The sonne of the rogue, or, The politick theefe with the antiquitie of theeves : a worke no lesse curious then delectable / first written in Spanish by Don Garcia ; afterwards translated into Dutch, and then into French by S.D. ; now Englished by W.M. — De sordenada codicia de los bienes agenos. English

The sonne of the rogue, or, The politick theefe with the antiquitie of theeves : a worke no lesse curious then delectable / first written in Spanish by Don Garcia ; afterwards translated into Dutch, and then into French by S.D. ; now Englished by W.M. — De sordenada codicia de los bienes agenos. English

Table of contents

Title page

The Preface to the Reader.

THE ANTIQIVTIE OF THEEVES

CHAP. I. In which the Author compareth the miseries of Prison to the paines of Hell.

CHAP. II. Of a pleasant discourse whic• the Author had in Prison with a famous Theife.

CHAP. III. To whom the Theefe relateth the Noblenesse and Excellencie of Theft.

CHAP. IIII. To him the Thiefe relateth the life and death of his Parents and the first disgrace that befell him.

CHAP. V. Of the first Theefe that was in the world and whence theft had its beginning.

CHAP. VI. The theefe followeth his historie proving that all men of what qualitie so ever are Theeves.

CHAP. VII. Of the difference and variety of Theeves.

CHAP. VIII. The Theefe continueth the differences among Theeves with three disgraces that befell him.

CHAP. IX. Wherein the Theefe relateth his wittie diligence to free himselfe out of the Gallies of Marseiles.

CHAP. X. In which he proceedeth to relate his invention, begun with some discourses of Love, between the Governour of the house and this Gallieslave.

CHAP. XI. In which the Theefe 〈◊〉 the disgrace that happen•d to him, about a 〈◊〉 of Pearle.

CHAP. XII. In which the Thiefe relateth the last disgrace that befell him.

CHAP. XIII. Of the Statutes and Lawes of Theeves.

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THE SONNE OF THE ROGVE, OR THE POLITICK THEEFE. WITH THE ANTIQVITIE OF THEEVES.

A worke no lesse Curious then delectable; first written in Spanish by DON GARCIA. Afterwards translated into Dutch, and then into French by S. D. Now Englished by W. M.

LONDON, Printed by I. D for Michael Sparkes and are to sold in Green-Arbor, 1638

The Preface to the Reader.

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MEns naturall inclination is alwayes prone and addicted to so great rashnesse, that though vice of it selfe is so abominable & blame-worthy, notwithstanding there be too many who openly praise it, and account it their honour to practise it. Thence it cō meth to passe that theft, [Page] being a pernicious vice and forbidden by the Lawes, doth not cease to be followed by many, who to defend themselves from the reproaches which may be laid against them, alleage that the Lacedemonians a people very severe and just, permitted the use thereof to their youth; that the Aegyptians held those for able men that could steal best. That for the same subject the Poets in their writings have bragged of the subtilty of Mercurius, and of the cunning of the goddesse [Page] Laverna who was the Theeves Patronesse. Briefly, that this profession is made commendable by the crafty trickes of many that have exercised it, such as were Prometheus the father of Deucalion, Cacus and Autolicu [...], the one the son of Vulcan and the other of Mercurie, Arsaces King of the Par [...]hians, Denis Tyrant of Sici [...]ie, The Emperour Nero, Leo sonne of Constantine Copronimus, Fulvius, Flaccus Censor, Ninus King of Aegipt, to whom Iustin ascribeth the invention of so fine a trade, and a great [Page] many others with wh [...] the books of Authors are filled. To which we may adde, that even the most understanding men are not free from this vice, [...] it be eertaine (as saith Simplicius) that the Prince of the Peripatetiques (Aristotle) stole that which he hath from the most excellent of those that went before him. That Virgil drew all his richest inventions from Homor, Hesiod and Theocritus, and that Cicero boldly furnish [...] himselfe with the doctrine of the Stoiques Academiques and Epicures.

[Page] But for all this, it cannot be but that naturall reason must put downe all these vaine opinions, because according to Aquinas, Theft is quite cō trary to that love which we owe to our Neighbours, and with-all to Gods Law and mans Law. And to this effect beside that in Exodus and Leviticus it is expresly forbidden, it is yet also detested by the Apostle S. Paul, where speaking to the Ephesians he saith, Let him that stole steale no more: but let him rather labour and worke with his hands. Also [Page] the people of old taking notice of this truth ordained against Theeves severall [...] sorts of punishments, especially the Grecians & the Athenians, as Ludovicus Vives doth very we [...] observe, who saith that the Emperor Frederick the third was the first that condemned them to the Gallies: Ovid speakes to this purpose that Scyron one of the renowned Theeves of his time was thrown head-long into the sea by Theseus, Procrustes kill'd by Hercules and Sysiphus cut in peeces. Virgil that Pedant Balista was [Page] stoned for his thefts; and the divine Arious, that the King Agrement caused Brunellus the cunningest Thiefe that ever was to be hang'd for having boldly stollen Ang [...] licus Ring and Scripants horse. I passe all the other examples that I might alleage: to tell you in a word, good Reader, that this booke discourseth not here so much of the Antiquitie of Theeves and of their cunning slights, as to teach thee to eschew them, for if it be true that he wounds of Darts [Page] which are foreseene from farre, are not so hurtfull as those which are shot at us unawares. I assure my selfe that the Reader will use it as an instrument to avoide the snares which leud fellowes ordinarily lay for honest men,

Farewel.

THE ANTIQIVTIE OF THEEVES

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CHAP. I.
In which the Author compareth the miseries of Prison to the paines of Hell.The Author would not haue beene so vehement, had he been in one of our English prisons, which for the most part are made rather places of ease and delight then punishment.

THe terror of Hell which is set forth to us in holy Writings, doth so resemble to us the miseries which are endured in prison, that if this had not that hope which th' other wanteth we might attribute unto it the title of a true Hell, seeing [Page] that in this which is most proper to them, the one and the other haue a mutuall and full correspondence, which maketh me to wonder much at the vnprofitable diligence with which some late writers distill their brain's to finde the meanes how they may properly represent unto the world the horrour of that terrible mansion, when they might have attained to the end of their purpose in shewing onely the desperate life which people suffer in prison, which shall be perfitly knowne with its extreame miserie, if first of all we particularly treate of the torments which are perpetually exercised in Hell.

The Authors, who write upon this subject, bring the [Page] paines of Hell to two points; the first and chiefe of which is their depriving from the essence of God, which they call essentiall paine, it being that, which properly containeth all the torments that can be imagined in Hel. And that same is so extreame and so cruell, that if the soule had in the other world as many pleasures and contentments as the thought of man could imagine, being deprived of God, it could not have any thing which had one onely shadow of comfort. Because that God being the roote and the fountaine of all goodnesse, and all contentments and delights, which are in [...]he world being stored up in him alone, it is evident that with him the soule shall have [Page] all consolation which is possible to be imagined and that without him it shall be plunged into a bottomlesse depth of sorrow & confusion, with which and with the certainty that it hath, that its griefes shall never be ended, it curseth its being, its birth and its life.

The other paine which the damned suffer in Hell is the accidentall paine, so called because it is joyned to the former as an accident, which serveth to make the apprehension of the damned more sensible, throwing them headlong into the bitter sight of their miserie. To this is joyned the detestable companie of Divells, the horrible and frightfull lodging, the [...] severall kindes of [Page] torments, the continuall lamentations, the disorder, the confusion, the fire, the brimstone, the darkenesse and a thousand other afflictions, of which, and of the depriving of Gods being and presence, that wretched and perpetuall Hell is composed.

And as touching the varietie of officers, that beare rule in this darke dungeon; wee know already that in that great battell which Saint Michael th' Archangell had against Lucifer, for the throne and the glory of the Creator, not onely the same Lucifer fell from Heaven, and from the highest of his perfection to the lowest and hollowest gulfes of Hell▪ but also a great number of evill angells with him, who were [Page] copartners with him in his rash and accursed purpose. And these although they do equally partake with him in the paine essentiall, which is being deprived of God, have neverthelesse some difference amongst themselves: whether it be that everyone is of one kind, as saith a Doctor of the Church, or whether for that they had more or lesse consent in his malice. Because that without doubt those who obstinatly defended the pride of Lucifer fell with him into the deepest place of the earth which is the center of the the world where divines doe place Hell. And those who were not so vehement; but onely approved his purpose with a certaine and determinate [Page] fellow-liking, fell not so low: I will say that the accidentall paine of them was not so great as that of these others. And of this sort the accidentall paine of these spirits was made severall according to the degrees of the malice which they had in their sinne. And though that in Hell there is no order, as Iob saith; there is notwithstanding a certaine government and order among these spirits vnder-placed and divided into severall companies with diverse degrees and qualities. So as the good Angells in the heavenly Ierusalem are divided by their order into Angells, Archangells, Thrones, Powers, Cherubins, Seraphins, and other holy dignities.

[Page] All the Legions of Divel [...] which fell from Heaven remained subject to the Arch-angell Michael, who hath commandement and empire over them all. As also according to some mens opinions, every good Angell of Princes hath commandement over one Legion. And beside the obedience which all of them owe to Saint Michael, as to their Captaine Generall vnder God, they have also among them their Prince of malice, to whom they are subject and obey, and upon him depend diverse Liev [...]tenants and Governors, who wholly divide the governement of all the hellish malice, every one of them having vnder his charge the disposing and [Page] good order of his band. Neither lesse nor more than in a well ordered Campe, where there is a great multitude of Souldiers, the body of the armie is divided into severall Regiments, as are the Generall, the Camp-master, Captaines, Ensignes, Sergeants; Corporalls and others of this sort, who order the Souldiers and the armie. And as there are sundry Offices of these, some being foot [...] ▪ others horse, some Musqueters, others Pikemen, and finally of severall employments: there are also among the evill spirits severall Offices and places, some tempting by Covetousnesse, others by Riotousnesse, others by Ambition, and finally [...] [Page] every particular sinne hath its appointed and determinate Officers, having all of them equally; one onely end and scope to carrie soules to Hell.

In this Divellish armie there are some Div [...]ls, that never come out of Hell, but are evermore shut up within it, receiving the soules which enter in thither, and giving to them a place and kinde of torment which their sinnes deserve. There are others who are ever wandring, c [...]mpassing the earth to and fro, and searching for soules to carrie them into Hel. Neverthelesse let no man thinke that these have any power o [...] authoritie to beare away one soule to Hell, nor these others to shut up in their [Page] darke dennes, vnlesse it be by the expresse commandement and particular commission of God. And so much concerning these hellish Officer [...].

As for its largenesse, it is such, that all sorts of sinfull soules enter into Hell, and it is ordinarily full fraughted and peopled with Blasphemers, Perjur'd persons, Murtherers, Adulterers, Envious persons, and to conclude with all sorts of Evill-doers: who although they have in common the essentiall paine, which is the wanting of God, and are all of them in Hell, yet they have severall roomes and torments according to everie ones deserving, sithence it is certaine [Page] that the paine of him that oweth little shall not be so great at all as the paine of him that oweth much, and that the just Iudge chastiseth and recompense [...]h every one according as he deserveth.

To all this varietie is added the extreme confusion of Hell, the disorder, the vnquietnesse, the vnrulie cariage, and con [...]in ualagitation, with which they are alwaies tormented, seeing it is evident, that where rage and despaire reigneth, there can be no friendly fellowship nor agreement.

This estate, practise & disposition of the horrible pit of this hellish lodging is the lively pourtraict of that desperate life, which men suffer in prison, in which the beholder [Page] shal find so in tire & so mutuall a correspondence that there is not almost any other difference between them but in the name. Because that first to the essentiall paine of Hel, which is the depriving of Gods powerful presence, the want of liberty hath correspondence, which with a just [...]i [...]le we may cal a paine essentiall, for so much as it is the queen of al the apprehēsions & motives of sorrow, which are able to afflict a good wit.

And as in that, the soule being deprived of God, it is also deprived of all worldly pleasures, even so in this (to wit in prison) it enjoyeth not any thing which hath the least shadow of content. Because that although a prisoner were clothed with purPurple, [Page] served as a King, fed with the most delicate vitailes of the world, his Chamber hang'd with cloth of gold, that hee were entertained with all sort of Musicke, visited by his parents and friends, all this, nor all that could be desired more could bring him any kinde of comfort. On the contrary he should have lesse, because that all things availe nothing but to awaken his appetite and make him desire that which others enjoy, and to which he cannot attaine. Whenceproceedeth the increasing of his want (of libertie) and consequently his paine.

The harshnesse and force of depriving (of libertie) may be easily, known by its [Page] contrarie, this being infallible that the depriving of one thing shall be by so much evill as the possession of it shall be good. And libertie being the most precious Iewell of the soule, and the greatest perfection, which the vnbounded Author of this, hath engrafted in the reasonable creature; it is certaine that the depriving thereof shall be the most crosse and vnsufferable of all others. That libertie is that which guideth and directe [...]h mans actions to diverse ends, without enforcing them and with pleasure, choosing, and commanding, experience teacheth this, in which the supreme work-master would distinguish man from other living creatures, whose end [Page] obtaineth by a naturall instinct, which leadeth them, as by a bridle, to the appetite and delight in it, and that it is so powerfull, and maketh man so absolute, that his vnderstanding having proposed the good, the perfect, the honest and the delectable, he may resolve with himselfe to love it or not to love it at all, sith that none but God may aske a reason of this so absolute commandement, Naturall Philosophie telleth it. Whence and from many other reasons, which I could bring, it is clearely perceived that there is not any thing in the world, to which the essentiall paine of Hell can more properly be compared, than to the depriving of libertie, seeing it bringeth [Page] man to such extremitie, that he abhorreth himselfe, his being, his ranke, and his estate.

He knoweth well this truth which I write, who hath sometimes beene in prison, laded with chaines and with irons, subject to the rage of that terrible abode, cursing (though Noble and well borne) his being, his condition and Noblenesse, grieving to be that which he is, and wishing to be a great deale meaner. In midst of which despaire hee envieth the peaceable condition and tranquillity, of the Commons, and could wish to have beene borne of the most base dregs of the people. He curseth his actions and his studies, the points of [Page] honour which his parents taught him, the vnderstanding which he hath, thinking with himselfe, that if he were a privat man, he should not at all see himselfe in so miserable and so extreame a perplexitie, and that this would not be litle enough for him, if despaire left him amongst the folke of that same sort and nature: but it goeth on refining and consuming him in the fire of impatience, in such sort, that it draweth him out of his reasonable being, and bringeth him to that of a brute beast, and to the most base and infinite kindes of them, that groaning for libertie, he envieth the bird that flieth, the Dog that barketh, the Pismire that travelleth, and desireth [Page] to be one of them. And the venome of this fierce beast stayeth not there, for tying harder the cords of a poore prisoner, it draweth him out of the ranke and file of living creatures, making him desire to be a tree, an image or a stone, bringing him to nothing, and making him bewaile that ever hee was borne in the world. By which it is clearely seene that the want of liberty making so unhappy a change in man, as to throw him headlong from the highest & most perfect of his inclination and appetite, to the basest and lowest, and from the image and likenesse of God, to nothing; this is the most strong and most rigorous paine that can be imagined, [Page] and that which truely doth better represent the essential paine of Hell.

To the accidentall paine doe correspond the innumerable afflictions and calamities, which follow the depriving of libertie, amongst which are the stinke of the prison, the disorderly frame of the buildings, the defamed companie, the continuall and huge lewd voices, the diversitie of nations, the differing humors, the shame, the persecution, the difgrace, the mocquerie, the crueltie, the blowes, the torments, the poverty and the miseries without number, which are suffered in prison, of the which, and of other depriving of libertie the lively patterne of Hell is [Page] framed and composed.

As touching the executioners and officers, no man will deny but that all the earth is full of incarnat Divells, more obstinate and more accursed in their kinde than those of Hell, the most part of them being fallen, as Lucifer and his followers, from the Heaven of honour. I will say that for the deserving, and sinnes which they have committed, the Angell Saint Michael, who is the Iustice, hath drawne them from the fellowship and dwelling of the good, and they seeing themselves beaten downe and dishonoured, have taken vpon them the office of Divels, to avenge themselves of the poore innocent soules, running day [Page] & night thorow the streets, markets and publike places of the Citie, smelling out and searching for people to lay them in prison. And these are they who commonly are called Sergeants, who drag a poore man to prison with such rage and tyrannie, as these in the perpetuall Hell could not utter more. And if we be able to find any difference betweene them, it is this, that the Divells of Hell fly from the signe of the Crosse; but those of the prison love, reverence and adore that happy signe, in such sort, that hee who would deale well with them, and somewhat turne their rigour into a litle pitie, it is necessarie that hee have alwayes the Crosse in his [Page] hands, for at what time hee shall leave it, they will torment him ten times more than his sinne can deserve: but they having met with him, they say a Pater noster for the soule which they take, untill they come to da nobis bodie, and they goe not at all any further.

These Divells are those who walke commonly through the streetes, and places of the Citie, seeking for soules in the most secret corners, the multitude and trade of whom is so great, that I doe n [...] thinke there are more Legions of Divels in Hell, than there be Sergeants in the Commonwealth. Amongst them there be some that goe on horsebacke, who have charge to [Page] travell into the Countrey, unto places farre remote from the Citie, and to bring men into prison from places most solitarie and quiet. These, for that they being of a more haughtie nature than the others, we may call Orientalls from the Region of fire, and these are called Archers or Messengers, the Legion or companie of whom hath for their Chieftaine or Captaine a great Divell whom they call Provest.

There are other Divels in this Hell, the i [...]feriors of the aforenamed, who goe ordinarily by tens or twenties in a companie, disguised and masked, to spie if they can catch one poore soule by treacherie, they are so [Page] cowardly so effeminate and dastardly, that they meete sometimes to the number of fortie and all to take one man, and yet they dare not adventure to take him their selves alone, without the assistance and aide of a Divell with a long gown, who vsually accompanieth them. They goe alwayes atter'd, torne and naked, and this is the lowest and most infinite Legion of all as the Hob-goblins vnder ground, whom the people have beene accustomed to call Apparitors.

