[A nest of ninnies Simply of themselues without compound. Stultorum plena sunt omnia. By Robert Armin.]

A nest of Ninnies.

THe world wanton sick, as one s••n setting on sinne (in morning pleasures, noone banquets, after riots, nights moriscoes, midnights modicoms, and abundance of trash trickt vp to all turbulent reuellings) is now leaning on her elbow, deuising what Doctour may deliuer her, what Phisicke may frée her, and what anti∣dotes may antissipate so dangerous a Dolemma, shee now begins to grow bucksome as a lightning before death, and gsd shée will, riches her chamberlaine could not kéepe her in, beauty her bed-fellow was bold to perswade her, and sléepy securitie mother of all mischiefe, tut her prayers was but méere prattle: out she would, tucks vp her trinkets like a Dutch Tannikin sliding to market on the ise and away she flings, and whither thinck you, not to the Law, that was too loud, not to the Church that was too proud, not to the Court, that was too stately, nor to the Cittie, shée was there lately, nor to the Campe, that was too kéene, no nor to the Country where seldome séene: shée daines her a friendly eye: but of all into a Philosophers cell, who because he was al∣wayes poking at Fortune with his forefinger, the wise wit∣tely namde him Sotto, as one besotted, a grumbling sir, one that was wise enough, and fond enough, and solde all for a glasse prospectiue, because hée would wisely sée into all men but himselfe, a fault generall in most, but such was his, who thus busied was tooke napping by the weale publike, who smiles vpon him with a wapper eye, a iealous countenance, and bids him all haile mistresse (sayes Sotto) I will not say welcome, because you come ill to him that would bée alone,

but since you are come, looke for such entertainement as my folly fits you with, that is, sharp sauce with bitter dyet, no swéetnes at al, for that were to mingle your pils with sugar, no, I am all one, Winter in the head, and frost in the foot, no Summer in me but in my smiles, and that as soone gone as smiles, the bauble I play with, is mens estates, which I so tumble from hand to hand, that weary with it I sée (glut∣tingly and grieuedly, yet mingled with smiles too) in my glasse prospectiue, what shall become of it: the world cur∣ling her locks with her fingers, and anone scratching her braine with her itching pin, as one little regarding answeres what then: marry sayes Hodge ile show thée. Sée world in whose bosome euer hath abundance béene powred, what thy imps of impietie bée, for as they (I) all for the most part, as these which I will present to thée in my glasse prospectiue, mark them well, and sée what thou bréedest in thy wanton∣nesse, sixe Children like thée, not the Father that begat them, where were they nursed, in folly? fed with the flottin milke of nicetie and wattonnesse, curdled in thy wombe of water and bloud, vnseasoned, because thy mother bearing temper was euer vntrue, farre from the rellish of right bréede, and it is hard that the taste of one Apple should distaste the whole lumpe of this defused Chaios, but marke me and my glasse, sée into some (and in them thy selfe) whom I haue discride, or describde these sixe parts of folly in thée, thou shalt sée them as cleare as day, how mistie thy clouds be, and what ranck∣nesse raines from them.

The world queasie stomackt, as one fed with the earths nectar and delicates with the remembrance of her owne ap∣petite squinies at this and lookes as one scorning, yet behol∣ding what will follow, at length espies a tall blacke man, ••earing like himselfe, a foole in motley, muckinder hunge, euer and anon wipes his nose, at whose girdle hangde a small black iack of a quart, his vsual draft, his finger on his tongue as if he blamde Nature that cut not the strings of it in more large manner, but hindred by defect hée still did gesse at

wisedome, though seldome attaining it. Well, he was gouty, bigge, poste legged, and of yéeres something many, as in the right sequell followeth.

This Foole was tall, his face small, His beard was big and blacke, His necke was short, inclind to sport, Was this our dapper Iack. Of nature curst, yet not the worst, Was nastie, giuen to sweare, Toylesome euer, his endeauour Was delight in Beare. Goutie great, of conceit Apt, and full of fauour, Curst, yet kinde, and inclinde To spare the wise mans labour. Knowne to many, loude of any, Cause his trust was truth, Seene in toyes, apt to ioyes, To please with tricks of youth, Writh'd i'th knees, yet who sees Faults that hidden be? Calfe great, in whose conceit Lay much game and glee. Bigge i'th small, ancle all, Footed broad and long, In Motly cotes, goes Iacke Oates, Of whom I sing this song.

The world ready to disgorge at so homely a present, askt if it were possible such breathde hers to commaund, oh saith our Philosophicall Hodge, heare his iests, and what an vn∣knowne habite liues in him, then returne iudgement, marke our application.

IAck Oates sitting at Cardes all alone, was dealing to himselfe at Uide ruffe (for that was the game he ioyed in) and as he spide a Knaue: Ah knaue art there, quoth he: When he spide a King, King by your leaue, quoth he: if hee spied a Quéene Quéene Richard art come, quoth he: and would knéele downe and bid God blesse her Maiestie (mean∣ing indéede the then Quéene, whom he heard Sir William Hollis his Maister so much to pray for: But héere is the Iest, Iack as I say, being at Cardes all alone, spying a Knaue, and saying, Ah Knaue art there: A simple Seruingman be∣ing in the Hall waighting his maisters comming, walking by, & 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, took Iacks part, so that in short time they two fell together by the eares: who being par∣ted, Iack Oates giues them each one a hand, and so takes them into the Buttry to drinke: the Knight comes in, seeing the Hall not yet quiet, askt the mateer: Iack comes, Ile tell thée Willy, quoth hée: As I was a playing at Cardes, one sée∣ing I wonne all I playd for, would néedes haue the Knaue frommée, which as very a Knaue as hée séeing, would néeds 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 Iack, and your drinke Sir knaue made them friends. Sir William laughing, departed.

NEwes came to Sir William that such a Nobleman was comming to his house, great prouision was made for his welcome: and amongst all Iack Oates put on his new Mot∣ley coate, cleane Muckender, and his new shooes. Much pre∣paration, was made, which were too long to tell, for Ile as∣sure 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 Lady, as is the Courtly custom, was kist of this Noble man: Iack Oates séeing him kisse his Ladie, on the sodaine giues the Earle a sound box 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 suf∣fer it, but putting it vp, left him and entred the house. Iack séeing they were sad, and he had done amisse, had this wit in simplicitie to shadow it: he comes after and askt the Earle wher his hand was? Here (quoth he) 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: Iack thought hée had mended the matter, but now he was whipt indéede, and had his payment altogether. Thus fooles thinking to be wise, become flat foolish, but all is one, Iack neuer repented him.

AT a Christmas time, when great logs furnish the Hall fire: when Brawne is in season, & indéede all Reueling is regarded: this gallant knight kept open house for all com∣mers, where béefe, béere, and bread was no niggard. Amongst all the pleasures prouided, a Noyse of Minstrells, and a Lin∣colnshire Bagpipe was prepared: the Minstrels for the great Chamber, the Bagpipe for the Hall: the Minstrels to serue vp the Knights meate, and the Bagpipe for the common dauncing. Iack could not endure to bée in the common Hall, for indéede the foole was a little proudly minded, and there∣fore was altogether in the great Chamber at my Ladies or Sir Williams elbow. One time being very melancholy, the Knight to rouse him vp, saide, hence foole, Ile haue another foole, thou shalt dwell no longer with me: Iack to this an∣swered little, though indéede ye could not anger him worse: A Gentleman at the boord answers, if it please you sir Ile bring ye another foole soone: I pray ye do (quoth the knight) and he shall bée welcome. Iack fell a crying, and departed mad and angry down into the great Hall: and being strong armed (as before I described him, caught the Bagpipes from

the piper, knockt 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 Knight knowing by Iack, that something was amisse, sends downe to sée: newes of this iest came, the knight angry (but to no purpose, for he loued the foole aboue all, and that the houshold knew, else Iack had paid for it, for the common peoples dauncing was spoiled) sent downe Iack, and bad him out of his sight: Iack cryes hang sir Willy, hang sir Willy & departes.

Sir William not knowing how to amend the matter, cau∣sed the Piper to be carried to bed, who was very ill: and said I would now giue a gold noble for a foole indéede to an∣ger him throughly: one of the Minstrels whispers a Gentle∣man in the eare, and said, if it pleased him hée would, where∣at the Gentleman laught: the Knight demaunded the reason of his laughing, I pray you tell mée (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 poynts behaue himselfe naturally like such a one: it is good sayes the Knight) and I prethée good fellow about it, and one goe call Iack Oates hether, that wée may hold him with talk in the meane time.

The simple minstrell thinking to worke wonders, as one ouerioyed at the good opportunitie, threw his Fiddle one way, his stick another and his case the third way, and was in such a case of ioy, that it was no boot to bid him make hast, but proud of the knights fauor away he flings, as if he went to tak possession of some great Lordship, but what ere he got by it, I am sure his Fiddle with the fall fell in péeces, which grieued his maister so that in loue and pittie he laughed till the water ran downe his chéekes: beside this good knight was like to kéepe a bad Christmas, for the Bagpipes and the Musike went to wracke, the one burnt, and the other broken.

In comes Iack Oates and (being merry) told the knight and the rest, that a Country-wench in the Hall had eaten Garlicke and there was seauentéene men poysoned with kissing her: for it was his vse to iest thus: by and 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. Hée is welcome sayes the Knight, for I am weary of this foole, goe bid him come in, Iack bid him welcome: they all laught to sée Iacks colour come and goe, like a wise man ready to make a good end: What say you to this saies the Knight? not one word sayes Iack. They tinged with a knife at the bottome of a glasse, as toulling the bell for the Foole, who was spéechlesse and would dye (then which, nothing could more anger him) but now the thought of the new come Foole so much mooued him, that hée was as dead as a doore nayle: standing on tip-toe looking toward the doore to behold his ariuall, that he would put his nose out of ioynt.

