IN Rauenspurge, in Germany, there dwelled a Iew that was a vsurer, who liued by ye spoile of his purloining faculty and reapt with ease what others had purchast with labor, rich he was, and well monied, & ready to lend vpon any reasonable assurance: but as he was swéet to pleasure at the first, so at the last, whosoeuer tasted of his fauors, found them bées with stings, and faire panthers with deuouring pan • hes, that al his curtesies were but fowlers gins to bring a bird to the snare, & then to pray vpon them like Crocodiles aliue, for this miserable Iew was plyant to the suite of any man, that brought him either sufficiēt surety or pawne: but if he broke one minut of his appointed houre, he took the forfeits with all extremitie: gathering thus infinite treasures into his hands, hée grew by this extorting qualitie to bée one of the richest men in Rauenspurge, yet though his wealth was great, & he in debt to none, his belly sued an action of trespasse (damage fiue hundreth pounds) against him, as being indebted to it, in so much for hū gry meales, and hard chéere, that hée had past ouer in his life time, for he was not only spare in his diet, but miserable, grā ting himselfe oftentimes, no other then water to quench his thirst, and féeding vpon nothing but the most refuse meate in the shambles to satisfie his hunger. This Iew called Ioachlm Gorion, thus flourished and tooke his onely felicitie in féeding his eyes with the sight of infinite treasure not respecting the ruine of many poore men, so he by their miseries might enrich himselfe. Wherevpon he grew in open contempt, and hatred of all the people, but as the Fox the more he is • urst, the better hee fareth, so Ioachim the more the poore exclaimed against him, the more his profits and reuenewes came in.

At last it fortuned that a Farmer bordering néere vnto Rauenspurge, being called Hans Van Limericke, hauing a sum of money to pay, or else to loose certain commodities f • ue times worth the value, not knowing how to furnish himselfe with so much coyne, and finding friends •• acke in time of necessitie, at length called to minde this wretched Usurer Gorian, and though he knew him to be a man of no conscience, yet assuring himselfe how he was able to pay his money that he borrowed againe at the day, was the better encouraged to deale with him, so that coueting rather to brooke an inconuenience, then suffer a mischiefe. He went to the house of Ioachim, and broke the matter vnto him: the Iew neuer denied but friendly promised him to lēd him so much, so he might haue sufficiēt assurance for his mony. Hans hearing this was glad, and said he ment to lay him his farme, and all his Lands in morgage, with a letter of defeisance recognised, that al the land should be his, if either he broke the day or houre. The couetous Iewe was content, so that taking a déede of guift with a prouis • of him, he tendered downe the mony, and so fitted and supplyed the Farmers present want, who went home merily, & dispatched such Creditors as he was vpon that day to discharge. The Iew knowing the Farme to be a pretty plot, well scituated and three times worth the money, wisht Limericke dead, that he might • réely enter possession of his goods and landes, but it fell out contrary to his desire and expectation, for the Farmer carefull of his day, because he knew the hard conscience of the Usurer, straind himselfe and his friendes, & prouided the money, and at the time appointed came and brought it to Gorions house▪ now the money was to be paide betwéene two and thrée in the after noone, which Hans knowing, was there halfe an houre after two to deliuer his money: the Usurer hearing that he was come, was greatly gréeued that he had kept touch so well, and therefore thought to ouer-reach him with flat poli • i • ke co • senage, which he performed thus.

The Usurer had a clocke in his house, which went with such vices and gim •• als, that by letting downe, a pullie, he coulde make it strike what a clocke himselfe would: so that sending downe word to him that he would come by and by, hee went himselfe and straind the pully, and the clocke, presently struck thrée: wherevppon the Iewe came downe, and demaunded of Limericke, what hee would haue? Marrie sir (quoth he) I haue brought you home the mony I borrowed of you, with y• appoyn • ed loane, and a thousand thanks, besides: promising for this fauour euer to rest yours whilst I liue. My money Hans (qd. he) why dost not know y• effects of the recognisance? I pray thée at what houres was the money to be payde? betwéene twoo and thrée (quoth Limericke) why so then it is now past thrée, and therefore Ile none of the money, but stand to the forfeit of the bands that are l • st to me by morgage: at this the poore farmer was some thing amazed, yet thinking tha Iew had but iested, he smild, and began to turne the money on the boord, to tender it: but Ioachim tolde him flat that he was in earnest, and would none of the money: why Sir, (quoth Hans) though your clocke hath strucken thrée, by other clock as if is little past two, and therefore I hope you will not so vniustly stand vppon the aduantage: the Usurer answered him that his clocke went right and he would take none, vpon which they fell at great debate, till at last other clocks in the towne strucke thrée also, which when the Iewe heard hée was glad, and bad him if he could count what it was a clocke, to be briefe he would not receiue a penny, but stoode to the extreamity of the morgage.