Every Legion of these Divells have an infinite number of halfe-divells who goe disguised and covered through the Citie,Spanish apparitors what sort of people. taking notice of all that is [Page] done there, with great subtiltie and craft. They take and change every day a thousand formes and shapes, shewing themselves in every companie in a severall manner; at one occasion going like countrey-men, in an other like strangers, by & by of one profession, and by and by of another. These are they who with great sleight and subtiltie discover the price, after the same manner as the lying dogs doe the partridges, bringing the aforesaid Divels to the proper place of the soule, which they would take, and pointing it out as with the finger: and these we call Spies, and amongst them they are called Recorders.

There be other Divels, [Page] who are esteemed more noble and more courteous, whose office is to repeale penalties, commissions, requests, to baile a soule, and to take the burthen on themselves, answering for it every time that the Iudge asketh for it. And though it be in their keeping, they give it alwayes time and place to solicite its owne affaires, to visite its Iudges, and to pleade its cause, vsing with it some pitie and friendship. Finally they have a nature mingled with goodnesse and malice, and they are betweene Divels and Angels, whom by reason of the familiaritie which they have with man, wee may call them Airie Divells; and these the common [Page] people call doorekeepers.

All these aforesaid divels, & others whom I leave to mention for avoiding prolixitie, are found in the world, every one of whom goeth severall waies, leading soules into the Hell of prison, & all of them, after the manner of evil spirits are divided into divers Legions and troopes. Yet notwithstanding they torment not the soules because they enter not into Hell themselves, onely they deliver them to Lucifers Lievetenant the Iayler, & returne incontinent vnto their walke; for to give up their account to their Captaine, of the tentations which they have practized that day, and of the number of soules which they have carried that day to prison, every [Page] one of them reckoning up the inventions & wiles which he hath practized in his hellish Office. There be also other divells which never go out of the prisō, nor have any other imployment, but to torment the poore soules which enter in thither. And those are so tyrannous, so cruel & so wicked, that they satisfie not their inraged hunger but by sucking the bloud, & the life of the poore captive that fals among their hands: albeit they suffer him to breath so long; while they have emptied his purse. And these be the under porters & servants of the Iayler, who, as a President of that dreadfull dwelling, receives the prisonner from the hands of the Sergeant and writes in his booke the day of his [Page] entring, his accusation, his name and the name of that Divell that hath taken him.

These shut-up Divells have no power nor authoritie to torment a soule which the others do bring in, nor these others to take them, but by the command of Iustice declared by some honourable Officer, who with reason and truth by a signed writing chargeth these uncleane spirits to take such a soule.

As for the rest it may well be proved that every Sergeant hath power to leade a man to prison, even so as every Divell may beare a soule to Hell, seeing that there ordinarily entreth thither an infinite number of prisoners, and every one imprisoned by his severall [Page] Iudge: some answer before a Iudge with a long gown, others before one with a short gown, without reckoning, many other officers of Iustice, who as good Angels have authoritie and power to exercise it, who have their appointed and praticular Divels, who execute their commandment and will.

As touching the diversitie of the lodgings and places of their abode, the curious shall see many differing in the prison, every one fitted for the prisoners delight. For hee who is not criminall, and who is Noble is usually lodged in the lightsomest chambers and neatest contrived: but understand that the Noblenesse of a prison consisteth in a good purse. Those [Page] that be of a meaner qualitie & deserving are fitted in certain darke & black chambers, where smoke and cinders continually bearesway.

The prison hath yet this property of Hel, to take in all sort of sinners & criminals, being usually peopled, and full of Theeves, Russians, Cut-purses, Panders, Whoores, Murtherers, Perjured men, Bankrupts, Cheaters, Usurers, & Sorcerers, in as great varietie as the living creatures that entered into Noahs Arke, so that entry is not denied nor the gate shut against any.

Of this remarkeable variety the confused multitude of a prison is composed with a thousād other circumstances which accompanie it, which because it is altogether disorderly [Page] & without bounds I shal not be able to reduce it to one terme or name, nor to give it a definition which Universally comprehendeth all the miseries of this dreadfull dwelling, if the curious Reader will not be contented with the Analogie and proportion which it hath with the perpetuall Hell. The which being supposed as a thing most proper to a prison, we shall be able to describe it by its properties & by experience, saying, that a prison is no other thing but a land of calamitie▪ a dwelling of darkenes, a habitation of miserie or an eternall horrour inhabited without any kind of order. It is a confused Chaos without any dis [...]inction, it is a bottomles pit of violence which [Page] hath nothing that is in its own center, it is a tower of Babylon where all speake and none heare, it is a medley against nature, in which is seene the peace and agreement of two contraries, mingling the Noble with the infamous, the rich with the poore, the civill with the criminall, the sinner with the just, it is a communaltie with agreement; one whole by accident, a composition without parts, a Religion without orders or Lawes, and a body without a head. The prison is the grave of Noblenesse, the banishment of courtes [...]e, the poyson of honour, the center of infamie, the quintessence of disparagement; the hell of good wits, the [...] [Page] of pretences, the paradise of cousenage, the martyrdome of innocence, the cloude of truth, the treasure of despaire the fining-pot of friendship, the wakener of rage, the baite of impatience, the mine of treasons, a den of Foxes, the refuge of vengeance: the punishment of force, and the headsman of life. There he that yesterday was great, to day is meane; hee that was happy in the City, now starveth there; he that was richly clad, is starke naked, he that commanded, obeyeth; he that had his court full of caroches and rich saddles, findeth not now one more to visite him. There civilitie is turned into insolence, courage to subtiltie▪ [...]amelesse outfacing into [Page] vertue, blasphemie into valour, flattery into eloquence lyes to truth, silence to noise modestie to boldnesse, knowledge to ignorance, and order to confusion: And to end the miserie of that unluckie place: I conclude in saying that it is a forrest full of wilde beasts, in which the one teareth the other, eating his heart and drinking his bloud, so that no scruple of conscience, feare of God, suspition of love, compassion or other respect whatsoever which can have any shadow of vertue or of goodnesse is able to hinder them. There one weepeth and another singeth, one prayeth and another blasphemeth, one sleepeth, another wal [...]eth, one goeth out, another [Page] commeth in, one is condemned, another absolved, one payeth, another demandeth, and finally one shall hardly finde two of one exercise and will. One will be eating in a corner, another will pisse behind him: and in the middle of them another shall pull off his shirt and strip himselfe starke naked. Every one is imployed in his particular exercise, they not having any other houre or time appointed for that save their will, which being disordered, free in its actions, produceth them without any let or shame. In that which concerneth the sustenance of life, there is no order kept there among them, because that hunger is their appetite, their time of [Page] meales alwayes, their table the bare board, their sawce the nastinesse and filthy stinke, and their musicke sneesing and belchings. The hangings of their chambers are all mourning, with some borders of spiders-cloth (cobwebs), their seates the ground or some stone greased with two inches of fat Bacon. The Dishes where they eate are alwayes enemies to cleanlinesse, to serve for a pot-lid and other vses more base, and for spoones they are served with five fingers spotted like Iasper, and having their nailes of a huge length. As for their drinke, the industrie of man teacheth them to make a pit in the top of their Hat, and to drinke in it more grease than [Page] wine. And if peradventure there be found among them a pot or kettle, it shall be, according to the order and custome of the prison, batter'd without a handle, nor without vernish, and hath past the first yeare of apprentiship, and hath beene vsed in the most base offices, serving for a pisse-pot, for a Flagon, for a vineger bottle, for an oile-pot and a bason. As for napkins, they take their skirts, or the outside of their breeches, and for a tablecloth the wrongside of a poore old cloake, threedbare and fuller of Beasts than that linnen cloth which S. Peter saw in Da [...]ascus. In their garments they keepe a great uniformitie, going all of them clothed after the [Page] manner of Lent, and with S. Austins habite, but so tatter'd and pucker'd, and so fitted to the passions and necessities of their bodies, so that without breaking their cod-piece point they want not a perpetuall loosenesse to satisfie their flux of the belly. They live Apostollically, without scrip without staffe and without shooes, having nothing superfluous nor double: contrariwise there is so great simplicitie that they cover all their body with one only shirt, whereof many times they have no more save the sleeves, and they never leave it off till it can go alone of its owne accord. If Momu [...] should come into the prison he could finde nothing to [Page] reprove them for, because one may see them to the very intralls. The combe, tooth-pickers, brush, handkerchiefe, looking-glasse, sope-balls are banisht from this place: of which povertie groweth so great an abundance that in their head, beard, stomack & flanck [...]s a camell might be hidden. We cannot say that there is any kinde of vices in the prison, because that idlenesse the mother of them hath no entrie there, because they are all carefull and watchfull to search for that which is necessarie for life: and their overplus time they spend in exercising themselves on diverse instruments of Musicke having the itch for the Mistresse of that vertue.

[Page] They have also their appointed houres for the military Art, in the which they fight with their bodily enemies, whence they retire evermore with the victorie, bearing continually for triumph & trophees the bloud on their nailes. They live in Evangelicall hope never troubling themselves with the care of that which they should eate or drinke to morrow. Their ordinarie comfort is the faith and hope which they have to come out of prison one day, and put an end to their miseries. With this comfort they live, ever dying, putting cataracts and deceiveable imaginations before the eyes of their reason. And if by chance the time of their imprisonment [Page] endeth, and Iustice giveth assent that some one of them goe forth, then the Divell is so carefull and so watchfull troubling and quelling his libertie, that it seemeth to him there are no gates through which hee can get out. One withholds him asking a debt thirtie yeares old, another the succession of one of his grandfathers, and another sheweth a band more ancient than the deluge. And when his diligence and meanes have delivered him from his enemies without, these within doores begin to thunder out another song, for one demandeth of him five shillings which he lent him eleven months ago, another that should pay for a pot which [Page] he brake to him, another draweth forth a bill of reckoning, asking him for ten eggs and a sallet which he paid for him. This man demandeth that he should pay him the good-morrow's which he hath given him, another the good nights, one askes his Cap, another his Doublet, another his Shooes and all lay hold upon him. And when he escapeth this importunate swarm of Bees, these tunes begin to deafe his eares; the Iayler demands of him the rights of the prison, his entrance, his going forth, and the time that he hath tarried there, for his sleeping, his talking, his eating, his sneesing and his coughing, and all the time that he hath lived within [Page] there, making more scores in his booke than an Astrologer on the erecting of an Horoscope. And when he hath given him that which he demands of him without reason, he askes his gloves, his Iayle fees, his slippers, his old shooes and a coife for the maide-servant. The Dog askes him to pay for his watching and barking that he hath kept for him while he slept, the Cat for the paines she hath taken to cleare his chamber from Mice and Rats, one pulls him on this side and another on that, and all catch hold of him like briers, while they have left him dry, pluckt bare, throng'd and as naked as his mother bare him.

This in briefe termes, is [Page] the miserable practise of thi [...] living patterne of Hell, with all its circumstances, in every one of which there [...] matter enough to make [...] long and profound discourse▪ That the Reader may be [...] thinke himselfe hereof, that being affrighted at the hardnesse thereof, he may avoide the dangerous inconveniences which are presented every day to a man as long as he is at libertie: for if he fall once into the Divels hands, and beforced to passe through the wicket of Hell, though his cause were his protector, he should waite for S. Michael; and if Iustice were his protector, he should ever remaine burnt with the marke of Hell, into which who so once entereth, hee [Page] leaueth the best thing that he hath amongst Pluto's hands. And albeit that hee enter there fuller and richer than the Queene of Saba when she came to see King Salomon, he shall come forth more lanke, more drie and more feeble than the seven kine that Pharaoh saw in his dreames.

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CHAP. II.
Of a pleasant discourse whic [...] the Author had in Prison with a famous Theife.

TO the end that none be deceived with this proverbe which▪ most men hold for a Maxime, when they say, That all noveltie is well pleasing; because that albeit Logicke should not condemne this proposition as false, experience would discover its deceit: for I doe not thinke that [Page] there is any one in the world that hath found the prison pleasant, even at the first time that he entred therein. I may say of my selfe, that when I was there, though it was new to me I found not any thing that I liked; on the contrarie, the pleasure which novelties bring with them was turned into notable admiration and extreame paine, seeing that which willingly I would not have seene, and talking of that which lea [...] pleased me. I spent the first dayes even as all those, who enter into that place have beene accustomed to passe them, which is to con [...]ider the lodgings, to be vexed at the companie, and to shun the familiar conversing with the [Page] prisoners. And I might have past all the time of my imprisonment in such like employment, if it had lien in my power to do it, because that the companie invited me not to acquaint my selfe. But the necessitie being accompanied with exceeding great curiositie which prisoners have, when any one entereth newly into prison, tied me to frame my selfe to the usuall fashion of these people, from whom I had a sufficent report of the subjects and qualities of that habitation, without other paines-taking than to give them the hearing, because that by it a discreete man shall know moe sins in foure dayes than a Confessor in a hundreth yeares. In the conclusion [Page] with a faire shew and some pieces that I had in my purse I purchased the good will of all the rable, in such sort, that there was not any man of what ranke soever who did not esteem much of me, & participated not with me the most inward of his conscience. But the continu [...]ll companie of this tedious [...] conversation troubled me, in such sort that I was not mine owne, nor had I the libertie to spend one quarter of an houre by my selfe alone. So lessayed by a thousand meanes to ridde my selfe from the head-strong importunities of those undiscreet people, but it was not possible for me to free my selfe, without taking the office that I had [Page] got over them. Wherefore I was desirous to trie, if in this martyrdome, seeing I deserved no such thing, I could finde some pleasure to divert my minde and entertaine them. So continuing my no lesse accustomed than troublesome occupation, sitting one day upon a bench which was in the Chappell of the prison, in the companie of three or foure of these gallants, hearing some difficulties, whereof they were come to consult with mee upon the ten Commandements, I heard the Echo of a sorrowfull voyce, which called me pitifully. All the standers by were amazed; one of them ranne to be informed of this vnlooked-for newes, but the [Page] speedy hast of him, which sought for me, prevented the curiositie of him who was gone out to know the newes; for [...]carsty had we heard the voyce, when after it, entred at the doore one of my religious followers (held in great esteeme amongst those people who were none of the holiest) with his colour changed, his virage bathed with teares, without a Hat, his [...] crossed, sighing and be serching with great [...] the companie, that they would let him be alone with me, amplifying his request by the [...] of th [...]se, as the pricipall [...] of mishap. They departed the place, and he seeing himselfe alone and with freedome to discover his [Page] thoughts to me, without any other preface, preamble, advertisement or courtesie, he said to me.

Sir, to day is my feast day, and they have made me a gift of a clarke of a harbour, with a Cardinalls Hat: what remedie shall I be able to finde for so great a mischiefe. Verily this darke speech of his words, together with the manner of telling it, held mee somewhat in doubt, because I knew not how to comment upon so vncouth a language followed with so many fights and groanes. Neverthelesse making [...] these words and already guessing that which it might be, I beleeved that he had got this hat at some pot of wine [Page] and that out of the abundance thereof this noble dignitie had climed up to the head. So smiling I said to him: My friend, the Post that hath brought you this newes, is he of a douzen or of twentie? It is not of twelue, nor offoure, unhappy man that I am! answered he, for I am not drunke, nor ever was I in all my lifetime, and would to God that all the world were so retired in this action as I am: but as the Proverbe saith, some have the name, the others have the eff [...]ct. And you doe not well to make a poore unhappie wretch that askes your counsell in his extreame affliction. His answer to the purpose redoubled my astonishment, and not being able [Page] to hit at that which this might meane, I said to him somewhat in anger; Make an end then to relate to me the cause of your paine, and hold me no more in doubt with your darke speeches or ridles. Now I know, Sir, said he, that yee have not studied Martiall tearmes, nor you vnderstand not as yet Galunatias his stile, so it will be hard for you to vnderstand the comming together of two solide bodies with the perspective of red flowers in a white field. From this second answer I fully resolved that hee was not drunke, but foolish, and as to such a one, I agreed with him to all that he said, although I vnderstood him never a whit. And taking the [Page] subject to reason with him upon the same reasons, I asked him, who made him a Cardinall and why? To which he answered me thus. You should understand that some officers of the three and of the five of Topo & Tango vpon the Seventh and the Goe met me one Sunday at midnight and finding me with the [...] de bastons the lot would that they should run a hazard,These theevis [...] words of the trade are afterward made cleare. and I remained with the money. They were deceived, and desiring to revenge their wrong, they went to Scipion, declaring an Vniversall head which they had seene in my hands, upon which they made long [...]ormations by the Signe [...] [...] [...]: and at the end of a rigorous examination [Page] which they had of me, they found mee not good enough to be Pope, they left me the office of a Cardinall. You ought to account your selfe happy, I answerd him, having so great a dignitie, seeing that few obtaine it, and these with great paines and travell. I would quite it, with all my heart, saith he, and that without pension, if any one would receive it for mee, and I would moreover binde my selfe to him to pay for the seales, because to speake the truth, it is a charge too heavy for me, and hee that gives it, hath not any good reputation among the people nor many friends in the [...] and this is the cause that I make no great account of it▪ [Page] And doe not thinke that in saying, that I will no wayes accept of it, I can helpe my selfe of this paine: for it is not in my power, nor in theirs who receive the like charges to be able to refuse them, sithence dignities are bestowed by deservings, and albeit that men refuse them, they are made to take them by force, that no man may refuse them nor make resistance by too great humilitie, they binde it upon him as if he were a foole. Truely my friend, said I then to him; you ought to account your selfe happy and very fortunate, for such an election; this being supposed that it is made for deserving, and not for favour. Very fortunate, saith hee, assuredly I [Page] am, howbeit an vnworthy sinner, but no wise happy, for if I were, I should not be very fortunate. With this answer I began to see clearly, that he was neither foolish nor drunke: but that dissembling hee covered his words of this his chatting, and resolute to leave him with his —I rise speaking to him some harsh words, to which hee answered with great humilitie, saying, Sir I beseech you to stay your choler a litle: for it is not without a mysterie, that I have spokē to you in a riddle, and beleeve me that in this I have had no other intention, but to hide my mishaps from some—who usually watch harkning after the life of another, to [Page] report them to their copsemates. But now seeing that I can utter it to you without feare I will explaine my selfe, being well assured that a man of so good a wit as you are, will not be offended to heare my weakenesse, and will not deny me your good counsell which out of your charitie I promise to my selfe. So know that Cardinall is that which to day at noone one hit mee over the shoulders: The Clarke of harbour hee that receiveth such as are condemned to the Gallies: those of three, are some of our companie, are some that watch the streete, when any theft is committed, and these have the third part▪ Those of Five are some honorable persons, or [Page] at least held for such by th [...] common people, who hid [...] and keepe the theft in their house, and for that the fifth part is given to them. Now you shall know that by misliking I being one night in a list that was made, the booty was so little, that there was not whereof to make neither fourth nor fifth, and I being the man that put himselfe in greatest danger I was willing to goe away with all, promising to redresse the bygone fault in another more gainefull occasion. Those of Seven; and Goe, I will tell my companions found not this satisfaction to the purpose, which I gave them, because that absolutely they would have their share I seeing that it was altogether [Page] impossible, for that I had already eaten it, turned the processe to a quarrell, and laying hold on a baton which is the As that you have heard, gave one of them a sound blow over the head; who seeing himselfe wounded, and his companions cheated, went to S. Scipion who is the Major, and accused mee that I was a theife at Crochet, which is an instrument where with we open all manner of doores, and following the accusation they made me be laid up in prison▪ The Lords of the Court, whom we call [...], To be whipt at the Carts taile. condemned mee to goe the accustomed rounds about the streets, and [...] to serve his [...] in the Gallies of [Page] Marseilles. Which execution should be made this same day at noone; I tremble because ten a clocke is strucke already. If ye have any remedy to give me, ye will doe a great worke of mercy, because I feare that the Hangman having stript mee, and finding five markes about me which were unjustly given me,Burnd on the shoulders. doubtlesse he will make mee take a shorter journey. The wretch had proceeded thus far with the explaining of darke speech, ere ever [...] could break off his discourse; so great was the astonishment which his entangled met aphors left me in, & ending his story with a deep sigh, which came from his very soule, he fell halfe, dead betweene my armes. He being come [...] [Page] himselfe againe, I began to comfort him the best I possibly could, counselling, for the last remedy to appeale to the Court, hoping alwayes for more mercie, from the highest seate of justice, than from the inferior Iudges Scarcely had I ended my words but three or foure of his companions, dying for laughter enter'd at the Chappell doore, saying to him that the newes which they had tolde him were false, and those lashes were imaginary, that it was a tricke of his enemies maliciously invented to trouble and vexe him. With this newes the poore wretch came againe so suddenly to his first estate, that save there remained some remembrance [Page] of his first taking it to heart, he cut moe than five and twenty capers in the ayre, with a thousand turnings of good liking, and his companions began to play upon him, in which he paid them home their change, with so wittie answers, that hee left me a great desire, to keepe him with me all alone, and at leasure to know at length his vocation and office, and the cleering of some obscure words which he usually mingled in his discourse; so I intreated him, but he knowing that I had such a desire, in requitall of the patience with which I had heard him, and of the good counsell, which I had given him in his neede, he promist to give me a good account of his life, of his [Page] parents life, and the changeable successes which happened to him in his trade; with all particulars which could be learned amongst those of his office, & having appointed me a place at two in the afternoone; we went to dinner.

