To the Gentlemen Readers,
#Health.
Gentlemen, the Horse when hee is first handed to the warres,
starteth at the cracke of euery peece; and euery coucht Launce is a
censure of death to a fresh water Souldier:  So fareth it with mee,
for neuer before being in print I start at the sight of the Presse,
and hauing not dared to looke into the open light, I feared with the
Owle to fly before it be twylight:  yet I haue heard others whose
books haue past your view, account you so fauorable, curteous and
affable, shrouding euery scape with silence; that I presumed the
rather to experience with them the hope of your fauours:  which if
I finde as they haue done, though I bee blinde $Bayard, yet I will in
the thickest of the mire plunge vp to the Saddle for your sakes.
$Virgill afore he wrote his %Aeneidos, wrote his %Culex; and assaide
in trifles, afore he attempted in Triumphs.  $Lucan wrote %Quaedam
%Lirica, before he began with %Bellum %per %Emathios %plusquam %Ciuilia
%campos.  Roome was not builded on a day, and men that venter little,
hazard little:  So gentlemen, I present you with a toy of $Tarltons,
called his newes out of Purgatory: which I desire you accept as
curteously as I offer willing to please:  Though they be %Crepundia
yet reade them, and if you find any pleasant %Facetiae, or %Quicquid
%Salis:  think all sauory, and so pleasde without being satirically
peremptory:  for $Momus will haue a mouth full of inuectiues, and
$Zoilus should not be $Zoilus if hee were not squint eide.  Therefore
leauing their humours to the wordmongers of mallice that like the
Vipers grew odious to their owne kinde, hoping of your curteous
censure, I bid you farewell.
Tarltons
<T Tarltons newesout of Purgatorie.>
Sorrowing as most men doe for the death of $Richard $Tarlton,
in that his particular losse was a generall lament to all that
coueted, either to satisfie their eies with his Clownish gesture, or
their eares with his witty iests.  The wonted desire to see plaies
left me, in that although I sawe as rare showes, and heard as lofty
verse, yet I inioied not those woonted sports that flowed from him
as from a fountain, of pleasing and merry conceits.  For although
he was only superficially seene in learning, hauing no more but a
bare insight into the Latine tongue, yet hee had such a prompt witte,
that he seemed to haue that ((Salem ingenii)), which $Tullie so highly
commends in his Orator.  Well, howsoeuer either naturall, or
artificiall, or both, he was a mad merry companion, desired and
loued of all:  amongst the rest of whose welwishers my selfe being
not the least, after his death I mourned in conceit, and absented my
selfe from all plaies, as wanting that merry $Roscius of Plaiers, that
famozed all Comedies so with his pleasant and extemporall inuention:
yet, at last, as the longest Sommers day hath his night, so this
dumpe had an ende:  and forsooth upon whitson monday last I would
needes to the Theatre to see a play:  where when I came, I founde
such concourse of unruely people, that I thought it better solitary
to walke in the fieldes, then to intermeddle my selfe amongst such
a great presse.  Feeding mine humour with this fancie I stept by
dame $Anne of $Cleeres well, and went by the backside of Hogsdon:
where finding the Sun to bee hot, and seeing a faire tree that had
a coole shade, I sate me downe to take the aire, where after I had
rested me a while I fell a sleepe:  As thus I lay in a slumber, mee
thought I saw one attired in russet with a buttond cap on his head,
a great bagge by his side, and a strong bat in his hand, so
artificially attyred for a Clowne, as I began to call $Tarltons
woonted shape to remembrance, as he drew more neere and hee came
within the compasse of mine eie, to judge it was no other but the
very ghost of $Richard $Tarlton, which pale and wan sate him down by
me on the grasse.  I that knewe him to be dead, at this sodaine sight
fell into a great feare, insomuch that I swet in my sleepe:  which
he perceiuing, with his woonted countenance full of smiles began to
comfort me thus.  What olde acquaintance, a man or a mouse?  Hast
thou not heard me verefie, that a Souldier is a Souldier if he haue
but a blew hose on his head?  Feare not me man, I am but $Dick
$Tarlton that coulde quaint it in the Court, and clowne it on the
stage that had a quart of wine for my friend, and a sword for my
foe:  who hurt none beeing aliue, and will not preiudice any being
dead:  for although thou see me here in the likenes of a spirite,
yet thinke mee to bee one of those %Familiares %Lares that were rather
pleasantly disposed then indued with any hurtfull influence, as $Hob
$Thrust, $Robin $Goodfellowe and such like spirites (as they terme them
of the buttry) famozed in eurie olde wiues Chronicle for their mad
merry pranckes.  Therefore sith my appearance to thee is in
resemblance of a spirite, thinke that I am as pleasant a goblin as
the rest, and will make thee as merry before I part, as euer $Robin
$Goodfellow made the country wenches at their Creame boules.  With
this he drew more neere me and I starting backe cried out: %In %nomine
%Iesu, auoid $Sathan for Ghost thou art none, but a very diuel (for the
soules of them which are departed if the sacred principles of
Theologie bee true) neuer returne into the world againe till the
generall resurrection:  for either are they placst in heauen, from
whence they come not to intangle themselues with other cares, but
sit continually before the seate of the Lambe singing %Alleluia to
the highest, or else they are in hell:  and this is a profound and
certain Aphorisme, %Ab %inferis %nulla %est %redemptio:  vpon these
conclusiue premisses depart from mee $Sathan the resemblance of whom
soeuer thou doest carry.  At this pitching his staffe downe on the
end, and crossing one leg ouer an other, he answered thus:  Why you
horeson dunce, think you to set $Dick $Tarlton %non plus with your
Aphorismes?  No, I haue yet left one chapter of choplodgicke to
tewslite you withall, that were you as good as $George a $Greene I
would not take the foile at your hands: and that is this, I
perceiue by your arguments your inward opinion, and by your wise
discretion what pottage you loue:  I see no sooner a rispe at the
howse end or a Maipole before the doore, but I cry, there is a
paltrie Alehowse:  and as soone as I heare the principles of your
religion, I can say, oh there is a Caluinist:  what doe you make
heauen and hell %Contraria %immediata, so contrarie, that there is no
meane betwixt the, but that either a mans soule must in post hast
goe presently to God, or else with a whirlewind and a vengeance goe
to the diuell?  Yes, yes my good brother, there is %Quoddam %tertium
a third place that all our great grandmothers haue talkt of, that
$Dant hath so learnedly writ of, and that is Purgatorie.  What syr
are we wiser then all our forefathers?  And they not onely feared
that place in life, but found it after their death:  or els was
there much land and annuall pensions giuen in vaine to morrowmasse
priests for dirges, trentals and such like decretals of deuotion,
whereby the soules in Purgatorie were the sooner aduanced into the
quiet estate of heauen.  Nay more, how many Popes and holy Bishops
of Rome, whose Cannons cannot erre, haue taught vs what this
Purgatorie is?  And yet if thou wert so incredulous that thou
wouldest neither beleeue our olde beldames, nor the good Bishops:
yet take $Dicke $Tarlton once for thine Author, who is nowe come from
Purgatorie, and if any vpstart Protestant denie, if thou hast no
place of scripture ready to confirme it, say as $Pithagoras schollers
did %Ipse %dixit and to all bon companions it shall stand for a
principle.  I coulde not but smile at the madde merry doctrine of my
friend $Richard, and therefore taking heart at grasse drawing more
neere him I praied him to tell me what Purgatorie is, and what they
be that are resident there.  As one willing to doe mee such a
fauour, he sate him downe and began thus.
<J Tarltons description of
Purgatorie.>
After thy breath hath left thy body, and thy soule is set
free from this vile prison of earth, where it hath been long
inclosed, then dooth it wander forward into a faire broade way,
where at the tourning of a crosse there are three passages, one on
the right hand, and that is very narrow and leadeth vnto heauen:
The second on the left hand, is broad and faire, ouer a greene vale,
and that conducteth vnto hell:  now betwixt these is there a lane
neither to broade nor to narrow, and that is the hie way to
Purgatory:  wherin after you haue wandered a while, you come to a
bridge, framed all of Needle points and ouer that must you passe bare
footed, as the first penance for your formost offences.  Then sir
to haue a little ease after that sharpe absolution, shall you come
into a faire medow, and that is all ouergrowne with %Aue %maries and
%creedes, this is to put you in remembrance of our Ladies Psalter,
which if you can say a hundreth and fifty times ouer before you
passe the meadow, you escape passing ouer a whole field of hot
burning ploughshares, that day and night lie glowing hot for such
purposes:  after these and many moe of other miseries, which I am
by the law forbidden to vtter, you come to purgatorie gate, where
for an entring penny, you haue fortie lashes with a whip as ill as
euer were given in Bridewell:  then are you admitted entrance.  At
the first you shall come into a very sumptuous hall, richelie hanged
with tapistrie, so fine and so curious, that the most cuttroate
Broaker in England would take the worst of the hangings for a
sufficient pawne:  In this hall shall you see an infinite number of
seates, formed and seated like an Amphitheater:  wherein are
roially, nay more then roially placed all the Popes, except the
first thirty after Christ, and they went presentlie to heauen:  and
the reason was, because Purgatorie was then but a building, and not
fully finished.  In those seates I say the popes sit triumphantlie
with their pontificalibus, and their triple crownes, but yet abiding
paines of purgatorie, aswell as the meanest in all the house,
equally proportioned according to the measure of their sinnes:  some
for false wresting the scriptures, other for ambition, some for
couetousnesse, gluttonie, extortion, symonie, wrath, pride, enuie
many for sloth, and idlenesse:  and some I can tell you haue come
thither for wenching matters, thats counted in Rome but a veniall
sinne, and therfore three dirges and two tapers offered to the
picture of old $Pasquille, is sufficient to wipe away so small an
offence. But amongst all the rest two of them made me to maruell
at the strangnesse of the punishment:  The first was $Boniface the
fourth, and he sat in this order.
He was richly attired in his pontificalibus, and somwhat more
rich then the rest, but vpon his head, in stead of his triple
crowne, he wore a dustie millers cap:  and whereas other Popes held
in their right hand the keyes of heauen, and in the left the sworde
of $Paule, he held betweene both his hands a durtie malkin, such as
Bakers sweepe their Ouens withall, and right ouer his head was
written this old adage in Latin:
%Ne %sutor %vltra %crepidam.
And because thou shalt know the reason why he was thus
punished, marke this merry tale.
<N The tale of Pope $Boniface, and why he wore
a Millers cap, and a malkin in
purgatorie.>
There dwelled somtime in the citie of Rome a Baker, named
$Astasio, who for his honest behauior was well accounted of amongst
his neighbours, insomuch, that what else soueur his bread was baked
after, his loaues neuer past the ballance.  This $Astasio had sundry
prentisses and iourneymen to do his businesse, for he was cheefe
Baker to the popes holinesse:  amongst whome there was one called
$Miles, who was a strong lusty lubber, and one that was as ripe
conceipted for knauerie, as the Miller that ground their meale for
theeuery, and had as many good conditions, as his mistresse had
points of chastitie, and she was thought a vertuous matron: for a
Cardinall lay in her house, to instruct her with holy sentences,
and where such blessed men lie, there can be no lecherie.  Well
$Miles was a mad wagge, and when he had doone his businesse, to
exercise his wits would diuerse times resort to some one or other of
the cloister of Nuns, amongst these merry wenches, to put in
practice the excellencie of his prattle.  He so behaued himselfe,
that if higher fortune had not fallen him, the Nuns of $Santa $Maria
had intreated their abbesse to haue made him their %fac %totum:  but
to his greater dignitie, thus it fell out.  It chaunced that $Pope
$Pius fell sicke, and for that he knew Cardinals were ambitious, and
would flie with $Icarus whatsoeuer befall, to auoide all mutinies
that might insue after his death about the succession of the
Papacie, he called his Cardinals together, and charged them to elect
none Pope, but he that could absolue these three questions.
