FOOLE VPON FOOLE, OR, Sixe sortes of Sottes.

  • A flat Foole, and A fatt Foole,
  • A leane Foole, and A cleane Foole,
  • A merry Foole, and A verrie Foole.

Shewing their liues, humours, and behauiours, with their want of witte in their shew of wisedome. Not so strange as true.

Omnia sunt sex.
Clonnico del mondo Snuffe.

LONDON

Printed for William Ferbrand, dwelling in Popes-head Allie neare the Royall Exchange. 1605.

TO THE READER as much health as to my selfe.

SWeete Signior, I salute thee kindly, how vnkindly so euer you salute my labour; desiring thy loue, not thy dislyke: Mee thinkes it were of all thinges more then strange, that men lyuing, should liue grieuing, and one to repine at an others prosperitie: it may be thou wilt wonder that I doe well; yet I wonder not that thou thinkest ill: for the common course is such, the more is the pittie. What, ist a new Booke sayes one? I, sayes another; tis call'd Foole vpon Foole: Nay like enough (sayes the first) Fooles write as their witte workes. Why, do we not know that sometimes the ayre purgeth with vncomfortable sleete, as profi­table raine? Are all Wits euer prosperous? no, times are leaden, dull: Age weakens, and Wits must needes decline. Euery one then saue one, and do what a can, not what a would: But I am tedious to thee and to my selfe: bid my Booke welcome, it may be I may liue to make thee amendes: if not, no more but this; such a one dy'de in thy debt.

Adew, and read true.

How Iacke Oates playde at Cardes all alone.

IAcke Oates sitting at Cardes all alone, was dealing to himselfe at Vide-rusfe (for that was the game he ioyed in) and as he spide a Knaue: Ah knaue art there, quoth hee? When he spide a King, King by your leaue, quoth he: if he spied a Queene Queene Richard art come, quoth he? and would kneele downe and bid God blesse her Maiestie (meaning indeed the then Queene, whom he heard Sir William Hollis his Maister so much to pray for:) But heere is the Iest, Iacke as I say, being at Cardes all alone, spying a Knaue and saying, Ah Knaue art there? A simple Seruingman being in the Hall waighting his maisters comming, walking by, and hearing him say so, thought he had cal­led him Knaue, tooke the matter in dudgin, and miscalled the Foole: another Seruingman more foolish then both, tooke Iackes part, so that in short time they two fell together by the eares; who being parted, Iacke Oates giues them each one a Knaue, and so takes them into the Buttry to drinke: the Knight comes in, seeing the Hall not yet quiet, askt the matter? Iacke comes, Ile tell thee Willy, quoth hee: As I was a playing at Cardes, one seeing I wonne all I playde for, would needes haue the Knaue from mee; which as very a Knaue is hee seeing, would needes beare him Knaue for company: so to bid them both wel­come to thy house, I haue bin to intreat the Knaue thy Butler to make them drinke. I sayes Sir William, and you like a Knaue made them fall out. I answered Iacke, and your drinke Sir knaue made them friendes. Sir William laughing, departed.

How Iacke hit a Noble-man a boxe on the eare.

Newes came to Sir William that such a Nobleman was com­ming to his house, great prouision was made for his wel­come: and amongst all Iacke Oates put on his now Motley coate, a cleane Muckender, and his new shooes. Much preparation was made, which were too long to tell, for Ile assure ye it was one of the greatest Earles in England, vnfit to name here: but the Knight and his Ladie met him at the gate to entertaine him: Sir William with a low congy saluted him, the good Ladie, as is the Courtly custom, was kist of this Noble man: Iacke Oates see­ing him kisse his Lady, on the sodaine giues the Earle a sound boxe on the eare: knaue (quoth he) kisse Sir Willies wife? the good Knight amazed at this, caused him to be whipt: but the kinde No­ble man knowing simplicitie the ground of his errour, would not suffer it, but putting it vp, left him and entred the house. Iacke seeing they were sad, and he had done amisse, had this wit in sim­plicitie to shaddowe it: he comes after and askt the Earle where his hand was? Here (quoth hee) with that he shakes him by it, and sayes, I mistooke it before, knowing not your eare from your hand being so like one another: Iacke thought hee had mended the matter, but now he was whipt indeede, and had his payment alto­gether. Thus fooles thinking to bee wise, become flat foolish, but all is one, Iacke neuer repented him.

How a Minstrell became a foole artificiall, and had Iacke Oates his reward for his labour.

AT a Christmas time, when great logs furnish the Hall fire: when Brawne is in season, & in deede all Reueling is regarded: this gallant knight kept open house for all com­mers, where Beefe, Beere, and Bread was no niggard. A­mongst all the pleasures prouided, a Noyse of Minstrelles, and a Lincolnshire Bagpipe was prepared: the Minstrels for the great Ceamber, the Bagpipe for the Hall: the Minstrels to serue vp the Knights meate, and the Bagpipe for the common dauncing. [Page] Iacke could not endure to be in the common Hall, for indeede the foole was a little proude minded, and therefore was altogether in the great Chamber at my Ladies or Sir Williams elbo one time being very melancholy, the Knight to rouse him vp, saide, hence foole hence, Ile haue another foole, thou shalt dwell no longer with me: Iack to this answered little, though indeed ye could not anger him worse: A Gentleman at the boord answeres, if it please you sir Ile bring ye another foole soone: I pray ye do (quoth the knight) and he shall be welcome. Iacke fell a crying, and departed mad and angry downe into the great Hall: and being strong armed (as be­fore I described him, caught the Bagpipes from the piper, knocke them about his pate, that he laid the fellow for dead on the ground, and all broken, carries the pipes vp into the great Chamber, and layes them on the fire. The Knigt knowing by Iacke, that some thing was amisse, sends downe to see: newes of this iest came, the knight angry (but to no purpose, for he loued the foole aboue all, & that the houshold knew, else Iacke had paide for it, for the common peoples dauncing was spoiled) sent downe Iacke, and had him out of his sight: Iacke cryes hang sir Willy, hang sir Willy & departes.

Sir William not knowing how to amend the matter, caused the Piper to be caried to bed, who was very ill: and said I would now giue a gold noble for a foole indeede to anger him throughly: one of the Minstrels whispered a Gentleman in the eare, and sayd, if it pleased him he would, whereat the Gentleman laught: the Knight demaunded the reason of his laughing, I pray you tell mee (quoth he) for laughing could neuer come in a better time, the foole hath madded me. If it please you (sayes the Gentleman) here is a good fellow will goe and attire him in one of his coates, and can in all pointes behaue himselfe naturally like such a one: it is good (sayes the Knight) and I prethee good fellow about it, & one go cal Iack Oates hither, that we may hold him with talke in the meane time.

The simple Minstrill thinking to worke wonders, as one ouer­ioyed at the good oportunitie threw his Fiddle one way, his stick another, and his case the third way, and was in such a case of ioye, that it was no boote to bid him make hast, but proud of the knights fauour away he flings, as if he went to take possessiō of some great Lordship, but where ere he got by it, I am sure his fiddle with the fall fell a peeces, which grieued his maister so that in loue and pitie [Page] he laughed till the water ran downe his cheekes: beside this good Knight was lik to keepe a bad Christmas, for the Bagpipes & the Musique went to wracke, the one burnt, and the other broken.

In comes Iacke Oates, and (being merry) told the Knight and the rest, that a Country-wench in the Hall had eaten Garlicke, and there was seuenteene men poysoned with kissing her: for it was vse to iest thus: by & by comes in a messenger (one of the Knights men) to tell him that such a Gentleman had sent his Foole to dwell with him. He is welcome sayes the Knight, for I am weary of this Foole, goe bid him come in, Iacke bid him welcome: they all laught to see Iackes cullour come and goe, like a wise man ready to make a good end: What say you to this, sayes the Knight? not one word sayes Iacke. They cinged with a knife at the bottome of a glasse, as toulling the bell for the Foole, who was speechlesse and would die (then which, nothing could more anger him:) but now the thought of the new come Foole so much mooued him, that hee was as dead as a doore nayle: standing on tip-toe looking to­wardes the doore to behold his arriuall, that he would put his nose out of ioynt.

By and by enters my artificiall Foole in his old cloathes, mak­ing wry mouthes, dauncing, looking a squint: who when Iacke beheld, sodainly he flew at him, and so violently beate him, that all the Table rose, but could scarce get him off: well, off he was at length, the Knight caused the broken ones to be by themselues. My poore Minstrill with a fall had his head broake to the skull a­gainst the ground, his face scratcht, that which was worst of all, his left eye put out, and withall so sore bruzed, that he could nei­ther stand nor goe: the Knight caused him to be laide with the Py­per, who was also hurt in the like conflict, who lackt no good loo­king to, because they miscarried in the Knights seruice: but euer after Iacke Oates could not endure to heare any talke of another Foole to be there, and the Knight durst not make such a motion. The Piper and the Minstrill being in bed together, one cryed, O his backe and face the other, O his face and eye: the one cryed O his Pipe, the other, O his Fiddle. Good Musicke or broken con­sorts they agree well together: but when they were well, they were contented for their paines: they had both money and the Knights fauour. Here you haue heard the difference twixt a Flat [Page] foole naturall, and a Flat foole artificiall, one that had his kinde, and the other who foolishly followed his owne minde: on which two is written this Rime.

