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

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

WHen the King and Nobles of Scotland had welcomed Iemy Camber to the Court, who was their Countrey-man borne in Sterlin, but twentie miles from Edinborough, this Kings birth towne, as Greenewich was our late Queenes. They reaſoned with him to vnderſtand his wit, which indeed was iuſt none at all, yet merry and pleaſing, wherat the King reioiced: and ſeeing he was ſo fat, cauſed his Doctors and Phiſitians to miniſter to him, but Phiſicke could not alter nature, and hee would neuer be but a S. Vincents Turnip, thicke and round. Wherefore the Doctors perſwaded his grace, that the purging of the Sea was good for him: well, nothing was vndone, that might bee done to make Iemy Camber a tal little ſlender man. When yet he lookt like a Norfolke dumpling, thicke and ſhort. Well to Leeth was he ſent, which is the harbour towne of ſuch ſhippes as arriue at Edinborough: neere they cannot come, which is ſome myle from the Cittie. To Sea they put in a ſhip, at whoſe departure they diſcharged Ordinance, as one that departed from the land with the Kings fauour: the Earle Huntley was ſent with him to Sea, to accompanie him, ſo high he was eſteemed with the King. Who hearing the Ordinance goe off, would aſke what they doe now? Marry ſayes the Earle, they ſhoot at our enemies: O ſaies he, hit I pray God. Againe they diſcharge, what doe they now quoth he? marry now the enemie ſhootes at vs. O miſſe I pray God (ſaies Iemy Camber:) ſo euer after it was a ieſt in the Scottiſh Court hit or miſſe quoth Iemy Camber: that if a maide had a barne, and did pennance at the Croſſe in the high Towne of Edinborough: what hath ſhe done? did ſhe hit or miſſe? ſhe hath hit ſaies the other, better ſhe had miſt ſayes the firſt: and ſo long time after this ieſt was in memorie, yea I haue heard it my ſelf, & ſome will talke of it at this day. Wel to ſea they put on a fair ſunſhine day, where Iemy ſtood fearefull of euery calme billow, where it was no boote to bid him tel what the ſhip was made of, for he did it deuoutly: but ſee the chaunce, a ſodaine flaw or guſt roſe, the winds held ſtrong Eaſt and by weſt, and the ſhip was in great daunger, inſomuch as the Earle, 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 Maiſter, and all began to feare the weather: by & by a ſtronger gale blew & ſplit their maine Maſt, & gaue their ſhip a mighty leake, inſomuch as the cracke made them all ſcreeke out: which Iemy hearing was almoſt dead with feare: ſome fell to pumping, others on their knees to praying. But the Fat foole ſeeing themſelues in this danger, thought there was no way but one with them, & was halfe dead with feare, in the end the winde turned, and the raging of the Sea began to ceaſe: I warrant thee now (quoth the Maiſter) Iemy we ſhall not be drowned: I, will ye warrant vs, ſaies the foole? I, ſayes the Maiſter, Ile giue thee my ſhip for thy chayne if wee bee drowned: beare witnes my Lord ſaies he, a plaine bargaine, and with that threw the Maiſter his chaine, who would haue giuen it to the Earle, but ioy of their ſcape made him delight in the ieſt, and therefore the Maiſter enioyed his bargaine: With much adoe they attained thither againe, where the King fearefull before, awayted their landing now, and ſeeing Iemy not a iot leſſe of body then hee was, (onely lightened of his chaine) how now, quoth he, how doeſt thou man? O ſayes Iemy, well now King, but ill had not the Maiſter beene, who warranted our liues for my chaine, the beſt bargain that euer I made, for no way could I haue bene a looſer: how, ſaies the King? marry Ile tel thee King, quoth he, ſay we had bin drowned, his ſhip was forfeit to me for my chayne, Earle Huntley was a witneſſe to the bargaine: and now wee are not drowned, for my chayne did warrant our liues of the Maiſter: nay, ſayes the Earle, not our liues, none but yours Iemy: our liues were as ſafe vnwarranted without a chaine. With this the foole had ſome feeling of ſence and on the ſodaine cried out mainely for his chayne againe, which was reſtored to him by the Maiſter, but he loſt nothing by that, for he attained to a ſuit, as the ſtory ſayes, that he had beene three yeres aboue. Thus the King & Nobles went to Edinborough merrily talking of their feare and welfare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IAck Miller welcomed to all places, and bar'd of none, came to a Gentleman, who being at dinner, requeſted him for mirth, to make him a play, which he did, & to ſing Derries faire, which was in this maner: Firſt, it is to be noted, he ſtutted hugely, and could neyther pronounce b nor p, and thus he began: As I went to Derries faire, there was I ware of a iolly begger, Miſtris Annis, maſter Thomas, vnder a tree mending of ſhoone, Miſtris Annis, maſter Thomas, hight braue beggers euery one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How Iohn towled the Bell for his Nurſes Chicken.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A number of things more Iohn did, which I omit, fearing to be tedious: not long after he dyed, and was old; for his beard was full of white haires, as his picture in Chriſts Hoſpitall (now to be ſéene) can witneſſe: buryed he i • is, but with no Epitaph. Mee thinks, thoſe yt in his life time could afford him his picture, might with his graue yéeld ſo much as foure lyues, that people may ſee where he lyes, whom they ſo wel knew: and if I might perſwade, his Motto ſhould be thus, and to this effect: Heere vnder ſleepes blew Iohn, that giues Food to feede wormes, yet he not liues: You that paſſe by, looke at his graue, And ſay, your ſelues the like muſt haue. Wiſe men and fooles all one end makes: Gods will be done, who giues and takes.

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