 
 The scene of this fictitious narrative is laid 
 in the neighbourhood of Tewin in Hertford- 
 shire, which was distinguished as the scene 
 of many charitable and benevolent exertions 
 of the worthy author. Many of the places 
 described in the vicinity, would have re- 
 ceived illustrations from his pen, and proba-
 
 bly also from his pencil, had he lived to ft-* 
 nish the task he had undertaken. 
 
 The talents of Mr Strutt as a poet, are 
 evinced not only by many lyrical pieces scat- 
 tered through these volumes, of which some 
 may justly claim an uncommon share of ap- 
 plause, but by the drama entitled " Ancient 
 Times," which, though perhaps hardly fitted 
 for the stage, contains some passages of great- 
 poetical merit. 
 
 Upon the whole, it is hoped the public 
 will be at once favourable and indulgent to 
 the literary remains of one, to whom the an- 
 cient history of his country owes much ; 
 whose Editor may boldly claim for him the 
 applause due to genius, and the debt owing 1 
 to departed industry and worth. 
 
 •« 
 London, 1 st April, 1 808.
 
 QUEENHOO-HALL; 
 
 LEGENDARY ROMANCE.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The history, of itself, which is partly 
 fictitious, and partly founded upon real 
 circumstances, admits of great variety 
 of characters and incidents ; sufficient, 
 it is hoped, to render it abstractedly in- 
 teresting : But the chief purpose of the 
 work, is to make it the medium of con- 
 veying much useful instruction^ imper- 
 ceptibly, to the minds of such readers 
 as are disgusted at the dryness usually 
 concomitant with the labours of the an- 
 tiquary, and present to them a lively and 
 vol.1. a.
 
 li 
 
 pleasing representation of the manners 
 and amusements of our forefathers, un- 
 -der the form most likely to attract theip 
 notice. 
 
 The scene of the piece is laid in Eng- 
 land ; and the time, (in which the events 
 are supposed to take place,) is in the 
 reign of Henry the Sixth, about the 
 middle of the fifteenth century. The do- 
 mestic manners, &c. of 'the English, at that 
 period, are very little known; though a 
 thorough investigation of them is posi- 
 tively necessary, to link together, (if I 
 may be allowed the expression,) those 
 of the preceding, and those of the suc- 
 ceeding centuries. Hence this publica- 
 tion may be deemed generally useful ; 
 and especially to the lovers of old Eng- 
 lish poetry, which it will make much
 
 Ill 
 
 more intelligible, in a variety of instan- 
 ces, by explaining many obsolete customs, 
 frequently alluded to by the poets, and, 
 above all, by the early dramatic writers 
 of this country. 
 
 The different degrees of the people, 
 from the nobleman to the peasant, have 
 their places in the romance ; their cha- 
 racters are marked by their language 
 and deportment ; the speeches are, in 
 general, sufficiently modernised, to make 
 them perfectly intelligible ; but, at the 
 same time, they contain enough of the 
 phraseology of the age, to give them an 
 air of antiquity. 
 
 The sumptuous manner of living, 
 which distinguished the nobility of this 
 country in days of yore, the furniture 
 of their mansions, the trains of domes- 1
 
 IV 
 
 tics, and retainers belonging to them, 
 and the pomp they assumed upon occa- 
 sions of solemnity, are contrasted with 
 the more humble dwellings, decorations, 
 and festivals, of persons less opulent, de- 
 scending to the cottage of the rustic. 
 
 The various pursuits, and domestic 
 -amusements of all ranks of persons, 
 form a part of the work ; and especial- 
 ly, the exhibitions of the wandering 
 minstrels, jugglers, narrators of fables, 
 &c. ; the nature of their spectacles are 
 explained, from their most brilliant 
 performances, to those adapted to the 
 taste of the rustics in common drinking 
 houses, with appropriate specimens of 
 their poetry and tales.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 or 
 VOLUME FIRST. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Description of a May-Game, in the Fifteenth 
 Century, Page 1 
 
 SECTION H. 
 A Scene at a Country Alehouse, ..,...;. 67 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Conversation between the Ladies—A Morning 
 Walk— An Adventure, 89
 
 VI 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 CHAP. L 
 
 In which the Stay runs retrograde — The History 
 of an old Witch, and an important Adventure 
 at her solitary Cell — A Wrestling Match, and 
 a Ghost, Page 1 1 2 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 A deoelopement of some important Mutters — The 
 introduction of a new Character — And a whim- 
 sical instance of rustic revenge, 150 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 In which Lord Boteler is introduced, and the 
 Stranger Lady declares her name and her fami- 
 ly. — Proves the beautiful Chaplet to be her oxen, 183 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 ■Emma's Tale — with the sequel of Ralph's Calamity. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 In which Lady JEmma Darcy begins the History 
 of her Advent tnes; and as this Chapter con-
 
 Vll 
 
 tains little more than common occurrences, the 
 Header is at liberty to hurry over it as hastily 
 as possible, Page 201 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Lady Emma's Histoiy continued.-— -A Tempest, 
 and an Adventure worthy the attention of the 
 Reader, 227
 
 QUEENHOO-HALL ; 
 
 BEING 
 
 A HISTORY OF TIMES PAST. 
 
 SECTION I. . 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A MAY-GAME, IN THE 
 FIFTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " In good sooth, Gregory, you carry mat- 
 ters too far," said Thomas. 
 
 " Not in the least," answered Gregory. 
 " Go to ; I am not the ass you take me to 
 be." 
 
 " That were a goodly jape indeed," re- 
 torted Thomas, " to take my lord's jester for 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 (f 
 <t 
 
 2 
 
 an ass : but shame upon you to be so set 
 askance for a word or two." 
 
 " Word me no words," quoth Gregory; 
 " I will not perform the hobby-horse ; and 
 if the hobby-horse be not performed, wot ye 
 well, the morris will be stark naught; — let 
 Gervas look to it ; it comes of his knavery." — 
 But you are so choleric," said Thomas. — 
 Look you now," answered the Jester ; 
 
 it is acknowledged on all hands, that no 
 man can jerk the hobby, or rein him, or 
 prance him, like me : I have played the horse 
 with transcendant applause, before this cock- 
 erel broke his egg-shell. And shall I be told 
 to my beard by such an howlet, that I know 
 not how to use the bells? May the foul fiend 
 take me, but it were a good deed done to 
 break the hilts of my dagger over the knave's 
 costard !" 
 
 " A fig for him," quoth Thomas ; " you 
 know he is an idle lozel; it is ever his guise 
 to be prating like a magpie ; heed him not :
 
 3 
 
 for we have all agreed that you shall have 
 the double bells, bought for my lord's own 
 morris ; we have provided the hobby a new 
 snaffle ; and Peter Lanaret has made an ad- 
 dition of colt's hair to his tail, which reaches 
 to the ground." 
 
 " Say you so ?" returned the Jester : et why- 
 then I will relent ; I will play the hobby-horse. 
 In sooth, it would have been a sorry trick 
 to have spoiled the morris for want of the 
 hobby; and especially, that it should have 
 been spoiled by the operations of a silken 
 lackey. Certes, you all know there is not one 
 among you qualified to play the beast like 
 me." 
 
 " You say true," answered Thomas ; "you 
 have always been excellent at playing the 
 beast. — But see yonder, our comrades are 
 all of them equipped in their disguisements. 
 Away, for shame ! or the morris will be ready 
 before you are mounted." 
 
 " Never fear," said Gregory ; « be but the
 
 bells hung at the hobby's ears, and I will be 
 on horseback before they have gone through 
 half their postures." 
 
 This dialogue passed between Gregory the 
 jester and Thomas the reve's son, in the court 
 of Queenhoo-hall, at Tewin, in Hertfordshire ; 
 the residence of Lord Edward Boteler, a ba- 
 ron of great opulence in the reign of King 
 Henry the Sixth, and a great favourite at the 
 court of that unfortunate monarch. 
 
 It happened on the morning of the first 
 of May, that, the family being absent, the 
 household servitors had engaged with the 
 villagers to join in the celebration of the 
 May-games ; and were now preparing to ex- 
 hibit their pageant, by way of rehearsal, in 
 the great hall, when a loud knocking at the 
 gate announced the arrival of some person of 
 consequence. There was not one of the ser- 
 vants, excepting Oswald the chamberlain, 
 equipped in his proper habit; and he pro- 
 ceeded gravely to the gate, where, having
 
 performed the office of the porter, he was 
 greatly astonished by the appearance of the 
 Lady Matilda, daughter of Lord Boteler, 
 alighting from a litter, accompanied by her 
 cousin the Lady Eleanor. — He had no time 
 to give information to the motley tribe with- 
 in ; and the ladies, on entering the hall, were 
 equally surprised at the sight of the page- 
 antry. 
 
 " Bless me !" exclaimed Matilda, but not 
 with anger; " Bless me! Oswald, what may 
 all this mean ?" 
 
 The chamberlain approached, and bowing 
 very obsequiously, instead of answering the 
 question, attempted to welcome them home. 
 — " I hope," said he, " your ladyship is in 
 health ; and also the Lady Eleanor, your fair 
 cousin. — You are welcome home; you come 
 indeed rather unexpectedly.— Saint Thomas 
 grant his lordship may be in perfect health ! 
 — Fye upon it; we are all unprepared for his 
 reception .'—Begone, you varlets, and make
 
 6 
 
 you ready! — Is his lordship coming soon? — 
 The knaves, I trow, have set all things at sixes 
 and sevens." 
 
 " And on my part, I think the same," re- 
 joined the lady with a smile ; " but all is well, 
 I hope?" 
 
 " Oh yes, your ladyship," answered the 
 chamberlain, encouraged by her gentle man- 
 ner of speaking ; " All is well ; all is excel- 
 lently well." 
 
 " And wherefore," said she, " do I see this 
 confusion in the hall ? — the domestics are so 
 fantastically habited, that, were not some of 
 the faces familiar to me, I should have taken 
 them for a troop of foreigners : I beseech you 
 inform me what new livery it is they have 
 taken on them to wear." — 
 
 Oswald bowed very low, and thus replied : 
 " Your honour must know that this day is 
 the first of the merry month of May; and the 
 varlets have agreed, — not meaning the least 
 harm, my lady, but simply for disport-sake, —
 
 to join the villagers, who are about to erect 
 a May-pole on the Green in the afternoon 
 after the old guise : and the knaves, as you 
 see, are equipped for the pageant." 
 
 " And nothing more than a May-game is 
 preparing ?" said Matilda. 
 
 " Nothing more, by my fay !" returned the 
 chamberlain ; " in good sooth, nothing more : 
 but now the pageant is done.— Away, away, 
 ye varlets ! I weened it was an idle frolic ! — 
 uncase in an instant ; and off with these lozel 
 knackeries ! — on with your proper vestments, 
 and every one to his vocation !" — 
 
 " Be not so hasty, Oswald," said his mis- 
 tress; " for I do not see any just cause why 
 our arrival should deprive your comrades of 
 any innocent amusement in which they may 
 reasonably participate : and therefore I com- 
 mission you to see that the sports go forward, 
 and with additional splendour ; for we, my 
 dear Eleanor," continued she, addressing her- 
 self to her cousin, " if you have no objection,
 
 8 
 
 will walk down to the Green, and see the ce- 
 
 remonies." 
 
 "\ know not any thing," returned the Lady 
 Eleanor, " in my present humour, that could 
 please me better ; I love to he merry myself, 
 and am never more delighted than when I 
 see all about me happy." 
 
 Matilda ordered the chamberlain to cause 
 a pavilion to be erected on the Green for 
 their reception ; and then the ladies retired. 
 
 The unexpected arrival of the baron's 
 daughter had occasioned the greatest conster- 
 nation among the ringleaders of the pageant; 
 they concluded that all their preparations 
 had been made to no purpose, and, vexed by 
 the disappointment, were returning to their 
 respective duties with very gloomy counte- 
 nances ; but when it was known among them 
 that their lovely young mistress not only per- 
 mitted the exhibition of the sports, but pro- 
 posed to honour their performance with her 
 presence, the hall rang with acclamations of
 
 joy; the pageant was rehearsed with great 
 glee ; and every heart was exhilarated by her 
 condescension. 
 
 The Boteler family made a great figure 
 in Hertfordshire. Lord Edward Boteler, as 
 already noticed, was in high favour with his 
 sovereign, and held a post of importance at 
 court. Queenhoo-hall, the noble family-man- 
 sion, was situated about four miles from the 
 town of Hertford ; it was a spacious edifice ; 
 and large vestiges of it remain even to this 
 day. 
 
 Lord Edward was young when he mar- 
 ried ; he had three children by his lady, — 
 two sons and a daughter ; the sons both died 
 early in life; and his lordship was left a wi- 
 dower at the age of forty-five. His lovely 
 daughter, at the fatal period that robbed
 
 10 
 
 him of his wife, had just reached her eigh- 
 teenth year : she was exceedingly beautiful, 
 elegantly formed, and, above all, possessed a 
 mind superior in excellencies to her external 
 endowments. On the death of her mother, 
 Lord Edward had made her the superinten- 
 dant of his family ; and this office she per- 
 formed with such decorum, as acquired at 
 once the respect and the love of the ser- 
 vants. 
 
 Well aware that it would be irksome for 
 his daughter to be much alone, and fearful 
 of exposing her to the boundless limits of 
 the court, Lord Edward kept her much in 
 retirement, but added to her enjoyment the 
 company of a lively companion, — the only 
 daughter of his deceased brother : her name 
 was Eleanor ; and the sprightliness of her 
 disposition was well calculated to stimulate 
 the mind of Matilda to cheerfulness, which 
 of itself was too much inclined to gravity. 
 These fair companions felt for each other a
 
 11 
 
 pure sisterly affection ; and as their disposi- 
 tions, especially in points of love, were not 
 precisely the same, there seemed to be none 
 of those little jealousies prevalent in their 
 minds, which are usually destructive of do- 
 mestic happiness. 
 
 It chanced that the king, in the spring of 
 the year, removed his court from London to 
 Saint Albans ; and as Lord Edward, by vir- 
 tue of his office at court, accompanied his 
 royal master, he had sent for his daughter 
 and niece to meet him there. On their ar- 
 rival, the ladies were introduced to the queen ; 
 and their reception was such as gave great 
 satisfaction to Lord Edward. The lustre of 
 the court grew on Eleanor's mind; and the 
 adoration of the courtiers was a sort of ho- 
 mage that she found herself highly gratified 
 in indulging. Matilda, on the contrary, was 
 by no means satisfied with the inflated adu- 
 lation of the court ; she had sense enough to 
 conceive that she was not an angel ; and,
 
 12 
 
 amidst the blaze of splendour, sighed for the 
 tranquillity of retirement. 
 
 A tournament had been proposed, and 
 great preparations made for the display of 
 the pompous pageant, when an irruption of 
 the Scots in the north of England postponed 
 the show ; and the king immediately set off 
 from Saint Albans, in order to collect forces 
 sufficient to repel the invaders. The queen 
 retired to London ; and Lord Edward, who 
 still accompanied his majesty, sent his daugh- 
 ter and her cousin home to the family man- 
 sion at Tevvin, with an attendant. — How af- 
 fairs stood at Queenhoo-hall when the ladies 
 arrived, has already been shewn. 
 
 Dinner was ordered early ; and when it 
 was over, the ladies were informed that all 
 things were in readiness for their reception 
 on the Green.
 
 13 
 
 When the ladies reached the pavilion, 
 they were welcomed with loud shouts by the 
 rustics, who were assembled in crowds to see 
 the May-games; and soon after their arrival, 
 they were joined by the young Baron Fitz- 
 allen of Marden, together with Fitzosborne 
 of Digswell and his two sisters, who came to 
 see the sports ; and, having heard the ladies 
 were returned to Tewin, and meant to be pre- 
 sent at the pastime, took the opportunity of 
 paying their respects to them. These were 
 followed by several other gentlemen and la- 
 dies from the adjacent villages; who were all 
 of them received with the greatest politeness 
 by the Lady Matilda, and her fair cousin ; 
 and when the company were seated, the sports 
 began. 
 
 In the front of the pavilion, a large square 
 was staked out, and fenced with ropes, to 
 prevent the crowd from pressing upon the 
 performers, and interrupting the diversion; 
 there were also two bars at the bottom of the
 
 14 
 
 inclosure, through which the actors might 
 pass and repass, as occasion required. 
 
 Six young men first entered the square, 
 clothed in jerkins of leather, with axes upon 
 their shoulders like woodmen, and their heads 
 hound with large garlands of ivy-leaves inter- 
 twined with sprigs of hawthorn. Then fol- 
 lowed, 
 
 Six young maidens of the village, dressed 
 in blue kirtles, with garlands of primroses on 
 their heads, leading a fine sleek cow, deco- 
 rated with ribbons of various colours inter- 
 spersed with flowers; and the horns of the 
 animal were tipped with gold. These were 
 succeeded by 
 
 Six foresters, equipped in green tunics, 
 with hoods and hosen of the same colour ; 
 each of them carried a bugle-horn attached 
 to a baldrick of silk ; which he sounded as 
 he passed the barrier. After them, came 
 
 Peter Lanaret, the baron's chief falconer, 
 who personified Robin Hood ; he was attired
 
 15 
 
 in a bright grass-green tunic, fringed with 
 gold ; his hood and his hosen were parti- 
 coloured, blue and white ; he had a large 
 garland of rose-buds on his head, a bow bent 
 in his hand, a sheaf of arrows at his girdle, 
 and a bugle-horn depending from a baldrick 
 of light blue tarantine, embroidered with sil- 
 ver ; he had also a sword and a dagger, the 
 hilts of both being richly embossed with 
 gold. 
 
 Fabian a page, as Little John, walked at 
 his right hand ; and Cecil Cellerman the 
 butler, as Will Stukeley, at his left. These, 
 with ten others of the jolly outlaw's atten- 
 dants who followed, were habited in green 
 garments, bearing their bows bent in their 
 hands, and their arrows in their girdles. Then 
 came 
 
 Two maidens, in orange-coloured kirtles 
 with white courtpies, strewing flowers ; fol- 
 lowed immediately by 
 
 The maid Marian, elegantly habited in
 
 16 
 
 a watchet-coloured tunic reaching to the 
 ground; over which she wore a white linen 
 rochet with loose sleeves, fringed with silver, 
 and very neatly plaited ; her girdle was of 
 silver baudekin, fastened with a double bow 
 on the left side; her long flaxen hair was 
 divided into many ringlets, and flowed upon 
 her shoulders ; the top part of her head was 
 covered with a net-work cawl of gold, upon 
 which was placed a garland of silver, orna- 
 mented with blue violets. She was supported 
 
 Two bride-maidens, in sky-coloured rochets 
 girt with crimson girdles, wearing garlands 
 upon their heads, of blue and white violets. 
 After them, came 
 
 Four other females in green courtpies, and 
 garlands of violets and cowslips : Then 
 
 Sampson the smith, as Friar Tuck, carry- 
 ing a huge quarter-staff on his shoulder ; and 
 Morris the mole-taker, who represented Much 
 the miller's son, having a long pole with an
 
 17 
 
 inflated bladder attached to one end : And 
 after them 
 
 The May-pole, drawn by eight fine oxen, 
 decorated with scarfs, ribbons, and flowers of 
 divers colours; and the tips of their horns 
 were embellished with gold. The rear was 
 closed by 
 
 The hobby horse and the dragon. 
 
 When the May-pole was drawn into the 
 square, the foresters sounded their horns, 
 and the populace expressed their pleasure by 
 shouting incessantly until it reached the place 
 assigned for its elevation : — and during the 
 time the ground was preparing for its recep- 
 tion, the barriers of the bottom of the inclo- 
 sure were opened for the villagers to approach, 
 and adorn it with ribbons, garlands, and 
 flowers, as their inclination prompted them. 
 
 The pole being sufficiently onerated with 
 finery, the square was cleared from such as 
 had no part to perform in the pageant ; and 
 then it was elevated amidst the reiterated ac- 
 
 vol. I. t?
 
 18 
 
 clamations of the spectators. The woodmen 
 and the milk-maidens danced around it ac- 
 cording to the rustic fashion ; the measure 
 was played by Peretto Cheverette, the baron's 
 chief minstrel, on the bagpipes, accompanied 
 with the pipe and tabour, performed by one 
 of his associates. When the dance was fi- 
 nished, Gregory the jester, who, as we have 
 observed already, undertook to play the hob- 
 by-horse, came forward with his appropriate 
 equipment, and, frisking up and down the 
 square without restriction, imitated the gal- 
 loping, curvetting, ambling, trotting, and 
 other paces of a horse, to the infinite satis- 
 faction of the lower classes of the spectators. 
 He was followed by Peter Parker, the ba- 
 ron's ranger, who personated a dragon, his- 
 sing, yelling, and shaking his wings with 
 wonderful ingenuity ; and to complete the 
 mirth, Morris, in the character of Much, 
 having small bells attached to his knees and 
 
 elbows, capered here and there between the 
 
 1
 
 19 
 
 two monsters in the form of a dance ; and 
 as often as he came near to the sides of the 
 inclosure, he cast slily a handful of meal into 
 the faces of the gaping rustics, or rapped 
 them about their heads with the bladder tied 
 at the end of his pole. In the mean time, 
 Sampson, representing Friar Tuck, walked 
 with much gravity around the square, and 
 occasionally let fall his heavy staff upon the 
 toes of such of the crowd as he thought were 
 approaching more forward than they ought 
 to do ; and if the sufferers cried out from the 
 sense of the pain, he addressed them in a 
 solemn tone of voice, advising them to count 
 their beads, say a paternoster or two, and to 
 beware of purgatory. These vagaries were 
 highly palatable to the populace, who an- 
 nounced their delight by repeated plaudits 
 and loud bursts of laughter; for this reason 
 they were continued for a considerable length 
 of time : but Gregory, beginning at last to 
 faulter in his paces, ordered the dragon to fall
 
 m 
 
 back : the well-nurtured beast, being out of 
 breath, readily obeyed, and their two com- 
 panions followed their example ; which con- 
 cluded this part of the pastime. 
 
 Then Thomas the reve's son, in the habit 
 of a pilgrim, came to the front of the pavi- 
 lion, where he was met by a party of the 
 young men and maidens belonging to the 
 procession; and the following dialogue, com- 
 posed for the purpose by Peretto the minstrel, 
 was sung; and he accompanied the voices 
 with his harp : — 
 
 palmer. To the Women. 
 Fair damsels, say what brings you here? 
 
 DAMSELS. 
 
 To celebrate the first of May. 
 
 PALMER. 
 
 Wherefore this day to you so dear ? 
 
 DAMSELS. 
 
 It is bold Robin's wedding-day. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 With sprightly dance and carols gay, 
 We welcome Robin's wedding-day.
 
 21 
 
 Palmer. To the Men. 
 Why stand the bowmen on a row ?— 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Prepar'd to play a skilful game. — 
 
 PiLMER. 
 
 Some Saint to honour 'tis I trow :— 
 
 MEN. 
 
 *Tis Robin Hood, for that's his name. 
 
 CHORDS. 
 
 With sprightly dance, and carols gay, 
 We keep bold Robin's wedding-day. 
 
 PALMER. 
 
 But who is she so fair, bedight 
 In tunic blue and rochet white ? 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 Dost thou not know her, holy man ? 
 It is the blithe maid Marian. 
 
 palmer. 
 How name ye him y'clad in green. 
 With party hose and fringes sheen ? 
 
 MAN. 
 
 It is the prince of archers good : 
 And he is hight bold Robin Hood. 
 
 chorus. 
 With merry carol, dance, and play, 
 We welcome Robin's wedding-day. 
 
 PALMER. 
 
 I am a stranger, well ye wot, 
 
 And much have travell'd : — I have seen 
 The Lord's sepulchre, and the grot 
 
 Where he was born of maiden clean.
 
 22 
 
 The shells of Cales, in sign of grace, 
 Adorn my hat; — and you may spy 
 
 A vernicle, with His dear face 
 Impress'd, who died on Calvary. 
 
 Upon my cloak Saint Peter's keys 
 
 Were drawn at Rome, with crosses wide : 
 
 And reliques from beyond the seas 
 I bear, or woe may me betide ! 
 
 The snow-topp'd hills of Armony, 
 Where Noe's ark may now be found, 
 
 I've seen ; — in sooth, I do not lie ; — 
 
 Told o'er my beads, and kiss'd the ground. 
 
 At Walsingham my vows I've paid ; 
 
 At Waltham eke, and Coloraine; 
 And to Saint Thomas 1 have pray'd, 
 
 Who near the holy rood was slain. 
 
 But tell me to what saint, I pray, 
 What martyr, or what angel bright, 
 
 Is dedicate this holy day, 
 
 That brings you here so gaily dight .'— 
 
 This calendar I've search'd with care 
 For saints y'bless'd and angels good ; 
 
 The holy saints are named there, 
 But no such saint as Robin Hood*
 
 23 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Dost thou not, simple Palmer, know — 
 What ev'ry child can tell thee here, — 
 
 Nor saint nor angel claims this show, 
 But the bright season of the year ? 
 
 WOMEN. 
 
 The cowslips now adorn the dells ; 
 
 On sunny banks primroses blow, 
 With violets sweet and dainty bells ; 
 
 And on the green the daisies grow : 
 
 The birds in warbling chorus sing 
 In hedge and grove and shady wood, 
 
 Inviting us to hail the spring, 
 And join the troop of Robin Hood, 
 chorus. 
 
 With merry carol, dance, and play. 
 
 We welcome Robin's wedding-day. 
 
 When the dialogue was concluded, the 
 archers set up a target at the lower part of 
 the Green, and made trial of their skill in a 
 regular succession. Robin Hood and Will 
 Stukeley excelled their comrades ; and both 
 of them lodged an arrow in the centre circle 
 of gold, so near to each other that the differ- 
 ence could not readily be decided, which oc- 
 casioned them to shoot again ; when Robin
 
 24 
 
 struck the gold a second time, and Stuke~ 
 ley's arrow was affixed upon the edge of it. 
 Robin was therefore adjudged the conqueror; 
 and the prize of honour, a garland of laurel 
 embellished with variegated ribbons, was put 
 upon his head ; and to Stukeley was given a 
 garland of ivy, because he was the second 
 best performer in that contest. 
 
 The pageant was finished with the archery; 
 and the procession began to move away, to 
 make room for the villagers, who afterwards 
 assembled in the square, and amused them- 
 selves by dancing round the May-pole in pro- 
 miscuous companies, according to the ancient 
 custom. 
 
 
 When the inclosure was nearly cleared, 
 and the populace were preparing to take pos- 
 session of it for the exhibition of their tumul- 
 tuous gambols, the attention of the whole
 
 25 
 
 assemblage was suddenly diverted to the lower 
 part of the Green, where a loud shouting was 
 made, and a crowd of people appeared has- 
 tening towards the pavilion. Every one ap- 
 peared to be surprised, because there was no 
 addition to the pageantry expected ; and all 
 were anxious to know what farther pastimes 
 were to be exhibited. The baron's fair daugh- 
 ter, turning to the chamberlain, who stood 
 behind her, said, with a smile, " I thought 
 the May-games were concluded." 
 
 " By our holy-dam, my lady," said Os- 
 wald, bowing, " I weened they were : but, I 
 trow, the varlets have contrived some new 
 knackeries." 
 
 While he was speaking, six men entered 
 the square, uncouthly habited in short tunics 
 of parti-coloured say, having long yellow hose 
 fastened to their jerkins, with blue and red 
 points ; their mantles were skins of wild beasts, 
 with the fur outwards; and their heads were 
 covered with great garlands of counterfeit
 
 Q6 
 
 oaken leaves : every one of them bore a large 
 knotted club upon his shoulder, and had a 
 ram's horn suspended at his side by a thong 
 of leather. These were followed by two pages, 
 habited in blue, and wearing garlands of ivy : 
 one of them carried a huge quarter-staff; and 
 the other, a tablet, on which was depicted 
 the portraiture of a beautiful female fantasti- 
 cally habited. Immediately after them came 
 a tall, stout man, in a mummery disguise- 
 ment, resembling a savage ; his body and 
 limbs were covered with long hair ; his face 
 was hidden by an unseemly vizor, to which 
 was attached a large blue beard ; and his 
 head was overwhelmed with a garland of oak 
 and ivy leaves entwined together. 
 
 This gigantic figure stalked round the in- 
 cisure, holding in his right hand a beautiful 
 chaplet of goldsmith's work, enriched with 
 pearls ; which he shewed to the crowd as he 
 passed. — When he came to the front of the 
 pavilion, he hung it up in the presence of the
 
 9,7 
 
 company there assembled, and with a deep, 
 hoarse voice, addressed them in the following 
 terms : 
 
 " Be it known to all ; — This peerless chap- 
 let belongs to the Sovereign of the May ; and 
 I am her champion. — If you ask me who this 
 lady is, I answer, The most excellent princess the 
 Lady Triamore, Queen of Fairy hand, and 
 the paragon of beauty. — She has sent by me 
 this faint resemblance of her person, that all 
 who see it may confess her charms." So 
 saying, he took the tablet from the page, and 
 shewed it to the assembly ; he afterwards 
 hung it up beneath the chaplet; and casting 
 his gauntlet on the ground, turned to the po- 
 pulace, and resumed his speech : 
 
 "■ In the name of the Lady Triamore, I 
 here propose three separate trials of strength 
 and skill, and challenge three of the stoutest 
 and boldest men in this large circle to prac- 
 tise man to man with me. — If I be foiled, the 
 victor shall claim this costly chaplet for his
 
 28 
 
 meed, to be by him bestowed on the fairest 
 dame present : but if I be the conqueror, (as 
 no doubt [ shall,) the vanquished man shall 
 own himself my lady's slave, and, humbly 
 kneeling upon his knees, kiss the ground be 
 fore her picture." 
 