The poore Farmer grieuously perplexed, intreated him with teares, obiecting that if it were so a minutes breach was not much: but in vaine all his perswasions were bootelesse breathed into the ayre, for the Iew that had his hart as flinty as Adament, felt no remorse, but went into his closset, and left poore Limericke, with his complaints, who sorrowfully going home to his wife, bewraide the matter vnto her, who pertaking her husbands griefe with equall discontent, perswaded him to patience, and told him he had no better remedy then to make his complaint to the Signorie and rulers of the Cittie, which he did and cald the Iew at a Law day before the iudge, and there reuealed his case at large, for might ouercomming right, and money peruerting the truth, he went home with a flea in his eare, vtterly vndone and beggered, and the vsurer merily tryumphing in the verdite of his reuenues.

This past on a yeare or twoo, till at last poore Hans grew to that extreame want, that he • had neither money, credit, nor house to put his head in, which so vexed him, that at length he grew weary of his life, for being falne from a man of some account to great contempt by his pouerty, hee waxed into a kind of despairing lunacy, and had oftentimes in his melancholly humor slaine himselfe, had not his wife preuented him by her carefull diligence.

While thus Limericke liued in beggars estate with his wife and thrée small Children, this Iew (this Ioachim) this wretched Usurer, as he • ryumphed in his wealth, was one day suddenly stricken with sicknes that he went to his bed, and there lay till hee grew quesie at the heart, and then • e sent for phisitions whome he greased with golde, and • ad them spare for no cost, so he might recouer his former health: they applyed Potions, Electuaries, Glisters, Purgations, and Pilles, but in vaine. Contra vim mortis, non est medicamen in hortls.

They could find out no simple Hearbe, Stone nor Minerall, Drugge nor compound so comfortable, that any waye might mittigate his disease, so that growing past helpe of man, the Phisitiaus left him, and certaine deuout men of the towne came to perswade him to God, séeing hee was no man of this world, wishing him to enter with déepe insight into his owne minde, and to search his conscience for many wrongs and extorting iniuries hée had offered to poore men setting before his eyes the paynes of Hell due to sinners, as condigne punishment. Ioachim hearing all, along time with patience answered not a word, but only desired thē to depart, and to trouble him no more for a while: which they did, and he turning himselfe, lay two or thrée houres in a trāce considering and repeating in his mind, the infinite wrongs & palpable iniuries he had offered y• poore, the widdow & fatherlesse, which striking a remorse into his conscience, séeing hee must die, and measuring his sins with the instice of God, and hauing no grace to thinke vpon his mercy, he started vp, and with his eyes staring, cryed vnto his man and saide, oh the Plague, the plague, the plague is here my Ben, the plague: his man thinking he had ra • 'de for want of sléep, destred him to be patient, and to leaue off those franticke exclamations. Oh thou of my tribe (qd▪ he) I am in my right mind, the plague is here euen in my conscience, in my inward soule, I am worse then Cain or Iudas: I haue murdered more then they two by extortion, and therefore I cannot be saued: the plague in my conscience, my Ben, the plague: his man (although he hated his maister,) and wisht him at the Deuill, yet to blind the world with the opinion of a dutifull seruant, he presently ran for the chiefe Burgamasters of the towne, who comming hastily to comfort and counsaile him, found him in this dispairing humor, & could by no means draw him to any hope of grace, wherevpon they left him as he liued, and so gaue him ouer to die, he continuing stil in this melancholly despaire. While thus he languished in this mad moode, Hans and his family harbored in poore estate in the Citty, and hearing of this extreame sicknes of the I • w, was glad that God had so sharply auenged him of his enemy: but yet this mishap bred him small help, whervpon desirous to die, he went, & at an Apothecaries shop bought him a mortall confection, which he purposed to take to rid him from his present misery.

Hauing kept it a long while in a Uioll, at last he sat in a great studdy vpon his present hard fortunes, and houering betwéen grace & dispaire, at last he resolued to go try now what this Usurer would doe, happily (sayd he to himselfe) his sicknes hath altered his conscience, and his minde is better now toucht with the doubt of death, then when before hee had no other thoughts but vpon life, so that I will make experience if hée will compassionate my miserie, and make some restitution of that which so wrongfully hee detaineth from mée. In this minde the poore man went to Gorions house, and knocking at the doore, be found none there but poore Beniamin, who was almost wearie of his life, with the extreame trauell that hée had with his lunaticke Iewish Master, and he poore soule began to turne Christian, and to pitty the Farmer, and wisht him to come in.

It may be (saith he) grace yet will be sent to him, and the touch of his extortion will turne his conscience, therfore come vnto him, and speake face to face with him: The Farmer glad of this, came into the chamber and saluted him in most humble manner. Who is that (oh Ben) saies the Iew, that salutes me? It is sir (quoth he) the poore farmer whose lands you entred vpon by a forfeit of morgage. At that as wel as he could, he raised himselfe vp in his bed, and cryed out Uillaine take héed, he comes to rob me, beware of him, looke to my Coffers, to my Gold, to my writings: where are my kepes? Sir (saith Beniamin) they be about your necke: for in his most extreamity, no, not till his latest gaspe would hée part from them, so that in a couetous lunacy hee gropt for them, held them fast, and cryed out the Plague, the Plague, oh Hell, • ell, the Deuill, the deuill.