#1 #What #kinde #of #men #those #bee, #that #GOD #neuer #made.
#2 #What #creatures #those #be, #that #in #sight #are #Carnations,
#in #smell #Roses, #in #hearing #Syrens, #in #touch #Nettles,+
#and #in #taste
#Wormewood.
#3 #And #what #occupations #take #more #paines #about #God #then #the
#Pope.
Upon these the Cardinalls were agreed and went home to their
seueral lodging, leauing $Pius wel contented with their mutuall
consent, and resolued to die, sith he had so well determined of the
succession of the papacye:  to bee briefe, as euery dogge hath his
day, so the Pope had his date, for the next morning hee died.  And
vpon this there was a generall mourning through all Roome, the
Cardinalls wept, the Abbots howled, the Monks rored, the Fryers
cryed, the Nuns puled, the Curtizans lamented, the bels rang, and
the tapers were lighted, that such a blacke %Sanctus was not seene a
long time afore in Rome:  wel to be short, his funerals were
solemnly kept, and his body caried from Castle Angelo to Saint Peters
Church and there intombed.  After his death euery one of the
Cardinals aspiring to the papacie, pondred in his braine the meaning
of these questions but they were not so good schollers that they
could eyther deuide, define, or distinguish vpon them, especially
$Cardinall $Montecelso that lay at the Bakers house, who a long while
had these questions hammering in his head, but to smal purpose,
for the more he sought the farther off he was, which greeued him
full sore:  for the day was come wherein they must giue vp their
verdict, and the synod of the Cardinals appointed to meet.  $Cardinal
$Montecelso ashamd to go, because he was so monstrous a dunce,
knowing that $Myles the bakers man was a fellow of a prompt wit, and
withal so like the Cardinall, as no man possible could discerne the
one from the other, brought it so to passe, that he perswaded $Miles
to go and heare the questions, and to sit in his roabes amongst the
rest of the Cardinals:  promising, if he woon the victory by his
witte he would when he were Pope so labour, that he would make him
a Cardinal.  $Miles that was euer malepert, and more saucy then honest,
vndertook the matter and bluntly ouer his bakers mealye Cassock for
hast put on the Cardinals habit, and went very solemnly to saint
Peters church:  where the rest of the holy brotherhood sate, taking
his place amongest them as $Montecelso had directed him.  When thus
they were all gathered together, the eldest of the fraternity laide
open vnto then that now by the death of $Pius the papacy stood ((sede
vacante)):  yet by the good direction of his holines in his life time
to auoide further controuersie in the Church, he had left a meane
to know who should be next successor in the see, and thereupon he
propounded three questions, which began at the eldest, and so
%gradatim went downeward:  sundry men gaue sundry verdictes, at last
it came to $Cardinall $Montecelso, who was yongest, to yeeld his
reason, which if it were not probable and plausible, the Synode must
deuise some other meanes to know the successor:  for the questions
were so darke that amongst the rest they were as inscrutable
%Aenigmaes.  Well to $Miles at last came the matter to bee made
manifest, who very demurely in his scarlet roabes and his graue
bonnet, began thus:  My Lords and fellow brethren in this dignitie,
nowe is the text fulfilled:  The last shall be first and the first
shall be last:  For I that am youngest in yeres, am like to be eldest
in iudgement, and being last in degree, am like to be first in
dignity.  Therefore you foolish dunces thus to absolue these three
questions.
#What #kinde #of #men #be #those #that #God
#neuer #made.
I tell you they be Popes, Cardinals, Abbots, Monks, and
Priests:  for none of all these did God euer make:  and thus I proue
it.  The Creator, both according to the principles of Philosophie
and Theology, is greater then the Creature, and it is impossible
that the maker should bee formed or fashioned by the thing made; as
a pot to make a Potter: is it not then as repugnant to reason that
God should make a Priest, when the Priest euery day in his masse
maketh God?  and so is he the creator and God the creature:  therefore
brethren the Priest is the man that God neuer made, because wee our
selues knowe that the Priest is Gods maker.  To this they all
applauded and said:  he had spoken as much as $Pius meant.  Now quoth
hee to the second question.
#What #creatures #those #be, #that #in #sight #are
#Carnations, #in #smell #Roses, #in #hearing #Syrens
#in #touching #Nettles, #and #in #tast #Wormewood.
Thus I answere:  they be (my masters quoth he) these kinde
of cattle that we couet so much to keepe, and these be women:  for
he that sees a gallant wench, which wee Italians terme %Bona %Roba,
with a faire face flourisht ouer with a vermillion blush, shee seemes
to his eie as beautifull as a Carnation:  and hir breath that is as
sweete and odoriferous as a Rose:  he that listens to hir words,
shall finde them as pleasant and medlodious as the Syren, and as full
of flattery as $Cyrces:  so that hee that will auoide there wiles,
must with $Vlisses tie himselfe to the mast, or els venture on there
dangerous shelues:  in touching they be nettles, for they sting to
the quicke:  and in tast whosoeuer tries them, shall finde them as
bitter in the ende as wormewood.  When $Miles had discourst this,
they thought $Sphinx himselfe could not haue yeelded a better reason,
and therefore our gentleman Baker went on to the third thus boldly:
And nowe master, quoth hee, to the last.
#What #occupations #take #more #paines #about #God
#then #the #pope.
Marry quoth $Myles, there be three, the Ploughman, the Miller
and the baker:  and thus I proue it: The ploughman he takes paines
to dresse his field, to sow his corne, and in haruest with toile to
reepe, in winter to threshe it out with the sweate of his brows.
Then it is conueyed from him to the Miller and he bestiers him selfe
to set his stones in frame to grind it: next it is transported to
the Baker, and he boults it and sifts the bran from the flower, and
with great paines makes it into a fine Cake and bakes it, last it
is brought to the Pope, and he when he is at masse saies but %hoc %est
%corpus %meum, and it is God: he spends but a litle fewe wast words
about it, whereas the other three labor long ere they bring it to
perfection:  therefore these three take more paines about God then
the pope.  One of the old Cardinals hearing this, wondring at his
wit began to repeate ouer the names of the ploughswaine, the Miller
and the baker:  $Myles hearing him name the Baker, tooke straight
Pepper in the nose and starting vpp threw of his Cardinals roabes,
standing in his dustie Cassocke, swore:  I by cockesbread the Baker,
and he that sayes to the contrary, here stand I $Myles the Bakers man
to haue the prowdest Cardinall of you al by the ears.  The Cardinals
all this while thinking it had ben $Montecelso and now seeing it was
$Myles the Bakers man, to sooth vp the matter and cloake their owne
ignorance made him Pope and called him in steade of $Myles, $Boniface:
where he soone forgat being a Priest that euer he was a Clarke:  in
so much that on a day passing to Saint peters Church, his maister
$Astasio, met him, and amongst the rest did his holynesse great
reuerence, but $Myles now that was Pope, coulde not loke so low as a
poore baker, which his maister espying, as he came by said that the
Pope might heare, %Non %fuit %sic %a %principio:  No Knave quoth he, but
thou shalt heare sang anon; %Sic %erit %in %secula %seculorum %Amen. +
Thus
went the Bakers man in solempe procession to Saint Peters church,
and there after his instalment hard masse, and so departed home to
Castle Angelo.  And for that he was aduancst from a Bakers trough to
the papacie, and after grewe so proud and insolent, that he would
not know his old master:  he sits in a Millers dustie Cappe and a
Bakers malking:  To signifie, the former pride of his life.
Next him sat $Hildebrand, and he held a red Hering in his hand,
because he made lent:  and one Pope sat with a smock sleeue about his
necke, and that was he that made the imbering weekes; in honore of
his faire and beatifull curtizan $Imbra.
<J Popes>
A litle beyond sat $Alexander, who was forcst to make cleane
rustie Armor, that like $Sisiphus stone had no end:  for as fast as
he scowred, the cancker stil fretted that he did:  %In %caucasum %saxum
%voluere:  and this was because he was a better soldier then a
Scholler.  Hard by him was $Iulius, that vpon the bridge threw
S. $Peters keyes into Tiber, and toke him to the sword of $Paul:
infinit other sundry offences:  but such a multitude were plagued
for wenching, that of them al there was not one scapt free for that
fault.  But $Vrbane the second, that was instalde Pope in the morning
and was poysoned before dinner, and yet the question, whether, if
hee had lyued that night, his lemon and he had not bidden penaunce
in purgatorie for their sinnes.  Thus when I saw all these statelye
fellowes, as I was redy to go out of the hall, I spied sitting in a
corner a bare faced youth, wel featured, of a liuely countenaunce,
and a sweete looke, in Poopes attire:  but on hir head in stead
of a myter shee had a kercher, and in hir hand a distaffe:  I
thought it had beene $Hercules that was found playing the wanton so
with $Omphale, or $Sardanapalus amongst his Curtisans.  But at last I
spied it was a Pope, or had been a Pope:  But whether man or woman,
or what it was I could not tell, till I spied written ouer his head
in great Caracters this stile:
%Papa, %Pater, %Parens %Patriae, %Prope %Portas %Petri, %Pauli
%Paruum %Peperit %Puerum.
Then I perceiued it was $Pope $Ioane that honest woman, that as
shee went a procession through the #Lateran was brought to bed in the
streetes. I smilde at hir attire, and left hir to hir punishment.
Passing from thence I went into a lower Roome, and there were all
kings and princes, and men of name, which for that I might slander
their royall titles, I omitte with silence.  But thus they were all
punished according to their offences, no more spared for their
wealth then the porre for their pouerty; unlesse they died highly
in the popes fauour; and perhaps there was some indulgence to
mittigate their punishment.  I left them, and anon I came into a
baser roome all full of Monkes and Friars, what sinnes I saw there
figured forth I am ashamed to rehearse, onely $Friar $Onyon the holy
Confessour of #Florence, hee sate there naked, all annointed with
hony and miserably tormented with waspes.  The cause of his
punishment I learned to be this.
<N The tale of $Friar $Onyon, why in purgatorie
he was tormented with waspes.>
There dwelled a widow in #Florence of good parentage, and
large possessions, more beautifull then she was wealthie, and yet
she was the richest widow in al Florence, hir name was $Lisetta, the
onely faulte that was found in hir was, that hir beautie was more
then hir wit, and that such a selfloue of hir excellencie had made
hir ouerweene hir selfe, that she thought none fit to bee hir husband
in all Florence.  Thus though she were lookde at for hir outward
perfection, yet was she laughde at for hir inward follies.  Well
howsoeuer others censured of her, she thought her peny better siluer
then the rest, and would so striue to excell other Gentlewomen in
the nicenesse of gesture, that oftimes she marde all:  in so much
that hir coy quaintnesse was a byword in the citie.  Euery weeke
forsooth, because she would seeme as vertuous as she was faire, she
devoutly went to $Friar $Onion, to be confessed of hir sins:  the
Priest, who was a lustie lubber, and a tall swaine, and nurst vp
lust with idlenesse;  began to looke vpon hir more narrowlie, and to
take a particular view of hir perfections; with that entring with a
piercing insight into hir selfeloue; thought, that she might quickly
be ouerreacht in hir owne conceipts:  for he thought, that if the
wisest women were woone with faire praises, and large promises, it
were more easie to intrap hir with the discourse of her excellencie.