 His companions then put their horns to 
 their mouths, and sounded them three times. 
 The mob answered them with their shouts ; 
 and when silence was restored, the savage re- 
 sumed his speech : — 
 
 " With the first man who meets me, I will 
 try a fall at wrestling : and I rede my anta- 
 gonist, that he be strong and seasoned in tire 
 art, or he may rue his rashness. 
 
 " Let the second bring with him his quar- 
 ter-staff upon his shoulder, and take good 
 heed I do not crack his crown, and make him 
 trail it. 
 
 " With the third, I will make trial to 
 wrest the staff from him, or draw him over 
 the line."
 
 29 
 
 He then commanded his attendants to 
 wind their horns again three times; and be- 
 tween the soundings he called aloud for some 
 one to come forward : but no man answered 
 the challenge. — 
 
 " I weened it would be so," cried he, stalk- 
 ing disdainfully backwards and forwards in the 
 front of the pavilion ; " There is not a wight 
 among them hardy enough to stand the gripe 
 with me : — -and, by the majesty of Fairy Land, 
 they are the wiser; for ill he sleeps, who 
 sleeps with broken bones." 
 
 " This swaggering blade, for all his floun- 
 cing, is but a swash-buckler, in my estima- 
 tion," said Fitzosborne. 
 
 u He is at best, as you see, a perfect sa- 
 vage," returned Fitzallen. — 
 
 " I hope, however," interposed the Lady 
 Eleanor, smiling, " some doughty champion 
 will bring him to his daring-do, and clip his 
 plumes before he leaves us." 
 
 a Certainly such a champion will come
 
 30 
 
 anon, my lady," returned Fitzallen : " Justice 
 to the fair sex, and especially to the Lady 
 Matilda and yourself, requires the savage to 
 be punished." 
 
 Eleanor received the compliment with a 
 smile, but was silent. 
 
 In the mean time, the baron's domestics 
 had assembled round Morris the mole-taker, 
 who was esteemed the best wrestler at Tewin, 
 being withal a man of great strength and 
 courage ; and they prevailed on him to enter 
 the lists against the overgrown braggadocio : 
 and Sampson the smith, by way of encou- 
 ragement, promised, if he proved unsuccess- 
 ful, to have a bout with him at quarter-staff. — 
 When it was made known to the populace, 
 that Morris had accepted the challenge, 
 they testified their joy by shouting, and cast- 
 ing their caps and bonnets into the air. Pe- 
 retto with his fellow minstrels, to give the 
 greater solemnity to the contest, brought 
 their champion to the place of trial with
 
 31 
 
 martial music, and sang a stanza from one of 
 the songs of Rowland, to inspire them with 
 valour. Morris entered the lists with an air 
 of intrepidity, and, throwing off his super- 
 tunic, would no further divest himself on ac- 
 count of the ladies. 
 
 The assailants met each other ; and, both 
 having made sure of their gripe, the wrest- 
 ling began. Morris exhibited much skill in 
 counteracting the offers of his antagonist, 
 and kept him at bay ; for more than once he 
 seemed to have him at advantage, but the 
 savage as constantly recovered his position ; 
 when, observing that Morris became more 
 eager in his attacks from these temporary 
 flashes of success, he threw a temptation into 
 his way ; the unfortunate mole-catcher fell 
 into the snare ; when the savage, by a sudden 
 shift of his standing, brought one of his legs 
 beneath the other's hams, and threw him to 
 the ground with such violence, that the blood 
 started from his mouth and nostrils ; so that
 
 he was taken away sore bruised and speech- 
 less from the field : the adoration of the pic- 
 ture did not take place on account of the 
 inability of the foiled hero to perform it. 
 
 Sampson, seeing how roughly his compa- 
 nion had been handled, repented that he 
 had undertaken to succeed him : recollecting, 
 however, that he could not forbear the con- 
 test without injuring his honour, and ex- 
 posing himself to the ridicale of his com- 
 panions, he determined to try his fortune ; 
 when, casting off the friar's cowl and gown, 
 he appeared in a doublet of fustian, laced in 
 the front with thongs of leather. The min- 
 strels brought him forward with music and 
 singing, as they had done the mole-taker ; 
 and he passed the front of the pavilion, bear- 
 ing his quarter-staff upon his shoulder. 
 
 The savage man, seeing him approach, 
 took his staff from the page who stood near 
 him ; and, poising it upon the thumb of his 
 right hand elevated above his head, twirled it
 
 33 
 
 round like the sails of a mill ; when, tossing it 
 aloft, he caught it in its fall, and, thrusting 
 one end to the ground, he surveyed his anta- 
 gonist with an air of contempt; saying drily 
 to his companions : " If this cockerel cannot 
 carry his staff more couthly, he had better 
 trail it behind him, and, by giving up the 
 contest, save a knave's sconce." — 
 
 To which sarcasm Sampson angrily replied ; 
 " By the soul of Saint Dunstan, I am not 
 awaped, though the moor-cock crow so loud- 
 ly ! An' you take not good heed, good man bell- 
 swaggerer, I will crack a fool's costard before 
 May-day be done." 
 
 The combat commenced ; when much dex- 
 terity was manifested on both sides, and many 
 sharp blows were given and received : but 
 Sampson's comrades perceived from the be- 
 ginning, that the savage had the advantage 
 of him, and manifestly possessed not only su- 
 perior strength, but superior skill : however, 
 they used every endeavour to encourage him, 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 34 
 
 by their shouting and outcries. The savage, 
 having struck him with much violence upon 
 the left side, tossed his staff into the air, and, 
 catching it by the middle as it fell, to the 
 great surprise of the spectators, flung it round 
 before the other could recover himself, and 
 struck him upon the head. The blow was 
 decisive ; for Sampson fell to the ground, co- 
 vered with blood, and nearly deprived of his 
 senses. His comrades flocked around him; 
 and having washed the wound, and bound 
 it up with a scarf, he recovered sufficiently 
 to own himself conquered ; and the savage 
 insisted on his paying homage to the picture ; 
 which the crest-fallen smith was obliged, by 
 the law of combats, to perform. 
 
 The savage, rejoicing in his double success, 
 began to deride the spectators ; saying, " Ye 
 may remember, a third trial of prowess re- 
 mains unachieved ; and well I ween, the dis- 
 grace that two of your champions have met 
 with will afford but small encouragement for
 
 35 
 
 a third to risk his credit." He then com- 
 manded his men to wind their horns to the 
 challenge, but no one appeared to answer it ; 
 they sounded again and again, but without 
 effect. — 
 
 " I heard," said he, " that a bold outlaw, 
 hight Robin Hood, held his revels here this 
 day. I wist to meet him at this stound ; but, 
 by the soul of my grand-dame, the jolly robber 
 is not present ; — the knave has sent, I ween, 
 some puleing wench, in man's aguisement, 
 to supply his place, and wends himself else- 
 where." 
 
 The crowd now turned their eyes upon 
 Peter Lanaret the falconer, in expectance 
 that he would have undertaken to chastise 
 the boaster's insolence ; but Peter, who was 
 by no means equal in strength to Morris or 
 Sampson, very prudently declined the con- 
 test. In fact, there was not one of the com- 
 pany who chose to come forward on the oc- 
 casion.
 
 36 
 
 The savage man, having littered many 
 taunting gibes and reproaches to no purpose, 
 walked towards the pavilion, to take down 
 the chaplet and the picture ; when a clownish 
 kind of man, in a loose tunic, with long traces 
 of coarse borrel, came into the lists ; he had 
 a thrum bonnet on his head, with a cock's 
 feather stuck in the top of it ; and his face 
 was concealed by a mask. The oddity of his 
 appearance, and the rusticity of his deport- 
 ment, excited the laughter of the spectators ; 
 which he not heeding, sternly commanded 
 the savage not to remove the chaplet; say- 
 ing, u Hold your hand, goodman savage, and 
 let the garland be: — 1 stood at this stound, 
 weening some one more prow would hest ye ; 
 stint your prating, Sihence the swains have 
 been adawed by your big bason looks, and 
 wend aloof, I deem it unfit you should claim 
 the guerdon without the achievement." 
 
 The appearance of the champion did not 
 promise much sport to the spectators : how-
 
 a 
 
 7 
 
 ever, they applauded his courage, and wished 
 him success. The appellant surveyed him 
 with great contempt, and threatened, after 
 he had drawn him over the line, to bestow a 
 good cudgelling upon him, as the best means 
 of teaching him his proper place. 
 
 This menace exasperated the rustic ; who 
 seized the savage, and shook him violently, ex- 
 claiming, at the same time, "Tongue-doughty 
 lozel, make siker your own footing, or I may 
 catch you at default." — The savage was an- 
 gry at being attacked in such an unusual 
 manner, and, the moment he had extricated 
 himself from the gripe of the clown, caught 
 up his staff to strike him : but the general 
 voice of the people commanded him to for- 
 bear; and they began to entertain a more 
 favourable opinion of the defendant's abili- 
 ties. 
 
 A long crease was then cut upon the ground 
 between the two assailants ; and each, grasp- 
 ing an end of a quarter-staff, pushed and
 
 38 
 
 tugged with all his might, to gain it to him- 
 self, or pull his antagonist over the mark. 
 This contest continued much longer than any 
 of the former, and was maintained with great 
 vigour on both sides. The parties exhibited 
 unusual skill, and alternately commanded the 
 applause of the spectators. Victory, how- 
 ever, at last declared for the rustic, who, by 
 an extraordinary exertion, drew the savage 
 over the crease, threw him to the ground, 
 and deprived him of his staff; when, setting 
 his foot upon his breast, he elevated the wea- 
 pon, saying, " Certes, Mister Scarebabe, you 
 been in poor plight to apay me the blows you 
 dempt my due, and may well forsay such 
 deed. — Perdie, the award is mine to send you 
 to the leech with a broken rib or two for 
 him to mend; but your evil stower abates 
 my avengement. — Algates I areed you, with- 
 outen let, to wend in humble guise to yon 
 gay arbour, and recant your selcouth leasings, 
 craving forgiveness from the fair dames who
 
 39 
 
 are seated there. — That done, get back to 
 your native darkness, and take your queen 
 with you; she shews herself by moonlight, 
 as best becomes her : but the beauty of this 
 country courts the day, and is heightened by 
 the splendour of the sun." 
 
 " If my ears deceive me not," said Fitz- 
 osborne, in a whisper to the Lady Eleanor, 
 " this borrel churl has changed his note on a 
 sudden, and talks in the style of a polished 
 gallant." 
 
 The lady replied, " He not only speaks well, 
 but he has deported himself well, by silencing 
 that ill-nurtured braggart, and supporting the 
 honour of our sex." 
 
 The savage performed the task imposed 
 on him by the conqueror : he recanted his 
 errors upon his knees ; and, having obtained 
 pardon from the ladies, he took down the 
 tablet, and departed with his companions, 
 stalking; down the Green amidst the taunting 
 and mockeries of the populace.
 
 40 
 
 When the savage man was gone, the victor 
 cast the quarter-staff upon the ground, and, 
 drawing forth a bugle-horn which had been 
 concealed beneath his tunic, he blew it skil- 
 fully, and the challenge was answered by the 
 sound of trumpets from the upper part of the 
 Green ; when a party of horsemen appeared, 
 preceded by two heralds arrayed in rich ta- 
 bards embroidered with silver and gold. As 
 soon as this gay train had reached the borders 
 of the inclosure, the rustic, kneeling upon one 
 knee, addressed himself to the Lady Matilda, 
 entreating her permission, and the permission 
 of the other ladies in the assembly, for him 
 and his comrades to run three courses at the 
 ring in honour of the fair sex : and this gal- 
 lant petition was readily granted. 
 
 " Do you not think, my dear cousin," said 
 the Lady Eleanor, addressing herself to the 
 baron's daughter, " that this same stranger is 
 the best-nurtured man for a borrel-dressing 
 clown, that ever you saw ?"
 
 41 
 
 " I trust," returned Matilda with a smile, 
 " the borrel husk, when cast, will produce 
 a fair grain." 
 
 The heralds first entered the lists bare- 
 headed ; and sounding their trumpets, they 
 were followed by five knights apparelled in 
 tilting habits; their hose and their doublets 
 were of light blue velvet, branched with gold; 
 their surcoats of silver baudekin, and their 
 mantles of scarlet tyratine, fringed with gold ; 
 their bonnets of striped satin, edged with 
 pearls; and their faces were covered with 
 comely masks, adorned with long beards 
 of gold wire. Behind them appeared six 
 esquires, bare-headed, and in one livery of 
 blue velvet, with mantles of orange tawney 
 satin. The knights and the esquires were 
 well mounted upon caparisoned horses ; and 
 the sixth esquire led a horse without the 
 rider. They saluted the company as they 
 passed the front of the pavilion, and when 
 the horse unoccupied was brought up to the
 
 42 
 
 pretended rustic, he cast aside his tunic and 
 traces of borrel, and presented himself to the 
 spectators in a rich habit, resembling those 
 of the other five knights, saving only that his 
 was more splendid, and upon the breast of the 
 surcoat was wrought, in goldsmith's work, the 
 cognizance of the Boteler family ; and be- 
 neath it, a heart transfixed with an arrow, 
 embroidered with crimson thread, surrounded 
 with this motto, in letters of gold ; TRUE 
 TO HER I LOVE. He leaped into the 
 saddle with great agility, and kept his seat 
 with so much ease and elegance, that he ex- 
 cited the astonishment of the men, and the 
 commendation of the ladies. Every one was 
 curious to learn his name ; but no one could 
 satisfy the inquiries of his companion. The 
 Lady Matilda, particularly, was much sur- 
 prised at seeing her family cognizance upon 
 the surcoat of the stranger ; for she was well 
 assured, he and his companions were not her 
 father's domestics : and she beckoned to the
 
 43 
 
 chamberlain, to learn from him the inten 
 tion of the pageant. The old man, shrugging 
 up his shoulders, assured her he was altoge- 
 ther in the dark : " for certes," quoth he, 
 " our knaves areed me these chevisaunees are 
 no part of their May-game gambols." 
 
 " This is passing strange," said the Lady 
 Eleanor. 
 
 " Not at all, my lady," returned Fitzallen ; 
 u for beauty is never without its adorers." 
 
 Eleanor smiled at the young baron's re- 
 mark ; but Matilda blushed, and assumed an 
 air of great seriousness. 
 
 In the mean time, the heralds had dis- 
 mounted, and prepared the lists for the per- 
 formance about to take place. — A long thick 
 rope was stretched across the square, sup- 
 ported by stakes driven into the ground, and 
 placed parallel to the front of the pavilion : 
 at one end of the rope, a strong pole, about 
 four yards high, was erected, and from it was 
 suspended the ring, or small circle of brass ;
 
 44 
 
 two small springs were affixed to the top 
 of this ring, which, being pressed together, 
 were thrust into a brazen socket, and retained 
 there by the exertion of the springs, but so 
 as to give way when the point of the lance 
 was thrust through the ring, and permit it to 
 be drawn out without risk of damaging the 
 socket, or breaking the spear. 
 
 When these matters were perfectly adjust- 
 ed, the six knights took the field, and every 
 one receiving his lance from his respective 
 esquire, ran in rotation singly at the ring ; 
 and the Knight of the Wounded Heart took 
 his turn the last. 
 
 The first course was very brilliantly per- 
 formed ; for five knights bore away the ring, 
 and the sixth struck it on the edge. 
 
 In the second course, the first knight's 
 horse stumbled, and threw his rider, who re- 
 ceived no hurt ; but, according to the law of 
 the pastime, he lost his turn. Of the other
 
 4.5 
 
 five, three struck the ring, and two carried it 
 
 awav. 
 
 In the third course, the ring was struck 
 by two, and two bore it from the socket; the 
 other two were altogether unsuccessful. 
 
 The heralds, whose office it was to register 
 the success of all the candidates, declared 
 that the victory was not decided, but lay 
 between the Knight of the Wounded Heart 
 and the fourth knight ; for both of them had 
 carried the ring three times : and in such 
 cases, the laws of the sport required those 
 who had been equally fortunate, to obtain 
 permission from the ladies, and perforin three 
 additional courses. The consent of the ladies 
 was obtained, and the courses achieved. The 
 fourth knight struck the ring twice, and car- 
 ried it once ; the Knight of the Wounded 
 Heart struck it once, and earned it twice; 
 and of course the victory was decreed to him. 
 Tiie heralds reserving the determination of 
 the prize of honour (a garland of ivy inter-
 
 46* 
 
 twined with laurel) to the ladies, the garland 
 was put into the hands of the Lady Matilda, 
 who, with the joint approbation of her fe- 
 male companions, adjudged it to their cham- 
 pion, who, leaping from his horse, was con- 
 ducted by the heralds, sounding their trum- 
 pets, to the baron's daughter ; and, kneeling 
 before her, he received from her fair hands 
 the honourable prize. He then commanded 
 the heralds to take down the chaplet which 
 the savage man had hung up in the front 
 of the pavilion, and, presenting the same to 
 the Lady Matilda, he said, " Fair Excellence, 
 permit me, your unworthy but devoted cham- 
 pion, to solicit your acceptance of this chap- 
 let ; and'humbly I intreat you to wear it in 
 your own right, as the Sovereign Lady of the 
 May." — The young lady blushed, and was 
 exceedingly confused at this unexpected ad- 
 dress : she took the chaplet in her hand, 
 unconscious of what she was doing, and the 
 knight withdrew before she could return it ;
 
 47 
 
 but, perceiving that his esquire had taken 
 his horse from the lists, and that the barriers 
 were stopped by his companions, who were 
 passing through them, he leaped over the 
 rope, without the least hesitation, to the great 
 admiration of the gaping populace, and, 
 mounting his horse, rejoined the train ; and 
 they rode away full speed together, not af- 
 fording the least opportunity for the company 
 to discover who they were, or whence they 
 came. 
 
 The baron's fair daughter looked on in 
 silence ; the suddenness of the transaction 
 greatly surprised her, and the adventure ap- 
 peared like a vision. The greater part of the 
 company, supposing that the whole of the 
 pastime had been contrived by the baron's 
 servants in honour of their young mistress, 
 could not conceive why she should be so 
 much affected by the conclusion ; and some 
 of them attempted to rally her on the success 
 of her champion.
 
 48 
 
 " Indeed," said she, endeavouring to re- 
 sume her usual cheerfulness, " I know not 
 to whom I am indebted for the flattering 
 compliments that have been paid to me on 
 this occasion : I am sensible I do not deserve 
 them; — they are, however, like the gaudy 
 tinsel of this bauble, fair only while new, but 
 soon fade away, and prove their own worth- 
 lessness." 
 
 " If the compliments, my dear cousin, be 
 equally valuable with the chaplet," retorted 
 the Lady Eleanor, taking it at the same time 
 into her hand, " you have greatly under-rated 
 them; for I am much deceived if this tinsel, 
 as you call it, be not pure gold, and the 
 embellishments true pearls and oriental dia- 
 monds. — I never saw more exquisite work- 
 manship than is displayed in the foliage, nor 
 more elegancy of design than appears in the 
 disposition and intertwining of the branches. 
 Indeed my clear Matilda, this garland is a 
 jewel of price, and worth the acceptance of
 
 49 
 
 the queen. For my part," added she, affect- 
 ing to sigh, " I wish tier Majesty or' Fairy-land 
 would send another savage with another chap- 
 let, and Good-Fortune another knight to win 
 them for me." 
 
 To this, the baron's daughter gravely re- 
 plied : " There shall not need, my dearest 
 cousin, another savage nor another knight, 
 on this occasion ; -for if you be pleased with 
 this gaudy ornament, you will oblige me by 
 your acceptance of it from me ; and I be- 
 seech you to wear it for my sake." 
 
 " Not for the wealth of Fairy-land," re- 
 plied the Lady Eleanor hastily: " this jewel 
 belongs to the Lady of the May; you are 
 elected Lady of the Ma}' by the fair ordeal 
 of a combat, and you only ought to wear it." 
 
 The observations made on the chaplet in- 
 duced the company, who were near at hand, 
 to examine it more minutely, and all of them 
 agreed with ihe Lady Eleanor respecting its 
 beauty and its worth. — " It would become 
 
 VOL. I. d
 
 50 
 
 you well/' said that lady to her cousin ; " per- 
 mit me, I pray you, to place it upon your 
 head." — This Matilda positively refused, until 
 it became the general request of the company 
 that she would comply with the accustomed 
 ceremony, which had at least the sanction of 
 ancient usage in its favour, though contrary to 
 her own inclination ; and she at length gave 
 way to the solicitations of her companions, 
 and submitted to the inauguration. 
 
 When the golden chaplet was adjusted to 
 her forehead, the populace shouted ; and, at 
 that instant, an old man, with a long white 
 beard, who had entered the inclosure with the 
 train of the champion, and seated himself un- 
 noticed at the right hand of the pavilion, rose 
 up, and, casting from him a large hyke which 
 had concealed his under dress, discovered him- 
 self to be a minstrel. He then produced his 
 harp, and performed a prelude very skilfully : 
 — the attention of the people was excited by 
 the music, and they were silent; when he 
 
 2
 
 51 
 
 sang the following verses with much melody, 
 and accompanied his voice with the notes of 
 the instrument : — 
 
 SONG. 
 
 From hill, from dell, or lucid spring, 
 
 Meandring through the flow"r-dight glade, 
 
 Where elves at midnight dance the ring ; — 
 Or from the deepest woodland shade ; — 
 
 Thee I invoke, — thine be the hallow'd lay, — 
 
 Sweet Harmony, — To praise the Queen of May ! 
 
 'Wake with enchanting sounds the lyre ; 
 
 Celestial music then shall flow : 
 Strike the full chord with soul-felt fire, 
 
 And bid the rapturd bosom glow : 
 'Tis Beauty, peerless Beauty, claims the lay ; — 
 See where she sits, — The Sov'reign of the May I 
 
 Whateer romantic fancy traced, 
 
 Warm from the heart, in Beauty's praise, 
 
 With energetic wildness graced 
 By bards of lore in ancient days, 
 
 Remember now, — and tune the magic lay, — 
 
 To greet the lovely Sov'reign of the May, 
 
 In Pagan land bright Beauty reigns, 
 
 And claims a worship there divine ; 
 Th unnui turd savage wears her chains, 
 
 And bows devoted to her shrine ;
 
 62 
 
 Wide o'er the world is spread her sov'reign sway : — 
 Hail, Beauty ! — hail, fair Lady cf the May ! 
 
 Yet Beauty is a fading flow'r, 
 
 And oft untimely disappears ; — 
 Subject to change from hour to hour, 
 
 It cannot bide the test of years ; 
 But constant virtue blossoms ev'ry day 
 In thy chaste bosom, Sov'reign of the May ! 
 
 Virtue shall shine, the child of Truth, 
 
 To ceaseless ages, fair and free, 
 And claim eternity of-youth, 
 
 When Time himself must cease to be : — 
 Let Virtue, and let Beauty, rule the day ; 
 For both are thine, — Matilda, — Queen of May ! 
 
 The old man, having finished the song, 
 arose from his seat amidst the plaudits of his 
 auditors ; when, bowing to the baron's lovely 
 daughter, he retired hastily through the crowd, 
 and, mounting a horse stationed for him near 
 at hand, he rode away without soliciting any 
 reward, as minstrels were accustomed to do. 
 This new event heightened the surprise of 
 the Lady Matilda ; and she took her cousin 
 by the hand, saying, " 1 beseech you, my
 
 53 
 
 dearest Eleanor, let us return to Queenhoo- 
 hall ; for here we seem in truth to be in fairy 
 land, where wonders multiply upon wonders : 
 I am not, however, disposed at present to 
 witness any more of them." 
 
 The Lady Eleanor readily acquiesced with 
 the request of her cousin ; and, having taken 
 their leave of the company assembled in the 
 pavilion, the two young ladies retired from 
 the Green, preceded by the chamberlain, and 
 followed by a large train of servitors. The 
 pavilion was soon afterwards cleared by the 
 departure of the gentry ; and the whole of 
 the inclosure was given up to the rustics, for 
 the performance of their wonted pastimes ; 
 but, as it was drawing towards evening, the 
 dancing round the May-pole was shortened. 
 Such of the villagers as had been actors in 
 the first pageant, together with the hand- 
 bell ringers, went up to Queenhoo-hall, where 
 a mummery was to be exhibited ; and others, 
 who came from a distance, returned home.
 
 54 
 
 The ladies reached Queenhoo-hall without 
 any interruption ; but the whole of their dis- 
 course was engrossed by the extraordinary 
 adventures of the day. They canvassed over 
 and over the several circumstances relative to 
 the combat; — they called to memory the 
 names of all the young noblemen of their ac- 
 quaintance, without being able to fix upon 
 any one of them, to whom they could, with 
 the least degree of certainty, attribute this 
 effusion of gallantry. 
 
 The supper was served up, and removed 
 again in a short time ; the ladies had not ei- 
 ther of them any great inclination to par- 
 take of it ; and the baron's fair daughter was 
 exceedingly thoughtful : when Gregory the 
 jester, being ushered into the room by the 
 chamberlain, bowed obsequiously three or
 
 55 
 
 four times, and addressed the Indies in a set 
 speech, composed by himself, with the as- 
 sistance of Gilbert the schoolmaster, to this 
 effect : — 
 
 " Most illustrious and most incomparable 
 ladies, transcendent paragons of beauty, and 
 superlative patterns of virtue and nobleness; 
 Be it known unto your honours, that the var- 
 lets of the village, and your own egregious 
 knaves, have prepared for your graces' amuse- 
 ment a dance and a mummery, as aforetime it 
 hath been customary to set forth in honour of 
 the May: and I, your honours' most unworthy 
 gentleman and most humble servant, am de- 
 legated, in the name of our company, to 
 parley for them, and to solicit your august 
 ladyships to shine upon our poor perform- 
 ances, and illuminate our rustic show by 
 the lively emanations of the radiant beams 
 from your bright countenances. — So shall we 
 hold ourselves bounden to pray for the wel- 
 fare and solace of your excellencies for ever."
 
 56 
 
 — " And amen, good Gregory/' said the 
 Lady Eleanor ; " I wonder you forgot that." 
 
 * I could not forget it, my lady," replied 
 the Jester, " because I did not learn it ; and 
 I did not learn it, because it was not penned 
 down in my speech ; but, if your honour 
 thinks it proper, I will repeat the oration, 
 and add the amen with all my heart." 
 
 " You shall not give yourself that trouble 
 on my account," said Eleanor ; " and I dare 
 venture to say, your lady my cousin is per- 
 fectly satisfied. But, most illustrious Gregory, 
 in your incomparable harangue, you tell us 
 that mumming at May-tide is agreeable to 
 ancient custom : on the contrary, it appears 
 to me this sport has no sanction from pre- 
 scription, excepting it be holden at the fes- 
 tival of our Lord's nativity, and the holidays 
 subsequent, and, when properly conducted, 
 is under the direction of the Lord of Mis- 
 rule, or the Twelfth-night King of the Bean."
 
 57 
 
 " This misweening, my lady/' quoth Gre- 
 gory, " arises from lack of conning in antick 
 usages; but, had I one well skilled in such 
 leer to hold debate with me, I would, by craft 
 of rhetoric, confront him by such provings as 
 he might not gainsay." 
 
 " And whom can we find," said the Lady 
 Eleanor, " more fitting to handle such an ar- 
 gument than the chamberlain, who, in the 
 absence of the seneschal, is master of the 
 ceremonies, and well acquainted with prece- 
 dents ?" 
 
 u Gramercy, my lady," returned the Jester, 
 " you will stint the debate at a word, if your 
 choice shall fall upon Oswald ; for he, I trow, 
 is well avised, and cannot gainsay me." 
 
 " Hasty conclusions, friend Gregory," said 
 the chamberlain, " are often false; — and such 
 is that you have made at this stound; for, 
 certes, I agree with the Lady Eleanor." — 
 
 " Why then," quoth the Jester, " I will 
 gage my new-gilt bauble against your satin
 
 58 
 
 cap and feather, (and the odds, you wot well, 
 are largely in your favour,) that I will proven 
 you devoid of advisement in antick glee- 
 games ; and their ladyships shall award the 
 mastery." 
 
 " I shall not stoop at this time to take up 
 the gauntlet," said the chamberlain gravely ; 
 " for, certes, I am not in the humour for 
 fooling." 
 
 " Pardie, that is a selcouth saying," re- 
 torted the Jester, " and not well worthy of 
 credence. I beseech you twirl this bauble 
 as I do : it will then be said you have played 
 the fool once in your lifetime, and sithence 
 I will proven that you have overdone me at 
 my own craft." 
 
 " That conclusion is it least paradoxical," 
 said the Lady Eleanor. — 
 
 " Not a whit, my lady," quoth the Jester; 
 "and I areed you to note the answer. — It 
 is said he plays the fool but once in his life- 
 time ; and well ye may wot, that once signi-
 
 59 
 
 ties all the time he has lived, or that he is a 
 fool by nature : — my occupation requires me 
 to |>lay the fool, and ye say I often do so ; by 
 this ye may understand L have some vaca- 
 tions from folly." 
 
 " It is shrewdly answered," said the lady. 
 " The knave," quoth Oswald, " shoots at 
 random ; but he shoots often, and, paravaunt, 
 unwittingly may strike the mark." 
 