Naturall Fooles, are prone to selfe conceite:
Fooles artificiall, with their wits lay waite
To make themselues fooles, likeing the disguyes,
To feede their owne mindes, and the gazers eyes.
Hee that attempts daunger, and is free,
Hurting himselfe, being well cannot see:
Must with the Fidler heere weare the Fooles coates,
And bide his pennance sign'd him by Iacke Oates.
All such say I, that vse flat foolerie,
Beare this, beare more; this flat Fooles companie.

How Iacke Oates eate vp a Quince Pye, being of choyse prouided for Sir William.

IAcke Oates could neuer abide the Cooke, by reason that hee would scald him out of the Kitchin. Vpon a time he had a great charge from his Lady to make her a Quince Pie of purpose for Sir Williams owne eating, which the Cooke endeuored to do, and sent to Lincolne of purpose to the Apothecaries for choyse Quinces: Iacke being at this charge giuen, thought to be euen with the Cooke, and waited the time when this Pie was made: it hapned so the Cooke could get no Quinces, my Lady (for it was the Knights desire to haue one) sent about to Boston, and all the chiefe townes, but al in vaine, the season serued not: but rather then sir William should be vnfurnished, sent to Lincolne againe to buy vp many Quinces ready preserued at Pothecaries, which she had, though with great cost. The Knight asking his Lady for his Pie, she told him with much adoe she had preuailed, but with no little paines in seeking Quinces, for she was faine to buy thē ready pre­serued, & to make a vertue of necessity that way. Sir William see­ing it was so, sayd it should be as well eaten, & sent for his friends, Gentlemen, and others of no small account. There was other great cheare prouided to furnish vp this sumptuous Feast, and as he inuited them, he told them it was a Quince Pie, which he would haue eaten: the day drew on, and the Gentles were come, and all was in a redines, & still Iacke forgat not the Pie, but stood faintly [Page] sicke, and refused his meate: the Knight sory that his best dish fay­led him, made no small accompt of his welfare, askt him: Iacke, sayes hee, Where lyes thy paine? In my mouth sayes hee (mea­ning in deede his mouth hung for the Quince Pie:) a Barber was sent for from a Market towne hard by, who searcht his mouth and could find no cause of paine: but sir William thinking the Foole wanted wit to tell his griefe (though not wit to play the cheefe) bade the Barber depart, asking Iacke what he would eate? He sayd nothing: What he would drinke? He sayd nothing: which made sir William doubt much of his health, refusing his li­quor, when it was vsually his practise, and the Knight ioyed in it too: askt him if he would walke? he sayd no: if he would lie downe? still answering no; but would stande by the Kitchin fire. The Knight that knew he neuer came there but he did some exployte, forgetting that, led him by the hand (so much he made of him) and bad the Cooke see he wanted nothing. Iacke standing stil, groand & sayd: If he dyed, he would forgiue all the world but the Cooke. Hang Foole (sayes the Cooke) I care not for thee, die to morrow if thou wilt, and so followed his busines. They knockt to the Dres­ser, & the dinner went vp▪ Iacke had a sheepes eye in the Ouen: anone the second course came, the Pie was drawne, set by, and among other backt meates was to be sent vp, but wanting Suger, stept aside to the spicerie to fetch it, and Iacke in the meane time catcheth the Pie and claps it vnder his coate, & so runnes through the Hall into the Yard, where was a broad Moate, and as he ran, the hot Pie burnd his belly: I sayes Iacke, are yee so hot Sir Willies Pie, Ile quence ye anone sir Willies Pie sayes he, and straight very subtilly leapes into the Moate vp to the arme-pits, and there stood eating the Pie. The Cooke comes in, misses the Pie, withall misses Iacke, cryes out, the Pie: sir Williams Pie was gone, the Author of that feast was gone, and they all were vndone: a hurly burly went through the house, and one comes and whispers the Lady with the newes: shee tels sir William how Iacke Oates had stolen the Pie. Iacke was searcht for, and anone found in the Moate. It was told the Knight where the Foole was eating it: Gentlemen (quoth he) we are disfurnished of our feast, for Iacke my Foole is in my Moate vp to the arme-pits eating of the Pie. They laught and ran to the Windows to see the iest: [Page] there they might see Iacke eate, the Cooke call, the people hallow, but to no purpose: Iacke fed, and feeding greedily (more to anger the Cooke, then disapoint sir William) euer as he burnt his mouth with haste, dipt the Pye in the water to coole it: O sayes the Cook it is Sir Williams owne Pye sirra: O saies Iacke hang thee and sir Willy too I care not, it is mine now: saue Sir William some sayes one, saue my Lady some saies another: by Iames not a bit sayes Iacke, and eate vp all, to the wonder of the beholders, who neuer knew him eate so much before, but drinke ten times more: at length out comes Iacke dropping drye, and goes to get fire to dry him: the knight and the rest all laught a good at the iest, not know­ing how to mend it. Sir William sends for the Cooke, who came vp with a sorrowfull hart, & lamentably complaining, said: it was the Knights fault for placing him in the Kitchin, where hee neuer was, but he did the like villany. The Knight not satisfied with the Cookes answere, presently discharges him of his seruice, and sent him to liue elsewhere: go sayes he, trusse vp your trinkets and bee gone: the Cooke seeing no remedy departed.

Iack being dry vp he comes, and knowing he had offended, tels a iest (for it was the maner so to do) how a yong man brake his codpeece poynt and let all be seene that God sent him, or such foole­ries, but that was not enough, and to chide him, was to make worse of things then twas, and to no purpose neither. Sir William de­maunded why he eate the Pye? because I had a stomacke sayes Iacke: would nought else serue, sayes the Knight but my Pye? O no Willy, saies he, thou would not be angry then, and the Cooke had not beene turned away: but all is well, thou art rich enough to buy more. The Knight perceiuing the fooles enuy, sent for the Cooke, and did let him enioy his place againe. So all parties well pleased, but the yong big-bellied women, who perchance longed for this long looked for Pye, but if they did, though long looke for comes at last, yet they shoote short that ayme to hit this marke, for Iacke Oates had eaten the Pye and serued himselfe. This was a flat foole, yet now and then a blinde man may hit a Crow, and you know a fooles boult is soone shot: out it goes hoppen how it will: had Iacke kept his owne counsell the Cooke had beene still out of seruice, and had beene reuenged, but now being in his place againe may liue to crye quittance for the Quince Pye.

A Fat Foole

The Description of Iemy Camber, A Fat Foole Naturall.

THis Fat foole was a Scot borne, brought vp,
In Sterlin, twentie miles fram Edinborough:
Who being but young, was for the King caught vp:
Seru'd this Kings Father all his life time through.
A yarde high and a nayle no more his stature,
Smooth fac't fayre spoken, yet vnkinde by nature.
Two yardes in compasse and a nayle I reede
Was he at forty yeeres, since when I heard not,
Nor of his life or death, and further heede,
Since I neuer read, I looke not, nor regard not,
But what at that time Iemy Camber was,
As I haue heard Ile write, and so let passe.
His head was small, his hayre long on the same,
One eare was bigger then the other farre:
His fore-head full, his eyes shinde like a flame,
His nose flat and his beard small, yet grew square.
His lips but little, and his wit was lesse,
But wide of mouth, few teeth I must confesse.
His middle thicke, as I haue said before,
Indifferent thighes and knees, but very short:
His legges be square, a foote long and no more,
Whose very presence made the King much sport.
And a pearle spoone he still wore in his cap,
To eate his meate he lou'd, and got by hap
A pretty little foote, but a big hand,
On which he euer wore rings rich and good:
Backward well made as any in that land,
Though thicke, and he did come of gentle bloud.
But of his wisedome ye shall quickly heare,
How this Fat Foole was made on euery where.

How Iemy Camber this Fat Foole, gaue his Chayne of Golde from his necke to war­rant his life.