Therefore he laid his plot thus:  the next time $Lisetta came to
shrift, after she had made her confession, and receiued
absolution for hir sinnes, $Friar $Onyon looking earnestlie vpon hir,
fetcht a far sigh and said:  Ah Madam] if you knew as much as I know;
as your are the fairest, so you would thinke your selfe the happiest
of all women that are aliue.  And why syr I pray you, quoth
$Lisetta?  Ah said $friar $Onyon:  it is such a secret as may not be
reuealed:  for if I should disclose it to you, and you by any meanes
make it manifest, there were no way with me but a most miserable
death.  $Lisetta, as all women be desirous of noueltie, was so greedie
to heare what good was toward hir, that she made a thousand
protestations, and vttered a thousand oathes, neuer to bewray what
her ghostly father should tell her in secret.  Then Madam, quoth
$Friar $Onyon, with a graue and a demure countenance, know your beautie
is so excellent, and your perfection so farre beyond the common
course of all other women, that not onely all men that see you,
admire you as a miracle:  but the very Angels in heauen are enamored
of your proportion.  The Angels, quoth she, is that possible?  The
angels, madam, and not the meanest but the most beautifull of all
the rest:  for the $Angell $Gabriel is so far in loue with you, that
the other night he appeared vnto me, and charged me to do his
earnest commendations vnto you, with promise, that if hee might be
assured of your secrecie, he would at conuenient times visit you,
and interteine you with such loue as befitteth such holy spirits.
This tale so set affire $Lisetta, that she not onely thanked
$Friar $Onyon for his commendations; but counted her selfe the most
fortunate of all women, that she was beloued of so blessed a Saint
and therefore when and where it pleased him, he should be intertained
with as honourable secrecie, as a poore dame of her calling might
afford.  $Friar $Onyon seeing this geere would worke, prosecuted his
purpose then subtilly:  he presently fell downe on his knees before
hir, and desired, that for such happie newes as he had brought, she
would graunt him a boone.  $Lisetta liberall now to performe any
demaund, bad him aske.  Then he began thus:  Madam, quoth he, for
that the $Angell $Gabriell is a spirit, and his brightnesse such, as
no mortall eye can suffer, and therefore must come vnto you in
some humane shape, I pray you vouchsafe, that my bodie may be the
receptacle for him, that while he putteth on my carcasse, by soule
may enioy the sight and pleasures of paradise:  so shall you not
hinder your selfe, and do me an vnspeakeable benefit.  $Lisetta
seeing $Friar $Onyon was a lusty tall fellow, willing in what she
might, to pleasure him, graunted his request verie willinglie:
wherevpon it was concluded, that she should leaue the dore open,
and about midnight the $Angel $Gabriell should come to visit hir.
Vpon this resolution home went $Lisetta, as merry as a pie, tricking
vp hir bedchamber with all brauerie, and rich perfumes for the
interteinment of hir paramour.  And $Friar $Onyon, as busie as a bee,
was making his winges and his trinckets ready to play the Angell:
well, he delt so, that he agreed with an old pandor that dwelt
opposite to the house, and there made himselfe ready, and at the
houre appointed went to $Lisetta:  where he found the doore open, and
so entred vp till hee came to her bedchamber; where she sat
expecting his comming:  assoone as she sawe him with his glorious
wings and his white roabes, she rose, and fell at his feet:  but he
louingly tooke her vp, inbracst hir, kist her, and pointed to the
bed, whether the Angell went after he had laid apart his abiliments,
and $Lisetta followed with as much speed as might be:  %Caetera %quis
%nescit.  Early before breake of the day, $Gabriell tooke his leaue of
his $Lisetta, and went to his lodging, leauing hir the proudest woman
in the world, that shee was beloued of an Angell.  $Friar $Onyon hee
got him to his cell, and there tooke vppe his broaken sleepe hee had
lost till nine of the clocke, that he went into his Oratorie:  where
hee had not sytten long, but $Lisetta in as great brauerie as might,
came to the church, and then offerd vp in greater deuotion a burning
taper to the $Angell $Gabriell:  afterwards hir orisons done she came
to $fryar $Onyon, who after some conference demaunded hir of hir new
louer, whom shee highly commended, and he againe gaue hir great
thanks, that shee vouchsaft him to be the receptacle of so holy a
Saint:  for all the while his bodie was with hir, his soule did tast
the Ioyes of paradice.  These two thus agreed, it so fell out that
sundry times as occasion and oportunity would giue leaue, the $Angell
$Gabriel visited $Lisetta:  The Fryar thus frolicke in this conceited
content was thwarted by fortune on this manner:  $Lisetta waxing very
proud with the remembrance of hir new louer, was so coy and
disdainefull, as she thought neuer a dame in Florence fit for hir
company:  insomuch that many wondred why shee grewe so insolent.
But the more they maruailed, the more she was malapert, conceiuing
such abundance of selfloue within hir stomacke, that shee was with
childe till shee had vttered hir minde to some of hir gossips:  on
a day sitting with one in whom shee had most affiance, shee beganne
to require secrecy, and shee would vnfold vnto hir a thing not onely
strange but of great import.  Hir gossip as the custome is, began
to blame those wiues whose secrets lay at their tongues end, and
saide, shee was neuer toucht with any staine of hir tongue:  and
therefore what soeuer shee told hir, should bee buried vnder foote
and goe no further.  Vpon this $Lysetta began to rehearse vnto hir
from point to point, the whole discourse of the $Angell $Gabriell,
howe hee was in loue with hir, and sundry nights he lay with hir,
and many more matters which he told hir of the ioyes of Paradise.
Hir gossip being a wily wench kept hir countenance very demurely,
commending the excellencie of hir beauty, that did not onely amaze
men, but drew euen Angels to be inamoured of hir:  promising to be
as secrete in this matter as hir selfe.  Shee thought the time long
till they might breake off talke, and therefore as soone as shee
could finde opportunity, shee tooke hir leaue, and hied hir homeward:
but to hir house shee coulde not goe, till shee had met with two or
three of hir gossips; to whom in a great laughter shee vnfolded
what madam $Lysetta had told hir, how shee was beloued of the $Angell
$Gabriell, and how sundry nights he lay with hir, and tould her of
the ioyes of Paradice.  This was worke enough for nine daies, for
the woonder of $Madame $Lisettas barne went through all Florence:  so
that at last it came to the eares of $Lisettas friends, who greeued
that such a clamor should be raised of their kinswoman:  knowing
hir follie, thought to watch neere, but they would take the $Angell
$Gabriell and clip his winges from flying.  Well secret they kept it,
and made as though they had not hard of it, yet kept they such
diligent watch, that they knew the night when the Angell would
descend to visit $Lisetta:  wherevpon they beset the house round,
and assoone as $Friar $Onyon was in, and had put off his wings, and
was gone to bed, the rushing in of the watch wakened him from his
rest, and that with such a vengeance, that trusting more to his
feete then to this fethers, hee left $madam $Lisetta amazed at the
noise:  and he himselfe was so sharpely beset and so neere taken,
that he was faine to leape out of a hie garret windowe, and so
almost breake his neck, into a little narrow lane.  Well his best
ioint scape, but he was sore brused:  yet feare made him forget
his fall, that away hee ran to a pore mans house where he saw
light, and there got in, making an excuse how he had fallen among
theeues; and so desired lodging.
The man hauing heard talke of the $Angell $Gabriell, knowing
verie well $Friar $Onyon that knew not him, let him haue lodging verie
willinglie, but all this while that he escapt, were $Lisettas friends
seeking for the saint, that so tenderlie loued their kinswoman:
but they could not finde him, and to heauen he was not flowne, for
they had found his wings:  sorry they were that $Gabriell had mist
them.  But they chid harde, and rebuked the follie of $Lisettas
selfeloue, that was not onely so credulous, but such a blab as to
reueale hir owne secrets:  it was late, and because they had mist
of their purpose they departed, leauing $Lisetta a sorrowfull woman,
that she was so deceiued by the $Angell $Gabriell.  Well night passed,
and the morning came, and this poore $friar $Onyons hoast tould
him, that he knew not how to shift him:  for there was that day a
great search for one $Friar $Onyon that had escapde naked from
$Lisettas house, and who so kept him in secret should haue his eares
naild on the pillorie:  at this the Friar started and said:  Alas
friend I am the man:  and if by any meanes thou canst conuay me to
the Dortor of our Friory, I will giue thee fortie Duckats.  If you
will, quoth his hoast, follow my counsaile, feare not, I will conuey
you thither safe and vnknowne, and thus.  This day there is great
shewes made before the Duke of #Florence, and strange sights to be
seene, and diuerse wilde men disguised in strange attire are brought
into the market place:  now I will dresse you in some strange order,
and with a maske ouer your face, lead you amongst the rest, and when
the shew is doone, carrying you as though I should carrie you home,
I will conueight you into the Dortor backside secret and vnknowne.
Although this seemed hard to the friar, yet of two euils the least
was to be chosen, and he consented to suffer what the hoast would
deuise.  Wherevpon he that was of a pleasant conceipt vsed him thus:
he annointed him ouer with barme mixed with hony, and stuck him full
of feathers, and tying him by the neck with a chaine, put a visor
on his face, and on either side tide a great ban Dogge, in this
%come %equipage marched this porre man with the Friar.  He was no
sooner come into the open streete, but the people hauing neuer seene
such a sight before in #Florence, did not onely wonder at the
strangenesse of his dressing; but maruailed what this nouelty should
meane:  wherevpon an infinit number not onely of the common sort,
but of the grauest citizens followed, to see what should be the end
of this woonder.
With a solemne pace marched his keeper, till he came to the
market place, where tying him to a great piller that stoode there
he them let make in all places of the citie solemne proclamation,
that who so would see the $Angell $Gabriell, should presently come
to the market place, and behould him there in that amorous diginite
that he did vsually visit the Dames of #Florence:  at this
proclamation there was a generall concourse of people, especially of
the better sort that had hard of $Lisettas loues:  so that the duke
himselfe came thither, and amongst the rest $Lisettas kinsmen.  When
all the market place was full of people, the hoast pulled the visor
from the Friars face:  at which the people gaue a great shoute,
clapping their hands, and crying, the $Angell $Gabriell, the $Angell
$Gabriell, he that comes from heauen, to make vs weare hornes.  I need
not I hope intreate your to beleeue, that poore $Friar $Onyon was
heauily perlexed, especially when the day grew hot, he  naked and
anointed with hony, so that all the waspes in the citie, as it were
by a miracle, left the Grocers shops, and came to visit the Friar,
because his skin was so sweete:  but alas to the poore mans paines,
that he was almost stoong to death.  Diuers of his couent came
thither to see the strange apparition of the Angell, who when they
saw he was $Friar $Onyon:  then they couered their shauen crownes with
their cooles, and went home with a flea in their eares.  Thus all
day stood the poore Friar woondered at of all the people of #Florence,
and tormented with waspes, and at night fetcht home to the Dortor
by some of his brothers:  he was clapt in prison, where for sorrow
poore $Gabriell died:  and because he did so dishonor the other
Friars, he bydes this torment in purgatorie.