 " The toad has spit its venom without no)'- 
 ance," answered the Jester ; ** and if your 
 pannikel, Sir Gravity, were set for a mark, I 
 would 'vise you to beware of a second bolt I 
 am about to discharge. — And now, my lady, 
 permit me to say a word or two on the dis- 
 port of mumming : — And first, we may learn 
 that a mummer is a person in disguisement, 
 or one who personates another ; — as thus, 
 when his lordship's minstrels and playmen set 
 forth their moralities, and enterlodes, they 
 are in disguisements, — some like kings, some 
 like great barons, some like ladies, some like
 
 60 
 
 angels, some like devils, and some like wild 
 beasts ; and what are these but mummers ? 
 Now ye wot well, these enterlodes are per- 
 formed on divers occasions, and at divers 
 times, as at Easter, and at Whitsuntide, and 
 other great festivals and merry-makings. — 
 And to-day, saw you not many mummers, 
 such as jolly Robin and his bold outlaws, one 
 of them in semblance of a miller, another in 
 guise of a friar, myself as a hobby-horse, and 
 Peter Parker like a dragon? — Those disguise- 
 ments belong to the May-day pageant, and 
 require the May-pole, and the May-pole re- 
 quires them, — and are the disport of olden 
 times ; for May-poles, I warrant, were set up 
 in Paynim days : — and ancient saws set forth, 
 that King Arthur, so famous for his doughty 
 deeds, took upon him the part of Robin 
 Hood; and his valiant comrades, the Knights 
 of the Round Table, became mummers to 
 dance about the May-pole. Sithence, I trow,
 
 61 
 
 ye may conclude that mumming on May-day 
 is of right an tick usage." 
 
 " Bating a trifling anachronism relating to 
 the celebrated British hero, you have, friend 
 Gregory," said the Lady Eleanor, " well sup- 
 ported your argument;" — and, taking the ba- 
 ron's fair daughter by the hand, she thus ad- 
 dressed herself to her : " Come, my dear Ma- 
 tilda, now it has been proved that we shall 
 be acting in consonance with the customs of 
 our ancestors, let us, I pray you, walk into 
 the hall." 
 
 The Lady Matilda sought to excuse her- 
 self, declaring that she was fatigued already, 
 and had not the least relish for any addition 
 to the pastimes. The Lady Eleanor would 
 not admit of any excuse : — " You are grow- 
 ing," said she, " more grave than usual, and 
 giving way to melancholy. I promoted the 
 argument which Gregory has so sagely dis- 
 cussed, to make you smile, but without ef- 
 fect; besides, you must go, or the perform-
 
 6° 
 
 crs will be most cruelly disappointed, wh» 
 ardently expect to be honoured by your pre- 
 sence." 
 
 " I cannot deny you any thing/' returned 
 the lady with a smile; " but in truth I was 
 never less disposed for merriment than at this 
 moment." 
 
 So saying, she permitted her cousin to lead 
 her into the hall, preceded by the chamber- 
 lain, who ceremoniously conducted them to 
 their places. They were followed by Gregory, 
 who, quaintly aping the state assumed by the 
 chamberlain, afforded great amusement to 
 the spectators. When the ladies were seated, 
 six young men, clothed in light orange-co- 
 loured tunics, guarded upon the sleeves with 
 blue ribbons, appeared, bare-headed ; and 
 every one of them held a hand-bell in each 
 hand. They came into the middle of the 
 hall, and rang a variety of changes ; and the 
 performance was much commended by the
 
 6: 
 
 ladies. At the conclusion of the peal, this 
 soncr was sunc: to the music of the hells : — 
 
 When full in prime (he pulse is strong, 
 And wanton youth hails mirth and song; 
 Cares avaunt, and fears alarming ! — 
 Joy abounds, with pleasures charming. 
 Chorus, with the btlk. 
 How sweetly then the changes ring, 
 With heigh down, ho down, ding dong ding. 
 
 But when bright youth shall fade away, 
 And age transmew the black locks grey ; — 
 When tott'ring steps the staff demand, 
 And palsies shake the head and hand ; 
 The sprightly changes cease to ring, 
 With heigh down, ho down, ding dong ding. 
 
 The carol blithe and dancing gay 
 
 No longer claim the holiday ; 
 
 But time a doleful story tells, 
 
 The bell-rope breaks, and cracks the bells ; — 
 The bells that did so cheerly ring, 
 With heigh down, ho down, ding dong ding. 
 
 The deep-ton'd tenour tolls the knell, — 
 
 A summons for departure home ; 
 Of life it is the curfew-bell, 
 
 And heavily it sounds, Boam ! — Boam ! — 
 One, one dull bell no change can ring, 
 With heigh down, ho down, ding dong ding.
 
 64 
 
 <c 
 
 This song, my dear Matilda," said the 
 Lady Eleanor, " is the work of a knavish 
 kind of poet: the beginning was so cheerful, 
 that I was almost inclined to rise and dance 
 a measure ; but the close is so dismal, that 
 positively it makes me melancholy." 
 
 Before the baron's fair daughter could re- 
 turn an answer, the ringers struck up again ; 
 and, bowing to the ladies, retreated to the 
 bottom of the hall, where they imitated the 
 falling of the bells, and then withdrew. 
 
 They were succeeded by twelve damsels, 
 habited in white plaited rochets, with gir- 
 dles of Coventry blue ; and their heads were 
 adorned with garlands of primroses, inter- 
 mixed with cowslips. After they had danced 
 a short time, they were joined by a like num- 
 ber of young men dressed in green tunics, 
 resembling foresters, every one of them ha- 
 ving a bugle-horn suspended from his left 
 sboulder by a baldric of silver tissue ; their 
 hose were of watchet-coloured fustian, and
 
 65 
 
 their caps were of crimson taffety, ornament- 
 ed with peacocks' feathers. 
 
 At a certain period of the dance, they 
 sounded their horns, and suddenly there ap- 
 peared, at the bottom of the hall, six un- 
 comely figures, in the form of lions, tygers, 
 and bears : — the women seemed to be fright- 
 ened, and, as the mummers approached, drew 
 up six in a company on either side of the 
 ladies ; and three of the men, drawing their 
 daggers, stood on the one side, and a second 
 three on the other side, as though it were 
 to protect them from danger ; at the same 
 time, the remaining six foresters, drawing 
 also their daggers, attacked the beasts ; and 
 every man, having overcome the animal he 
 fought with, cast him upon the ground, and 
 ripping open the disguisements, they were all 
 uncased, and six pages, in their proper habits, 
 arose, and joined the dance. The music was 
 performed by Peretto the minstrel, with his 
 associates ; and, the dance being concluded^ 
 
 vol. I. E
 
 66' 
 
 the dancers formed themselves into two rows, 
 and between them Robin Hood and his com- 
 panions passed in procession, as they had 
 done on the Green. — And so ended the cele- 
 bration of the May -games. 
 
 2
 
 67 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 A SCENE AT A COUNTRY ALEHOUSE. 
 
 Ihe reader may well suppose, that the sur- 
 prising adventures that took place at the ce- 
 lebration of the May-games, and the splendid 
 victory achieved by the unknown champion, 
 occasioned much conversation, and gave rise 
 to various conjectures among the different 
 ranks of spectators : — this was really the case. 
 Among the ladies, some thought him of low 
 degree, and said the baron's daughter affected 
 prudery, in order to conceal her attachment 
 to him ; others considered his conduct as an 
 effusion of youthful gallantry ; others laughed, 
 and whispered one to another, as though they 
 knew more of the secret than the rest of the
 
 company; and others, again, who saw more 
 beauty in their mirrors than in the counte- 
 nance of the Lady Matilda, thought he had 
 manifested much deficiency of discernment 
 by the preference he had given to her. Many 
 of the old dames of the village, who accre- 
 dited the stories of witches and hobgoblins, 
 took the whole of the adventure for an illusion 
 of the foul fiend ; others said, the stranger 
 was the wandering fairy Robin Goodfellow, 
 or some such merry sprite, and that all his at- 
 tendants were elves or goblins ; — these good 
 souls retired from the Green, crossing them- 
 selves, and counting their beads with great 
 devotion, saying a paternoster or an ave- 
 mary or two, and carefully conning over their 
 night-spell, as the best preservative against 
 the danger of enchantment, and to prevent 
 their being goblin-led. But, though no one 
 knew who the champion was, yet the men 
 in general applauded his courage, and the 
 females agreed in praising his figure, his
 
 69 
 
 activeness, and the gentility of his deport- 
 ment. 
 
 Shortly after the conclusion of the May- 
 day pastimes, when the evening was set in, 
 certain of the inferior spectators, as Hugh 
 the carrier, Pierce the potter, Wat Coulter 
 the ploughman, and some others of their 
 merry companions who loved the ale-can, 
 agreed to go to Hob Filcher's, at the Crown, 
 on the Lower Green ; — " where," says Hugh, 
 " these stranger folk stopped in their way ; 
 and I will wager a cross, or two if occasion 
 requires, that Hob knows more of the matter 
 than any of us. So be we make him mellow 
 with his own ale, he will tell us all for the 
 guerdon." — This said, away they went; and 
 thither, with the reader's permission, we will 
 follow them. 
 
 Our jovial company, being come to the 
 Crown, found Robin Tosspot the butcher's 
 man, Jack the basket-maker of Wellwyn,
 
 70 
 
 and some other Itisty. drinkers, already as- 
 sembled there ; and in the midst of the room 
 sat Bernard the blind bagpiper of Hartford,, 
 who was playing a fit of music ; and when 
 he had done, Giltys the juggler started up 
 and said, " By the bones, my masters, but if 
 you would see a sight well worth the guerdon, 
 I am the man who can quit you. — Would 
 you see any legerdemain or cleanly convey- 
 ance, called by the learned clerks deceptio 
 visas; because, my masters, if your eyes are 
 not as quick as my hands, I shall put the 
 changeling upon you. — There," added he, 
 throwing a crab-apple upon the table, " what 
 call you that, I prithee ?" 
 
 " Out upon thee for a lozel!" said Tosspot ; 
 " dost think we be such seely lobs as not to 
 know a crab r" 
 
 "To be sure; why not?" replied the jug- 
 gler; " wiser men than you have been de- 
 ceived. — Look ye, my masters, all fair play, 
 and above board, — I will shew you, for a
 
 71 
 
 tester, more craft, and as cleanly cast, as 
 John Rikeil the king's tregetour will for two 
 angels of gold. — You see, I cover this crab 
 with this cup of latten ; and you," addressing 
 himself to Tosspot, <c clap your hand upon it, 
 and hold it down, for fear the apple should 
 be gone." — Robin readily obeyed, looking 
 slily at his comrades; and the juggler conti- 
 nued his harangue : — " Hark-ye, my masters, 
 if my familiar deceive me not, I will send this 
 poor John a-nutting on holy-rood day to meet 
 the foul fiend." 
 
 " Ay marry," cried Robin, " you talk main 
 well, master juggler; but I ben't to be cou- 
 sened so easily as you think for." 
 
 " Certainly not," said Gillys ; — " for here 
 is the crab, my masters," holding it up in 
 the sight of the company : 
 
 " Then let the sot 
 Uncover the pot, 
 And see what a dainty fine apple he's got."
 
 72 
 
 " For all your bantering," said Robin, " I 
 have another crab under the cup, I trow :" — 
 but, raising it from the table, there appeared, 
 to the great astonishment of the spectators, 
 in place of the apple, a young howlet. 
 
 " I thought how it would be, my masters," 
 quoth the juggler ; " Birds of a feather flock 
 together: — and the woodcock is fairly spring- 
 ed." 
 
 Robin looked very foolish, and his com- 
 rades burst into a roar of laughter; — the owl, 
 being frightened by the noise, flew from the 
 table, and perched upon one of the shelves. 
 
 " You shall now see," said Gillys, " that 
 I can readily bring my hawk to the lure ;" — 
 when, imitating the hooting of an owl, the 
 bird flew down to him, and he put it into a 
 pouch which hung by his side. The clowns 
 were wonderfully delighted with this perfor- 
 mance ; but Tib the innkeeper's wife, be- 
 lieving the owl to be in reality an evil spirit,
 
 73 
 
 counted her beads, and crossed herself for 
 security's sake. 
 
 " And now, my good masters," continued 
 the juggler, clapping a box upon the table, 
 "I have here a jack-in-the-box, the greatest 
 curiosity ever seen in this or any other coun- 
 try. — This wonderful motion has travelled 
 farther than Noah's ark.— It was exhibited, 
 with unspeakable applause, to Mahound, Sol- 
 dan of Constantinople, when he dined with 
 the Emperor Sigismund, at the palace of the 
 Seneschal of Nineveh, where the Dolphin of 
 France tilted with the Prince of Fess for the 
 fair Sabrina, daughter to the Queen of Bo- 
 hemia. The King of Spain preferred it to 
 all the tricks set forth by ten select compa- 
 nies of minstrels. All the crowned heads 
 in Europe speak highly of its merit; and our 
 own gracious Sovereign was so delighted with 
 it, that he commanded me to play it over 
 five times, and gave ten marks for my reward; 
 and his excellency the Protector, Humphrey
 
 Duke of Gloucester, gave me two angels of 
 gold from his own private purse." 
 
 So saying, he handed his bonnet round 
 among the rustics, to collect their donations; 
 but, rinding they did not communicate very 
 liberally, he added; " Maister John Rikell, 
 the king's tregetour, offered me fifty pounds 
 in gold, and a place next to himself in his 
 company, for this admirable motion; but I 
 warrant ye, my masters, I refused him, and 
 would have refused him had he offered twice 
 as much; for the whole world cannot pro- 
 duce its fellow. Why should you, then, by 
 withholding a few pence, deprive yourselves 
 of a sight you never may have another op- 
 portunity of seeing ?" 
 
 He then put his bonnet about a second 
 time ; and when he had collected all the 
 money together that he could, he opened 
 the box, and produced the puppet, dressed 
 like a Moorish lady. Bernard played a tune 
 appropriated to the purpose upon the jug-
 
 75 
 
 rfer's vielle, and Gillys caused the figure to 
 perform all the motions of a dance in such a 
 manner as surprised his spectators, who ex- 
 pressed their satisfaction by reiterated ap- 
 plauses. The performance being ended, the 
 ineeler and his companion were preparing 
 to depart, when Hugh the carrier, having 
 collected three-pence more, called for a song. 
 Gillys took the money; and, playing himself 
 upon the vielle, was accompanied by Bernard 
 upon the bagpipes; and, after a short pre- 
 lude, he sang the following verses : 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Fill to the brim this lusty can 
 With double ale and stout ; 
 The wight I deem not half a man 
 Who dare not see it out. 
 Chorus. 
 Heigh ho, the ale so brown : 
 Fill it here,— fill it there : 
 Every one shall have his share. 
 
 The burley knight is sick, they say : 
 The friar's ill at ease ;
 
 7o 
 
 The serving-mao is drunk to-day ; 
 And all have oik dise: e. 
 
 Heigh ho, the ale so brown, &c. 
 
 Then, if the men who wear the hood 
 
 No sin in drinking find, 
 Let's hold, such practice must be good; 
 
 And leave no drop behind. 
 
 Heigh ho, the ale so brown, &c. 
 
 But give the churl a winding-sheet, 
 Who from his drink will fly : — 
 
 Let him, the hungry worms to treat, 
 In yonder church-yard lie. 
 
 Heigh ho, the ale so brown, &c. 
 
 And o'er his carcase cast a stone, 
 
 To keep the niggard there : 
 He well deserves to lie alone, 
 
 Who poisons joy with care. 
 
 Heigh ho, the ale so brown, &c. 
 
 But lightly may the green sod lie 
 
 O'er us, with daisies dight, 
 When death shall drain our last bowl dry, 
 
 And bid us say, Good night ! 
 
 Heigh ho, the ale so brown, &c. 
 
 And, fellow-topers, when the wake 
 Or church-ale calls you nigh, 
 
 O'er us libations largely make, 
 To greet us merrily. 
 
 Heigh ho, the ale so brown, &c,
 
 77 
 
 What, though with linen shroud y-bouud, 
 
 And on our cold bed laid, 
 Our sprites may hail the welcome sound, 
 And own the duty paid. 
 
 Heigh ho, the ale so brown ; 
 Fill it here,— fill it there : 
 Every one shall have his share. 
 
 (( 
 
 By Saint Runyan," cried Robin, u I 
 would not give a stewed pruin for such ano- 
 ther song ! it is as long as a vesper, and as 
 dull as a homily : as I am a true man, it smells 
 of Lent, when Sir John the curate talks of 
 penance, and ends as molloncholly as a dirge. 
 Go to, I'll sing you a song, my masters." 
 
 " Ay marry, that's another matter," said 
 the host ; " why, Robin, you be a very dra- 
 gon at a song ; — your voice is so loud, it will 
 frighten the howlets ; — it would make a rare 
 second to the roaring of Grim the miller's 
 water-fall." 
 
 " The fool's bolt is shot, I trow," answered 
 Robin ; " look you to your tankard, good-
 
 man gorbelly : this ilk song, you ma\ r ween,, 
 was sung in the cnderloot-play at Saint Ma- 
 ry's church by one of the merry wags with a 
 blue beard, who thrust the three barns into 
 the fiery oven. Allen our parish-clerk penned 
 it down, and I gave him a stoop of strong 
 ale to con it from him. It has a burden ; 
 and you raun all bear a part with me, or it 
 will be stark naught. — Judge now fairly, my 
 masters : — 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Bring hither ale — both stout and stale, 
 
 Nor let me stinted be ; 
 I never think — but how to drink ; 
 And drinking should be free. 
 Chorus. 
 Then trowl the bowl : 
 Waesheal to every thirsty soul. 
 
 The merry sprite — who walks by night, 
 
 Good Fellow, well you know, 
 Was once a man, — true to his cann, 
 
 Like us, my hearts, I trow. 
 Then trowl the bowl, &c.
 
 79 
 
 But when the clay — he'd wash'd away, 
 
 That once his body fram'd ; 
 All light was he, — and full of glee, 
 
 Hobgoblin justly nam'd. 
 
 Then trowl the bowl, &c. 
 
 Come, drink away — both night and day ; 
 
 Let not our throats be dry : 
 And so shall we — transformed be 
 To elves, and never die. 
 Then trowl the bowl : 
 Waesheal to every thirsty soul. 
 
 " By the blood," cried Hob Richer, " but 
 it is well done ! Robin's song for my money. 
 Give's your hand, my heart: you and I are 
 stanch back and edge: we shall make rare 
 elves, and bask all night upon the warm 
 hearth by the glowing embers of the Christ- 
 mas log, and, when we fling away at the 
 crowing of the cock, drop a cross of silver 
 into the shoe of the cleanly house-wench: 
 but, by the lord of Lincoln, we will soundly 
 catterclaw the idle queans who leave us a 
 dirty house to range in." The juggler, find-
 
 80 
 
 ing that there was no chance of drawing any 
 more coin from the company, wished them 
 good-night, and departed with his compa- 
 nion towards Hertford. 
 
 After they were gone, the can went mer- 
 rily round ; and Hob the inn-keeper, who 
 had drunk pretty freely, began to reel; when 
 Hugh, clapping him upon the shoulder, said, 
 " Come, my jolly host, sing us your favourite 
 song, 
 
 " Here is a pot of nappy good ale, 
 As clear as crystal, neat and stale." 
 
 tt 
 
 A fig for the favourite," quoth Hob; 
 
 give me a stoop of clary ; that is my fa- 
 vourite." 
 
 " In good time," returned Hugh; " but let 
 us have the song first." 
 
 " Say no more about it," cried Hob ; fori 
 am as hoarse as a cuckoo in June : and, by 
 the blood, I will not sing for the best king's 
 son in Christendom : but an it be for drink-
 
 81 
 
 ing, my hearts, body of me, you shall not 
 find my peer in ten parishes." 
 
 " That's a goodly jape in sooth," quoth 
 Hugh ; " do we not all know that Tosspot 
 can fight vou at that weapon, and baffle ye 
 by odds f 
 
 " By the blood, thou art a false knave to 
 say so," answered the host : " am I not the 
 imp's master ? did I not first instruct him in 
 the mysteries of the ale-pot, and teach him 
 to turn off his bowl with good discretion ?" 
 
 "Truce with your bickering," cried Robin; 
 — " Hob is talking of my nonage, when I was 
 a puelling boy, and wore a chin unfledged ; 
 but, by the lord of Lincoln, if he dare cast 
 the gauntlet now, I am his man. — Look you, 
 my masters, if he provoke me to my daring- 
 do, I will empty his cellars before the prime 
 beH rings, and marr his occupation for two 
 moons to come !" 
 
 " Many come up," quoth Hob, « the ban- 
 dog bays most furiously ; but he has lost his 
 
 VOL. 1. F
 
 82 
 
 teeth, my hearts : an I had the lozel foot to 
 foot till cock-crowing, I'd make him stare 
 worse than the juggler did after his h owlet." 
 This sarcasm produced a general laugh, and 
 Robin made no reply. 
 
 The conversation afterwards turned upon 
 the May-game, and Hob Filcher declared, 
 that it wanted many knackeries to be com- 
 plete ; " For George the pinner of Wake- 
 field," said he, " was not there, nor Bettris 
 his leman, nor Will Scarlet the jolly Shrop- 
 shire man. When I was a boy we had an- 
 other guess May-game : I have laughed till 
 I cracked my sides to see Robin Hood break 
 the potter boy's pipkins, and fight with the 
 potter." 
 
 " That strain," said Jack of Wellwyn, " is 
 in the enterloot, and I warrant me was rarely 
 enacted by the play folk at Saint Albans. 
 But what say you, Hob, to the savage man, 
 who so mawled poor Morris the mole-taker, 
 and knocked Sampson over the sconce with 
 
 5
 
 83 
 
 as little ruth as thof he'd been in the smithy, 
 and smiting at the anvil; what mister wight 
 was he ?" 
 
 " Body o' me," returned the host, " he is 
 a lusty revelour, I warrant me, with his merry- 
 men all in a row. They called here anon be- 
 fore the fight, and eat and drank like roysters; 
 and when the reckoning was conned, the jolly 
 savage thrust into my hand a noble more 
 than the costs. He weaned I did not know 
 him ; but, by the bones, I kenned him right 
 well : for I noted him when he doffed his 
 ugly visor to drink ; but I was as mute as a 
 fish — you know my guise — and wean ye well, 
 my hearts, he is no elfin wight, but a roar- 
 ing blade. He wonnes not in Goblin-land, 
 but in the land of abundance — in the king's 
 own house I trow. Why, do ye think that I 
 should forget my former playmate, Jaques 
 Duseday." 
 
 Duseday ! " cried Jack of Wellwyn with 
 
 tc
 
 84 
 
 surprise. u What, Duseday the famous prize- 
 fighter ?" 
 
 " The same/' answered Hob, " and none 
 other, or I am a knave, my hearts." 
 
 " He you mean," quoth Jack, "who tur- 
 neyed at chop and foyne with sharp brands 
 against Mudge the cudgel-player, before the 
 king at Saint Albans." 
 
 " He is no changeling, I tell you," said the 
 host. 
 
 By the lord of Lincoln," continued Jack, 
 
 I am nought astouned that Morris fared 
 so foully ; and our comrade, Sampson, may 
 well bid his beads for escaping with a broken 
 coxcomb. Why this fire-drake is master-man 
 in the company of jugglers belonging to John 
 Rikell, the king's tregetour ; he is the scare- 
 crow of the country. By the rood, I marvel 
 hugely who this same borrel beetle, trans- 
 mewed into a silken butterfly, might be, that 
 stinted the juggler's boasting, and made his 

 
 85 
 
 big bones cry twang ho; how bight ye him, 
 mine host?" 
 
 To this Hob replied, " I ween, my hearts, 
 he was the foul fiend benemped Belzebub. 
 He came, I trow, from Sathan's paradise, and 
 I hope he is gone to purgatory." 
 
 " By the lord of Lincoln," cried Jack, 
 w you have said sooth for the nonce. He 
 must have been the devil or Friar Rush, 
 to have yshent the juggler so reproachful- 
 
 " That same borrel knight," said Hugh, 
 " benemp him how ye may, was a tall man 
 and a brave " 
 
 " He a tall man !" cried Hob ; " the foul 
 fiend afray him, he is a carle, a princox. — 1'Jl 
 tell ye, my hearts, this tall man, with his 
 gay train as crank as peacocks, passed my 
 doors without giving me the good-day, or 
 hansling a single cross with me for luck's 
 sake." 
 
 ' Marry, that was a shrewd ill guise of
 
 S6 
 
 his," cried Tosspot ; ** for I hold no wight 
 stalvvorth and true who passes a taverner's 
 hush without tasting his wine. He is a knave, 
 in my liking, who cannot trowl his bowl or- 
 derly, or refuses the woesheal when the pot 
 is thrust towards him." 
 
 " By the blood, my jolly heart," quoth 
 Hob, " we be both of one mind. Look at 
 Jaques Duseday, he is a man at all points: 
 he never refuses to pledge his fellow : he 
 smacks his lips like a lusty blood after a deep 
 draught, and calls out amain, — let us have no 
 stinting, my masters. I warrant I lost six or 
 eight marks by his downfall. I looked for 
 him back again ; but he coured away like a 
 fox from the hounds, or we should have been 
 merry as grigs, and the ale and the clary had 
 flowed as from a fountain." 
 
 By this time the clowns began to find 
 their heads well stored with the fumes of the 
 liquor ; and Hugh the carrier, whose business 
 required his attendance early in the morning,
 
 87 
 
 rose up, saying, " I ween, my masters, we 
 shall learn no more at this tide respecting 
 the borrel knight; he is an arrant stranger 
 to us all " 
 
 " And so let him be," quoth Robin, inter- 
 rupting him ; " I care not he be an elf, a 
 ghost, or the man o' the moon; he will not, I 
 trow, put one cross into my pouch, nor set a 
 bowl of clary upon the table. — Come, hostess, 
 fill the can ; we'll take t'other bout, and let 
 the right sow claim her own pig for me." 
 
 " I'll have no more," retorted Hugh ; " the 
 night wears apace, and I must be off for Lon- 
 don by the prime." 
 
 " And as I live," said Jack of Wellwyn, 
 " my brains are in a maze ; the world turns 
 round like a whirligig, as the stronomers 
 sayen, and if I tarry much longer, I shall 
 peradventure walk wide of the path, and roll 
 into the gravel pit in Lochly warren." 
 
 " I guessed how 'twould be," exclaimed 
 Robin pettishly ; "it is ever your guise when.
 
 88 
 
 3 r ou get into the marrow of good fellowship, 
 to slink off like cravens, and leave me in the 
 lurch. — What, you will go ? then the foul 
 fiend take you to fool's purgatory. — Here is 
 Hob Filcher and I, we never flinch. — Come, 
 dame, bring me a crab from the fire, and 
 we'll see the bottom of this can before cock 
 crowing ; and then I'll crawl home as merry 
 as a cricket." 
 
 The reckoning being paid, the company 
 departed, singing as they went, excepting- 
 Robin, who, with his friend Hob, were seated 
 in the chimney corner with a full can of ale 
 before them ; and Tit the innkeeper's wife 
 fell fast asleep in the great chair.
 
 89 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE LADIES. 
 
 A MORNING WALK. — AN ADVENTURE. 
 
 When the mummery and dancing were 
 concluded, the baron's fair daughter with- 
 drew to her chamber, accompanied by her 
 lovely cousin; who assisted her in removing 
 the chaplet from her head. — " I have hardly 
 seen it," said she, taking it into her hands: 
 and when she had carefully reviewed it, she 
 expressed her surprise at the richness and 
 elegancy of the ornaments ; and added, " In- 
 deed I have been to blame for giving en- 
 couragement to these May-games; this ad- 
 venture, of course, will become the common 
 talk of the village. Ignorance may give origin
 
 90 
 
 to many misrepresentations of the fact, and 
 malevolence take the advantage to interpose 
 its unmerited censures." 
 
 " To none, my dearest cousin/' returned 
 the Lady Eleanor, " that can cast the least 
 blemish upon your character; and therefore, I 
 beseech you, be not in the least uneasy upon 
 that account. The world, with all its petu- 
 lance, is not unreasonable enough to blame 
 you for the fault, if fault there be, of your 
 unknown lover." 
 
 "Lover!" retorted the Lady Matilda; "fye, 
 fye!" 
 
 " Not in the least," answered her cousin ; 
 a for every one will naturally believe the che- 
 valier's own declaration ; he professed pub- 
 licly his adoration ; he overcame the savage 
 for your sake ; he laid the reward of his 
 achievement at your feet, and hailed you the 
 Sovereign of the May. In my mind now, 
 my dear Matilda, this unknown wooer, for 
 such I hold him to be, has deported himself
 
 91 
 
 like a puissant and an accomplished hero ; 
 being desperately in love, as a true knight 
 ought to be, and as debonair as though Sir 
 Tristrem, the flower of courtesy, had been his 
 tutor." 
 
 " Your merriment, my good cousin, is al- 
 together untimely; I do not wish to hear 
 any more of this jack-a-lantern." 
 