WHen the King and Nobles of Scotland had welcomed Ie­my Camber to the Court, who was their Countrey-man borne in Sterlin, but twentie miles from Edinborough, this Kings birth towne, as Greenewich was our late Queenes. They reasoned with him to vnderstand his wit, which indeed was iust none at all, yet merry and pleasing, wherat the King reioiced: and seeing he was so fat, caused his Doctors and Phisitians to mi­nister to him, but Phisicke could not alter nature, and hee would neuer be but a S. Vincents Turnip, thicke and round. Wherefore the Doctors perswaded his grace, that the purging of the Sea was good for him: well, nothing was vndone, that might bee done to make Iemy Camber a tal little slender man. When yet he lookt like a Norfolke dumpling, thicke and short. Well to Leeth was he sent, which is the harbour towne of such shippes as arriue at E­dinborough: neere they cannot come, which is some myle from the Cittie. To Sea they put in a ship, at whose departure they discharged Ordinance, as one that departed from the land with the Kings fauour: the Earle Huntley was sent with him to Sea, to accompanie him, so high he was esteemed with the King. Who hearing the Ordinance goe off, would aske what they doe now? Marry sayes the Earle, they shoot at our enemies: O saies he, hit I pray God. Againe they discharge, what doe they now quoth he? marry now the enemie shootes at vs. O misse I pray God (saies Iemy Camber:) so euer after it was a iest in the Scottish Court hit or misse quoth Iemy Camber: that if a maide had a barne, and did pennance at the Crosse in the high Towne of Edinborough: what hath she done? did she hit or misse? she hath hit saies the other, better she had mist sayes the first: and so long time after this iest was in memorie, yea I haue heard it my self, & some will talke of it at this day. Wel to sea they put on a fair sunshine day, where Iemy stood fearefull of euery calme billow, where it was no boote to bid him tel what the ship was made of, for he did it deuoutly: but see the chaunce, a sodaine flaw or gust rose, the winds held strong East and by west, and the ship was in great daunger, insomuch as the Earle, [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] Maister, and all began to feare the weather: by & by a stronger gale blew & split their maine Mast, & gaue their ship a mighty leake, in­somuch as the cracke made them all screeke out: which Iemy hea­ring was almost dead with feare: some fell to pumping, others on their knees to praying. But the Fat foole seeing themselues in this danger, thought there was no way but one with them, & was halfe dead with feare, in the end the winde turned, and the raging of the Sea began to cease: I warrant thee now (quoth the Maister) Iemy we shall not be drowned: I, will ye warrant vs, saies the foole? I, sayes the Maister, Ile giue thee my ship for thy chayne if wee bee drowned: beare witnes my Lord saies he, a plaine bargaine, and with that threw the Maister his chaine, who would haue giuen it to the Earle, but ioy of their scape made him delight in the iest, and therefore the Maister enioyed his bargaine: With much adoe they attained thither againe, where the King fearefull before, awayted their landing now, and seeing Iemy not a iot lesse of body then hee was, (onely lightened of his chaine) how now, quoth he, how doest thou man? O sayes Iemy, well now King, but ill had not the Mai­ster beene, who warranted our liues for my chaine, the best bargain that euer I made, for no way could I haue bene a looser: how, saies the King? marry Ile tel thee King, quoth he, say we had bin drow­ned, his ship was forfeit to me for my chayne, Earle Huntley was a witnesse to the bargaine: and now wee are not drowned, for my chayne did warrant our liues of the Maister: nay, sayes the Earle, not our liues, none but yours Iemy: our liues were as safe vnwar­ranted without a chaine. With this the foole had some feeling of sence and on the sodaine cried out mainely for his chayne againe, which was restored to him by the Maister, but he lost nothing by that, for he attained to a suit, as the story sayes, that he had beene three yeres aboue. Thus the King & Nobles went to Edinborough merrily talking of their feare and welfare.

How Iemy Camber gaue fiue French Crownes for a Sallet of an atchison price, which in our money was three farthings.

IEmy this Fat foole vsed euery day to go from the Abbey in the low towne, vp the hill into the Citie of Edinborough, and one e­uening aboue the rest, he met with a broken Virgine, one that had had a barne (as there they are knowne by their attire) wearing a [Page] loose kerchiffe hanging downe backward, she I say cryed Sallets as thus: buy any Cibus Salletea. Iemy desirous of Sallets, calles her to him: lasse sayes he, what shall I giue thee for a good Sallet? fayre sir sayes the wench (for she knew him for the Kinges foole, & she could not please him better then to call him fayre sir) you must giue mee an atchison: nowe hee hauing nothing but sixe French Crownes about him, canst thou change mee a Crowne sayes hee? yea sir sayes she: he giues her a French Crowne, and she gaue him a Sallet for it, and she went her way.

Iemy thinkes it was mutch to giue a crowne for that, for which she did demaund but an atchison: which in our money is but three farthinges, he runnes after and sayes, she had his fayrest crowne, but saies he giue mee that and take your choyse of these: thinking by that deuise to get the first Crowne againe. Will ye chaunge sayes the lasse? I sayes the foole: so she takes all the fiue and giues him one againe, & so laughing at his folly, goes her way, it was in vaine to exclayme, for they will hold fast what they get: but my fat foole goes home to eate his Sallet, & inuites the King to a deere dish, and made him laugh hartely at the iest: The King calles for Viniger to his Sallet, because his sweete meate should haue sower sauce, & perswaded him it was well bought, otherwise if the foole had repented his bargaine, it was his manner to cry for his mo­ney againe, and without it all the Court could not quiet him.

How Iemy this fat Foole, swet almost to death, and neuer knew the reason.

BEtwixt Edenborough Abbey the Kings place and Leeth, there stands an euen plaine greene Meddow, in which the King vsed most of his sports: amongst which he rode thither one day to run at the Gloue, or the King, as his Grace should please. With him rides Iemy Camber on a trotting Mule: it was then a maruel­lous hot day. O (sayes Iemy) how cold the weather is (so wise he was that he scarce knew hot from cold.) No sayes the King, it is hot, looke how I sweat. No, sayes Iemy the Sunne blowes very cold. No, sayes the King, the windes shines very hot. The Foole was almost angry to be crossed, & said, he would be hanged at night if he did sweate that day: with this merry talke they rode on: but one of the Kinges Footemen hearing this, told the King at their [Page] returne he would make his Grace laugh hartely: so the King very gallantly ran that time, & neuer mist the gloue, & so did the Lords: which Iemy seeing, sayd it was nothing to do: The King bad him run, he did so: but the Gloue lay still, and Iemy could not do it.

The Kings footman (that watcht to do him a good turne) said, Iemy could do it better blindfolde: what can he q. the King, I wil neuer beleeue it? you shall see else quoth he: whereat Iemy maruei­led much, that without sight a man could doe that which with all his might and sight he could not do, was desirous to make tryall, so was blinded with a scarfe, while another tooke vp the gloue, and was ready for the iest: Iemy runnes, ah for my Maister saies hee, they all shout alowd and cry rarely well done, and one vnblindes him, while another puts the gloue on the speare. So simple hee was, that he thought it was strange, and bragged all that day not a little: the King did alight and went to drinke wine at the Lord Hunnes house, and Iemy went with him, while the foote-man had time to worke his will, and mingling a conceit with butter (which I will not name, least some one should practise the like) clapt it vnder the saddle, and as they rode home to Edinborough, saies the King, what say you to the weather now Iemy? mee thinkes it is hotter then it was? nay it is colder sayes he, for I begin to sweate.

The trotting of his Mule made the mingled confection lather so, that it got into his breeches, and workt vp to the crowne of his head, I to the sole of his foote, and so he sweat profoundly: still he wipt and he wipt, sweating more and more, they laught a good to see him in that taking: now you must be hanged, quoth the King, as your bargaine was, for you sweat very much: what remedie, sayes hee, I am content to be hanged, but while I liue after, Ile neuer beleeue cold weather will make one sweat: no more will I sayes the King, but hot weather will. Hot or cold, sayes Iemy, I am warme now I am sure, I would I were ouer head and eares in some Riuer to coole mee. So simple he was, that he knew not whether it was the Sunne or the wind made him sweat: at night the King caused him to be washt, and perfumed, yet he was scarce sweete twentie dayes after. Thus this fatte Foole chaft, but not in his owne grease.

How this fatte Foole Iemy Camber, ran with the Kings best Foote-man for a wager, and won it.

IEmy, who was as you haue heard, a tall low man, and was swift of foote, on a time challenged the Kings best Foote-man, for a wager to run with him from the Abbey vp the hill to Cannegate, (which stood euering to Edenborough, as Ludgate doth to Londō, and the Kings place about Temple barre:) the King being told of this challenge, thought it would be good sport to see it perfor­med, still perswaded Iemy to dare his Foote-man, who before de­nyed him, and knew Fooles would talke any thing, though farre vnfit to performe any thing. Still the King would say hee was made nimble to runne, and askt euery Noblemans iudgement, who likewise soothed the King: it was so that they made him be­leeue he was swift of foote, that I thinke Iemy in the end perswa­ded himselfe, that none but fatt men could run well, and nimble men being light, would fall soonest, considering that light things being of small substannce, not feeling themselues, would surely fal. But heere is the sport, the Foot-man seeing it was the Kings pleasure to see the wager tryed, dared him, which made Iemy mad, that he would runne with him from Edenborough to Barwicke (which was fourtie myles) in one day, as a thing vnpossible as to pull downe a Church in one houer, and to builde it againe in an other: for Iemy was lost in the Kings company once of purpose, but fiue myle from the Citty, at the Earle Mortons castle at da Keth, and they thought he would neuer haue come home againe: when the King heard euery houre he was comming, and still as he increated euery passenger to let him ride: by the Kinges watch in the high way, they had warning giuen to the contrary: for he was seuen dayes going fiue myle: then iudge how long he would be a running fourtie? you will muse how he did for meate all the time: Ile tell you he fasted all day, and went supperlesse to bed, but be­ing in his first sounde sleepe, meate was brought and layde by him and a Choppin of Wine (for so they call it theere) which made him at his comming to court tell the King, Heauen was gentler then Earth, for earthly men would shew him no fauour, neither to ride nor feede him, when he was euery night cast into a sounde [Page] sleepe, and then when he wakt was sure of meate from heauen to feede on: when the meate came from the Kings Kitchin at Eden­borough Abbey.