So his man Ben perswaded him to be quiet and to remember the poore man: the poore man, I marrye Ben, well sayd (quod the Iew) where is he? I will giue him his land again, I tooke from him wrongfully, and then he stoode staring him on the face, hee will not liue long saith his man stay you with him and talke with him, till I go out and call some neighbors to be with me.

The farmer was content, and so Beniamin went out and left them two together: as soone as hee was gone, the poore man began to instruct him to God-ward, and séeing he was ready to dye, to make restitution of such goods or Lands as hee with-held from any man by extortion.

At this the Iew • lookt on him very ghas • ly, and spyed the Uioll that y• poore man held in his hand vnder his cloak, with that in a rage hee cryed out what hast thou there in the glasse? phisicke to coole my conscience that burnes like hell, hath the Deuill sent to heale me.

The Farmer séeing this desperate Iewe voide of all grace and giuen ouer by God into a reprobate sence, answered him briefly, he hath sent me to thée, and vild Usurer I haue broght thée phisicke from the Deuill to helpe thée. Oh welcome, welcome saies the Iew, what is in it? what is in it? Marie saith the Farmer, there is in it these simples following.

Heere are the teares of poore men, distilled from their eyes through the anguish of thy extortion, and they are made lukewarm with the scalding s • ghes that throbs from their sorrowfull hearts, tempered with the curses of Widdowes and Orphanes, whom thou hast brought to beggery: these boyld with the fire of Gods wrath, and put vp by the Deuill into a violl of despaire & prepared for thée to drinke, that after thou hast takē this potion, thou maist go to deuill without repentance.

Then giue it me (quoth he) and so he snatcht the violl of poisō out of the poore mans hand, and drunke it off, the confection being strong began to suffocate his sences, that he lay stil: perceiuing that he could not liue long, thoght now, séeing no body was there, to prouide for himselfe: conuey any chests he could not, steale any goods he might not, for hee had no oportunity, and therefore God putting it into his mind, hee tooke penne and paper, and writ a scedule to this effect.

Ioachim Gorion being whole of minde, though s •• ke in body, toucht with remorse of conscience for the manifest wrongs that I haue proffered to insinit poore men, Widdowes, and Fatherlesse Children, hoping that the mercie of God is more then my sins, do ordaine Hans van Limericke my lawfull heire and Executor, as a man whome aboue all I haue most wronged, conditionally that hee reward my man Beniamin, for his faithfull seruice: and for the surplu • age let it be to him and to his • eires for euer, of all my goods, lands, Cattles and mooueables, and that this is my last will and testament, I haue thereto set my seale at armes.

Hans Limericke hauing thus cunningly written it, and being a good pen man, so excellently well counterfeited his hand that it might not easily be disc • rned, but the Iew himselfe had written it: so pulling his seale off from his finger, he sealed it, and then wrapping it vp put it in a purse that hung about the Iewes necke, for Ioachim was already sencelesse, and lay staring, but the poison had so suffocated his pipes, that he could not speake.

By that came Beniamin with twoo or thrée poore men and Women to watch with him, whervpon the Farmer tooke his leaue, and his man asked him what newes: I can get no other answere of him than this, that when he is dead, I shall heare what he will doe. At that the Iew lookt Ben in the face, and as well as he could pointed to Hans, meaning how he had poisoned him, but they tooke it that he meant some good should be done vnto Hans.

After his death, as soone as he was gone, the poison came to the last exigent, and the pangs of death • rewe on, and they all perceiued that there was no hope of life, which sorted according to their expectations, for within one halfe houre after the Iew died.

As soone as Beniamin saw him dead hée shed teares, more for fashion then for loue, and hauing like a wise Cooke lickt his owne fingers, that he neede no further legacy to shadowe the matter, sent one straight to signifie the matter vnto the Burgamasters, that Ioachim the Iewe was dead, and séeing that he had neither made will, nor yet had any kindred that might claime it as his heire, it were best for them to looke for the disposing of his goods.

The Burgamasters comming thither, with a generall consent, began to suruay euery chest in the house, and to search each corner putting all into an inuentory that they • ound, wt • eing summed together, redounded to an infinite wealth: besides his lands, leases, and tenements, that he had in the Cittie and country thereabout: At last missing the keyes of certain cheste that could not be vnlockt, Beniamin told them they hung about his necke at his purse, they wondering at the excéeding couetousnes of such a miserable man, smiled and took his purse, and searching what was in it, found the scrowle which Limericke had written, sealed with the Iewes seale at armes, which when they had well read ouer and determined vpon, they all censured that God had put some remorse into his conscience, both to make him heire whome he had so highly wronged, and that he was in so good a mind to make restitution of his misdéeds; Upon this they called a conuocation in their State-house, they sent after Hans, and by a generall decrée, made him lawfull inheritour to the Iewe, so Hans from a beggar became richer than any Burgamaster, did many good d • eds to the poore, made restitution and well rewarded Beniamin, thanking God that the miserable vsurer had couetously gathered and had him to be his heire, whom he neuer so much as once dreamt of.