By and by enters my artificiall Foole in his old cloaths, making wry mouthes, dauncing, & looking a squint: who when Iack beheld, sodainely he flew at him, and so violent∣ly 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 Minstrell with a fall had his head broke to the skull against the ground, his face scratcht, that which was worst of all his left eye put out, and withall so sore brused, that he could neyther stand nor goe: the knight caused him to bée laide with the Pyper, who was also hurt in the like conflict, who lackt no good looking to, because they miscarryed in the Knights seruice: but euer after Iack Oates could not endure to heare any talke of another Foole to be there, and the Knight durst not make such a motion. The Pyper and the Min∣strel being in bed together, one cryed O his backe and face: the other, O his face and eye: the one cryed O his Pype: the other, O his fiddle, Good musicke or broken consorts

they agrée 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 foole naturall, and a flat foole artificiall, one that did his kinde, and the other who foolishly followed his owne minde: on which two is written this Rime.

Naturall Fooles, are prone to selfe conceipt: Fooles artificiall, with their wits lay wayte To make themselues Fooles, liking the disguise, 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 Iack Oates. All such say I, that vse flat Foolerie, Beare this, beare more; this flat Fooles companie.

IAck Oates could neuer abide the Cooke, by reason that he would scald him out of the Kitchin. Upon 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 endeuoured to doe, and sent to Lincolne of purpose to the Apothecaries for choyse Quinces: Iack 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 all 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 Po∣thecaries, which shée 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 séeking Quinces, for she was faine to buy them ready preserued, & to make a vertue of necessity that way. Sir William séeing

it was so, said it should bée as well eaten, and 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, hée tolde them it was a Quince Pie, which he would haue eaten: the day drew on, and the Gentiles were come, and all was in a redinesse, and still Iack forgat not the Pie, but stood faintly sicke, and refused his meate: the Knight sory that his best dish fayled him, made no small account of his well fare, askt him: Iack, sayes hée, Where lyes thy paine? In my mouth sayes hée (meaning indéede his mouth hung for the Quince Pie) a Barber was sent for from a Market towne hard by, who searcht his mouth and could finde no cause of paine: but sir William thinking the Foole wanted wit to tell his griefe (though not wit to play the théefe) bad the Barber depart, as king Iack what hée would eate? He sayd nothing: What he would drinke: Hée said 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 lie downe? still answer∣ing no; but would stand 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 sée he wanted nothing. Iack stand∣ing still, groand & sayd: If he dyed, he would forgiue all the world but the Cooke. Hang Foole (sayes the Cooke) I care not for thée, die to morrow if thou wilt, and so follow∣ed his busines. They knockt to the Dresser, and the dinner went vp: Iack had a shéepes eye in the Ouen: anone the second course came, the Pie was drawne, set by & among other backt meates was to be sent vp, but wanting Suger, stept aside to the spicerie to fetch it, and Iack in the meane time catcheth the Pie and claps it vnder his coate, and so runs through the Hall into the Yard, where was a broad Moate, and as he ran, the hot Pie burned his belly: I sayes Iack are yée so hot Sir Willies Pie. Ile quence. ye anone sir

Willies Pie sayes he, and straight very subtilly leapes in∣to the Moate vp to the arme pits, and there stood eating the Pie. The Cooke comes in, misses the Pie, withal misses Iack, 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: shée tels sir William how Iack Oates had stolen the Pie. Iack was searcht for, and anon found in the Moate. It was told the Knight where the Foole was eating it: Gentlemen (quoth he) we are dissurnished of our feast, for Iack my Foole is in my Moate vp to the arme-pits eating of the Pie. They laught and ran tothe windows to sée the iest: there they might see Iack eate, the Cooke call, the people hallow, but to no pur∣pose: Iack fed & féeding gréedily (more to anger the Cooke, then disapoint sir William) euer as hée burnt his mouth with hast dipt the Pie in the water to coole it: O sayes the Cooke it is Sir Williams owne Pie sirra: O sayes Iack hang thée and Sir Willy too I care not, it is mine now: saue Sir William some sayes one, saue my Lady some sayes a∣nother: by Iames not a bit sayes Iack, and eate vp all, to the wonder of the beholders, who neuer knew him eate so much before, but drincke ten times more: at length out comes Iack dropping dry, and goes to get fire to dry him: the Knight and the rest all laught a good at the iest, not know∣ing how to amend it. Sir William sends for the Cooke, who came vp with a sorrowfull hart, and lamentably complay∣ning, said it was the Knights fault for placing him in the Kitchin, where he neuer was but hée did like villany. The Knight not satisfied with the Cookes answere, presently dis∣charges him of his seruice, and sent him to liue else where: goe sayes he, trusse vp your trinkets and be gone, the Cooke séeing no remedy departed.

Iack being dry vp he comes, and knowing he had offen∣ded, tels a iest (for it was his manner so to doe) how a yong man brake his codpéece point, and let all bée séene that God

sent him, or such fooleries, but that was not enough, and to chide him was to make of things worse then twas, and to no purpose neither. Sir William demaunded why hée eate the Pye: because I had a stomacke sayes Iack: would nought else serue sayes the Knight but my Pye? No Willy sayes he thou would not be angry then, and the Cooke had not béene turnd away: but all is well thou art rich inough to buy more. The Knight perceiuing the fooles enuie, sent for the Cooke, and did let him enioy his place againe. So all parties well pleased but the yong big-bellied woman, who perchance longed for this long looked for Pye, but if she did though long lookt for comes at last, yet they shoote short that ayme to hit this marke, for Iack Oates had eaten the Pye and serued himselfe. This was a flat foole, yet now & then a blinde man may hit a Crow, and you know a flooles boult is soone shot, out it goes happen how it will, had Iack kept his owne counsell the Cooke had béene still out of seruice, and had béene reuenged, but now being in his place againe may liue to cry quittance for the Quince Pye.

These quoth the world, are pretty toyes: I quoth the Phylosopher, but marke the applyance. By Iack Oates is Morrally meant, many discribed like him, though not Fooles naturall yet most artificiall, they carde hence what their Parents spin, and doe such Apish tricks, that rapine, ruine and a thousand inconueniences follow. By the knight is meant maintainers of Foolery: by the Hall, the Inne where the cards of vanity causeth many to be be∣witcht as appeares in the seruing men, who busie in others braules are as easily made friends as they were set toge∣ther by the eares. By the second is meant reach at Stars, ayming at honour, lighting somtime on the eare of memo∣ry, but ill taken because badly ment, is rewarded with a deserued whipping. By the third is cald to question most that musically fret their time out in idle baubling, and will become artificiall Fooles to outhraue Fooles indéede, but stick often in their owne quick-sands, and are got out

with repentance. But the fourth and last shewes the deuou∣ring of deuotions dyet, how euer come by yet they will stand vp to the arme-pits in daunger rather then to lacke their wils, to slacke or rebate the edge of their appetites: with this the world a little humde and haide, said shée was not pleased that such liued and did promise some amend∣ment, but desired to sée further.

NOw our Philosophicall Poker pokte on, and poynted to a strange shew, the flat Foole not so tall, but this fat Foole as low, whose discription runs in méeter thus:

This Fat Foole was a Scot borne, brought vp In Sterlin, twenty miles from Edinborough: Who being but young, was for the King caught vp▪ Ser'ud this Kings Father all his life time through. A yard high and a nayle no more his stature, Smooth fac't, fayre spoken, yet vnkinde by nature. Two yards in compasse and a nayle I reade 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 legs 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.

The world smiling at this Rime describing so vnséemly a portackt, gaue leaue to the rest, and desired greatly to be satisfied with somthing done, as one longing to know what so round trust a lump could performe, the poking arts mai∣ster tels his doing thus.

VVHen the King and Nobles of Scotland had wel∣commed Iemy Camber to the Court, who was their countryman borne in Sterlin, but twenty miles from Edin∣borough, this Kings birth towne, as Greenwich was our late Quéenes. They reasoned with him to vnderstand his wit, which indéed was iust none at all, yet merry & pleasing, whereat the King reioyced, and séeing he was so fat, caused his Doctors and Phisitians to minister to him, but Phisick could not alter nature, and he would neuer be but a S. Vin∣cents Turnip, thicke & round. Wherefore the Doctors per∣swaded his grace, that the purging of the Sea was good for him: Well nothing was vndone that might bée done to make Iemy Camber a tall little slender man. When yet he lookt like a Norfolke dumpling, thicke and short. Well to Léeth was he sent, which is the harbour towne of such ships as ariue at Edinborough: néerer they cannot come, which is some mile from the Citie. 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 Huntly was sent with him to sea, to accompany him, so high he was estéemed with the King. Who hearing the Ordi∣nance goe off, would aske what doe they now? Marry saies the Earle, they shoot at our enimies: O sayes hée, hit I pray God, Againe they discharge, what do they now quoth hée? marry now the enimie shoots at vs. O misse I pray

God (sayes 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 shée done? did she hit or misse? she hath hit sayes the other, better she had mist sayes the first: and so long time after this Jest was in memory, yea I haue heard it my selfe, and some will talke of it at this day. Well to Sea they put on a faire Sun-shine day, where Iemy stood fearefull of euery calme billow, where it was no boote to bid him tell what the ship was made of, for he did it deuoutly: but sée the chance, a sodaine flaw or gust rose, the winds held strong East and by West, and the ship was in great danger, insomuch as the Earle, Maister and all began to feare the weather: by and by a stronger gale blew and split their maine Maste, and gaue their ship a mighty leake, insomuch as the crack made them all scréek out: which Iemy hearing was almost dead with feare: some fell to pumping, others on their knées to praying. But the fat Foole séeing themselues in this daunger, thought there was no way but one with them, and was halfe dead with feare, in the end the winde tur∣ned, and the raging of the Sea began to cease: I warrant thée now (quoth the Maister) Iemy wée shall not bée drow∣ned: I, will ye warrant vs, sayes the Foole? I sayes the Maister, Ile giue thée my ship for thy Chaine, if wée bée drowned: beare witnesse my Lord sayes hée, a plaine bar∣gaine, and with-that threw the Maister his Chaine, who would haue giuen it to the Earle, but ioy of their escape made him delight in the Iest, and therefore the Maister in∣ioyed his bargaine. With much adoe they attained thether againe, where the king fearefull before, awayted their land∣ing now, and séeing Iemy not a iot lesse of body then hée was (onely lightned of his Chaine) how now, quoth hée, how dost thou man? O sayes Iemy, well now King, but ill had not the Maister béene, who warranted our liues for my Chaine, the best bargaine that euer I made, for no way

could I haue béen a looser: how sayes the King? marry Ile tell thée King, quoth he, say we had béene drowned, his ship was forfeit to me for my chaine, Earle Huntly was a wit∣nesse to the bargaine: and now we are not drowned, for my chaine did warrant our liues of the master: 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 féeling of sence and on a sodaine cryed out main∣ly for his chaine againe, which was restored to him by the Maister, but hée lost nothing by that, for hée attayned to a suit, as the story sayes, that he had beene thrée yéeres about. Thus the King and Nobles went to Edenborough merrily talking of their feare and welfare.