<J people of all trades>
The discourse of the Fryar thus past, I viewed them all that
were Churchmen:  and after went into a lower roome, where there was
a medley of all manner of people of all trades, sciences, and
occupations, assigned to such sundry torments, as mans eye would
almost surfet with the varietie of obiects, euen the very broome men
were there for robbing of the broome closes betweene Barking and
London.  And hard by them was there a place empty formed thus:  It
was made like the shape of Tibourne threesquare, and all painted about
with halters, and hard by stood two tall fellowes with carters whips
so stearnely looking, as if with euery lashe they would cut a man to
the bones:  there was written ouer the place a great romaine B.  I
could not learne for whom this torment was prouided, for that so
many men, so many censures:  some said it was for one $Boniface which
should be Pope, and should proue a great persecutor:  others, that
$Bonner should be brought from his place among the prelates, and be
whipt there for breeching of $Bartlet $Greene naked in his garden:  but
the most voyces went, that it was for $Bul the hangman, because at
his whipping in London the carters shewed him too much fauour.  Well
for whomsoeuer it is, God blesse me from it, for he is like to be
well belaboured with two lustie knaues.  Looking still about, I saw
three men seated as it were in thrones higher then the rest, with
three shields hanging by them, hauing impreses and mottoes.  I
stayed and gazed my fill vpon them:  for they had no punishment, but
were as prisoners detayned in purgatorie, but with a preheminence;
for which soeuer of the Ghosts passed by gaue them a knee with a
reuerence.  I maruailed what they should be, and one tould me it
was the three degrees of Cuckholds; with that I smilde, and lookde
more narrowly vpon them.  I spide written ouer the firsts head this
short sentence, #One and #One.  Ouer the second, #None and #one:  ouer
the third #One and #none.  This was to me a darke #Aenigma, that I
wished some #Sphinx to vnfoulde the secret, at last one stept to me
and told me the whole matter thus.
<N The tale of the three Cuckolds, of their impreses
and mottoes.>
These three men, my friend quoth the ghost, when they liued
were three famous men, and yet Cuckoldes, as by their attier thou
maiest perceiue:  but different in degree, nature and condition.
Hee which sits highest, ouer whose head thous seest is written, #One
and #One, had a beautifull dame to his wife, faire and well featured;
yet a great deal more full of beauty then of honesty:  but howsoeuer
qualified, a good wench shee was, and one that was not such a
niggard but shee could keepe a corner for a friend:  to be brief,
shee would beare a man false at tables, and hir husband that loued
Irish well, thought it no ill tricke to beare a man too many:  he
saw to it and knew very well, that his wife loued another as well as
himselfe:  yet hee loued hir so, that he would not discontent hir,
but suffered hir to haue hir longing and to feede hir owne fancie,
and like a wittold winkt at it, and therefore worthy to weare the
horne.  Thus while he liued the dishonour of his life was shame
enough for his leudness, and nowe after his death because he was so
kind a man, they haue plast him there without any punishment, because
it was penance enough to haue his conscience prickt with a restles
sting of baudry.  And here they haue made him a gentleman, and in
his Scutchion haue giuen him a Ram rampant, with a mighty paire of
hornes hanging ouer his eies:  to signifie, if it be rightly emblasde,
that he had such a great head, that looking through his hornes he
did see and not see, shocking on with heauy palmes as belwether to
the rest, his #Motto is stolne out of $Tully
%Non %Solum %pro %nobis.
meaning, that as we are not borne for our selues, but for our
Country, so he did not marry a wife for himselfe, but for his
neighbors:  this was the kinde opinion of this graue wittold.
The second, ouer whose head is written, #None and #One, was a
man of an honest and vertuous disposition, who hauing a faire wife,
that though shee coulde not treade right, yet wrincht hir shooe
inward; that was a secret as shee was false; and though shee could
not liue %Caste yet shee liued %Caute:  he neuer suspected hir; but
as he was honestly minded towards hir, and kept himselfe to the wife
of his bosome, so measured hir foote after his own last, and thought
none in the world to haue a more chast wife, although indeed none
had a more lasciuious wanton.  This poore man was none in his owne
conceit, yet was one indeede:  and therefore is he placst here
without any torture:  for that it is plague enough for him that he
had a whore to his wife.  Hee is likewise made a gentleman and giues
Armes the Goate, which by imblasure signifies, that as the Goate
carries his hornes behinde, so hauing hornes because they were not
apparant on his forehead, thought he had none, and yet carried a
faire paire backward like the Gote, his #Motto is:
%Crede %quod %habes %et %Habes.
Meaning, that a mans content stands as his beleeuing is; so that if
a man in his owne conscience thinkes he hath a faire wife, it
sufficeth, what soeuer proofe makes manifest to others.
The third, ouer whose head is written, #One and #None, is a man
that hath a woman of surpassing beauty to his wife, excellent and
rare in properties, and euery way as vertuous in honest perfection,
a woman as faire as $Helen and as chaste as $Lucrece:  yet forsooth,
because his wife is more faire then the common sort, and therefore
more gazde on for that wheresoeuer shee goes, many mens eies wait
vpon hir and diuers lasciuious youth attempt to frequent hir
company; yet shee that is wholy resolued vpon vertue hath the
tortueis vnder hir feet and gads not abroad; but keeping home auoids
all occasions of dishonor:  yet for al these manifest instances of
hir honesty, the eie of hir husband fiered with suspition so inflames
his hart with iealousie, as there is none looks on his wife, but he
thinks he comes to court hir, and shee glaunces hir eie on one but
straight shee loues him:  if shee smile, it is to thinke how hir
loue and shee shall meet; if shee lower, it is because she hath not
seen him to day:  thus liuing doth he lead a hellish life in the
labirinth of Jealousie, and therefore is he placst heere without
punishment in Purgatorie, because there can be no greater torment
then to bee plagued with the restlesse sting of Jealousie.  He is as
the rest are, made a gentleman, his arms the Asse, with a maruellous
paire of long and large eares.  The emblason this, that as the Asse
for the length of his eares thinks them to be hornes, and yet indeed
are but a plain paire of eares:  so he life an Asse because he hath
a faire wife, thinks that %Per %Consequens he must be a Cuckold, when
indeed he is none, and so supposeth his eares to be hornes:  his
#Motto is,
%Ne %mulieri %credas, %ne %mortua %quidem.
Meaning, that what faire shewe soeuer a woman dooth beare of
honestie, yet there is no credits to be giuen vnto hir coynesse:
but he resolues with the crue of the yellow hosde companions, that
%Mulier, howsoeuer it be spoken or vnderstoode, is a word of
vnconstancie:  therefore though he hath no hornes, because his wife
is too honest, yet like an Asse for his Jealousie, hee shall haue
a long paire of eares whiles he liues.
Thus was the order of these Cuckolds discourst vnto me, which
assoone as I heard I went on further to spie any worth the noting.
<J Archgossip>
Much I saw that were friuolous to rehearse, as diuers women that were
hangd vp by the tongues for scolding, and especially one Botchers
wife of Sudbury, who was so famous for that Art (if wee may tearme
it a science) that after hir death, shee was chronicled amongst the
successiue scoldes hir neighbours for an Archgossip in the faculty:
for hir husband being a poore painefull man that liued by his daily
labour, came home euery night and brought hir duely and duetifully
his groate, which could not content hir, but shee would in braue
tearmes abuse him, and call him rascall and slaue; but aboue all,
prickelowse, which hee coulde not abide:  wherefore hauing often
forbad hir, and seeing shee would take no warning:  on a day tooke
heart at grasse, and belabourd hir well in a cudgill:  but all would
not suffice:  the more he beat hir, the more she cald him prickelowse.
seeing stripes would not preuaile, he threatned to cut out hir
tongue:  It is not matter for that knaue quoth shee, yet shall the
stumpe call thee pricklowse:  At this answere the poor Botcher was
so mad, that taking a rope and tying it about hir middle, hauing a
well in his yarde, and thereunto he let her downe into the well,
and threatned to drowne hir:  tush all would not preuaile, but she
cried more vehementlie:  wherefore hee duckt her ouer head and eares,
and then when her toong could not wag, she heaued hir hands about
water, and knack with hir two nailes of hir thombes:  then seeing
nothing would preuaile but death, he drew hir vp and left hir to hir
villanie:  she aboue the rest was tormented.  A little below hir I
saw a Cooke that was a mad merry fellow, and he sate demurely with
a Cranes leg in his mouth, hauing no other punishment, at this I
smilde and asked the cause, and it was told me thus.