IN the County of Deuonshire, not farre from Exceter, there dwelled a Rope-maker whose name I conceale: this Rope-maker (whome I will call Richard) was about the age of some forty yeres, and he was a parlous sowre fellow, ill loued of his neighbours because he so vnkindly liked of his wiues: for this iolly companion had bin maried to thrée wiues in ten yeares, and had vsed them all so hardly, that he killed them all with kindnes.

This brought him in such hatred amongst all his nieghbors, that though he were a man of verry good wealth, and besides his occupation, landed: yet the poorest and basest wench in the whole country, did disdaine to match herselfe with such a franticke husband, so that being a widdower, hee had no hope euer to match himselfe againe, where he was knowne, and therefore apparelling himselfe hansomely, and putting store of crownes in his purse, he went into Somersetshire hard by Tanton, and there was a sutor to a widdowes daughter▪ that was a good propper maide and wellfauoured, but of no great wealth, & therfore the easier to be wooed, & won of a stranger.

This rope-maker being a good propper man, and of a comely personage, became a sutor to this maide, whose name was Mary, a wench of a good bone and a lusty complexion, much like to Lancashire breed, the maiden entering into consideration of her mothers estate, and her owne pouertie, and seeing she had few sutors, because the hope of her dowry was but small, listened the rather to Richards motion, who beeing of a smoothe tongue, and could set out himselfe well in talke, as the tiger when he meanes to prey, then euer hideth his claws, and where the Foord runnes smoothest, there is it deepest: so as the olde prouerbe is, the still Sow eates vp all the draffe: and he could vse such ciuill behauiour, trickt out with such eloquent and glorious tearmes, that in short time he wonne the wench and married her, and after that he had remained a weeke or two at home with her mother, hee tooke his leaue to carry her home to his owne house: although there was some sorrow at parting betweene the mother and the daughter, yet because she loued Richard well, she tooke it patiently, and beeing hony moone, he seemed so chairy ouer her, that it grieued him the winde should blowe on her; well, home they went, and when she came where he dwelt, she found a house well stored with all things necessary, but she wondered as the custome was in their country, that none of his neighbors did come to welcome him to the towne: well, this past on till Sunday, and then she went to Church: when they of the towne did see that rich man the Rope-maker had gotten so propper a woman to his wife, they began to say that the more knaue had euer the better lucke, and indeed fortune was blinde when she suffered such a buzzard to light on such a chicken, and to pittie the poore womans mishappe, that had chaunced on such a froward and Hare braind Husband: yet foothing all vp with a good countenance, they after seruice was done, welcommed her vnto the parrish, and she returned them thankes very ciuillie. It chanced one wife amongst the rest, whose sister this Rope-maker had married and kild with kindenes, did long till she spake with Richards wife, that shee might make her priuy vnto her husbands vntoward qualities: and tarrying a great while to speake with her, at last finding oportunitie, discoursed vnto her how her husband had bene marryed vnto three wi • es, and how cruelly he had dealt with them all, abusing them so, that they tooke such griefe, that for verie sorrow they all dyed, telling her from point to point a number of his ill conditions, which although they went colde to her heart, yet chearefully made the Woman answere, that what her husband had done before, it little toucht her: the woman hearing Richards wife speake so modestly, and in the defence of her husband, onely prayed God she might finde it so in the end, and so friendly they parted.

The Rope-makers wife being in a great perplexitie, that she had made such a choice in hast • , that she might so deepely repent at leysure, hoping the best, shee went about her huswiferie till her husband came home, who returning within two daies after, she welcommed him with all curtesie that a woman could affoord to her husband: he thanked her, but not with the same familiar countenance he was wont to doe, which streight made her suspect that her neighbors tale would prooue a true prophecie, but patiently brooking some vnkinde Frownes, shee dealt so carefully, louingly, and kindely with him, that he could find • no cause to beate her, insomuch that his olde dogged nature within one halfe yeare began to breake out, so that she easily perceiued he sought a knot in a rush, and aymed earnes • lye to finde some Cauell that hee might hansell her bones with a cudg • ll if shee lookt merrily on him, shee flowted him, and streight he lent her a boxe on the eare for her fleering.

If her countenance were solemnly modest, then she loathed him, and what he did: and cound about the house he went with a fayre Holly wand, if shee spoke vnto him she was talkatiue; and streight she had a blow on the lippes: if shee saide nothing she was • ullen: and he wold make her finde her tongue with a Ropes-ende, which he called a Salt-Eele, and with which against her will shee broake her fast, dinde, & supt many a time: whatsoeuer she did huswifly in the house, what meat she drest, what businesse she performed, al was misconstrued and rewarded with blowes, which draue y• poor womā into such a quandarie, that she wisht herselfe out of the world, her estate growing worse & worse, at last his habit grew to a custom & so she neuer went vnbeaten to bed, so that as now gentlewomē weare their Maskes, so shee euerie Sunday went to Church with a black • Face, which her neighbours espying▪ as they pittied her, so they smiled, that at length she had found their forewarnings to bee no other but meere prophecies, but although they had libertie to les • , so she had occasion to sorrowe, for the miserable man would driue her into great extremities, and make tryall of her patient nature, with wondrous contrarieties: for some time comming home late in the night, hee would bring sundrye of his Neighbor • with him, and to shewe how hee could domineere ouer his wife, hee would make her light a pound of Candles at the great ende, which if either in iest or earnest shee refusde to doe, str • ight about the house shee went, and had a gentle remembrance to remember his fingers a mo • th after.