 The serious manner in which the Lady 
 Matilda expressed herself, joined with the 
 oddness of the concluding phrase, made her 
 cousin laugh ; and, with an air of pleasantry, 
 she replied, " You do the champion wrong, 
 my fair lady, to confound him with a mis- 
 chievous goblin. I am much deceived if he 
 be not made with flesh and blood like other 
 men ; and peradventure he is the heir appa- 
 rent of some great king or mighty empe- 
 ror; so, through his persevering spirit, the 
 daughter of Lord Boteler may become a 
 queen or an empress. It will, however, be 
 positively necessary, according to the esta-
 
 .92 
 
 blished rules of chivalry, for the dear un- 
 known prince to take you away by stealth, 
 in the dead of the night, from Queenhoo^ 
 hall, — marry you at Bramfield oratory; and, 
 notwithstanding all the enquiries made after 
 you by the baron your father, and all the 
 outcries I of course must make upon the oc- 
 casion, you and your august consort, after 
 escaping ten thousand imminentdangeis, shall 
 reach the capital of his vast dominions, at a 
 time when all the world give him over for 
 lost, and his venerable father is erecting a 
 cenotaph to his memory. The grey-headed 
 old man will die suddenly for joy at seeing 
 his son returned ; the prince and you will de- 
 luge the earth with tears for the loss of such 
 an excellent parent ; and the next day your 
 joint coronation will take place, with every 
 due solemnity; when tournaments and justs 
 will be exhibited upon the happy occasion — 
 the bells ringing — bonfires blazing — cresset 
 lights streaming — conduits running wine —
 
 93 
 
 and the populace rejoicing; with such pomp 
 and such pageantry as never was seen be- 
 fore :— and will not all this, my dear Matilda, 
 be mightily fine ?" 
 
 * And mightily consistent withal," returned 
 the Lady Matilda. 
 
 " It is very unreasonable in you," said Elea- 
 nor, " to expect consistency in a romance. 
 The very essence of legendary chivalry is to 
 exceed the bounds of congruity; for if an 
 author permits his hero to eat, to drink, to 
 sleep, or to perform any of the functions of 
 life like a reasonable being, he degrades his 
 romance to a common history, and his hero 
 to a common man. Every thing in romance 
 must be wild,, imaginary, and unnatural : a 
 true knight will live twenty years at a stretch 
 in a dark dungeon, with no other food than 
 rats and mice, and without sleeping; but, 
 when he takes it into his head to exert his 
 strength, for wonderment sake, he will burst 
 his adamantine chains asunder, beat down
 
 94 
 
 the prison door with his fist, beat out the 
 jailor's brains with one of' the bars, and kill a 
 thousand or two of Pagan kempery men, who 
 are appointed to guard him, and then walk 
 off in triumph, as sleek and as fresh coloured 
 as Cecil his lordship's butler. The heathen 
 daughter of the Soldan of Persia, who chances 
 to be passing by at the time, falls instantly in 
 love with this puissant hero, turns Christian 
 to oblige him, and follows him through the 
 world, leaving her aged father to curse his 
 false gods, tear his milk-white hair, and break 
 his hard heart with sorrow for her departure. 
 And trust me, my dearest cousin, when you 
 shall become an heroine, as the prospect be- 
 fore you seems to promise, all things will 
 wear a different aspect in your eyes; cottages 
 will be changed into palaces — palaces into 
 enchanted castles — the possessors into giants 
 — their wives and their daughters into ladies 
 in distress — their servants into dwarfs — their 
 dogs into dragons — and their hawks into
 
 95 
 
 griffins. And when your puissant consort 
 shall think it requisite, for no possible reason 
 that I can divine but to reconvince you of 
 his prowess, to leave his peaceful dominions, 
 and seek abroad for perilous adventures, how 
 delightful will it be for you, riding upon a 
 stately palfrey by his side, or mounted be- 
 hind him, so be it please you better so to 
 travel, as the old ditty has it — 
 
 Over bog, over mire, 
 
 Through bush, and through briar, 
 And gloomy forests far astray, 
 
 Where never hapless wight, 
 
 By day-tide nor by night, 
 Explor'd the dark and devious way. 
 
 I, alas ! have no such splendid fortune falling 
 to my lot ! No champion, prow and full of 
 hardyhood, to become my protector, and lead 
 me through the wide world, killing of two- 
 headed giants — or flying serpents — or fiery 
 dragons — or putting to flight whole hosts of 
 fearful hobgoblins — and all for my amuse- 
 ment !"
 
 96 
 
 " If these sarcastic effusions of your gaiety, 
 my dearest cousin, afford you pleasure, go on 
 with them/' said the Lady Matilda; " but, 
 for my part, Ido not find the least amuse- 
 ment in them Indeed, my mind is ill at 
 ease ; and the more I reflect upon the unto- 
 ward occurrences of the day, the more my 
 thoughts are bewildered, and my anxiety in- 
 creased." — She paused for a moment ; when, 
 taking her cousin by the hand, she, heaving 
 an involuntary sigh, added ; " I sincerely 
 wish I had borne no part in them • — but it is 
 now approaching apace to midnight, and if 
 you please, my cousin, we will go to our 
 beds." — The Lady Eleanor readily complied 
 with her proposal, hoping that rest would be 
 more conducive to the removal of the lady'3 
 disquietude, than the continuation of her rail- 
 leries.
 
 97 
 
 The next day the Lady Matilda arose at 
 an early hour ; she had slept but little, her 
 mind being agitated by the events of the 
 preceding afternoon. Perceiving the morn- 
 ing to be exceedingly serene and beautiful, 
 she called to her cousin, who slept in an 
 apartment which communicated with her 
 own, and desired to know if a walk before 
 breakfast would be agreeable. — " The sky," 
 said she, " is unclouded ; the little birds 
 are singing in the thickets ; and every thing 
 that is charming in rural retirement invites 
 us abroad." 
 
 " With all my heart," replied the Lady 
 Eleanor; " it is indeed a delightful morning, 
 and I have been awake some time listening 
 to the notes of a thrush that is carolling in 
 the garden, not far removed from my win- 
 dow." 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 58 
 
 When they were prepared for their ex- 
 cursion, the baron's fair daughter proposed a 
 visit to the Park Lodge. — " 1 put," says she, 
 " a mantle of sendal into the hands of the 
 ranger's daughters when I leftTewin, in order 
 that it might be embroidered by them ; I 
 do not indeed suppose they can have com- 
 pleted the work by this time, but I am desi- 
 rous of seeing what progress has been made : 
 the border, my dear cousin, consists of a 
 running sprig, embellished with foliage and 
 flowers, and the pattern was designed and 
 drawn by myself." 
 
 I know," returned the Lady Eleanor, 
 you draw very finely ; and as I have never 
 seen this pattern, I will readily accompany 
 you thither." 
 
 " You are a flatterer, my cousin, and 
 greatly over-rate my poor abilities," said Ma- 
 tilda, blushing : w the design has nothing 
 uncommon to recommend it ; but you shall 
 
 see it with all its faults." So saying, they 
 
 2 
 
 a 
 
 tt
 
 99 
 
 proceeded to Parker the ranger's habita- 
 tion. 
 
 Upon their arrival, the Lady Matilda was 
 much surprised to find the embroidery upon 
 the mantle not only completed, but the work 
 wasexecuted inamannersuperiortotheyoung 
 women's usual performances. The Lady Elea- 
 nor declared, that she knew not which de- 
 served the greatest praise, the elegancy of 
 the pattern, or the excellency of the needle- 
 work. — "This diligence ought to be reward- 
 ed," said the baron's fair daughter. And 
 putting her hand into a gipsire hanging 
 from her girdle, she drew out an angel of 
 gold, which she presented to the eldest girl, 
 desiring her to share it with her sisters. 
 
 (C Certes," quoth the damsel, courtseying 
 as she received the money, " this guerdon 
 exceeds our poor deservings ; the work, so 
 please your ladyships, you deem so quaintly 
 wrought, is purfled by one more couthful at 
 the needle than we be."
 
 100 
 
 "Arid who is this excellent work-woman P ? 
 returned the lady. 
 
 " She is a stranger/' answered the girl. — 
 
 When Dame Alice, her mother, interfering, 
 said, "And such a stranger — may our holy 
 Lady protect her ! she looks like an angel 
 sheen. Certes, excepting yourself and the 
 Lady Eleanor, I have not seen her peregal ; 
 nor shall I see it in twenty parishes, I trow." 
 
 " You much astonish me," replied the Lady 
 Matilda ; " inform me, I beseech you, who 
 she is, and how she became your guest." 
 
 Dame Alice resumed her speech with these 
 words : " I remember well, upon the vigil 
 of Saint Thomas the blessed martyr of Kent, 
 Sir John our curate arreaded us, that evil 
 hap betides the best of folks ; sithence the 
 holy saints have had their tines and their 
 tosts, and we ought not to be abashed by 
 selcouth fortune; albe, it is a shrewd evil 
 stour when so charming a rose-bud, so gent
 
 101 
 
 a damozel, so noble a lady, is buffeted al 
 hoodman- blind by a naughty world." 
 
 a You call her a lady, and tell us she is 
 noble," said the baron's fair daughter, inter- 
 rupting the old woman : " hence, I presume, 
 she claims the privileges of rank and ances- 
 try." 
 
 " And soothlich to sayen," rejoined Dame 
 Alice, " they are her due, and with them 
 large estates ; but right is oft impeached by 
 might, and so the poor chicken is pilled of 
 its barley." At this instant, the sound of a 
 lute was heard. — " She is going to carol," 
 continued the good dame ; " her window is 
 open, and your ladyships may hear her bet- 
 ter in the porch." The young ladies went 
 thither; and after a short prelude, the stranger 
 sang the following verses to a very plaintive 
 tune : — 
 
 To thee, O soul-possessing power, 
 
 Sad Afelancholy, shall belong 
 The thoughts that fill each wakeful hour, 
 
 And day by day my hopeless song.
 
 102 
 
 But why — when unawares I close 
 These eyelids, overpress'd with grief,- 
 
 Am I a stranger to repose, 
 And find not in my sleep relief ? 
 
 For then terrific visions rise ; 
 
 On precipices steep I stand ; 
 And, falling, cast around my eyes 
 
 For help, — but find no helping hand. 
 
 In wild affright, perchance I hear, 
 Arous'd from sleep, the midnight bell ; 
 
 With horror chill*d, I drop a tear, 
 And cry, — It is my Henry's knell ! 
 
 She ceased, and the admiration of the la- 
 dies was much increased ; for both of them 
 declared they had never heard the lute more 
 skilfully touched, nor more sweetness and 
 delicacy of vocal expression exerted, than in 
 the performance of this plaintive lay. Their 
 curiosity was redoubled to learn her name 
 and family ; but the renewal of their enqui- 
 ries was interrupted by the sudden appearance 
 of the fair musician herself. She came hastity 
 into the room, with the intention of speaking
 
 103 
 
 to the Park-keeper's eldest daughter; when 
 her eyes meeting those of the young ladies, 
 she blushed, and, courtseying, besought them 
 to pardon her intrusion ; et for indeed," said 
 she, " I did not know that my good dame 
 was engaged with such noble visitants." 
 
 She was about to withdraw : but Ladv 
 Eleanor prevented it, by taking hold of her 
 hand : and, having assured her that no apo- 
 logy was necessary, she said, " Permit me, 
 my dear lady, to introduce you to the Lady 
 Matilda, daughter of Lord Boteler." 
 
 The lovely stranger courtseyed a second 
 time ; and Matilda, with great affability re- 
 turning her politeness, begged to be favoured 
 with her acquaintance; telling her, at the 
 same time, how much herself and her cousin 
 had been delighted by the air and music 
 they had just now overheard. 
 
 The fair stranger blushed at the com men- 
 dation, and modestly replied; " Indeed, ladies, 
 I was altogether unconscious that I had any
 
 104 
 
 other hearers than those of this good family, 
 who never interrupt me, or I should have 
 forborne my complaining, and sighed in si- 
 lence." 
 
 " I am therefore exceedingly glad," re- 
 turned the baron's daughter, " that our visit 
 was unknown to you, not only because it 
 would have deprived us of the entertainment 
 we have already received, but also because it 
 might have lost us the opportunity of solicit- 
 ing your acquaintance." The stranger re- 
 plied with great propriety, and accompanied 
 her speech widi such elegancy of deport- 
 ment, that the ladies were convinced the 
 good Dame Alice had not by any means 
 over-rated her merit ; they therefore entreat- 
 ed her to accompany them to Queenhoo-hall, 
 and partake of the morning refreshments She 
 made some difficulty respecting her dress; 
 but the ladies would admit of no excuse, and 
 pressed her with so much importunity, that
 
 105 
 
 she was necessitated to comply with their 
 request. 
 
 The Lady Matilda and her lovely cousin 
 varied the conversation, on purpose to give 
 their fair visitor an opportunity of displaying 
 her abilities. She answered the serious sub- 
 jects proposed by the baron's daughter on the 
 one hand, and as readily replied to the lively 
 railleries of her more volatile cousin on the 
 other ; but at intervals a gloominess over- 
 spread her countenance, and, notwithstand- 
 ing; the efforts she made to conceal it, mani- 
 fested a mind depressed with sorrow : yet the 
 excellency of her understanding, improved 
 by a finished education, displayed itself upon 
 every occasion that called for its exertion. 
 
 After the little party had participated in 
 the morning repast, the sports of the preced- 
 ing day became the subject of their discourse; 
 and the Lady Eleanor, addressing herself to 
 the lovely stranger, enquired if she had been 
 present at them. The young lady replied in
 
 106 
 
 the negative ; adding, " A long succession of 
 misfortunes has alienated my mind from the 
 scenes of tumultuous joy, and solitude is best 
 suited to a broken spirit. I became a volun- 
 tary housekeeper; my services were thank- 
 fully accepted, and the whole family were 
 spectators of the pastimes. I am indeed 
 informed that several unexpected incidents- 
 took place, and prolonged the pleasures of 
 the day." 
 
 " Your information is perfectly correct," 
 returned the Lady Eleanor. " We had a sa- 
 vage from Fairy-Land, an unknown chevalier 
 to overthrow him, and a justing well per- 
 formed in honour of the ladies." 
 
 " [ also heard," said the stranger, " that 
 the Lady Matilda was proclaimed Sovereign 
 of the May, and inaugurated with a golden 
 chnplet, embellished with jewels." 
 
 " Such was in truth the fact," returned 
 Eleanor; " and as you was not upon the Green
 
 107 
 
 at the presentation of this splendid ornament, 
 you shall see it here." 
 
 " I beseech you, my cousin," said Matilda, 
 blushing, and gently retaining .her by the 
 skirt of the supertunic ; " I beseech you sit 
 down, and let us change the subject; such 
 fooleries do not bear the repetition." 
 
 " Say no more about it," answered Eleanor, 
 
 withdrawing her garment ; " the lady shall 
 
 positively see the chaplet, and I am confident 
 
 she will agree with me— that it is a very pretty 
 
 foolery." So saying, she quitted the room, 
 
 and returned in a few minutes, holding the 
 
 jewel in her hand.—" Do you not think, my 
 
 dear lady," said she, addressing herself to the 
 
 guest, " that this costly garland indicates the 
 
 munificence, at the same time that it proves 
 
 the gallantry of the chevalier, who presented 
 
 it to my cousin ?" 
 
 The moment the fair stranger set her eyes 
 on the chaplet, the blood forsook her cheeks, 
 and she was much agitated ; but when Lady
 
 108 
 
 Eleanor presented it to her, she drew back 
 with horror, and pushing it aside with her 
 hand, exclaimed in great agony of mind, 
 " Oh blessed Lady ! Mother of God, protect 
 me ! — The man who possessed that chaplet is 
 a murderer — is Darcy's murderer !" So say- 
 ing, she closed her eyes, and falling back 
 upon her seat, she fainted. 
 
 The Lady Matilda and her cousin were 
 much alarmed by the effect the sight of the 
 chaplet had produced on their fair visitor ; 
 and their uneasiness, as well as their asto- 
 nishment, was considerably augmented by the 
 dreadful import of her exclamation : they 
 hastened to her assistance, but life appeared 
 to be totally suspended ; they summoned the 
 female attendants, and ordered the house phy- 
 sician to be called; no remedies usually applied 
 upon such occasions were omitted, and the 
 stranger was recovering from her swoon when 
 the physician entered the room. He found 
 the young ladies much terrified ; but after he
 
 109 
 
 had examined the pulse of the patient, he 
 relieved them from their anxiety, by assuring 
 them she was not in the least danger: find- 
 ing her, however, extremely languid, which 
 he thought midit arise from the depression 
 of her spirits, he ordered her to be put into 
 a warm bed, and kept as quiet as possible for 
 a few hours. Every thing was performed in 
 perfect consonance with his direction; and 
 Matilda, attended by her charming cousin, 
 sat by the bed-side, and watched the conva- 
 lescence of the sorrowful fair one. Observing 
 she was fallen into a sweet sleep, which was 
 likely to prove exceedingly beneficial, they 
 withdrew themselves as quietly as possible to 
 the next chamber, in order that she might 
 not be disturbed ; when Matilda, whose heart 
 was full, burst into tears, saying, '* This glit- 
 tering bauble," for the chaplet was deposited 
 upon a table there, " is certainly the fabrica- 
 tion of some evil-minded artificer, made un- 
 der the influence of malignant planets, and
 
 110 
 
 contrived to diffuse a succession of troubles 
 and vexations to its unfortunate possessors. 
 So bless me, sweet Lady Virgin, as I wish I 
 had never seen it !" 
 
 " No doubt," answered her cousin, " there 
 are some wonderful circumstances involved in 
 the history of diis jewel ; but do not, there- 
 fore, make yourself uneasy : whatever a future 
 discovery may produce, you cannot possibly 
 be thereby affected ; and perhaps the whole 
 of this misadventure arises from a mistake, — 
 two chaplets may be made so nearly alike as 
 to deceive the eye, and especially upon so 
 slight a glance; for the lady had no oppor- 
 tunity of examining the ornament, nor did 
 she even take it into her hands." 
 
 To this the baron's fair daughter replied, 
 " Perhaps it may be so ;" and, heaving a 
 deep sigh, she added, " 1 hope it will prove 
 so; but, at all events, I feel myself interested 
 in favour of this unfortunate stranger — her 
 youth— her beauty — her good sense and po-
 
 Ill 
 
 lished deportment, are irresistible advocates 
 in her behalf. She speaks of murder, and, if 
 I mistake not, mentioned the name of Darcy; 
 surely her troubles are no common ones. If 
 you, my dear cousin, will wait here to assure 
 her of our protection when she awakes, 1 will 
 return to the Lodge ; her family and connec- 
 tions appear to be known to the ranger's wife, 
 and I cannot sit down, with the least satis- 
 faction to myself, until I am acquainted with 
 them." The Lady Eleanor, equally desirous 
 of knowing somewhat relative to the history 
 of their visitor, approved the design of her 
 cousin, and promised, on her part, not to be 
 neglectful. The Lady Matilda had reached 
 the hall, when a loud rapping at the gate 
 called her attention thitherward, and the ar- 
 rival of Lord Edward Boteler, her father, 
 prevented the intended excursion.
 
 112 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In which the Story runs retrograde — The History 
 of' an old Witch, and an important Adventure 
 at her solitary Cell — A Wrestling Match, and 
 a Ghost. 
 
 The reader, I doubt not, will readily re- 
 collect, that a character was introduced in the 
 May Games, called the Maid Marian, who 
 officiated as the bride of Robin Hood. This 
 damsel was none other than the daughter of 
 Sim Glover, a leathern jerkin maker atTewin; 
 her name was Margery, and she was esteemed, 
 and not unjustly, the handsomest lass on the 
 Green ; and on this account she possessed no 
 small portion of vanity.
 
 113 
 
 Now it so happened that Gregory the ba- 
 ron's jester, and Ralph the tasker, were both 
 of them desperately in love with this same 
 Margery. She indeed seemed rather inclined 
 to favour Gregory, on account of his loquacity 
 and learning, in which points his rival Ralph, 
 who was a man of few words, had no chance 
 with him; but, on the other hand, Ralph had 
 a very powerful advocate in Dame Gillian, 
 the fair damsel's mother, who was his staunch 
 friend. There was also another circumstance 
 in his favour; Dame Tabitha, his honoured 
 parent, who was a widow, and Dame Gillian, 
 were on the most intimate footing, being 
 rarely apart whenever the least leisure afford- 
 ed them an opportunity of gossiping with 
 each other; and Tabitha was also exceed- 
 ingly desirous that the union should take 
 place. With respect to Sim Glover, he had 
 no objection ; for indeed whatever Dame 
 Gillian thought proper to propose, he rarely 
 contradicted: and thus Ralph seemed to stand 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 
 
 on a fair footing. The clay after the cele- 
 bration of the May-games, Sim Glover and 
 his wife were obliged to go to Hemel Hemp- 
 stead, respecting a legacy that was due to 
 them ; and as Tabitha had officiated as a 
 witness to the codicil, her presence was also 
 thought to be necessary ; and accordingly 
 she agreed to go with them. Margery, not 
 caring to sleep alone in the absence of her 
 father and mother, solicited the company of 
 her cousin Rose, daughter to Pierce the pot- 
 ter ; and her desire was cheerfully complied 
 with. 
 
 Early in the morning the three good folks 
 had left Tewin ; and as soon as they were 
 fairly out of sight, our quondam maid Marian 
 resolved on a frolic she had long wished for 
 an opportunity to put in practice, and which 
 at this time fairly offered itself to her ; that 
 is, she determined to visit a weird woman, 
 who resided upon Datchworth Green, at the 
 distance of four miles, or somewhat more, in 
 
 2
 
 115 
 
 order to learn of a certainty which of her two 
 lovers was destined to be her husband, and 
 what good fortune awaited her in future ; 
 other motives also at this time impelled her 
 to the execution of her scheme. She com- 
 municated her design to her cousin Rose, who 
 was easily prevailed on to accompany her thi- 
 ther. This important undertaking being thus 
 resolved on, as soon as they had finished 
 their breakfast, they secured the windows, 
 and, having locked the cottage door, pro- 
 ceeded towards Datchworth ; but not being 
 perfectly acquainted with the nearest way, 
 Margery applied to Thomas, the reve's son, 
 who met them accidentally in the back lane, 
 for a proper direction. Upon her mention- 
 ing the weird woman, Thomas smiled, and 
 said, " My pretty lasses, you are going, I sup- 
 pose, to have your fortunes told. May holy 
 Saint Dunstan abash the foul fiend, and send 
 you all the good luck your hearts can de- 
 sire !"
 
 116 
 
 " I thank you, good Master Thomas," said 
 Margery, casting her eyes upon the ground ; 
 " but in sooth your bolt has fallen wide of 
 the mark. Our fortunes told, say you ! No, 
 no, we have other corn to grind, I trow ; for 
 we be going to find out who stole our over- 
 gilt spoon, which we lost yesterday : and fa- 
 ther thinks that Tib, the old blind pedlar's 
 leman, took it while we were chaffering for 
 some bobbins." 
 
 This said, Thomas, without any further he- 
 sitation, pointed out the way to them. " It 
 is not indeed," said he, " the best path." So 
 he wished them a pleasant walk, and, bidding 
 them good-morning, went about his business. 
 They strolled on without the least molesta- 
 tion, talking over the wonderful events that 
 had taken place on May-day ; and Rose de- 
 clared, that she was determined to enquire of 
 the witch concerning the strange knight, and 
 the country whence he came. It was near
 
 117 
 
 noon by the time they reached the old hag's 
 hut, which stood by the side of a coppice, in 
 a narrow dirty lane, that bore no marks of 
 having been a thoroughfare for centuries 
 back ; the cot itself seemed to be of great 
 antiquity, half its covering was carried away 
 by the devastations of the weather, and the 
 deficiency of the mud-daubing upon the walls 
 admitted the wind from every quarter. In 
 short, the outside of this deplorable habita- 
 tion was so squalid and ruinous, that our two 
 adventurers hesitated awhile, and neither the 
 one nor the other dared to knock at the door, 
 fearing that some evil goblin, instead of a 
 woman, should open it for their reception. I 
 shall therefore give them time to become 
 more courageous, and, before they are per- 
 mitted to enter the unhallowed cell, take the 
 liberty of presenting to my readers a succinct 
 history of the sibyl herself. 
 
 She was the daughter of a gentleman of 
 fortune, who resided at Waltham Holy Cross,
 
 118 
 
 Nature had been exceedingly unkind to her, 
 for she was very ill-featured, and deformed 
 from her birth. Her father, however, having 
 no other child, was extremely fond of her : 
 he remarked, that a peculiar sharpness per- 
 vaded her answers as soon as she could ar- 
 ticulate them, and taking this propensity to 
 be waspish for -a symptom of extraordinary 
 abilities, he superintended her education him- 
 self; for he was a man of letters, and endea- 
 voured, by the cultivation of her understand- 
 ing, to counterbalance the defects of her 
 person. He had, however, mistaken pertness 
 for wit, and cunning for genius. He was 
 himself an ' infidel respecting religion ; and 
 his lessons were merely physical lectures, cal- 
 culated to amuse the head, but not to amend 
 the heart. The redundancy of idle ceremo- 
 nies, which abounded at that time in the 
 national church, were the constant objects of 
 his contempt; the pride and hypocrisy of 
 the church-men, with the abuses practised
 
 119 
 
 by the monks, the friars, the nuns, and other 
 religious votaries, afforded too mucii latitude 
 for his satirical censures He derided, and 
 justly, the authority assumed by the pope, 
 with his army of legates and cardinals; nor 
 did the indulgences and pardons, wickedly 
 exposed to sale, escape his ridicule : and thus 
 far he was not to be blamed. Unfortunately, 
 however, he did not stop here ; but, through 
 the abuses of religion, he made a desperate 
 stab at religion herself ; and because too ma- 
 ny, who called themselves Christians, deport- 
 ed themselves altogether unworthy of their 
 profession, he unreasonably condemned the 
 system of Christianity on account of their 
 misconduct; — not aware, that, while he at- 
 tempted to disfigure the precepts of piety 
 and holiness, inculcated by the gospel of 
 Christ, he destroyed the soundest and most 
 efficacious lessons of moral virtue. Young 
 minds are apt enough to imbibe the poisonous 
 disseminations of infidelity ; no wonder, there-
 
 120 
 
 Sore, that the daughter followed implicitly the 
 dictates of her father, and readily learned to 
 ridicule every sacred institution. Indeed, this 
 hapless female had no fair chance for the 
 exercise of her own judgment under so par- 
 tial a tutor. On the contrary, her mind, the 
 moment it was capable of discernment, was 
 warped from the principles of rectitude, and 
 deeply impressed by those of a contrary na- 
 ture; so that it would have been as easy a 
 task to have reduced her distorted body to 
 an elegant form, as to have restored her mind 
 to the simplicity and meekness which true 
 religion requires. When she had reached 
 the age of twenty, a dissolute young fellow, 
 named John Sad, who had spent his patri- 
 mony in riot and debauchery, and was fear- 
 ful of being immured in a prison by his cre- 
 ditors, cast his eyes upon her, and determined 
 to make a desperate effort to recruit his for- 
 tune, by uniting himself to an object which 
 inspired him with horror. Accordingly, he
 
 121 
 
 found an opportunity of opening his mind to 
 her; and beins; a handsome well-formed man, 
 not more than four years older than herself, 
 he found no difficulty in prevailing upon her 
 to receive his addresses. Their meetings 
 were at length made known to her father, 
 who was exceedingly angry upon the occa- 
 sion, and commanded her sternly, as she va- 
 lued his blessing, to see Master Sad no more. 
 But as obedience to her parent was no part 
 of her acquirements, and his blessing of less 
 value than a rush, in her estimation, she set 
 his threats at defiance, and, listening to the 
 solicitations of her lover, married him pri- 
 vately. She then thought it necessary to 
 acquaint her father with what she had done; 
 and he, with great philosophic apathy, turned 
 her out of his doors, and sent her clothes after 
 her to her husband's apartment. She had a 
 small portion independent of her father^which 
 she made over to her husband, and this was 
 shortly dissipated. She then felt, for the first
 
 122 
 
 time, the miseries of poverty, cursed herself 
 for her folly, and her father for his inhuma- 
 nity. Her husband also, disappointed in his 
 expectations, and haunted by his creditors, 
 became peevish, and treated her with con- 
 tempt. The haughtiness of her disposition 
 would not permit her to endure such ill usage; 
 they proceeded to high words, and from words 
 to blows: the poor dame was worsted in the 
 encounter, and so bruised by the beating she 
 had received, that' she was obliged to take to 
 her bed, and two days elapsed before she was 
 able to crawl down stairs. In about six or 
 eight days afterwards her husband returned 
 home: he came back in a better humour 
 than he went away, and, by affecting to be 
 sorry for what had passed, he regained her 
 confidence ; but in the night he purloined 
 what few jewels she had remaining, which he 
 sold to support his extravagancy. Soon after 
 this event, her father died, leaving the bulk 
 of his fortune to some distant relations, and
 
 123 
 
 to his daughter a small pittance for her life,, 
 to be paid her monthly, but barely sufficient 
 to prevent her from absolutely starving. This 
 being made known to Master Sad, he watched 
 an opportunity, and one day w.iile she was 
 gone to Waltham market, he hired two or 
 three assistants, and packing up all the fur- 
 niture that was in the house, her clothes and 
 personal ornaments, with every thing that 
 would bring any money, he took them away, 
 leaving her in arrears for rent, without a rag 
 to put on, or bed to lie upon. He disposed 
 of his baggage to a broker at Enfield for 
 less than half its value ; and, having paid his 
 assistants, proceeded to London, where he 
 entered into the army, then on the march 
 towards France, and fell in the famous battle 
 of Agincourt : a death too good for such a 
 worthless miscreant ! His wife, on. her return 
 home, found the house stripped of every 
 thing that was valuable, and herself suddenly 
 reduced to extreme indigence. She stamped.
 