<N The tale of the Cooke, and why he sate in
Purgatory with a Cranes leg in his mouth.>
There dwelled in #Venice a Gentleman called $Signor $Bartolo,
who being one of the #Consiliadorie, and greatlie experienced in the
ciuill law, was much frequented of sundry sutors, amongst the rest
there was a gentleman his neighbour, that by fortune had caught
some eight or ten Cranes, a fowle in high esteeme in the Citie:
these as a thing of great price hee bestowed on $Signor $Bartolo, who
accepted them with that gratefulnes, that so good and bountiful a
gift merited.  Proude forsooth of this present he fadde them vp in
one of his yardes, looking with great care to them, because the
#Venetians hold them so rare.  On a day desirous to make his
neighbours partakers of his dainties, he had diuers of them to
Supper, and commanded his Cooke to priuide good cheere, and amongst
the rest, chargde him to kill a Crane, and to see that it were
excellently well rosted.  The Cooke, whose name was $Stephano, made
all things in a readines for Supper, and when the time was
conuenient, laide the Crane to the fire.  Now syr this $Stephano was
a fellowe that was somewhat amorous, and excellent at courting of a
Country wench; insomuch that he was the chief gallant of all the
parish for dancing of a Lincolneshire hornepipe in the Churchyard on
sondaies:  being thus well qualified, he was generally loued of al
the gyrles thereabout, and especially of one in the towne, whom he
had so long dallied withall, that the maide fell sicke, and hir
disease was thought to be a Timpany with two heeles:  wel howsoeuer
shee was spedde, and $Stephano had done the deede.  This maide hearing
what a great feast should be at $signor $Bartoloes house, hied hir
thither, not onely to see the good cheere:  but that shee must feede
hir eie with the sight of hir $Stephano, who not was ruffling and
sweating in the kitchin; she made an excuse and came in for fier, but
in an vnluckly time for the poore Cooke:  for shee no sooner sawe the
Crane but she longd for a leg, and that so sore, that there was
nothing but that or death:  whereupon shee calde $Stephano to hir,
and told him that shee must needes haue a legge of the Crane:  for
shee so deeply longd for it, that if shee had it not, it were able
both to cast hir away and that shee went withall.  Although poore
$Stephano alledgde many excuses, as the displeasure of his
Maister, and the feare of the losse of his seruice:  yet no reason
could preuaile with hir, who was without reason:  and therfore what
for loue hee bare hir, and for dread of discredite that might ensue,
if for want of hir longing shee shoulde fall to trauell, hee ventred
a ioint, and when the Crane was enought cut hir off a legge. His
wench thus satisfied went home:  And Supper time grew on, for all the
guests were come, and presently because it was somewhat late, sate
downe:  where they were serued very bountifully, at last the dainties
the Crane forsooth, was brought vp, and $signor $Bartolo commaunded
the Carver to truncke hir, which when he had done, shee was set vpon
the table:  the gentleman of the house fell to distributing to his
guests, and at last mist a legge, with that looking about he calde
the Carver, and askt him where the other leg was:  Syr quoth hee,
your Maistership hath all the Cooke sent vp:  Then quoth $Bartolo goe
to the Cooke, and aske him where the other leg is:  the Carver went
down and did his Maisters commande; the Cooke thinking to face out
the matter, began to smile:  Why quoth he, we may see Cranes are
dainty in this Country, when gentlemen cannot tell how many legs
they haue?  goe tell my Maister I sent him vp as many legges as shee
had.  The fellow brought this newes to his Maister, who in a great
chafe called for the Cooke, and asked of him howe many legs a Crane
had:  Marry syr quoth he, one:  Why malapert villeine quoth $Bartolo,
mockest thou me before all these gentlemen?  Not I syr quoth the
Cooke:  For I am sure I haue drest many in my life:  and hitherto
yet I neuer saw a Crane haue but one leg.  With this answer $Bartolo
was throughly inflamed with choller, but that he would shew himselfe
to be patient amongst his neighbours, he suppressed his anger with
this mild reply:  Either, gentlemen, you may thinke I or my Cooke is
drunke, that hold a dispute about a Cranes legge:  but for that this
night I will not bee impatient, I passe it ouer:  but to morrow
morning all as you are heere, I humbly request you to take so much
paines as to rise betimes, and to be Judges betweene me and my man,
whether Cranes haue two legs or no:  for I haue nine Cranes more,
wee will early goe into the yarde where they feede:  and this shall
be the wager betweene my man and me, if they haue but one leg, I will
giue him twenty Duckats and a sute of Satten:  if they haue two, hee
shall haue twenty blowes with a cudgill, and I will turne him quite
out of seruice:  With this motion the Cooke seemed very wel
contented, that all the guests smilde to see poore $Stephano so
obstinate:  vpon this matter they began to descant and fell into
pleasant chat, and so passed away the supper time:  at last,
although loth to depart, yet euery man departed with great thanks to
$Signior $Bartolo for their good cheere, promising, very early in the
morning to be with him.  Where we leaue them, and againe to the
Cooke, who prouided al his trinckets in a readines, to trudge away
with bag and baggage the next morning:  for he knewe his matter was
nought; thus with a heauy hart he passed away the night, and in the
morning fell in a slumber:  but hee had not long lien in his dreame,
but $Bartolo accompanied with his neighbors knockt at his mans
chamber, gaue his maister and the rest the Bon Ioure:  Come syrha
quoth his maister, heere are the gentlemen my neighbours come to be
equal censores of our controuersie:  hold, take the key of the yard,
and open you the doore, and then let vs see how many legs a Crane
hath:  the Cooke took the key and very easily opened the dore, and
entred in, and all the Cranes, because it was so early, were at
strud; as their custome is generally all stoode vpon one leg, and
held the other vnder their wing.  $Stephano seeing the advantage, not
willing to let so fair a ball fall to the ground, began himselfe:
Now syr (quoth he) I hope your selfe and the rest of the gentlemen
will confesse I haue woonne the wager:  for you see heere is neuer a
Crane that hath more then one legge.  At this seeing how nimble he
was to take the aduantage, they all laught:  Truth syr quoth his
Maister, they stand now on one leg, but straight you shall see me
make them all haue two:  with that Signor Bartolo lifting vp his
hande cried, So ho; and with that the Cranes let downe their legges,
and euery one stoode vpon two:  How now you knaue quoth his Maister,
how many legges hath a Crane?  hath shee not two?  Yes marry syr
quoth hee, and so would your other Crane haue had, if you had done
this:  for if your worship when you had seene the Crane in the platter
had but one legge, had as lowde as you doe now, cried, So ho, why
then shee woulde haue had two legges as well as these:  At this iest,
$Signor $Bartolo fell into such a laughing and all his guests with him,
that hee laught away choller, and admitted his man into his woonted
fauour:  whereupon $Stephano tolde them the whole discourse, what
happened betweene him and his wench, and vppon this merrily they
went all to breakefast.  Now Syr, although this fault was forgiuen:
yet because hee died not in fauour with the Priest of the Parish,
hee was appointed for stealing the Cranes Leg to stand in Purgatorie
with a legge in his mouth for a certaine season.
After I had heard this discourse of the Cooke, I went on
further to see if I coulde percieue any other such Iestes as might
make mee merry in so melancholicke a place, at last, as I cast mine
eie aside, I sawe where a poore Vickar sate with a Coale in his
mouth.  I askde the reason why he was appointed to such punishment,
and it was answered me thus.
<N The tale of the Vickar of Bergamo, and why he
sits with a coale in his mouth.>
in purgatorie.
There dwelled sometime in #Bergamo a vickar that was welbeloued in
the towne, for that he was a boone companion, and would not stick to
play at trumpe all day with his parishoners for a pot or two of Ale,
a faire reader he was, and pleased the people well, marry for his
learning that was little, and toongs he had no more then were in his
mouth:  neither would hee trouble himself with the knowledge of many
languages, but applied his idle time vpon good fellowship.  It
chaunced that his score growing very great, and much chalke vpon the
post, his hostesse wanting money to pay the Maltman, waxed hastie
with the vickar for hir debt, hee being then bare of pence, because
his quarterage was not come in, tould hir she could not haue it as
yet, wherevpon they grew to words, and from wordes to blowes, for
masse Vickar went away with a broken head, which driude him into
such a choller that he sought al meanes how to reuenge, and he laid
his plot thus.  Euery sunday morning afore masse all the youth of
the parish did accustome to come to the Alehouse to eate hot
puddings, which was great profit to the goodwife:  now to preuent
hir of this commoditie, the Vickar spake against it, and forbad it
openly:  yet it was not so deepely inueighed against, but that
diuerse Sundaies they would make a steale thither to breakefast:
and one Sundaye amongst the rest, the whole crew being gathered
together, notice was giuen to the vickar:  wherevpon he hied him
thither, and found them all hard at it by the teeth:  when they sawe
masse vickar come in, euery man rose vp and ranne away to shift for
himselfe, the hostesse she whipt in with hir puddings; so that there
was none left in the house but Maister vickar:  who spying a doozen
of lustie large black puddings hangde in the Chimney, whipt them
into his wide sleeue, and went his way:  he was no sooner gone, but
the good wife comming out mist hir puddings, and little suspected the
Vickar, but thought some of hir guests had caried them away:
whervpon she tould it to hir husband, who let the matter passe
lightly, and wisht his wife to make hir hastily ready, that they
might go to masse:  on goes she with hir holiday partlet, and
spoonging hir selfe vp, went with hir husband to Church, and came
iust to the seruice:  wel maister Vickar who was in a great chafe,
mumbled vp his mattins, and after seruice was doone very stoutly
got him into the pulpit, and began to fall to his collation, his
text was vpon the Gospell for that daye, which he so coursde and
canuasde ouer that hee fell at last to talke of the breakefast:  Oh
neighbours quoth hee, as I came this daye to Churchward, I came into
a house, nay into an Alehouse, where I found a crew at breakefast
before Masse, at a bloudie breakefast, a blacke breakefast, yea
neighbours the Deuils breakefast; and with that he threw his arms
about him with such violence, that his wide sleeue untied, the
puddings fell out, and hit an old wife on the head that she fell
ouer againe:  the hostesse seeing hir doozen of puddings that she
mist, cried out to hir husband:  Oh man, quoth she, thers the
doozen of Puddings that were gone out of the Chimney; hie thee
least they bee gone:  at this there was such a laughing, and such a
rumor, that the poore Vickar was faine to leaue of his collation,
and come downe to answer what the Alewife obiected against him: but
he was so welbeloued in the parish, that the Alewife was punished,
and hir Sonday breakefasts put downe by a common consent of the
Churchwardens.  The Vickar thus well reuengde of the Alewife,
indeuoured how make amends to his parish, and therefore casting
in his head how he might bring it to passe; one day as he trauelled
towards #Pisa he met a stranger, who had certaine feathers in his
hand of a byrd called %Apis %Indica, which were long and large, of
the colour of golde, and were so bright as scarse one could looke
against them:  such before were neuer seene in #Italie.  Masse Vickar
assoone as hee saw these, had a reach in his head, and iumpt with
the trauailer to buie one, a prise was pitcht for thirtie #Iulios,
and Masse Vickar paide it:  hauing this, home he came, and bought a
case of crimsin Veluet imbrodred with gold, to put his feather in,
keeping it with great curiositie and secrecie, making report that he
had one of the richest reliques in the worlde, and promising vpon
Candlemas day next to shew it:  wherevpon it was not onely blazed
abroad throughout the towne, but in all the villages and hamlets
adioyning, that both olde and yoong prepared themselues to see this
holie relique.  Two of the crew, who were brothers at the breakefast
of Puddings, hearing these newes sought how to be euen with maister
Vickar:  and therefore brought it so to passe by a wenche of the
house where the Vickar lay, that they might see the holie relique;
she brought them to the chamber and the box wherein the case lay
perfume, the fellow looking in, and seeing a feather, neither
respecting reason, nor religion, tooke it out and put it in his
bosome, and fild the case full of charcoales that lay by, and so
putting the case into the box, kist the wench and went his waye.
Seruice time being come, maister vicar runs vp for his box, claps
it vnder his arme, and away he goes to Church:  and for that it was
Candlemas day, a high day, he sayd and soong a very solemne Masse;
and that being doone, seeing such a multitude of people, he got him
with a great grace into the pulpit, and began his text, which after
he had ratled ouer a little, he told them what sundry reliques were
left to the Church for the benefit of the people:  Oh my maisters
and good friends quoth he, parishioners and neighbours:  You see
that euery city heer about, nay through the whole world, hath some
holy relique or other, as a blessing belonging to their corporation:
but our poore towne of #Bergamo hath had none:  But now God hath
considered of your estate, and hath sent you a richer and more
holy then all the rest.  Some towne, quoth hee, hath a peece of
the crosse, or of the nailes, or a peece of the spoong, the recht
Christ Vineger; at Roome there is the speare that piercst his syde;
at #Venice the #Chawbone of $saint $Marke, good for the falling euil;
at Vienna the tooth of $S. $Appolym wholesome for the toothake; at
Pysa the hoofe of $Saint $Loyes horse that healeth such kinde of
cattell; for the Swine $Saint $Anthonies bell; for the pose, $Saint
$Dunstones tonges; for the Squinsey, $Saint $Martins trough; for
the eye sight $Saint $Winifrids girdle; for the Palsie $Saint $Asaphs
Beads, and a thousand more, which are now needlesse to rehearse:
but good people, I haue heere for your comfort one of the
feathers; yea one of those holy and glorious feathers, that the
$Angell $Gabriell wore when he saide ((Aue Maria)) to the mother of
Christ:  olde wiues, and aged men, yea ritch and poore kneele
downe, and with ioy behold so great a myracle; with that they
all fell vpon their knees, and he puld foorth his box, and drew
foorth the case, which when he hard rattle, he maruelled:  but when
he put his hand in, and found nothing but coales, his heart was cold
in his belly, and he swet for woe:  yet hauing a knauish and a ready
wit, he sodainly and vpon the present shifted it thus.  Good people,
quoth he, I haue mist of my box, and I haue left the wing of the
$Angell $Gabriell behind me:  but I haue here a relique no lesse
precious then that, which I thought not to shew you before Easter
day, and these be the coales the $Saint $Lawrence the holy #Martyr was
broild with, and with that he drew the Charcoale out of his poake:
these, parishioners quoth he, euen the very marke that is made with
these, is good against all euill spirits, against blasting and
witchcraft; and therefore seeing it is the will of God I should
shew you these first, I will come downe and marke you all with the
holy relique of $Saint $Lawrence; so he stept downe out of the
pulpit, and crost them all to his great profit, and their content:
for which cause in that he mockt the people, he is appointed to
stand in purgatorie witha coale in his mouth.