IEmy this fat foole vsed euery day to goe from the Abbey in the low towne, vp the hill into the Citie of Edenbo∣rough, and one euening aboue the rest, he met with a bro∣ken Uirgin, one that had had a barne (as there they are knowne by their attire) wearing a loose kerchiefe 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 thée for a good sallet? faire sir sayes the wench (for shée knew him for the Kings foole, and she could not please him better then to call him fayre sir) you giue me an atchison now he hauing nothing but sixe French Crownes about him, canst thou change mée a Crowne sayes he? yea sir sayes shée: he giues her a French Crowne, & she gaue him a sallet for it, & shée went her way.

Iemy thinks it was much to giue a crowne for that, for which she did demaund but an atchison: which in our money is but thrée farthings he runnes after and sayes, she had his fayrest crowne, but sayes he giue mée that and take your choyce 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, and 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, and inuites the King to a déere dish, and made him laugh heartely at the iest: The King calles for Uiniger to his Sallet, because his swéet meate should haue sower sauce, and perswaded him it was well bought, otherwise if the foole had repented his bargaine, it was his manner to cry for his mony againe, yet with it all the Court could not quiet him.

BEtwixt Edenborough Abbey the Kings place & Léeth, there stands an euen plaine gréene Meddow, in which the King vsed most of his sports: amongst which hée rode thether 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 meruailous hot day. O (saies Iemy) how cold the weather is (so wise hée was that hée scarce knew hot from colde No sayes the King it is hot, looke how I sweat. No sayes Iemy the Sunne blowesvery colde. No sayes the King, the winde shines very hot. The Foole was almost angry to be crossed and said, hée would be hanged at night if hée did sweat that day: with this merry talke they rode on: but one of the Kings footemen hearing this, told the King at their returne hée would make his Grace laugh hartely: so the King very gallantly ranne that time, and neuer mist the gloue, and so did the Lords: which Iemy séeing said it was nothing to doe: The King bad him runne, he did so: but the Gloue lay still, and Iemy could not doe it.

The Kings footman (that watcht to do him a good turne) said, Iemy could doe it better blindfold: what can he quoth the King, I will neuer beléeue it: you shall sée 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 doe, was desirous to make tryall, so was blinded with a scarfe, while another tooke vp the gloue, and was ready for the iest: Iemy runs, now for my Maistris saies hée, they

all shout aloud & cry rarely well done, and one vnblindes him, while another puts the gloue on the speare. So simple hée was, that he thought it was strange, & bragged all that day not a little, the king did alight and went to drinke wine at the Lord H••mes house, and Iemy went with him, while the footeman 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 to Edenborough, sayes the King what say you to the weather now Iemy? mée thinks it is hotter then it was? nay it is colder sayes he for I begin to sweat.

The trotting of this Mule made the mingled confection lather so, that it got into his bréeches, & wrought vp to the crowne of his head, & 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 sée him in that taking: now you must be hanged quoth the King as your bargaine was, for you sweat very much: what remedie sayes hée, I am content to be hanged but while I liue after, Ile neuer be∣léeue cold weather will make on sweat: no more will I sayes the King, but hot weather will. Not or cold, sayes Iemy, I am warme now I am sure, I would I were ouer head and eares in some riuer to coole mée So simple he was that he knew not whether it was the sunne or the winde made him sweat: at night the King caused him to be washt and perfumed, yet he was scarce swéet twentie dayes after. Thus this fat foole chaft, but not in his owne grease.

Iemy, who was as you haue heard, a tall low man, and was swift of foote, on a time challenged the Kings best foot-man, for a wager to run with him from the Abbey vp the hil to Cannegate (which stood entring to Edenborough, as Ludgate doth to London, and the Kings place about Temple-barre) the King being told of this challenge, thought it would be good sport to sée it performed, still per∣swaded Iemy to dare his Foote-man, who before denyed

him, and knew Fooles would talke any thing though far vnfit to performe any thing. Still the King would say hée was made nimble to runne, and askt euery Noble-mans iudgement, who likewise soothed the King: it was so that they made him beléeue hée was swift of foote, that I think Iemy in the end perswaded himselfe, that none but fat men could run well, and nimble men being light would fal soonest, considering that light things being of small substance not féeling themselues, would surely fall. But here is the sport, the Foote-man séeing it was the Kings pleasure to sée the wager tryed, dared him, which made Iemy mad, that he would run with him from Edenborough to Bar∣wicke (which was forty myles) in one day, a thing as vn∣possible as to pull downe a Church in one houre, and to build it againe in another: 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 hée would neuer haue come home againe: when the King heard euery houre hée was comming, and still as hée in∣treated euery passenger to let him ride, by the kings watch in the high way, they had warning giuen to the contrary: for be was seauen dayes going fiue myle: then iudge how long he would be a running fortie? you will muse how hée did for meate all the time: Ile tell you hée fasted all day, and went supperlesse to bed, but being in his first sound sléepe, meate was brought and laide by him, and a Choppin of Wine (for so they call it there) which made him at his com∣ming to Court tell the King, heauen was gentler then earthly men would shew him no fauour, neyther to ride nor féede him, when he was euery night cast into a sound sléepe, then when he wakt hée was sure of meate from heauen to féede on: when the meate came from the Kings kitchin at Edenborough Abbey.

But to goe forward with our challenge, the king said the first word should stand, and on Iemies head he laid a thou∣sand marks: the Lady Carmichell that laught to heare all

this wagered as much on the Foote-mans head: the day was appointed the next morning, being Thursday, to be∣gin at fiue a clock in the afternoone in the coole of the eve∣ning and euery one to his race must make him ready. Iemy as he had seene the kings Foot-men do, washt his féet with Béere, 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 hée begins to runne: the Footeman makes shew of great labor, and the Foole made the substance, for he was quickly in a sweat: they pult and they blowde, they ran as swift as a pudding would créepe. Iemy thought himselfe no smal foole to out-run the Foot-man, and did in his minde assure him∣selfe to win: the King laughes to sée the toyle hée made, and the Foot-man made great shew and little paines. By and by Iemy cals for drinck, and the King loath hée should haue any harme with labour, caused him to haue a mixed drincke to cast him into a sléepe: who when he had drunck, as hée ran on his wager, he dropt downe in the stréete, as heauy as if a leaden plummet that makes a Iack turne the spit, had fallen on the earth dab: there hée slept, and was carryed by commaund to the top of the hill, and laid downe againe: there hée slept halfe an houre, and when he wakt he remembred his iourney: séeing people still about him, vp he gets, away he iogs, and neuer lookes behinde him: and séeing Cannegate so néere him, had not the wit to won∣der how hée came there, but laid hold on the ring of the gate, and staid to bée séene. By and by the foot-man comes sweating, with water powred on his face and head: O my heart, sayes hée: O my legs sayes Iemy, I will not doe so much for all Scotland againe. Well, Iemy cryes victory, victory: and there was the kings Coath at hand, to carry him home, for of himselfe hée could neuer haue gone, had his life lain on it. But when hée came home, the bragges hée made, the glory hée got, how hée out-ran the

Footeman (and ran so easily as if he had béene a sléepe) was wonderfull: I, it was sport enough for the King a month after to heare him tell it. Well the King wonne the wager hée thought, and that was honour sufficient for him: not thrée dayes after hée bad the King put away all his Foote∣men, and he would serue his turne to any place The King thanked him for his good will, and said when his néede was great hée would make bold to vse him: so Iemy this fat foole euer bragged of this wager.

THere was a Laundres of the Towne, whose daughter vsed often to the Court to bring home shirts and bands, which Iemy had long time loued and solicited, but to no end she would not yéeld him an inch of hir maidenhead: now Iemy vowed he would haue if all Wel, she consented at last and to be short soone at night at nine a clocke, being in the winter, when shée knew her mother to bée gone to watch with a sick body, 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, this Mayd goes vp to the castle & 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 hée goes, and Iemy euer vsed to lye naked, as is the vse of a number amongst which number she knew Iemy was one, who no sooner was in bed, but shée her selfe knockt at the doore, and her selfe asked who was there, which Iemy hea∣ring was afraid of her mother: alas sir (sayes shée) créepe vnder the bed, my mother comes. Iemy bustled not a little, vnder hée créepes starke naked, where hée was stung with nettles: iudge you that haue féeling of such matters, there hée lay turning this way and that way, here hée stung his leg, here his shoulder, there his buttockes: 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 she goes, and tels the Kings Chamberlaine of the matter, and hée told the King, who laughed thereat right heartely.