 124 
 
 she screamed, and rent her hair in a paroxysm 
 of raging madness; her father's memory she 
 loaded with maledictions, blasphemed heaven, 
 and called for destruction on her husband. 
 When the fit was in some degree subsided, 
 she threw herself upon the floor, and lay de- 
 ploring her misfortunes till midnight. As soon 
 as she heard the ringing of the bell at Ches- 
 hunt Priory, she started up, unable to endure 
 the torment of her own reflections any longer, 
 and, impelled by her frenzy, ran down into 
 the meadows, uttering execrations all the 
 way, and plunged herself headlong into the 
 river Lea. It happened, fortunately for her, 
 that, the water being high, two of the millers 
 from the town-mill were upon the banks draw- 
 ing up the flood-gates ; they saw what was 
 done, and, hastening to her relief, arrived time 
 enough to save her life, for which she was 
 not grateful enough, to thank them. This 
 they attributed to her affright, and, with great 
 humanity, took her into the mill-house, where
 
 125 
 
 they laid a faggot upon the fire ; and having 
 wanned a pot of stout ale, grated a little nut- 
 meg into it, and made her drink plentifully, 
 which cheered her spirits. The event was 
 soon bruited among the neighbours, and her 
 miseries excited their compassion ; a small 
 subscription was set on foot for her present 
 relief, her rent was discharged, and sueh ne- 
 cessaries as could not be dispensed with were 
 procured for her : but her temper and her 
 principles precluded her neighbours from as- 
 sociating with her; she lived alone in the 
 midst of her fellow creatures, loved by none 
 of them, but shunned by all. An opinion 
 also prevailed among the lower classes of the 
 people, that she had sold herself to the devil ; 
 and this story being propagated, the children 
 followed her whenever she appeared abroad, 
 treated her with various indignities, some hoot- 
 ing, some shouting, and others bawling out, 
 Here comes the old Witch. She was therefore 
 obliged to quit Cheshunt; and having hired
 
 M6 
 
 the miserable cottage just described on Datch- 
 worth Green, remote from every other habi- 
 tation, she resided there by herself, and never 
 went abroad, but to purchase the necessaries 
 for subsistence. Her fame followed her thi- 
 ther ; but the loneliness of her habitation se- 
 cured her from the evil treatment she had 
 experienced in a populous neighbourhood, 
 and the notions which prevailed of her being 
 a witch was by no means of disservice to her; 
 on the contrary, she was frequently consulted 
 by one or other of the rustics ; some of them 
 being desirous of prying into the secrets 
 of futurity, others to discover thefts, and 
 others again to know what days were fortu- 
 nate or unfortunate for the pursuit of their 
 business : and as none of her visitors could 
 obtain the least information without crossing 
 her hand with a piece of silver, she found 
 the trade of prediction to be exceedingly 
 beneficial, and therefore did not deny her 
 compact with Satan ; but in order to impress
 
 V21 
 
 the minds of those who waited upon her with 
 stronger notions of her sagacity, she procured 
 two or three old mutilated manuscripts of a 
 large size, and filled the margins wit!; various 
 characters, perfectly unintelligible, and as 
 uncouth as any of those which the reader 
 may find abounding in the four books of 
 Occult Philosophy, by the celebrated necro- 
 mancer Henry Cornelius Agrippa : and as all 
 old witches are supposed to have a great par- 
 tiality for cats, (which, by the bye, the learned 
 have asserted are not real grimalkins, but fa- 
 miliar spirits,) Dame Sad kept several, and 
 among them three remarkably large ones, as 
 black as a sloe ; to these she paid peculiar 
 attention. 
 
 We left our two damsels before the en- 
 trance of the cottage, impelled by curiosity 
 on the one hand, and restrained by fear on 
 the other, to announce their arrival. Curio- 
 sity, however, at length prevailed ; and Mar-
 
 128 
 
 gery, who was the most courageous of the 
 two, struck gently a tap or two upon the door 
 with her knuckles, when she was answered by 
 a hoarse voice from within, desiring them to 
 draw up the latch, and enter the dwelling. 
 The sound appeared to them unlike the arti- 
 culation of a human being, and Margery, 
 crossing herself, retired from the door ; when 
 the voice repeated the former direction, add- 
 ing, " If you want me, young women, why do 
 you not come in ?" 
 
 " Saint Agnes speed us!" cried Rose, "the 
 weird woman knows us already, I trow." 
 
 " And therefore," rejoined Margery, " if 
 we should attempt to run away, she will set 
 her spell upon us, and keep us here till mid- 
 night: we had better do as she bids us; for it 
 will be a perilous matter to make her angry." 
 
 So saying, she led her cousin by the hand, 
 and pulling up the latch with caution, opened 
 the door, and they presented themselves upon 
 the threshold, where they stood trembling.
 
 129 
 
 not daring to advance beyond it. The 
 gloomy horrors of the oraculous cell were 
 fully exposed to their view, and the Pythoness 
 herself, who was seated upon a wooden tripod 
 by the side of a few expiring embers, which 
 she was turning over with her stick : her 
 head was wrapped about with a volupure, so 
 disguised with filth that its original colour 
 could not possibly be discriminated, and 
 through the torn places, which were numer- 
 ous enough, her white locks stood up on end, 
 for she had neither a veil nor a wimple to 
 cover them : her dress was an old thread- 
 bare courtpie, patched with different kinds of 
 cloth, and besmattered with dirt, so that it 
 was perfectly rigid ; her flesh was the colour 
 of smoke-dried bacon, and her ferret eyes, 
 which looked askance, were bloated with ho- 
 vering over the wood-embers; upon the tip 
 of her nose, which was very thin and promi- 
 nent, she wore a large pair of barnacles, and 
 they made no small addition to the uncome- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 ISO 
 
 iiness of her long lank visage. The moment 
 the door opened, she elevated her head, which 
 was shaken by the palsy, and, surveying the 
 damsels, cried out, " Come in, and shut the 
 door." 
 
 They had not courage enough to obey this 
 mandate, but each of them dropped a low 
 courtsey to shew their good breeding; and 
 Margery answered, " We thank you, dame, 
 but we be very well here." 
 
 " Did not I order you to come in t" re- 
 plied the Pythoness peevishly. " What, in 
 the devil's name, are the wenches afraid of?" 
 At the mention of the word devil, the young 
 villagers looked earnestly at each other, and 
 courtseying a second time still lower than 
 before, they advanced a step or two. — " Come 
 nearer, I say," rejoined the witch. " But 
 shut the door first, or I will call a goblin 
 from the lake of brimstone to do it for me." 
 
 As she said this, she stretched out her arm, 
 and overset by accident a pot full of water
 
 131 
 
 upon two large black cats that were sleeping 
 by the fire-side : the animals being terrified, 
 and seeing strangers in the house, set up their 
 backs, and began to spit and bounce about 
 like furies. At last, rushing by the two dam- 
 sels, they effected their escape at the door, 
 just as Rose had laid her hand upon it to shut 
 it. — " Benedicite!" cried she, and shrieked; 
 and Margery, having crossed herself, began 
 to count over her beads with great devotion, 
 saying, "Help us, Lady Mary, and shield us 
 from the foul fiend !" 
 
 " Out upon you !" cried the old woman. 
 " Shut the door, 1 say. What, you two Jenny 
 Howlets, are you such lozels as to take the 
 cats for devils r" Rose then shut the door ; 
 and she and her cousin, making their obey- 
 sance a third time, approached nearer to the 
 table : but they could not help noticing an- 
 other sooty-coloured grimalkin couched upon 
 the old hag's lap, which seemed equally dissa- 
 tisfied with them, and lay mewing, while it
 
 132 
 
 stared upon them with eyes like saucers, and 
 could hardly be pacified by the caresses ol'its 
 mistress. 
 
 The old woman then, pretending to examine 
 a large book which lay open upon the table 
 before her, drew her finger slowly down the 
 margin, pointing particularly to several of 
 the strange characters therein contained; and 
 afterwards, taking her barnacles from her nose, 
 ,she told the young women, to their great 
 surprise, that they came from Tewin Lower 
 Green, and that they were desirous of know- 
 ing their fortunes. She then assured them, 
 that her familiar spirit had informed her of 
 their coming ; and added she, addressing her- 
 self to Margery, " You have got two lovers ; 
 you are proud at being thought handsome; 
 and you are too fickle to determine in favour 
 of either." 
 
 " I hope, forsooth, you don't say so for the 
 nonce," answered Margery gravely ; " but I 
 had forgot," continued she, taking a milled
 
 133 
 
 sixpence from her gipsire, " I have not 
 crossed your hand with a piece of siiver: 
 there is a tester, dame." 
 
 " Thou hast some understanding, I per- 
 ceive," answered the old woman. "Go to 
 then, shew me thy hand." Margery then 
 wiped the palm of her left hand, and pre- 
 sented it to her; she reinstated her glasses 
 upon her nose, and after poring over it a 
 short space, delivered the following oracu- 
 lous verses : 
 
 I'll tell thee what, thou silly chit, 
 The fair-haird man will prove untrue : 
 
 What will avail thee all his wit, 
 
 When he, fond fool, bids thee adieu ? 
 
 The shorter man, with hair so dark, 
 Is honest-hearted, hold, and free : 
 
 What though he be no silken spark, 
 He will for aye be true to thee. 
 
 Here she stopped short, and appeared to be 
 much agitated. Alter a short silence, she 
 stamped upon the ground, and said, ." Do 
 vou not hear the croakinsr of a raven?"
 
 134 
 
 Si 
 
 No, io good sooth/' returned the girls, 
 after having listened with great attention. 
 
 " It is a foul goblin, that means thee ill," 
 said she to Margery. " Hark how it cries." 
 
 " Mary, mercy forbid," said the girl; " but 
 in sooth 1 do not hear it, in good sooth I 
 do not." 
 
 " It bids me cease to foretell," returned 
 the dame, " and I must obey ; for the sprite 
 is a powerful one." Here both the young 
 women looked fearfully about them, and the 
 witch went on, still addressing herself to 
 Margery; "Be not affrighted, nothing will 
 hurt thee ; — but mark my words : Are you 
 determined to know of a certainty who shall 
 be your husband ?" 
 
 " Yes forsooth, dame,'* said she, * if it be 
 possible." 
 
 " It is possible," answered the hag ; " but 
 have you courage " 
 
 * Law now, I don't know," said she.
 
 135 
 
 " To meet hirn," (moth the dame, et afe 
 twelve o'clock" 
 
 " Yes forsooth," said the girl. 
 
 " Ay, but at night, and in the church-yard r" 
 continued the witch. " Your companion may 
 go with thee." 
 
 Rose shrunk back, but said nothing ; and 
 Margery replied, " Will not the ghosts and 
 hobgoblins come to scare us ?" 
 
 u Go to, thou fool ; art thou afraid of 
 thine own shadow ?" answered the dame. " I'il 
 answer for it, nothing worse than thyself will 
 be there." 
 
 " Then I will go," said she, " and that is 
 determined ; — but the church is a great way 
 from our house." 
 
 i( Saint Thomas's oratory is much nearer," 
 said the dame, " and that will do equally as 
 well ; — but can you read ?" 
 
 " No, in troth," said Margery, " I be not 
 learned." 
 
 Why then let what I am now about to 
 
 ft
 
 136 
 
 say to you/' replied the witch, u be strongly 
 impressed upon your mind : 
 
 Around the church see that you go, 
 
 With kirtle white and girdle blue, 
 At midnight thrice, and hempseed sow j 
 
 Calling upon your lover true, 
 
 Thus shalt thou say ; 
 These seeds I sow : swift let them grow. 
 
 Till he, who must my husband be, 
 Shall follow me and mow. 
 
 This being faithfully performed, your future 
 husband shall surely appear to you." 
 
 " But will he not hurt me ?" said she. 
 
 " Hurt thee, indeed !" returned the hag. 
 " Why, wench, thou hast no more wit than 
 a woodcock. No, no, he loves thee too well 
 to hurt thee, I trow." And then she made 
 Margery repeat the verses, until she had 
 learned them perfectly by rote. This done, 
 she addressed herself to Rose, who also gave 
 her a sixpence, and half hiding her face with 
 her wimple, came simpering forward. — " And 
 you would have your fortune told, my girl r"
 
 137 
 
 said the Pythoness. Rose nodded her head 
 by way of assent.—" Show me your hand." 
 She accordingly held it out, and the old wo- 
 man, looking upon it, said, " The line of life, 
 
 I see, crosses the table line." 
 
 " Law now, that is more than I knew," said 
 the girl. 
 
 " I perceive," continued the dame, " you 
 
 will have two husbands," 
 
 " Oh dear," cried she, turning to Margery, 
 and laughing. 
 
 " And if my art deceive me not," added 
 the hag, " you will have six — eight — ten — 
 
 yes ten children." 
 
 " Mercy on me !" said she, blushing, and 
 casting her eyes upon the floor. 
 
 " Your first husband," continued the dame, 
 " will be a fair man, tall in person, and ex- 
 ceedingly good-humoured." Rose smiled, 
 but said nothing. " But I much fear, by the 
 intersection of the line of fortune ending in 
 the line of love, that you will play him false,
 
 138 
 
 wiy turtle : by this line it appears, that his 
 bosom friend shall put the jilt upon him, and 
 poor noddy will certainly be horned." 
 
 a Indeed but he shant though," said Rose, 
 angrily withdrawing her hand ; " if you can- 
 not tell fortunes better than that, I would not 
 give a rush for all your art." 
 
 " You need not be angry, my little dandy- 
 pratt," retorted the witch, with a sneer; " what 
 your stars have decreed must come to pass." 
 
 "And her second husband ?" said Margery, 
 smiling. 
 
 " He will be a Tosspot," replied the old 
 woman; " a choleric shrewd knave: I would 
 advise her to look well about her, for if she 
 offends him he will swinge her soundly." 
 
 " Let us go, Margery," said Rose, pouting ; 
 " I do not want to hear the old shrew prate 
 any longer." 
 
 *< Hush, hush, my dear Rose," answered 
 Margery, astonished at her temerity ; " be-
 
 139 
 
 sides, you have forgotten your intention of 
 enquiring concerning the strange knight." 
 
 " I care not about him," said she; " if you 
 chuse to ask any more questions, do ; for my 
 part, I shall keep my breath to cool my 
 pottage." 
 
 " The history of the strange knight," said 
 the old woman, " does not concern either of 
 you ; it involves a mystery not proper to be 
 unravelled, but which time hereafter will ex- 
 plain. — And you," added she, addressing her- 
 self to Margery, " remember the charge that 
 I have given to you ; perform the ceremonies 
 this night, and be happy ; if you fail to do so, 
 either through perverseness or tearfulness, 
 you will expose yourself to much difficulty, 
 and never afterwards have an opportunity of 
 seeing what you most desire." These words 
 were uttered by the Pythoness with a pecu- 
 liar energy, and made great impression upon 
 the mind of Margery. She promised to per- 
 form her part ; and having again repeated
 
 140 
 
 the incantations, she and her cousin quitted 
 the squalid habitation of Dame Sad. and re- 
 joiced in being restored to the sweet air and 
 the sunshine. 
 
 By the time they returned to Tewin, and 
 had taken some refreshment, it drew apace 
 [ towards six o'clock ; when Rose observing a 
 number of villagers assembled on the Green, 
 was desirous of knowing what was going for- 
 ward, and Margery very readily agreed to 
 accompany her thither. On their arrival, 
 they learned that Ralph and Gregory had 
 engaged to wrestle a fall or two, with holders, 
 for a stoup of double ale. They had not 
 been long there before the competitors ap- 
 peared ; and Ralph seeing Margery among 
 the spectators, requested her to tie the blue 
 ribbons round his shirt sleeves, and permit 
 him to declare himself her champion. Gre- 
 gory was equally solicitous of being honoured 
 by his mistress, and insisted upon Ralph with- 
 drawing his claim, which he as pertinaciously
 
 141 
 
 refused; so that a sanguinary combat would 
 inevitably have precluded the trial of skill, 
 had not the company interfered, and ad- 
 vised them to decide the contest by lot. 
 The contending parties, after some alter- 
 cation, acceded to this proposition ; and 
 three thorns being procured from the next 
 hedge, all of them unequal in length, they 
 were, according to old custom, held in the 
 hand of a person uninterested in the dispute, 
 with only the larger ends exposed to view, 
 and Ralph and Gregory drew each of them 
 one. He who fortunately fixed upon the long- 
 est thorn was the conqueror, and the longest 
 thorn was drawn by Ralph. Of course the rib- 
 bons were tied upon his sleeves by the lovely 
 hands of fair Margery, and Ralph assumed 
 the title of her champion. In the mean time, 
 Margery's companion, the lovely Rose, com- 
 passionately performed the same office for the 
 disappointed jester. The wrestling then took 
 place; and Ralph, in defiance of all the shift-
 
 14 
 
 ings and turnings of his antagonist, threw 
 him fairly three times, without having sus- 
 tained one single foil. The victory was pro- 
 claimed by the reiterated shoutings of the 
 clowns, who hoisted the fortunate champion 
 upon their shoulders, and bore him away 
 in triumph to Hob Filcher's, at the Rose 
 and Crown. Ralph veiled his bonnet as he 
 passed by his beloved Margery ; but for Gre- 
 gory, he skulked away among the crowd crest- 
 fallen, or, as Tom Tosspot observed, like a 
 fox who had lost his tail. 
 
 This incident, trifling as it was in itself, 
 could not have happened at a more propitious 
 moment; for Margery applying the commen- 
 datory verses, uttered by the weird woman in 
 favour of the dark-haired man, to her lover 
 Ralph, of course the charge of inconstancy 
 was referred by her to Gregory, who began to 
 decline in her opinion. Upon re-examina- 
 tion of their persons, she thought that Ralph 
 was the best-proportioned man of the two;
 
 143 
 
 and though somewhat browner than his rival, 
 his countenance was more comely, and bore 
 much stronger marks of cheerfulness and 
 o-ood humour. Those ideas were greatlv 
 
 o 
 
 strengthened by the proof he had now exhi- 
 bited of his powerfulness and skill in manlike 
 exercises ; so that, in proportion as the jester 
 receded, Ralph gained ground in her good 
 graces. It now became a matter of great 
 importance for her to know, for a certainty, 
 the event of this double courtship, and she 
 conceived that her future happiness depended 
 upon her obeying the mandates of the weird 
 woman; for which reason, she determined that 
 nothing should be wanting on her part. She 
 found it, however, a very difficult task to pre- 
 vail upon her companion to go with her, and 
 she had not sufficient courage to undertake the 
 adventure alone. Rose, who was exceedingly 
 disgusted by the predictions, or rather maledic- 
 tions, applied to her, abused the old dame with- 
 out mercy, calling her a limb of Sathan; afalse-,
 
 U4 
 
 crafty, cousening qucane ; and maliciously 
 added, " She is as ugly as a succubus, and 
 only wants a hood of snakes to lead the dance 
 of hobgohlins in a mystery play. I will have 
 nothing to do," continued she, " with such a 
 shrewish callat. Holy Saint Ann f'orfend ! 
 Why she may send a legion of her foul imps, 
 and hurry us away in a whirlwind." Margery, 
 on the other hand, exerted all her eloquence 
 to quiet her cousin's apprehensions, and to 
 excite her curiosity ; and continued to solicit 
 so long and so urgently, that she positively 
 teized her into a compliance. Her impor- 
 tunities being successful, she hastilv dressed 
 herself in a white kirtle, over which she 
 bound a girdle of Coventry blue ; and reach- 
 ing a wimple to Rose, she adjusted her own, 
 and, arm in arm, they proceeded towards the 
 oratory. The church-clock at Tewin struck 
 eleven a few minutes after they had quitted 
 the cottage, and crossing the common at the 
 bottom of the baron's park, went through a
 
 145 
 
 bye lane leading to Bram field oratory, with- 
 out seeing a soul, or meeting with the least 
 interruption. Entering the cemctry, they 
 proceeded to the church-porch, depressed 
 by involuntary sensations of terror, and there 
 they seated themselves close to each other, 
 and continued for some time silent. At length 
 Margery, taking her companion by the hand, 
 said, " My dear Rose, do you not think that 
 all this is very silly f" 
 
 " By my troth," replied Rose, fearfully, " I 
 know not ; but if I were at home again, you 
 should not find me silly enough to return and 
 hunt goblins here." 
 
 " I beseech you, be not scared," answered 
 Margery; "as sure as eggs be eggs, there will 
 not come any thing to hurt us." 
 
 " Belike you think then," said Rose, " the 
 false old trott has sent us upon a fool's er- 
 rand r" 
 
 " Speak not s o loud," returned Margery, 
 hastily ; " I would as lief the fox had stolen 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 U6 
 
 half our pullain, as that Goody Sad's friends 
 should overhear vou." 
 
 At this time a cloud passing over the moon, 
 cast a gloom upon the surrounding objects ; 
 and the night being remarkably still, they 
 heard the church clock at Tewin strike twelve, 
 the solemn hour appointed for the perform- 
 ance of the mystic rites. Some minutes, 
 however, elapsed before our heroine found 
 herself sufficiently courageous to quit the 
 porch, and venture alone into the cemetry : 
 and had it not been that her cousin was wit- 
 ness to her timidity, she would certainly have 
 returned without performing the magical cir- 
 cumambulations, or repeating the charm ; 
 but resolving not to expose herself to the 
 future ridicule of her relation, she went forth, 
 and taking some hemp-seeds from a little 
 pouch attached to her girdle, she cast them 
 behind her, uttering the momentous words 
 which she had learned from the weird wo- 
 man. She passed twice round the oratory,
 
 147 
 
 and nothing appeared to molest her; but 
 having performed the ceremony a third tune, 
 and repeated the invocation, stie saw the re- 
 semblance of a man, with a scythe upon his 
 shoulder, come over the stile, and he followed 
 her : she was dreadfully affrighted, and, rush- 
 ing into the porch, caught her cousin in her 
 arms, saying, " He is come ! he is come !" 
 At the same moment, the spectre, bearing 
 the perfect resemblance of Ralph the tas- 
 ker, saving only that his countenance was 
 much paler, approached, and made a long 
 stroke with his scythe at the entrance of the 
 porch : the girls shrieked out, and Rose hid 
 her face with her wimple. The apparition 
 said nothing, but looked very wishfully at 
 Margery, pointing at the same time to a 
 ring of gold, which he held in his left hand, 
 as the emblem of wedlock ; then, bowing 
 very obsequiously, he threw his scythe over 
 his shoulder, and stalked away. The damsels 
 were so much terrified by what they had
 
 148 
 
 seen, that they dared not to quit their seats, 
 until the crowing of the cock apprized them 
 of the morning's approach ; when Margery 
 looked out, and seeing nothing in the form 
 of humanity near them, encouraged her cou- 
 sin to return ; and they ventured to leave 
 the porch, leaning upon each other's arms, 
 and, trembling as they went, passed over 
 the consecrated ground in profound silence. 
 Having gained the bye lane, they quickened 
 their pace, but frequently cast their eyes with 
 great anxiety behind them, being fearful that 
 the goblin might follow them ; nor could the 
 popular tradition, which asserts that spirits 
 cease to be visible the moment the cock has 
 crowed, pacify their apprehensions. When 
 they reached their home, they fell upon their 
 knees, counted over their rosaries with great 
 devotion, said several paternosters, and ave- 
 mary's ; and, finally, recommending them- 
 selves to the protection of the blessed Virgin, 
 thev hastened to bed. When their fears had
 
 U9 
 
 somewhat subsided, Margery addressed her 
 cousin, saying, " My dear, dear girl, was you 
 not dismally abashed ?" 
 
 Rose burst into tears ; and, sobbing violent- 
 ly, replied, in broken sentences, — " Abashed, 
 forsooth! — alas! — Saint Agnes ibrefend I 
 should again be so aghast ! — ever and anon 
 I wished to have died — I was scared out of 
 my five wits — I would not for a thousand an- 
 gels of red gold, that the foul fiend should 
 return, so I would not." 
 
 Her tears prevented her proceeding ; and 
 Margery, whose heart was nearly as full as 
 her own, made answer, " I shall go wode, if 
 you do not stint your sobbing and crying. 
 If it was a hobgoblin, it came in the shape of 
 Ralph ; and Ralph won't harm us, I trow." 
 
 " Saint Withold quell him, and keep him 
 from coming again ; and may the murrain 
 take the shrewd gap-toothed beldam, and her 
 wicked witchcraft !"
 
 \5ii 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 A developement of some important Matters — 
 The introduction of a new Character — And 
 a whimsical instance of Rustic revenge. 
 
 Ihe morning was advanced before our two 
 adventurers found themselves inclined to close 
 their eyes; when, overcome with fatigue and 
 agitation of spirits, they fell asleep. Mar- 
 gery awoke first, and, seeing that her cou- 
 sin was resting very comfortably, arose and 
 dressed herself without disturbing her. Just 
 as she was opening the window-shutters, her 
 gossip Cecily, the baron's milk-maid, passed 
 by ; who, saluting Margery with a good-mor- 
 row, observed, that she had played the slug- 
 gard that morning ; " for," added she, " the 
 third bell, I warrant, will ring before you can 
 straw your room with rushes."
 
 151 
 
 " Is it so late ?" returned Margery with a 
 sigh : " in sooth I rested poorly last night, 
 and vast ugly dreams disturbed my rest." 
 
 « Why marry then, I trow," answered Ce- 
 cily, " you are not the only one in the village 
 who could not sleep for evil sweyvins ; poor 
 Ralph the tasker" 
 
 " Benedicite! and what of him?" said Mar- 
 gery, hastily. 
 
 ** Why," answered Cecily, " he is at death's 
 door, I warrant you : he was sorely beset last 
 night by the foul fiend, and hurried over 
 hedge and ditch by hobgoblins; — they say 
 he has been beaten till his body is of as many 
 colours as the rainbow, and so scratched and 
 clapper-clawed, that he has not got whole 
 skin enough upon his carcase to cover the 
 top of a cream-pot." 
 
 • " The m ore's the pity," cried Margery, 
 trembling. " Saint Mary save us from night 
 spells ! He was goblin-led, I trow." 
 
 " He takes on mainly, I can tell you," re-
 
 132 
 
 turned the milk-maid, " and if you be not 
 hard-hearted you will go see him ; for you 
 knows, as all the village knows, he loves you 
 dearly." 
 
 u Marry now," answered Margery, affect- 
 ing to laugh, " you have been putting a seely 
 jape upon me, 1 trow." 
 
 "How, a jape!" cried Cecily. "By'rLady, 
 it is a goodly jape, indeed, for a man to be 
 scratched to death by evil sprites. It will be 
 a shrewd ill turn of you if you laugh when 
 you see him, I can tell you that ; — but I must 
 not tarry carping here; — and so, good bye 
 to you." This said, she left our fair damsel 
 to her own cogitations, and proceeded with- 
 out delay towards Queenhoo-hall. 
 
 Margery was struck with astonishment, 
 when she heard the evil consequence of her 
 impertinent curiosity. She wished the old 
 witch and her host of familiars had been 
 overwhelmed in the Red Sea, or carried away 
 upon a besom. She then blamed herself for
 
 153 
 
 her own temerity, and sincerely lamented the 
 part she had taken towards the tormenting of 
 her future husband; for she now fully be- 
 lieved that it was Ralph himself, in his pro- 
 per person, who had appeared to her, impelled 
 to do so by the pow.erfulness of the wicked 
 invocations she had been taught to use. She 
 determined, however, to visit him instantly; 
 and, without awaking her cousin, put on 
 her wimple, and went to the habitation of 
 her lover. When she entered, she found 
 the poor tasker alone, wrapped up in a houp- 
 land, seated in an elbow-chair ; his back 
 was supported by a bolster, and his head 
 closely bound about with a large kerchief 
 over a white volupure. The sight moved 
 her compassion ; she came to him with much 
 less ceremony than she had been accustomed 
 to use, and very tenderly asked him how he 
 found himself. His eyes glistened at the sight 
 of Margery ; and the earnestness of her enqui- 
 ries made him think that he was not altogether
 
 154 
 
 indifferent to her. He answered her with a 
 faint voice, saying, '* he had been a grievous 
 sufferer ; but because it had been for her 
 sake " 
 
 " For my sake, Ralph !" cried she, affect- 
 ing an air of surprise. " Why, I hope you 
 do not impute the smallest part of your suf- 
 ferings to me ?" 
 
 To this he replied, " I came to see thee, 
 forsooth." 
 
 "To see me !" retorted the damsel/' Heaven 
 bless thy wits ! Why, man, I fear me thou art 
 wode." 
 
 " Indeed, Mistress Margery," answered 
 Ralph, " 1 shall be stark wode if you be 
 cruel ; — but I did see you last night, as sure 
 as I see you now." 
 
 " And where, good Ralph ?" said she has- 
 tily. 
 
 " In the porch," quoth he, " of Brain field 
 oratory." 
 
 " You have been dreaming, I trow ;" an-
 
 155 
 
 jeered Margery ; " for what should have 
 brought you to Bramfield oratory ?" 
 
 " The devil, or his dam, for aught I know," 
 said he. " You say I was dreaming ; but 
 odds fish, it was a right earnest dream. Why 
 you must know that last night, just before it 
 sounded twelve upon the bell at Tewin church, 
 I was seized as it were with a thousand cramps 
 at once, which made me roar like a tyger; I 
 was then taken up, as I thought, upon a cowl 
 staff, and whisked down stairs in the twink- 
 ling of an eye ; the door opened of its own 
 accord, and I was hurried over the quicksets 
 at the bottom of the common. I was then 
 bounded above the trees in Park- lane, and 
 afterwards soused into the horse-pond in old 
 Wicke's cow-yard, where I was drenched 
 like an howlet upon a duck's back. I was 
 then drawn through the orchard hedge, and 
 whirled against the holly bush on this side 
 Bramfield church-yard, where, being tumbled 
 ever the stile, a scythe was put, I know not
 
 156 
 
 how, into my hands, and I was constrained 
 to come to the porch, where I saw two young 
 women seated ; one of them had her face 
 covered with her wimple, and the other, be- 
 dight in a white kertel, was, for all the world, 
 like you. Saint Thomas help me, but two 
 peas in a pottle could not bear a nearer re- 
 semblance to each other !" 
 