<J Maides>
The vickars tale of #Bergamo being ended, I went further, and
presently I espyed a little doore, whereout issued a most fearefull
noise tempered with such far fetcht sighes and greeuous shrikes,
that it was a sound much to be pitied:  the smalenesse of the voice
discouered that they were women.  Wherevpon I pressed more neere
the doore, and looked in at a little chinke, and there I might see a
company of beautifull women of all ages pitifull tormented, as
fitting in a place full of smoake and stincking sauors, and bitten
continually about the hearts with scorpions:  in all there were not
aboue three of them, and yet they vttered as greeuous laments as
though there had beene a thousand. I demaunded why these were
punished aboue the rest; they said, they were such as died maides
and kept their virginitie without spots, that hated men; and for
that they were so hard harted, they were adiudged to that sharpe
punishment.  Straight as I cast mine eye vp, I spide in a blind
corner where a Painter sat, hauing, the picture of a roode hung before
him, and euery time he looked vpon it, he had three bastanados ouer
the shoulders with a belroape;  as of the rest, so I inquirde the
cause of this, and it was discourst to me thus.
<N The tale of the Painter of Doncaster, and why in
purgatorie he was beaten with a Belroape.>
I know you are not ignorant, how in $king $Edward the sixts dayes all
popery and superstition was banished, and the light of the Gospell
puld from vnder the Bushell where it was couered, and to the sight
and comfort of all set vpon a hill:  so that all his reliques
were abolished, and his idols puld downe, and the Church as neere
as they could, cleansed form the dregs of such an Antichrist:
wherevpon the Painters that liude with such trash, as trimming of
shrines and roodes, altars and Saints, and the caruers that made
such images, were faine with $Alexander the Coppersmith to crie out
against $Paule and his doctrine, hauing so little worke that they
almost forgot their occupation.  But when for the sinnes of this
land, and wickednesse of the people, the Lord tooke away their good king,
 and depriued them of the sweete #Manna of the Gospell, and sent
them againe Antichrist with all his traditions; $Queen $Marie,
lawfull successor in the kingdome, made proclamation, that all those
roodes which were puld downe, should be set vp againe in euery
Church.  Amongst the rest, the Church of Doncaster in Yorkeshire,
desiring to be one of the formost, to signifie their obedience and
deuotion, in all hast sent for the Painter to make them a roode, and
agreed vpon the price.  Wherevpon he went about his worke, but for
that his hand had beene out of vse by the space of six yeeres, he
had forgot the lineaments of the visage, and the other woonted
proportion, that he made it very hard fauourde; yet as euery mans
worke seemes well to himselfe, he went forward withall, and set it
vp on a satterday at night on the Roodloft:  on sunday at masse there
was old ringing of Bels, and old and yoong came to church to see the
new roode,which was so ill faourde, that all the parish mislikt
it and the children they cried and were afraid of it:  vpon this
they fell in greate displeasure with the painter, and when monday
came, and he was with the cheefe of the parish for his money, they
denyed flatly to pay him any, bacause his worke was so ill wrought.
He vpon that cald them before the maior of the towne, who was a man
that fauored $king $Edwards religion, as far as he durst, and to him
the painter made his complaint, that the parishoners now that hee
had made their roode, would not pay him his money:  The Maior
demaunded of them why they denide him paiment:  they answered, for
that he had like a bungler made Christ so hard fauored, that it was
not only vnfit to stand in any church, but their children were
afraid to looke on it:  so that euery way it should greatly hinder
deuotion.  But yet quoth the maior, the poore man hath done his
goodwil, you must consider his hand hath bin long out of vse, and
therfore there is no reason though his cunning hath failde him, but
you should pay him his mony:  Well syr quoth they, at your request
we will giue him what our bargaine was:  but we must buie a new rood,
and cannot tell what to do with the old:  Marry neighbors quoth the
Maior, if he wil not serue you for a god, follow my aduise, clap a
paire of hornes on his head, and I warrant you hee wll prooue an
excellent good deuill:  And that sir, quoth the painter, will I doe
ouer and beside their bargaine.  Thus were the poore parishioners of
Doncaster mockt, and yet paid their money:  but their Vickar so delt
with bell, booke, and candle against the poore painter for making
the ill fauoured roode, that he sits in purgatorie beaten with a
Belroape.
<J Ronsard>
The tale of the Painter being ended, passing a little
further, I might see where sat a crew of men that woare Baie garlands
on theyr heads, and they were Poets, amongst which was ould $Ennius,
$Virgill, $Iuuenall, $Propertius, and wanton $Ovid, $Martiall, $Horace,
and many moe:  which had written lasciuious verse, or other heroicall
poems.  But aboue them all I marked ould $Ronsard, and he sat there
with a scroule in his hand, wherin was written the description of
$Cassandra his Mistresse, and because his stile is not common, nor
haue I heard our English Poets write in that vaine, marke it, and
I will rehearse it, for I haue learnd it by heart.
$RONSARDS DESCRIPTION OF
his Mistresse, which he weares in his
hand in Purgatorie.
Downe I sat,
I sat downe,
where $Flora had bestowed hir graces:
Greene it was,
It was greene
Far surpassing other places,
For art and nature did combine
With sights to witch the gasers eyne.
There I sat,
I sat there
viewing of this pride of places:
Straight I saw,
I saw straight
the sweetest faire of all faire faces:
Such a face as did containe,
Heuens shine in euery vaine.
I did looke,
Looke did I,
and there I saw $Appollos wyers,
Bright they were,
They were bright,
with them $Auroras head he tiers,
But this I woondred how that now
They shadowed in $Cassandras brow.
Still I gazde,
I gazde still,
spying $Lunas milk white glase:
Comixt fine,
Fine comixt,
with the mornings ruddie blase:
This white and red their seating seekes
Vpon $Cassandraes smiling cheekes.
Two stars then,
Then two stars,
passing Sunne or Moone in shine
Appearde there,
There appearde
and were forsooth my Mistres eine:
From whence prowde $Cupid threw his fiers
To set a flame all mens desiers.
Brests shee had,
Shee had brests
white like the siluer doue;
Lie there did,
There did lie
$Cupid ouergrowne with loue,
and in the vale that parts the plaine
Pitcht his tent there to remaine.
This was shee,
Shee was this
the fairest faire that ere I see;
I did muse,
Muse did I
how such a creature found could be;
A voice replied from the Aire,
Shee alone and none so faire.
This was $Ronsards description of his Mistres, and he is
forcst to hold it in his hande, that euery time hee casts his eies
on it, he may with sighs feel a secret torment, in that he once
loued too much being aliue.  A little aboue sate the ghost of a
yong gentlewoman that had beene false to hir husband, shee shoulde
haue beene grieuously tormented:  but that shee bestowed an annuity
for three yeares pension vpon a morrow masse priest, who so laboured
it with dirges, trentals and masses %Ad %requiem, that shee had no
other punishment but this, that hir beautifull haire wherein shee
so much delighted, and whose tramels was a traine to intrappe young
gentlemen, that nowe was clipt off bare to the scull, and so shee
sate ashamde and mourning:  The cause as I learnde was this.
<N Why the gentlewoman of Lions sate with hir haire
clipt off in Purgatorie.>
In the Citie of Lions there dwelt a gentleman of good account
amongst his neighbors, called $Monsieur $Perow; this gentleman hauing
lands and reuenues sufficient to maintaine his estate, thought fully
to heape to himselfe content, and therefore sought out a yong virgin
of equall parentage to himselfe, with whom he had a sufficient dowry,
and hir he loued, and shee likte him, and so they maried, liuing in
good estimation amongst their Tenants.  As they were thus linked
together in wedlocke, so it seemde in outward appearance that they
were so strictly tied in affection, as no meanes might alienate.
But women, whom nature hath framde to be inconstant, cannot be
altred by nurture.  The Palme will growe straight though it bee
neuer so depressed; and a wanton will bee a wanton, were shee
married to $Cupid, and so it proude by $Marie; for so was the
gentlewomans name:  who because shee was faire had many Sutors, that
attempted to bee riuals with hir husband in hir loue; amongst the
rest as shee resolued to choose one, ther was a yong amorous youth
of #Lions calde $Pier, he sought diuers meanes to creepe into hir
fauor, past by hir house, and cast vp looks that pleaded for pitty,
and had banded him again glances the foreshewed good will:  Thus
with interchange of fauors they liued.  $Pier seeking opporutnity how
to reueale his minde to $Marie, at last as hee walked one day forth
the towne, he saw where shee was walking only with one of hir maides,
taking therefore oportunity by the forehead he stept to hir, and
beganne to court hir with sundry protestations of his loue, which
had been long and so surely set as no dispaire coulde race out,
promising not onely to be a faithfull seruant in constancie:  but to
bee so carefull of hir honour as of his owne life:  And for your
grauitie, think Mistres quoth he, that faults in affections are
sleight follies, that $Venus hath shrines to shade hir trewants, and
$Cupids wings are shelters for such as venter far to content their
thoughts; vnseene is halfe pardoned, and loue requires not chastity,
but that hir Souldiers be chary.  $Maria hearing the wag thus play
the Orator, hauing loue in hir eies and desire in heart, after a
fewe faint denials, thrusting him away with the little finger, and
pulling him to hir with the whole hande, shee graunted him that
fauour to be cald hir seruant.  Gracde thus he grewe in such credite,
that there was no man with $Maria but $Pier.  Hauing thus a loue
beside hir husband, although hee was a faire man and well featured;
yet shee found fault with him, because he was a meacocke and a
milkesoppe, not daring to drawe his sworde to reuenge hir wrongs:
wherefore shee resolued to entertaine some Souldier, and so shee
did:  for one $Signor $Lamberto a braue Gentleman; but some thing
harde facde, sought hir fauour and founde it, and him shee
intertained for hir Champion.
Thus had shee a white liuerd $Adon to feede hir eie with
beauty, and a stoute $Hercules to reuenge all hir wrongs with his
sworde, and a poore husband to shadowe both with his hornes.
Liuing thus contentedly in hir owne conceite, hir husband went into
the Country to a Farme of his, and thither with him hee carried his
wife, where hee passed away many merry daies in such pleasure, as
Country sports can affoord:  at last serious affairs forcing him to
it, he rid his way for three or foure daies to certaine of his
friends there adioning.  $Maira seeing hir husband gone thought not
to let time slippe, nor to lose oportunity:  and therefore the next
day after sent for $Pier, who hasted as fast as might be, till he
came to his Mistres, where he had such friendly intertainement as
fitted both their humours; shee caused hir maide to make great
cheere, and assoone as it was ready, to dinner they went, where they
were scarce set but one knocked at the doore.  The maide looked out
and it was $Signor $Lamberto, shee ran and told hir Mistres; who
fearefull that he should see $Pier or know of him, hid him vnder the
bed, and commanded hir maide to bid $Signor $Lamberto come vp:  shee
like a cunning Curtizan giuing him such fauourable intertainement as
though hee were the man whom aboue all other shee made account off.