The Chamberlaine was sent to sée him there, who when he came found him fast a sléepe vnder the bed starke naked, bathing in nettles, whose skinne when hée wakened him, was all blistred grieuously. The Kings Chamberlaine bid him arise and come to the King. I will not quoth he, I will go make my graue. Sée how things chanced, he spake truer then he was awar for the Chamberlaine going home with∣out him, tolde the King his answere. 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 custome is there) making nine graues, thrée for men, thrée for women, and thrée for children, and who so dyes next, first comes first seru'd: lend mée thy spade sayes Iemy, and with that digs a hole, which hole hée 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, & rides to a gentleman of the towne, and on the sodaine within two houres after dyed: of whom the Sexton telling hée was buried there indéed. Thus you sée fooles haue a gesse at wit sometime, and the wisest could haue done no more, nor so much. But thus this fat foole fils a leane graue with his carkasse, vpon which graue the King caused a stone of Marble to bée put, on which the Poets writ these lines in remembrance of him:

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

Is this possible sayes the world, that I should bée so serued, nay thou art worse serued heareafter, sayes hée, for thou knowest not the following sceane, but attend it.

By the Foole is meant all fatnesse, by the King nature that nurst him, by the Nobles such as sooth him, and by the Ship, thée, in which many dangers are floting through the sense of sinne, and so if life were awarranted Fooles, fat ones, rich ones, would giue the Chaine of their soules, that is linkt to saluation, onely to inherit this earth in thy com∣pany, when earth though it bée heauen to hell, by reason of the paines, yet the comparison auerts, it is hell to heauen, in respect of pleasures. By the second is meant the surfets ot soule and body that Fooles buy with their gold, not spa∣ring any price to please appetite, though the edge of it slice from the bosome of good old Abraham, very heauen it selfe. By the third, how the fat Fooles of this age, will groute and sweat vnder this masste burden, and purge to the crowne from the foote, though their braine perish through the preuailing practise of busie endeauour. The Mule, mor∣rally signifies the Diuell, vpon whose trot their fatnesse takes ease, and rides a gallop to destruction By the fourth taile is prefigured the presumption of greatnesse, who are willing to out-run spéede it selfe, through gréedy desire. In this is showne how flattery féedes them, placing before them as in a sléepe, worke and wonder, when, to say footh, all is not worth the wonder, their desire is more then abili∣tie to performe, and their practise aboue all, yet the nimble ouershoot them in act, leauing them a quicknesse in will. In the fift, answere is made to the fourth when often such forward déedes, méete with backward lurches, and they are stung with their owne follyes, netling very lust with shame and disgrace: it signifies Adultery in fat ones, who (aboue their owne) whoring after strange Gods make their Religion ride hackney to hell, and when shame takes them from the horse, they make their own graues & are bu∣ryed in their owne shame, with this Motto aboue written.

Fat fooles gather to their woe, Sorrow, shame, and care, Here they lye that gallopt so, In Deaths ingraued snare.

THis morrall motion gaue the world such a buffet that she skringde her face as though shée were pincht home, yet séeing no remedy but that the flat and fat Fooles should draw in her Coach together, shée sits in the boote and rides on. The Crittick, reacheth his glasse to her view and presents the third. O this was an humorous Sir indéede, leane Leonard, they call him a Foole of strange and propostrous bréeding, begat of enuie, and out of doubt his base Sonne: his discription hath a straine of more won∣der, long like a lath, and of proportion little better, but giue his report hearing.

Curled locks on idiots heads, Yeallow as the amber, Playes on thoughts as girls with beads: When their masse they stamber. Thicke of hearing yet thin eard, Long of neck and visage, Hookie nosde and thicke of beard, Sullen in his vsage. Clutter fisted long of arme, Bodie straight and slenderd, Boistrous hipt motly warme? Euer went leane Leonard. Gouty legd footed long, Subtill in his follie, Shewing right but apt to wrong, When a'peard most holy. Vnderstand him as he is, For his marks you cannot misse.

You heare Maddam sayes our Cinnick how he is markt, if ye méete him in your pottage-dish, yet know him. The world tho thée loued not the discription, yet shée coneted his condition, and began to woe his report, which making no bones of the swéet youth gaue his doings thus.

IN the merry Forrest of Shearewood dwels a kinde gen∣tleman, 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 well knowne thereabouts, I thinke it not amisse to tell it at London, that people séeing the strange workes of God, in his differing creatures, we that haue perfect resemblance of God, both in sence and similitude, may the better praise his name, that wée differ from them whose humours we read, sée and heare, are not so strange as true. I say againe this Gentleman had a foole, Leonard they call him, leane of body, looking like enuie, whose con∣ditions agrée with his countenance: one time aboue all o∣ther hée lockt himselfe into a Parlour, where all alone hée playd at slide-groat, as his manner was, péeces or counters he had none, yet casting his hand empty from him, fly saies he, short with a vengeance: then play sayes hée (to his fel∣low) when indéede there is none but himselfe: but thus with supposes he playes alone, swaggers with his game fellow, out sweares him with a thousand oaths, challenges him the field to answere him if hée bée a man, appoynts the place and all, that if any not knowing his conditions, should stand without & heare him, would thinke two swag∣gerers were fighting in the roome.

To his play againe he fals, seauen vp for twelue pence, for that is his game still: well, they fall out, they go together by the eares, & such a hurly burly is in the roome that passes: at the last the stooles they flye about, the Pots they walke, the glasses they goe together▪ nay the Prayer bookes they flie into the fire, that such a noice there was that the whole house wondred at his folly▪ perswasions wer to no purpose doores hée would open none, till they violently brake them open, though they were of gold, and so they did, and entred the Parlour, found all this leuell coyle and his pate broken, his face scratcht, and leg out of ioynt, as a number say to this houre, that hée is a play fellow for the diuell, and in

game they cannot agrée: but that is otherwise, for in the great hall at the seruing mans request he will play by him∣selfe, if they will not play with him: & who so playes with him, though they play for nothing and with nothing, all is one they must fall out, and if others be not by to part them mischiefe may bée done, for he will lay it on, take it off who will: so that at his first comming hée endaungered many, and now take héede is a faire thing, for few will come néere him. Thus you may fée fooles that want wit to gouerne themselues well, haue a wilfull will to goe forward in folly.

THis leane gréedy foole hauing a stomacke, and séeing the butler out of the way, his appetite was such, as loath to tarry, breakes open the Dairy house, eates & spoiles new chéesecurds, chéesecakes, 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 yéeres wages could not make amends: but O the foole leane Leonard, they cryed, hedid this mischiefe, they complayned to their Master, but to no purpose, Leo∣nard was farre inough off, search was made for the foole, but hée was gone none knew whether, and it was his pro∣pertie hauing done mischiefe, neuer to come home of him∣selfe, but if any one intreated him, he would easily be won.

All this while the foole was at Mansfield in Sherwood, and stood gaping at a shoomakers stall: who not knowing him asked him what he was? goe looke sayes hée, I know not my selfe: they asked him where he was borne: at my mothers backe sayes hée: in what country quoth they? in the country quoth he where God is a good man: at last one of the thrée iournymen imagined he was not very wise, & flouted him very merrily, asking him if hée would haue a stitch where there was a hole? (meaning his mouth)

I quoth the Foole, if your nose may bée the néedle: the Shoomaker could haue found in his heart, to haue tooke measure on his pate with a Last in stéede of his foote: but let him goe as he was.

A Country Plow-iogger being by, noting all this, se∣cretly stole a péece of Shoomakers waxe off the stall, & com∣ming behinde him; clapt him on the head, and asked him how he did: the Foole séeing the pitch ball pulled to haue it off, but could not but with much paine, in an enuious spléene, smarting ripe, runs after him, fals at fistie cuffes with him, but the fellow 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 haire of the Clownes beard, were glude together: the fellow cryed, the Foole ex∣claimed, and could not sodainely part, in the end the peo∣ple (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, & know∣ing one to bée Leonard the leane Foole, whom hée had a Warrant from the Gentleman to search for, demaunds of the Fellow how it hapned: the Fellow hée could answere nothing but vm, vm, for his mouth was sealed vp with waxe: dost thou scorne to speake, sayes hée, I am the kings Officer knaue: vm, vm, quoth hée againe, meaning hée would tell him all when his mouth was cleane: but the Constable thinking hée was mockt, clapt him in the stocks, where the Fellow sate a long houre farming his mouth, and when hée had done, and might tell his griefe, the Con∣stable was gone to carry home Leonard to his Maister, who not at home, hée was enforced to stay Supper time, where hée told the Gentleman the Iest, who was very merry to heare the story, contented the Officer, and bad him to set the Fellow at liberty, who betimes in the morning was found fast a sléepe in the stocks: the Fellow knowing

himselfe faulty, put vp his wrongs, quickly departed, and went to work betimes that morning with a flea in his eare.

THe Gentleman with whom this Leonard dwelt, ha∣ning bought a goodly fayre 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 smoothing vp his humour, likewise fayled not to adde a toarch of fire to encrease more flame, for indéede the Bird was worthy of commendations, and therefore did merit prayses. Leo∣nard standing by with his finger in his mouth, as it was his custome, often hearing them praise the goodnesse of the Hawke, thought indéede they had meant for goodnesse be∣ing 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 snatch the Hawke, and hauing wrung off her neck, begins to besiedge that good morsell, but with so good a courage, that the feathers had almost choakt him: but there lay my friend Leonard in a lamentable taking. Well, the Hawke was mist, and the déede was found, the Maister was fetcht, and al men might sée the Hawk, feathers and all not very wel disgested: there was no boote to bid runne far drams to driue downe this vndisgested moddicome: the Gentleman of the 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 hée did praise her for: and though the Gentleman loued his Hawke, yet hée loued the Foole aboue: being enforced ra∣ther to laugh at his simplicifie, then to vexe at his losses sodainely: Being glad to make himselfe merry, tested 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 forbidden meate, & feed so out of measure.