And amongst the rest, one day to haue the world thinke in what seruile slauerie his wife stood of him, hee caused her to stand by him, while hée made Ropes, and fill a Siue with water, a labour as endlesse, as painefull and contemptible, so that the ne ghbor • and passengers noting it, some praised the w • m • ns patience▪ that executed her husbands foolish charge, with so stedfast and resolute a countenance: the poore wise liuing in this miser • e by the space of some three or four • yeares▪ so one day being alone by her selfe, looking in a glasse, and considering aduisedly how her wonted countenance was blemisht by her husbands vnkindenes, shee fetcht a great figh, and sware a m • rtall and fatal reuenge, so that a deepe hate of his ill qualities entring into her thoughts, shee resolu'd to make him repent those many yeares he had made her leade in such s • ruile miserie.

In this determination she gathered her wits together, and sought how to crie quit • ance with her husband, yet could shee finde no certaine meanes speedily to auo • de the shrewish disposition of such an earthly Deu • ll, but bearing the Crosse with patience, • ested the verse subiect of distresse: to run away shee would not, to withstand him she could not, she shamd to make complaint to the Iustices: and thus euerie way she was voide of any remedie, so that she brookt al, and went about her busines, till on a time fortune smiling vppon her, and intending to giue truce to this poore woman, it chanced that as shee was gathering r • she • to make her house cleanly, against the next Holly-day, sitting & sighing at her vnhappines, she heard one sing a merrie song, which she gaue eare vnto: The effect wherof, agreed greatly with her melācholly disposition, for it armed a salue for that sore, that so pincht her, and applide a medicin • for her continuall malladie: the contentes of the song were these.

THe olde woman hauing thus ended her song, the poore wife that with teares for ioy, heard some hope of her redresse, drew neere to finde out this olde woman, who had sung such a pleasant Dittie, and finding her foorth, shee saluted her and after sundry broken sighes, flowen out of a pensiue conscience, she began to breake with her in this manner.

Mother (quoth she) as your age is great, so your experience is much, and therefore would I willingly discouer some parte of my griefe vnto you: the • uld woman seeing the wiues face, full of sorrow, noting in her the very An • atomie of a pensiue woman, began to compassionate her fortunes, and therefore wisht her miloely and friendly, to r • ueal • the cause of her distresse, & if any way it lay in her power, to satisfie her thoughts, her cares should be cured with either counsaile or comfort: the poore wife hearing the old woman speak with such a familiar relish vnto her, began her complaint thus:

MOther I cannot conce • t my 〈◊〉 without • ighes, nor manifest my sorrowes without • eares, so bitter is the estate of my fortunes, and so ha • lesse is the euent of my redresse: I was once as you haue be •• , a maide, and then the countrie Farmers reported my beautie to be as great, as now my miserie is extreame: Fate so appointed that I was woed and wonne by a rope-maker, a man I think (mother) not vnknowne vnto your selfe, if for no other cause, yet for the hard vsage of his wiues, and with that the poore woman bu • st into bitter teares, and the olde woman began to •• gh, in vttering her conceit with an oath, asked if she were the maide that Richard the rope-maker had maried? I am mother quoth she, that vnfortunate wife, that was once a maide, whose fortunes are made intollerable, by the bad nature of a froward husband▪ whose custome is neither at bed or at boord, to shew me any good countenance: if I looke so • erly, then I am t • oubled with the sull • ns, and then he wakeneth me with a hollie w •• and: if I salute any of my neighbours with good-morrow, he saieth they are my Copesma • es, and then my bones beares the burthen: If I speake to none, he saith I scorne such as are his friends, and hee will make me find my tongue: if in my bed I fall asleepe, beeing wearied with labor, he pincheth me wickedly, and cals me drowsie drunkard: if I ouer-wake him, then he puls me by the haire of the head, and saith I watch to cut his throat, when he is asleepe: yet mother, these are not the greatest sorrowes, for he hath a maide at home which he loues better then mee, and her be setteth on his knee before my face hee, cuts her the first morsell of the meat, and oftentimes in the night he riseth from me to goe to her, and in the day if I but wish her to goe to her worke, if she frowne, then am I most pittifully beaten, as you may witnes with your eies, and with that shee discouered her naked bodie to her, which was all brused blacke and blew, with stripes, and yet mother (quoth she) these are not the greatest sorrowes.