But to goe forward with our challenge, the King sayd the first word should stand, and on Iemyes head he layd a thousand marks: the Lady Carmichell that laught to heare all this, wagered as much on the Footmans head: the day was appoynted the next mor­row being Thursday, to begin at fiue a clocke in the after noone, in the coole of the euening, and euery one to his race must make him ready. Iemy as he had seene the Kinges Footman do, washt his feete with Beere, and soakt them in Butter: so all that night, and the next day, there was nothing but Iemy and his prouision to that great iourney. The time came, Iemy was stript into his shirt, trust round for the purpose: the Footman and hee begins to runne: the Footman makes great shew of labour, and the Foole made the substaunce, for hee was quickly in a sweat: they puft and they blowd, they ranne as swift as a pudding would creepe. Iemy thought himselfe no small foole to out-run the Footman, and did in his minde assure himselfe to win: the King laughes to see the toyle he made, and the Footman made great shew and litle paines. By and by Iemy calles for drinke, and the King loath hee should haue any harme with labour, caused him to haue a mixed drinke to cast him into a sleepe: who when he had drunke, as he ran on his wager, he dropt downe in the streete, as heauy as if a leaden plum­met that makes a Iacke turne the spitte, and fallen on the earth dab: there he slept, and was carryed by commaund to the top of the hill, and layde downe againe: there he slept halfe an houre, and when he wakt, he remembred his iourney: seeing people still a­bout him, vp he gets, away he iogs, and neuer lookes behind him: and seeing Cannegate so neere him, had not the witte to wonder how he came there, but layde hold on the ring of the gate, & stayde to be seene. By and by the Footeman comes sweating, with wa­ter powred on his face and head: O my hart sayes hee: O my legges! sayes Iemy, I will not do so much for all Scotlande againe. Well, Iemy cryes victorie, victorie: and there was the Kinges Coach at hand to carry him home, for of himselfe he could neuer haue gone, had his life laine on it. But when he came home, the bragges he made, the glory he gotte, how hee out-ranne the [Page] Footeman (and ran so easily as if he had beene asleepe) was won­derfull: I, it was sport enough for the King a month after to heare him tell it. Well, the King wonne the wager he thought, and that was honour sufficient for him: not three dayes after he bad the King put away all his Footemen, and he would serue his turne to any place. The King thanked him for his good wil, and said when his neede was great, he would make bolde to vse him: so Iemy this fat foole euer bragged of this wager.

How this fat Foole Iemy was stung with nettles, and how after vnknowne to himselfe, helped to make his owne graue.

THere was a Laundres of the Towne, whose daughter vsed often to the Court, to bring home shirtes and bandes, which Iemy had long time loued and solicited, but to no ende, shee would not yeeld him an inch of her maidenhead: now Iemy vowed he would haue it all. Well, she consented at last, and to bee short, soone at night at nine a clocke, being in the winter, when she knew her mother to bee gone to watch with a sicke bodie, he should come and all that night lye with her: Iemy though witlesse, wanted no knauish meaning in this, thought long till it was night. But in the afternoone, the mayde goes vp to the Castle, and gathers a great basket of Nettles, and comming home, strawes them vnder the bed.

Night comes, nine a clocke strikes, Iemy on his horse comes riding forward, sets him vp and knockes at the doore, she lets him in, and bids him welcome bonny man: to bed hee goes, and Iemy neuer was vsed but to lye naked, for it is the vse of a number, a­mongst which number she knew Iemy was one, who no sooner was in bed, but she herselfe knocke at the doore, and herselfe asked who was there, which Iemy hearing was afraid of her mother: a­las Sir (sayes she) creepe vnder the bed, my mother comes. Iemy bustled not a little, vnder he creepes starke naked, where hee was stung with Nettles: iudge you that haue feeling of such matters, there he lay, turning this way and that way, here he stung his leg, here his shoulder, there his buttocks: but the mayde hauing lockt the doore to him, went to bed and there lay he in durance (as they say) till morning: when the day broke vp gets the maide, to Court [Page] she goes, and tels the Kings chamberlaine of the matter, and hee tolde the King, who laughed thereat rigt hartily.

The Chamberlaine was sent to see him there, who when he came, found him fast asleepe vnder the bed starke naked, bathing in Net­tles, whose skinne when he wakened him, was all blistered gree­uously. The Kings Chamberlaine bid him arise and come to the King. I will not, quoth he. I will goe make my graue. See how thinges chaunced, he spake truer then he was aware: for the Cham­berlaine going home without him, tolde the King his aunswere. Iemy rose, made him ready, takes his horse and rides to the church yard, in the high towne, where he found the Sexton (as the custom is there) making 9 graues, three for men, three for women, & three for children, and who so dyes next, first comes first seru'd: lend mee thy spade, sayes Iemy, and with that digs a hole, which hole he bids him make for his graue, and doth giue him a French crowne, the man willing to please him (more for his gold then his pleasure) did so: and the foole gets vpon his horse, and rides to a Gentleman of the towne, and on the sodaine within two houres after dyed: of whome the Sexton telling, he was buried there indeed. Thus you see fooles haue a gesse at wit sometime, and the wisest could haue done no more, nor so much. But thus our fat Foole fils a leaue graue with his carkasse, vpon which graue the King caused a stone of Marble to be put, on which the Poets did write these lines in remembrance of him to this day.

He that gard all men till ieare,
Iemy a Chamber he ligges here:
Pray for his sale, for he is geane,
And here a ligges beneath this steane.

A Leane Foole

How Leanard a leane Foole, playde at slide groate by himselfe after dinner, when his belly was full.

IN the merry Forrest of Shearewood dwels a kinde Gentle­man, whose name I omit, fearing I too much offend in med­ling with his foole: but I trust he will pardon me, for sithence he is so wel knowne there abouts, I thinke it not amisse to tell it at London, that people seeing the strange workes of God, in his dif­fering creatures, we that haue perfect resemblance of God, both in sence and similitude, may the btter praise his name, that we differ from them whose humors we read, see, & heare, are not so strange as true. I say againe, this Gentleman hath yet a Foole, Leanard they call him: leane of body, looking like enuie, whose conditions agree with his countenaunce: one time aboue all other, he lockt himselfe into a Parlour, where all alone he playd at slide groate, as his maner was, peeces or counters he had none: yet casting his hand emptie from him, fly sayes he, short with a vengeance: then play sayes he (to his fellow) when in deed there is none but him­selfe: but thus with supposes he playes alone, swaggers with his game fellow, out-sweares him with a thousand oathes, challenges him the field to answer him if he be a man, appoynts the place and all, that if any not knowing his conditions, should stand without and heare him, would thinke two swaggerers were swearing God from heauen.

To his play againe he falles, seuen vp for twelue pence, for that is his game still: well, they fall out, they goe together by the eares, and such a hurley burley is in the roome it passes: at the last the Stooles they flye about, the Pottes they walke, the Glas­ses they go together, nay the Prayer bookes they fly into the fire, that such a noyse there was, that the whole house wondred at his folly, perswasions were to no purpose, doores would he open none, till they violently brake them open, though they weare of golde, and so they did, and entred the Parler, found all this leuell coyle, and his pate broken, his face scratcht, and legge out of ioynt, as a [Page] number say to this houre, that a is a play fellow for the diuel, and in game they cannot agree: but that is otherwise, for in the great Hall, at the seruing mens request he will play by himselfe, if they will not play with him: and who so playes with him, though they play for nothing and with nothing, al is one they must fall out, and if others be not by to part them, mischiefe may be done, for he will lay it on, take it off who will: so that at his first comming hee en­daungered many, and now take heede is a fayre thing, for few will come neede him. Thus you may see fooles that wants wit to go­uerne themselues well, haue a wilfull will to go forward in folly.

How this leane Foole Leanard, eating his belly full, was reuen­ged of one that clapt corziars waxe to his head.

THis leane greedy foole hauing a stomacke, and seeing the but­ler out of the way, his appetite was such, as loath to tarrie, breakes open the Dairy house, eates and spoyles new cheese-curdes, cheese-cakes, ouerthrowes creame bowles, and hauing fil­led his belly, and knew he had done euill, gets him gone to Mans­field in Sherwood, as one fearefull to be at home: the Maydes came home that morning from milking, and finding such a masa­ker of their Dairie, almost mad, thought a yeares wages could not make amends: but O the foole leane Leanard, they cryed, hee did this mischiefe, they complained to their Master, but to no purpose, Leanard was farre enough off, search was made for the foole, but he was gone none knew whither, and it was his propertie hauing done mischiefe, neuer to come home of himselfe, but if any one in­treated him, he would easily be wonne.

All this while the foole was at Mansfield in Sherwood, & stood gaping at a Shoomakers stall: who not knowing him, asked him what he was? go looke sayes he, I know not my selfe: they asked him where he was borne? at my mothers backe saies he: in what countrey quoth they? in the country, quoth he, where God is a good man: at last one of the three Iourneymen, imagined hee was not very wise, and flouted him very merrily, asking him if hee would haue a stitch where there was a hole? (meaning his mouth) I quo­the foole, if your nose may be the needle: the Shoomaker could haue founde in his hart to haue tooke measure on his pate with a [Page] Last insteede of his foote: but let him goe as he was.