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CHAP. III.
To whom the Theefe relateth the Noblenesse and Excellencie of Theft.

THe good Andrew (for so hee was called) was not at all slothfull to be at the place appointed, nor to declare to me the Historie which I had requested with so great a desire: for halfe an houre before that, which wee had appointed, I found that hee waited for me with extreame impatience and so great, that almost without [Page] saluting me, hee began to relate his Historie, saying. Know, Sir, that if from the time of your birth ye should have gone searching through all the Universities of the world for some one, who with more ground, experience & le [...]rning then I could informe you of that which yee desire to know, it were impossible to finde him: seeing that in this which toucheth (and let this be spoken without vanitie) the understāding of the riddles of Mercurie Trismegstus, and other darke Philosophers, and to be, as they say, of the right haire and feathers, I will not yeelde it to any man in the world. With this and other secrets reserved to my own onely discretion I have found [Page] out the Philosophers stone and the true Elixar of life, with which I turne poyson into medicine, the course cloth into cloth of gold, and hunger into fulnesse and satietie more than sufficient, without putting any thing to it of my goods, save the turning of a hand. I doe not deale as a thousand other ignorant people of our daies, who being blinded by the gainfull end which the practise of the great Philosophers-stone promiseth them doe adventure rashly to spend all to finde nothing, & to vndoe a hundred thousand essences to finde one fifth both vncertaine and false, whose excesse and curiositie have none other end but infamie, miscrie and povertie, [Page] and finally a shamefull death: for as much as those who have consum'd their owne goods and the goods of their friends, to search for that which they have not found, utter their rage with strokes of hammers upon the seven mettals, which are the cause of their overthrow. And which is worse, with all the tryalls and vnhappie ends of Alcumists, there is not any man to whom curiositie will not awaken the appetite, and provoke the will every time that he heareth any man talke of this arte. Mine is not of this kinde, and therefore lesse subject to the fancies and idle imaginations of Gebor Arnaut, Raymond Lully and other great Advancers [Page] of the arte, whose knowledge consisteth in not to be understood; it is easie, plaine and without any mixture Neverthelesse he who he [...] will that shall exercise it, it is necessarie that hee be wise, prudent and well advised, because that wanting or failing in one whatsoever it be of these things, a man shall easily lose in an instant all that he hath gained in all his life. This noble art also hath not Aristotles principles, because that as well he as all others that follow him, imagined that nothing could be made of nothing: this being true that in this our Art, all things are made of nothing; and if we may attribute any principle of them which he propoundeth [Page] in his Physicks, it is the pri [...]ation only▪ seeing that from it alone we come to the possession of infinit wealth. As [...]or our tooles, I cōfesse there are some, forasmuch as there is no trade that can be without them, but neverthelesse they are so easie & so cheape, that we well nigh make them our selves, after they are made, they last time out of minde. The ground then to busie one of our trade, is onely the good courage and sound disposition of his body and limmes, and with this alone a man becommeth his crafts-master, without any other ornament—And doe no [...] think that this Art, having so poore a beginning as nothing, is shamful or infamous, for it is the most noble, the [Page] absolute and the most priviledged of all those that are in the world, so farre forth that acknowledgeth nor respecteth neither King nor knave, nor careth it for all the Monarchs of the earth, nor for the Ecclesiastike power, nor for the Secular: but rather all pay tribute and travels for him. Its fields are fruitfull in drie grounds, it gathers the fruit without sowing, it hath no traffique with any, and demands of all, it lendeth to no body, and all are indebted to it, its harvests grow without raine, and there is not any thing whereof it taketh not the tithes. There commeth not any fleete from the Indies, nor great ship from the Levant, wherof [Page] of it not make shew to be partner, there is not a Guine Marchant, that is not its debtor, and finally, it catcheth up all. And which ought to be most valued in this pretious Art, is the great ease with which it is exercised, in which it exceeds all other Arts, that are till these our times found out in the world, the end of which is contrary to that of this, because that is perfected in the doing, this in undoing, and to undoe being more easie than to doe (as the Philosopher saith) doubtlesse it is [...]ut that our Art is easier than all others whose end is obtained with great paines, travells and difficulties.

Honest Andrew had proceeded further in the praises [Page] and excellencie of his trade, if I had not broke him off with an extreame impatience, the titles of honour and noblenesse which hee gave it seeming to me altogether improper, as well for that it is of it selfe imfamous, as for the innumerable dangers which usually happen to them, who undertake such like traffiques: wherefore I said to him; I do not know, Andrew, how nor by what reason you your selfe reckon up to me these Arts so noble, so easie and so profitable, seeing that you have related to me the perilous extremities in which you have beene, which your povertie and calamity assure me to be of little profit & of great misery which is therein, that makes mee [Page] to marvel very much at your persevering in your unhappy trade, ere you were made wise by the experiences past. You have reason (he answered) and I confesse that many hazards and disgraces light upon vs, but one Oxe eateth more than a hundred Larks, I will say that one good encounter shoulders out many disgraces, which have not in so great number as you thinke, and though they were, it is not possible for vs to give over this trade but by death, because this Art hath I cannot tell what with it, that it is like one sicke of the Dropsie, who the more he drinks the more he thirsts, and of one onely act there becommeth a habite, qui difficilè removetur a [Page]subjecto, which is hardly removed from the subject. And I know wel that you wil like my doctrine well, being so learned a man as you are, seeing they are accustomed to dispute among the Philosophers if this maxime of Aristotle (who saith Expluribus actibus generatur habitus, of many actions is begot a habit) be Universally true. And some say that of one only action a habit may be bred, which should be understood of morall actions, and those of worser sort: I will affirme that to breede a continuall custome in sinning, one only action is sufficient: but to doe well, there is need of many. The reason is cleere, for that the will of man being disposed to sinne, [Page] because it is called fomes peccati, the fewell of sinne, and for the miseries drawen upon it in its conception, one action alone leaveth in it a certaine inward disposition with which it becommeth easie, and disposed to like actions; but the desire being so marred, corrupt and ill disposed to receive vertue, there needeth not only one vertuous action, but many, if any disposition or custome of doing well should remaine after it. By which you may judge that albeit a thousand disgraces fall upon us it were almost impossible for us to forsake our trade, nor change our life, having already turned it into a nature, and if this should be done, it should be needfull to make the [Page] world a new againe, more or lesse all wooll is haire, we are all of us of one brothers hood, no man is content with his state, he that hath most desireth more, that which costeth little agreeth best with us, and all (as the Proverbe goeth) like well.

But mishap be to that infortunat man who payeth for all; for as the Proverb saith, the Gallowes are for all such, we rubbe all men, and for those sinnes some are hang'd, others are rich▪ Happy are they who robbe Hippocrates-like, I will speake as the Physitians; whose faults the earth covereth, so that no man is able to accuse them, nor aske restitution of his life, and of the money which they have [Page] publickly rob'd and in the view of all the world. And though some of these be spirituall men, others temporall, notwithstanding all meete in the same way, and shoote at one marke: for there be also horseleeches which sucke the world sweetly, and wring their necke, with a sad dumpish countenance, and a faire shew colour their ambitious designes with godly words. And for them, it is said in the Proverbe, the Divell is behinde the Crosse. There are others also, who though they wring not the necke, nor speake so much of God, apply neverthelesse the jurisdiction of their offices in favour of him that giveth them most; who being lap't [Page] in long wide gownes making them to bee respected there is not a man that dare to give thē a word, nor shew by any signe the evil satisfaction that they have by them: but the wretched person that neither hath God in his mouth, nor barke wherwith to hide himselfe, if he be not very wise & prudent all the persecutions of the world hang about him at once, all men spit in his face, and he is the marke of all the abuses in the world: wherfore blame not our Art before you understand it; for you should so offend all the world & perhaps your selfe, sith no man liveth without f [...]ult. How much more if you knew what sweetnesse thereis to gather the fruit where one hath not planted, and to find [Page] the in gathering in his garner & in his cellar, himself having neither fielde nor vineyard, you would even licke your fingers at it. Is this a smal matter I pray you, that a man riseth in the morning not having penny nor farthing, nor knowing yet whence to have it for to nourish his family, and yet ere night he is worth a hundred crownes, & knoweth not whence they came? Is this a small matter in greatest sloth and necessitie to finde apparell cut and slasht without paying either for stuffe or making? Is there any such Noblenesse in the world, as to be a Gentleman without rents, and to have other mens goods so his own, as that hee may dispose of them at his will, without [Page] costing him any more but to take them? Doe you thinke it a small matter to be a Marchant without a stocke, to gaine two hundreth for nothing, without crossing the seas, going to faire or market, not caring if the Marchant turne banque-rupt, if the yeare be barren or plentiful, if wares be deare or cheape?

And if ye will take our trade by way of reputation or credit, doth it seeme a small thing to you, to finde one who will insure us our life, whatsoever wee doe, and to have at our becke some Iudges, who save us from the lash from the Gallies, from torture & from the Gallowes only with a single & wel-assured promise to satisfie them with the gaine of our next [Page] theft? And that they do this not only for us, but for our friends, kindred and acquaintance? Abuse not your selfe, and acknowledge that there is no life more assured in this world than ours, for instead of one displeasure that wee have, there are infinite pleasures and contentments to be enjoyed. And [...] much for my profession and trade.

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CHAP. IIII.
To him the Thiefe relateth the life and death of his Parents and the first disgrace that befell him.

AS for my race, you shall know that I am a man borne of a woman, in a town of this world, whose name I lost in a sicknesse which I had in the yeare sixe hundred and foure. My, father was called Peter and my mother Hope, people, though meane, honorable and vertuous, of good reputation and praise-worthy manners. And as for the [Page] goods of fortune, they were not so great, that they were able to give bribes, nor marry Orphans out of their meanes, nor so meane, that they obliged themselves to aske almes, nor to subject themselves to any man, but they were people that knew how to live, and that had bread to eate, and clothes to put on. In all the course of their life there was nothing found that they could be reproched for, nor whereof they could be reproved, because they heeded no other thing (particularly my mother) but to keepe their honour and the good esteeme which they had gained, for which and for the freedoome and faire conditions of their proceedings [Page] and conversation, all the world honored and loved them. But as vertue is ordinarily envied, and honest people persecuted, there was no want of malicious and wicked people, who by false and rash calumnies darkned the brightnesse and glistering of their good works & the cleannes of their life. They were accused (I say) to have robbed a Church, to have spoiled the Vestrie with the ornaments and chalices, and which is worse, to have cut off S. Bartholomews hand, who was upon an Altar, which they said was of silver. An accusation as malicious as false, especially, for my mothers part, whose devotion towards the Saints [Page] was so great, that when she went to Church, if my father had not pull'd her out by the haire, or the Sexton had not shut the doore against her, there was no meanes to make her come out of the Church, although shee had beene three dayes without meate, and her devotion was so knowne to all the people, that she never came forth to the streete, but a thousand folke praied her to say some Ave Maria for women with child, sicke and other afflicted persons, having all of them great faith in her prayers. But as there are traitors enough to condemne a just man, and in this age innocency serveth to no purpose, if it be not favoured, for so much as [Page] the Lawes goe as it pleaseth Kings, it came to passe that notwithstanding the reproaches which they gave in against the witnesses, more than sufficient to refute the malice of the accusers, and to manifest the innocencie of the accused, they condemned them to die, and together with them a brother of mine, and my mothers Nephew. Verily the case was strange and scandalous, though false, and their death unjust: but whatsoever the cause I doe not envie them the profit, which let them eate with their bread, they shall not goe to Rome for penance, for there is a God in the world that seeth all things, and seeing he punisheth that [Page] he will not suffer one haire of the just to perish, it belongs to him to avenge the wrong done to his servants, for so I may call them, yea even Martyrs, sith they constantly, suffered death for the love of God, they being accused of faults which they had not committed. A tricke, finally that they being poore, they were constrained to pay with their life, that which they were not able with their goods. I only may praise my selfe that I found some mercie with the Iudges, in consideration of my young yeares, and of the small experience that I had; yet the favour they shewed me, was a grace with sinne: because Iustice left me my life, with condition [Page] that I shuld be the executioner of these Martyres. I was very unwilling and did all I could, not to commit so execrable a crime as that is, to take away their lives that had given me mine: but it was impossible to excuse me, but by losing my life with them. Wherefore I considering that another would doe that, which I refused, and of the other side the perswasion of my friends who with a great charge upon my conscience, counselled me to doe it, that so the whole kindred of my parents should not be lost, and that there should remaine some one in the world who might pray for them; I put on a resolution to doe that which for any other respect I [Page] would never have done. But this is my comfort, which is not a little one to me, that my father gave me his blessing at the houre of his death forgiving me all that I could have committed in this world, against the respect and reverence, which I owed him, giving me also some wholesome counsels, and recommending to me vertue and the feare of God, above all that I should ever strive to be like my parents and that I should shew my selfe such a one as those of whom I was descended. With these reasons and some others I remained greatly comforted, and resolved to end my prison with their life. I was left an Orphan, young, alone, or ill accompanied, [Page] and without counsell, without knowing what side to turne me to, for to maintaine that life which these gentlemen had left me, because that the cockering and good cheere in which my mother had bred me, had beene the especiall cause of my undoing, shee suffering me to live idlely and lazily.