The Gentleman laughed at this rime, yet knew not whether was the more Foole, he for writing, the other for eating or he for loosing Well, putting the Hare to the Goose∣giblets, séeing there was no remedy, made himselfe pastime, pleased himselfe, and did rest contented.

HE that mischiefes many, sometime wrongs himselfe: as hearken to this Iest: Leonard of all things loued his Whéele-barrow, and would worke all day and carry dung in it, yet would sléepe in it at night, he would set vp meate for his belly in it, I what did hée without it? Once at a Christmas time, when the fire in the Hall was full, Leonard was sore a cold, hée got coles 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 end be∣ing warme, goes for a Iacke of Béere, brings it, and sets it on the fire to warme, so that the inside melted, and hée dranck the drinck notwithstanding: but on the sodaine hée séeing the Whéele-barrow flame that he so loued, aloud hée cryes, O mée, O mée, O mée, and takes it vp flaming, and trundles, it into the Hall, among the people to shew: the young men & maydes tumbled ouer one another for feare▪ some had their faces burned, others their legs: the maydes their smocks, yea one set fire on another, for their Aprons burned, and being many people the flame increased rather then decreased: Leonard séeing none would helpe him, runs (for feare least the Gentleman should know it) and thrusts it into the Barne to hide it, which some séeing, runs after, and had they not come at that time, the Hay and Straw had béene all burnt, for it was already of a light fire, but being quencht out, all was well: such is the enuie of fooles who séeing none would helpe him, thought to doe them mischiefe, which he did, but not much.

The World laughing a good at these iests, though to say sooth shée could hardly afford it, for feare of writhing her

swéet fauour, yet strayning curtesie in this kinde, did as our wantons doe at a feast, spare for manners in company but alone cram most gréedily. So shée forgetting modesty gapte out a laughter, and like women hardly wonne cryde more more. The currish Crittick said she should, and gaue her the third pennerth of the morrall, and said, you laugh at leane enuie in a long foole, but you haue cause to wéepe at long enuie in a leane age, as you liue in. This foole cries not all mine, but distributes like a kinde companion, being a su∣ficiall glasse to gaze in. There be leane fooles as well as fat, such are they whose noses drops necessitie, and they smell out for Church lands, many tenaments, vnthrifts furfets, looking leanely in all this, but féede fatly in hope. This fat∣nesse goes to the heart, not séene in the visage. These séem simple, but like Leonard hit home at aduantage, they can stop mens mouths and seale them vp in aduantage, and giue the stocks to the simple deseruer, when themselues are not blamelesse. O beware when you sée a long meager looke, search him he hath also reaching fingers, and can slide a groat by himselfe as Leanord did, fall out, curse, sweare, and batter heauen it selfe with humour of folly. Such was the leane neckt Crane, who bad the fat Foxe to dinner ma∣king him lick the outside of the glasse, while his leannesse fed within. You vnderstand me madame, such are your land∣lords to the poore, your leane lords to the fat tennant, or by a figure one for the other. Thus they batten héere, but the Diuel will gnaw their bones for it.

By the third iest we obserue a gréedinesse in leane folly, that so good report come in their way these eate vp hawke feathers & all to put it by, though they choake in the déede. Héerupon comes it leane enuy swallowes fat bits, I mean honest manners, and makes them stirril of all good meanes, as the Lawyer the poore clyants plow pence, the cittie the country commodities, that vnder shew of leannes they fat themselues to the ribs, good hold for flesh hookes at the ge∣nerall waste. By the fourth and last (I would it were least)

it bewrayes a curious & common leannesse in lewd liuers, who to reuenge on others will fire their owne whéele bar∣row. Like the leane tennant who fallen out with his land∣lord, and séeing his neighbours house on fire desired his neighbours to pull downe his first, for feare of more dan∣ger, not that he loude his neighbours safety and his owne, but that hée hated his landlord. Or the contrary couetous of their owne commoditie fire themselues, and because they will not burne alone indanger their friends, and say tis kinde to haue company. These are fooles indéede leane ones, these are fat at soule & make thicke doings for the diuels dyet. World I name them not thou knowst them well inough. At this she bit her lip, knowing some that were leane Leonards in this, but kay me Ile kay thee, giue mée an inch to day Ile giue thée an ell to morrow, and wéele to hell together. The World dimpling her chin with méere mo∣destie as it were, throwing off variety of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉, be∣gan to say sooth thou saist true, there are such tricks in mée, but I know not how to mende, I am willing ••t flesh is weake, prethée be more sparing, carpe but confound not, hope the best amendment may come. Prethée goe in furnish thy sallet, these hearbs already are sauory, and I picke out to my appetite, and though I bée not altogether pleased, yet am I not quite past patience, I will endure, for that disease that lesters so must receiue cure gladly, though it come with excéeding paine, yet so much the profit by how much the per∣plexities cries aue to the danger. Mistris sayes Sotto I am glad to sit so néere you, and to be thought a kinde neighbor too is more then the world affords. But looke who is héere, we haue followde one with our flat and fat foole, disturbd by the leave. Now as in a historie we mingle mirth with matter, to make a please plaister for melancholy; so in our glasse we present to the leane a cleane. One that was more bel••ued among Ladyes then thought can hatch, or opinion produce. His name is Iack Miller, he liues yet & hath béene in this citie within few dayes, and giue me leaue to discribe him thus:

You that follie comprehend, Listen to my storie, This description well attend, I haue writ it for yee. This cleane nigit was a foole. Shapt in meane of all, And of order fit to rule, Anger in her loudest braul. Fat and thick, neate and cleane, And delights in pleasure, Saue a nasty vglie straine: Of an other measure, From his nosthrils rumatick. Griefe it was to see, Such a simple neatnesse spring, From imbisillitie. Creatures of the better sort, For the Foole was cleane, Gaue him loue with good report, Had not this ill bene. But let slip it was no fault, Men as slougish be, Since the wisest iump as short, In all cleanlynesse as he.

Alas quoth the world, I am sorry trust me, that one so outwardly well, should bée so inwardly ill, and haue that apparance in nastie defect, which of it selfe is neate: but go on with the repeticion since wée are mended in the con∣dition. Wée will winck at small faults, tho wée yéelde it great in nature. Nemo sine crimine and so forth. I quoth Sotto, say yée me so, haue at him then, out it goes, but mark it well.

IN a Gentlemans house where Iack Miller resorted as he was welcome to all: it chanced so there was a Play, the

Players dressed them in the Gentlemans Kitchin, and so entred through the Entry into the Hall. It was after din∣ner when Pyes stood in the Ouen to coole for Supper: Iack had not dyned, and séeing the Ouen stand open, and so many Pyes there vntold (hée thought because they séemed numberlesse) O sayes lack, for one of them p. p. pyes, for so hée stammered in speaking (the Players Boy being by, and in his Ladyes Gowne) could haue found in his heart to créepe in clothes and all: but hée perswaded Iack to do so, to which hée was willing, and very nimbly thrusts in his head into the hot Ouen, which being but newly opened, on the sodaine hée was singed both of head and face, and almost not a hayre left on his eye-browes, or beard: Iack cryes, O I burne, and had not the wit to come back, but lay still: the Gentlewoman Boy tooke him by the héeles & pulled him out, but how he lookt I pray you iudge that can discerne fauours, Iack was in a bad taking with his face poore soule, and lookt so vgly and so strangely, that the La∣dy of the Play being ready to enter before the Gentiles to play her part, no sooner began but remembring Iack, laught out, and could goe no further: the Gentleman muzed at what hée laught, but such a Iest, being easily séene, was told the Gentleman, who sent in for Iack Miller, who came like bald Time, to tell them time was past of his hayre: but hée so strangely lookt, as his countenance was better then the Play. But against night the Players drest them in an∣other place, and at Supper Iack Miller sung his song of Dirryes faire, with a barmy face to take out the fire, and lookt like the Pater of the Alefat••••it was no boote to bid him stut and stammer, poore Foole as cleane as he was, hée was now but beastly faced, for hée looked like a man, that being ashamed to shew his face, had hid it in a dry lome wall, and pulling it out againe, left all the hayre behinde him.

IAck, on Newyéeres day in the morning, was to carry a Newyeres gift to a gentleman a myle off; and as he staid

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: and so hée folded vp his hand (then cleane) for fouling, that at the gentlemans dore he might put it on. The present came, which Iack séeing, made legs to the gentlewoman, forgetting his band was in his hose, carried a stif neck to and fro to the gentlewo∣man, and what ere she spake, or where ere shée stood, Iack would look but one way, as though his neck had bin starcht. And remember, saies the gentlewoman, you abuse not my message, nor my gift. No so so forsooth saies Iack: and away he goes, & thought he would sée what it was, & as he went he lift vp the basket lid and lookt: Ah ha quoth Iack I sée now it is Almond bu bu butter. Along he goes, and séeing the marsh wet and durty, thought to leape a little ditch, & so to goe a cleane hie way, but (O poore Iack) hée, basket and all lay in the midst of the ditch vp to the arme pits in mud, which Iack séeing got out, and goes to a riuer by & washes himselfe first, his band next, where if it had béen about his neck as it should, it had ben labour well saued, but he washt his basket of Almond butter so long that the butter was washt away, which hée perceiuing, in that wofull taking comes back & called for more bu bu butter. The gentlewo∣man séeing how things went rather laught then vext, be∣cause she was so simple to trust a foole with matters of trust, and bad him get him to the fire and dry him, and said. Next time she would stay her seruants leasure (who then were abroad) rather then trust to a rotten staffe. Thus cleane fooles light still on beastly bargaines.

IN the towne of Esam in Worstersh. Iack Miller being there borne, was much made of in euery place: It hapned that the Lord Shandoyes Players came to towne, & played 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 hée would imitate playes, doing all himselfe, King, Gentleman, Clowne & all, hauing spoke for one, he would sodainly goe in, and againe returne for the other: and stam∣mering as he did made much mirth To conclude, he was a right innocent, without any villany at all.