A Countrey Plow Iogger being by, noting al this, secretly stole a peece of Shoomakers waxe off their stall, and comming behinde him, clapt him on the head, & asked him how he did: the foole seeing the pitch ball, pulled to haue it off, but could not but with much paine, in an enuious spleene smarting ripe, runnes after him, fals at fifty cuffes with him, but the fellowe belaboured the foole cun­ningly, and got the fooles head vnder his arme, and bobd his nose: the foole remembring how his head was, strikes it vp, and hits the fellowes mouth with the pitcht place, so that the haire of his head, and the heyre of the clownes beard, were glude together: the fel­lowe cryed, the foole exclaimed, and could not suddenly part: in the ende the people (after much laughing at the iest) let them part faire the one went to picke his beard, the other his head: the Constable came, askt the cause of their falling out, and knowing one to bee Leanard the leane Foole, whome he had a warrant from the Gen­tleman to search for, demaundes of the fellowe how it happened? the fellow he could answere nothing but vm, vm, for his mouth was sealed vp with waxe: doest thou scorne to speake, sayes hee, I am the Kinges Officer knaue: vm, vm, quoth he againe, meaning he would tell him all when his mouth was cleane: but the Consta­ble thinking he was mockt, clapt him in the stockes, where the fel­lowe sate a long houre farming his mouth: and when hee had done and might tell his griefe, the Constable was gone to carry home Leanard to his Maister, who not at home, he was enforced to stay supper time, where he tolde the Gentleman the iest, who was verie merry to heare the storie, contented the Officer, and bad him to set the fellowe at libertie, who betimes in the morning was founde fast asleepe in the stockes: the fellow knowing himselfe faultie, put vp his wrongs, quickly departed, and went to worke betimes that morning, with a flea in his eare.

How Leane Leanard eate vp his Maisters Hawke, and was almost choaked with the Fethers.

THe Gentleman with whom this Leanard dwelt, hauing bought a goodly faire Hawke, brought her home, being not a little proud of his penny-worth, and at supper to other Gen­tlemen, fell a praysing of her, who soothing vp his humor, likewise fayled not to ad a toarch of fire to increase more flame, for indeede the bird was worthy of commendations, and therefore did merite prayses. Leanard standing by with his finger in his mouth, as it was his custome, often hearing them prayse the goodnesse of the Hawke, hought in deed they had meant for goodnes being farre better meate then a Turkey or a Swan, was very desirous to eate of the same: and vnknowne goes downe, and sodainely from the Pearch snatcht the Hawke, and hauing wrong off her necke, be­gins to besiedge that good morsell, but with so good a courage, that the fethers had almost choakt him: but there lay my friende Leanard in a lamentable taking. Well, the Hawke was mist, and the deed was found, the Maister was fetcht, and all men might see the Hawke, fethers and all not very well disgested: there was no boote to bid runne for drams to driue downe this vndisguested moddicome: the Gentleman of one side, cryed hang the Foole: the Foole on the other side cryed not, but made signes that his Hawke was not so good as he did prayse her for: and though the Gentle­man loued his Hawke, yet he loued the Foole aboue: being enfor­ced rather to laugh at his simplicitie, then to vexe at his losses so­dainely: Being glad to make himselfe merry, iested on it euer af­ter: vpon whose Hawke a Gentleman of his, very wisely writ these lynes, and gaue vnto his Maister.

Fooles feede without heede, vnhappy be their feeding,
Whose heed being in such speed, attempted without heeding
May they choke that prouoke, appetite by pleasure,
When they eate forbidded meate, and feed so out of measure.

The Gentleman laught at this rime, yet knew not whether was the more foole: he for writing, y e other for eating, or he for loosing. Well, putting the Hare to the Goose-gibblets, seeing there was no remedie, make himselfe pastime, pleased himsefe, and did rest contented.

How the Leane Foole set fire on the Wheele-barrow that he loued so, vnknowne to himsalfe.

HEe that mischiefes many, sometimes wrongs himselfe: as har­ken to this iest. Leanard of all thinges loued his Wheele-bar­row, he would worke al day and carry dung in it, yet would sleepe in it at night: he would set vp meate for his belly in it, I what did hee without it? Once at a Christmas time, when the fire in the Hall was full, and Leanard was sore a cold, he got coales out of the Scullery, and put them into his Barrow, and set them on fire, and so sate him downe to warme him, quite forgetting it was made of Wood, and Wood would burne: so in the ende beeing warme, goes for a Iacke of Beere, bringes it, and sets it on the fire to warme, so that the inside melted, and hee dranke the drinke notwithstanding: but on the sodaine hee seeing the Wheele-bar­row flame that he so loued, aloude he cries O mee, O mee, O mee, and takes it vp flaming, and trundles it into the Hall among the people to shew: the young men and maydes tumbled ouer one an­other for feare: some had their faces burned, others their legges: the maydes their smockes, yea one set fire on another, for their Aproues burned, and being many people, the flame increased ra­ther then decreased: Leanard seeing no one would helpe him, runnes (for feare least the Gentleman should know it) and thrusts it into the Barne to hide it, which some seeing, runnes after, and had they not come at that time, the Hay and Straw had been all burnt, for it was already of a light fire, but being quencht out, all was well: such is the enuie of Fooles, who seeing none would helpe him, thought to doe them mischiefe, which he did, but not much.

A Cleane Foole

How Iacke Miller simply burned the hayre of his head and face.

IN a Gentlemans house where Iacke Miller resorted, as he was welcome to all: it chaunced so there was a Play, the Players dressed them in the Gentlemans Kitchin, & so entred through the Entry into the Hall. It was after dinner when Pyes stood in the Ouen to coole for supper: Iacke had not dyned, and seeing the Ouen stand open, and so many Pyes there vntold (he thought be­cause they seemed numberlesse) O sayes Iacke, for one of them p. p. pies, for so he stamered in speking (the Players boy being by, & in his Ladyes Gowne) could haue found in his hart to creepe in clothes and all: but he perswaded Iacke to do so, to which he was willing, and very nimbly thrustes in his head into the hot Ouen, which being but newly opened, on the sodaine he was singed both of head and face, and almost not a hayre left on his eye-browes, or beard: Iacke cryes, O I burne, and had not the wit to come backe, but lay still: the Gentlewoman boy tooke him by the heeles and pulled him out, but how he looked I wish you to iudge that can dis­cerne cullours. O Iacke was in a bad taking with his face poore soule, and lookt so vgly, and so strangly, that the Lady of the Play being ready to enter before the Gentiles to play her part, no soo­ner began, but remembring Iacke, laught out, and could goe no further: the Gentleman inuzed at what he laught: but such a iest being easily seene, was told to the Gentleman, who sent in for Iack Miller, who came like bald Time, to tell them time was past of his hayre: but he so strangely lookt as his countenance was better then the Play. But against night y e Players drest them in another place, and at supper Iacke Miller sung his song of Dirries fayre, with a barmy face to take out the fire, & lookt like the Pater of the Alefat it was no boote to bid Iacke stut & stammer, poore foole as cleane as he was, he was now but beastly faced, for he looked like a man that being asham'd to shew his face, had hid it in a dry lome wall, and pulling it out againe, left all the hayre behind him.

How the cleane foole was loth to foule his shooes, or foule his band.

IAcke, on Newyéeres day in the morning, was to carry a New­yeres gift to a gentleman a myle off; and as he stayd to haue it deliuered to him to beare, asked which was the cleanest way thi­ther? A fellow knowing his cleanlinesse, sends him ouer a durty marsh: & so he folded vp his band (then cleane) for fouling, y t at the gentlemans dore he might put it on. The Present came, which Iack séeing, made legs to y e gentlewomā, forgetting his band was in his hose, caried a stif neck to & fro to the gentlewoman, & what ere she spake, or where ere she stood, Iack would look but one way, as though his neck had bin starcht: & remember, saies the gentle­woman, you abuse not my message, nor my gift. No fo fo forsooth, saies Iack: and away he goes, & thought he would sée what it was: & as he went, he lift vp the basket lid & lookt: Ah ha, quoth Iack, I sée now it is Almond bu bu butter: along he goes, and séeing the marsh wet & durty, thought to leape a little ditch, and so to goe a cleane hye way: but (O poore Iack) he, basket and all, lay in y e mid­dle of the ditch, vp to the arm-pits in mud; which Iack séeing, gets out, & goes to a riuer by, and washes himselfe first, his band next: where, if it had bin about his neck as it should, it had bene labour well saued: but last his basket of Almond butter, he washt y e durt off so long, that the butter was washt away; which he perceiuing, in that wofull taking comes back, & calles for more bu bu butter. The Gentlewoman seeing how things went, rather laught then vext, because shee was so simple to trust a Foole with matters of trust, & bade him get in to the fire to dry him, & said, Next time she would stay her seruants leysure (who then were abroade) rather then to trust to a rotten staffe. Iack stood singing Derries faire by the fire, with a Iack of good béere: & while he dryed himselfe with­out, wet himselfe within: and there is all the thought hee takes. Thus cleane fooles light still on beastly bargaynes.

How Iack Miller the cleane foole, ventred ouer the Seuerne on foot in great danger.

IN the towne of Esam in Worcestersh Iack Miller being there borne, was much made of in euery place: It hapned that the [Page] Lord Shandoyes Players came to towne, and vsed their pastime there, which Iack not a little loued, especially the Clowne, whom he would imbrace with a ioyfull spirit, and call him Grumball (for so he called himselfe in Gentlemens houses, where he would imi­tate playes, doing all himselfe, King, Clowne, Gentleman, and all: hauing spoke for one, he would suddenly goe in, and agayn re­turn for the other: and stambring so beastly as he did, made migh­ty mirth. To conclude, he was a right innocent, without any vil­lany at all.)