Neverthelesse I seeing that the memorie of the good past brought me no profit, and that if I should live and eate bread it ought to be with the sweate of my browes, I determined to looke out for a master whom I might serve, or some handie-crafts-man with whom I might learne some trade, which was all in vaine, because [Page] that the accident of my parents being in fresh memorie, and their infamie yet late, I found not one that would receive me into his house, nay not so much as to be a groome of his stable: wherefore I was forced to leave the countrey, and to goe try my fortunes in a strange countrey. What countrey is that (I asked him then) in which your parents dwelt, because if I be not deceived in the discourse of your relation, you have changed its right name as also its surname, and your owne? Command me not, I beseech you, answered he, to breake a solemne oath which we of our profession have made amongst our selves, which is never to reveale [Page] to any man our own [...] countrey, nor our parent [...] name, this being supposed that it availeth little to the truth of my history to know it, and though it seemeth to you that it is no my [...] to conceale it, beleeve me you are deceived for so much that there is nothing more dangerous in our Art, than to tell a mans true name, as well as of his countrey, as of his baptisme, seeing that as you know, albeit we be fallen a thousand times into the hands of Iustice, and that we be as many times convicted of some crime, w [...]e onely changing our name, we ever make it appeare that this is the first time that we have beene taken, and the first crime whereof we have [Page] ever bin accused, and no man knowing the name of our parents, nor of our countrey they cannot be informed of our lives & manners, nor our parents receive any shame from our disgrace seeing that as you may oftentimes haue seene, when they cōdemne a man the first words of his sentence say; such a one, of such a place, the son of such a man & such a woman is condemned to be whipt or hanged such a day, moneth and yeare, from which proceedeth nothing else, but sorrow to him that dyeth, and dishonour to his parents. If this be so (said I to him) you have reason to hid it, & this being supposed that is not for your availe to tel it, & it availeth not me to know it, let us leave it, [Page] and follow your Historie. It fell out then (said hee) that about foure leagues from the place of my birth, I put my selfe apprentice to a Shooemaker, it seeming to mee to be the most gainfull of all trades, especially in France, where all those that walke goe at it were post, even as if Iustice were running after them, and where all Shooe themselves against nature, that which is contained being greater than that which containeth that is to say, the foot greater than the shooe, whence it falleth out that the shooes last a very short while. I opened then mine eyes thither and bend my minde to this trade for that beside the gaine it was [Page] the most easie. But as from my infancie my parents had taught me to rip, it was not possible for me so suddenly to change the habite which I had already, turned into nature, and so sixe weeks past ere I could learne to set one right stitch. From this ignorance my Master tooke occasion to disdaine me, breaking some lasts on my head, to see if they could leave some impression beside the continuall abstinence with which hee punisht me, some of his friends having said to him that it was a singular remedie—and quicken my wit. This life seemed not good to me nor to bee desired, wherefore I resolved to forsake it, and lay out for [Page] another more peaceable, knowing particularly in my selfe some motions of Noblenesse, which inclined me to things higher and greater than to make shooes, wherefore I conclude with my selfe to search all meanes possible to bring me into the house of some man of qualitie and rich, being assured that with the faire conditions and readinesse that I had, my service should be well-pleasing to my Master. Verily the resolution was good, and the thoughts honourable and noble; but so lame, maime and without force for want of meanes, and apparell to set them forward seeing that it is most certaine, that if with my hands waxed, my apron and other markes [Page] of a Shoomaker I should have presented my selfe at the gate of some Knight, they would not have suffered me to enter

This difficultie held mee some few dayes in perplexitie without knowing how to enter upon my enterprises, notwithstanding making a vertue of necessitie, being vexed at the miserable life which I led, I determined to draw Physicke out of the disease, and honie from the Bees stings, and endeavouring to revenge my selfe on the Spanish lether and all shooe-makers. To this effect there came a notable boldnesse in my mind, yea and profitable enough and sure, if fortune who then was my enemie had not over-thrown [Page] my designes and my inventions, I considered that if I stole any thing out of the house, my shift should have beene discovered in an instant, and I as a stranger and friendlesse, beene ill dealt withall, particularly, with the hatred which my Master bare towards me, & the harshnesse with which they are wont to punish houshold thefts in France. So rising on Fryday morning earely than I had been accustomed, rubbing my hands with waxe and also my face, I went with my apron girt to mee, and my hands all bedawbed, to runne through all the shops of the towne, especially those that were best acquainted with my Master, and telling to every [Page] one that were in the shops, that the Gentleman staid at my Masters for a paire of bootes of the eights, to put them on incontinent, I asked for one boote to trie if it would fit him that desired them. None made any difficultie to give me it, thinking that a man could not be served with one boote alone, otherwise the most part of the shooe-makers knew me, and these who had never seene me were in a minute so well satisfied with my presence, that if the first finder out of the trade had come, they could not have given him more credite. With this invention I went almost through all the shops of the towne, ever heeding to aske for a [Page] boote of the same size, and last that the first was of: And the invention fell out so to the purpose, and with so great ease that in halfe an houres space, I gathered me then two hundred bootes all of one size, and of one fashion, which having tied up in a sacke, I laid them on my shoulders and betooke me to the way. The fact lay dead without suspition almost two houres, but seeing that I came not backe againe, nor returned the boots which I had carried away, nor tooke that which I had left, all of them suspected that which truely fell out. And so this time being past, moe than a hundred apprentices were at the doore where I dwelt, every one asking for [Page] his boote, which my Master and some few of his neighbours, who loved mee not very well, seeing they told the Iustice, who dividing themselves through the three gates of the Citie, met mee not very farre from one of them, because the weight of my burthen suffered me not to get out of sight as I could have wisht. They brought me backe to the towne, and proceeding against mee for the fact yet hot and fresh in minde, they condemned me to walke foure houres through the accustomed streets (that is to be scourged) with three yeares banishment.

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CHAP. V.
Of the first Theefe that was in the world and whence theft had its beginning.

ALthough this noble Art had no other excellency but the antiquitie of its beginning and the Noblenesse of the first finder out thereof, it might suffice to the end that every good wit should approve it for to be the most Noble of all those which are practized at this day in the world, the first inventour thereof was one of the fairest Angells that [Page] was, whose beautie, dignitie and greatnesse was so extolled and high, that the most curious of his perfection found no other title more proper to exalt him than that of the Morning Starre, Governour of the dawning of the day, the Sun's Ambassadour. This then was the first Thiefe that was in the world, or before the world, if it be true that the Angells were created before time, who overcome by an ambitio [...]s desire, adventured rashly to robbe God of his glorie. But hee was degraded because Iustice tooke him in the fact, and seazing upon all the goods that hee had, condemned him to perpetuall prison, and together with him all his associats.

[Page] The second Thiefe that ever was in the world was our first father Adam, as bold as the Angell, yet not so blame-worthie for being not so malicious in his sin, and of lesse knowledge, albeit I cannot be perswaded that hee was ignorant of the obediēce, which he owed to his Creator, having knowledge infused in him. Neverthelesse overcome by the importunate reasons of his wife, and tormented with an ambitious curiositie hee was desirous to steale the knowledge and wisedome of God. But it fell out as badly to him as to the Angell, so that his fleeing and hiding himselfe served him to no purpose, for the Iudge having asked him, and he not being [Page] able to deny the fact, for that he was taken in the fault, his state of innocencie and originall justice was taken away, he and all his race remaining condemned to spend their life with sweate, travell and mishaps, and his wife to bring forth her children with sorrow. And if you aske mee why God did not equally punish these two theeves, being guiltie of treason, and having attempted one and the same kinde of theft which is the divine perfection. It was to this purpose that I have heard spoken by a great doctour and Preacher of the Church; because if God had punisht man with the same rigour that hee punisht the Angell withall, he had destroied [Page] an intire nature, seing that all men sinned in Adam & so the world had remained imperfect. But in punishing the Angell, this incōvenience followed not, because many other Angels remained in heaven, and all the nature of Angels sinned not, and this is the cause why God was not so severe to man as to the Angels: but you shal better learn this curiositie from some other, who knoweth it better than I do. It is sufficient that those aforesaid Theeves were the first that brought theft into credit in the world. And wee cannot say, that povertie and necessitie stirred them vp to steale, because the first was the noblest and mightiest of all the Angells, and the second was the first of all [Page] men, King of the living creatures, and absolute Lord of the earth. From thence is brought in the deceite which to the day, this world seeth, beleeving that poverty was the finder out of theft, seeing it is riches and prosperitie, because the love & desire of honour and riches groweth so much the more as it is increased, as a Poet saith very well. Ambition being an unsatiable fire, in which how much more wood is laid, so much the more it is inflamed, and a Dropsie, in which the more one drinketh, the more hee thirsteth. Even so in those great theeves, the great riches and prosperitie which they had, was the cause of their unruly appetite, and unsatiable [Page] ambition, for that they desiring that which they had not, they could not attempt any other theft▪ but the glorie and wisedome of God, seeing they possessed all the rest. Whence you shall understand, that to steale and robbe is in a sort naturall to man, and that it goeth by inheritance, and propagation in all the linage of men, and not by cunning. For if it be true that we all are partakers of Adams sinne, his sin being nothing else but to robbe God of his knowledge, it is evident, that there is in vs an inclination, disposition and naturall desire to robbe and steale. From Adam this profession was extended to all his posteritie, being alwayes kept on [Page] foote amongst the most noble and best qualified of all his children. So Cain, as jealous of this originall vertue, would needs steale from his brother Abel the grace and particular favour with which God received his oblations and sacrifices. Iacob cunningly rob'd the blessing from his brother Esau, and it went well with him. David the wife of Vriah. Achab though himselfe a rich King stole Naboths Vineyard. And finally Nimrod by theft subdued all the Inhabitants of Assyria. And if leaving these and other Theeves almost innumerable, which holy writing relate unto us, wee take the examples that humane histories rehearse unto us, we shall see that this [Page] singular Art hath beene alwayes preserved among the Nobilitie, sith Paris stole Helen, ravisht before that by Theseus; The same Theseus stole Ariadne, and Iason Medea. The Lacedemonians, of whose policie and good government Plutarch maketh honorable mention had this laudable and vertuous custome of stealing, and hee that was most cunning and subtile in that Art, was in greatest account and estimation amongst them. The very mothers taught their children, while they were but little ones, to steale, holding it for an infallible point of policie, that they could never be good and brave souldiers, if they had not beene cunning and well experienced [Page] theeves. I will not tarrie now to tell the name and reputation which Vircat got himselfe by his thefts, nor the renowne which Crocota deserved by them in the time of Augustus Caesar, for I should never have done.

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CHAP. VI.
The theefe followeth his historie proving that all men of what qualitie so ever are Theeves.

THis Noble profession of stealing hath evermore (as I have said) beene held in high esteeme amongst the greatest and best qualified men of the world: but as there is no kinde of vertue nor noblenesse, which is not envied by the vulgar, it became in time so ordinarie & common that there was not so very a Butcher or Porter [Page] who would not imitate the Nobilitie in their thefts. Whence and from the little discretion and exceeding great boldnesse that then was amongst people, it was one time so disdained and disliked that those who did openly follow it, were punished with shamefull paines and accounted infamous. But as all things of the world have their contrary weights; time would needs finde a remedie for this abuse, seeking meanes to steale without punishment, and so disguised, that not only theft seemed not vice, but was esteemed a rare and singular vertue. To this end many brave spirits invented the diversitie of Offices and charges which to this day are [Page] exercised in the world, ev [...] ry one of which serveth [...] a maske or cloake to mak [...] his harvest and inrich himselfe with another ma [...] goods. And to the end tha [...] you may not judge my word rash, nor my proposition to [...] bold, runne, I pray you, ove [...] all states that are in the Common-wealth, and you shall finde that wee all are the children of Adam. For I thus argue. That man that hath an Office of a thousand Crownes of rent, without any other living, pension or patrimonie, & holds a house for which hee payes eight hundreth Crownes a yeare, keepes a horse & two Pages and a footeman, his wife and two waiting Gentlewomen, his children and a Master to [Page] [...]ach them, who to keepe [...]ll this traine hath neede [...]f more then a thousand crownes every yeare, yet notwithstanding with all this charge he is found at the yeares end with two suites of apparell, free from debts & with five hundreth crownes of gaine, and yet it rained no more on his field than on other mens, nor hath he inherited any thing of any of his parents or friends. Ergo a Theefe. A Tailer that eats more than it cost him, and at sixe yeares end gives ten thousand crownes portion in marriage with his daughter, never medling with other trade save his needle and his sheeres. Ergo a Theefe. A Shooe-maker that keepes six prentices in his shop, and [Page] workes but foure daies [...] weeke; and those not wholl [...] at three yeares end that tw [...] tenements builded in th [...] fairest streets of the towne every one of which [...] worth two him three hundreth pounds of yearely rent, without any other stocke, but that of his leather Ergo a Theefe. The Cler [...]e who for every sheete of paper that he writes hath but a shilling, and who writes scarcely, sixe moneths of the whole yeare, which are hardly ended but hee is seene to have his Velvet stooles, damaske courtains, silke-hangings, and other rich ornaments, which never came to him by heritage. Ergo a Theefe. Of the same kinde you shal find in all Offices giving [Page] you to understand, that [...] doe not speake here of the good and honest, but of the [...]ewd and baser sort, who [...]linded with profit and gain [...]reade under their feete the [...]eare of God, the love of their neighbour, and the truth of their own cōscience (who force the poore and [...]eedy to take sixe pence for that, which they sell in their shops for twelue pence) & it is, I say, of those by whom the evills, that I have mentioned ought to be understood. And by reason that the great attention with which you doe harken to my reasons, discovereth the desire that you have to know all that can be said upon this subject, I will shew briefly the invention and deceits which the [Page] naughtie Tradesmen use for to robbe and steale.

The Tailer stealeth asking a third part more of cloth, then there needeth to make a sute of: and when he that putteth it out to making, presuming to be wise enough for the Tailer, would be by to see it cut, he vexeth him, and casts a mist over his eyes marking foure houres along the peece and overthwart, and when hee hath at last dazeld him with a great many strokes and lines with his chalke, hee throweth a false ply under the sheeres with which at the cutting of a paire of breeches one breech abideth with him for his gain, besides buttons, silke, lace, and lynings.

The linnen Weaver stealeth [Page] in asking more yarne than the web hath neede of, laying fiftie ells instead of five and fortie and with the remainder of many broken threeds he pincheth out the length, which makes worth to him the eight part, all which he stealeth.

The Cordwainer restoreth with his teeth that which hee stealeth with his—biting and drawing thinne the leather, so that of one paire of shooes which one giveth him to make, there resteth to him at least an upper lether or a heele for a third. And if the lether be his owne, he sets on a rotten soale with rotten threed, to the end it may be the sooner spoil'd and fall off, which I thinke but stealing.

[Page] The Physitian and the Chirurgion both steale, the one appointing and th'other applying plasters, which feed the disease and make it worse to the end that the time of the cure continning long, the fees may be the greater and the more.

The Apothecarie stealeth with a quid pro quo—putting in one drugge for another, and taking that which is cheapest, not considering what humour should be purged, and what vertue the drugge hath which he applyeth, in which hee stealeth the honour and reputation of the Physitian, and the sick persons life. And if haply any call for an oile which he hath not, he wil not faile to give of that which hee hath for oile [Page] of—or other costly oyle which any shall have asked them, that they may not lose the credit of their shop.

The Marchant stealeth in putting out his money upon use, taking more than the statute alloweth, and writing downe in his booke such a debt, which, it may be, shall be thrice paid,

The Notary stealeth with an (&c. Et coetera) a whole Lordship, and if there be a question of any criminall processe, the Scrivener for money that he shall take of a forfeit, will sell the soule of the poore innocent.

The Counsellour & the Atturney steale selling a thousand lies to the poore client, making him to understand, that he shall win his cause, albeit [Page] they see cleerely that he hath no right at all; and many times it falleth out that the Lawyer agreeth with another to sell the parties right and part the gaine betweene them.

The Iudge stealeth Iustice from this man, having pitie on him, who by some bribe shall have already corrupted him, wresting violently the texts of Bartole and Baldus for his own profit.

The Drugster and other Marchants, that sell by weight steale, putting under the scale a very thinne plate of leade, where they put that which they would weigh, with which they shew that there is more then weight, albeit there be many ounces, and when they doe not that, [Page] with their little finger they touch the tongue of the ballance with which they make the scale sway to what side they will.

The Vintner stealeth a hundreth thousand wayes, mixing and blending one wine with another, beside the water that hee putteth amongst it, and when his wine by the force of so much mingling and watering hath his strength, hee hangeth amongst the lees a little bagge full of Cloves, Pepper, Ginger and other spices, with which he makes it still seeme to be good.

The Butcher also stealeth blowing up his meate with a Cane, that so they may seeme the bigger, and that he may sell them at a deerer [Page] rate than they are worth.

The Treasurer stealeth the third part, yea the halfe of a pension, when a poore needie man asketh him, because that hee, who should receive it, being drown'd in debt or charged with some vrgent necessitie, denieth not to give the halfe, nor makes he any conscience to demand it.

The Marshall stealeth taking a poore harmelesse man, and laying him in hold never telling him for what, and at the end of three or foure dayes that hee keepeth him in a chaine, sends a Divell of those that belong to the prison, to tell him that hee is accused for making of false coine, and that there are ten witnesses who have given evidence [Page] against him: but that for the respect of some of his friends, hee will set him at libertie some evening, if he will give him a hundreth Crownes to give content to the witnesses, and to make them in some sort to hold their tongues, whereby the poore wretch being sore affrighted, selleth all to the shirt on his backe to be rid of so great affliction.

The Courtier stealeth the report of a favorite, ascribing to himselfe that which another receiveth: because being loaded with feathers, brussing up himselfe, poised and straighter than a spindle he goeth to the Court, and hearing, at the gate, or in the Court-yarde where the Pages waite, some [Page] newes, hee returneth to see his friends, and gives them to understand, that the King drew him aside, speaking secretly to him two houres, and amongst other things hee told the newes that hee brings.

The Perfumer stealeth mingling the perfumes and multiplying the Muske with a Cowes liver r [...]sted, the Amber-grees with sope and sand, and the Sivet with some Butter.

The Priest stealeth, saying foure Masses instead of forty for which hee hath bin paid beside the monie that he receives for yearely Masses for the dead, Answers and other duties which he never remembers.

The Religious (Monkes [Page] and Friers) steale whole patrimonies, assaulting with a grave countenance and a wry necke a poore sicke man at the point of death, and laying before him a mountaine of doubts and burthens of conscience, turning and stirring them up to pious deeds, applying to their own Monasterie all that which he was bound to restore, without ever making any scruple of conscience to leave halfe a dozen of Orphans defeated of their inheritance, and the sicke mans wife to live upon almes.

The Preacher stealeth, picking from S. Thomas and S. Austin the best of their workes, and having robbed them to their very thoughts, selleth in the Pulpit their [Page] doctrine as though it were his owne making himselfe the inventor and author of that which belongeth not unto him.

The Blind man stealeth the halfe of every song that he singeth, because that having received money from him that biddeth him sing, and it seeming to him that he is gone from him three or foure paces, he beginneth againe his first tune, and asketh a new that some body would make him sing another.

The Begger stealeth telling a thousand lyes to him that giveth the almes, saying that he hath bin robbed, that he hath beene sicke, that his father is in prison, and coun [...]erfeiting himself lame, with [Page] which hee pulleth from men their almes.