Faith sweete (quoth hee) I heard they husband was from home, and so
I tooke my nag and came gallopping hither:  Set him into the stable
quoth the Mistres:  No quoth ($Signor $Lamberto) let him bee there
still and bite of the bridle, for my business is such, as I will onely
dine with you, and then bid you farewell:  with that he sate him
downe to dinner.  Poore $Pier lying close vnder the bed; thinking
euery minute an houre till he were gone:  as thus they sate in their
cuppes and were wantonly quaffing one to another; came in the maide
running, and said, hir Maister came riding:  at this $Signor $Lamberto
started vp and was amazed:  but the gentlewoman was in a feare that had
two louers at once in hir house, and yet could haue hidden them both
had it not beene for the horse that stoode tied in the Court yarde:
well a shift must bee had, and where sooner then out of a womans
head?  What shall I doe quoth $Signor $Lamberto?  Marry I pray you
good sweet heart quoth shee, to saue your owne credite and mine,
drawe your sworde and goe downe the staires, and as you goe,
sweare and say, that you shall finde a time and place more
conuenient, when you will be reuengde to the vttermost; so he did,
and by that time was the gentleman of the house come in, who
maruailed to see a horse tied in the Court, and therefore alighting
off came vp the staires, and as he came, met $Lamberto with his
sworde drawne, and his face full of frownes, swearing, when fitter
time and place shoulde serue hee woulde reuenge and that with
extremitie.  What is the matter quoth the Master of the house?  He
answerd nothing, but put vp his sword, tooke horse and away towards
Lions.  Assoone as the gentleman came vp, he found his wife amazde,
sitting in the hall in the middest of the flowre, as halfe beside
hir selfe:  What is the matter wife (quoth hee) that thou art so
amazed, and that $Signor $Lamberto went downe with his sworde drawne
in such a rage?  Ah husband (quoth shee) as I sate heere at my worke,
came running into the court yarde a proper young man hauing throwne
away his Cloake and his Hatte, and desired mee, as I tendered the
state of a man, to saue his life, for $Signor $Lamberto would kill
him:  I pittying his case stept in and hidde him in my bedchamber:
with that came $Signor $Lamberto gallopping, dismounted in the court
and drawing his sworde, came running vp and woulde haue broken open
my chamber dore, but that on my knees I intreated him to the
contrary:  at my request hee went his way, frowning as you see, and
so hee is rode to #Lions:  the poore young man (alas) husband lies
hidde vnder the bed in great feare:  And this tale shee tolde so
lowde that $Pier heard euery worde, and therefore had his lesson what
hee should answere:  smyling at the prompt witte of his Mistres that
had so sodaine a shift.  Bidde him come out wife quoth he:  then
shee oapt the doore, and $Pier he came as one greatly affrighted from
vnder the bedde.  The gentleman seeing him a proper young man and
weaponlesse, had pittie on him and saide:  hee was glad that his
house was a sanctuary for him, and greatly commended his wife that
shee had saued him from the fury of $Signor $Lamberto, whom all #Lions
accounted a most desperate man:  vpon this taking $Pier by the hand
they sate downe to dinner, and when they had taken their repast, the
gentleman very curteously conducted $Pier home to #Lions.  Now for
because shee was thus inconstant, shee to qualifie hir pride and
insolencie, sate in Purgatory with the punishment afore rehearsed.
This tale beeing ended, I lookde a little further, and I might
see where a young man and a young woman sate together naked from the
middle vpward, and a very olde man whipping of them with nettles:
they as persons that little regarded his punishment, woulde often
times kisse, and the olde man as one inwardly vexed, woulde
bestirre all his strength to torment them:  the reason of this
strange shewe was thus discourst unto mee.
<N The tale of the two Louers of Pisa, and why
they were whipt in Purgatory with
nettles.>
In #Pisa a famous cittie of #Italie, there liued a gentleman
of good linage and landes, feared as well for his wealth as honoured
for his vertue; but indeede well thought on for both:  yet the better
for his riches.  This Gentleman had one onely Daughter called
$Margaret, who for hir beauty was liked of all and desired of many;
but neither might their sutes, nor hir owne eie preuaile about hir
fathers resolution, who was determined not to marry hir, but to such
a man as should be able in abundance to maintaine the excellencie of
hir beautie.  Diuers young gentlemen proffered large feoffments,
but in vaine:  a maide she must bee still till at last an olde
Doctor in the towne that professed Phisicke, became a sutor to hir,
who was a welcome man to hir father, in that he was one of the
welthiest men in all #Pisa.  A tall stripling he was and a proper
youth, his age about foure score, his head as white as milke,
wherein for offence sake there was left neuer a tooth:  but it is no
matter, what he wanted in person he had in the purse, which the
poore gentlewoman little regarded, wishing rather to tie hir selfe
to one that might fit hir content, though they liued meanely, then
to him with all the wealth in #Italie.  But shee was young and forcst
to follow hir fathers direction, who vpon large couenants was
content his daughter should marry with the Doctor, and whether shee
likt him or no, the match was made vp, and in short time shee was
married.  The poore wench was bound to the stake, and had not onely
an olde impotent man:  but one that was so iealous, as none might
enter into his house without suspition, nor shee doe anything
without blame:  the least glance, the smallest countenance, any
smile was a manifest instance to him, that shee thought of others
better then himselfe:  thus he himselfe liued in a hell and tormented
his wife in as ill perplexitie.  At last it chaunced, that a young
Gentlemen of the Cittie comming by hir house, and seeing hir looke
out at hir windowe, noting hir rare and excellent proportion, fell
in loue with hir, and that so extreamely, as his passions had no
meanes till hir fauour might mittigate his heartsicke discontent.
The young man that was ignorant in amorous matters and had neuer
beene vsed to Court anie Gentlewoman, thought to reueale his passions
to some one friend, that might giue him counsaile for the winning
of hir loue, and thinking experience was the surest Maister, on a
day seeing the olde Doctor walking in the Churche that was $Margarets
husbande, little knowing who he was, he thought this the fittest
man to whom he might discouer his passions, for that hee was olde and
knewe much, and was a Phisition that with his drugges might helpe
him forward in his purposes:  so that seeing the olde man walke
solitary hee ioind vnto him, and after a curteous #salute, tolde him
that he was to impart a matter of great import vnto him; wherein if
hee woulde not onely be secrete, but indeuour to pleasure him, his
paines should bee euery way to the full considered.  You must
imagine gentleman, quoth $Mutio, for so was the Doctors name, that
men of our profession are no blabs, but hold their secrets in their
hearts bottome, and therfore reueale what you please, it shall not
onely be concealed; but cured, if either my Art or counsail my do
it.  Vpon this $Lionel, so was the yong gentleman called, tolde and
discourst vnto him from point to point howe he was fallen in loue
with a gentlewoman that was maried to one of his profession,
discouered hir dwelling and the house, and for that hee was
vnacquainted with the woman, and a man little experienced in loue
matters, he required his fauour to further him with his aduise.
$Mutio at this motion was stung to the heart, knowing it was his wife
hee was fallen in loue withall:  yet to conceale the matter and to
experience his wives chastity, and that if shee plaid false he might
be reuengde on them both; he dissembled the matter and answered,
that hee knewe the woman very well, and commended hir highly; but
said, shee had a Churle to hir husband:  and therefore he thought
shee woulde be the more tractable:  Trie hir man quoth hee, faint
heart neuer woonne faire Ladie:  and if shee will not be brought to
the bent of your bowe, I will prouide such a potion as shall
dispatch all to your owne content, and to giue you further
instructions for oportunitie, know that hir husband is forth euery
after noone from three till sixe.  Thus farre I haue aduised you,
because I pitty your passions as my selfe being once a louer:  but
now I charge thee reueale it to none whomsoeuer, least it doo
disparage by credit to meddle in amorous matters.  The yoong
Gentleman not onely promised al carefull secrecie, but gaue him
harty thanks for his good counsell, promising to meete him there the
next day, and tell him what newes.  Then hee left the old man, who
was almost mad for feare his wife any way should play false:  he
saw by experience, braue men came to besiege the castle, and seeing
it was in a woman custodie and had so weake a gouernor as himselfe,
he doubted it would in time be deliuered vp, which feare made him
almost frantike:  yet he driude of the time in great torment, til he
might heare from his riual.  $Lionello he hasts him home and sutes
him in his brauery, and goes downe towards the house of $Mutio, where
he sees hir at the window, whome he courted with a passionate looke
with such an humble #salute, as she might perceiue how the Gentleman
was affectionate.  $Margareta looking earnestly vpon him, and noting
the perfection of his proportion, accompted him in hir eye the
flower of all #Pisa,  thinkte hir selfe fortunate, if she might haue
him for hir freend, to supply those defaults that she found in $Mutio:
Sundry times that afternoone he past by hir window, and he cast not
vp more louing lookes them he receiued gratious fauoures:  which did
so incourage him, that the next day betweene three and sixe hee went
to hir house, and knocking at the doore, desire to speake with the
Mistres of the house, who hearing by hir maids description, what he
was, commaunded him to come in, where she intertained him with all
curtesie.
The youth that neuer before had giuen the attempt to court
a Ladie, began his %exordium with a blush:  and yet went forward so
well, that he discourst vnto hir howe hee loued hir, and that if it
might please hir so to accept of his seruice, as of a friend euer
vowde in all dutie to bee at hir commaunde, the care of hir honour
should bee deerer to him than his life, and he would be ready to
prise hir discontent with his bloude at all times.
The Gentlewoman was a little coye, but before they past they
concluded, that the next day at foure of the clock he should come
thither and eate a pounde of cheries, which was resolued on with a
%succado %des %labres, and so with a loath to depart they tooke their
leaues.  $Lionello as ioyfull a man as might be, hyed him to the
church to meete his ould Doctor, where he found him in his ould walke:
What newes syr quoth $Mutio?  how haue you sped?  Euen as I can wish
quoth $Lionello. For I haue beene with my Mistresse, and haue found
hir so tractable, that I hope to make the old peasaunt hir husband
looke broad headed by a paire of browantlers.  How deepe this
stroake into $Mutios heart, let them imagine that can coniecture
what ielousie is; in so much that the ould Doctor askt when should
be the time:  Marry quoth Lionello, to morrow at foure of the clock
in the afternoone, and then Maister Doctor quoth hee, will I dub the
ould Squire knight of the forked order.
Thus they past on in chat till it grew late, and then
$Lionello went home to his lodging, and $Mutio to his house, couering
all his sorrowes with a merry countenance, with full resolution to
reuenge them both the next day with extremitie.  He past the night
as patientlye as he could, and the next day after dinner away he
went, watching when it should bee foure of the clocke.  At the houre
iust came $Lionello, and was intertained with all curtesie:  but
scarce had they kist, ere the maide cryed out to hir Mistresse that
hir Maister was at the doore:  for he hasted, knowing that a horne
was but a little while on grafting:  $Margaret at this alarum was
amazed, and yet for a shift chopt $Lionello into a great drie fat full
of feathers, and sat hir downe close to hir worke:  by that came
$Mutio in blowing, and as though hee came to looke somewhat in hast,
called for the keyes of his Chambers, and looked in euery place,
searching so narrowlie in euery corner of the house, that he left
not the verie priuie vnsearcht:  seeing he could not finde him, hee
said nothing, but fayning himselfe not well at ease staide at home,
so that poore $Lionello was faine to staie in the drie fatte till the
ould churle was in bed with his wife; and them the maid let him out
at a backdoore, who went home with a flea in his eare to his lodging.