When these Players as I speake of had done in y e towne, they went to Partiar, & Iacke swore he would goe all the world with Grumball, that he would: it was then a great frost new begun, & the Hauen was frozen euer thinly: but heere is the wonder, the gentleman y t kept the Hart (an Inne in the town) whose backside looked to the way that led to the riuer side to Partiar, lockt vp Iack in a chamber next the Hauen, where he might sée the players passe by; and they of the towne loth to lose his company, desired to haue it so: But he, I say, séeing them go by, créeps thorow the window, and sayd, I come to thée, Grumball. The players stood all still to sée further. He got downe very dangerously, and makes no more adoe but ventures ouer the Hauen, which is by the long bridge, as I gesse, some forty yards ouer: tut he made nothing of it; but my heart aked to sée it, and my eares heard the yce crack all the way. When hee was come vnto them, I was amazed, and tooke vp a brickbat (which there lay by) and threw it, which no sooner fell vp­on the yce, but it burst. Was not this strange, that a foole of thirty yeres was borne of that yce, which would not indure the fall of a brickbat? yes, it was wonderfull me thought: but euery one ra­ted him for the déed, telling him it was dangerous. He considered his fault, and knowing faultes should bee punished, he intreated Grumball the Clowne, whom hee so dearely loued, to whip him; but with Rosemary: for that he thought would not smart. But the Players in iest bréecht him, till the bloud came, which he tooke laughing: for it was his maner euer to weepe in kindnesse and laugh in extremes. That this is true, mine eyes were witnesses, being then by.

How Iack the cleane foole sung his song of Derries faire in diuers places, where he made good sport.

IAck Miller welcomed to all places, and bar'd of none, came to a Gentleman, who being at dinner, requested him for mirth, to make him a play, which he did, & to sing Derries faire, which was in this maner: First, it is to be noted, he stutted hugely, and could neyther pronounce b nor p, and thus he began:

As I went to Derries faire, there was I ware of a iolly begger,
Mistris Annis, master Thomas, vnder a tree mending of shoone,
Mistris Annis, master Thomas, hight braue beggers euery one.

And so forward: but the iest was to heare him pronounce braue beggers: & his quality was, after he began his song, no laughing could put him out of it. One standing by, & noting his humour, that b and p plagued him, bade him say this after him, which Iack sayd he would doe.

Buy any flawne, pasties, pudding pies, plumb pottage, or pes­cods? O, it was death to Iack to do it: but like a willing foole hee fell to it: Buy any, buy any fla flawne, p p p pasties, and p p p pud­ding p p pies, p p p &c.

And euer as he hit on the word, he would pat with his finger on his other hand, that more & more it would make a man burst with laughing, almost to sée his action: sometime he would be pronoun­cing one word, while one might go to the dore and come agayne. But euer after, Gentiles would request him to speak that, where before Derries faire was all his song.

He came not long after (to this I am witnes, because my eares heard it) to a Gentlemans not farre from Vpton vpon Seuerne: where at the table (amongst many gallants and Gentlewomen, almost the state of the country) he was to iest and sing, especially they intreated him for his new speach of the pées: which he began in such maner to speake, with driueling and stuttering, that they began mightily to laugh: insomuch that one proper Gentlewo­man among the rest, because shee would not seeme too immodest with laughing: for such is the humour of many, that thinke to make all, when God knowes they marre all: so she strayning her selfe, though inwardly shee laughed hartily, gaue out such an ear­nest of her modesty, that all the Table rung on it. Who is that, [Page] sayes one? Not I, saies another: but by her chéeks you might find guilty Gilberto, where he had hid the brush. This Iest made them laugh more, and the rather that she stood vpon her marriage, and disdayned all the gallants there, who so hartily laught, that an old gentlewoman at the table tooke such a conceyt at it with laugh­ing, that had not the foole bin, which stood (by fortune) at her back, and was her supporter, being in a great swound, shee had fallen to the ground backward: but downe they burst the windowes for ayre, & there was no little boote to bid runne: she was nine or ten dayes ere she recouered that fit on my knowledge. Thus simple Iack made mirth to all, made the wisest laugh but to this day ga­thered little wit to himselfe.

A merry Foole

A description how this merry Foole, being VVill Sommers (the Kings naturall Iester) was, as report telles me.

WIll Sommers, borne in Shropshire, as some say,
Was brought to Greenwitch on a holy day,
Presented to the King, which foole disdayn'd
To shake him by the hand; or else asham'd,
How e're it was, as ancient people say,
With much adoe was wonne to it that day.
Leane he was, hollow eyde, as all report;
And stoope he did too, yet in all the Court
Few men were more belou'd, then was this foole,
Whose merry prate kept with the King much rule,
When he was sad, the King and he would rime.
Thus Will exiled sadnesse many a time.
I could describe him, as I did the rest;
But in my mind I doe not thinke it best:
My reason this, how e're I doe descry him,
So many knew him, that I may belye him.
Therefore to please all people one by one,
I hold it best to let that paynes alone.
Onely thus much, hee was a poore mans friend,
And helpt the widdow often in the end:
The King would euer graunt what he did craue;
For well he knew Will, no exacting knaue:
But wisht the King to doe good deeds great store,
Which causde the Court to loue him more and more.

How the merry foole, Will Sommers, brought his vncle to the King, and got him twenty pound a yere.

WIll Sommers, in no little credit in the Kings Court, walking in the Parke at Greene wich, fell a sléep on the stile that leads into the walke, and being many that would haue gone that way, so much loued him, that they were loth to disease him, but went another way, I, the better sort: but do I make a wonder at that? who sooner then the better sort? for now adayes beggers are the gallants, while Gentles of right bloud séeme tame Ruffians: but note the loue that Will Sommers got: A poore woman séeing him sleep so dangerously, either to fall backward, or hurt his head lea­ning so against a post, fetcht him a cushen & a rope; the one for his head, and the other to bind him to the post, for falling backward: and thus he slept, and the woman stood by, attending as groome of his chamber.

It chanced so, that vpon great occasion, as you shal after heare, Will Sommers vncle came out of Shropshire to seeke him in the Court: a plaine old man of thréescore yeeres, with a buttoned cap, a lockram falling band, course, but clean; a russet coat, a white belt of a horse hide, right horse-coller whit-leather, a close round bréech of russet shéeps wooll, with a long stocke of white kersey, a high shooe with yellow buckles, all white with dust; for that day the good olde man had come thrée and twenty myles on footbacke and horsebacke.

This kind old man comming vp in his countries behalfe, and comming into Gréenwitch, asked the way to the Court: euery one directs him: but one villayne Page directs him by the Court gate, to crosse in a boat ouer to Blackwall, and told him that was the Court. The silly old man willingly payd his penny before hand, and was going ouer: but some that ouer-heard their talke, hindred [Page] his iourney, and laughed at the iest yet pittied his simplicity, and sets him the right way. When he came in and saw such a place, he was amazed and stood gazing: which the Gard and Gentle­women in their windows had much sport to see: at last one asked him what he was?

The olde man answers, A poore Shropshire man, and de­maunds if there were not a Gentleman in the Court dwelling, called by the name of M. William Sommers? (for the Countrey hearing him in fauour in the Court, sayd he was so at least.) The Courtier answered, Heere is such a one indeed. For fault of a worse, sayes he, I am his vncle, & wept with ioy that he should sée him. Mary, saies the man, Ile helpe you to him straight: for I tell you, not any in the Court durst but haue sought him, which this man did, and it was told them, hee was walked into the Parke, while the King slept that hote day: thither went they to seeke him.

All this while my friend William was in counsel with the post, and the cushen stood as arbitrator betwixt them; and the woman by as a witnesse what was sayd and done: At last, came these two & wakened him. William feeling his head soft, What soft post is this, quoth he? A post of mine owne making, sayes the woman. But she lost nothing by her good will: for ere shee left Will Som­mers, she got him to get her sonnes pardon of the King, who was to he hanged three dayes after for piracy: but by Will Sommers meanes he deceyued the hangman. Thus and many good déeds he did to diuers.

The foole being wakened, looks about him, whē he had thanked the woman, asked what newes? Saies the man, Sir, here is your vncle come out of the country to sée you. God a mercy, cousin, saies Will Sommers, I thank thée for thy labour, you cannot vncle me so. Yes truly, sir, I am your owne deare vncle, M. William, and with that wept. Are you my vncle, sayes Will? I sir, sayes he. Are you my vncle, sayes he agayne? I sure, & verily too. But are you my vncle indéed? By my vowes I am, sayes the old man. Then vncle, by my vowes, welcome to the Court, sayes Will Sommers: but what make you here vncle? He vp & tels his comming to him. William takes him by the hand, come, saies he, thou shalt sée Har­ry, vncle, the onely Harry in England, and leads him through the Court, through the great Hall, and vp the great Chamber, to the [Page] Chamber of Presence, and euer and anon cries, Aware, roome for me and my vncle Williams, and knaues, bid him welcome. You are welcome, sir, saies one: you are welcom, sir, sayes another, that the old man thought himselfe no earthly man, they honoured him so much.