When these Players I speake of had done in the towne, they went to Partiar, and Iack swore he would goe all the world ouer with Grumball. It was then a great frost new begun, and the Hauen was frozen ouer thinely: but héere is the wonder, the Gentleman that kept the Hart (an Inne in the towne) 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, & they of the towne loth to lose his company desired to haue it so: But he I say séeing them goe by, créepes through the win∣dow, & said I come to thée Grumball. The Players stood all still to sée further. He got down very dangerously, & makes no more adoe but venters ouer the Hauen, which is by the long bridge, as I gesse some forty yards ouer: yet he made nothing of it, but my hart aked when my eares heard the ise cracke all the way. When he was come vnto me, I was amazed, & tooke vp a brick bat (which lay there by) & threw it, which no sooner fell vpon the ise but it burst. Was not this strange, that a foole of thirty yéeres was borne of that ise which would not endure the fall of a brickbat? but euery one rated him for the déede, telling him the danger. He con∣sidered his fault; and knowing faults should be punished, he intreated Grumball the Clowne who he so déerely loued to whip him, but with Rosemary, for that hée thought would not smart. But the Players in iest bréecht him till the bloud came, which he tooke laughing, for it was his manner euer to wéepe in kindnesse and laugh in extreames. That this is true, mine eies were witnesses being then by.

IAck Miller welcomed to all places, & hard of none, came to a Gentleman, who being at dinner, requested him for

mirth, to make him a play, which he did, and to sing Der∣ries faire, which was in this manner. First it is to bée no∣ted, hée 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 M. Thomas, vnder a tree mending of shoone, Mistris Annis M. Thomas hight braue beggers euery one.

And so forward: but the Iest was to heare him pronounce braue Beggers, and his qualitie was, after hée began his song, no laughing could put him out of it. One standing by noting his humour that b. and p. plagued him, bad him say this after him, which Iack said he would doe.

Buy any flawne, pasties, pudding pyes, plum pottage, or pescods O it was death to Iack to doe it: but like a wil∣ling Foole hée fell to it: Buy any, buy any fla flaw: p p p pasties, and p p p pudding p p p pyes, p p p, &c.

And euer as he hit the on word, hée would pat with his finger on his other hand, that more and more it would make a man burst with laughing, almost to sée his action: sometime hée would bée pronouncing one word while one might goe to the doore and come againe: But euer after, Gentiles would request him to speake that, where before Derryes fayre was all his Song.

He came not long after (to this I am witnes; because my eares heard it) to a Gentlemans not far from Upton vpon Seuerne in Glocester-shire: where at the Table (amongst many Gallants and Gentlewomen, almost the state of the Country) hée was to iest and sing, especially they entreated him for his new speach of the Pées: which he began in such manner to speake, with driueling and stuttering, that they began mightely to laugh: insomuch that one proper Gentle∣woman among the rest, because shee would not séeme too immodest with laughing: for such to the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that thinke to make all when God 〈◊〉〈◊〉 they marre 〈◊〉〈◊〉 so shée straining her selfe, though inwardly she laughed har∣tely, gaue out such an earnest of her modesty; that all the

Table rung of it. Who is that, sayes one? Not I, sayes an∣other: but by her chéeks you might find guilty Gilbert, wher he had hid the brush. This Iest made them laugh more, and the rather that shée stood vpon her marriage, and disdained all the Gallants there, who so heartely laught that an old Gentle woman at the Table tooke such a conceipt at it with laughing, that had not the foole bin, which stood (by fortune) at her back, & was her supporter, being in a great swound, she had fallen to the ground backward: but down they burst the windows for ayre, & there was no little boot, to bid run: shée was nine or ten dayes ere shée 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.

This quoth the World is méere mirth without mischiefe and I allow of it; Folly without faults is as reddish with∣out salt may passe in disgestion one without the other, & doe better, wher both together ingenders but rheume, & mirth does well in any. I sayes Sotto so way you not the true waight, as it is sufferable to be whole so it is saluable to be hurt, and one to the other giues ayme, but to bée neither is monstrous. I would faine Morrall of it if you please. Leaue was granted, for the World knew it would else bée commanded, and Sotto thus poynts at the Parable. By the first merry embleme I reach at stars, how they fire them∣themselues in the firmament, whether it be with sitting too néere the Sunne in the day, or couching to néere the Moone in the night I know not, but the haire of their happinesse often fals off, and shoots from a blazing Commet to a falne star, and carries no more light then is to be séene in the bot∣tome of Platoes inck-horne, and where they should study in priuate with Diogenes in his Cell, they are with Cornelius in his tub. By the second, the cleane sooles of this world are patternd, who so neately stand vpon their ruffes & shooties, that the braine is now lodged in the foote, and therevpon comes it that many make their head their foote, and imploy∣ment is the drudge to prodigalitie, made sawcie through the

mud of their owne minds, where they so oft stick fast that Bankes his horse with all his strength & cunning cannot draw them out. By the third is figured saucie aduenture in folly, for wisedome puts forward no further then warrant, and for pleasure the wisest make themselues fooles. To con∣clude this foolish discription of the fourth, many sing out their times and like ideots true borne, confound with folly what was created more holy, stutting out trifles that out method matter of more waight, where nisetie her selfe will let goe in laughter, though she spoyle her marriage. The World likte not this well, but bit the lip againe, but as rich men suffer wrongs for aduantage, tooke her pennerths to∣gether, casts her eye a side, and sées a comely foole indéede passing more stately, & who was this forsooth Wil Sommers, one not meanly estéemed by the King for his meriment, his mellody was of a higher straine, and he lookt as the noone broade waking. His discription was writ in his fore-head and yée might read it thus:

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 er'e 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 paines 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 caus'd the Court to loue him more and more.

The world was in loue with this merry foole, and said he was fit to the time indéede, therefore deserude to bée well regarded. Insomuch as shée longed to heare his friscoes morrallised, and his gambals set downe. And Sotto as wil∣lingly goes forward thus:

VVIll Sommers, in no little credit in the Kings Court, walking in the Park at Gréenwich, fell a sléepe on the stile that leads into the walk, and 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: for now adaies beggers are gallants, while gentiles of right blood séeme tame russians: but note the loue that Will Som∣mers got: A poore woman séeing him sléep so dangerously, ey∣ther to fal backward, or to hurt his head, leaning so against a post, fetch him a cushen & a rope, the one for his head, & the o∣ther to bind him to the post, frō falling backward & thus hée slept, & the woman stood by, attending as groom of his chāber.

It chanced so, that vpon great occasion, as you shall after heare, Wil Sommers vncle came out of Shropshire to séeke him in the Court, a plaine old man of thréescore yéeres, with a buttoned cap, a lockram falling band, course, but cleane, a russet coat, a white belt of a horse hide, right horse-coller, white-leather, a close round bréech of russet shéeps wool, with a long stock of white kersey, a high shoo with yelow buckles, all white with dust: for that day the good old man had come thrée & twenty miles on foot. This kinde old man comming vp in his Countryes behalfe, & comming into Gréenwitch, asked the way to the Court: euery one directs him, but one villaine Page directs him by the Court gate, to crosse in a

Boat ouer to Blackwal, and told him that was the Court. The silly old man willingly paid his penny before hand, & was going ouer: but some that ouer-heard their talk, hin∣dred his iourney, and laughed at the Iest, yet pittyed his simplicity, and sets him the right way. When he came in & saw such a place, he was amazed and stood gazing: which the Gard & Gentlewomen in their windows had much sport to sée: at last one asked him what hée was?

The old man answeres, a poore Shropshire man & de∣maunds if there were not a Gentleman in the Court dwel∣ling, called by the name of M. William Sommers? (for the Country hearing him in fauour in the Court, said hée was so at least.) The Courtier answered, here is such a one in∣déed. For fault of a worse, saies hée, I am his Uncle, & wept with ioy, that hée should sée him. Marry sayes the man, Ile help you to him straight: for I tell you, not any in the court drust but haue sought him, which this man did, and it was told them, hée was walkt into the Parke, while the King slept that hote day: thether went they to séeke 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 said & done, at last, came these two and wakened him. William séeing his head soft, what soft post is this, quoth he? A post of mine own making, saies the woman. But she lost nothing by her good will: for ere shée left Will. Sommers, shée got him to get her sons pardon of the King, who was to bée hanged, thrée dayes after for piracy: but by Will. Sommers meanes he deceiued the hang∣man. This and many good déeds he did to diuers.

The foole being wakened, lookes about him, when he had thanked the woman, asked what newes? sayes the man, sir, here is your vncle come out of the Country to sée you. God a mercy cousin, sayes Wil Sommers. I thank thée for thy la∣bour, you cannot vncle me so. Yes truely Sir, I am your owne deare vncle, M. William, and with that wept. Are you my vncle sayes Will? I sir, sayes hée. Are you my Uncle,

sayes hée againe? I sure & verely too. But are you my vncle indéed? by my vusse I am sayes the old man. Then vncle by my vusse welcome to Court, sayes Will Sommers, but what make you héere vncle? He vp and tels his comming to him. Will takes him by the hand, come saies hée thou shalt sée Harry, vnckle, the onely Harry in England, so he led him to the chamber of Presence, and euer & anone cryes. Aware roome for me & my vncle, & knaues bid him welcome. You are welcome sir sayd they, 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 sayes he, we will haue your géere mended, leads him to his chamber, & attires him in his best fooles coate, simply God wot, meaning well to him, and the simple old man as simply put it on, cap & all. Out they come, and vp they came, and to the King they goe, who being with the Lord Trea∣surer alone merry, séeing them two, how Will had got ano∣ther foole, knew there was sport at hand. How now saies the King, what newes with you? O Harry saies he, this is my own vncle, bid him welcome. Wel said the King he is wel∣come. Harry sayes he heare mée tell thée a tale, and I will make thée rich, & my vncle shalbe made rich by thée. Will tels the King, how Terrils frith was inclosed. Tirrils frith, sayes the King? what is that? Why, the Heath where I was borne, called by the name of Terils Frith: now a gentle∣man of that name takes it all in, and makes all the people beléeue it is his, for it took the name from him: so that Harry the poore pine, & their cattel are all vndone without thy help.