The olde woman colde at the heart, with th • rehearsall of this poore wiues calamities, made her this • inde answere: daughter inough, I knowe by the man much ill, as this sixteene yeares that I haue knowne him, I haue entred into many discourses of his villanies, but le • ting him passe as he is, to the present redresse of thy miseries, what, sayes shee, hast thou no friends to goe vnto, whose abillitie may counteruaile his currishnes, and bridle him by the lawe, for such beastlines? Alas aunswered she, I haue none but an olde woman and poore like your selfe to my mother, and it grieues me to make a bootlesse complaint vnto her: why then (saith the olde woman) hast thou no friend who for the possession of thy loue may haue him about the pate, and so reuenge thy iniuries? Alas (mother) better had I dye miserably, then dishonestly, I haue none, And saith the olde Matron, I see thou art not strong inough to match him with blowes, and therefore must I flye for thy succour to my last phisicke: whose principles be so auth • nticall and sure, that they neuer misse, therfore tell me, hast thou any woman, that thou dar'st commit thy secrets vnto?

O Mother (saith she) two or three his mortall enemies, and my greatest friends: then Daughter feare not (replyed the old • Counsellor) but listen well to my aduise: goe thy wa • es home, and doe somthing that may displease. Alas (said she) that I may easily doe, for I cannot doe any thing that can please him: but what then, shall I seeke my owne destruction to bee beaten? for once daughter (qd. she) when thou maist for that beating liue at quiet for euer▪ But as soone as he offers to strike thee, stand in de •• ance of him, and say thou hast praied vnto our Lady for helpe, and she hath promised to helpe thee, and to reuenge all thy iniuries, and therefore bid him if he dares, but once while he liues touch thee againe in anger. If then he • wil swinge thee, beare it patiently, and take this powder that I shall giue thee, and when thou knowst he goes to worke alone by himselfe, giue it him in drink: the vertue of the powder is to • uffocate and choake vp his sences, so that he shall not haue any feeling for the space of • ire honres, but he shall lye like a liuelesse carkasse, and his dreames shall bée of women, & Angells: then daughter (& then she whispred many matters in her eares) whether they were charmes or spelles I cannot tell, but this I am sure it was some good conceit, for the poore wife wept for ioy, and on her knees thanked the woman for her aduise, and so they parted, she promising to bring her word within ten daies how her phisicke had taken effect: well, to be short, merrily goes this good wife home, and findes her husband dallying with her maide, at which sight her stomacke rose, and began to take him vp sharpely, and to sweare that if she tooke her Maide and him so suspitiously together againe, she would complaine of him to the Iustices, and cut off her mades nose for a generall example to such whor • s as she was.

The Rope-maker (this gentle Richard) pondering at his wiues vnaccustomed brauling, began to start vp, and to séeke for a • udgell, with that shée as a woman resolued to follow her late counsell, made this reply:

Nay brain-sicke villaine, strike me if thou darst, for through thy long abuses I haue hartily praied to our Lady for reuenge and she hath this day appeared to me, and promised me, that if thou doost heereafter, but touch the hemme of my vesture in anger, she will be auenged vppon thee so extreamely, that thou shalt repent the abuses thou hast proffered me, as long as thou dost liue. Richard smiling at this reply, made his wife this answere, huswife (quoth he) if our Lady haue appeared vnto you, our Lord her sonne hath shewed me a vision, that he that hath an ill wife and will not • eat her, shall lead apes in hell for his labor, and with that he fell vppon her, and pumnield her so soundly, that he had almost kild her, and she began halfe to repent that she followed the olde womans counsaile, yet hoping for time to reuenge, she bare all things with the more patience, and finding oportunitie vppon a day or two after to speake with her gossips, she reuealed vnto them the contents of the ould wiues counsaile, whereat they triumphing and glorying in this determination, they promised to plague him, and to performe whatsoeuer should redound to her commoditie, auowing such secrecie, as that it should neuer come out by any meanes whatsoeuer.

Time passing on thus, it fortuned that our Rope-maker, and his maide, were wont euery weeke twice, to goe to a strange house, and there she turned the wheele while he twisted his ropes, when their busines was done, what excercise they vsed I knowe not: one day amongst the rest Richard and his maide going alone to this solitarie place, to make their ropes, he commaunded his wife to fill them a bottle full of drinke, for he could not returne before night: she glad of this oportunitie, put the dormitarie powder that the ould wife had giuen her into the bottle, which they • aking went their waies merrily together, and the drink and the powder with iogging was made a mere potion, as soone as they were gone▪ she stept out and went to her 〈◊〉 , and discourst vnto them the whole matter, and with that shee drew out from vnder her ke •• le two three stringed whippes of sharp and hard twisted cordes, with • ound knots vpon the endes, able to cut the slesh with a small stroak, these she be queathed vnto them, and humbly vppon her knees, desired them not to spare for pittie to punish them to the highest extreamitie: they promised to shewe iustice without mercie & especialy one of thē who was sister to one of his former wiues, that he had kild with kindenesse, who for an olde grudge did intend now to bee fully • euenged, and so they went to the graunge house, where leauing them consulting together, and the good wife gone home full of hope, let vs returne to the Rope-maker (Richard and his maide.)