Finally, all doe steale, and every handy-crafts man hath his own invention and particular subtiltie to this effect: but seeing there is no rule so generall, that hath not its exception, wee may exclude from the number of Theeves all those that have a good conscience, as foote-men, Hostlers, Cookes, Sergeants, Iailers, Under-jaillers, Panders, Bawdes, Ruffians and Whores.

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CHAP. VII.
Of the difference and variety of Theeves.

ALl the Theeves aforesaid are called discreete, because that every one in his place striveth to cover theft the best hee can, transforming it into Nobilitie and vertue, and this manner of stealing is the safest and most secret. Of these there is as great varietie and difference, as there are severall Offices in the Common-weale, yea there are other Theeves who [Page] steale openly and without maske: who, although they are not so many in number as the former, are notwithstanding moe, and their differences are as many as there are inventions to steale, which being redacted into a shorter number, are divided into Robbers, Staffadours, drawers of Wooll, Grunets, Apostles Cigarets, Dacians, Mallets Cut-purses, Satyrs, Devont, and Governours of the House.

The Robbers steale upon the high wayes and solitarie places with great cruelty and tyrannie, because that seldome doe they robbe without killing, fearing to be discovered and followed by justice. The meanes & slights that they have to coine to [Page] their purposes are diverse for sometimes they will follow a man fifteene dayes never losing the sight of him, waiting while hee goe out of the towne. And the better to over-reach him one of the companie goeth disguised in a Marchants-habit, a guest of the same Inne, with a certaine packe of old cloth, or some other invention, giving to understand that he is a strange country Marchant, and feareth to travell alone. With this lye he falleth into discourse with the poore Marchant or passenger craftily getting out of him, that which hee desireth to know, & learning whence he is, whether he goeth, what Marchandise he carrieth, or what businesse he goeth, about, [Page] and when he is to be gone, whereof giving notice to his companions, they lye in waite for him at some place most convenient for their purpose. O [...]hers make themselues lurking holes behinde some bushes, growne up to the thicknesse of a wood, and when they perceive a far off, or by some spie, a passenger, they lay in the middle of the way a purse made fast, some shew of money, or a little budget, that in the meane time while he alighteth and staieth to take it up, they may come timely enough to take from him that he carrieth. Others being hid in the most secret places of the high way, send one of their companie in Carriers clothes, who seeing [Page] the Passenger approach stayes to looke on him, and making shew to know him and to have some letters for him, & holding him in talke, bufieth him in such fashion, that the others have the time and meanes to surround him. Others lying somewhat out of the way, faigne a lamentable and pitifull voyce, with which they tye the passenger to stay, and to goe see what it is, and while he that makes this moane deceitfully declareth his griefe, the ambush leapeth out that strippeth him to his shirt.

Your Staffadours are a second sort of robbers, little differing from the former, though more courteous, and not so bloudy; those goe calmely into the house of [Page] some Marchant, and not finding him there, seeke for him at great leasure, at the Exchange, in the fields, at Church, and in the middle of a thousand people, drawes neere to him softly talking in his eare, making as though hee would communicate to him some-busines of great importance, and shewing him a Dagger, saith, this Dagger demandeth a hundreth crownes, brought to such a place, such a day, and if you doe it not, you shall die for it. The poore Marchant sore affrighted by such words dareth not to misse, for feare to be killed.

The Wooll-drawers take their name from the theft they practise, which is to snatch cloakes in the night, [Page] and these have no other cu [...] ning save the occasion: they goe ever by threes or foure [...] betweene nine or ten a cloc [...] at night, and if they do finde a fit opportunitie they let [...] not slip. Most commonly they come forth to snatch cloakes in the darkest and rainest nights, and to them places which they see is most quiet and most out of the way, at least upon the one side, to the end that the neighbours may not come forth (at the outcryes and noise which the robbed are commonly wont to make) and take them. These same are accustomed sometimes to go in Lackeyes clothes to come in to some Maske or feast, making shew to looke for their Masters, and with [Page] this liberty, they meete with [...] heape of cloakes, that the Gentlemen use to leave in the Hall, being sure that nobody will meddle with them they in the view of all in the place, nimbly take up two or three on their shoulders, and get them gone with them, saluting all those whom they meete, with Cap in hand.

The Grumets take their name from the likenesse that they have to those young boyes in ships, who clime up with great nimblenesse, by the tacklings to the top of the Mast; and the sailers call them Cats or Grumets. Those that beare this name steale by night, climing up lightly, by a ladder of ropes, at the end of which they [Page] have two little hookes o [...] iron, to the end that throwing them up to the window; it may catch hold there and they easily get up and empty the house. These runne about the City and the Cou [...] try, stealing not onely gold and silver, but also Wheate, Rye, Barley, Oates, and finally all that ever they doe finde, and when they have plaid their prize, they cunningly tye a line made fast to the point of the little hookes, which, after they are come downe, they drawing, the two hookes are raised and the ladder falleth, without ever leaving any print or marke of the theft.

The Apostles take their name from S. Peter, because that even as hee beares the [Page] keyes of Heaven, so also they ordinarily carry a picklocke or vniversall key with which they open all manner of doores, and because of too much noise, that the locke may not rattle, and awaken the people a sleep, they put in a plate of leade with which they breake it in peeces, so that they who lie neerest can perceive nothing.

Those whom they call Cigarets, have for their particular office to haunt Churches feasts and publique assemblies, at which they cut off the halfe of a cloake, cassock sleeves, halfe a gowne, the quarter of a jumpe and finally whatsoever they finde, for of all these they make money.

The Devout are Church-theeves, [Page] because there are no Easters, Pardons, nor Iubilie which they visite not: they are continually on their knees in the Monasteries, having their beades in their hands, to cloake their knavery, waiting their time, either under some Altar, or behinde some table, on the eeve of some solemne feast, to the end that they may get out by night.—and to spoile the image of all the ornaments about them. In this sort of theft they do moreover adventure into the Monasteries of the Religious as well as into other Churches, because that as they charitable, and feare to be accounted disorderly, they seldome put a theefe into the hands of justice, and for all [Page] the mischiefe that hee commits a man getteth out of their hands, chastised with one onely discipline all about the Cloisters by a procession of Monks who charge him, after his amendment, to feare God.

The Satyrs are men living wilde in the fields, that keepe their holds and dwelling in the Countrey and forsaken places, stealing horses, kine, sheepe and all kinde of cattle which by occasion come in their walke.

The Dacians are cruell, mercilesse people, held in our common-weales in lesse account than th'other theeves: these steale children of three or foure yeares old, and breaking their armes and legges lame and disfigure [Page] them, that they may afterwards sell them to Beggers, Blinde folkes and other vagabonds.

The Overseers of the house have this name frō the particular care that they have to looke out for provision of bread, meate, and other vi [...]tualls to feede their companions, and as there is not any thing in the world that a man loveth better than to eate and drinke, the inventions and meanes that theeves have, are so severall and so exquisite that it is impossible to [...]ell them all. Some are accustomed three or foure to meete in the twilight at night and taking a bottle of five or sixe pottles with a fourth part of water in it, they goe to a Taverne bidding [Page] them fill the bottle with the wine in the house, and having agreed for the price, the poore Vintner beginneth to measure while it be almost full, then they make shew of a desire to taste it, if it be the wine that they bought at the beginning, and scarcely have they tasted it when bending their browes, casting up their eyes and wrying their nose they cry out at the wretched Vintner, saying that he is a theefe and a deceiver, who hath changed them their wine. The poore fellow seeing that his oathes and curses availe nothing, is content to take his wine again and to take out the bottle the measures that hee had put in, by which meanes they have a fourth part left so well seasoned [Page] that it may passe for wine of sixe pence a quart. Other whiles they goe five or sixe in companie to the Taverne with two great pots so like th'one to the other, that very hardly can there any difference be perceived betweene them; they carry th'one emptie and the other full of water under his cloak, and biddes them fill the emptie one with the best wine that they have, never taking care for the price, and it being full, the one of them takes it under his cloake, and the other staies reckoning with the Vintner, holding his purse in his hand and making shew to pay him: being upon these termes, the others come in, and aske alowd whether or no they shall suppe there, [Page] which the Vintner seeing, allured presently by the gaine that hee shall make if they suppe at his house, perswades them to stay, and they take his counsell determining to goe to the Cookes to buy some joynt for supper, and to call backe the rest of their comerads, leaving the pot full of water to the Vintner, that he may keepe it in the meane while till they come backe, with which he remaineth contented and well assured, thinking hith himselfe, that though they never returne, the pot notwithstanding shall remaine with him for his gaines.

As for the provision of flesh, poulterie and other things they have a thousand inventions, whereof I will [Page] tell you one only which hapned long agoe to one of my copsemates. It was, if I rightly remember, on a holy Saturdayes market, in which they sold great store of Hennes, Partridges, Rabbets, Pullets and other things against the feastivall day. Three of the company went out to seeke for provision, dividing themselves every one to his owne walke, the two met with a Countrey-Clown loaded with Capons and Partridges, which were in the market; one of them drew neare to buy up all that he had, & cheapning a quarter of an houre with the Clowne, agreed to give him ten Nobles for all his ware, giving it to his fellow to carry it home, and he stayed behinde [Page] with his hand in his pocket, making as if he would pay him. He searcheth both the sides, of his hose, drawing out first a great purse, next a little one, afterwards a hand-kercher tyed in knots with some papers folded up, with which he inchanted the Clown, and gave his companion time and leasure enough to get him out of sight, and at last not finding in all his budgets the whole summe, he bids the Clowne follow him and he should pay him. The Clown was content, and beginneth to follow him with diligence, and almost on the trot, because that as my Companion had an intention, to get out of sight crossing the streets and lanes he walk't [Page] a-pace with posting speede. But seeing himselfe so closely followed by the Clown he went into the Cloister of the Austin Friers, where there were some Friers confessing folkes, and having made a devout prayer, hee turned himselfe towards the Clown, saying to him, My friend, the provision that you have sold me is for this House, and that Father, who is there a confessing is the Proctour, I will goe tell him that he must pay you; and speaking thus, he comes to one of the Confessors with the Clown after him, and turning a little aside hee put sixe pence into his hand, and whispers him in the eare saying, Father, this country man is one of my acquaintance, [Page] and commeth hither to be confest, he lives sixe miles hence, and he must of necessitie goe backe to his house this evening, I beseech you to do me the favour to confesse him out of hand and let him goe. The good Father obliged by the almes given aforehand, promist him, that when hee had ended the penitents confession whom he had at his feete, hee should dispatch him presently. With this answer, he called to the Clown, and said to him, friend, the Father will dispatch you by and by, when he hath made an end of confessing this man, to which the Father added goe, not hence, I will give you content presently. With these words my companion par [...]ed [Page] from them, and the Countryman staid, reckoning on his singers the money that hee should lay out on shooes, hat and other trifles which hee minded to buy as well for himselfe, as for his familie out of his Poultry money. The penitent makes an end of his confession, and the father makes a signe to the Clown to draw neere; the Clown was not in so trembling a perplexitie, with so great hast as those who come to confession, which the good father was much offended at, it seeming to him that he had little devotion and lesse humility to be confest. The Clown stood bolt upright, looking heedfully upon the Confessor, to see if he should put his hand in his [Page] pocket, and the Confessor look't upon the Clown in like manner, astonisht to see him stand with so little devotion. Notwithstanding excusing him because of simplicitie which is ordinarie to these Country people, hee biddes him, kneele. The Clowne at the beginning made some resistance, thinking it to be an extraordinarie ceremonie for one to kneele to receive money, neverthelesse at last he did it though grumbling. The father bids him make the signe of the Crosse, and say his confession, whereat the Clown lost all patience, beleeving the Confessor to be out of his wits, and standing up beginneth to mumble within his teeth and to sweare with [Page] great obstinacie. This assured the Confessor that the Clown was possest with a Devill, and having made the signe of the Crosse beginneth to conjure him, putting S. Austins girdle about his head, and saying some devout prayers, with which the Clowne went out of his wits, taking the good Father by the surplis and casting him down upon the ground, demanding aloud mony for his poultry. The father supposing that hee had all the fiends of Hell together upon him, beginneth to say, the Letanie with a weake and affrighted voyce, and to commend himselfe to all the Saints in the Almanacke, praying them to aid him. At the clamour and noise, the [Page] whole Convent began to be troubled, all the Monkes comming out in procession with the Crosse and the Candlestickes, casting holy water on every side, and beleeving that there was a Legion of Devils in the Church. They came thither where the Confessour was at debate with the Clown, who still was asking money, for his Poultry, & the Prior having asked the Cōfessour concerning this accident & having also heard the Clownes reason, the justice of them both was discover'd with my Cō panions wicked deede. In the endsome devout persons who were in the Church, paid the Clown his monies who went backe contented unto his house.

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CHAP. VIII.
The Theefe continueth the differences among Theeves with three disgraces that befell him.

THe Cut-purses are the commonest Theeves of our Common-weale, who have an endlesse deale of meanes and wayes to steale. All their studie consisteth in thrusting their hand in the pocket of whom they approach, and cunningly to draw his Purse from him (he not perceiving it) with all [Page] that hee hath in it. These haunt the Churches, Sermons, Faires, Assemblies & publicke meetings, that they may worke their feate in the throng, he that takes the purse gives it presently to another that is by him, that if he should be taken with his hand in his pocket, he might prove them lyars and cleare himselfe before all the world.

I will tell you a wittie tricke which I once plotted, though it fell out but badly by me, seeing that the heedfulnesse, with which you hearken to me, makes me know that you are not wearie to heare me. The last yeere there came to London a Marchant of Italie, rich, courteous and of good carriage, [Page] who being in rouled by our spies I tooke the charge upon me to deale with him. I rose that day betimes in the morning, lest I should lose the occasion, and after I had dog'd him through many streets, Lanes and Churches (for he was verily a good Christian) wee came to a crowd of Marchants wont to be kept in the Exchange about eleven a clock, seeing him alone, I came to him, talking to him of a bargaine very profitable & certaine, which made him open his eyes, and listen heedfully to my reasons. Then seeing him thus fitted to my inventions, I winded him gently into a Maze of difficulties, in such sort, that I never ceast to declare to [Page] him the businesse, nor he to learne the circumstances. My Camerade then drew neare making shew as if he knew me not; and to be desirous to interpret the traffick for him which I had propounded, whereupon the Marchant began to take no more heede to me, and I to thinke evermore of him. I put secretly my fingers in his pocket to try the depth and breadth thereof, & perceived that it and its Masters little care gave me free liberty to put in all my hand. I did so and at the first essay, I drew his purse, at the second a silver Watch, which he carried tied to a small gold-chaine, with which I might have bin content if stealing could be limited. I was resolved [Page] to try the third time, to see if I could draw thence a Holland hankercher, which before he had shewed edged with curious bonelace, but I could not be so nimble to draw it, nor my Companion to hold him in talke, but he felt me, and running to save his pocket with his hand he could not misse but meete with mine, wherewith being vext and suspitious, he presently knew that he had lost his purse and his Watch, and not finding them he tooke me by the necke, crying A theefe A theefe. I foreseeing the evill that might befall mee (for Astrologie is very necessary for a Theefe) had given the purse and Watch from underneath my cloake to my companion, as soone as ever [Page] I had drawne it, who was but only two steps from me: Wherefore with the assurance that I had, that he would finde about me that which he sought, I scorned all he said, giving him the lie a thousand times. The Marchant holding me fast by the coller, with a loude voyce calling for his purse, in such sort that he made all upon the place to gather together. But my Camerade seeing that my honor runne a great hazard, if the businesse should be proved amongst so many people, secretly calls a crier who was at a corner of the place, whom he made cry, If any one had lost a purse and a silver Watch, that he should come to him, & give true tokens therof, he would [Page] restore them, and withall departed the place. Hardly was the sound of the first cry heard but my good Italian let me goe, intreating me with great humilitie to forgive him the rash judgement conceived of me, which I did at the request of the companie, and presently got me out of sight. He went as nimble as a Roe to seeke for the cryer, and having found him he gave the true tokens of his losse, but he that had bid him doe it could not be found any more; and so I escaped this dangerous accident.

The Duendes a Larins so called for the likenesse that they have with the spirits of this name, begin to walke through the towne in the [Page] evening, and finding some doore open, they enter softly, hiding themselves in the Cellar, in the stable, or in some other dark secret place, to the end they may throw out at windowes all that is in the house, when those within are fast a-sleepe. I adventured once to play such a pranke, and turne my selfe in an Angell of darkenesse, but I was deceived. It fell out then, that one night on the Eeve of a high holy-day I went to seeke my fortune, my mishap made me meete with a doore halfe open, into which thrusting my head I saw that all my body might enter, I went up a paire of staires to a great Chamber well furnisht and fitted, and thinking that it was a safe [Page] course for me to hide my selfe under a bed, while these of the house were gone to rest, I did so. After foure houres that I had laien all along on the flower, I heard a noyse of folks, comming up suddenly into the Chamber, you neede not aske if I was heedfull to see who they were, and by and by with the light of a Candle I saw the feete of two footmen and one maide laying the cloth with great diligence, and were making of a fire, because the Master of the house was to suppe there. The table furnish't with sundry dishes of meate, foure or five sate downe, besides the children that were in the house. I was then so affrighted and confounded, that I [Page] thinke verily if the noise of their voyces and the great number of children had not hindred them, they might have heard plainely the beating of my joynts, because my buttockes beate so hard one against the other, that I thinke the noise might have bin heard halfe a mile off. By mischance there was a little dogge, that runne about gnawing the bones that fell from the table, and one of the children having thrown him a bone, a Cat that watch't under the table was more nimble to catch it with which she run away to hide her under the bed, the dog grinning and pressing to take the bone from her, but the Cat could so well use her clawes and defend her prize, [Page] that having given the Dog on the nose two or three blowes with her paw, there began so great a skirmish, and there was such a hurly burly between them, that one of the waiters tooke a great fireshouell that was in the [...] him. ney and cast it so furiously under the bed, that if, as it gave me over the nose with the broad side, it had lighted on me with the end, it had kill'd me out-right. The blow was so great, that I was above halfe an houre ere I could come to my selfe, but it made the Cat come out like a thunder from under the bed, and the Dog staied grinning and barking with such a fury that neither fawning nor threatning of mine could quiet him, wherat [Page] the waiters at table were so vext that they began to chase him out, throwing fire-brands at him, which made him come out from under the bed, and leave me there in the pangs of death. The Dogges noise was done, and there began another in my guts, so violent, that to stay the sudden rumbling of a flux in my belly, which the apprehension and feare had moved I was constrained to sneeze thrice, & with the force of my sneezing to wrong my breeches by the liberty of that unjust violence. These two noises met together, and making one of two, increast so much the force, that it made all at table rise, and take off the Candles, to see what was this [Page] novelty. They pulled me out, but I could give no reason that could be heard, nor humble suing that could be admitted, so I remained subject to the rigour of their vengeance, they stript me starke naked and binding me hand and foote, they began to scorch me with a lighted Torch not without loud laughing, and after they had satisfied their furious passion, they put me in the hands of Iustice, out of whose power I escaped signed and sealed.