 " This is passing strange," cried Margery ; 
 " certainly you did not say your night-spell, 
 or the foul fiend could not have had so much 
 power over you. But what happened after- 
 wards ?" 
 
 " A very perilous adventure, I promise you," 
 quoth he. " I was hurried back in the same 
 guess way that I went, over hedge and ditch, 
 without any mercy, so that my wits were 
 upon end ; and when I came to myself, I 
 was lying upon the bed, full of bruises and 
 scratches, as though I had been kicked for 
 an hour by Wilful, the baron's unruly horse, 
 or scaiified by a clowder of wild cats."
 
 157 
 
 Margery, heaving a sigh, wiped away a 
 tear or two which started from her eyes, and, 
 looking bashfully upon the ground, returned 
 for answer, " So help me, dear Lady Virgin, 
 as I am sorry for your misfortunes, neigh- 
 bour ! and as your mother is from home, I 
 will kill one of our chickens, and make you 
 a mess of white broth for your dinner, and 
 bring with me a bottle of clary to raise your 
 spirits. Take heart, man ; what, I warrant 
 you shall not be lost for want of care." 
 
 Here Ralph, taking her hand, pressed it 
 to his lips, and kissed it with much fervency. 
 He then thanked her for her courteous offer, 
 which he accepted with gratitude, and gal- 
 lantly added, " The pains I endure from the 
 scratches and bruises I have received are of 
 small account, when compared with what I 
 feel in my heart for the love of you." 
 
 " Fye now, Ralph !" said Margery, blush- 
 ing, and carelessly folding and unfolding one
 
 158 
 
 corner of her wimple ; <( you are glossing over 
 ,a leasing tale." 
 
 " I trow/' 
 
 Here Ralph clapped his hand upon his left 
 breast, by way of confirming his assertion, 
 and the damsel went on : " If it be sooth as 
 you say, for my 9ake look to yourself and get 
 well, and let no more be said about this hob- 
 goblin story ; and then, if it liketh ye, talk 
 to father and mother, — if they have no ob- 
 jections to our union, perhaps I may not." 
 
 " By the holy rood," cried Ralph, " this 
 bell rings sweetly! — Such music, dearest Mar- 
 gery, will make me a whole man ere long ! — 
 By'r Lady," continued he, catching her in 
 his arms, and enforcing a kiss before she was 
 aware, " I shall be well anon !" , 
 
 " I did not expect this," said she, breaking 
 from him, and assuming an air of pettishness ; 
 " go to, you are rude, Master Tasker." 
 
 Ralph, seeing that he had gone too far, 
 pretended to have hurt himself by his exer-
 
 15 9 
 
 tions, and uttered a low groan or two in con- 
 firmation. He then proceeded to apologize 
 for his behaviour, attributing it to the excess 
 of his love, and promised not to offend again 
 in like manner ; concluding with a hope that 
 she would not go from her word, and swear- 
 ing if she did, that he would certainly put an 
 end to his own existence, and that his troubled 
 spirit should haunt her every night. — " If 
 that be all I have to fear," answered the 
 damsel, " I trow my sleep would not be much 
 disturbed ; — but, however, I shall not give 
 you cause of complaint unless you deserve 
 it." So saying, she took her leave ; and 
 Ralph comforted himself with the hope of 
 her returning again with the broth and the 
 wine, according to her promise. 
 
 The exertion which Ralph had made, and 
 the struggling of the damsel to free herself 
 from his embraces, deranged the bandages 
 from his temples, and Margery perceived 
 that there was not the least appearance of
 
 160 
 
 the scratches he had so much complained of; 
 moreover, the manner in which he pressed 
 her to his bosom did not accord with that of 
 a sick and languid person, but rather of a 
 lusty young lover, in his full health and vi- 
 gour. — " Surely," said she, as she shut the 
 door after her, " I am gulled by this ousel ; 
 but and it prove so, I will lead him a dance 
 in earnest, to the full as shrewd as this he 
 pretends to have measured." Just as she was 
 turning these thoughts in her mind, she saw 
 Thomas the reve's son coming towards the 
 dwelling. She instantly recollected talking 
 to him on the morning they went to Datch- 
 worth Green, and it occurred to her that it 
 was likely some juggling had been contrived 
 between him and her lover. In order to 
 discover the truth, she concealed herself from 
 his sight behind a holly bush ; and when he 
 had entered the dwelling, she drew up close 
 to the window, where she overheard the 
 conversation which passed between the two
 
 161 
 
 friends : and hence she learned, that Tho- 
 mas, having met her and her cousin as afore- 
 said, and finding they were going to consult 
 the weird woman, pointed out to them pur- 
 posely a round-about way ; and the moment 
 he had parted from them, run to his friend 
 Ralph, advising him to be beforehand with 
 them, and, by bribing the witch, prevail up- 
 on her to deliver her oracles in his favour. 
 Dame Sad proposed the church-porch busi- 
 ness ; and it was by her council Ralph pre- 
 tended to be ill, in order to excite the com- 
 passion of his mistress, and secure her affec- 
 tions, — all which, excepting the mistake he 
 had made at the conclusion of the scene, he 
 had performed with much ingenuity. Tho- 
 mas had also informed Cecily, the baron's 
 milkmaid, in confidence, that Ralph had been 
 goblin-led ; well knowing that she would keep 
 the secret, as such good folks usually do > bv 
 taking the earliest opportunity of telling it 
 to her gossip Margery. And now the reader- 
 
 VOL. I L
 
 \6 C 2 
 
 will not be surprised, that the damsel readily' 
 accounted for all the wonderful transactions 
 that had taken place ; at the same time ac- 
 quitting Mother Sad from the charge of 
 dealing with the devil for any part of her 
 information. It was, however, a bitter por- 
 tion to Margery ; for she found that she had 
 been completely duped. — " But if I be not 
 even with this knight-errant of mine/' said 
 she, as she retired from the window, " I will 
 permit him to set up my name as a silly lozel 
 upon Hob Filcher's sign-post." She went 
 home without the least delay; and not chusing 
 to communicate the secret to her cousin, told 
 her she had a message of some consequence 
 to deliver to Cuthbert the barber, which had 
 been forgotten, and begged of her to keep 
 the house until she should return. She then 
 opened a little cabinet that stood in her cham- 
 ber, and took from it an angel of gold, which 
 was all the money she had in her possession, 
 and thrusting it into her gipsire, she pro-
 
 163 
 
 eeeded to Cuthbert's dwelling upon the Lower 
 Green. 
 
 This man, who exercised the functions of 
 a tonsor to the village, had in his youth been 
 taught to read ; and possessing some smat- 
 terings of learning, without sufficient judge- 
 ment to digest them, was exceedingly pe- 
 dantic. He was continually prating, like a 
 parrot, concerning himself and his perform- 
 ances. His harangues were unconnected 
 with common sense, and totally unintelligible 
 to the lower classes of the people, with whom 
 he passed for a person of wonderful abilities. 
 To his profession as a barber, he added that 
 of a cow-leech, and his practice had, in se- 
 veral instances, proved successful : he was 
 also skilled in phlebotomy, and drew teeth 
 to admiration. In the latter part of his life^ 
 (for he was far advanced in years,) he became 
 acquainted with a foreign pretender to astro- 
 logy and physic, and had the address to ge£ 
 possession of some of his nostrums. Upon
 
 164. 
 
 the strength of this acquisition he resolved 
 to commence physician, and undertake the 
 cure of the human body, without possessing 
 any one of the requisites for such an engage- 
 ment, or even a shadow of anatomical know- 
 ledge; He used, it is true, a variety of tech- 
 nical terms, and spake of the muscles, the 
 tendons, the ligaments, the cartilages, and 
 the nerves, but never with propriety, ge- 
 nerally substituting one for another, and 
 constantly mistaking the uses of them all. 
 He had observed, that perspiration was fre- 
 quently productive of the most beneficial 
 effects; and therefore he conceived, that it 
 might, with the utmost propriety, be applied 
 to every species of disorder which affects 
 mankind. In order to facilitate the execu- 
 tion of this chimerical enterprize, he actually 
 expended a considerable sum of money in 
 constructing of hot baths, building of sweat- 
 ing rooms, and providing such things as were 
 necessary for producing the operations, (for
 
 165 
 
 so he called the sweatings) which he im- 
 posed upon his patients. His mode of rea- 
 soning in defence of his practice was in this 
 manner : All disorders proceed from the foul- 
 ness of the blood ; but perspiration carries 
 off the redundant humours, and purifies the 
 blood ; and therefore perspiration is a cure 
 for all disorders. Accordingly, if a man's 
 finger or his toe chanced to ache, the whole 
 person was put into a state of requisition, 
 and sweated until the pain was withdrawn 
 from the toe or the finger. Some laughed 
 at the tonsor's humour ; others reprobated 
 his conduct, and swore that Diggory the sex- 
 ton would amass a fortune if he was per- 
 mitted to continue his practice ; others, again, 
 insisted upon it, that he had performed many 
 wonderful cures. It must be in the moon, 
 then, said a fourth party ; for we know no- 
 thing concerning them upon the earth. 
 
 To this sagacious descendant of Escula- 
 pius our angry damsel had recourse. She
 
 1 66 
 
 ibiittcl him at home, employed in ascertain- 
 ing the true altitude of the sun, with the as- 
 sistance of an astrolabe. She was exccedine;- 
 ly desirous of obtaining an instant hearing, 
 and solicited the same with great importuni- 
 ty, but in vain ; he would not return her any 
 satisfactory answer before he had completed 
 his calculations. This momentous matter be- 
 ing settled, he gravely addressed himself to 
 his fair visitor, and enquired into the cause 
 of her com in 2:. 
 
 She, on her part, without any useless in- 
 terlocution, opened the subject in the fol- 
 lowing manner : " You must know, Master 
 Cuthbert, that poor Ralph the tasker has 
 lost his wits. He is stark-staring mad ; and, 
 woe the while, his mother is from home, and 
 there is not a soul that dare go near him, 
 to take care of him ; you cannot devise how 
 much he scared me just now; he swore such 
 obstropelous oaths, and looked so wildly, and 
 then he talked of hanging and drowning !
 
 167 
 
 Now, you see as how all the village knows 
 that he is in love with me, poor heart, and I 
 would not have any harm come to him for 
 all the king's forests." Here she wiped her 
 eyes, and sobbed, as though her heart had 
 been full. Proceeding, in broken accents — 
 " because the naughty folks might say that 
 it is all along of me." 
 
 ',' I understand you," quoth Cuthbert very 
 gravely. " Well, do not cry so, my fair dam- 
 sel, but go on." 
 
 " Why then," said she, counterfeiting an 
 air of sorrow, " the short and the long of the 
 matter is this, I would have } r ou take him 
 under your care, and bleed him, and sweat 
 him purely ; I know his mother will take it 
 in main good part, and pay you well for your 
 trouble when she returns." 
 
 " Why, look you, my pretty lass," replied 
 Cuthbert, clapping his arms behind him, "fair 
 words butter no parsnips, and hawks are not 
 lured with empty hands. I never praise my-
 
 108 
 
 self, the world knows my merits ; let any one 
 go to John Fitz-Lomas, of Woolmer Green, 
 and ask him, or to Hagan the Lorimer of 
 Hartford, and ask him ; I snatched them hoth 
 from the jaws of the grave : they were destroy- 
 ed bj- the gout, torn to pieces by the rheu- 
 matism, shook by palsies, lamed by cramps, 
 tormented by spasms, and breathless by asth- 
 mas; in short, they were walking spittals when 
 they sent for me ; and what, trow yon, did 
 I ? — It is well known I do not prate in my 
 own praise — let them speak if they will — why, 
 by thirty-nine operations, I cured the one, 
 who had been ill twelve years, three months, 
 and two days ; and, by forty-three operations, 
 I learned the other to walk, who had gone 
 upon crutches for twenty years and five 
 months, bating three days, six hours. These 
 are the benefits that accrue to mankind 
 through me ; but I praise not myself. Can 
 all the learned leeches in the king's domi- 
 nions produce such cures as these ? No ! nor
 
 169 
 
 in the world, 1 trow ; and what did these 
 men, when I had made them as sound as 
 two roaches ? Why, like churlish unthanks, 
 they cheated me of my fees, and swore that 
 I did them no good at all : And then what is 
 to he said of Michael, the coster-monger ? I 
 grant you he died ; but it was because he 
 would not take his bitters, nor go into the 
 fiftieth operation; had the pettish knave done 
 so, he would have been alive now, and as 
 merry as a grig ; but what must my fool do ? 
 marry, when I had set him almost right up- 
 right, he went away from me, has recourse 
 to Deval John, a pragmatical pretender to 
 physic, and away he was whisked in a hurry 
 to Tewin church-yard ; and then it was said 
 that I, forsooth, killed him, by giving him 
 the dropsy. Oh that Michael was a false 
 lordane ! By the belt of Saint Christopher, 
 I ween, the shrewd knave died to spite me, 
 and so I was tricked out of all the money 
 that was due to me for my trouble. Master
 
 170 
 
 Ralph may pay me in the same coin ; and 
 therefore I think it safest and best to follow 
 the old English law — touch pot, touch penny ; 
 for a bird in hand outvalues two in the bush." 
 
 " Benedicite !" cried Margery, " you take 
 me, I trow, for a crazy Bessy; forsooth, I 
 know better than to fish for a leech without 
 a bait, and be not come empty-handed ; 
 Dame Everid, I doubt not, will unbuckle, 
 nor mall, if your operations do but take the 
 proper effect; but sure bind, sure find, they 
 say; and I will pay you for three or four be- 
 fore hand :" So saying, she gave the golden 
 angel into his hand. 
 
 He cast his eyes upon the coin, and put- 
 ting it into his purse, with much affected 
 gravity, he replied, " Of a truth, you are 
 wise beyond your years, my pretty damsel, 
 and have such winning ways with you, that 
 one cannot refuse you any thing. I am not 
 used to praise myself, but it is certain that 
 I can cure where others kill — and so you say 
 the young man is mad ?"
 
 171 
 
 " As a hare in March," quoth Margery. 
 
 " Why, there it is," said the barber, " you 
 have done wisely in applying to me ; for all 
 the village knows, if they would speak frank- 
 ly, that the cures I have performed are pass- 
 ing wonderful; but it is a peevish set of wit- 
 lings, who regard not merit; they are such 
 silly woodcocks, that they had rather be mur- 
 dered by licence, than healed without it; for 
 what are the licensed practitioners in physic, 
 but murderers ? with all their annals, their 
 gaily pots, their glasses, their ventoses, and 
 boxes of lectuaries, with whole loads of wash- 
 draughts, dregs, and drugs, to load the sto- 
 mach, impede the operations of nature, and 
 nourish diseases ? — I'll none of them — I never 
 praise myself, but shall only say, the gout, 
 the rheumatism, and the dropsy, are my ga- 
 mut. An operation of ten hours, ten times 
 tried, would send them all to Belzebub, their 
 father. Consumptions I fight in their own 
 way, and outsweat the sweatings concomi-
 
 172 
 
 tant with the disease : but, if you speak of 
 the megrims, mopings, or melancholies, or 
 of phrenzies, and raging madness, I can give 
 them their cheek-mate ; twenty or thirty ope- 
 rations may do in slight affections of the 
 mind ; but, say the worst, permit me to ex- 
 tend them to sixty or eighty, and barring ac- 
 cidents, such as dying in the practice, or the 
 like, and I will engage my life for theirs, I 
 bring them out as fine, and as fresh, as an 
 hawk from her moulting." 
 
 " I do not doubt your skill," said Mar- 
 gery, interrupting him ; "but, I beseech you, 
 for the sake of humanity, to remember, that 
 delays are dangerous ; if the foul fiend should 
 tempt poor Ralph to make away with him- 
 self while we are talking, I shall certainly 
 pine myself to death." 
 
 " By the mass," answered Cuthbert, " you 
 are in the right ; but I am thinking how we 
 shall get him hither." 
 
 " He is vastly strong," said Margery, "when
 
 175 
 
 the lit is on him ; I pray take help enough : 
 three or four sturdy churles must go with 
 you ; I will lend you father's cart, you have 
 got a horse ; for the love of the blessed Vir- 
 gin, make no delay." 
 
 " You say well," quoth the barber ; " and 
 there are three soldiers, big men of brawn, 
 at Hob Filcher's, I will hire them ; and when 
 we have once got our patient down, myself, 
 with Jenkyn the bearward, and Tom the tai- 
 lor, may manage him easily enough." 
 
 u But be sure to bind his arms," said Mar- 
 gery ; " and, above all things, put a gag in 
 his mouth, or he will raise the neighbour- 
 hood. When you first go in, you will find 
 him as quiet as a mouse ; he will tell you he 
 is full of scratches and bruises, and as weak 
 as a widgeon ; but when he learns your er- 
 Tand, he will swear like a bellswaggerer, de- 
 clare that he is as well as ever he was in his 
 life, and, if not hastily prevented, he will lay 
 about him like a fur v."
 
 174 
 
 " As for that matter," said Cuthbert, " let 
 ine alone to manage him ; I'll tame him be- 
 fore sunset, or eschew nry profession." 
 
 He then sent for the soldiers, who readilv 
 agreed to assist him ; swearing, that they did 
 not value a madman, although he mi^ht be 
 possessed with a swarm of devils. The horse 
 being harnessed, was lead to Sim Glover's, 
 and the cart was made ready, when the bar- 
 ber, with his myrmidons, mounted, and drove 
 through the back lane to Ralph's habitation, 
 where they all got out, and, leaving the ve- 
 hicle in the out lodge, Cuthbert, to prevent 
 suspicion, proposed to go in first to the pa- 
 tient, and see what could be effected by fair 
 means ; but he placed the soldiers at the side 
 of the door, with orders to enter the moment 
 they heard him whistle. It was by this time 
 somewhat turned of noon, and Ralph, having 
 sent away his friend Thomas long before, was 
 alone, anxiously expecting the return of Mar- 
 gery with the broth, according to her pro-
 
 175 
 
 niise : he had caused all the handages to Le 
 replaced afresh, and was in perfect readiness 
 to receive her, when a gentle tap at the door 
 announced the arrival of some one. Ralph's 
 heart began to flutter, as he cried, with a 
 faint voice, " Come in ;" the door opened, 
 and, to Ralph's astonishment, not Margery, 
 hut Cuthbert, entered the room. The loqua- 
 cious barber seated himself upon a joint-stool 
 by the side of the tasker, saying, " How now, 
 friend Ralph, I am sorry to find thee in such 
 a plight. One, I dare say, that loves you 
 well, has sent me to visit you." 
 
 Ralph readily comprehended that it was 
 Margery he was speaking about ; and though, 
 at the same time, he sincerely wished the 
 barber anywhere but there, thought himself 
 obliged to carry on the farce, and especially 
 as he conceived that his mistress had sent 
 him for pure love's sake ; and therefore he 
 replied, in a faint tone of voice, " In sooth,
 
 176 
 neighhbour Cutbert, I ha' been but ill at 
 
 ease." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I see that," said the barber, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 " But I be better now," continued Ralph. 
 
 « Better!" cried Cuthbert, " Why then do 
 I see you bound up in this manner, like a 
 corpse in a winding-sheet ?" 
 
 " O," said Ralph, « I be full of bruises and 
 scratches." 
 
 "Off then with these bandages, in the name 
 of Saint Luke," iquoth the barber ; " I have 
 a salve that will quell the pain in a second, 
 and heal them in a couple of hours ; away 
 with them, my friend, away with them." 
 
 " By no means," cried the tasker, resist- 
 ing the efforts of the barber, who had begun 
 to remove them; " the wounds are new dress- 
 ed, the pain is stinted, and 1 be doing well." 
 
 " Do not tell me of doing well," returned 
 the barber, catching hold of his arm ; " fye, 
 what a pulse is here ! and yet you tell me you
 
 177 
 
 are doing well ! By the holy cross of Bron- 
 holme, you was never doing worse in all your 
 life!" 
 
 " Cogs bones," exclaimed the tasker, ""you 
 will persuade me I am mad." 
 
 Here Cathbert groaned, and shook his 
 head. 
 
 u I tell you," continued Ralph, " I feel no 
 pain, nor the least uneasiness, but what you 
 give me by this disturbance. I want to sleep; 
 I have had no rest all night, and I prithee 
 leave me, for I find myself main sleepy." 
 
 w Leave you, indeed !" cried the barber, 
 " Heaven forefend ! To suffer you to sleep in 
 this plight, were to give you over to Diggory 
 the sexton, and make worms meat of you. 
 Your blood, honest Ralph, is in a perilous 
 ferment, and the morbid humours ascend to 
 the brain as thick as mots in a sunbeam. 
 Come, you must lose a little blood," conti- 
 nued he gravely ; " I never boast of my own 
 merits but I am the man shall set you to 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 
 
 rights in a hurry : after bleeding, we will put 
 you into an operation, and then you will be 
 as comfortable as if you were in paradise." 
 So saying, he took from his pouch two long 
 fillets, and his bleeding instruments, which he 
 laid upon a table that stood before him, and 
 enquired for a bason. 
 
 The tasker's patience was now quite ex- 
 hausted ; he expected Margery every minute> 
 and wisely foresaw, that if he could not get 
 rid of this troublesome visitor before her ar- 
 rival, his dissimulation, of necessity, would 
 be discovered; he therefore determined to 
 change his tone, and rising up suddenly, over- 
 turned the table on which the barber had de- 
 posited his bleeding apparatus, clinched his 
 fist, and exclaimed, " By the holy-rood, I 
 will be left alone ! Away with your knacke- 
 ries and your nonsence ; when I want you, I 
 will send for you." 
 
 « Ah poor man," replied the barber, shrug-
 
 179 
 
 ging up his shoulders, " I see how it is with 
 you." 
 
 " By the mass, I am glad on't," returned 
 Ralph; " and if you do not get out of the 
 house, [ beseech you take a fool's advice, and 
 do not oblige me to behave uncivilly." 
 
 " As for that matter, Master Ralph," said 
 the barber, f I must abide by the conse- 
 quence ; I can only say I am your friend, and 
 will not suffer you to be lost for the want of 
 proper remedies. Come, come, stint these 
 passions, choler increases your ailment; sit 
 down quietly, I will not take much blood 
 from you, nor hurt you so much as the prick- 
 ing of a needle." 
 
 " Art thou possessed ?" cried Ralph ; " by 
 the blood of Saint Thomas, I think the king 
 fiend Satan himself is in thee ! By the mass, 
 Cuthbert, thou art stark wode !" 
 
 " In your eyes, I doubt not," returned the 
 barber, shaking his head.
 
 180 
 
 " And will you not go V continued the tas- 
 ter angrily. 
 
 " Certainly not, my friend, without per- 
 forming my duty," replied Cuthbert coolly ; 
 and at the same time taking up the lancets 
 and fillets from the floor, he replaced the 
 table, and deposited them upon it a second 
 time. 
 
 a Once more," said Ralph, " I desire you 
 to quit the house." 
 
 " And once more, my fine fellow," an- 
 swered the barber, " I must tell you that I 
 will not leave you." 
 
 " Why, then, you are an obstinate old fool,'' 
 quoth Ralph ; " and may the arch fiend quell 
 me, if I do not turn you out of the house, 
 neck and heels together :" So saying, he 
 seized the barber by the collar of his tunic, 
 to put his threats in execution, when he, re- 
 treating towards the door, whistled aloud : 
 The soldiers immediately rushed in to his as- 
 sistance, and the poor tasker was presently
 
 181 
 
 overpowered. However, he did not submit 
 without violent resistance, and struggled more 
 like a Hercules than an invalid ; they pinion- 
 ed his arms, and tied his legs, regardless of 
 the bitter execrations he uttered, and the vows 
 he made of vengeance ; but, when he began 
 to bawl aloud for assistance, they thrust a gag 
 into his mouth, and having laid him at full 
 length in the cart, they covered him over 
 with the bed-rug ; they then shut the cottage 
 door, and conveyed him quietly to Cuthbert's 
 habitation. The little vixen who had occa- 
 sioned all this mischief, took her stand at her 
 chamber-window, where she watched, with 
 much anxiety, the approach of the cart. 
 When it passed by, she was greatly disap- 
 pointed at not seeing Ralph, who, as the 
 reader has been informed, was covered over 
 with a rug at the bottom ; she was therefore 
 fearful that her project had failed of success ; 
 but, as she was preparing herself to visit the 
 barber-doctor, one of the soldiers returned
 
 182 
 
 with the cart, and from him she learned, 
 that the enterprize had terminated, in all re- 
 spects, consonant to her most sanguine wishes. 
 " And now," said she to herself, as she return- 
 ed to her chamber, " my loving turtle will 
 have small cause to laugh at me for my sim- 
 plicity ; I only lament that the shrewd Master 
 Thomas, his friend and adviser,is not his com- 
 panion in this fool's purgatory."
 
 183 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 JN WHICH LORD BOTELER IS INTRODUCED, 
 AND THE STRANGER LADY DECLARES HER 
 
 NAME AND HER FAMILY. PROVES THE 
 
 BEAUTIFUL CHAPLET TO BE HER OWN. 
 
 The Lady Matilda, hearing that her father 
 was arrived, laid aside her wimple, and has- 
 tened down into the hall to receive him. He 
 came without company,' and having saluted 
 his daughter, they passed into the refec- 
 tory, where the baron took some refresh- 
 ment. When the table was uncovered, he 
 jocosely enquired why the Lady Eleanor did 
 not make her appearance to welcome him to 
 Tewin. " I thought," added he, " you had
 
 284 
 
 been inseparable companions ; but I hope she 
 
 is well ?" 
 
 " Perfectly so, my honoured lord/' re- 
 plied the lady ; « and, if she had known of 
 your arrival, would not have suffered me to 
 come alone :— but the reason of her absence 
 will be best explained by a recital of several 
 extraordinary adventures that have succeed- 
 ed each other in the course of a few hours." 
 She then related to her father all the mate- 
 rial circumstances that had taken place at 
 the May-games ; the occasion of her meet- 
 ing with the fair stranger at the Lodge 5 and 
 the manner in which that lady had been af- 
 fected at the sight of the chaplet. " And 
 now," said she, " my dear cousin, whose ten- 
 derness is not unknown to you, my lord, is 
 seated by the bed-side, and watching the 
 termination of the lovely stranger's slum- 
 bers." 
 
 c< Compassion well befits the nurtured 
 mind," replied the baron, " and the hallow-
 
 185 
 
 ed works of chanty add double lustre to all 
 the other virtues ; but the events which you 
 have now related, have no precedent." — Af- 
 ter musing a small space, he added, " By the 
 faith that I profess, they exceed my com- 
 prehension ; but, in truth, my dear Matilda, 
 they alarm me also. I beseech you, my child, 
 to make me your confidant. I give you my 
 solemn promise, that 1 will never force you 
 to an union contrary to your own inclination ; 
 I therefore hope, on your part, you will not 
 blindly cast yourself away upon a man unwor- 
 thy of you." 
 
 " I hope," said Matilda, anxiously, while 
 the tears glistened in her eyes, " I hope, my 
 dearest honoured father, you do not harbour 
 such a suspicion ?" 
 
 " No," returned the baron, pressing her 
 to his bosom, " no, my child ; by the saints 
 we hourly supplicate, I do only," continued 
 he, holding both her hands in his, " wish 
 you to remember, that at all times you would
 
 186 
 
 consider me as a friend to advise with, rather 
 than as a father to restrain." 
 
 " You are/' said she, affectionately, " you 
 are my father, my mother, and best, best 
 friend." She then pressed his hands to her 
 lips, and bathed them with her tears. 
 
 At this moment the Lady Eleanor entered 
 the room, and, running to her uncle, who re- 
 ceived her in his arms, she welcomed him 
 home. 
 
 As soon as the mutual congratulations were 
 over, Matilda enquired concerning the fair 
 visitor. 
 
 ** She is still sleeping," said the Lady Elea- 
 nor, " very composedly ; and I have placed 
 Dorothy, your ladyship's gentlewoman, as my 
 substitute, with orders to acquaint me when 
 she awakes." 
 
 The baron then caused his lovely daughter 
 to repeat the greater part of the circumstan- 
 ces she had previously related to him. He 
 dwelt particularly upon the sudden illness of
 
 187 
 
 the stranger lady, in whose cause both Ma- 
 tilda and her cousin had so much interested 
 themselves, and the declaration she had made 
 concerning the possessor of the chaplet, that 
 he was a murderer ; but the whole appeared 
 to bean inexplicable mystery, involving, how- 
 ever, some matters of great importance. 
 
 The baron became very thoughtful, and 
 an interval elapsed of perfect silence ; when 
 Dorothy, striking upon the door, informed 
 the ladies that the fair visitor was awake, and 
 had enquired anxiously for them, expressing 
 her desire of returning to the Lodge. 
 
 At the mention of the word return, the 
 Lady Matilda cast her lovely eyes upon her 
 father, without uttering a single syllable ; but 
 meeting his by a kind of intuition, entreated 
 permission for the lady to remain with them. 
 