Richard after hee had dispatched some part of his businesse, would to dinner or drinking, and after his Maide and he had louingly broken their Fast, they would like Doues fall to billing, but hauing drunke soundly of the potion, it began to mortifie their sences, that hee desirous to take a nappe, laying his head in his Maides lappe, fell fast a sleepe, and shee as heauie as he, leaning her head on her maisters shoulders was in a deade traunce.

When these two Gossips came and foun • them thus drowsely tumbled together, although they saw them soundly a sleep, yet were they aff • aide vntill they had made experience of the effects of the potion: for they shooke them, prickt them with pinnes, and vsed all meanes to awake them, but it was impossible, whereupon they grew • olde, and pulled off his apparel not so much as leauing his shirt vppon him, and they fell vnto belabouring of him with their whips, in such monstrous manner, that the blood came downe aboundantly from all partes of his bodie, and they cut him with their lashes to the verie sinewes, so then at length they ceaste, pulled on his apparell as it was before, and drest him vp verie mannerly, not so much as leauing his points vntrust, or any thing vndone, whereby he might perceiue hee had bene made vnready.

Hauing thus drest him in his kinde, they fell to his Maide, and serued her with the same sauce, that her maister was vsed with all, and when they had punished her throughly, they drest her againe, laced vp her cloathes, and laide them together as they found them, and went their waies merrily to the Rope-makers house, discoursing vnto their Gossip all what had hapned, who ioyfull of this newes, made them the best cheere in her house, and thanked them heartily for their labours, promising the next day to tell them what her husband would suspend in this tragedie.

Wel, the time of the working of y• potion being at an end, sith they drunke together, they began to awake together, but the Maide being youngest, had the strongest sences, and therefore the operation • oonest wasted in her, and halfe between s • umber and awake about to stretch herselfe as drowsie folkes doe, her smocke so cleaued to her skin▪ that the verie smart thereof made her not onely awake but to shrieke out, so that when shee was come to her selfe she wondred what shee ailed, that all her flesh was so sore, so that pulling vp her petticoate and looking vpon her thighes, shee found them all in a gore blood, lasht and cut in with Whip-corde almost halfe an inch deepe, which made her to stand in a mase, wondring how she should become so greeuouslie tormented. At last vnlas • ng herselfe, shee found all her body worse, so that shee could not lift her hands to her head. Whereupon she cried out▪ and her maister awoke, & being halfe in a dreame, and his eyes scarce open, as hee was about to stretch him▪ his shirt claue so to his backe, that hee felt intollerable paines.

Oh Isabell (quoth he) what aile I? or where am I? what haue I drempt? and what doe I feele? Alas Maister, I am almost whipt to death since I fell a sleepe. I thinke it is some accursed Fa • ries that haue done this deede, and shee shewed him all her body, whereat hee fell into bitter teares, and then shee tolde him that shee was laced and braced as shee was before. Alas Isabell (quoth hee) helpe mee • o vnbutten mee, for I cannot stirre my hand to my bossome I am so sore, then vntrussing him hee found himselfe worse whipt then his Maide, whereupon hee fel into consideration of the wordes of his wife vsed against him, threatning him that our Lady would reuenge her wrongs, so that he told his maid, no doubt it was the Uirgine Marie that had thus punisht them both for the wrongs hee had proffered against his wi • e, promising if euer God sent him to his health, hee would neuer strike her againe, nor misuse her so long as hee liued. So he desired his Maide to helpe him home, and shee as Lame as hée could scarse rise, yet one of them helping one another, they went cra • ping home as well as they could.

As the w • nt lamenting home by the way, they mette with the Uicar of the Parish: this olde Sir Iohn meeting his neighbors (and one of his friends and parishioners) in this woful perple • t • e asked him how he fared.

Oh Maister Uicar (quoth hee) not as a man in this world, you seeme weake (quoth the Uicar) sit downe and rest you, and tell me where your greefe lyes, happily I may gi • e you some good counsaile. Oh Maister Uicar (quoth hee) I am in no case to sit downe, I am so beaten with whipps, that I cannot stirre any ioint of my body without paines. Why what ayle you? how should it come so to passe? with that the Rope-maker told him from point to point what had hapned to him, and to his Maide, and how his wife threatned him the other day, how that our Lady had appeared vnto her, and promised reuenge, and I thinke it is she or some of her holy Angells that hath whipt me and my Maide, for wee slept but a nappe, and when wee awoke, wee found neither hand nor foote stirred, nopoint vntrust, no button vnbuttoned, nothing out of order, and yet our selues so whipt, that I thinke I cannot liue till the morning, wherefore good Maister Uicar pray for me.