The Mallettes are a sort of theeves who hazard themselves upon great perills and inconveniences, for they are made up in a bale, basket or dry fat, faining that it is certaine Marchandise sent over, which they make some [Page] one or other of their friends in Marchants apparell carrie from one house to another, that when night commeth and every one being fast a sleepe, he cutteth the cloth with a knife, hee breaketh forth to empty the house. I was one of those when the fourth disgrace befell me, because a friend of mine having counterfeited to have foure bales to be laid by night in a rich goldsmithes house, counsel'd me to be pack't up in one of them, covering the sides thereof with cloth and webs of fustian. The goldsmith made no difficultie to receive them, forsomuch as he had not them i [...] keeping but a little while, and that he thought, if the owner in the meane time [Page] should happen to die, some one of them might fall to his share, so he made them to be laid in his backe-shop, whereby I was well assured to worke my feate. I waited while night with such desires as that plot deserved, which notwithstanding fell out to my disgrace; for three or foure prentises meeting that night in the house, of intention to tarrie there upon occasion of the bales, resolving to lay them together, and lye upon them. After supper, every one withdrew himselfe. The prentises fitting the unhappy bed, or to say rather, the bale, in which I was in the middle of the others, on which they began to sleepe so soundly, that one might have drawne them a [Page] mile and never awakened them. I being impatient of the exceeding great weight that I felt, not daring to stirre my selfe more then I had bin dead; and on the other part the little breath that I had, being choaked, I began to stirre my selfe a little, and seeing the unmoveable weight of that which was on me; I certainly beleeved that they had layd a bale upon me; with which imagination, and the extreme anguish that I suffred, I drew a sharpe knife, and thrusting it up, I made a great hole in the tillet of the bale, and a huge deepe wound in the buttocks of him that lay upon me. Hee rose like a thunder raising his voyce to the heavens, calling for [Page] neighbours helpe and the Iustices aide, thinking that some one of his companions would have kill'd him. The confused noise of all the neighbours, and the alarum was so great, that ere the Master of the house had lighted a candle, the Iustice beating open the doore came in, and finde the poore wounded fellow in his shirt bleed and faint, and the other vexed and confounded, takes the deposition of him that was wounded never taking notice of the bale, nor comming neere it, thinking that it was not needful to know the place where hee was hurt. But the goldsmith, who attentively hearkened to the Iustice, and beheld the circumstances of the fact, seeing [Page] the poore-hurt fellow all bloudie, supposed that the bales and the cloth in them might be bloudy and spoil'd and he bound to pay them, and with this unquietnesse he came neere to looke on the bale, and seeing it cut thrust in his fingers to trie if nothing was spoil'd, and he mist not to finde my bearde. I could very well have bitten him if I had thought it had bin the best of my play, but I lay quiet, thinking that he would never guesse what it was. He held the torch nigher to the hole, and stooping to see that he had touch't, the waxe began to melt and drop upon my face, which forced me to remove a little, and him to marre all, crying aloud. [Page] Theeves, Theeves. The Iudge came neere, who was yet making one write the deposition of the hurt man, and opening the bale, they found one within it. They carried me to prison, whence I came out at the seventh day after at a cartes taile well accompanied, beside other favours that they did me, whereof the greatest was to condemne me to the gallies.

All the aforesaid Theeves have ordinarily their spies at Exchanges, Faires and common Markets, viewing all that goe and come, and learning what money they carrie, how much, and in what sort, where they leave it, and in what hands, to give notice thereof to the companie. And herein there [Page] is such diligence, and so great care, that there commeth not any stranger to the towne, but in a quarter of an houre after he is registred in our booke with all his qualities: to wit, whence becommeth whither hee goeth, and what is his trafficke: and if there be any negligence herein, the spies that have these places of the Citie in their charge, lose the profit and gaine that should come to them that day, out of the common purse, beside a shamefull reproofe which our Captaine giveth them in presence of all the other Theeves.

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CHAP. IX.
Wherein the Theefe relateth his wittie diligence to free himselfe out of the Gallies of Marseiles.

YOu may thinke, I had no great maw to that journey▪ which these Gentlemen commanded me towards Marseils, sith there could be no pleasure in that which is done upon constraint. Neverthelesse I obeyed with great resolution, hoping that fortune would offer some good occasion to set me at libertie: so all my [Page] studie and care was onely to finde out the means to attaine to this end. And having tried many which came to no effect, he practized one which might have hapned well, if fortune had bin content with my past troubles, and had not made mee fall any more in the try all thereof. The invention then was on this wise. The Captaine of the Gallie, where I was slave, being exceedingly in love with a Lady of good ranke, and she in no wise loving him, hee tried all meanes (though impossible) to bring her to his bow, and as is usuall with Lovers to be the more inflamed when they finde their beloved hard to be won, the Ladies extreme coldnesse was burning [Page] coales to the Captaine, in such sort that he never enjoyed rest but when he was talking of his love. I having got knowledge by the report of a slave that went daily to my Masters house, there to carrie water, wood, and other necessaries, determined to try my fortune, and not lose the occasion. So I spake him kindly, promising him that if he would faithfully ayde me, that he might hope assuredly for his liberty, whereof I would as well make him certaine as of mine own. The good Antony, (for so the slave was called,) put so much trust in my words, hearing me speake of libertie which I had promist him, that waited but for the houre to be employed in that [Page] which I did intreate him, and he thought there was not time enough; hoping with great impatiēce, that I should declare to him that which he was to doe for me: who seeing him so well minded on my behalfe, and otherwise sillie, faithfull and true, I shewed him my resolution, recommending to him secrecie, and wisedome above all things. I said thus unto him, My friend Antony, know that it is long since I have desired to impart a secret to thee, which I will tell thee of: but as all things require wisedome, patience, and the occasion, I have not done till now; because I thought it not fitting till now to do it: as also, because not being so satisfied (as I am this present) [Page] of thy goodnesse, seeing, as the Proverb saith, one should eate a bushell of salt with his friend ere he trust him. Thou knowest well our Masters love with this Lady that dwelleth by the great Church, and how much he is out of kelter for her, yet never having received one favour of her, after so long time spent in her service, and so many Duckets spent in vaine for love of her. Now if I should finde a meane and assured invention, to make him without the spending of one shilling, or troubling her doores enjoy his pleasure, what reckoning would the Captain make of this service, and what reward would he give him who should bestow on him that which he so earnestly [Page] desireth? Verily (answered Antonie) I hold for certaine that he would turne foole at his contentment, and not only would he give thee thy libertie, but also to all those for whom thou shalt aske. Go to friend, said I, if thou hast any particular acquaintance with some one of them who are most familiar and best liked in the Captaines house, thou must acquaint him with this businesse, that he may tell him, and assure him that I will doubtlesse doe that I promise, and I counsell thee that it be not delayed. The content which Antony received was so great, that without bidding me farewell, nor answering me one word, he went from me like a lightning, [Page] intreating a souldier o [...] the Gallie, that he would bring him into the Captaines house, to talke with him of a matter of great importance. He was there, and could give order for my businesse, that halfe an houre after, the Governour of the house came to the Master of the Gallie, charging him to send me with a souldier to the Captaine, because he would see me. The quicke effect which Antonies diligence wrought, gave me extreme great contentment, and made me hope that so good a beginning would bring my designes to a happie end. Finally, I was at my Captaines house, tattard, torne, and naked, and with a great chaine tyed to my foote. He comming to [Page] meete me, as if I had bin a man of great ranke, and lay [...]ng his hand upon my shaven head, began to talke kindly to me, asking me what country-man I was, what was my name, and why I was condemned to the Gallies. And I having answered him in a dissembling manner, and lying the best I could, he drew me aside, to a corner of the Chamber, asking if that which Antony had promist him, was certaine, Sir, answered I him, I know not what he hath said, nor what promise he hath made, yet I will tell you, that if he hath spoken according to that which I told him, all is true, without failing one tittle. Sir, I told him, that if you would promise to release [Page] me out of this distresse which I indure, and to give me my libertie freely and wholly, I should make you injoy the love which you desire with so great passion and which so torments you, I promise you moreover and assure you, that making this condition with you, if I performe not my promise you shall my head cut off, or throw me into the sea. Thou bindest thy selfe greatly (said he with a smiling countenance, alreadie desirous to see the effect of my promise) but if thou art a man of so great knowledge and skill, that thou canst doe this for me, this Gallie wherin thou art shall be thy fortune, for I shall not onely be content to give thee thy libertie but [Page] I will make thee one of my houshold servants, and the best respected of them all. But tell me, after what manner canst thou doe it? Sir, you shall know (said I) that I was bred with a great Astrologer, who under pretence to cast Horoscops and Nativities dissembled his Magicke with so great craft, that there was not any one in the world that suspected him. He made use of me in some of magicall experiences, supposing because I was young and of a dull wit I would understand nothing of the secrets of his Art. But he was deceived there, because though I seemed foolish and ignorant, yet I had an eye on all his tryalls, and I studied them so well, that many love secrets [Page] stucke in my memorie, [...] mongst which I have one most certaine and approved, with which if a woman were harder then the Adamant, I will make her softer then the waxe. In such sort that the secret which I propound to you is Magicall, not naturall, and it is requisite to have some haires of the party beloved, to put it in execution; with which, and with some Ceremonies that must be performed, the Gentlewomans heart will be so set on fire, that she shall take no rest, but when she is with or thinketh of her beloved. Notwithstanding this must be done in the night, at the waxing of the Moone, and in the fields, there being but only three in the companie, [Page] and these stout and resolute, that cannot be dismaied nor frighted, fall out what may, or whatsoever they see. If, saith the Captaine, that to further the businesse there needeth no other thing but a good heart, we shall easily have our desire, for though all Hell should stand before me, it were notable to make me give backe so much as one step, nor once to change my colour, or countenance: and for the haires that thou hast mentioned, I will give thee as much as thou shalt desire. I know Sir, (answered I) by your face that your naturall inclination is very fit for Magicke, and if you had studied it, you would worke wonders by it. So now seeing the time favoureth [Page] us, and that you have the Ladies haire, let us not suffer this waxing of the Moone to passe with bringing our businesse to passe. You may goe out on horsebacke, and he also that shall accompanie you, as for me, though ill bestead with the weight of this chaine, I will not forbeare to goe a foote. All shall be in readinesse (saith the Captaine) against thursday night, & sith experience hath made thee Master in this Art, prepare thee well and studie that which thou oughtest to doe, to the end that our designe may not be lost by negligence or little care; and for the present get thee backe to the Gallie; for I will send to thee by the governour of [Page] my house who shall be the [...]hird of our companie, a faithfull man, couragious & valiant, and if there neede any thing to this purpose, thou maist in the meane time provide thee, for I will take order that all be paid that thou shalt buy. With this good answer I parted from my Master more joyfull and merrie then the flourishing Spring seeing my businesse thrive so well at so good a passe, and being returned to the Gallie I found my good Antony, who waited for me with great impatience to know what I had bargain'd with the Captaine, and upon what termes my affaires stood, to whom I related all that we had agreed upon, and the kindnesse that he received [Page] me withall in accepting my promise, assuring him that when I was in favour, the next thing I asked should be his libertie. Hardly had I begun my discourse, but I perceiued the Governour of the Captaines house entring the Gallie, his visage inflamed, his eyes staring and dansing, and he running, as he had quickesilver in his heeles, asked where I was, and having perceived me, and drawne me aside, he said to me, I am Governour of the house to the Captaine of this Gallie, who hath commanded me to come hither, and to know of thee all that shall be necessarie for the businesse that you talked of, dispose and appoint at thy pleasure, for I have money [Page] for all, and because that I may offer thee something in my own behalfe, take this crown of gold which I give thee as a token of that friendship which shall be between us, and I assure thee that thou shalt have a good friend of me at the Captains hands. But as reason would thou must answer me with mutuall acknowledgment, in doing some thing for me. You shall binde me much Sir, (I answered him then very humbly,) having disparaged your selfe so much in regard of him, who is so farre unequall: consider in what my weakenesse and my povertie can serve you; for I will performe it with all my soule. I will not, saith the Governor, that thou hazard thy soule, [Page] because it is Gods, but I would faine intreat thee, that with thy fecrets and thy skill thou wouldst helpe me to purchase the favour of a Gentlewoman of good ranke whom I have loved now these five yeares, and because I am of somewhat a meaner condition then she there is no meane to make her heare me, and if it were possible to give two blowes with one stone it would be be an extreme great contentment to me, & thou shouldst binde me to thee, not only as a friend, but as a slave. Now the Moone is waxing, and the time very fit, so that I thinke there is no neede to make any more ceremonies for my mistresse than for the Captaines, and if you must [Page] have of her haire, see here are some, for it is above a yeare that I carried them about me, keeping them as reliques. And drawing a paper out of his pocket put one of her locks into my hand. I who desired no other thing but that the third of our companie should be also so besotted, that the businesse might fall out well, I was in a manner beside my selfe with contentment, which I could not hide nor dissemble without shewing some signes in my countenance of being troubled, by which he tooke occasion to aske me what it was that troubled me. To whom I answer'd, Sir, I feare that if the Captaine should know that I doe any thing for you [Page] he would be vexed with me, and I should lose this good opportunitie in which lyeth no lesse then my libertie; this consideration is that which troubleth me, not want of desire to serve you. And who will tell it him, saith he then? The Divell, answered I, that never sleepes, but happen what may, I am resolved to serve you, though I should lose the Captaines goodwill, seeing it is the first thing that you have commanded me. As for that which concernes the Captains busines & yours, you must buy a new sacke, a small corde, and another bigge one of Hempe, foure ells long, a new knife, a chaine and a brush, and these you shall buy without making any price, that is to [Page] say, that you shall give for them whatsoever the Marchant shall aske without beating of the price: and assure your selfe, that within a seven-night, you shall enjoy your love with great liberty. Thou givest me greater content with this answer, saith the Governour of the house, than if the King had given me a pension of a thousand crownes a yeare, doe that which thou promisest, & thou shall see what I will doe for thee. And embracing me kindly he went away full of hope and joy, leaving me the most contented man of the world, seeing that if in this prison I had sought an occason which might have fallen out better for my ease, it had bin impossible for me [Page] to finde it, for as well my Captaine as the Governour of the house were so blinded besotted and fool'd, that if I should have call'd the day night they would have beleeved it. On the contrarie my heart throb'd a thousand waies, considering into what a maze I should thrust my selfe, if the businesse succeeded not, neverthelesse I made a vertue of necessitie, using that remedie which is ordinarie with these that are in any extremity, which is boldnesse and resolution. With this good courage I waited for the Thursday, which came more joyfull and fairer then the Spring, though it was slow, because of the desire they had to injoy their Mistresses, and mine to get [Page] out of the harbour by the cheating trickes that I put upon them, it seem'd to us the longest day of all the yeare. Every time the clocke struck, they despaired, fearing to misse the telling of the houres, as these do who hope for a thing that they earnestly desire; and after this care they were in anextacie considering what they would do in the possession of their loves, as if they had alreadie verily past the night and overcome the difficulty. This doubting and hammering of theirs served me well to my purpose, that they might not perceive the gulleries that I put upon them, and the smoake that I sold them. Whereby I finde that those who paint Love blinde, have [Page] great good reason for them, because that, if they not bin so, they would have perceived all my promises to be nothing but winde, and that the meanes which I propounded to them were for no other end but to gull. them.

[Page]

CHAP. X.
In which he proceedeth to relate his invention, begun with some discourses of Love, between the Governour of the house and this Gallieslave.