And what should I do sayes the King? Marry saies Will send to the Bishop of Hereford, hée is a great man with Terrill, commaund him to set the Frith at liberty againe, who is now imprisoned by his meanes. And how shall I be rich by that sayes the King? The poore will pray for thée sayes Will, & thou shalt bée rich in heauen, for on earth thou art rich already. All this was done, & Wils vncle went home

who while he liued for that déed was allowed Bayly of the Common, which place was worth twenty pound a yéere.

HOwsoeuer these thrée things came in memory, & are for mirth incerted into stage playes, I know not; but that Will Sommers asked them of the King, it is certaine, there are some will affirme it now liuing in Gréenewich. The King vpon a time being extreame melancholy and full of passion, all that Will could doe will not make him merry. Ah, sayes hée, this must haue must haue a good showre to clense it, & with that goes behind the Arras. Harry (saies he ile go behind the Arras and study thrée questions, and come againe, sée therefore you lay aside this melancholy muse, & study to answere 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 anticke looke, to please the beholders. Harry sayes he, what is that the lesser it is, the more it is to bée feared? The King mused at it, but to grace the iest the better he answered he knew not. Will made an∣swere it was a little bridge ouer a déepe riuer, at which hée smyled. What is the next William sayes the King? Marry this is next, what is the cleanliest trade in the world? Mary says the King I thinke a Comfitmaker, for hée deales with nothing but pure ware, & is attired cleane in white linnen when he sels it. No Harry sayes Will, you are wide. What say you then, qd. the King? mary sayes Will I say a durt∣dauber Out on it sayes the King, that is the foulest, for hée is durty vp to the elbows. I sayes Will, but then he washes him cleane againe, & eats his meat cleanly enough. I pro∣mise thée Will saies the King thou hast a prety foolish wit, I Harry sayes he it will serue to make a wiser man then you a foole me thinks, at this the King laught, & demaunds the third question. Now tell me sayes Will if you can, what it is that being borne without life, head, lippe or eye, yet doth runne roaring through the World till it dye? this is a wonder qd the King, & no question, I know it not.

Why qd Will it is a fart. At this the King laught hartely, & was excéeding merry, and bids Will aske any reasonable thing, and he would graunt it. Thanks Harry saies he, now against I want I know where to find, for yet I néede no∣thing, but one day I shall, for euery man sées his latter end, but knowes not his beginning. The King vnderstoode his meaning, and so pleasantly departed for that season, & Will laid him downe amongst the Spaniels to sléepe.

ON a time appointed the King dined at Windsor in the Chappell yard, at Cardinall Wolseys, at the same time when he was building that admirable worke of his tombe, at whose gate stood a number of poore people to be serued of almes when dinner was done within, and as Will past by they saluted him, taking him for a worthy personage, which pleased him. In he comes, and finding the King at dinner, & the Cardinall by attending, to disgrace him that hée neuer loued, Harry sayes he, lend me ten pound. What to do saies the King? to pay thrée or foure of the Cardinals creditors quoth he, to whom my word is past, & they are come now for the mony. That thou shalt Will quoth he. Creditors of mine saies the Cardinall? Ile giue your Grace my head if any man can iustly aske me a penny. No saies Will? lend mée tend pounds, if I pay it not where thou owest it, Ile giue thée twenty for it. Doe so sayes the King, that I will my Liege saies the Cardinall, though I know I owe none. With that he lends Will ten pounds. Will goes to the gate & distributes it to the poore, & brought the empty bag, there is thy bag againe sayes he, thy creditors are satisfied, and my word out of danger.

Who receiued it, sayes the king? the Brewer or the Ba∣ker? Neyther (Harry) sayes Will Sommers: But (Cardinall) answer me in one thing: To whom dost thou owe thy soule? To God (quoth hée) To whom thy wealth? To the poore, sayes he. Take thy forfeit (Harry) sayes the foole, open con∣fession, open pennance: his head is thine, for to the poore at

the gate I paid his debt, which hée yéelds is due: or if thy stony heart will not yéeld it so, saue thy head by denying thy word, and lend it mée: thou knowest I am poore, & haue neither wealth nor wit, and what thou lendest to the poore, God will pay thée ten fold: he is my surety, arrest him, for by my troth hang mée when I pay thée. The King laught at the iest, and so did the Cardiuall for a shew, but it grie∣ued him to iest away ten pound so: yet worse tricks then this Will Sommers serued him after, for indéede hée could neuer abide him: and the forfeiture of his head had like to haue béene payed, had he not poysoned himselfe.

THere was in the time of Will Sommers, another artifi∣ciall Foole or Iester in the Court, whose subtiltie heapt vp wealth by gifts giuen him, for which Will Sommers could neuer abide him: but indéede lightly one foole cannot indure the sight of another, as Iack Oates the Minstrell in the flat Fooles story, and one begger is woe, that another by the doore should goe. This Iester was a big man, of a great voyce, long black locks, & a very big round beard: on a time (of purpose) Will Sommers watcht to disgrace him, when he was ingling & iesting before the King. Will Som∣mers brings vp a messe of milk and a manchet, Harry saies hée, lend me a spoone: Foole saies the Iester, vse thy hands, helpe hands for I haue no lands, and meant, that saying would warrant his grose féeding. I sayes Will Sommers, Beasts will doe so, and Beasts will bid others do, as they doe themselues. Will, said the King, thou knowst I haue none: true Harry saies he, I know that, therfore I askt thée, & I would (but for doing thée harme) thou hadst no tongue to grant that foole his next sute, but I must eate my creame some way. The King, the Iester and all gathers about him to sée him eat it. Will begins thus to rime ouer his milke:

This bit Harry I giue to thee, & this next bit must serue for both which Ile eate apace: (me, This bit Madame 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 sowne, & his eyes almost put out. Will Som∣mers he gets him gone for feare. This lusty iester forgetting himself, in fury drawes his dagger, & begings to protest: nay sayes the King, are ye so hote, claps him fast, & though hée drawes his dagger here, yet let him put it vp in another plaee. The poore abused Iester, was Iested out of counte∣nance, and lay in durance a great while, till Will Sommers was faine (after he had broken his head to giue him a plai∣ster) to get him out againe: but neuer after came my Iug∣gler in the Court more, so néere the King, being such a dan∣gerous man to draw in the presence of the King.

Now Lady world sayes Sotto you wonder at this first iest, do not tis common, for who so simple that being gordgd with broth themselues, will not giue their friends on spoon∣full, especially our kinne. O wéele to make them great make our selues, & pollitikly rise againe by their greatnes. But hée was simple in that, for though he raised many, himselfe stood at one stay. But the déed is not common therefore may fitly be termed a flooles déed, since the wise meddle not with it, vnlesse to plunge further in and winde from pouertie. But leaue it to the greatest power of all to remedie and reuenge, while earthly Maiestie growes great by adding liberty totheir afflictions, as in our commons of late, God preserue him for it. By the second morrally, signification giues this, that fooles questions reach to mirth, leading wis∣dome by the hand as age leads children by one finger, and though it houlds not fast in wisedome, yet it points at it. Better so then the wise to put questions to fooles, for thats to put the mony out of the bag, & leaue the mony behinde to bad vse, while themselues beg with the bag. Such like Will Sommers stéepe mongst dogs. The third bids vs charitably learne of simplicitie to pay our debts, when the poore credi∣tor cals for it, but tis a generall fault, and such who haue doores shut whereat the poore stand, shal find gates fast wher themselues may not enter, but especially we of the laity, for

while the Pastor cherishes the soule, we séeke to starue the body, but lets be mindfull least decaying one we loose both. O the world could not indure this but offred to sting away. Nay nay sayes the Cinnick soft & faire, a word or too more, & halfe angry looking into his glasse sées one all in blew, carry∣ing his neck on the one side, looking sharply, drawing the leg after him in a strange manner, describd in méeter thus:

Some thing tall dribling euer, Bodie small merrie neuer: Splay footed visage black, Little beard it was his lack. Flat capt still in view, The Citties charge many knew: Long coated, at his side Muckinder and inckhorne tide. Preaching still vnto boyes, Ayming well, but reaching toyes: Louing all hating none, Lesse such as let him not alone, As a liude, so a dyde: Was deaths scorne, though lifes pride.

This is singuler indéed sayes the world, I long to héere of this dry poore Iohn. His name is Iohn indéede sayes the Cinnick, but neither Iohn a nods, nor Iohn a dreames, yet either as you take it, for he is simply simple without tricks, not sophisticated like your Tobacco to tast strong, but as Nature aloud him he had his talent. Whereat the World so fickled her splene that she was a gog, clap her hands for ioy, and sayes she was déepely satisfied, and cryd more. The crooked stick of licorish that gaue this swéet rellish, being to set his téeth to it, wipes his rheumy beard, & ••nites his phi∣losophicall nose, snapping his fingers Barber-like after a dry shauing, iogs on thus:

THis innocent Ideot, that neuer harmed any, before I enter any further, I will let you vnderstand in two words, how he came to be of the hospital of Christs church: Some certaine yéers since (but not a few yéers) there dwelt a poore blinde woman in Bow-lane in London, called by the name of blind Alice, who had this foolé of a child to lead her, in whose house he would sit, eyther on the stayres, or in a corner, & sing Psalmes, or preach to himselfe of Peter and Paul, because he delighted to goe to Sermons with blinde

Alice and heard the Preacher talk of them. It chanced the Worshipfull of the Citty (good Benefactours to the poore) to take her into Christs Hospitall, with whom Iohn went as a guide to lead her: who being olde after shée dyed, hée was to be turned out of doore: but the Citty more destrous to pitty then to be cruell, placed him as a fostred fatherles child, and they did wel in it too, séeing hée was one of Gods Creatures, though some difference in persons.