But Will ready to enter the Presence, lookes on his vncle, and séeing him not fine enough to looke on the King: Come vncle, saies he, we wil haue this geare mended: leads him to his chamber, and attyres him in his best tooles coate, simply God wot, meaning well to him, and the simple olde man as simply put it on, cappe and all.

Out they come, and vp they came, and to the King they go, who being with the good Lord Treasurer alone merry, séeing them two, how Will had got an other foole, knew there was sport at hand. How now, saies the King, what newes with you? O Harry, sayes hee, this is mine owne vncle, bid him welcome, my owne flesh and bloud. Well, sayd the King, & he is welcom. Harry, saies he, heare me tell thee a tale, & I will make thee rich, and my vncle shall be made rich by thee. William tells the King, how Terrils Frith was inclosed. Terrils Frith, sayes the King? what is that? Why, the Heath where I was borne, called by the name of Ter­rils Frith: now a gentleman of that name takes it all in, & makes all the people beleeue it is his; for it tooke the name from him: so that, Harry, the poore pine, and their cattell are all vndon without thy helpe.

And what should I do, sayes the King? Mary, sayes William, send to the Bishop of Hereford, hee is a great man with Terrill, commaund him to set the Frith at liberty agayne, who is now im­prisoned by his meanes.

And how shall I be rich by that, sayes the King? The poore wil pray for thee, sayes Will Sōmers, and thou shalt be rich in heauen, for on earth thou art rich already. All this was done, & Williams vncle went home, who while he liued, for that deed, was allowed Bayly of the Common, and his place was better then twenty pound a yéere.

How this merry foole Will Sommers, to make the King merry, asked him three questions.

HOwsoeuer these thrée things came in memory, & are for mirth inserted into stage playes, I know not; but that Will Sōmers asked them of the King, it is certayn, there are some will affirme it now liuing in Greenwich. The King vpon a time being extreme melancholy and full of passion, all that Will Sommers could doe, would not make him merry. Ah, sayes hee, this cloud must haue a good showre to clense it; & with that goes behind the Arras. Harry (sayes he) Ile go behind the Arras, & study thée thrée questions, and come againe: sée therefore you lay aside this melancholy muse, & study to answer me. I (quoth the King) they will be wise ones, no doubt. At last, out comes William with his wit, as the foole of the play doth with an antick looke, to please the beholders. Harry, saies he, what is that the lesser it is, the more it is to he feared? The K. mused at it: but to grace the iest the better (for he was in that hu­mour to grace good will, the excellentest Prince on the earth) the King made answere, he knew not. Will made answere, It was a little bridge ouer a déep riuer: at which he smilled, knowing it was fearful indéed. What is the next, William, saies the King? Mary this is next, What is the cleanliest trade in y e world? Mary, sayes the King, I think a Comfitmaker: for he deales with nothing but pure ware, & is attyred cleane in white linnen when he sels it. No Harry, saies Will, you are wide. What say you then, qd. the King? Mary, saies Will, I say a durt-dauber. Out on it, sayes the King, that is the foulest; for he is durty vp to the elbowes. I, sayes Wil, but then he washes them cleane againe, & eates his meat cleanely enough. I promise thée (Wil) saies the K, y u hast a prety foolsh wit. I, Harry, saies he, it wil serue to make a wiser man thē you a foole, me thinks. At this the King laught, & demands the third questiō. Now tell me, sayes Will, if you can, what it is, that being borne without life, head, nose, lip or eye, and yet runnes terribly roaring through y e world till it dies? This is a wonder, qd. the King, & no question, & I know it not. Why, quoth Wil, it is a fart. At this the King laught hartily, & was excéeding merry, and bids Will aske a­ny reasonable thing, & he would graunt it. Thanks, Harry, sayes he, now against I want, I know where to find, for yet I néed no­thing: [Page] but one day I shall: for euery man sées his latter end, but knowe not his beginning. The King vnderstood his meaning, and so pleasantly departed for that season, and Will layes him downe amongst the Spaniels to sléepe.

How Will Sommers the merry foole borrowed ten pounds of Cardinall Wolsey, to pay where the Cardinall owed it.

ON a time appoynted, the King dyned at Windsor, in y e Chap­pell yard, at Cardinall Wolseys, at the same time when hee was building y e admired work of his tombe: at whose gate stood a number of poore people to be serued of almes. When dinner was done within, and as Wil past by, they saluted him, taking him for a worthy personage, which pleased him.

In he comes, and finding the King at dinner, and the Cardinal by attending: to disgrace him that he neuer loued, Harry, saies he, lend me ten pound. What to do, saies the King? To pay thrée or foure of the Cardinals creditors, quoth hee, to whom my word is past; and they are come now for their money. That y u shalt, Wil, quoth he. Creditors of mine, sayes the Cardinall? Ile giue your Grace my head, if any man can iustly aske me a penny. No, saies Will? lend mee ten pounds, if I pay it not where thou owest it, Ile giue thée twenty for it. Doe so, saies the King. That I wil, my Liege, saies the Cardinal, though I know I owe none. With that he lends Wil Sommers ten pound. Will goes to the gate, and distributes it to the poore, and brought the empty bag: there is thy bag againe, sayes he, and thy creditors are satisfied, and my word out of danger.

Who receyued it, sayes the King? the Brewer, or the Baker? Neyther (Harry) sayes Will Sommers: But (Cardinal) answere me in one thing: To whom doest thou owe thy soule? To God (quoth he.) To whom thy wealth? To the poore, saies he. Take thy forfet (Harry) sayes the foole, open confession, opē penance: his head is thine; for to the poore at the gate I payd his debt, which he yéelds is due: or if thy stony heart wil not yéeld it so, saue thy head by denying thy word, & lend it me: thou knowest I am poore, and haue neither wealth nor wit, & what thou lendest to the poore, God wil pay thée ten fold: he is my surety, arrest him; for by my troth [Page] hang me when I pay thée. The King laught at the iest, and so did the Cardinall for a shew, but it grieued him to iest away ten poūd so: yet worse tricks then this Will Sommers serued him after; for indéed he could neuer abide him; and the forfeiture of his head had like to haue bene payd, had he not poysoned himselfe.

How this merry Foole Will Sommers eate a messe of Milke without a spoone.

THere was in the time of Will Sommers, an other artificiall Iester or foole in the Court, whose subtilty heapt vp wealth in rewards & gifts giuen him, which Wil Sommers could neuer a­bide him for: but indeed, lightly one foole cannot indure the sight of another, as Iacke Oates did the Minstrell in the flat fooles story; and one begger is wo, another by the dore should goe.

This Iester was a byg man of a great voyce, long black locks, and a very big round beard. On a time (of purpose) Will Som­mers watcht to disgrace him, when hee was iuggling and iesting before the King. Will Sommers brings vp a messe of milk and a manchet: Harry (sayes he) lend me a spoone. Foole, sayes the Ie­ster, vse thy hand: help hands, I haue no lands; & meanes that say­ing would warrant his grosse féeding. I, sayes Will Sommers, beasts will féede so, and beasts will bid other doe, as they will doe themselues. Will, sayes the King, thou knowest I haue none. True, Harry (sayes he) I know that, therefore I aske thée: and I would (but for doing thée harme) thou hadst no tongue to graunt that foole his next sute: but I must eat my creame some way. The King, the Iester, and all gathers about him to sée him eat it. Wil begins thus to ryme ouer his milke:

This bit, Harry, I giue to thee, and this next bit must serue for me,
Both which Ile eat apace.
This bit (Madam) vnto you, and this bit I my selfe eat now,
And all the rest vpon thy face,

Meaning the foole, in whose beard & head the bread and milk was thick sown, & his eyes almost put out. Wil Sommers he gets him gone for feare. This lusty Iester forgetting himselfe, in fury drawes his dagger, & begins to protest. Nay, saies the King, are ye so hote, clap him fast: and though he drawes his dagger here, yet [Page] let him put it vp in another place. The poore abused Iester was iested out of countenance, & lay in durance a great while, till Wil Sommers was fayne to (after he had broke his head, to giue him a playster) get him out agayne: but neuer after came my Iuggler in the Court more, so néere the King, being such a dangerous man to draw in the presence of.

A very Foole

❧ How Iohn of the Hospitall, the very foole, walkt and preacht in Paules Church, and was bidden to dinner.

THis innocent Ideot, that neuer harmed any, before I enter a­ny further, I will let you vnderstand in two words, how hee came to be of the Hospitall of Christs Church: Some certayne yeres since (but not a few yeres) there dwelt a poore blind woman in Bow lane in London, called by the name of blind Alice, who had this foole of a child to lead her, in whose house he would sit, ey­ther on the staires, or in a corner, & sing Psalmes, or preach to himselfe of Peter and Paul, because hee delighted to goe to Sermons with blind Alice, & heard the Preacher talke of them. It chanced the Worshipful of the City (good Benefactors to the poore) to take her into Christes Hospitall, with whome Iohn went as a guide to lead her; who being olde, after she dyed, he was to be turned out of doore: but the City more desirous to pity, then to be cruell, placed him as a fostered fatherlesse chylde; and they did well in it too, seeing hee was one of Gods creatures, though some difference in persons.

Well, to go forward in what I promised you: Iohn went to S. Paules Church in London, to méete with M. Nowel the Deane, whose bounty to him was great, & the toole knew it well ynough, whom he would duely attend after his preaching; for euer he gaue him at their méeting a groat, and he would bring it to his Nurse: Well, M. Deane preached not that day: whereupon Iohn stands in a corner with boyes flocking about him, and begins to preach himselfe, holding vp his muckender for his booke, and reades his text.