THe night being come which be a day for me, inlightning the heaven with infinite numbers of starres so bright and resplendent, that they dazeled the light of the day, and filled my soule with joy: when my honest Governour [Page] enters the Gallie, brave, Gallant and clothed with the best apparell that he had, because that amongst other directions that I had given as well to him as to his Master, the chiefe was that they should be fine & brave, as being a thing most requisite and necessarie for Magick skill; and having saluted me with close embracements he said to me, friend, that thou maist know that I can doe what I will at the Captaines hands, and that I want not goodwill to help thee, thou shalt know that through my intreatie he gives thee leave to leave off thy chaine for this night, and it may be, for ever, that thou maist walke with greater libertie, and performe thy businesse and [Page] what is [...] though the Captaine [...] [...]ome difficultie, I dea [...]t so earnestly that I obtained this favour in earnest of that which I desire to do [...]. I who then was more knavish and more dissembled then foolish, fell into some suspition imagining that this liberalitie offered ere it was desired, was fained, and but only to try me, wherfore I answered him, Sir I thanke you for the care you have had of me obtaining of my Master that he will take off my chaine, a favour which I would kindly accept, if it were possible, but it is not, because I must not change the estate that I [...] in, nor one point of that which is of my estate; it being necessarie that he, who [Page] shall make this tryall, must make in the same estate & apparell that he is accustomed to weare: and so I may not goe but in mine owne clothes [...] with the chaine because otherwise we shall do nothing. The Governour was not a little contented with my answer, being assured that there was in me no kinde of deceite nor malice, but the pure and simple truth, & pittying me beleeved assuredly, that there was more passion in my words then Iustice, he embraced me the second time saying, friend, God who is wont to give the salve according to the wound, hath brought thee to this Gallie, that by it thou mightst come to the knowledge of my Master, and enjoy the speciall [Page] favours which thou shouldst promise to thy selfe from his liberalitie, if the businesse fall out well. How well? answered I him, hath the Captaine any suspition that I would deceive him? No by the world answer'd the Governour, seeing that though thou wouldst doe it, thou couldst not: but it is the great desire that we both have to soften the hardnesse of these she-Tygers, and to turne them to our love, that makes us thinke that impossible which is easie for thee to doe, and this is usuall amongst Lovers. I never was one, (answer'd I, and though I should be more in love then was [...]arcissus, I should never purswade my selfe that day were night, that [...], [Page] and other fantasticall imaginations, that haunt Lovers, which rather may be called follies and idle thoughts then love passions. It well appeareth that his darts have not strucke thee, saith the Governour, for if thou hadst tried them, thou wouldst not have spoken with so great freedome and so little trouble. Know friend, that Physitians ranke this disease amongst Melancholi [...]e passions, into which the diseased falleth, beleeving that which is not, and framing a thousand phantasies and visions which have no other ground but their perverse and corrupt imagination, which workes the same effect in Lovers, giving them an impression of jealouse, to an other [Page] of disdaine, to an other of favour, making a mountaine of nothing, all which is bred of a burning desire which they have to possesse that which they love. But to be willing to perswade this unto him who hath not tried it, is to desire to draw water with a sive, and to weight the earth, I am no Doctor, Master Governour, I answer'd him, nor yet Batcehler, because being left yong, friendlesse and poore, I lived also without knowledge, having only foure words of Latin. Neverthelesse by the use of reason well knowen of all sciences, I understood the smal reason that Lovers have to be so oft troubled upon so small occasion as they are troubled, because of necessitie [Page] their affections tend to two points, to wit, that the woman must be good or evil faithfull or disloyall. If she be good, faithfull & answerable to your affection in mutuall love, it is a great follie to be jealous over her: if she be unfaithfull and known for such a one, there needs no other counsel, but not to trust her nor love her. Whence may be cōcluded that all the accidents to which you say lovers are subject, are the overflowings of follie, and wants of wit, it being a notable extravagancie to love one that hateth, this being supposed that hatred cannot be the subject of love, nor love of hatred, seeing we ordinarily love them that bind us thereto by their love. If it [Page] went by experience, saith the Governor thou wilt lose thy cause, because usually they [...]ate these that love them best, taking the fight of a dying man for the occasion of their hate, and it is a voice in them now a dayes turned in [...]o a nature, to shun those that follow them, and to abhorre those who adore them, as the Captaine and I have hitherto made a long and unhappy tryall. Thinke not so Master Governour, I answer'd, that you have made a good conclusion; for if you will have the patience to [...]eare me, I will make you see clearely in what your arguments faile, and know that love ceaseth not to love nor hatred to hate, there being no [...] of nature, and he that [Page] foster'd you in this philosophy, hath fed you with [...] milke, because that Lo [...] alone not being accompanie [...] with other circumstances, which are to be proportio [...] nable and reasonable is no [...] all the motive of an other love. That Princesse of noble bloud should be tyed to love a Porter, that dieth for her, onely because he adoreth her. I deny your proposition, she is no wise bound to doe it, nor her well to affect him, the object that might move her not being in him. As a Prince hateth to the death a poore damsell, because she depiseth him, being unwilling to give consent to his wanton love, whence it may be gathered that neither the Porters love [Page] [...] in any case tye the Prin [...]sse wil, nor Damsels scorne [...]all breed hatred in the [...]rinces minde. Seeing that [...] love is found the good, [...] profit and pleasure which [...] the hookes with which [...] will is taken, then it is [...] motive of love, and the [...]ady shal not be able to hate [...]im, who loveth her upon [...]hese conditions, but therein [...]eing unequalitie and disho [...]our, she may do it. You shall more clearely perceive this [...] hatred, because when a man dieth for a Gentle-woman, & she hates him exceedingly, this hate is not that which inflames his love, but the account she makes of her honour & the feare of shame if she should consent to the pleasure of him that loveth [Page] her, which consideration makes her coole and backward and him extreamely passionate. Whence it is concluded, that the woman offendeth not in hating him that worships her, nor any man ought to hate such a woman that disdaineth him. This thy Philosophie, my friend, answered the Governour, is framed of moe words than learning, and I could refute it by plaine reasons, if time did afford 'tis leasure, but the houre is already come, & the Captaine will looke for us, only I would intreate thee to be mindfull of me as a friend, making thy inchantment of equall power with the crueltie of the Gentlewoman of whom I have spoken to thee. Away with this care, Sir, answerd [Page] I, for I will doe it in such sort, that though your Mistresse were harder-hear [...]ed & more frozen then the Alpes, she should be turned into a Mountaine of fire, hotter then Mount Aetna of Sicile. I beleeve so, said the Governour, but I cannot chuse but wonder why thou being so cunning a fellow didst not enchant the Iudge to be in love with thee and not have condemned thee to the Gallies. If this secret were good for a man, said I, a hundred yeares a goe I had bin a Duke or a Governour of some Province, if I had not bin a Monarch. It is not good but for women, because he that first found it out, gave it this vertue only. That alone sufficeth me, saith the Governour, if [Page] with it I can soften that ad [...] mant, but with the hope that thou hast given me, I hold the victorie as certaine, and I hinder my selfe that I doe not see to morrow already. With these words we came to the other side of the harbour where my kinde Captain waited for us with great impatience and unquietnesse, by whom I was very well received, & he asking me why the Governour had not taken off my chaine, as he had charged him, I answered him the same things, which I had before answered the Governour, wherewith he was exceeding wel contented. They leapt both on horse backe, & I followed them at leasure, because of the waight of my chaine, and being about a [Page] [...]ague from Marselles we [...]rived at the place appointed. They lighted down, and [...]ying their horses at a tree, we with drew our selves to [...]ther to the place where our [...]yall was to be made, & taking them with some necessary ceremonies, and telling them what they should say, I [...]ade a Circle on the ground whispering I cannot tell what strange and uncouth words, and turning my selfe often, sometimes towards the East, sometimes to the West, with some ceremonies so unusuall, that they made the Captaine and his Governor of the house both of them [...] and fearefull. At haffe an houres end after that I had gone turning about like a foole, I made the Captaine [Page] goe within it, charging him to say after me, who was so obedient and so forward to all that I would have him, that if I had then cut off his mustaches, he would have beleeved that it was needfull for the inchantment. I made him strip himselfe, teaching him to say certaine words to every parcell of his clothes which he put off, which he pronounced so exactly that he lost not one syllable, beleeving that if he had missed in one jote he should have marred all this businesse, With this ceremonie I stript him to his shirt, he never making any shew of feare no [...] suspition, being assured that he was safe enough by the presence of the Governour, who was much astonisht to [Page] [...] them finish'd, it seeming to him that there should neither b [...] time enough nor inchant [...]ent sufficient for himselfe. Pitty so moved my heart that I could not take off his shirt, [...]aving compassion of his in [...]cencie, because it was then the coldest time of all the winter, and either through [...]eare or cold, such a vehe [...] quivering and shaking [...]f all his joynts tooke him, [...]ith such a chattering of his [...], that the noise thereof [...] Have bin heard halfe a [...] from the place. I [...] and encouraged him, with the shortnesse and quick [...] of the inchantment, [...] assured possession of [...] love, injoyning him in [...] meane time to be silent, [...] telling him that if he [Page] spake but one word, we should be presently in lesse then the twinkling of an eye all of us in Barbary. He then being in this plight, that is to to say, naked in his shirt, I gave him a knife in his hand, commanding him to make some stabs towards the foure quarters of the world, at every one uttering some words, & [...] the conclusion I made him goe into the sacke. That which I then saw with mine eyes was a wonder & a miracle of God, because I alwai [...] imagined, that as he was going into the sacke he should suspect something, & that [...] mine invention should [...] nothing: but a little [...] not more obedient [...] [...]ilde than he was, [...] that without any resistan [...] [Page] or shew of mistrust, he went in, being still assured by the presence of his Governour, and the ignorance he had of his loves; Which was good for me; for if he had known that the Governour was to be inchāted also, he had never gone into the sacke. Finally having packed up the poore Captain, I laid him along upon the ground with his belly upwards, tying the sacks mouth with a cord that was by me, & speaking sti [...] to the Governor to encourage him, and wishing him to have patience a quarter of an houre the enchantment was to last. So having left him in this ta [...]ing, the Governour and I went aside about a stones cas [...] who said to me in an exceeding great pelting chafe, I wil [Page] lay a wager that thou hast forgotten something of my businesse, for here I see neither sacke nor knife for me, as for the Captaine. Here is no need of a sacke, said I, because your Magicall experiences are made stronger or weaker, according to the greater or lesser cruelty that Gentle women have: and the Captaines being exceeding disdainfull, I have made the enchantment of a sacke for her which is the strongest of all. Oh! brother, saith the Governor, what is this that thou hast done? mine is hard-hearted, disdainfull a Tyger and a Lyonesse: for the Captaines, though she loves him not, notwithstanding shewes him some favour, and if it goes by disdaine, we neede a [Page] hundred sackes, not one only what shall we doe? Be quiet Master Governor, said I then seeing him afflicted, for there is a remedy for all but deaths for that which is not in one threed shall be in a hundred. I will make with the haires and the cords a hanke which shall have no lesse force then the Captaines sacke, and for as much as your Mistresse is so cruel as you say, I wil adde thereto a small matter which shall make her, that she shall never be able to take rest while she see you. It is that which I looke for, myfriend, answerd hee, let us martyr her in such sort, that my love may torment her thoughts & her memory, & performe my businesse quickly, before my Masters be ended. Speaking [Page] thus we came to the roo [...]e of a tree, the place at which I had told him that his inchātment should be made, and in an instant making a circle, & [...]eaching him what he should doe, I made him goe into it starke naked to the skin, because I had neede of a shirt. Having him there in this fashion, I tooke his Mistresse haires, & twisting them with a cord I made a big roule, with which I tyed his hands to the stumpe of a tree, shewing him the mysterie that was hid in every ceremonie, & I would faine also have tied his feete, if I had not feared that hee should have suspected this to be rather the fact of a Robber then of a Magitian, but as his hands were enough for my purpose I would do no [Page] more. Finally having made thē [...] boūd, defended frō the sharpnes of the cold aire with the onely fire of Love, that burned in their heart, there was no body that could hinder me to give two or three knocks at the lock of my chaine with a hammer that I carried in my pocket and taking their horses and clothes I got me out of sight &, being armed like [...] S. George I tooke [...] high way to Lions.

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CHAP. XI.
In which the Theefe [...] the disgrace that happen [...]d to him, about a [...] of Pearle.

WIth the victorie of this dāgerous journey, I tooke the high way towards the town of Lyons, joyfull to see my self free, & the owner of foure and twentie double pistolls, which I found by the hazard in my Masters pockets with which and with their clothes being brave & gallant I went into the towne, & falling in love with as many [Page] brave Dames as were there: I talked of love to all that I met with, and receiving particular favours of some, because my presence and my clothes assured them that I was a man of some great house and of good ranke. True it is that to keep them in this errour, and to hold my selfe in the good account with which I had be gun, I oftentimes visited the Merchants of greatest credit, telling them, that I lookt for some Merchandise from Venice, and promising to deale with, I made them in love with me, and they trusted my words as much as my outside and my honest looks did deserue. By which & by counterfeit noblenesse, some Gentle women tooke occasiō to be as far in love with me, [Page] as Thysbe was with Piramus, to whom I gave correspondence in the best manner, [...]hough I understood that I was not so blinded with love but this colour'd goodwil, & these fained sighs tended rather for my monies then for any good quality or beauty, of mine. But as there is nothing that can resist the kinde alluremēts by which a woman maketh warre against him, whom she minded to deceive I suffered my selfe a little to [...]e carried away by amorous shewes of a Gentle woman of the towne, merry, pleasant &c who entertained me best though she was none of the fairest: who making shew that she was taken with my love, in a short time emptied my poore purse, leaving me [Page] like an Image wrapt up in velvet. I pressed also to binde her by allmeanes possible answerable to her fained affection, not so much for my contentment, as for that she was provided with fine knackes, which she had bin accustomed to aske of any new lover such as are chaines, rings bracelets, & above all a chain of Pearle, so bigge, round & bright, that at the very sight of them any man of courage would desire them: This friendship at first was very hot, & had a prosperous gale of winde, but as soone as she perceived the weakenesse of my purse, she struck the sailes of her good-will, & began to looke upon me with a crosse & sowre countenance, an accident which in some sort put [Page] me in doubt, & made me distrust that I should never work my seate, which I had projected at the beginning of her loves. So before that any falling out or vexing should rise between us, relying upon the kinde offers which a little before she had made me, making me understand, that not only her goods, but also her very life shuld be sacrificed to my friendship; I requested her to [...]awn her chain or her Pearls for to contribute with her for the expences of the kitchin, assuring her that I looked for two thousand Ducats from a living which I had in my country. But as they are old and subtle in their trade so they are also in their distrust, and so she excused her selfe, saying that the Pearles [Page] and the chain were pawns of a friend of hers who was to [...]ome and redeeme them the [...] day, and that her honor should be greatly endangered if she had them not in readinesse. There needed no small [...] to cover the annoy which that crafty answere bred me, [...]or little wit to turne into jest such a plaine denyall. So without making any shew, or answering one word to that purpose, I fell a laughing most heartily over her shoulders, saying to her, that it was a device that I had framed to try her good will and to see if she would indeede confirme that which she had promist by her words, and drawing out of my pocket a counterfeit letter of Exchange, I made [Page] her reade it that she migh [...] see the power that was given me to take up eight hundred Ducats from a rich Marchant of Lyons, who [...] she knew well, where with comming to her selfe from her rugged coynesse, shee fell againe into her smiling humour, giving me a few light blowes on my cheeke, calling me distrustfull and mocker. I went away from her with a thousand embracings, making her beleeve, that I was going to receive a part of that sum, and God knowes what my heart was. But as povertie hath ever bin the mother of inventions, amongst many others which my imaginatiō afforded me, I choosed out one which was to sell my [Page] [...] at any rate whatsoe [...]er, being content only to [...]ve monie to live upon [...]ut three dayes, at the end [...]f which I minded to have [...] fling at her Pearles, and so to get mee out of the way▪ But it happened quite contrarie to me; I went to catch the wooll but I came backe fleec't which was the just judgement of God, and a righteous punishment of my fault. For though the Proverbe saith, He that steales from a Theefe winneth a hundred yeares of pardon: yet the theft that is done to women of this kinde, is not put upon this account. But it should be rather held for a great offence, because that for the monies they receive they sell their honor [Page] and reputation which ca [...] not be redeem'd withall th [...] treasures of the world. [...] came to passe then, that [...] returning in the evenin [...] to her house, and makin [...] my pockets jingle with th [...] money that I had receive [...] for my horse, she met m [...] with embracings, so smiling and kinde, that with her fauning and flatteries, shee made me almost beleeve, that th [...] refusall she had made me of her Pearles, had beene but a tryall and proofe, which she would make of my affection. Finally order was given for making supper ready, with which and the tricks that I minded to put upon her, at the comming of my money, I resolved to change her in such sort, that [Page] her first sleepe▪ I should [...]e the commoditie to as [...]lt her, and shee never to [...]rceive it. But my desires [...] not so good successe as [...]hought, because that such [...]omen know more then [...] Devill, particularly she, [...]ho as an old beaten bel [...]me in her trade, there [...]as no ambush nor deceit, which shee had not pried [...]nto. So the more I urged [...]er to drinke, so much the more shee proved coy and backeward. Supper ended with all the joy that I could faine, and the hope which that good occasion promist [...], we withdrawing our selves into her chamber, she began to untire her selfe with as much slownesse as it had beene her wedding night. [Page] But I desirous to arrive [...] the haven of my intent [...]on, to make her more car [...] lesse and lesse suspitious [...] went to bed first, fain [...] my selfe unable any mo [...] to withstand sleepe tha [...] urged me so eagerly. My disgrace was such, that shee distrusting the summe, that I had bragged to have received, and taking occasion by my dogges sleepe shee would search my pockets to trie if all was gold that glister'd, and if the nuts were answerable to the noise. But finding there was so little monie that it would scarcely furnish out the next dayes expence, she began to be vexed and to have an ill opinion of me. At all this (though snorting) I was [Page] [...]ore watchfull and more a [...]nting then a Cat when [...] watches a Mouse, spying [...] what place she laid her [...]earles, that I might fish [...]em incontinent when [...]ee was fallen asleepe. She [...]ay downe sad and con [...]ounded, thinking on the small summe of mony, that [...]hee had found, and ofttimes sighing. Whereof I would in no wise aske the cause, as knowing it well enough, and not desirous to let her from sleeping which I so much desired and long'd for. So a quarter of an houre after, which was the time that in my conceit, shee was past all thinking of it any further, I thought of mine owne designes, weighing well all [Page] the inconveniencies whic [...] might fall out, among [...] which I considered the suspition, conceived by her to be most difficult, it seeming to me that she would not sleepe but by halfes, and that seeing the least appearance of that shee imagined, shee would raise the house with her cryes, and put all the neighbours in armes. But amongst many inventions, there came a subtle one in my minde, and most fit for the purpose to this fact, which was, not to hide the Pearles in any part of my clothes, but to swallow them one and one, being assured that having past them through my body they would come forth more cleere and bright then [Page] [...] before, and that in this [...]anner though all came to [...] worst, the Iustice would [...] mee free not finding [...] Pearles about mee. This thought, in my opi [...]ion seemed admirable good, and thinking that she was asleepe, seeing shee [...]ghed no more, nor shewed [...]ny more her unquietnesse. I rose as softly, as was possible, going barefooted and at leasure to the place, where she had left her Pearles, and having found them, I began to swallow them one after another, though with some difficultie, I being narrow throated, and they very big. My ill lucke was that while I was, about to swallow the last, it stucke in my weazand so unhappily, that it [Page] could neither goe forewar [...] nor backeward, I was forced to cough with som [...] violence, and to awake h [...] with my coughing, shee cal [...] upon me with teares and [...]stonisht, and I dissemblin [...] the best I could the hinderance of my weazand, answered her that I was seeking for the Chamber-pot wit [...] which shee was well apai [...] for a while, though not satisfied with my answer, it seeming a thing unlikely to looke on the cupboord for the Chamber-pot, which was usually set under the bed, wherefore casting with her selfe the meanes to satisfie her suspition, without making any shew of distrust, shee counterfeited an exceeding fore paine in her bellie [Page] [...]ring great cries, and cal [...]g to her two maides that [...]re in the house for light, [...]d some warme clothes: [...]ee held in her dissembled [...]ine for the space of halfe [...] houre, supposing that [...]ould be enough to take [...]om me the suspition of her [...]unning slights. About the [...]d of which, shee riseth [...] bed like lightning, and looking round about the [...]me with a lighted candle and where shee had left her Pearles, and no finding them, without speaking ever a word, or asking any other [...]eason then what her imagination perswaded her, she begunne to beate her face with her fists, that incontinent shee fill'd her mouth with bloud, uttering after [Page] that loud and shrill cry [...] that in lesse then a quarter of an houre, above two hundred people were assembled, and amongst them the Iustice, who breaking open the doores of the house, came up furiously, finding me in my shirt, and her in her night attyre, with her haire about her eares and her face scratcht, calling to me for her Pearles most furiously. The Iudge commands that every one should hold their peace, that hee might be inform'd of the fact, and take the deposition of us both, and hee having begunne with me, I gave him content with very humble words, so that neither his threatnings nor intreaties could draw any other answere [Page] from me. Neverthelesse the Iudge seeing the womans vehement complaints and bitter teares charged that my clothes should be search't which was executed with such care and diligence, that hardly a moate of the Sunne could have beene hid in them, and they not finding there the Pearles all of them with one accord judged mee to be innocent, and condemned her as subtle, shamelesse, and dissembled. She seeing then that they all spake against her, and misregarded her complaints, cast her selfe downe at the Iudges feete, tearing her haire, and rending her clothes, and uttering such strong cryes, that the Iudge knew not what [Page] to thinke, nor what resolution to take, and consulting of the matter with those he brought with him, he resolved, that it having beene verified that she had the Pearles when she went to bed, they should be searched for, in all the most secret corners of the Chamber, they not being found, they should send for an Apothecary, that should give me a potion mingled strongly with Scammonie, to the end that if I had swallowed them, I might cast cast them up againe. The Iudges sentence was put in execution, and having done their diligence proposed about the Chamber, and not finding the Pearls, they were forced to come to the last remedy, which was the Physicke, [Page] they which forced me to take in full health without the Physitians appointment, and against my wil, & though I did all that was possible for me to vomite them, there was no meane to make me doe it, so a vehement strife being awakened in my guts I was compelled to give way to the Pearles, and to tarry my selfe in prison, enjoying the favours which these Gentlemen Iustices are wont to bestow upon those that fall into their hands.