 The baron perfectly understood her mean- 
 ing, and replied, " I think, my dear Matilda, 
 you should use your endeavours to prevail 
 upon your visitor to abide with you, at least
 
 188 
 
 until she is perfectly recovered from her in- 
 disposition ; for the accommodations at the 
 Lodge, I fear, are not sufficiently extensive 
 to make her situation there so comfortable 
 as it ought to be." 
 
 " My dearest lord/' cried Matilda, kissing 
 his hand, " that is exactly consonant with the 
 request I was about to make ; and, with your 
 permission, I will signify your invitation to 
 her myself." 
 
 " By all means," replied the baron ; " go 
 both of you : and when she is able to endure 
 the sight of a stranger, I pray you let me be 
 introduced ; for I do not know any reason," 
 continued he, with a smile, " why you should 
 engross an handsome lady to yourselves. In 
 the mean time, I have some letters of conse- 
 quence to write, and can dispense a while 
 with your attendance." So saying, he or- 
 dered his writing-desk to be brought ; and 
 the ladies, followed bv Dorothy, withdrew.
 
 189 
 
 The fair stranger had nearly adjusted even 
 part of her habiliments when the ladies en- 
 tered the room. She received their compli- 
 ments with so much modesty and elegancy 
 of manners, that her acquaintance appeared 
 to be still more desirable ; and the excuse 
 she made for the trouble she had occasioned, 
 was couched in the most pathetic terms, and 
 concluded with appropriate expressions of 
 heartfelt gratitude. Her auditors were charm- 
 ed with the graceful manner in which she 
 delivered her sentiments, and remained silent; 
 when she, having wiped away the tears that 
 gushed from her eyes, the involuntary wit- 
 ness of a wounded mind, heaved a gentle 
 sigh, and thus resumed her speech: " It is 
 now full time for me to withdraw from this 
 happy mansion. Joy veils his head where I 
 appear, and plainly tells me I ought not to 
 interrupt the felicity of others." Alter a pause, 
 she added, " I am indeed well aware, that the 
 sorrows which depress my mind render me
 
 190 
 
 unfit for the company of all, but those who, 
 like myself, are forlorn and wretched." 
 
 " We must not hear you say so," my dear 
 lady, replied the baron's fair daughter, em- 
 bracing her very affectionately ; " nor in- 
 deed shall we be prevailed upon to part with 
 you at an easy rate." 
 
 " By no means," added the Lady Eleanor; 
 " for a mind overwhelmed with grief ought 
 not to be left to itself to brood over a suc- 
 cession of melancholy reflections, much less 
 ought it be coupled with another mind suf- 
 fering under an equal depression : such ill- 
 judged conjunctions are frequently produc- 
 tive of fatal consequences. But the truth is, 
 both the lady my cousin, and myself, are 
 agreed to insist (permit me to use that term) 
 
 upon your remaining with us at least a few 
 
 i 
 days, if it be only by way of trial ; for we are 
 
 determined to exert our abilities to amuse 
 
 you." 
 
 The lovely visitor bowed her head, and
 
 191 
 
 modestly replied, " Your courtesies and con- 
 descension, my dear ladies, like the bounties 
 of benevolent saints and angels, freely be- 
 stowed upon an unfortunate stranger, claim 
 my grateful acknowledgments. I feel the 
 full force of an obligation conferred in so 
 delicate a form, which doubles its value by 
 the elegancy of its disguisement. But, alas ! 
 I have learned, from woeful experience, that 
 sorrow is a contagious disease ; for it not 
 only affects the mind in which it takes up its 
 residence, but spreads, in a degree, its bale- 
 ful influence to all around it." 
 
 " But give me leave," replied the Lady 
 Eleanor, " on the other hand, to add, that 
 cheerfulness is the best antidote to the con- 
 tagion ; nay more, it will not only prevent 
 the bystanders from infection, but will also 
 communicate, though perhaps but slowly, its 
 salutary effects to those who are struggling 
 with the potent malady. This remedy re- 
 quires y our application ; if it should prove,
 
 192 
 
 as we trust it will not, unsuccessful, after a 
 fair trial, the loss will be our own, and may 
 prove our want of skill; but I will answer for 
 it, our solicitude shall not be subjected to 
 the least impeachment." 
 
 The pensive fair one bowed her head in 
 token of assent, and was silent. The ladies 
 then informed her, that she was going to be 
 introduced to Lord Boteler : and Matilda, 
 perceiving she received this intelligence with 
 some degree of discomposure, added, " We 
 have made my honoured parent, who is but 
 lately arrived, acquainted with the principal 
 circumstances relative to the chaplet ; and, 
 my dear lady, you may be assured, that when 
 we introduce you to him, we shall introduce 
 you to a sincere friend, and I am certain he 
 is impatient to see you." 
 
 The fair stranger shook her head, and, cast- 
 ing her eyes upon the ground, replied, " I do 
 not, my dear benevolent ladies, in the least 
 doubt the excellency of the baron's heart:
 
 193 
 
 the amiable qualities of the daughter lead 
 me to expect all that is great and noble in 
 the father. But, alas ! my spirits are de- 
 jected with my fortune, and I am unfit to 
 move in that rank I once thought myself 
 bom to fulfil, [f I might stand excused " 
 
 " Indeed we must not permit it to be so," 
 said Eleanor, taking her by the hand : and at 
 the same moment the bell was rung in the 
 hall, to announce that the dinner was upon 
 the table. 
 
 The two ladies presented the fair stranger 
 to the baron, who politely rose from his place 
 to salute her; and himself conducted her to 
 the principal seat, covered with a velvet 
 cushion, bidding her welcome to Queenhoo- 
 hall. She returned his compliment with so 
 much sense and good breeding, that he was 
 at once convinced his daughter had not over- 
 rated her understanding or her quality Du- 
 ring the repast, the conversation was employed 
 upon divers subjects of general importance : 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 . 194 
 
 but after the table was cleared, and the ser- 
 vants withdrawn, the baron gave it a more 
 particular turn, and came by degrees to the 
 adventures of the May-day ; and after men- 
 tion had been made respecting the chaplet, 
 he addressed himself to his lovely visitant, 
 and begged to know, how it should have 
 been possible for that jewel, the sight of 
 which had so affected her, to be in the pos- 
 session of a knight, who, from his splendid 
 appearance, and numerous retinue, appeared 
 to be a person of some considerable rank 
 and opulence ? He paused ; but seeing she 
 had cast her eyes upon the ground, and 
 seemed not prepared to answer the question, 
 he went on, " I do not wish, my dearest 
 lady, to draw from you the least information 
 relative to your family, or of the circum- 
 stances that have made you unhappy, further 
 than shall be consistent with your own good 
 sense and prudence to declare ; but I cer- 
 tainly must wish, as well for your sake as for 
 
 2
 
 195 
 
 my daughter's, that some clue might he found 
 to unravel at least so much of this mysterious 
 adventure as relates to that chaplet." 
 
 " In truth, my lord," returned the young 
 lady, sighing, " it is totally inconsistent with 
 justice, reason, or gratitude, that I should 
 conceal from you, and these dear ladies, the 
 least circumstance relating to myself and to 
 my misfortunes, especially since it is those 
 very misfortunes that have procured me your 
 notice. You see before you the only branch 
 now existing of the Darcys of Foleshunt, in 
 Essex." 
 
 " How !" exclaimed the baron, greatly sur- 
 prised ; u Are you the daughter of John Lord 
 Darcy ?" 
 
 " My lord, I am," returned the lady ; "and 
 perhaps your lordship knew my father?" 
 
 " I, by the holy rood," said the baron, " I 
 knew him well ! — But where is then thy bro- 
 ther?"
 
 196 
 
 " I have no brother!" cried she, bursting 
 into tears. — " He is murdered ! — His loss I 
 deplore ! — And the wretch, who murdered 
 him, robbed us of that fatal garland !" 
 
 Her tears put a stop to her discourse, and 
 her auditory sat looking upon each other, 
 and wondering what might be the event of 
 a history, which began in so strange a man- 
 ner. — " 'Fore heaven," exclaimed Lord Bote- 
 ler, " I am greatly surprized ! — The murder- 
 er of a nobleman present a chaplet to my 
 daughter! — This matter must be sifted closely: 
 — But," added he, recollecting himself, " per- 
 chance, my dear lady, here may be some 
 mistake ; is it not possible that two such 
 chaplets may be made by the same artist, 
 and so nearly resembling each other as to 
 deceive the eye, even upon a minute inves- 
 tigation, and especially when they are not 
 both together, in order to be compared the 
 one with the other ?"
 
 197 
 
 u Your objection, in any other case, my 
 lord," replied the fair visitant, " would be a 
 weighty one; but there is a certain peculia- 
 rity attending this jewel, which will readily 
 prove that I am not mistaken : the intersec- 
 tion of the rose with the lily, upon the front, 
 is a device of my dear brother's ; and behind 
 the rose-leaf, which protuberates at the bot- 
 tom, you will find his name with mine, ena- 
 melled and embossed with gold." 
 
 " Pardon me, my dearest lady," said Elea- 
 nor, hastily, " but indeed there is no inscrip- 
 tion upon the jewel." 
 
 The lady answered, " I do not wonder at 
 your assertion, because you do not know that 
 the rose-leaf, which I have pointed out, may 
 be turned back by pressing upon a small 
 rose-bud towards the left hand, which com- 
 municates with a spring unseen, and gives it 
 liberty." 
 
 " Where is the chaplet ?'' said Lord Bote- 
 ler.
 
 19$ 
 
 " You shall see it instantly, my lord," re- 
 turned his lovely daughter. 
 
 And while she was gone to fetch it, his 
 lordship thus addressed himself to Lady Darcy: 
 " But if these marks be really wanting upon 
 this jewel, the accusation of the knight falls 
 to the ground, unless it shall appear that the 
 inscriptions have been removed." 
 
 fe They cannot be removed," returned the 
 lady, " without destroying the device, and 
 that I saw was perfect." 
 
 The Lady Matilda now returned, and put- 
 ting the jewel into her father's hand, he 
 pressed the rose-bud according to the direc- 
 tion given him ; the leaf fell back, and he 
 saw, inscribed with letters of gold, the names 
 of Henry and Emma Darcy. It was now 
 evident the fair lady was not deceived ; Ma- 
 tilda and her cousin were silent; while the 
 baron surveyed the chaplet with great atten- 
 tion. — " It is exceedingly rich," said he, " and 
 elegant; but not sufficiently so, I should hope,
 
 199 - 
 
 to entice a nobleman, bearing the honours of 
 knighthood, to forget his duty, become a 
 thief, and add the crime of murder to his 
 atrocities. Every circumstance relative to 
 this jewel tends to excite our curiosity ; for 
 which reason, I hope, we may prevail upon 
 vou, Lady Darcy, to continue your history, 
 and inform us by what manner it was taken 
 from vou." 
 
 " The loss of that chaplet," replied the fair 
 Emma, " involves the cause of most of my 
 misfortunes, at least of such of them as are the 
 most aggravated and poignant : a full detail 
 of them would exceed the bounds of your 
 patience to hear ; and though I shall endea- 
 vour to relate them as succinctly as possible, 
 I fear the long succession of melancholy 
 events, which of necessity must be touched 
 upon, will be tiresome, if not disgusting." 
 
 " I beseech you," said the baron, " to have 
 no concern upon our account ; but favour us 
 with the narrative, as circumstantially as pos-
 
 200 
 
 sible. Nothing can be more interesting to a 
 feeling mind, than the escape of beauty and 
 innocence from sorrow and oppression." The 
 young lady blushed, and bowed her head. 
 The baron's fair daughter, and her cousin 
 Eleanor, drew their stools near to the seat of 
 Lady Darcy, who began to relate the history 
 of her sufferings.
 
 £01 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 emma's tale — with the sequel of 
 Ralph's calamity. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In which Lady Emma Dairy begins the His- 
 tory of her Adventures; and as this Chapter 
 contains little more than common Occurrences, 
 the Reader is at liberty to hurry over it as 
 hastily as possible. 
 
 " It is, my lord, no doubt, well known to 
 you, that John Lord Darcy, my father, was 
 forbid the court, on account of some express 
 sions uttered by him respecting the conduct 
 of the ministers during the regency of Hum- 
 phrey Duke of Gloucester. He retired in 
 disgust to his estates at Foleshurrt Darcy, 
 
 VOL. 3. 7
 
 202 
 
 near Maldon, in Essex. In this retirement, 
 he married Elizabeth Saint Clere, the daugh- 
 ter of Richard Baron of Saint Clere, of Gay 
 Bowers " 
 
 At the name of Saint Clere, the Lady Elea- 
 nor whispered to her cousin Matilda, and the 
 baron thus addressed the fair speaker : " Par- 
 don me this interruption, my dear lady ; but 
 there is at present a young nobleman at court, 
 who is in great favour with the king, and he 
 calls himself Saint Clere : we have the plea- 
 sure of being acquainted with him ; and in- 
 deed I expect him at Tew in in the course of 
 the week. I understood he came from Es- 
 sex, and I presume he may be some relation 
 to you." 
 
 " No, my lord," replied the Lady Em- 
 ma, " that cannot be ; for there is but one 
 descendant of that ancient family existing 
 there, and that is an unworthy cousin, and 
 he lives in great obscurity at Gay Bowers, 
 his paternal seat. — But/' said she, having
 
 203 
 
 paused for a moment, " I have been informed 
 that there is a younger branch of the Saint 
 Cleres, who have been many years settled in 
 the northern parts of England ; and probably 
 the nobleman you mention may be thence 
 descended." 
 
 Lord Boteler bowed his head without re- 
 turning any answer, and the lady proceeded. 
 
 " Mv mother had five children, two sons 
 and three daughters : one of the sons and 
 two of the daughters died in their infancy. 
 After nine years seclusion from the court, 
 the baron, my father, was called upon to pay 
 a heavy subsidy, which had been voted by 
 the Parliament. This exaction he was bold 
 enough, I dare not say imprudent, to resist ; 
 and publicly, in the county court at Rum- 
 ford, accused the ministry of violating the 
 rights of the people, by laying heavy imposts 
 upon them, which no law could justify, and 
 which they ought not to bear. These speeches, 
 so openly delivered, could not be passed over
 
 204 
 
 unnoticed ; in fact, they were represented 
 with great exaggeration to the regent, who 
 determined to have him attached as a traitor 
 to his country, and brought to public trial. 
 My father, however, had a good friend in 
 the cabinet, who sent a trusty messenger to 
 give him timely notice of the proceedings 
 that were preparing against him. He left 
 the country without delay, and had the good 
 fortune to escape into Flanders. My mother 
 remained behind to settle the family affairs 
 in the best manner she was able ; and, having 
 collected what ready money she could, she 
 placed the writings of certain estates belong- 
 ing to her in the hands of Eustace Saint 
 Clere, her elder brother, and empowered him 
 to receive her jointure. When the regent 
 heard that my father had left the kingdom, 
 he laid an attainder on the manors of Foles- 
 hunt and Darcy ; the baron was cited to 
 appear on a certain day in the courts at West- 
 minster, to answer the charge of high trea-
 
 205 
 
 son ; and because he did not obey the sum- 
 mons, a sentence of outlawry was passed 
 against him, and the estates were declared 
 to be forfeited to the crown. My mother 
 quitted her native country with a heavy heart, 
 and took with her my brother and myself; 
 he was somewhat more than five years of 
 age, and I not quite two. We passed the 
 sea from Dover to Calais, and thence we 
 travelled into Flanders, where we found my 
 honoured father : he had purchased a small 
 but convenient mansion from a particular 
 friend and relation of his, who resided in that 
 country. Our habitation was situated in a 
 pleasant village, named Beaumont, near to 
 Avenes, which was under the protection of 
 the Duke of Burgundy. The baron thought 
 himself perfectly secure in this retreat, be- 
 cause the nobleman who presided there was 
 at that time highly offended with the Duke 
 of Glocester, on account of his marriage with 
 the Lady Jaqueline of Bavaria, notwithstand
 
 206 
 
 ing her husband, John Duke of Brabant, was 
 living : she had preferred, it is true, a bill of 
 divorcement against him, but the issue of the 
 suit was not determined in her favour. The 
 regent passed the seas with a considerable 
 army into Flanders, in order to take posses- 
 sion of Hainault in rieht of his wile : but 
 the Duke of Brabant, her first husband, be- 
 ing powerfully assisted by the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, opposed him so vigorously, that he 
 was constrained to return from the continent, 
 without effecting the purpose for which he 
 came. — But why do I dwell on these circum- 
 stances ? they are, no doubt, much better 
 known to you, my lord, than to me. 
 
 " My father, disgusted with the manners 
 of mankind at large, formed little or no ac- 
 quaintance with his opulent neighbours : but, 
 flying from society, he rarely went abroad, 
 and was as rarely visited, except by his friend 
 and relation the Chevalier John Boucmel, 
 with whom he was extremely intimate; and
 
 207 
 
 hardly a clay passed without their seeing each, 
 other : neither was it of any consequence at 
 whose house they met; the welcome was 
 equally candid on both sides, and given with- 
 out anv frivolous ceremonies. The leisure 
 that my dear parents found, from their recluse 
 manner of life, afforded them greater oppor- 
 tunity of superintending the education of my 
 brother and myself, which they did with much 
 solicitude ; calling in the assistance of tutors 
 best acquainted with such branches of know- 
 ledge as they judged most proper for us to 
 acquire. My brother, though trained to mar- 
 tial exercises, was however well grounded in 
 the polite arts, and esteemed an accomplished 
 scholar, It was his desire to become a sol- 
 dier, and his military studies were pursued 
 with much ardour. 
 
 " At the age of eighteen, on the day ap- 
 pointed for esquires to tilt, he won a rich 
 suit of mail armour, by maintaining the field 
 on his party against all comers, at a justing
 
 208 
 
 appointed by the constable of Hainault. This 
 dawn of his prowess was hailed by my father 
 as an omen of future glory. " Go on, my 
 dear child/' said he, " in the path of honour, 
 and acquire the ability to do your country 
 service ; and, if I mistake not, she will have 
 great need for men of valour to support her 
 cause." 
 
 '* My brother's inclination being perfectly 
 consonant with this advice, he was continu- 
 ally soliciting his father to procure an esta- 
 blishment for him in the English army, serving 
 at that time in France. Whenever a victory 
 was obtained by our brave countrjnmen, in 
 the midst of his acclamations of joy, he would 
 lament, that he had not been present in the 
 action, and a partaker of the glory. My dear 
 mother exerted herself to check this military 
 ardour, (for she was fearful of parting with 
 him,) but in vain ; and my father was actu- 
 ally arranging matters to procure him a com- 
 mand under some experienced warrior : but,
 
 209 
 
 before his friends had succeeded to his satis- 
 faction, he was seized with a violent fever, 
 which the power of medicine could not re- 
 strain, and in the course of a fortnight he 
 died. My mother was inconsolable for his 
 loss : and although my brother and myself 
 used every endeavour to assuage her sorrow, 
 our efforts were ineffectual ; for, in less than 
 six months after the decease of our dear fa- 
 ther-- we lost this excellent parent also. 
 
 " Thus my brother and I were left to our- 
 selves, at a time of life when we most needed 
 the assistance of good advice : both of us 
 young and unexperienced in the ways of the 
 world ; he not having attained his twentieth 
 year, nor I my seventeenth. Providence as- 
 sisted us by the interference of my father's 
 intimate acquaintance and friend, Chevalier 
 John Boucmel,who humanely took upon him- 
 self the management of our affairs, and ac- 
 quitted himself with the greatest tenderness 
 and integrity. The estate upon which we re- 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 210 
 
 sided, consisted principally of a well-built 
 mansion, with no more land belonging to it 
 than was necessary for the use of the family. 
 Our means of subsistence depended on cer- 
 tain estates that had been made over to our 
 uncle, the Baron of Saint Clere, previous to 
 the confiscation of the manors of Foleshunt 
 and Darcy, together with the annual income 
 from my mother's dowry. The monies hence 
 arising had been remitted to us with great 
 punctuality until the preceding year, when 
 a considerable defalcation was made, with 
 promise to account for it in the succeeding 
 payment, which, however, came not to hand. 
 " My mother, upon her death-bed, request- 
 ed that her dowry might be equally divided 
 between my brother and myself, and he faith- 
 fully promised to fulfil her desire. He not 
 only kept his word, but extended his genero- 
 sity beyond the bounds of moderation ; for 
 soon after the funeral ceremonies were per- 
 formed, he put into my hands a deed, by 
 
 2
 
 211 
 
 which he made over to me the whole of my 
 mother's property ; saying, at the same time, 
 " My dearest Emma, whatever may happen, 
 I can never want while I wear a sword, and 
 England needs a soldier." I refused to take the 
 deed, and assured him that the portion assign- 
 ed to me by my dear mother was sufficient. 
 He would not be so answered, and I continued 
 to decline his offer ; and, at last, we agreed 
 to refer the matter to the Chevalier John 
 Boucmel, our father's intimate acquaintance 
 and friend. The good old gentleman smiled 
 at the ardour of our contest, and said, " My 
 dear children, the warmth of affection which 
 you manifest for each other, does you both 
 great credit; but the matter cannot be set- 
 tled at present : You must call to mind that 
 you are both minors, and therefore this in- 
 strument is altogether invalid without the 
 consent of your uncle, who, I understand, is 
 your guardian." My brother then took the 
 opportunity of laying before the chevalier a
 
 212 
 
 fair statement of our affairs. He was much 
 surprized when he heard that our remittances 
 had been deficient ; and advised us, incon- 
 tinently, to part with the house in which we 
 resided, to sell the furniture to the best ad- 
 vantage, and go ourselves to England and 
 inquire into the cause of this delay. " There/' 
 said he, " you may settle yourselves advan- 
 tageously in the bosom of your friends and 
 relations ; and you, young gentleman," ad- 
 dressing himself to my brother, " through the 
 medium of your uncle's interest, will, no doubt, 
 easily obtain a commission in the army, so 
 be it you remain determined to give up a 
 life of ease and inactivity, for a career of 
 glory." My brother's eyes sparkled at the 
 idea, he grasped the chevalier's hand with 
 much earnestness, thanked him for his excel- 
 lent advice, and pledged himself to follow it 
 implicitly ; and, at the same time, begged 
 his assistance in the disposal of the property. 
 (t With respect to the mansion," said the
 
 213 
 
 chevalier, " I sold it to your father merely to 
 oblige him ; and as it has lately been put 
 into good repair, I will act on the same prin- 
 ciple with you ; that is, L will return you the 
 full purchase-money ; and you, my dear chil- 
 dren, are welcome to the use that has been 
 made of it. — Nay, I beseech you,, do not 
 interrupt me," for my brother and I were 
 both attempting to express our gratitude : 
 " You know that a strict intimacy was main- 
 tained between your father and myself; but 
 perhaps you have yet to learn, that, in the 
 early part of my life, he rendered me many im- 
 portant services, which I have not forgotten : 
 since, therefore, it has pleased God to take him 
 from us, those claims of gratitude which be- 
 longed to him, become your due; and believe 
 me, my dear children, to be your sincere friend. 
 I am much surprized at the failure in your re- 
 mittances, and perfectly agree with you, that 
 your journey to England is necessary : but, 
 at the same time, when you have settled mat-
 
 214 
 
 ters there, if you should, for any reason, prefer 
 being in this country to your own, my house 
 will ever be open for your reception. — Hold," 
 said he again, preventing us from speaking ; 
 " I am thinking about the disposal of your 
 furniture, and that I can get rid of it better 
 than by public sale. A few days past, Du- 
 ville, my neighbour, was desirous of enga- 
 ging a house like this for a friend of his, a 
 merchant of Brussels, who is retiring from 
 business ; if he be not already provided, this 
 house may suit him ; and as the furniture is 
 exceedingly neat and appropriate, it will an- 
 swer both your purposes, if he will take it at 
 a fair valuation. 1 will go to him this instant, 
 and, if possible, close the bargain with a 
 word." So saying, he hurried out of the 
 room without giving us time to express our 
 thankfulness. 
 
 " Next morning our good friend returned. 
 " I give you joy, my dear children," cried 
 he ; " I have been successful : my neighbour
 
 £15 
 
 is empowered to use his discretion ; and has 
 agreed to treat for the whole of the furniture as 
 it now stands. He will be here presently with 
 a person, who is a judge of its value, to exa- 
 mine it ; and I have engaged a man of pro- 
 bity to do the same on your behalf." In 
 short, the parties met, the goods were valued 
 perfectly to our satisfaction, and one week 
 was allowed us to prepare for our removal. 
 Our dear benefactor insisted on our making 
 his house our home. 
 
 " At the appointed time, we discharged 
 all our servants, and quitted the venerable 
 mansion ; but not without some few drops 
 that involuntarily fell from my eyes. We 
 resided nearly a month with our friend ; and 
 when he found that he could not detain us 
 any longer, he consented to our departure. 
 c( But," said he, " to-morrow I shall have 
 occasion to go to Amiens, and, in my way 
 thither, shall pass through Landrecy and Saint 
 Quinten ; I am desirous of prevailing on yon
 
 Q\6 
 
 to accompany me in this journey : it is in- 
 deed a much wider circuit than it is needful 
 for you to make, but, at the same time, it 
 will afford the young lady an opportunity of 
 seeing more of the country ; and, to prevent 
 fatigue, the stages shall be made as easy as 
 possible: it will also be more safe, if not 
 more pleasant, to travel with company, espe- 
 cially as the lower borders of Flanders are in- 
 fested with freebooters. From Amiens, where 
 I must leave you, the road is direct to Abbe- 
 ville ; and thence, through Saint Omars, to 
 Calais ; and all the way you will be under the 
 protection of your countrymen." 
 
 The Lady Emma had proceeded thus far, 
 when suddenly a violent clamour was heard 
 in the hall, which somewhat alarmed the la- 
 dies, and they withdrew to their apartments; 
 and the baron rang the hand-bell, and being
 
 217 
 
 answered by one of the pages, he enquired 
 into the cause of the disturbance. 
 
 " My lord/' said the page, ", it is Gammer 
 Everid, the mother of your lordship's tasker, 
 Iialph, with Sim Glover and his wife, who 
 desire to speak with your lordship immedi- 
 ately, upon a matter of life and death." 
 
 " Indeed," said the baron, rising from his 
 seat, " it ought to be somewhat of conse- 
 quence to occasion such an outcry ; prithee 
 show her in." 
 
 The page obeyed, and the old woman, co- 
 vered with blood, was ushered in between 
 her two neighbours, to the baron's great sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Holy St Anthony, my good dame," said 
 he, " what mischance has happened to you !" 
 
 " May it please your honour's grace, I am 
 a poor lone woman," replied the good woman, 
 sobbing, and wringing her hands ; " my hus- 
 band has been dead, heaven rest his saul! 
 five years, seven months, and three days, at_
 
 218 
 
 the hour of vespers. Oh he was a rare-good 
 man, ywis ; and my boy Ralph, the staff of 
 my old age, takes after him to a charm ; and 
 if your lordship will not take the poor boy's 
 part, and cut the tramels in which he is mew- 
 ed by that grey-bearded preacher, Cuthbert 
 the barber, he will be murdered." 
 
 * Murdered !" cried the baron ; " is the 
 barber so desperate a man ?" 
 
 " He will kill him as dead as a door-nail. 
 Oh me, Oh me, what shall I do !" 
 
 " Why, good woman," said the baron, " if 
 you talk on in this manner, how am I to 
 know your grievance ? Speak one of you," 
 addressing himself to Sim Glover and his 
 wife. 
 
 Sim was about to reply ; but Dame Glover 
 placed herself before him, and thus addressed 
 his lordship : "May it please your nobleness, 
 just two days ago, Sim Glover, your lord- 
 ship's varlet, and myself, with Goody Eve- 
 rid, went to Hemel Hempstead, which your
 
 219 
 
 grace knows is three or four leagues beyond 
 Saint Alban's, because, as how Sim, your 
 lordship knows, and myself, had some busi- 
 ness there, and Dame Everid went along ; for 
 she had set her merk to a parchment will, 
 and was a witness ; so, and please your ho- 
 nour, we all went together ; I and Sim rode 
 upon Oldcrop, and Dame Everid upon the 
 hobby, which Hob Filcher bought for ma- 
 dam Rut, the doctor's wife, but was return- 
 ed because it is wall-eyed." 
 
 " Stop, good dame," cried the baron, 
 " what has this to do with the barber ?" 
 
 *" Nothing, your honour, but I was telling 
 the whole truth ; and Allan, the parish-clerk, 
 when I went to Master Bailey about Straw- 
 berry, your honour's cow, that was stole by 
 crook-nosed Dick, the rat-taker, bid me to 
 tell all that I knowed." 
 
 ft At this rate, we shall not have done till 
 midnight: come, Dame Everid, cease your
 
 220 
 
 lamentation, and let me hear what you have 
 to say respecting the barber and your son." 
 
 u Why j 3 T our honour/' said the dame, sob- 
 bing, " when I corned home from Hemel 
 Hempstead, which was about nine o'clock this 
 morning, I found the things in my house at 
 sixes and sevens ; nay, the very house was 
 turned out at the windows, as one may say, 
 and Ralph taken from home by the knavish 
 barber, poor lad, against his will, and car- 
 ried to the Lower Green, where he has bleed- 
 ed, and shaved, and sweated, till he is as thin 
 as a lash, a mere walking-string, and his face 
 is as gaunt as a Ian thorn." 
 
 " And all this done against his will r" said 
 the baron. 
 