It is written (sayes he) in the 3. chapter of Paul to the Corin­thians, [Page] Brethren, you must not sweare (for that was lightly al his text) then thus he begins: Whereas, or whereunto it is written: for because you must beléeue it: for surely else we are no Christiās. Write y e sermon (boy) sayes he (as the Hospital boyes do:) & then one must write on his hand, with his finger, and then hee would go forward thus: The world is proud, and God is angry if we do not repent. Good friend giue me a pin, or good friend giue mée a poynt, as it came in his mind: and so sucking vp his driuell and breath together, would pray and make an end: which being done, who bids me home to dinner now, saies Iohn? The boyes y t knew his qualities, answers, that do I, Iohn. Thank ye (friend) sayes he, & goes home to his owne dwelling at Christs Church. But at this time one wealthy Marchants son, to make his father merry, bade him home to dinner indéed, & will be, or nill he, he must goe with him: with much ado Iohn went, & comming into the house, simply sits him downe (as his vse was) in the chimney corner. It was in Lent, when pease pottage bare great sway, & when euery pease must haue his ease. Iohn beholding pease pottage on the fire, thoughr on his Nurse; for he was all sauing for her: & when the roome was empty, forgetting what his pocket was made of, thogh of leather, yet not sufficient; but a good helpe from further harme, as you shall heare: he séeing no body by, stopt to the pot, and put a great ladle of pottage into his pocket, and pittiously burnt his thigh; and but that the leather was thick, it had bin worse: for if it had bene Canuas, it had spoyled all.

Iohn féeling something burne, leapt and cryed: they ran in to sée the matter why he cryed, but more & more he exclaimed, I burn I burne, & got out of doores, and neuer leaues till he came to his Nurse, who quickly shifted him, & mended what was amisse. But the iest was to sée the folks of the house, who wondring what he ayled, could not deuise what the matter was: but a begger in the entry, who beheld all, told the truth of the matter, who lost a good almes for his labour. But thus simple Iohn by his owne folly, dyed the inside of his pocket, pease pottage tawny, and set a good scarlet red vpon his thigh.

How Iohn towled the Bell for his Nurses Chicken.

GAffer Homes being Sexton of Christs Church, would often set Iohn a worke, to towle the bell to prayers or burials, wherin he delighted much: it chaunced so, y t comming through the church, and hauing nothing to do, séeing the bel so easy to come by, towles it. The people (as the custome is) repaires to church (as they vsed) to know for whom it was. Iohn answers them stil, For his Nur­ses chicken. They sayd, Wherefore towles the bell, Iohn? I know not. When dyed hee? Euen now. Who, Iohn? who? My Nurses chicken, quoth he, and laughes. This iest was known to euery neighbour thereabouts, who sent to bid him leaue towling: but it was not his custome, till good man Homes tooke the rope from him, that gaue the rope to him: though goodmā Homes gaue him one rope, he had forgotten that Iacks wit was not so good, to remember any thing.

Well, there stood Iacke towling from foure a clock to six, good­man Homes being from home, who was not a little vext at Iohns diligence: but he layd the rope euer after, where Iohn could not reach it.

How this very foole Iohn of the Hospital, sold a gentlemans paire of boots for a groat, that cost the Cobler fiue shillings.

IOhn was of this humour, aske him what his coate cost him, he would say a groate: what his cap, band or shirt cost, all was a groat: aske what his beard cost, and still a groat: So one Fry­day morning there was a Gentleman to ride downe into War­wickshire, about payment of twenty pound vpon a bonds for­feyture: the time was next day by Sunne set, it was no boote to bid him pull on his bootes and be gone. Well, he made haste, and went to do it without bidding too, & yet for all his haste, his boots were seame-rent, and must haue a stitch or two néedes: he sends them to a Cobler, next to Christs Church gate in Newgate mar­ket, who was diligent to mend them straight: and as he had done, comes Iohn of the Hospital to him (as his vse was) to carry home his worke, and he sends Iohn home with the boots: As Iohn was [Page] going through Iuy lane, a Countrey fellow that knew him not, méets him, and séeing the boots, What shall I giue thée for them, sayes he? Iohn (who sold euery thing for a groate) asked a groate, The fellow turnes them & winds them vpō that reasonable price, and seeing it was a good pennyworth, giues him a groat suddenly, and departs with the boots. Iohn, who vsed to take a great of M. Deane, and would carry it to his Nurse, did so now with his mo­ney. She asked him where he had it? He sayd, For boots: but shee not knowing his mind, forgot the iest, and tell to worke againe as he found her.

The forfeiture of twenty pound so hammered in this Gentle­mans head, that he thought euery houre two, till he had his boots, and mused they came not from mēding, sends for them presently. One comes sweating, zoones (Cobler) the boots; & being at worke very busy, I, sayes he, they are mended and caryed home. Another comes, Boots, boots. Would the boots were in your belly, quoth the Cobler, once againe they are gone home. By & by comes the gen­tleman in his white linnen boot-hose ready to the purpose. A poxe of lazy Coblers, saies hee, my boots; shall I forfet a bond for your pleasure? The Cobler puts off his considering rap, why sir, sayes he, I sent them home but now. By whome, sayes he? By Iohn, blew Iohn, sayes the Cobler. The gentleman he runs home one way, the Cobler he another way: wel, no boots were to be had: the gentleman he stayed, and the Cobler he prayed; but all this while the boots delayd and came not.

The Cobler séeks Iohn at his Nurses, thinking he forgot him­selfe, and went home? wel, true it was, & there he was indéed, who after the matter was examined, the boots were knowne to be sold by Iohn for a groat. The Cobler séeing no remedy, because y e gen­tleman was in haste, giues him fiue shillings with a heauy hey he, and lost foure shillings eyght pence by the bargayne: but the Cob­ler would neuer let Iohn carry home his ware more: nay, sayes the Cobler, if my mony can be booted and ride post it by fiue shillings at a time, it is no boote for me to say. Vtinam: but the next bootes Ile make a page of my owne age, and carry home my selfe: for I sée fooles will afford good pennyworthe.

How this very foole Iohn, lost himselfe on Easter Munday at the Spittle Sermon, amongst all the people.

ON Easter Munday the auncient custome is, that all the chil­dren of the Hospitall goe before my Lord Maior to the Spit­tle, that the world may witnesse the workes of God and man, in maintenance of so many poore people, the better to stirre vp liuing mens mindes to the like good, if God should call them: amongst which, the children of y e Hospitall leads on; before whom, as chief Captayn, goes Iohn; whom to behold the people flock apace, and the weather being hote, their thrusting made Iohn in such a hote temper, that he was extreme dry. Iohn considering he was like to fast till dinner, yet kéeps on his ranke till he came to the Spittle, where the cannes did walke apace by his nose, but neuer came at him, which made him the more eager of drink. Well, while the children were placing, Iohn stood to make water, & séeing a Gen­tlemans dore open, slips in, and the houshold without, standing to sée my Lord Maior passe by, not regarded him: but he, whole nose had wit to smell good beere, got downe into the Seller, & fell to it tipple square, till he was lost and quite drunke, & layd himselfe to sléepe behind two barrels; & vnseene slept all that day. In the Ser­mon time he was mist, sought and not found, inquired after, but he was a more foole that sought the foole. The afternoone came, the gentlemans Butler with other good fellowes fell to carrouse soundly, till the Butler was layd vp too: heere was a Seller wel fraught with fooles: but all this while the Beadles fayled not to search vp & downe the city; yea, the cryer cryed a man child of the age of two & thirty yeres; for at least he was so olde, yet one saies he had not wit enough to looke to himselfe.

But returne we to the Seller: the two drunkards wak't both together. Iohn he calls, Nurse, Nurse: which the Butler (halfe a­wake) hearing, thought the deuill had bin playing bo péepe with him: but when he looked & beheld him, he was amazed at it, imma­gining how it was, and so secretly sent him to the Hospital, lest he were blamed for his negligence in looking to the dore no better the day before.

A number of things more Iohn did, which I omit, fearing to [Page] be tedious: not long after he dyed, and was old; for his beard was full of white haires, as his picture in Christs Hospitall (now to be séene) can witnesse: buryed he i [...] is, but with no Epitaph. Mee thinks, those y t in his life time could afford him his picture, might with his graue yéeld so much as foure lyues, that people may see where he lyes, whom they so wel knew: and if I might perswade, his Motto should be thus, and to this effect:

Heere vnder sleepes blew Iohn, that giues
Food to feede wormes, yet he not liues:
You that passe by, looke at his graue,
And say, your selues the like must haue.
Wise men and fooles all one end makes:
Gods will be done, who giues and takes.

Thus (Gentlemen) as the kinde Hostesse salutes her ghestes, saying, You sée your cheere, and you are welcome: Euen to say I, desiring that you will pardon my folly, in writing of folly: which folly can no way be excused but by your fauour: so as Caesar sayd, Veni, vidi, vici: I am bolde to busie your brayne with any darke Enigma. Wherfore if my pardon may be purchased, then so: if not, the worst is, you will say the Authour may kéepe his sixe fooles company.

FINIS.

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