[Page]

CHAP. XII.
In which the Thiefe relateth the last disgrace that befell him.

IT was about sixe a clocke at night, when my Andrew made an end of telling me his disaster about the Pearles, and I desiring to know the last that kept him then in prison, I intreated him to tell mee it from point to point, without missing any thing remarkeable: wherein hee being willing to give me content [Page] hee answered joyfully in this manner. If God would have pleased that this should be my last disgrace, and if it had beene as soone ended as I shall end the discourse thereof I should have thought my selfe happie; but I dare not trust to my hard lucke, because that it being accustomed to persecute me, I do not beleeve that it will ever cease to use mee unkindly with new torments. Know then that the Iustice of Lyons having condemned me in two hundred lashes of the whip, through the streets accustomed, for such malefactours, and marking me with the towne marke, they banisht me the towne with shame enough, allowing me but three daies [Page] only to dispatch my businesse and goe into banishment: during which dayes I thought upon a thousand fantasticall discourses, bethinking my selfe, how I might repaire the povertie that had overtaken me after so great abundance. And after I had bethought my selfe of a thousand plots, never a one of which pleased me, the Divell put one in my head, which was the trouble that I now am in. I bethought my selfe that the same day that I was whip [...], [...] famous Theefe came after me, whom the Iudge had condemned to the same paine, a young man of good disposition, and of a vigorous courage, wittie, and one of the cunningest Theeves [Page] that in all my life I had dealt withall, but unhappie as well as my selfe. I acquainted my selfe with him to trie, i [...] betweene two wretched Caitives we could finde some comfort in so great a mishap, and communicating one with tho'other our intent and thoughts, we resolved to make a journey together to Paris. But before wee were fully resolved of all things fitting for the voyage, we had a consultation about our povertie, and infamie, descanting upon the meanes which we might make in so great mishap, and thinking it was not safe for us to embarke our selves in so great a citie as Paris, not having meanes to live on there, and by [Page] which to busie our selves, at least while wee were knowne. And after that he had given me the hearing a long while, and heedefully heard all the reasons and designes which I propounded, he said, Master Lucas (for that was the name which I had at Lions) the inventions that you shew me are good and worthy of such a spirit as yours: but they bee hard and difficult questions. Wherefore leaving them for another occasion, I will tell you one, which if it fal out well, it may well be that we shall get out of this miserie. This is that we may use diligence to finde in this Citie of Lions some Marchant that hath trade and correspondence at Paris, from [Page] whom wee may get a letter directed to his friend, and having found him, you shal tell him secretly, that you will make up some packes of Marchandise in this towne to be transported to Flanders with some mony, and leave all at Paris in the hands of some sure man, that it might be kept safe, while you go to Antwerp, where you shall make as if you have a Cozen germane, to trie the price, and how your Marchandise may be past off; and that having never beene at Paris, nor made any acquaintance to whom you might recommend your packes, you shall intreate him to write to some Merchant of his friends, that hee may keepe them [Page] for you. For so much, I suppose, hee will not refuse you, and if he agreeth to it, let me alone. You shall see how I will rule my hands? If that be all that hinders you, said I, I will finde them that shall give me a thousand letters, and not one only though I am now disgraced, and with infamie yet bleeding, I would have you to know, that there was moe than foure that will doe somewhat for me, and that this is true you shall see by and by. With these words I went from him, and going to a Marchants house of my acquaintance, asking of him a letter, after the forme that my camerade had told me, with which I [...]eturned exceeding content, [Page] and putting it into his hand, he kissed it a thousand times, praising my diligence and credit, and so at last we came to Paris with it, where wee being retired to a Chamber of the suburbs, we made two Packes, with some pieces of coorse canvasse, the rest full of sundry things, such as old shooes, old clothes, ragges, and such other wares, and my Camerade put himselfe in the third, wherein I packt him up so neately and handsomly, that neither his Packe nor the other two seemed to be nothing else but camlots or Fustians. Our Packes being made up, I went to give the letter to the Marchant to whom it was directed, who received it most [Page] gladly offering me all his house. After this wee agreed that I should send the Packes at eight a clocke at night, to save the custome other dues to be paid by the Marchants, amongst which entred that of my companion, if not full of camlots, yet at least of cords, ladder, hooke, file, lantern, knife and other militarie tooles, with which to make war for necessitie, and robbe the Marchants mony. He then being entred and all in the house asleepe, because it was past eleven a clocke he slit the canvasse with a knife, and comming out hee search't all the corners of the house, throwing out at the windowes some apparell and silke gownes with that [Page] seemed to him to be of the least, which I gathering up in the streete with great diligence, the Divell would have it, that the watch in the meane while came by, with so great silence and dissimulation, that they gave me no leasure to hide our bootie, which I was gathering up, nor to betake my selfe to the flight. And as there was no great neede of questioning mee for to know my cops-mates, sith these wares could not fall from heaven, they perceived that my Camerade was above, whom, after they led mee to the prison, they imprisoned also for the same crime. He went out a fort night agoe, being condemned to the Gallies for ten [Page] yeares, and I feare not much lesse, if the mercie and bountie of the Iudges have not some pitie of me.

[Page]

CHAP. XIII.
Of the Statutes and Lawes of Theeves.

BY the discourse which I have made of my Historie, saith honest Andrew, I have noted that you did not like well that I called our Company a Common-weale, it seeming to you that wee are governed only by the desire wee have to steale, without any other law or reason, which is clean contrary, seeing that amongst us is done nothing [Page] which is not ruled by reason laws, statuts & ordināces, punishing those that otherwise exercise our arte. We have in the first place a captain & Superiour, all sorts of whom theevsobey, & he disposeth of their thefts wch they shold act, nāing these whoseeme to him the fittest for the purpose, and choosing the cūningest & wisest of the cōpany for the most difficult & dangerous thefts. And in this there is so good order kept, that there is no man amōgst us that forgetteth one only point of his duty, nor that passeth the bounds of his commission undertaking that wch is in another mans charge nor medling with greater matters than his capacity can cō passe. And know this that it is the most essētiall point of our cōmon wealth, by the disorders [Page] wherof all others are undone This captain examineth him that cōmeth newly unto the company giving him three months of novice ship, to try his courage, inclinatiō & ability, in wch time, he propoundeth to him some witty questions as be these; to hang up some little thing without ladder, pole or line; to steale a mans horse as he is riding on him upō the way; To snatch a way a Courtiers band amōgst a hundred people, & many other things of this kinde. And having known his inclinatiō & capacity,See Cap. 7. p. 54. he givs him the office of a robber, of a Grumet, of a Cut-purse, or any other wherof he is found to be most capable. You will not deny but that this manner of proceeding is a great state point, just reasonable, & so necessary [Page] for the Common wealth, that because it hath not bin practised, so great disorders are seene every where in it, seeing violence can promise no other good end. I will tel you that estates and offices should be given to every one, according to his natural inclination, without enforcing or tying him by any respect to another thing than to that which it desireth, not following that which troubleth, to wit, unquietnesse and mishap. For I held it impossible, that shee whom her parents shall put in a Cloister against her will, for want of monie to marrie her, can live in peace and contentment. As also he wil never proue a better husband [...] who for the only pleasure of [Page] his parents, and against his minde is tyed in marriage, and so of other employments. We have a notable example of this good order in the Lacedemonians state, a curious people, civill and wise, who suffered their children to grow up in libertie, without putting them upon any employment, nor to store up their appetite to any other estate, than to that to which their minde prompted them, and when they came to age and discretion they might choose of themselves the meane to live by most proper and most befitting their naturall inclination, and thence it proceeded that all their actions were so wel ordered and so per [...]it. After this manner our Cōmon wealth [Page] is governed, & with this la [...] our captain ruleth the capacity of those, who come newly [...] unto him, be [...]owing on hi [...] the office & maner of stealin [...] according to the dispositio [...] that hee hath taken notice o [...] in him in the months of his novice-ship.

This Captaine is an old man, wise, well experienced & finally exempted from the trade, as being one who [...] force and nimblenesse having failed for the practize, he exerciseth the Theorie with us teaching us the method and precepts of stealing. To which end he makes [...] meete together once a week [...] in a certaine place appointe [...] for the purpose, where h [...] bindeth us to give a strict a [...] count of all the thefts and accidents [Page] that have happened [...]erein, reproving sharply those who are negli [...]ent and prove vnprofitable, praysing the vigilant and [...]btle. This is done ordinarily on Saturday night, on which day he appointeth all that must be done the weeke following, sharing out to every one the places that he shold keep in, & the thefts in which he shuld be emploied, taking of thē all a strict oath of faithfulnesse, & punishing the offenders, the first time abridging him of that part of the theft which belongeth to him, the secōd depriving him of the place of sixe moneths, and if he be incorrigible and stubborne, he puts him into the hands of the Marshall. If hee falls in a fault by [Page] negligence & carelesnesse, [...] it may be by comming to [...] to his place, to go elsewhere, or let slip some occasion i [...] not laying hold of it, he is deprived of a weekes benefit, [...] taking from him the office of a Theefe, he puts him in the office of a Spie, or of a watch-man, for the time that our Councell shall appoint.

Of all thefts in the first place is allotted the fifth par [...] to him, that spares the whi [...] to us, banishment, the Gallies, the Gallowes, and that which remaineth of the tenths for pious uses, which are, to succour the sicke and needie of our companie, to [...] release prisoners, and to eas [...] the disgraces of those th [...] have no monie.

[Page] We receive no women in [...]e companie, unlesse it be in [...]se of great necessitie, and when it cannot be other [...]ise, because by nature they [...]nnot keepe secrets, & they being unable to eschew this inconvenience we are bound upon great paines not to reveale unto them, how, from whom, and when wee have stollen.

[...]He that commits the theft hath equall share with the Captaine for paines & danger that hee hath put himselfe in, his complices have the third part, and the Spies the fift.

As for the honour and respect which is due to every one, there is such an order kept, that no wrong is done to any one of the companie, [Page] every Officer having hi [...] ranke and place appointed i [...] all our meetings, assemblies and consultations.

For the first are the Robbers,See Cap 7. next the Stafadours, then the Grumets, after these the Ho [...]bgoblins, then follow the wooll-drawers, the Mallets follow them, and last the Apostles, Cigarets, Cutpurses, and Caterers.

Over all these a kinde of Theeves bearesway, called among us Liberalls, whose office is to undertake some strange points, as to blacke their faces with inke o [...]kennell durt, to hang Garlands of hornes at mens doores, libells or such like, and these are the wittyest of all the company, and those who as it were indued with the best [Page] wit and invention, weigh and foreseeing all the difficulties that can happen in a dangerous case.

None of the companie may make any quarrell, noise or contentiō with another, about any matter whatsoever, unlesse it be fained or subtle, to avoide any suspition, that may be offered.

We may not eate twice two of us together in one and the same Tavern or vi [...]ailling house, except it be once in the fev'night, to th'end that if any thing come in the way to be stollen there we may breede no suspition among [...] them that should [...]e [...]us there.

We are forbidden also [...] go together through the city [...] [Page] another; unlesse it be to fall a quarrelling, & to make some false blowe at one another, to draw people together, that upon the occasion of our quarrell the Cutpurses may make up their hand.

Every professor of the companie carrieth his badge and secret marke, by which he is in an instant known of us all, understanding by this order, how many there are of an office in every streete & part of the town. So the Robbers be are alwaies a glove handing and made fast by one finger. The wooll drawers buttonCap. 7. ibids their doublet by intercession [...] is to say, they but [...]on one▪ and misse the next. The [...] [Page] their finger into one of their no strils. The Cut-purses have a little white marke in their hat-bands. [...] The Mal [...]etes beare their cloake after a certaine fashion, and finally every particular office hath its particular token by which it is known among the company.

When any woman of the companie is married every profession gives her five Crowns to augment her portion, keeping neverthelesse such an order, that she may not be married but to one of her owne trade; that is to say, the Daughter of a Robber with a man of the same vocation or calling. And if by chance some Cut-purse should marrie his Daughter with a Robber, Staffador or [Page] Grumet, hee is bound to give him a hundred crowns in portion more then ordinarie, because his sonne of Law is of greater and higher Office then the father is.

We make a vow of patience and suffering, promising to be couragious and constant against torture, though we be seldome put to it, because (as I have told you) all that is salv'd with the fifth part.

And to the end that all the places of the towne may be sufficiently provided, it is enacted that every professour that shall come newly to a place, should put there some marke, shewing thereby the number of Theeves which are in that [Page] part: so the first that commeth layth a die in some secret corner, and yet well known to those of the companie, with the A [...]e turned upwards; The second that commeth, turneth the die to the deuse point, the third to the trey, the fourth to the quarter, and so the others to the [...]ise, and being come to that number, the same Office stayeth in the same place, because that according to our lawes we cannot be above six in one and the same place: and when any one goeth away he turnes the die upon the number of theeves that remaine, in such sort, that they being six, the first that goeth away turnes the [Page] Die to the cinque poin [...] the second to the quarter the third to the trey, b [...] which number he that i [...] behinde of the Theeves i [...] knowne.

We are bound to nourish [...] and sustaine all the creeples, blinde, sick, and those whom their extreame old age excuseth from stealing.

None of us may weare cloake, hat, breeches, doublet nor any thing else that was stollen, nor sell gold, silver or jewells in that towne where they were stollen, under paine of a great and exemplarie punishment.

Wee are commanded to carry alwayes a false bea [...]d in our pocket, with plaisters of sundry sorts, to disguise [Page] us in an instant when occasion shall require,

As concerning Religion we are halfe Christians, because that of the two principall commandments of God [...] Law we keep one, which is to love God, but in no case our neighbour because we take from him that he hath.

Next we receive and allow of the two parts of confession (because now and then we confess) and contrition, but of the third, which is satisfaction or restitution we not so much as make mention or Talk.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

The sonne of the rogue, or, The politick theefe with the antiquitie of theeves : a worke no lesse curious then delectable / first written in Spanish by Don Garcia ; afterwards translated into Dutch, and then into French by S.D. ; now Englished by W.M.De sordenada codicia de los bienes agenos. English

García, Carlos, doctor.

Edition statement

1638

Publication

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Text Creation Partnership,

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Date

2004-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A01433

ID [STC]

STC 11550.4

ID [STC]

ESTC S4312

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

24135992

ID [OCLC]

ocm 24135992

ID [VID]

27231

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A01433)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 27231)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1817:5)

Source

— The sonne of the rogue, or, The politick theefe with the antiquitie of theeves : a worke no lesse curious then delectable / first written in Spanish by Don Garcia ; afterwards translated into Dutch, and then into French by S.D. ; now Englished by W.M., De sordenada codicia de los bienes agenos. English, García, Carlos, doctor., W. M. (William Melvin).

Extent

[10], 253 [i.e. 271] p.

Printed by I.D. for Michael Sparkes and are to [be] sold in Green-Arbor,. London :: 1638.. (Translation of: Desordenada codicia de los bienes agenos.) (Translated by William Melvin.) (Signatures: A⁶(-A1) B-M¹² N⁴.) (Numerous errors in paging.) (Title in ornamental border.) (Imperfect: print show-through and tightly bound with slight loss of print.) (Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library.)

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