Sir Iohn hearing this, was wonderfully astonied, & wisht him to goe home to his wi • e, to mend his manners, and reconcile himselfe vnto her, and hee would pray for him the next day in the Church: so they parted, and hom • stumbles Richard and his Maide, and comming to the doore found his wife sitting in the entrieat her wheele, she seeing her husband comming so simply and weakely with his Maide, although shee tickled at her heart for ioy that they were so well whipt, yet shee fained great sorrowe at their present sight, and throwing downe her wheele for hast • ran and met him, and weeping fained teares, said alas, alas, what ailes my husband? and offered to take him by the arme to •• ay him, he cryed out: oh wife touch mée not, I am sore sicke and cannot escape death, our Lady at thy request hath giuen me I feare me my deathes wound, for shée hath almoste whipt me and my maide to death: oh wife forgiue vs, and pray for vs, and if we euer hap to liue together, I will amend my life, and become a new man, and neuer speake angrie word to thee againe while I haue breath in my bodye, the Wife séeming passing sorrowfull at this, wisht that our Lady had giuen her so much, so that he had escaped, so helping him in, shee laide him downe vppon a soft pallet, and came and tolde her Gossips what had hapned, and how her husband came home, and his maide with him So they came with her hastilye laughing amōgst themselues, but to his face pittying the chance so that by their helpe his maid and he were holpen to their beds, where when they had lyen a little, and were come to some warmth, their flesh • ell on bleeding a fresh, so that the Surgeon being sent for to stanch the blood, seeing their woundes, and hearing the strange case, fel in a great amase with himselfe and said the dooing of God was wonderfull: much adoe hee had to stop the Fluxe of the blood, yet at last he got it stauncht, but they lay in moste miserable perplexitie, almoste slaine with the whipping.

Well, the newes of this (as women are borne blab • ) began to goe about the towne, yet the two Gossips wondered at it, as much as the rest, and this hapning vpon a satterday, the next day being sunday, (good honest Sir Iohn) came to visite his neighbour, and finding him almost speechles, after some words of comfort vnto him▪ he went to Church, where after the first Lesson, he began a certaine prayer for the health of the Rope-maker, who hee saide lay speechlesse, and at the mercie of God, and that through a strange and wonderfull fortune, and therefore desiring all them that were present to pray for him, he began to take his text out of Saint Peter, how wiues shold obey their husbands, and husbands cherrish their wiues, sith they were but one flesh, and therein for an example brogh • in the strange aduenture of Richard the Rope-maker how hée had abused himselfe to all his wiues, and so making manifest the wickednes of his life, did tell them what reuenge our blessed Lady had taken vpon him in a dreame, and so from point to point discourst vnto them what had hapned vnto him, wishing them by his example to amend their liues, least for beating their wiues the like punishment fall vpon them This text no little pleased the wiues of the parish, for they tickled at it▪ and the men they were amazed to heare of such a wonderful chanc • so that in the after noone, al the parish came to see him and beholde him, as if Lazarus had bin rizen from the dead, there finding a more pittifull spectacle then maister Uicar had told them of, they all saide that as the case was verry strange, so the reuenge was iust, such as were to shrewes to their • iues, bit the lip, and were afraide of our Ladies whipping. At last Richard gathering his spirits, and his speeches together, exhorted his Neighbours by his ex • mple, not to abuse and beate their wiues, telling vnto them th • full 〈◊〉 of this Tragedie.

This discourse pleased the Wiues, and affrighted the husbands, so that if any in the towne offered to strike his wife▪ shée would streight vow to make her complaint at our Ladies shrin • , and so they scapte many a sharp scoure▪ But to be bréefe▪ Richard lay long sicke and his maide, and his wife tended and comforted them so well, that at length they recouered some part of their strength▪ and when he was able to walke abroad, he humbled himselfe to his wife, and • urst not abuse her al his life after, & if by chance they had fallen out, she would say streight, wel, I say no more, but our Lady requi • e my iniuries: and then would her husband neuer goe abroad till his wife and hee were reconciled and made friendes, so euer after shee war • the breeches, & was Maister, and all the Wiues in the parrish fared the better, and were all greater benefactors to the Shrin • of our Lady, that rid them from the hands of their iniu • ious husbands.

And thus with a Rauens quill haue I written this Almanacke, which foretelleth strange, ominou • & most dir • euents, The plagues whereof I haue spoke shall as certainely fall out, as the Famin, and the Ciuill wars: all three are dreadfull, all three are at hand. Make b • n •• res therefore in your streets, (O you Cittizens) to purge the ayre of all infection, albeit you kéep the inward houses of your bodies neuer so vn cleane it is no matter. Open your gates to let in the countrie folkes, with prouision, to beate backe famin, but let the markets bee looked vnto as mens consciences are: that is to say, euerie one to racke it how he listeth, As for ciuill warres there is good hope, they shall quickly be quenched, because so many hundreds of Constables watch day and night within the walles to keep the peace: But by no meanes step you in and bee sticklers when the Church is at • arre within he • selfe by schismes or by Temporizer • , or when the husband and wife, the Father and Son, the Maister and Seruant, or when any other limbe of the politicke body challengeth the combat against him, whome by nature hee is bound to defend: if any predictions bring thée in pleasure or proffit, thou wil • encourage mee to play the right Almanacke maker, and in another yeare to sing mor • ie tunes of my faire weather, as in this I haue strucke a dull string, sounbing onely stormes. In the meane time suffer my Rauen (being wearie) to flye to some tree of rest, and there to prune her selfe of this s • cke Feathers, which she hath caught by medling with the diseases of 1609.