Well, to go forward in what I promised you: Iohn went to S. Pauls Church in London, to méet with M. Nowell the Deane, whose bounty to him was great, and the foole knew it wel enough, whom he would duely attend after his prea∣ching, for euer he gaue him at their méeting a groat, and hée 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 reads his Text.

It is written (sayes he) in the 3. Chapter of Paul to the Corinthians: Brethren, you must not sweare (for that was lightly all his text) then thus he begins: Wheras or wher∣vnto it is written: for because you must beléeue it: for surely else wée are no Christians Write the Sermon (Boy) sayes hée (as the Hospitall Boyes doe) & then one must write on his hand with his finger, and then hée would goe forward thus: The world is proud, and God is angry if wée do not repent. Good friend giue me a pin, or good friend giue mée a poynt, as it came in his minde: and so sucking vp his dri∣uell and breath together, would pray & make an end: which being done, who bids me home to dinner now, sayes Iohn? The Boyes that knew his qualities, answeres, that do I, Iohn. Thank ye friend sayes he, and goes home to his own dwelling at Christs Church. But at this time one wealthy Marchants son, to make his father merry, bad him home to dinner indéed, & wil he or nill he, hée must go with him, with much adoe 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, thought on his Nurse, for he was all sauing for her, & séeing no body by, stept to the pot, & put a great ladle of pot∣tage into his pocket, & pittiously burnt his thigh, & but that the leather was thick, it had béene worse.

Iohn féeling somthing burne, leapt & cryed: they ran in to sée the matter why he cryed, but more & more he exclaimed, I burn, I burn, & got out of doors, & neuer leaues til he came to his nurse, who quickly shifted him, & mended what was amisse, but the iest was to sée the folk of the house who won∣dring what he ayled, could not deuise what the matter was: but a begger in the entry, who beheld al, told the truth of the matter, who lost a good almes for his labour. But thus sim∣ple Iohn by his own folly, died the inside of his pocket, pease pottage tawny, and set a good scarlet red vpon his thigh.

GAffer Homes being Sexton of Christs Church, would often set Iohn a worke, to toule the Bell to prayers or burials, wherin he delighted much: it chanced so, that com∣ming through the Church, and hauing nothing to do, séeing the bel so easily to come by, towles it. The people (as the custome is) repaires to Church (as they vsed) to know for whom it was. Iohn answeres them still, for his nurses chic∣ken. They said, Wherfore toules the bel, Iohn? I know not. When dyed he? euen now. Who, Iohn? Who? my nurses chicken, quoth he, & laughs. This iest was knowne to euery neighbour thereabouts, who sent to bid him leaue touling: but it was not his custome, till goodman Homes tooke the rope from him, that gaue the rope to him,

Well, there stood Iack towling from foure a clock to sire, goodman Homes being from home, who was not a little vext at Iohns dilligence, but laid the rope euer after, where Iohn could not reach it.

IOhn was of this humor, ask him what his coat cost him, he would say a groat: what his cap, band or shirt cost, all

was a groat: aske what his beard cost, and still a groat▪ So one Friday morning there was a Gentleman to ride down into Warwickshire, about payment of an hundred pound vpon a b••nos forfeyture: the time was next day, by Sun set, it was no boote to bid him pull on his boots & be gone. Well he made hast, & went to doe it without bidding, & yet for all his hast, his bootes were seame-rent, and must haue a stitch or two néeds: 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 Hospitall to him (as his vse was) to carry home his work, & he sends Iohn home with the boots: As Iohn was going through Iuy lane, a Country fellow that knew him not, méets him, and séeing the boots, What shall I giue thée for them saies he, Iohn (who sold euery thing for a groat) asked a groat. The fellow séeing it was a good penniworth, giues him a groat & departs with the boots. Iohn, as his vse was gaue it to his Nurse. She asked him where hée had it? Hée said, for boots: but shée not knowing his minde, fell to work againe as he found her.

The forfeiture of the bond so hammered in this Gentle∣mans head, that he thought euery houre two, till he had his boots, & mused they came not from mending, sends for them presently. One comes sweating, (zoones) Cobler the boots, & being at worke very busie, I sayes he, they are mended and carryed home. Another comes, boots, boots. Would she boots were in your belly, quoth the Cobler, once againe they are gone home. By and by comes the Gentleman in his white linnen boot-hose ready to the purpose. A poxe of lazy coblers sayes hée, my boots, shall I forfeit a bond for your pleasure? The Cobler puts of his considering cap, why sir, sayes hée, I sent them home but now. By whom sayes he? By Iohn view Iohn sayes the cobler. The Gentleman he runs home one way, the cobler another: well no boots were to be had: the Gentleman hée stayed, and the Cobler hée prayed, but all this while the boots delaid and came not.

The Cobler séekes Iohn at his nurses where he was, and found the boots were sould for a groat. The Cobler séeing no remedy, because the Gentleman was in hast, giues him fiue shillings with a heauy hey ho, towards a new paire, & lost foure shillings eight pence by the bargaine: but the cob∣ler would neuer let Iohn carry home his ware more: nay, sayes the Cobler, if my money can be booted and ride poste so by fiue shillings at a time, it is no boot for me to say 〈◊〉〈◊〉, but the next bootes Ile make a page of my owne age, and carry home my selfe: for I sée fooles will afford good pennyworths.

ON Gaster Munday the ancient rustome is, that all the children of the Hospitall goe before my Lord Maior to the Spittle, that the world may witnesse the works of God and man, in maintenance of so many poore people, the bet∣ter to stir vp liuing mens mindes to the like good. Before which the children of the hospitall like a captaine goes Iohn, whom to behold the people flock apace, & the weather being hote their thrusting made Iohn extreame dry. Iohn conside∣red he was like to fast while dinner, yet kept on his ranck to the Spittle, where the Cannes did walke a pace by his nose but neuer came at him, which made him more eager of drinck. Well while the children were placing, Iohn stood making of water, & séeing a gentlemans doore open slips in, and the houshold without standing to sée my Lord Mayor passe by not regarded him, but hée whose nose had wit to smell good béere got downe into the Seller, & fell to it tipple square, till he was lost & quite drunck, and layd himselfe to sléepe behind two barrels, & vnséene slept all that day. In the Sermon time he was mist, sought & not found The after∣noone came, the Gentlemans Butler with other good fel∣lowes fell to carouse soundly, till the Butler was layd vp too: héere was a Seller well fraught with fooles: but all this while the beadels fayled not to search vp and downe the citie, the cryer cryed a man child of the age of two & thirtie

yéeres, for at least hée was so old. But returne wée to the seller: the two drunkards waked both together. Iohn cals Nurse, Nurse, which the Butler (halfe awake) hearing thought the Diuell had bin playing bo péep with him, but when he looked and beheld him imagining how it was, he secretly sent him to the Hospitall, least he were blamed for his negligence in looking to the doore no better.

A number of things more Iohn did, which I omit, fear∣ing to 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 is, but with no Epitaph. Mée thinks, those that in his life time could afford him his picture, might with his graue yéeld so much as foure lynes, that people may sée where he lyes, whom they so well knew, and if I might perswade, his Motto should bée to this effect:

Here sleepes blew Iohn, that giues Food to feed wormes, and yet not liues: You that passe by looke on 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.

Surely sayes mistris Nicetie this pleases well to sée one so naturally silly to be simply subtill, it is strange, but I heare it and like a tale out of a poore mans mouth hardly credit it. This foole sayes Sotto signifies many who come to Church to méete acquaintance, more then for piety, & will sooner sell the Church for mony, then pawne ought to vnderprop it. At these the boyes and children of this world wonder, while manly age sées and will not sée. For these as the second tale saies, Folly towles the bell, and a number longs to heare it ring out, when the losse of Iohns Chickin is of more want then theirs, but a rope out it, it will one day be better. Ther are as Hamlet sayes things cald whips in store. The third

iest of Iohn, shewes morrally many things, amongst which things, I meane workes, are so cobbeld that to rid it with quicknesse, folly may beare it vp and downe to the owner. While workmanship & time is méerely abusde, but it boots not to meddle in this, least some say, ne sutra, &c. But let me tel ye this by the way World, there are knaues in thy seames, that must be ript out, I sayes the world and such I feare was your father. O no sayes the Critticke, he was the silly Gentleman that staid while the foole brought home his boots, & so forfeited his bond, that his good conditions lay at gage for it mary, yes say the World and was after canseld at the gallous, for such as hée lies in wait to cosin simplycitie, and for a groat buy that, which wel got deserues a portague. At this the Cinnick fretted, and héere they begin to challengde the combat, but a parly sounded, summoned them to the last taile with Iohn to the celler in the spittell. Where if they please they may carrowse fréely, though they die déepe in scarlet as many doe, till they loose themselues in the open stréetes, such Diogenes sought at noone daies with a lanthorne and a candell. Well the World so bufteted the Cinnicke at his owne weapon, that he playes with her as weake fencers, that carries flesh vp and downe for others to dresse. Such was the Cinnick, vns kilfull in quips and worldly flaunts, rather to play with short rods and giue venies till all smart againe, not in the braines, as the world did, but in the buttocks as such doe, hauing their Ioses displaid, making them expert till they cry it vp in the top of question.

Our sullen Cinnick sets by his glasse in mallice, knits a betill brow till the roome grew darke againe, which the wanton World séeing flings out of his Cell like a girle at barly breake, leauing the last couple in hell, away she gads and neuer lookes behind her. A whirlewinde sayes the Cin∣nick goe after, is this all my thanks, the old payment still, doth the world still reward mortality thus, is vertue thus bed ridden, can shée not helpe her selfe? and lookes vp to

heauen as hée should say some power asist. But there hée sat fretting in his owne grease, and for ought I know no body came to help him.