Well the next day he went againe to meete his Doctor, whome
hee found in his woonted walke.  What newes quoth $Mutio?  how haue
you sped?  A pox of the ould salue quoth $Lionello, I was no sooner
in, and had giuen my mistresse one kisse, but the iealous asse was
at the doore, the maide spied him and cryed hir Maister:  so that
the poore Gentlewoman for verye shift, was faine to put me in a
drie-fatte of feathers that stood in an ould Chamber, and there I
was faine to tarrie while he was in bed and a sleepe; and then the
maide let me out and I departed.
But it is no matter, twas but a chaunce, and I hope to crie
quittance with him ere it be long:  As how quoth $Mutio?  Marry thus,
quoth $Lionello:  she sent me worde by hir Maide this day, that vpon
thursday next the oulde Churle suppeth with a patient of his a mile
out of #Pisa, and then I feare not but to quitte him for all:  It is
well quoth $Mutio:  Fortune bee your freend:  I thanke you quoth
$Lionello, and so after a little more prattle they departed.
To bee shorte, Thursdaye came, and about sixe of the Clocke
foorth goes $Mutio, no further then a friends house of his, from
whence hee might descrie who went into his house.  Straight hee sawe
$Lionello enter in; and after goes hee, insomuch that hee was
scarselie sitten downe, before the Maide cryed out againe:  My
maister comes:  the goodwife that before had prouided for afterclaps,
had found out a priuie place betweene two seelings of a plauncher,
and there she thrust $Lionello; and hir husband came sweting.  What
news, quoth she, driues you home againe so soone husband?  Marrye
sweete wife quoth he, a fearefull dreame that I had this night which
came to my remembrance, and that was this:  me thought there was a
villeine that came secretly into my house with a naked poinard in
his hand, and hid himselfe:  but I could not find the place.  With
that mine nose bled, and I came backe; and by the grace of God I
will seeke euery corner in the house for the quiet of my minde.
Marry I pray you doo husband, quoth she:  with that he lockt in all
the doores, and began to search euery chamber, euery hole, euery
chest, euery tub, the very well, he stabd euery fetherbed through,
and made hauock like a mad man, which made him thinke all was in
vaine, and began to blame his eies that thought they saw that
which they did not:  vpon this he rest halfe lunatike, and all night
he was very wakefull, that towards the morning he fell into a dead
sleepe, and then was $Lionello conueighed away.
In the morning when $Mutio wakened, hee thought how by no
meanes hee should be able to take $Lionello tardy; yet he laid in
his head a most dangerous plot, and that was this:  Wife quoth he,
I must the next munday ride to #Vycensa to visit an ould patient of
mine, till my returne, which will be some ten dayes, I will haue
thee stay at our little graunge house in the countrey:  Marry very
well content, husband, quoth she:  with that he kist hir, and was
very pleasant, as though he had suspected nothing, and away he
flings to the Church:  where hee meetes $Lionello:  What sir quoth
he what newes, is your mistresse yours in possession?  No a plague
of the old slaue quoth he; I thinke he is either a witch or els
workes by Magick:  for I can no sooner enter in the doores but he
is at my backe, and so he was againe yesternight:  for I was not
warme in my seate before the maide cried, my maister comes; and then
was the poore soule faine to conueigh me between two seelings of a
chamber in a fit place for the purpose:  where I laught hartely to
my self, to see how he sought euery corner, ransackt euery tub, and
stabd euery featherbed; but in vaine, I was safe enough till the
morning, and then when he was fast a sleepe, I lept out.  Fortune
frownes on you quoth $Mutio:  I but I hope quoth $Lionello this is the
last time; and now she will begin to smile:  for on monday next he
rides to Vicensa, and his wife lies at a graunge house a little of
the towne, and there in his absence I will reuenge all forepassed
misfortunes:  God send it to be so quoth $Mutio, and so tooke his
leaue.  These two louers longd for monday, and at last it came.
Early in the morning $Mutio horst himselfe, and his wife, his maide,
and a man, and no more, and away he rides to his grange house;
where after he had broke his fast he tooke his leaue, and away
towards #Vicensa.  He rode not far ere by a false way he returned
into a thicket, and there with a company of countrie peasants lay
in an ambuscado to take the yoong Gentleman:  In the afternoone
comes $Lionello galloping, and assoone as he came within sight of
the house, he sent backe his horse by his boy, and went easily a
foot, and there at the very entry was enterteind by $Margaret,
who led him vp the staires, and conuaid him into hir bedchamber
saying he was welcome into so meane a cottage:  But quoth she, now
I hope fortune shal not enuie the purity of our loues.  Alas
alas mistresse cried the maid, heer is my maister, and #100. men
with him, with bils and staues:  We are betraid quoth $Lionello,
and I am but a dead man:  Feare no quoth she, but follow me,
and straight she carried him downe into a low parlor, where stood
an ould rotten chest full of writings.  She put him into that, and
couered him with ould papers and euydences, and went to the gate
to meete hir husband:  Why $signor $Mutio, what meanes this hurly
burly quoth she?  Vile and shamelesse strumpet as thou art, thou
shalt know by and by quoth he.  Where is they loue?  all we haue
watcht him and seene him enter in:  now quoth he, shall neither
thy tub of feathers, nor thy seeling serue, for perish he shall with
fire, or els fall into my hands.  Doe thy worst iealous foole quoth
shee, I aske thee no fauour:  with that in a rage he beset the
house round, and then set fire on it.  Oh in what a perplexitie was
poore $Lionello that was shut in a Chest, and the fire about his
eares?  and how was $Margaret passionate that knew hir louer in such
danger?  yet shee made light of the matter, and as one in a rage
called hir maide to hir, and said:  Come on wench, seeing thy Master
mad with iealousie hath set the house and al my liuing on fire, I
wil be reuengd vpon him, helpe me here to lift this olde Chest where
all his writings and deeds are, let that burne first, and assoone as
I see that on fire I wil walke towards my friends:  for the olde
foole will be beggard and I will refuse him.  $Mutio that knew al
his obligations and statutes lay there puld hir backe, and bad two
of his men carry the Chest into the field, and see it were safe,
himself standing by and seeing his house burnd downe sticke and
stone.  Then quieted in his minde he went home with his wife, and
began to flatter hir, thinking assuredly that he had burnd hir
Paramour; causing his Chest to be carried in a Cart to his house at
#Pisa.  $Margaret impatient went to hir mothers, and complainde to
hir and to hir brethren of the iealousie of hir husband:  who
maintained it to bee true, and desired but a daies respite to
prooue it:  well hee was bidden to supper the next night at hir
mothers, shee thinking to make hir daughter and him friends againe.
In the meane time he to his woonted walke in the Church, and there
%praeter %expectationem he found $Lionello walking:  wondring at this,
hee straight enquires what newes?  What newes Maister Doctor quoth
he, and  he fell in a great laughing; in faith yesterday I scapt a
scowring:  for syrha I went to the grange house, where I was
appointed to come, and I was no sooner gotten vp by the Chamber, but
the magicall villeine hir husband beset the house with bils and
staues, and that he might be sure no seeling nor corner should
shrowde me, hee set the house on fire:  and so burnt it downe to
the ground.  Why quoth $Mutio and how did you escape?  Alas quoth he,
well fare a womans wit, she conueighed me into an ould chest ful of
writings, which she knew hir husband durst not burne, and so was I
saued and brought to #Pysa, and yesternight by hir maide let home to
my lodging.  This quoth he, is the pleasantest iest that euer I
heard:  and vpon this I haue a sute to you, I am this night bidden
foorth to supper, you shall be my guest, onely I will craue so much
fauour, as after supper for a pleasant sporte, to make relation what
successe you haue had in your loues.  For that I will no sticke
quoth he, and so he caried $Lionello to his mother in lawes house
with him, and discouered to his wiues brethren who he was, and how
at supper he would disclose the whole matter:  for quoth he, he
knowes not that I am $Margarets husband:  at this all the brethren
bad him welcome, and so did the mother to, and $Margaret she was kept
out of sight.  Supper time being come, they fell to their victuals,
and $Lionello was carrowst vnto by $Mutio, who was very pleasant to
draw him to a merry humor, that he might to the full discourse the
affect and fortunes of his loue.  Supper being ended, $Mutio
requested him to tell to the Gentlemen, what had hapned betweene
him and his mistresse.  $Lionello with a smiling countenance, began
to describe his Mistresse, the house, and street where she dwelt,
how he fel in loue with hir, and how he vsed the counsell of this
Doctor, who in all his affaires was his secretarie.  $Margaret heard
all this with great feare, and when he came at the last point,she
caused a cup of wine to be giuen him by one of hir sisters, wherein
was a ring that he had giuen $Margaret.  As he had tould how he
escapt buring, and was ready to confirme all for a troath, the
Gentlewoman drunke to him:  who taking the cup and seeing the ring,
hauing a quick wit and a reaching head, spide the fetch, and
perceiued that all this while this was his louers husband, to whom
he had reuealed these escapes:  at this drinking the wine, and
swallowing the ring into his mouth, he went forward.  Gentlemen
quoth he, how like you of my loues and my fortunes?  Well quoth
the Gentlemen, I pray you is it true?  As true quoth he, as if I
would be so simple as to reueale what I did to $Margarets husband;
for know you Gentlemen, that I knew this $Mutio to be hir husband
whom I notified to be my louer, and for that he was generally known
through #Pisa to be a iealious foole:  therfore with these tales I
brought him into this paradize, which indeed are follies of mine
owne braine:  for trust me by the faith of a gentleman, I neuer
spake to the woman, was neuer in hir company, neither doe I know hir
if I see her.  At this they all fell in a laughing at $Mutio, who was
ashamd that $Lionello had so scoft him:  but all was well, they were
made friends, but the iest went so to his heart, that he shortlie
after died, and $Lionello enioyed the Ladie, and for that they two
were the death of the ould man, now are they plagued in purgatorie,
and he whips them with Nettles.
<J pipe>
Asssoone as I had passed ouer these two of #Pisa, I looked
about and saw many more, as mad and pleasaunt as the rest:  but my
time was come that I must to the iudge to be censured, what
punishment I should haue my selfe for all the mad wanton tricks, that
I did when I was aliue.  Faith at last because they knew I was a
boone companion, they appointed that I should sit and play Iigs all
day on my Taber to the ghosts without ceasing, which hath brought me
into such vse, that I now play far better then when I was aliue: for
proofe thou shalt heare a hornepipe:  With that putting his pipe
to his mouth, the first stroake he strucke I started, and with that
I waked, and saw such concourse of people through the fields, that
I knew the play was doone, whervpon rising vp, and smiling at my
dreame, and after supper tooke my pen, and as neere as I could set
it downe, but not halfe so pleasantly as he spoake it, but
howsoeuer, take it in good part, and so farewell.
%FINIS.