 " As sure as I be before your honour, Ralph 
 told me so ; and if }-our honour does not take 
 him out of the vile barber's clutches, and that 
 right soon, he will be dead anon — and then 
 what shall I do for my boy, my poor boy 
 Ralph !" 

 
 221 
 
 The baron knew nol well what to make of 
 this discourse ; but, however, he thought it 
 the best way to" send for Cuthbeit instantly, 
 and hear what he had to say upon the sub- 
 ject. A messenger was then dispatched, re- 
 quiring his instant attendance ; in the mean- 
 time, the circumstances relating to Ralph's 
 sufferings were more fully explained. 
 
 The baron could hardly refrain from smiling 
 when Cuthbeit entered into the room, — his 
 face covered with black patches, just over 
 the parts that had been marked by the nails 
 of Dame Everid : and when he was question- 
 ed relative to the present state of the tasker, 
 he replied, with much gravity, that he had, 
 only performed his duty; for that Ralph was 
 totally out of his wits, and he would prove so 
 in the face of the whole world. " I have put 
 him," continued he, " into a rare operation, 
 and he is nearly restored to his reason ; but, 
 as your lordship knows, it would not become 
 me to praise myself; yet, if I be not hindered
 
 222 
 
 in my proceedings, I will make him as tame as 
 a lamb by twenty operations more. Why, my 
 lord, when I took him first, he was in a doleful 
 paroxysm of madness - y the prior of Tewxbury's 
 bull was never more furious ; it required the 
 utmost exertions of three brawny knaves, be- 
 sides what assistance 1 could give, to confine 
 him — when in comes this good dame, who 
 is almost as mad as her son, for she was pre- 
 paring to unbind him ; and, because I pre- 
 vented the endangerment of all our lives, by 
 keeping her from him, she set upon me 
 in my own house, beat and bruized me to a 
 jelly, and scarified my face with her nails j 
 moreover, she beat her own head against 
 the bed-foot, and by that means her head is 
 covered with blood in this unseemly man- 
 ner." 
 
 Dame Everid here lost all her patience, 
 and exclaimed, " Thou art a false knave, and 
 I will prove it to thy beard ; you threw me 
 down, you know you did, and brought in
 
 223 
 
 your big-boned churles to thrust me into the 
 street, and forced me from my son, who is 
 nearly murdered already, and, by the blessed 
 Lady Mary, he is as much in his wits as you 
 are!" 
 
 The baron then demanded from Cuthbert 
 b} r what authority, or by whose orders, he 
 had proceeded so far with the tasker. 
 
 Cuthbert then related the whole of what 
 had passed between Margery and himself; 
 and did not forget to tell him, that she had 
 paid him for the three first operations. 
 
 Sim Glover and his wife were much asto- 
 nished at this information ; it was also a mat- 
 ter of equal surprize to Dame Everid. 
 
 The baron then thought it necessary for 
 Ralph to be brought, and also to have Mar- 
 gery before him, in order to learn from her 
 the motives for her proceedings. 
 
 When Margery was introduced before the 
 baron, and saw the bloody appearance of
 
 224 
 
 l)ame Everid, and the patched face of Cuth- 
 bert, she was terribly frightened ; and, con- 
 ceiving that some affray of a very serious 
 consequence had taken place, she fell upon 
 her knees, intreating forgiveness, and made 
 an ample confession of every circumstance, 
 from the communication with the weird-wo- 
 man, to the bargain she had made with the 
 barber-doctor. 
 
 The developement of this curious transac- 
 tion included so many ridiculous circum- 
 stances, that the company could not refrain 
 from laughter; and especially when Ralph was 
 brought forward, wrapped up in a blanket, 
 supported by two of the baron's domestics, 
 his shaved temples appearing before the vo- 
 lupure, and his countenance was so lank and 
 pale, like that of an emaciated bishop ascend- 
 ed from the grave. He surveyed the com- 
 pany with a wild and a vacant stare, which 
 would, in some measure, have confirmed the
 
 225 
 
 affirmation of the barber respecting the loss 
 of his senses, had not the treatment he had 
 endured been made known. 
 
 The baron, finding that nothing more se- 
 rious was likely to come from what had pass- 
 ed, commanded that Ralph should be re- 
 stored to his mother ; that the money Cuth- 
 bert had received for his trouble, should be 
 laid out in nourishing food to restore the 
 poor tasker to his pristine vigour ; admonish- 
 ing the barber, by the loss he had now sus- 
 tained, to be more cautious how he proceed- 
 ed in future, and not to mistake health for 
 disease, nor sanity for madness. With re- 
 spect to Margery, he was somewhat more se- 
 vere : He admonished her not to be so anxious 
 of prying into the secrets of futurity, nor to 
 sport with the life or constitution of another, 
 but to mind her spinning, and endeavour to 
 perfect herself in the duties of a good house- 
 wife. This done, he prevailed upon the dif- 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 
 
 ferent parties to take each other's hands, to 
 disclaim all ill-will in future, and then dis- 
 missed them. 

 
 SS7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Lddy Emmas History continued. — A Tempest, 
 and an adventure worthy the attention of the 
 Reader. 
 
 As soon as the uproar, occasioned by the in- 
 vestigation of Ralph's misfortunes, had sub- 
 sided, the ladies returned to the room of 
 state, and earnestly requested the Lady Em- 
 ma to resume her narration, which she did 
 in the following words : 
 
 fC In our road towards Abbeville, we came to 
 a large plain, exceedingly dusty, and without 
 any shade, so that the heat of the sun, which 
 was still high, became very oppressive. To 
 the right was a large wood, through which a 
 feeaten path seemed to lead in the direction
 
 %Z8 
 
 we were travelling. My brother, conceiving 
 it would fall into the main road again, was 
 desirous to make the essay ; the rather as he 
 saw some woodmen employed at a distance, 
 from whom he might enquire concerning the 
 justness of his conjecture ; accordingly, he 
 entered the recess, and I followed him. When 
 he came up to the rustics, they informed him 
 that the path did actually lead towards Ab- 
 beville, and that by pursuing it, we should 
 save at least half a league of our journey. We 
 were much rejoiced at this information, and 
 found the cool air in the shade exceedingly 
 refreshing:. We rode on several miles without 
 the least interruption ; and coming at last to 
 a spring of clear water, 1 entreated my brother 
 to stop, that I might taste some of it, for I 
 found myself exceedingly thirsty. " In good 
 time, my dear Emma," said he ; and be „h of 
 us alighting, he fastened the horses to a tree, 
 and taking a horn that hung at the end of his 
 bauldric, without which he seldom travelled,
 
 229 
 
 he dipped some of the water, and presented 
 it to me, which, at that time, seemed to pos- 
 sess more desirable qualities than the most 
 precious wine. He then took his huke from 
 his saddle-bow, and spreading it upon a bank 
 of moss, we both sat down at the foot of a 
 large oak, by the side of the rivulet : the birds 
 were singing among the branches of the trees, 
 and every part of the scene was so truly ro- 
 mantic, that I could not help smiling while 
 I thus addressed my brother : " Methinks, my 
 dear Henry> we are like the hero and he- 
 roine of some legendary tale, seated by the 
 purling stream, listening to the songs of Phi- 
 lomel, and waiting for some great adventure." 
 " But giants and dragons are not the cham- 
 pions of the present day," said he. u I know 
 it," returned I ; " yet the situation, now rea- 
 lized to us, bears more analogy to the spirit 
 of romance, than ever T thought likely for me 
 to experience." This led to longer discourse, 
 respecting the reverse of fortune that had
 
 230 
 
 brought us to that spot : but our conversation 
 was interrupted ; for the day growing suddenly 
 dark, a brisk gale of wind agitated the leaves 
 of the trees, and, by its murmuring around, 
 announced a change of weather. " Come, my 
 dear Emma," said my brother, te let us-mount 
 our horses, and make the best of our way to 
 Abbeville ; for, if 1 be not deceived, we shall 
 have rain before we complete our journey." 
 He then assisted me to regain my saddle, and 
 leaping hastily into his own, we turned the 
 path with no small degree of alacrity ; hut 
 the darkness increased, and we heard the 
 thunder rolling at a distance. To complete 
 our misfortunes, we now came to a place 
 where three other paths fell into our path, 
 and all of them seemed to be equally beaten. 
 We had no time for consideration : the rain 
 came on with great violence. " We must 
 not stop," said my brother ; " I will neither 
 turn to the right or the left, but take the road 
 .that lies immediately before me." To this I
 
 231 
 
 readily assented ; and we rode on without 
 making any abatement in our speed, till such 
 time as it grew so dark that our horses could 
 not readily find the way, and were frequently 
 frightened by the lightning, which was ex- 
 ceedingly fierce and tremendous. The rain 
 fell in torrents, so that the thickest trees af- 
 forded no shelter ; besides, my brother as- 
 sured me, that it was exceedingly dangerous 
 to stand under them during the thunder- 
 storm. I now began to be exceedingly fa- 
 tigued, which my brother perceiving, slacken- 
 ed his pace. " And indeed," said he, " I doubt 
 that I have mistaken the path ; for certainly 
 the time that we have been riding, is more 
 than was necessary for us to have reached Ab- 
 beville." " I fear it is so," replied I ;.** but 
 surely it will not be proper for us to return : 
 without doubt, we are near the borders of the 
 forest, and possibly may find some house to 
 give us shelter." I had scarcely spoken, when 
 we heard the sound of the vespers belL, be=
 
 232 
 
 longing to some distant monastery, which 
 greatly rejoiced us, and in a short time we 
 came to an open road. The tempest in- 
 creased, and the night was dark beyond con- 
 ception, excepting only when the glare of the 
 lightning illuminated the objects round about 
 us, which so much terrified our horses, that 
 we could hardly keep them in the path ; and 
 twenty times, at least, I narrowly escaped 
 being thrown from mine. My brother, ap- 
 prehensive for my safety, was continually 
 calling upon me ; and though I was frighten- 
 ed nearly to death, sinking with fatigue, and 
 drenched with the rain, I answered him with 
 all the cheerfulness that I was mistress of, 
 and did not let him know my danger, nor 
 how severe my sufferings were. At length, 
 to our mutual joy, we perceived, at a small 
 distance before us, a light, resembling that 
 of a lamp or candle, which indicated the ha- 
 bitation of some human being ; we rode up 
 to it, and had the satisfaction to find that it
 
 233 
 
 was placed in the window of an inn, and, ap- 
 parently, by no means a small one. We 
 knocked at the gate, and having obtained 
 admittance, enquired if we could be accom- 
 modated there in such a manner as our un- 
 comfortable situation required ? To which the 
 innkeeper, with a low bow, replied, " No 
 where better, and please your honours, in all 
 Picardy." My brother then sprang from his 
 horse, and caught me in his arms, as I was 
 descending from the saddle, and recommend- 
 ed me to the hostess and her daughter, who 
 were come to receive me. I was ushered 
 into a room hung with tapestry, as old, for 
 aught 1 know, as the time of the Norman 
 conqueror. The hostess, seeing that I was 
 thoroughly wet with the rain, caused a large 
 faggot of wood to be brought, which was li- 
 berally cast upon the hearth, and set on fire 
 in an instant. My mantle, and the other 
 external parts of my clothes, were taken away 
 to be dried in an outer-room, but I retained
 
 234 
 
 my coat-hardy, the sort of tunic I always 
 used when travelling in the summer. I seat- 
 ed myself before the fire, and in a little time 
 the dampness was perfectly exhaled. The hos- 
 tess, meanwhile, was exceedingly loquacious ; 
 first boasted much of the accommodation the 
 inn afforded ; and afterwards, giving her con- 
 versation a different turn, she seemed ex- 
 ceedingly desirous of knowing who we were, 
 whence we came, and whither we were go- 
 ing. I did not, however, judge it necessary 
 to satisfy her curiosity any farther, than by 
 acquainting her, that we came from Amiens, 
 were proceeding to Abbeville, and had lost 
 our way. " Blessed Mary Virgin S" cried 
 she, " to Abbeville ! — You have indeed lost 
 your way, marry, -and in truth ; you are at this 
 time as far from Abbeville, within a league 
 at least, as when you was at Amiens !" My bro- 
 ther now joined us, and the hostess proceed- 
 ed no further. He was followed by the host, 
 who came to welcome us, and to inquire what
 
 235 
 
 kind of refreshment we should choose, add- 
 ing, that his house afforded the best of every 
 kind. My brother desired him. to bring us 
 some good wine, and to make it hot with 
 spices, as a preventative to cold. He then 
 pulled off his huke, his mantle, and his upper 
 tunic, which was no sooner done than the 
 hostess brought him her husband's Sunday 
 cloak to throw over his shoulder^ while his 
 own garments were drying, so that a second 
 faggot was added to our fire ; and the host 
 returning with the wine, pulled out a little 
 cup from his pocket, which he filled from the 
 flaggon, and drinking a waisall to us, gave a 
 smack with his lips, and declared it was the 
 best in all Picardy. He then filled our cups, 
 and placed the flaggon upon the table, en- 
 quiring what we would order for supper. 
 " That order," says my brother, " must de- 
 pend, my good host, upon what your larder 
 will furnish." " As for that indeed," said he, 
 " had you been lucky enough to have come
 
 236 
 
 the day before yesterday, by Saint Anthony, 
 I could have furnished you with any thing, 
 from an ortolan to an ox ; but, not expect- 
 ing such good company to-night, I have kill- 
 ed no pullen ; I have indeed got plenty of 
 eggs, a couple of fine pigeons taken from the 
 dove-house this morning, and a shoulder of 
 red-deer, hanging up in the pantry, which 
 Blasson, his lordship's ranger, gave me yes- 
 terday." ** Enough," said my brother ; and 
 having consulted me, we agreed that some 
 eggs and the pigeons would be sufficient 
 for us. That point being settled, my brother 
 enquired how far we were from Abbeville ? 
 The host informed us, at least four leagues. 
 " Because," said my brother, " I am inclined, 
 when the rain abates, to proceed towards that 
 city, after having taken our supper." " By 
 Saint Louis," cried the host, " but it shall not 
 be with my advice ! the road is very indiffe- 
 rent, and, besides, it is infested with freeboot- 
 ing-soldiers, — a murrain take them ! — who rob
 
 237 
 
 «md plunder wherever they come ; aye, and do 
 worse things besides. — The lady, I am sure/ 7 
 continued he, looking at me, " will not be 
 able to endure the fatigue, if we should leave 
 the danger out of the bargain — but, suppose 
 yourself there, by the truth of man, you would 
 not find yourself better accommodated with 
 beds, nor more convenient lodgings, than I 
 have got at your service." While he was 
 speaking, a tremendous clap of thunder shook 
 the room, and we heard the rain falling in 
 torrents from the roof of the house. These 
 arguments were full as powerful as any that 
 had been urged by the host to induce us to 
 stay with him. Our assent being given, he 
 ordered his daughter to make ready the rooms 
 for our reception, and retired himself to pro- 
 vide the supper. 
 
 " Notwithstanding all the praises that our 
 host had bestowed on his wine, we found it 
 very indifferent; however, we made no com- 
 plaint. The supper was served up ; but my
 
 238 
 
 mind was occupied with reflections upon the 
 strangeness of our situation, — a situation en- 
 tirely new to me, and not much less so to my 
 brother ; so that I could not eat, and half of 
 a pigeon satisfied him. We attempted to 
 rally each other on our want of knowing the 
 world, as we called it, but without success : 
 the sallies of vivacity were rather forced than 
 natural; and, for my own part, I was infinitely 
 more inclined to weep than to be mirthful. 
 My brother perceived that I was greatly fa- 
 tigued, and therefore insisted upon my re- 
 tiring to rest ; accordingly, he summoned the 
 hostess to conduct me to the chamber pre- 
 pared for me, declaring, that he would in- 
 dulge himself upon the settle by the fire-side, 
 that he might be ready, upon the approach 
 of morning, to see that the horses were pro- 
 perly dressed ; for his intention was to set 
 out early in the morning. This resolution of 
 sitting by the fire was violently opposed by 
 the hostess, who assured him that the beds
 
 239 
 
 were well aired, and as good as any in the 
 country; and'this assertion was seconded' by 
 the host, who had followed his wife into the 
 room. The hostess then added, "If the 
 young lady be afraid to sleep alone, my 
 daughter shall lie in the same chamber, upon 
 a little pallet that stands by her bed-side." 
 This offer my brother prevailed upon me to 
 accept of, and yielded himself to their soli- 
 citations; being assured that no care should 
 be wanting respecting the horses, and that 
 he should be called as early as he required in 
 the morning: and indeed the people spoke 
 with such apparent sincerity, that it would 
 have been churlish to have given the denial. 
 Having embraced my dear brother, we part- 
 ed from each other; I following the daughter, 
 and he the father, to our chambers. Though 
 I had not a distant thought, that the host or 
 hostess had formed any malevolent designs 
 against us, yet I parted from Henry with the 
 
 greatest reluctance ; and pardon me, ladies," 
 
 7
 
 240 
 
 said she, while she heaved a deep sigh, and 
 wiped away the tears that started from her 
 eyes, " little did I think that I should never, 
 never see my dearest Henry any more ! — 
 But I forget myself, and my feelings lead me 
 to foretel the story of my misfortunes. — The 
 tempest still continued — the rain beat against 
 the casement of my chamber — and the furious 
 gusts of wind, to which it was exposed, kept 
 it in constant agitation. The horrors of the 
 night added not a little to the uneasiness of my 
 mind. The inn-keeper's daughter assisted me 
 to undress, and, in her way, was complaisant 
 and obliging; but she was very fearful of the 
 thunder, and was constantly calling upon Saint 
 Agnes, repeating her ave-maries, or uttering 
 some ejaculations from her Primer. This 
 circumstance indeed pleased me ; and thence 
 I formed a very favourable opinion of her 
 piety. However, she had not long been 
 in bed before she fell asleep, and I was 
 not the least inclined to disturb her rest;
 
 241 
 
 I only wished to participate in her repose, 
 but I could not sleep. I heard the midnight 
 bell of a neighbouring convent calling its 
 inhabitants to their devotions, and I offered 
 up my fervent prayers to heaven for my bro- 
 ther's safety. Some time after, I closed my 
 eyes in a kind of melancholy stupor, and, 
 half asleep half awake, a thousand dreadful 
 imaginations crowded into my mind. — My 
 garments appeared to be besoiled with blood. 
 I then thought that I was walking in a strange 
 place, where a heap of dead bodies obstruct- 
 ed my passage. I was then labouring to 
 ascend steep rocks and precipices without 
 assistance, or made the spectator of pompous 
 funerals. At last, however, my dear brother 
 appeared to me standing by my bed-side co- 
 vered with wounds, and his countenance over- 
 spread with a ghastly paleness. He reached 
 out his hand, and laid hold of mine, — his 
 hand was as cold as ice : he then looked wish- 
 fully at me, and, in a hollow tone of voice , 
 
 VOl, I. Q
 
 242 
 
 said, Sister, remember me! The coldness of 
 the hand, the solemnity of the address, had 
 such an effect upon my mind, that I started 
 upright in the bed, confused and affrighted 
 to such a degree, that it was a long time 
 before I could sufficiently recollect myself, or 
 be convinced that these dreadful appearances 
 were not the effects of reality. The thun- 
 der had subsided, but the wind and the rain 
 were not the least abated : the lamp, by some 
 means, was extinguished, and we were in total 
 darkness. While I was sitting upright in the 
 bed, I thought, during an interval of tem- 
 pest, that I heard a confused rumbling in an 
 adjacent chamber, and a faint cry of murder. 
 " Oh, blessed Lady," cried I, clasping my 
 hands together, " what horrid exclamation is 
 that!" A sudden gust of wind at this moment 
 shook the casement so furiously, that I ex- 
 pected it would have been blown in upon us. 
 When the turbulence of the storm became 
 less violent, I listened with the greatest atten- 
 
 l
 
 24S 
 
 lion, but did not hear the rumbling noise 
 within any more, nor repetition of the fearful 
 cry : I then endeavoured to persuade myself, 
 that the whole was merely the effect of my 
 bewildered imagination. Close by my bed- 
 side, the inn-keeper's daughter slept soundly; 
 not being disturbed either by my restlessness, 
 or the violent rattling of the window. I was 
 several times tempted to awaken her ; but 
 then again I considered that it could not an- 
 swer any good purpose ; and for that reason 
 I left her to her repose. All the efforts, how- 
 ever, that I made to tranquillize my mind 
 were altogether ineffectual; fresh images of 
 terror floated before my eyes whenever I 
 attempted to close them: I fancied that my 
 hand, which my brother had grasped, was 
 cold as ice; and the solemn words, — Remem- 
 ber me ! — sounded in my ears like a warning- 
 voice from heaven. Oh, gracious saints and 
 angels, what a night did I pass ! and what a 
 morning followed !"
 
 244 
 
 Here she paused for a while ; but having 
 wiped her eyes, which were bathed with 
 tears, she thus resumed her discourse : — 
 
 u Upon the first appearance of the dawn 
 of day, I awoke my companion, and she as- 
 sisted me to dress myself ; and the moment 
 I had so done, I entreated her to show me to 
 my brother's room. While she was slipping 
 on her juppon, I went to the casement; the 
 storm, that had continued with such violence 
 during the night, was passed over, and I saw 
 the sun, without the intervention of a cloud, 
 emerging from the horizon. I bowed my 
 head in reverence to the Maker of that glo- 
 rious luminary, and repeated a paternoster; 
 then, turning to my companion, I entreated 
 her not to delay : she yielded to my solici- 
 tations, and, without having laced the bosom 
 of her kirtel, quitted the room, and bid me 
 follow her. " But," says she, " you will dis- 
 turb the young chevalier ; for I dare say he 
 is asleep." " Do not fear that," said I ; " but
 
 245 
 
 if it should prove so, I know that he will ex- 
 cuse me: but where is the door?" " Here, 
 just before us," said she, leading me through 
 the return of a long gallery. " Well then," 
 said I, " rap at it gently." She then stopped 
 short, and replied, u This is the door, lady ; 
 but it is open. Saint Genevieve protect me ! 
 the chevalier sleeps with his door open." " Is 
 it possible !" said I. " Yes, indeed," said she, 
 drawing back : " I beseech you, lady, go in; 
 for I would not have him see me thus un- 
 dressed for an angel of gold." My mind 
 instantly misgave me ; the terrors of the night 
 returned ; the fatal words sounded in my ears; 
 and I trembled while I passed by her to enter 
 the chamber; calling out at the same time, 
 " Brother, my dear brother, where are you r" 
 Judge then — but who can judge that has not 
 been involved in the same deplorable circum- 
 stances ? — what I felt upon seeing the bed- 
 clothes disturbed, and cast upon the floor; but 
 not so as a person would have left them rising
 
 U6 
 
 in the usual way from his rest, and rny hrother 
 not there. " Surety," said I, turning to the 
 girl, who now ventured to look in, " you have 
 brought me to the wrong chamber." " Indeed, 
 my lady," said she, " this is the chamber I 
 prepared for the chevalier; and you see that 
 some one has been in the bed." A flood of 
 tears prevented my returning an answer; but 
 entering the room a little further, I saw a 
 gisarme, stained with blood, lying upon the 
 floor, which was also covered with blood in 
 several places. The girl perceiving that I 
 was greatly distressed, said, in a soothing tone 
 of voice, " I beseech you, lady, do not cry 
 so, and take on ; the chevalier has risen 
 sooner than usual, and is only gone to see 
 after the horses, or to refresh himself with 
 the morning air." I then, unconscious of 
 what I was doing, seized upon her hand, and 
 drawing her further into the chamber, point- 
 ed to the blood upon the floor, and the blood- 
 stained gisarme ; and then clasping my hands
 
 247 
 
 together, exclaimed, in bitterness of soul, 
 " My brother, my dear brother, is surely 
 murdered !" " Murdered ! " cried the girl, 
 and trembled while she spoke. " Saint Denis 
 forbid !" and then, to my astonishment, started 
 backwards, calling out with all her strength, 
 " Thieves, thieves ! My father is robbed ! We 
 are undone !" Her powerful vociferations 
 soon raised the people of the house ; and the 
 first that came was the inn-keeper himself, 
 half undressed, and rubbing his eyes. He 
 hastily enquired what was the reason for this 
 outcry. " You are robbed !" said his daugh- 
 ter. " Your coffer is broken open ; the plate 
 is gone ; and the young chevalier is not to 
 be found !" " By Saint Ursula," cried the host, 
 "it is true! — The young chevalier, quotha; 
 the young rogue, vagabond, knave. — Oh, I 
 am ruined, I am undone ! All my money, all 
 my plate!" — -I now perceived a broken cabinet 
 at one corner of the room, and the drawers 
 that belonged to it were thrown out upon
 
 248 
 
 each other : this I considered only as a con- 
 certed trick, to conceal the murder of my 
 brother, and throw the suspicion of the rob- 
 bery on him. Blessed Virgin, how can I 
 describe what I felt at this dreadful moment! 
 words have not weight sufficient for the pur- 
 pose. — I thought I should have sunk into the 
 earth, when I was addressed with all the in- 
 solence that low minds could dictate, and at 
 the same time found myself entirely in the 
 power of those who so cruelly insulted me. 
 To remonstrate was in vain ; and at last I 
 assumed sufficient courage to say, " Why do 
 you use such unbecoming language to me, 
 you who have murdered my brother ? I be- 
 seech you, therefore, to be merciful, and kill 
 me also." " We murdered your brother !" 
 retorted the inn-keeper ; " no, no, we be no 
 murderers ; we be as honest, ay, by my troth, 
 and honester too, than many that wear sur- 
 coats of cendal, and mantles lined with mi- 
 never." Mrs Horteps came into the chamber
 
 249 
 
 soon afterwards, and joined in the accusa- 
 tions ; and her reproaches seemed more bit- 
 ter, because they came from one of my own 
 sex. In short, I became the ridicule of the 
 menial servants, and I know not what gibes 
 and calumnies were not cast upon me. The 
 hostler was sent to see if the horses were in 
 the stable : mine, it seems, was there, but 
 not my brother's ; and this circumstance they 
 declared to be a full proof of his being guilty 
 of the robbery. I was considered as his ac- 
 complice : their contemptuous speeches were 
 now multiplied, embittered with such cruel 
 tauntings as were quite outrageous to the 
 ears of delicacy, besides the addition of many 
 bitter oaths, that made me shudder. An offi- 
 cer of justice was then sent for, and the inn- 
 keeper swore by his Maker, that since one 
 bird was flown, the other should be mewed 
 in the cage ; " We shall then see," quoth he, 
 " how finely silks and sarsenets will shine in 
 a prison." The mention of the word prison,
 
 250 
 
 added to the horrors that already possessed 
 my mind, were too much for it to bear: I 
 fell upon the floor, it seems, deprived of my 
 senses ; for I trust to relation only for what 
 became of me until I recovered my senses. 
 
 " I well remember, when the return of rea- 
 son gave me the power to discriminate the 
 objects around me, I found myself in bed in 
 a dark low room, and an elderly woman was 
 sitting by my side, who I judged to be a 
 votaiy to some religious order, by her dress, 
 and by the large rosary that I saw depending 
 from her girdle. A table was placed at the 
 foot of the bed, upon which there stood seve- 
 ral small vessels, such as are used for the 
 purpose of medicine: all was quite strange 
 to me. I looked round with much surprize; 
 and at last, addressing myself to the lady, I 
 begged her to inform me where I was ? " You 
 are," said she, " under the protection of the 
 convent of ******. It is now twelve hours 
 and upwards since you was brought hither.'*
 
 251 
 
 * And where is my brother ?" said I, anxi- 
 ously. Instead of answering my question, 
 she turned towards the door, and ringing a 
 little bell, another nun presently appeared, 
 to whom she thus addressed herself : " Sister 
 Agnes, the lady is now awake, and sensible ; 
 bring the cordial." She disappeared for a 
 moment, and returned with a small cup in 
 her hand, which she instructed me to take. 
 " My dear lady, you have been dangerously 
 ill ; I am happy to see that your indisposi- 
 tion is taking such a favourable turn : con- 
 valescence will now much depend upon your 
 own conduct. But you must endeavour to 
 compose yourself; the physician, who has 
 attended upon you, strictly forbids your talk- 
 ing. The paroxysms of a violent fever, under 
 which you laboured, are for the present in- 
 deed in some degree subsided, but they are not 
 subdued ; and the least violence of exertion 
 may occasion a relapse." " Alas !" answered 
 I, grasping her hand, and pressing it to my
 
 252 
 
 lips, " say but my brother lives. Oh no !— 
 You turn away from me ; — then all my fears 
 are realized." " Be pacified/' said she, ele- 
 vating her voice ; " you shall know all in 
 proper time : — take this composing draught* 
 Hope for the best ; and give not way to 
 those black melancholy thoughts that pervade 
 your imagination, and obscure the prospect 
 of comfort presented by reason." I blessed 
 her for the ground she gave me to hope that 
 my sorrows might terminate more happily 
 than I expected. I took the medicine, which 
 had the effect it was designed to produce ; 
 for I closed my eyes, and presently fell asleep. 
 For a day or two my enquiries were prevented 
 in the same manner as before : rest and quiet 
 were said to be absolutely necessary for my 
 recovery. But when the symptoms of my 
 fever had left me, and it was judged fit for 
 me to know the extent of my misfortunes, 
 Sister Agnes came to my bed-side, and en- 
 tered into conversation more familiarly with
 
 25S 
 
 me than she had hitherto done ; and in a 
 tender and delicate manner, informed me, by 
 degrees, of all that had happened." 
 
 END OF VOLUME FIRST. 
 
 Edinburgh : 
 Printed by James Ballantyue & Co. 
 
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